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forbidden-sunlight · 6 days

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yandere!ceo with villainess!reader scenario [part two]

warnings: implied infidelity, implication of obsessive thoughts or love, workplace toxicity, non consensual surveillance.

There might be potential triggers in this piece. If you do not feel comfortable with reading it, please hit the 'back' button on your phone or laptop and find something much more pleasant to read than a potential series of unfortunate events.

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Hey guys, and welcome to part two of my new original yandere oc x series, featuring the good-looking prick and CEO of his family's conglomerate, Yeo Jung-Hwa.

This is a collaboration between me and the incredibly talented @deathmetalunicorn1. Special thanks to @pinkgoldweebgirl for their honest feedback on the earlier drafts of this project and @impeakcharacterdesign for being my beta-reader for the final draft.

I definitely was not expecting such positive feedback on the first part in less than a week, so thank you all for reblogging, liking, and commenting your thoughts on it, they really made some of my more stressful days in the medical field a little brighter :)

Also, if the lofi vibes nor are the clothes written in here aren’t your thing, feel free to insert whatever is your preferred interior theme and fashion/clothing style.

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy the drama being unfolded on the stage.

Part one

Yeo Jung-Hwa was unhappy with the series of events that had occurred at the office. Hyueng Mun-Hee had bursted into his office with tears streaming down her bright red face, sobbing about how she cannot stand being bullied by the team manager of her department any longer. Who was the team manager?

You. His fiancee. The woman he must marry. A promise between his father and yours that would be beneficial to everyone involved - everyone except him. Wasn’t he entitled to experience pure joy of being loved and in love? To be with someone who wasn’t tiresome and annoyed him all the time?

Meeting Hyeung Mun-Hee had felt like seeking the sky for the first time. She was a breath of fresh air to his stifling world. Hearing your most recent act of cruelty towards her had been the final straw. And like any self-respecting CEO, he texted the CFO to look into it before all hell had broken loose. He was receiving emails from the managers of all the other departments left and right, all with the same attachment. Botched up documents. And the one who had sent it was none other than Hyeung Mun-Hee.

But he didn’t believe it at first.

He truly thought it was another underhanded trick you had created to get Hyeung Mun-Hee fired because that’s exactly the sort of person you are to him; a dishonest, greedy, arrogant woman whose saving grace as a human being is an excellent work ethic. Once he had calmed his darling, drying her tears with his handkerchief, he marched into the Finance Department and demanded answers from you as soon as he got off of the phone with his panicked CFO. Instead of apologizing for what you did, you explained how Hyeung Mun-Hee made mistakes and you gave her a chance to fix them, but she did not correct them. She completed the required training. She knows how to calculate and make spreadsheets, so why is she pushing her work onto others?

More importantly, you fixed her mistakes and sent out the correct ones to the other departments. Everything has been resolved, but you wanted Hyeung Mun-Hee to attend the company’s financial seminars to ensure that this embarrassing incident does not happen again. As much as he despised you, every point you made was correct…especially after he retreated to his office and compared the budget allocations on his monitors; Hyeung Mun-Hee’s on the left and yours on the right. The numbers in his darling’s work were completely off, and they could have cost the company hundreds of thousands if the situation hadn’t been resolved.

He was certain that it was sheer dumb luck.

Just because you had prevented a major internal disaster from occurring doesn’t mean he would ever look at you as he looked at Hyeung Mun-Hee. In a cesspool filled with hypocrites and liars, his darling is a breath of fresh air. Pure, kind-hearted, committed. Loving. So many qualities you lacked. Yet is it all that it seems? He thought, sitting alone in his home office late at night. If Hyeung Mun-Hee made these mistakes, why didn’t she just admit it instead of coming to me?

He wanted to believe she was telling the truth, yet the proof is right there on his computer. Like his predecessors, he needed to take on the responsibility of a leader and make sure that the conglomerate’s integrity remained intact. However, he also desired to shelter his darling from the world’s cruelty. Remove her from the department and secretly marry her so that they could be together at last. He is selfish, but he has the right to bask in his own happiness. Unlike some people.

Well, if he can’t outright get the truth from you…then he’ll just have to call in a favor from a certain someone in the underworld. The person in question could set up cameras in your bedroom by slipping in and out of your estate as a groundskeeper or pest control and no one would be the wiser. He could do it for a price and make sure that nothing could be traced back to him. The last thing Yeo Jung-Hwa wanted is to be arrested for illegally filming someone without their consent.

Not when this is an opportunity to sever ties with you completely, once and for all.

Two days later, he received an email and an attachment. When he clicked on it, four camera angles appeared on his desktop. All of them were in your room. But is this really your room? He expected it to be clean with sleek, wooden floors covered by monochrome carpeting and a walk-in closet filled to the brim with extravagant clothes, shoes, purses that she wouldn’t wear twice in her life. The uninspiring minimalist bougie interior design that is being coveted amongst the upper classes. Your taste was much more comforting. It appeared cozy, with soft lighting and warm blankets.

Strings of fairy lights strung up across the ceiling. A full bookshelf was near the bed. The floor was decorated with knitted ottomans and candles. You lit them all back up as soon as you returned from the company, much later in the evening and when he was in his home office, cradling a cup of black coffee.

You disappeared into the back for a moment, returning in a two-piece fleece loungewear with mushrooms and plants on them. Something he had expected to see Hyeung Mun-Hee dressed in, but not you. Were you trying to copy his lover’s tastes so he would pay attention to you? How shameless!

When he flipped the audio on the cameras, he expected to hear snide remarks about Hyeung Mun-Hee or see you talking to someone on the phone about sabotaging the new project coming up soon so that you would take all the credit. Instead, you were…shopping on a furniture site?

“I don’t need another bookcase, or it’ll look too cluttered. I can’t get any more potted plants either. I’ve already done enough renovations here to make it cozy and relaxing. What about…a salt thingy? What’s it called?” You typed a few words in the search engine, [Eye Color] irises brightening in realization. “Oh right, Himalayan salt lamp! That’s not a terrible price for this one! And yarn. I need more yarn to complete that gift for Caretaker Lee’s birthday. Speaking of which, I could work on that tonight. Give my eyes a break from staring at screens all damned day.” You scooted over to the edge of the bed, pulling one drawer outward. You then reached inside, removing knitting needles, yarn and dark red clumps of something. You put on headphones and began to knit.

You, the proud and arrogant Park Seo-yun, was knitting.

You didn’t move from that spot at all, completely focused on your project when a knock came from the bedroom door. A fleeting, fearful look appeared on your face before you frantically shoved all of your materials back in the drawer, sputtering to wait one moment that you weren’t decent before putting on a bored expression, scrolling through your phone and reclining back like a lazy cat. You told them to come in, and an elderly woman in an apron walked in with a wooden tray filled with assorted foodstuff, carefully setting it down on one of the ottomans.��

“Thank you for preparing my midnight snack, Caretaker Lee. I’m sorry it’s been such an inconvenience while I’m reviewing these documents for tomorrow.” You said with a smile. Caretaker Lee shook her head, walking over to your bed. You scooted over so she wouldn’t fall over the edge (presumably, because this entire situation is bizarre to Yeo Jung-Hwa), and she sat down. She smiled down at you, stroking the top of your head.

“This humble one is honored to serve the Park family, especially the hard-working young miss. It cannot be easy, with the current circumstances. Young miss…please forgive me for speaking outright…but are you certain about going through with this engagement? It seems that you have never spent any time with him outside of working at his conglomerate, and any time he has is spent with someone else.”

Yeo Jung-Hwa expected you to hit her, to punish Caretaker Lee for speaking out of turn and to mind her own business. Instead, you stared at her for a long moment, wide-eyed and mouth slightly parted…before your lips curled into a melancholy smile, eyes softening.

“I thank you for your concern, Caretaker Lee. But this is an engagement between my father and the conglomerate’s predecessor. It’s not something that can be broken off so easily with benefits for both parties.” You said. “This is the price to be part of the elite. To sacrifice your happiness for the sake of business.” You then leaned forward, pulling Caretaker Lee into a hug. “It’ll be okay, really. I’m Park Seo-yun. I can take care of myself. And you should be in bed. You’ve got a long drive to see your grandchildren tomorrow morning. Enjoy the weekend, and I’ll see you on Monday.”

“But-”

“I’ll bring the tray down the kitchen when I’m finished.”

“Miss-”

“Nope.”

You then shooed her out of the room, telling Caretaker Lee to send your mother a text as soon as she got to her destination. The old woman smiled sheepishly, wishing you good night and asked you to not stay up too late. Once she was out of the room and the door was closed, you walked back to the bed, shoulders sagging and suddenly looking incredibly tired before you fell face first onto the blankets, legs dangling from the edge. You remained like that for a moment, then picked yourself up and curled up your lower body, grabbing one of the blankets and putting it over your legs. You retrieved your hidden supplies, resuming your knitting, taking five minute breaks in between to eat from the tray. Three more hours passed until you decided to call it a night, blowing out the candles and switching the fairy lights to a lower setting before disappearing into the bathroom. You came back out, grabbed the tray, and vanished.

This isn’t real. It can’t be real. You are a haughty, greedy woman who could care less about commoners, much less servants. You love shopping at boutiques and only want the best of the best in anything. Even in an arranged marriage. He could never be happy with someone like you.

But is all of that true? A nasty little voice in the back of Yeo Jung-Hwa’s mind hissed. Those were rumors created by other women who weren’t pleased that they weren’t good enough to marry you. Park Seo-yun is a stranger to you. You never bothered to know nor care to. Why would you when you have someone you love, Hyeung Mun-Hee?

He didn’t need to, and the fact that he wanted to know the truth about you of all people terrified him. He’s not supposed to care, not to be curious or even concerned about your well-being. This was a strategic engagement, not one born out of mutual affection. He has a role to play in this world after all.

Three weeks had passed since he had the cameras installed, and all Yeo Jung-Hwa had discovered or even learned is that you were a completely different person in your home than at the office.

You work Monday through Fridays, always on time and never staying late unless it was necessary. You returned to your family estate late on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursdays because there was a spinning class at the company gym after your shift on those days. Friday evenings were spent in either your room, holed up and completely focused on knitting or doing something else that helped relax you. If you were staying up late, the servants would provide a midnight snack for you. The portions increased on the days you were at the gym, alluding that you possessed an enormous appetite due to a high metabolism instead of being a glutton as Hyeung Mun-Hee has told him time and time again. You talked to yourself when you were alone, or at least your thoughts before making a decision on something. When he remotely hacked into your laptop to see if he could find any evidence of foul play there, he saw your browsing history contained only decoration aesthetics ideas, healthier snacks to eat at night, local beginner yoga instructors, and shopping at small businesses on Crafty plus one or two high-end boutiques for business casual outfits. Nothing incriminating on any level whatsoever. But he was not going to let you off of the hook that easily.

At work he ignored you entirely, focusing his attention on Hyeung Mun-Hee and blocked your calls so that he didn’t have to talk to you outside of business hours. There was not a single text message or voicemail from you on his cellphone when he unblocked your number yesterday morning after coming into the office. Understandably frustrated and cranky from a lack of proper sleep, he decided to change the deadline for the quarterly income statements and the inspections of the company’s financial software, including reinforcing the firewalls and ensuring there was no fraudulent activity in the company’s transactions to Monday morning.

With this amount of work, he was absolutely certain that it would be your slip-up. That you’d push your assigned tasks to Hyeung Mun-Hee so you could keep working on your knitting projects. Today is Saturday, and you left your house at seven o’clock to go to the office. You stayed awake until midnight typing away on your company laptop, looking over spreadsheets while talking to the head of IT on speaker, arranging a test run on the firewalls on Sunday evening.

Instead of helping the team prepare for everything to be finished at the beginning of the week, Hyeung Mun-Hee was sitting across from him inside a coffee shop, beaming and utterly happy that they were finally out on a date after not being on one for so long, she was getting worried about him. Well…perhaps. Yeo Jung-Hwa glanced down at the shopping bags by their feet. They had gone to trendy high end streets and luxury department stores earlier this morning, with Hyeung Mun-Hee desiring…no, more like insisting that she had at least eight new work outfits so that she would represent his company properly as a team member of the Finance Department.

If that’s true, then why are you here using my black card to shop instead of working at the office? He thought behind a smile as his supposed lover’s words went from one ear and out the other. If you were here with him, he’d probably have been more accepting of indulging in your vices and insisting on paying for everything instead of you, even when you were just as wealthy as he is.

“I’m sure that you will find out why Park Seo-yun is acting so suspiciously!” Hyeung Mun-Hee said in a hushed voice. “I can’t believe you are even associated with such a vile person. She can’t get away with talking down to others like that! She may be rich, but she doesn’t know how to truly appreciate what she has right now!” She giggled. “It’s funny, isn’t it? She has everything, but she still clings to your engagement like a sad puppy! If she truly loves you, then she should have convinced her father to call everything off so that you can be happy. But the rich think differently I guess, right?”

His smile tightened. “Perhaps.” He said, languidly sipping the java chip mocha frappuccino that she bought for him even though he preferred to have his coffee black with no sugar and he’s told her this little tidbit many times. “She is extravagant, but you also have luxurious taste, Hyeung Mun-Hee.”

He watched her eyes widen in surprise and embarrassment, sputtering for a moment before she asked. “W-What are you saying, Yeo Jung-Hwa? You know me! If I had been given a choice to meet up, I would have chosen the downtown area so you could try the street vendors I’ve been talking about!”

And risk my health by getting food poison from reused cooking oil, poorly washed utensils, and ingesting noodles that are too greasy or salty? Absolutely not. He thought with slight irritation.

“Maybe, but we both know that we must be discreet in our interactions, as I’ve told you before.That’s why I suggested we come here, but instead of sampling delicious foods at the restaurants I recommended, you wanted to come here instead after shopping. If I remember correctly, your department is supposed to be presenting a big project on Monday. Why are you here, shopping to your hearts’ content instead of being at the office and helping out the team?”

“W-Why should I be there?” Hyeung Mun-Hee countered, bolting up from her seat as she stared at him in shock. “If I go there, Park Seo-yun will harass me! I can’t work in an environment like that! I did those seminars she told me to do and passed the tests! Can’t I enjoy a day off?!” Fat tears began to build up behind her hazel eyes. “I’ve been working hard enough!”

But you are the one who is putting in the overtime needed to finish the job. You are leading the team to do what needs to be done. Hyeung Mun-Hee is just enjoying the perks of being by his side. Have you eaten lunch yet? Perhaps he can stop by somewhere that allows take-out and bring some to your office under the excuse that he needs to get some work done as well. Dinner too, perhaps?

“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME, YEO JUNG-HWA?!”

He glared at her. “Sit down, Hyeung Mun-Hee.” He hissed, displeased that her shrill voice had attracted unwanted attention from customers who were either sitting at tables or waiting on orders to finish up at the pick-up area. “Finish your drink, and take a taxi back to the city, to your home.”

“It’s still early in the day, we haven’t been out in a while!”

“And I’m tired from the shopping. I don’t need to see what you bought because I already have seen them all at the shops.” He replied tersely. “I need to stop by the office and take care of a few things at the office before I need to go home.”

Hyeung Mun-Hee’s face is a dark shade of purple. Consumed by anger, her mouth hung open, on the brink of another explosive tantrum, as the coffee shop door swung open, exposing its next patron. You.

You stepped up to the pick-up area, looking at the various drinks with a pensive expression before waving down a barista. “Excuse me.” You said. “I’m here to pick up a mobile order for several drinks under Park. When will they be ready? I need to hurry back to the office with caffeine for my employees or things are going to get ugly.” The handbag hung from your wrist as you fished out your phone, presumably showing the online order to the young man. He looked at you before smiling at you.

“We’ll have it done in just a moment, ma’am.”

Is it wrong for Yeo Jung-Hwa to desire the bright smile you gave to that insignificant commoner when you did not know he was here with Hyeung Mun-Hee?

Congratulations, Congratulations, Congratulations!

Important things must be said three times.

The viewership score for Episode 52 has arrived!

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#forbidden-sunlight #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere #ns.fw #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere!ceo #cw obsessive behavior #tw obsessive behavior #cw noncon #tw noncon #cw cheating #tw cheating #cw work toxicity #tw work toxicity

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

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The Challenge {1/2}

Aemond Targaryen x fem!bladesmith!reader Summary: Prince Aemond commissions your services but it gets off to a rocky start. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, sassy attitude, masturbation, unprotected sex WC: 5.6k

HOTD Masterlist || Part One || Part Two

The full force of the heat from the forge blasted your face as you grabbed the length of steel with your tongs. The long sword would be mighty when she was complete but it was a long way off from that.

Your arms were aching from the hours spent in the workshop but you ignored the weight of them as you lay the steel on the anvil and hefted a hammer off the tool rack. Every hit was aimed with precision as you folded the steel over adding strength and shaping the blade until the glowing metal dimmed as it cooled.

Sweat dripped down your forehead and you swiped it from your eyes with the back of your sleeve before making your way back to the fire pit and starting the process again. It was repetitive work but you were never bored by the process because every blade was unique and made especially for its owner. Swords like yours could not be found anywhere else in the Seven Kingdoms and that was why buyers travelled from far and wide.

“Boy, where is your master?”

You turned slowly away from the dancing flames that had kept you mesmerised while the blade heated. “Excuse me?” you asked as you tugged at the cloth that was tied across your face to save inhaling smoke all day and protect your hair from being singed.

“Oh,” the man chuffed as his dark brows shot up his forehead, “you are the bladesmith?”

You looked around the workshop that was void of anyone else before looking back at him. “You are a clever one.”

His lips pursed at the sarcastic remark and he stepped forward, his armour clattering with the movement. It was then you noticed the white cloak that was pinned to his shoulders by a dragon broach. “You are a long way from King’s Landing.”

“I was told there was a master bladesmith in this town but there must be a misunderstanding, though I did not see another workshop around,” he trailed off as he looked at a few of the swords hanging on the walls.

You turned back to the flames and rotated the blade to even out the heat dispersation. “No misunderstanding, there is no other bladesmith here.”

The soldier crossed the small room to get a closer look at the swords and made a small sound of surprise at the details and designs of the hilts. “These are remarkable.” He turned back to you and watched as you tightened the hold on the tongs and removed the blade from the fire to rest it on the anvil. “My prince is in need of a new sword, one that is fitting of his title. You will make it and personally deliver it to King’s Landing to present on his name day.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him as you raised the hammer, one well aimed hit would be enough to knock the entitled tone from his mouth but one word would also do. “No.”

The coins in the purse that sat in his hand jangled as his fist tightened around it and you ignored the flare of anger that tinted his cheeks as you beat the steel into shape while it was hot and malleable. “Your prince demands a great sword.”

You paused to look around the room once more, waving the hammer to the empty doorway as you spoke, “I do not see a prince.”

A growl of frustration gurgled in his throat before he turned on his heel and stormed out of the workshop, slamming the old wooden door closed behind him.

“Arrogant prick,” you muttered under your breath as you returned to work.

The sun had set hours ago but the workshop was alight with the forge fire as you made the finishing touches on a curved scimitar for a client who had come from Braavos with the design.

The blade gleamed in the firelight as you ran the whetstone down its edge until you were satisfied it could cut through a skull with a single slice. Along with an engraving of the shield of Braavos, the hilt was gilded with gold and had a small blood-red ruby nestled into the top. It really was a magnificent piece, even if you were a little biassed.

Placing the sword into the velvet lined box that had been built by your trusted carpenter, you closed the latch and placed it on a clean benchtop so it would be ready for the gentleman to pick up on the morrow.

You double checked the windows were locked before stoking the fire one last time to keep it warm overnight and making your way out of the workshop that was littered with projects. Lists of jobs to be done and ore to be bought ran through your head, the endless stream of debt and credit being calculated as you walked. You were so caught up thinking about your business that you missed the body that filled the dark doorway you were stepping out of.

“What in the Seven Hells do you-” your words died out as you looked up from the leather clad chest you had hit and found a smirk on the lips above.

It wasn’t the immaculate tunic, silvery hair or violet eye that gave away the man before you, though they all screamed royalty, it was the long-healed scar and eye patch. Prince Aemond, or Aemond One-Eye behind his back, had come to your workshop.

Beside the prince stood the soldier who had visited only a few days earlier and his attitude did not appear to have lessened in his time away. Recovering from the shock of a prince standing before you, you dipped into a curtsey and stepped back into your workshop.

“Your highness, what brings you here?”

Prince Aemond walked in with a straight spine and puffed chest, taking in the shadows with a keen eye to spy any threat hiding within. He ignored your question and his soldier remained in the doorway, watching his prince see the work of your craft.

“The hour is late and I am tired, why have you come all the way from King’s Landing?”

“My Prince is here for his sword,” the soldier answered.

“I have no sword for the prince.” You placed your hand on the box holding the latest creation as the prince reached for it. “That is not yours.”

Prince Aemond placed his hands behind his back and pursed his lips. “She is rude, isn’t she, Ser Criston, and filthy.”

“I did warn you,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Do not speak of me as if I am not here,” you commented dryly. “Your manners are no better barging in here not once but twice. I suppose you are used to getting your way.”

“I could have your head for disrespecting me,” Prince Aemond warned as his hand came to rest on his hilt.

Your chin lifted higher in defiance as you retorted, “Then you will ensure you never possess a sword of the greatest craftsmanship. That is why you are here, is it not?”

Aemond stepped closer and dipped his head as he towered over you to catch your chin in his hand. “There are plenty of other bladesmiths like you. Ones that do not come with such a mouth.”

Your lips pulled back at the insult and you wretched your head from his tight grip as you snarled, “There is no one like me.”

The smirk playing at his bow shaped lips grew as he dared you, “Prove it.”

“Fine,” you hissed before smacking his hand away that reached for the scimitar’s box again. “I shall make you a fine sword that will be the envy of all who see it. It will be longer than all others and require two hands just to wield it, a fair compensation for what lords who request such swords are often lacking.”

Ser Criston looked away with a pinched face while Prince Aemond chuckled darkly and pulled the protective cloth from your head. “I cannot speak for these other lords, but I assure you Targaryen men do not lack in length.”

You looked him up and down. “I was not talking about your height.”

His lips twitched in amusement and he tossed your cloth back before turning away. “Neither was I.”

The prince stopped beside his soldier and whispered something before he clattered his way over and grabbed your arm tightly. “You’re coming with us.”

You struggled against the hold but it was impossible to break as he dragged you out the door and down the street to the only inn the small village had. “You’re a damn brute!” you hissed as you kicked at his shin only to cry out as your toes slammed into the metal armour.

“Such a temper,” Prince Aemond tutted with a laugh. “Be careful. You’ll hurt yourself and I don’t want any delays in getting my sword.”

Ser Criston pushed you into a booth and stood guard while the prince slipped into the other side, waving a hand towards the waitress who rushed off to the bar. A few heads turned to the prince before blanching and quickly giving their attention back to the stew and ale in front of them. They were afraid.

“How is dragging me here going to help finish your sword any faster?” you asked as a draft of beer was placed in front of you by the waitress.

The prince delicately sniffed his drink before taking a sip and his nose crinkled slightly at the taste of the penny ale. “You look like you could use a hot meal. You will be of no use to me if you fall sick.”

Your eyebrows pinched together and you looked down at your filthy fingernails, soot covering you from head to toe. You looked like a beggar, possibly even worse, but you were far from it. “My staff keeps me fed far better than anything that can be found in this place, thank you very much. And, I know I don’t look it after spending a long day in the workshop but I am very well off so I do not want to see pity in that eye of yours.”

You enjoyed the surprise that flitted across his face as you pushed the disgusting ale away and rose from the table. “If you wish to eat whatever diseased ridden animal they have found in the alley, feel free to stay and take your chances.”

You pushed past the soldier and he let you, instead turning his attention to the prince still sitting at the table stunned. “My prince, I believe she was inviting you to dinner.”

Aemond frowned at his guard. “Then why would she not just say that?”

You heard the metal armour rattle as Ser Criston shrugged and looked back over your shoulder to catch the prince’s confused stare. “I did, you just do not understand woman-speak unlike your counterpart here. Do you not talk to the ladies in your court?”

“I have better ways to spend my time,” he uttered as he followed you out of the inn. “Fetch the horses, Cole.”

“No need, my home is not far,” you interrupted, continuing on your way and letting them decide whether to follow.

You chose the workshop because it was close to the home you had inherited from your father. He had been a merchant, bringing precious metals from his travels until his heavily laden ship had been caught in a storm and been dragged to the bottom of the Narrow Sea. You could hardly remember losing him as a child but you could remember the pretty metals he had brought home. It was what led you to learning the art of metalwork, eventually finding your niche in high quality swords.

The men walked in silence, though you saw Ser Criston constantly keeping track of the surroundings with his hand on the pommel of his sword. Soon enough the stone walls of your property came into view and you reached the gated archway that was always kept locked since there was no ‘lord of the house’ to protect it.

The property would have been long lost to the taxman if your business were not so successful, the wealthy buyers willing to part with large sums of coin to have a sword made by you. It was satisfying to see the shock and surprise on the prince's face when the trees parted and the large home appeared.

The ornate front door swung open as you reached the steps and Gerry curtseyed as she saw the company you kept. “Mistress, I was about to come in search of you.”

“You worry too much.” You pulled the heavy fireproof cloak off your shoulders and passed it over to her to hang in the coat closet. “We have company for dinner and will require two more settings.”

“Of course, mistress. Your bath is already drawn upstairs and I will have Kasia lay out more,” her eyes flicked to the prince, “fitting clothes.”

You laughed at the preposterous idea and shook your head. “This is my home and I am not a doll to be dressed up for anyone’s amusement, least of all the prince’s. I will wear my usual.” You dismissed her with a nod of your head and pointed to the adjoining room where most receptions were held. “You two can wait in there.”

“So bossy,” the prince murmured as he turned away to see the paintings that lined the walls.

Ser Criston took more offence and coldly warned, “Remember who it is you are speaking to.”

“How could I forget,” you teased as you made your way to the stairs and swept into a curtsey to the prince who had followed your movement with his eye. “I am but your obedient servant.”

“You little-”

Aemond caught Ser Criston’s arm as he made to reach for you and shook his head. “Tis a game, Cole, and she is playing you.”

Your bottom lip pouted as he ruined your fun and you realised the prince was smarter than you had given him credit for, assuming he was just another entitled, spoilt lord. Those types of men you could deal with but this one was different and wasn’t afraid to call you out. It was intriguing.

His eye lingered on your pouting lip and from the dark look you wondered if he enjoyed the attitude you gave him or wanted to spank it from you. After a moment you decided you would be happy with either one. He might have been an entitled asshole, but he was a handsome one and you were not immune to his looks.

You spun away and hastily climbed the stairs when you realised you had been staring at him for too long.

You could only breathe again once you were safely shut behind your bedroom door and wished you hadn’t seen the look in his eye. The heat of it still remained on your lips and you traced a finger over them before shaking the thought away.

‘He’s just like every other lord you have worked for,’ you told yourself as you began to strip out of your sooty and sweaty clothes. ‘Actually, he’s worse. He didn’t even have the decency to ask for a sword politely. Coming into my shop and demanding one,’ you scoffed at the conversation in your head, ‘who does he think he is?’

You dropped into the warm water that was nowhere near as hot as you usually had but the late hour had let it cool so you worked quickly to wash your body before it turned tepid. There was a moment when you were towelling yourself dry that you looked at your closest and thought of wearing one of the many dresses your old governess had purchased for you before you came of age, but it soon passed and you grabbed the pair of loose breeches and cotton shirt that was laid out.

The two men were conversing quietly in the reception room after helping themselves to the carafe of wine that was kept there and they both turned as you entered. Ser Criston spluttered on his wine, the red drops splattering down his armour as he coughed and looked away.

The attire was certainly not what they would have been used to seeing from the ladies in the Red Keep but you would always choose comfort over style and that would not change just because there was a prince in your home.

“You act as if you have seen something scandalous, Ser Criston,” you said, impelling him to interact while his ears burned red.

“Those are underclothes,” he said without looking away from the curtains he was transfixed on.

You chuckled and looked at the prince instead. “I would never wear such things in front of his highness. I find them far too cumbersome.”

Ser Criston dropped his goblet entirely and you bit your lip to hide the laughter that was bubbling in your chest as the red wine cascaded across the floor.

“Oh dear, you would think your guard would have a steadier hand.”

Whatever retort was on the prince's lips was forgotten when Gerry entered and announced that dinner was ready. But it wasn’t forgiven as he sent his guard to follow your housemaid and caught your arm in his large hand when you walked by, pressing his body close so he could dip his head to your ear and whisper, “You are playing with fire.”

You tipped your head back to look him in the eye and the movement gave him a clear line of sight down the front of your shirt, proving you were in fact not wearing any underclothes. “I play with fire everyday, my prince, but I have yet to be burned.” You pulled away with a smirk and swore you heard his teeth grind in his clenched jaw. “Dinner will be getting cold.”

“That mouth will be the end of you,” he uttered as he swaggered behind you into the dining room.

The table was laden with all manner of dishes but you could hardly eat as you kept catching Prince Aemond’s eye in the seat opposite. Gerry had likely set the plates that way on purpose, so the prince would be at the head of the table like you.

It was how the table would be formally set if you were to ever take a husband. That was an unlikely event. Despite enjoying the company of men on occasion, you had no interest in sharing your home with one. Men were best set free after you were spent.

The table had just been cleared and a sweet pudding was on its way from the kitchen when rain began to patter softly on the roof. The downpour only grew louder over dessert and you placed your spoons down with a sigh. “Gerry?”

Your housemaid stepped into the room a little too eagerly and sent the prince a small bashful smile and it irked you that his lips curled up slightly in return. “Prepare two rooms. They can hardly walk back in this weather.”

“It’s only a little rain,” the prince said.

“I’ll not have you catch your death on my watch,” you shot back.

He wiped his lips with his napkin to hide the smile growing on his face. “Sounds like you care.”

You scoffed at his arrogance and reassured him, “I care about my money, which I won’t get if you die.”

“My prince,” Ser Criston whispered loudly, “I don’t think this is wise.”

“It appears safer than the inn, and we have determined she would rather me survive our stay - for her money of course.”

You nodded in agreement as you reached the stairs and the soldier barely suppressed the resigned sigh that came from the heavy breath he took. “It’s settled then. I will take your measurements and preferences for the sword on the morrow then you may be on your way back to King’s Landing.”

The bath had been removed, the fire had been stoked and the room was balmy when you bid your guests farewell and stepped inside. The door next to yours closed and you heard the men speaking in the room but couldn’t make out their words before the door opened and closed again and Ser Criston’s armour clattered with him to the room further down the hall.

Satisfied you wouldn’t be disturbed until morning, you tossed your clothes to the floor and climbed atop the blankets knowing it would be too hot to sleep under them until the fire dwindled. Despite being exhausted your mind refused to quiet and let you rest, instead you were hyper-aware of the male specimen on the bed that shared your wall.

It had been too long since you last indulged in a man and now it showed.

Your fingers traced the swell of your breasts before dancing their way down your navel to where you needed to be touched most. You jolted as the pad of your middle finger swept over your clit and found you were already sensitive from the verbal sparring of the evening and a soft moan escaped with your exhale.

Your core ached with the need to be filled and you palmed your breast with one hand, teasing your nipple, as you parted your folds with the other. Fuck, you were wet. The evidence sounded around you as you curled your fingers in search of the delicious spot that would send stars twirling around your vision.

You were completely absorbed in your own pleasure and could no longer bite your lip to keep quiet as you erupted around your fingers, your walls clenching around them as your palm rubbed your clit and sent aftershocks trembling across your body.

A final deep groan filled the room and it took a moment to realise the sound had not come from you. It was purely masculine. And coming from the other side of the wall.

The satisfaction of your release was lost to a new need and you shifted up the bed, pressing your ear to the wall in the hopes of hearing it once again. Holding your breath, you waited.

“Uh,” the prince grunted and there was a thud beside your head, as if he had callously thrown his own back from where he sat among the pillows. “That filthy mouth. This would shut you up.”

You inhaled sharply and stared at the wall as if you could magically see through it.

Was he thinking about you as he touched himself? Was he stroking his cock and imagining your lips wrapped around it?

You sat back against the wall and let your knees fall apart as you hung on every word that spilled from the prince's lips. Your fingers could not fill you as a cock could and did not reach the depth you were chasing and you gave a strangled cry of frustration before slamming a hand over your mouth.

The room fell silent, and so did his.

The air was heavy as you waited to hear any sign he was still there but nothing came and the tightening in your core was lost to time.

Knock. Knock.

They were quiet, almost silent knocks, but there was no denying that someone was at your door.

You tore the blanket from the bed as you rose and wrapped the material around your naked body before opening the door just a crack. Even without candlelight it was impossible to mistake the shadowed man for anyone but the prince with his silvery hair.

He did not wait for an invitation as he pushed the door wider and closed it behind him, a finger pressed to his lips before pointing to the messy bed and whispering, “Trouble sleeping?”

In the firelight you could see the flush on his cheeks and his tunic buttons were not aligned after hastily dressing himself in the dark. You reached a hand out of the folds of the blanket that swamped you and flicked the clasp he hadn’t done up low on his hips. “Thin walls, your highness.”

“Hmmm,” he hummed and you swore you felt the deep reverberations in your core. “Then you shall have to keep quiet.”

Your heart beat rapidly at the thought and the need between your legs throbbed in time to your pulse but, defiant to the end, you lifted your head and challenged him once more. “Make me.”

The fire reflected in his eye and those bow lips curled up at the dare. He would not back down, not when you were so provocative.

His hand moved faster than you could follow and in a heartbeat your blanket was torn away to bare your entire self to him. The hunger in his eye exploded and your body heated as he feasted upon every inch, unblinking. He drank in the sight from your peaked nipples, stiff from your touch, down to the glistening evidence of your release at the junction of your thighs.

His movements flowed like water as he spun you around, one hand splayed across your chest to hold you against him while his other parted your legs. “Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he whispered in your air as he dragged his fingers through your folds, coating them in your slick before gliding over your clit. “I could hear you too.”

Your head fell back onto his shoulder and your hands reached up to tangle in his hair as you rolled your hips. “I don’t want this,” you said with a suppressed moan. “But I need it so just fuck me already.”

“That filthy mouth,” he growled before clamping his hands on your shoulders and shoving you to your knees. The clasps of his tunic were torn open as he circled you and freed his cock, the hard length springing forward. His thumb traced your bottom lip as it parted and your tongue darted across it in anticipation as he said, “Put it to good use.”

You snapped your teeth at him and smirked as he narrowed his eye at you, but he didn’t retreat when you reached for him. His cock was warm and hard in your hand and you stroked the length that he had definitely not exaggerated, teasing him as you swirled your tongue around the swollen tip.

A throaty moan filled the air and you rolled your eyes up to see his jaw slack with the pleasure you were giving him.

It was satisfying to see the calm and collected prince come undone. He was so completely vulnerable at your hand, and the thought set your body on fire as you took him deeper in your mouth.

“Seven hells, you are sin.”

Your fingers danced over the silken skin of his balls, gently squeezing and rolling them until they began to tighten and another guttural sound erupted. It was your turn to hum as you pulled back and tasted the bead of precum that escaped the slit before rising to your feet.

“Come.” You took his hand and led him to the bed, pushing him down among the sheets. “It’s my turn.”

He let you get as far as straddling his hips before he twisted and flipped you beneath him, pinning your hands above your head. “You are a very bossy woman.”

“How else am I to get what I want?”

His dark smile grew and you knew you wouldn’t like his answer. “You could always say please.”

You sent him a dangerously sweet smile and blinked innocently at him. “Unless you are going to fuck me, please get out of my room.”

He clamped a hand over your mouth as he lined himself up with your dripping entrance and filled you with a rough thrust that stole the air from your lungs. Your moans were silenced by his hand as he reached the parts of you that your fingers could never truly satisfy and your fingernails found purchase on his tunic as you arched closer to his body.

“You knew what you were doing at dinner,” he growled in your ear as he pulled your leg higher over his hips. “Do you do this with all of your clients?”

His hand slipped away and you gasped in a deep breath, the ability to focus difficult with the pressure building in your core. “Only the attractive ones.”

You couldn’t tell if the honesty angered him or spurred him but he drove in deeper, pistoning his hips with a relentless pace.

Your cries would have woken the entire household if he didn’t cover your mouth again but it didn’t stop him from pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The tightening low in your belly reached breaking point and your eyes rolled back as the force of the orgasm ripped through your body from head to toes.

You were a quivering mess when he pulled out and fisted his cock that glistened with your release, pumping up and down, once, twice, then spilled his seed across your skin. His chest rose and fell quickly and his cock twitched as he drained every last drop with a shaky hand.

Unable to resist another taste, you dragged a finger through the mess he had painted on your skin and tasted his come. It was just as decadent as indulging in a nip of brandy after a meal.

“You have no shame,” he chuckled as he tucked his cock back in his trousers and began to clasp his tunic back together.

“I like what I like, I don’t see the point in pretending otherwise.” You climbed off the bed onto weak legs and grabbed the corner post to stabilise yourself. The look of pure masculine pride filled his face as he saw your stumble and he swiped your blanket from where it had been discarded on the floor. You took it from his hand and noticed the temperature in the room had dropped since the dalliance began, draping it over your shoulders but leaving the middle open so he could enjoy the sight a moment longer. “Goodnight, your highness.”

He opened the door and grinned as he combed his mussed hair back from his face. “Twas.”

The door shut silently and you fell back onto your bed with a satisfied sigh and the smile on your lips remained until long after you fell asleep.

The prince was quite the actor when you met him in the dining room to break your fast. Given the fresh face and lack of reaction to your entrance you almost believed you had conjured last night's events in a dream.

Almost.

The ache between your legs could not be imagined, nor could the evidence of your union that you had washed off your skin.

“Good morning,” you greeted the men as you took your seat and looked over the prince. “I trust you slept well.”

He spared a cube of melon with his fork and inspected the fruit. “The bedding was adequate.”

“Your hospitality is appreciated,” Ser Criston said after giving his prince a questioning look that was ignored. At least he appeared to have woken with better manners. He didn’t even choke or comment on the fact that you wore a silk robe imported from Lys, and nothing else.

You inclined your head at the compliment before turning your attention back to the prince. “Do you have an inclination to any particular sword type?”

“A long sword, straight blade.” He placed the fruit back on the table without eating it, as if he had lost his appetite. “Light-weight, so it can be wielded with one hand should I need it. And, a dragon’s head carved into the pommel.”

You committed the details to memory, already imagining the finished piece, and rose from the table to get a measuring tape from the table in the study. You gestured for the prince to rise from his seat and dropped to your knees.

You were acutely aware of last night's memory in the same position and from the deep swallow the prince took you knew he was seeing the same scene too. The tape unravelled from your fingers and you measured the distance from heel to hip to know the maximum length the blade could be.

“Your sword will be ready to be picked up in three weeks,” you said as you rolled the tape up again.

“No,” Prince Aemond interrupted, “you will bring it to the Red Keep and present it yourself at the tourney for my name day. What better way to win than with such a fine sword at my hip.”

You quirked an eyebrow at the information. “You, competing in a tourney? That is something I would pay to see.”

“Prince Aemond is one of the greatest fighters in the Seven Kingdoms,” Ser Criston stated boldly as he rose to his feet in anger. “His swordsmanship skills are unrivalled.”

“With what experience - fighting soldiers that are fed by the coin of the king?” you challenged. “Unless he is to enter the tourney anonymously he has already won by default. No one would dare strike the prince for fear of their own death.”

Ser Criston opened his mouth to argue but the prince beat him to it. “You are right. It would not be a fair fight.” Prince Aemond pursed his lips as he paced the dining room. “Cole, I shall enter the tourney under your name. And you,” he faced you with an arrogance only a prince could muster, “will present me with the sword when I win.”

He held his hand out to seal the deal and you paused, your palm almost touching his. “And if you lose?”

His smirk grew as he looked to his guard and laughed, “I never lose.”

Click here for part two.

#aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond smut #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic

858 notes · View notes

poraphia · 5 months

Note

Maybe the soap opera drama has a tight grip on my braincells BUT

imagine siren with a love interest who keeps. Getting. Into. Bad. Relationships.

not BAD bad relationships, just— people that are kind of pricks. One guy accidentally leaves the door open and their cats escape (and he doesn’t give a single fuck, just keeps watching tv and when the reader comes home from work he’s like “oh yeah ur cats escaped a few hours ago”), another never shows up on dates, one is just an arrogant prick, the other is boring as hell and has nothing in common with the reader——

Just

that must STING for siren. Like—— he’s right there????? He’d never think that he would be ENTITLED to a relationship with the reader, NEVER— but why can’t he be your type??

10/10 angst for him id say

he can’t even convince himself that he would be BETTER for the reader because he’s a villain

idk

"i found your cat, not him."

➵ PAIRING! clinic!siren!wilbur x civilian!taken!reader

➵ CREATING! 12.17.23 | 3631 words

➵ CONTAINING! jealous wilbur, reader has a cat, reader has a bf, jester talking some sense into siren, heartbroken wilbur

➵ SAYING! this took some days to work on but look! it’s finally done! i had a lot of ups and downs and probably switched up the plot a couple times but here it is :D thank uuu @listenheresweaty for suggesting this honestly i was thinking about writing this the moment u suggested it and now i have free time so yippie. hope yall enjoy :D

My masterlist :)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

(y/n) had a reputation to have a terrible taste in partners. Whether it be a girlfriend that refused to take them on a date and made (y/n) plan all of the dates out, or the boyfriend they had now, who “accidentally” left the door open, letting their cat escape. Wilbur watched from the window as the desperate (y/n) approached any passerby, showing a picture of their feline, just to have any sort of direction as to where it might be.

Wilbur wasn’t a hero of any sorts. The clothes on his back were purchased with money robbed from the bank down the street, and the laptop he was using to do his work on was stolen from some tech store in the mall. And don’t even get him started on his body count that could fill a graveyard. His powers were venom dripping from his tongue, and he was nothing but a snake.

So what made Wil get up from his seat to tap the shoulder of a helpless (y/n)?

Maybe because this person was an interest of Wil’s for quite some time now. From seeing them inside the coffee shop from time to time, to even catching the glimpse of the back of their head as they boarded the bus— It was like this person was meant to be in Wil’s life. Though he just never had the excuse to go up to them. So instead, for weeks now, he has been admiring this person from afar, seeking for some type of opportunity to spark up a conversation.

“Hey.. Are you alright?” He asked. (y/n) turned around, a little out of breath from quickly speaking to anyone who approached them.

“Y-Yeah— no! No..” She sighed, breathlessly. They slumped against a nearby wall, almost defeated. “I— I lost my cat. She’s this sweet white ragdoll with a pink collar and big black eyes. My boyfriend left the door open and she just snuck right out! He said the cat’s been gone for a while now and he didn’t even bother helping.” They trailed off. “I know she’s here somewhere.. I don’t know..” They buried their face into their hands, frustrated with themself.

Wilbur looked at them with a tilted head and puffed up cheeks. Despite this being a stranger, he couldn’t help but feel a panging guilt in his chest. “Hey,” He placed a hand on their shoulder. “I think I might be able to find her.”

“..You think so?” They responded in a meek voice.

“I’m sure..” He replied in a gentle tone. “I usually work like really late in the city. Maybe I could find her on my way home? Just give me some form of communication and a picture and I’m sure I can find her.” He smiled reassuringly. (y/n)’s head perked up, and suddenly their face was beaming with hope. It was a look Wilbur wished he could screenshot with his eyes and keep it in his mind gallery.

“Thank you! You don’t know how much this means to me.” They gleamed. “Hold on— Let me give you my phone number. What was your name again?”

Something about this question made Wil freeze up a little. This complete stranger, telling him that he’s a good person, is also asking for his name? I mean, it’s not like its the first time someone asked his name. But being asked in such a kind and polite way, it almost took him back to when he first met Phil.

He shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Wilbur,” He finally said. “Call me Wil.”

After exchanging contact information they parted their separate ways. Wil decided to pack up his stuff and head back home. He took the train to his neighborhood and spent the whole ride staring at this picture of (y/n) with their cat he learned was named “Anvil.”

The picture was a selfie taken by (y/n) with Anvil pressing her fluffy face against her owner’s soft skin. It was a cute sentiment captured by their phone camera, and Wilbur knew it was a treasured picture of theirs. He took the time to admire the cat’s features. It had a mess of white fur, and would definitely stick out like a sore thumb in the midnight dark. The train came to a halt as it had arrived to Wil’s destination. It didn’t take but a fifteen minute to arrive home.

Wilbur inserted the keys into the doorknob before pushing the door open. He kicked the door behind him closed as he placed his coat and shoes by the shoe cabinet and dresser.

“Hey, Wil,” Phil called from the kitchen.

“Hey, dad.” He shouted back. Wil threw his bag onto the couch before sliding against the sleek wooden floor to the entrance of the kitchen. Phil’s wings were loosely hanging behind him as the man stir fried some ingredients into a wok. “What’s for dinner?” Wil asked.

“Oh, just some fried rice.” Phil shrugged. “Whatcha do today? Hang out at the cafe?”

“Ah, yeah, pretty much.” Wil said, leaning against the fridge. “I, uh, met someone today.”

“Oh?” Phil said, raising an eyebrow. “Someone, you say?”

“What— Hey! It’s not like that..” Wil rolled his eyes while crossing his arms. However that wasn’t enough to convince Phil.

“Well if you say so.” Phil smirked. “So, what happened?”

Wil turned around and grabbed a glass from the cabinet before pouring himself a glass of ice cold water. He took a sip before speaking. “Well, there was this person and— I’m not quite sure what it was about them but.. They had lost their cat, and I felt really bad, so I offered to help them. They sounded so kind and stuff, but like— Apparently their cat ran away because their stupid boyfriend decided to leave the door open?! And he didn’t ever bother to help—!” Wil took a deep breath before bringing the glass back to his lips.

“—Oi, what are you bitching about?” As if on queue, Tommy emerged from the stairs. His hair was a ruffled his mess and he stumbled a little as he walked as if he had just woken up.

“Oh, Wil is just upset about someone he just met losing their cat—” Phil tried to explain, but Wil was quick to butt in.

“They didn’t lose their cat! It was their damn boyfriend!” He corrected. “Like, for hours he even knew the cat escaped and he just let it happen?!”

“Uh oh, looks like big Wil over here is catching feelings!” Tommy snickered as he wrapped an arm around Wil’s neck.

“Ugh, stop—” Wil pushed him away, but Tommy was persistent with his teasing.

“Little Wilbur has a crushy wushy and will find that cat and propose to them OoOoOo!” Tommy chirped.

“—Dad! Tommy’s being a bitch!” Wil cried as he struggled to escape Tommy’s grasp. After enough pushing, Wil was able to shove Tommy away before forcing Tommy into a headlock.

“Hey! Agh— Get off me you big bastard!” Tommy exclaimed. But Wilbur stood firm as he restricted Tom’s limbs by embracing him tightly.

“Both of you stop playing in the kitchen! Now, go get Techno because the food is ready.” Phil ordered, sternly.

Reluctantly, Wil released his grip from Tommy. Tom rubbed his arms and gave a big side-eye look to Wil.

“Bitch.” Tom muttered.

“Tommy! Go!” Phil ordered again, leaving Wilbur a snickering mess as Tom did his walk of shame toward the steps.

After dinner with the Soots (and some convincing to the family that Wilbur was not in love with this stranger he had just met), Wil dressed in his disguise and entered the night as Siren, a profound villain known in L’manburg city. His first task at hand was to find Anvil in Eastside.

He sauntered through the night with his hands in his pockets and his eyes lurking the streets. The night was cold and quiet with only the hum of the streetlights occupying his ears. But his only goal was to listen to the sweet meow of a cat lost and frigid. Every alleyway he came across he made sure to go through it thoroughly, making sure that the cat wasn’t stuck in a garbage can or in a cardboard box.

“Fuck, where is this cat..?” Siren muttered under his breath. He began whistling, making any noise imaginable to summon the feline. To no avail, no cats came running his way. Instead, a rather confused Jester jumped down from a building and right in front of Siren.

“What.. Are you doing?” Jester asked. Though he was wearing his mask, Siren could already tell he was furrowing his eyebrows.

Siren scoffed before continuing to walk. “I’m looking for a cat.” He replied. “But I can’t find her anywhere. I’m supposed to get her before the morning so I can return it to its owner.”

Jester followed behind him, his hands behind his back. “And this is important because..?”

“I-It’s important to me!” Siren retaliated, but if anything, it made him seen more desperate.

Jester sighed before shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you’re doing this just to impress someone.”

“I-I don’t know man.” Siren finally admitted, though he continued looking left and right in an attempt to find (y/n)’s cat.

“Siren, you know we can’t be doing this— y’know, trying to date and all of that. We’re villains. What do we do if they find out, and the whole syndicate is reported? Plus, you know how we are. We’re ‘evil.’” Jester made sure to put the last word into air quotes. “At least to society we are. We have to face the truth—”

Though Jester’s words were going one ear and out the other, some of them still stuck in Siren’s head. Sure, this wasn’t the first time Siren wanted to form a close bond with someone outside of the syndicate— I mean look at Tommy. He adjusted comfortably. But I guess this time it was different. This was a complete stranger that he met as a civilian, and now he was out as Siren looking for their cat! The more Siren thought about, the more he felt foolish.

Suddenly, a loud meow could be heard from an alleyway just to the left of Siren. Jester ceased his talking and looked at Siren, who was staring at Jester right back.

“Is that the—”

“Shhh..” Siren brought his finger to his lips to quiet down Jester. Slowly, Siren approached the alleyway with Jester steadily following behind him. Lo and behold was Anvil, perched on top of a cardboard box that sat right on top of a garbage can.

“How’re you going to get it?” Jester whispered.

“Just watch.” Siren cleared his throat. He picked up a spare cardboard box that was lying around and held it up near ground level for the cat to easily jump into. “Anvil, come and sit in this box.”

A moment of silence passes between the three of them as the cat laid comfortably in her seat, not planning to move anytime soon.

“Uh, was that supposed to do something?” Jester asked sarcastically. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“What the.. Anvil, come here now!” I demanded once again. As if taunting me, the cat simply licked her paws in response. Jester couldn’t help but to burst out laughing.

“Are you telling me your powers don’t work on cats?!” Jester gasped between laughs. “That’s fucking hilarious! Hopefully the Heroes won't find out about this one!”

“Shut up, dude!” Siren fussed at him. It took a bit for Jester to settle down his laughter with hands up out of protest.

“Sorry, sorry.. I just think it’s way too fucking funny.”

“Help me get this fucking cat, dude!” Siren exclaimed, clearly annoyed now. Siren turned around, now facing the cat again. He decided to kneel down to ground level with the box now on the floor.

Siren whistled to grab the feline’s attention. “C’mere, Anvil! Come here, buddy!” But the cat simply ignored the masked man.

“Hm, do you have a picture of the owner?” Jester asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah—” Siren took out his phone and tapped on a few things before pulling up the picture of (y/n) and Anvil. Siren looked at it one last time before showing the screen to Jester. He studied the face carefully, even grabbing the phone himself for him to examine.

Then with a simple head shake, Jester transformed his face into (y/n). It was an uncomfortable sight seeing their head on Jester’s body, but it definitely sparked the interest of Anvil.

“Come here, Anvil, come here!” Jester exclaimed as knelt down. Even his voice was near identical to (y/n). Obediently, the cat hopped off of the garbage can and into the arms of Jester, purring gingerly as she snuggled into his chest. I gave Jester an amused look as he smirked smugly.

“So, am I getting paid for this?” Jester asked as he carefully placed the feline into the box.

“To be fair, you volunteered to help. I didn’t ask.” Siren replied.

“Touche.”

Siren and Jester walked together until they were able to change into civilian clothes to avoid any conflict. It was important for Jester to maintain the face of (y/n) to keep the cat as calm as possible. Despite Siren knowing that it was just his friend and business associate under that form, he couldn’t help but stare at the face of (y/n). How their hair flowed as they walked and how their eyes glowed even under the moonlight. It felt too enchanting to even be real.

“Hey, you good bro?” Jester’s voice was the only thing to throw Siren out of his delusions.

“Yeah— yeah I’m fine.” Siren muttered, looking away. Jester rolled his eyes before sighing.

“Dude, what did I just say about getting attached to anyone?” Jester lectured once again.

“I— I know.” Siren replied defeatedly. “I know..”

“It’s dangerous for you, and whoever this—” Jester pointed as his own face. “—person you’re so infatuated with. It would be dangerous for not only you, but for them too. Imagine how much trouble they would be in knowing that they’re in relations with a supervillain.”

“I know, Jester!” Siren cried. The both of them stopped in their tracks. Even the cat laid still in it’s box. The midnight crickets filled the empty air between the two villains. “I get it— it’s too dangerous for me. It’s too dangerous for them. I’m evil. I’m going to put them in danger— I just— ugh!” Siren tilted his head back in frustration.

As he bit the inside of his cheek to hold back any bitter words he had the urge to say, Jester stood there and stared at him. It hurt even more seeing the person of interest saying these words to him. Jester quickly transformed back into his regular mask and placed a hand on Siren’s shoulder.

“Look man, I’m sorry..” Jester apologized. “I’m just worried about you, alright? Don’t want anything happening to you, especially what went down this past year.” Siren tilted his head back to look at him, and though his eyes were shielded, he could tell they were full of sincerity and reassurance.

“Yeah..” Siren voiced. “I guess I’m just tired. I don’t know. Let’s hurry home soon.”

“Alright.” Jester agreed.

The two were able to change out of their villain disguises in an abandoned warehouse without anyone noticing them. They then made their separate ways, leaving Wilbur and the cat in careful silence on walk home. Once Wil made it to the front door, he was careful in making up the steps to his room where he would keep the cat. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone’s sleep considering that Phil and Techno were at a meeting and Tom could be quite the heavy sleeper.

Wil shut his bedroom door behind him and placed the cardboard box next to his closet. Though the cat was sound asleep now, he made sure to tuck in the feline with any spare blankets he had lying around before changing into his sleepwear and laying down in bed.

Wil pulled out his phone and texted (y/n).

Wilbur Hey, able to meet me at the cafe sometime tomorrow morning? I have you cat :)

Surprisingly, they responded.

(y/n) OMG really?! Thank you so much! I’ll see you tomorrow x

‘x’? Don’t those usually mean kisses? They probably just meant it in a friendly way. Or maybe they’re showing an interest in Wilbur? Nah, that can’t be possible. But what if? What if they’re interested in Wilbur?

Regardless of what (y/n) intended when they signed off with that little letter, Wilbur only slept a mere two hours.

The next day, Wil was ecstatic despite his lack of sleep. It was as if in a blink of eye he was in bed, but then the next moment he was scarfing down his breakfast and bolting out the door with Anvil’s box in his arms.

After all this time, he finally was able to do some sort of action to get (y/n)’s attention. To finally place himself in their field of view, and maybe, just maybe, they would have some sort of interest toward him. The thought made Wilbur’s heart flutter, making him feel like his body lifted which each step he took.

Wil had finally made it to the cafe, and right on time for that matter too. The building was just up-ahead. Wilbur took a deep breath, his chest pounding from adrenaline, anxiousness, and maybe a bit of excitement sprinkled in there as well. He looked down at the cat, who was previously buried in a sheet. She was now looking up at the man with big beady eyes staring right back at him. The charm to her collar clinked as it waved side to side.

“Okay, Anvil, I’m gonna return you to your owner now, alright? I-I’m sure she’s missing you.” Though he was just simply talking to a cat, this was (y/n)’s cat. And he was returning (y/n)’s cat! He was! Not some other kind stranger, not her family, not even her dirtbag boyfriend. It was Wilbur who would be returning this cat. Without him, Anvil wouldn’t be safe and sound in someone capable to protect a feline from the treacherous night.

With a proud smile, Wil approached the cafe with confidence radiating off his strides.

This was it, he thought.

This was it.

But was it?

He looked in the window to locate (y/n), but instead he found a sight more displeasing. the sight made his heart drop and his knees weak, but it took all his strength and awareness that he was holding a cat to keep himself steady. (y/n) was huddled up next to what seemed to be their incompetent boyfriend. Their head leaned against his shoulder, but the boyfriend did not return the affection. Instead he sat with his hands both placed on his phone, seemingly playing some idle shooting game to occupy his absent mind.

It took (y/n) noticing that Wil was at the window for Wilbur to break out of his mind. Their face beamed at the sight of their cat, and immediately they got up and rushed out of the door to greet him and her feline.

“Anvil, sweetheart!” They exclaimed. The cat immediately perked her head to face her owner before jumping out of the box and into (y/n)’s arms. Wil smiled contently at the sight, however his brain felt all kinds of fuzzy. As if he wasn’t really there.

“Thank you so much! You don’t know how much this means to me. Thank you, Wil, seriously!” Something about (y/n) saying his name made him wince. It felt like a hug before a stab in the chest. Regardless, he pushed through.

“Yeah, of course. I told you I would get her as soon as possible.” Wilbur said.

“You’re an actual lifesaver! I’m sorry if she put you through any trouble. Can I buy you a coffee or?” (y/n) offered. Though the offer was tempting, he didn’t feel comfortable spending another second seeing him and them together. Especially at such a close proximity.

“I-I’m fine,” Wil quickly muttered. “I have to go somewhere in a bit. I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

“Of course! Thank you again, truly.” (y/n) smiled. He simply nodded before turning and walking away.

Though Wil could argue that the man (y/n) calls their boyfriend is a prick, it’s not like he would be any better. Just like Jester said. That man could sit on his ass all day, not care for their cat, not care for them, and yet, he would still be the better option between him and Wilbur.

Wilbur is evil.

Wilbur is a villain.

Wilbur has killed countless living people compared to that prick killing digital npcs for fun.

Though, the argument stapled in Wil’s mind.

Wil found (y/n)’s cat. Not him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a / n ~ poor lil baby siren he just wants love :(( mayb ill do a part 2? i loved this concept ngl. notes of all kind are super duper appreciated :)) thank u for supporting my writing!

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot oneshots #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #clinic!wilbur #clinic!wilbur x reader #siren wilbur soot #siren #siren x reader #wilbur fanfiction #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur mcyt #wilbur hc #sleepy boys inc #poraphiafanfics

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zai-doodles · 5 months

Note

In your fairy tail will Laxus be different, guy was too much of a prick to accept his change of heart or that "deep down, he's a good guy", he threatened to kill the entire city just because he had daddy issues.

i have so many opinions ive been avoiding answering this until i had time to write an essay so here you go.

So, i personally, feel like fairy tail has a really weird habit of having characters do extremely irredeemable shit, say several times that the character is enjoying what their doing, then have their character do a 180 several arcs later because after fighting fairy tail they just saw the light or some shit.

Like i was rewatching the Battle of Fairy Tail arc and lauxus is just... so awful? and the way they try to redeem him with the spell shit not working like sir he was going to kill everyone maybe we dont give him a pass?

all this to say heres how I would rewrite the battle of fairy tail:

Ok so i'd keep Laxus' resentment of Makorav over the banishment of his dad, the only thing keeping laxus in ft is knowing one day hes going to inherit the guild. He works his ass off to become as powerful as he can in order to live up to that legacy but also...

He hates it there.

Specifically, the ones who grew up in the guild (ie erza, mira, natsu, gray, etc) because he always felt like makorav embraced them more than laxus.

So he works hard and keeps his head down, picking fights more out of resentment than anything the other guild members did. I think some of the older guild members who remember Ivan are very wary of Laxus but not afraid just... keeping an eye out.

Laxus reads it as pity.

Once Laxus grows up, hes arrogant, entitled, and selfish. He puts his everything into becoming the best and surrounds himself with yes men (the thunder legion im getting to them) who boost his ego.

Then one day he overhears some fairy tail members spreading a rumor that Makorav is going to retire...

And Erza is going to become the next guild master.

And it fucking breaks something inside him.

I think Laxus resents Erza the most because its just so clear Makorav favors her over everyone. Shes so perfect and humble and honorable and...

Everything Laxus isn't.

So he sets up a plan. He's going to take the guild by force.

ok so it happens basically the same as canon right up until the end. Before the timer runs out Laxus demands Makorav hand the guild over to him before all these people get hurt.

Makorav shows up to confront laxus and instead of doing or saying anything, he just quietly walks up to laxus and stands in front of him.

Laxus starts to panic and yells about how the old man has to give up or everyone is going to die. Outside fairy tail is taking down the dome but its not enough.

Laxus grows more erratic but Makorav says nothing.

The timer runs out and nothing happens.

Laxus sighs in defeat. He's been caught.

He was bluffing.

See the plan laxus and the thunder legion made was simple, they'd prove themselves the strongest by beating the entire guild and once everyone was taken out, makorav would have no choice to hand the guild over since no one was left to stop the thunder dome.

the body link magic still hurt any attackers just to make them seem more real, but they were only really there to pressure Makorav into caving.

Laxus didnt account for his grandpa having faith in him.

However the power grab couldn't be ignored, attacking the guild and even just threatening the city leads to laxus getting banished.

The thunder legion decide to leave fairy tail but laxus forbids them from following him anymore, not feeling worthy of being their leader anymore. So the thunder legion kinda just go off on their own as a trio for the time being.

Idk if this feels lame to others but to me its better than having laxus fully believe hes going to kill everyone and go through with it (even if the spell didnt work) only to redeem him later. It just feels weird to me? idk im not a great writer but this is just my lil rewrite.

as a treat have my bickslow redesign

shhh ik its not v good im still work shopping it but this is like, my third attempt so just take it for now

#fairy tail #zai talks #zaidoodles #bickslow #redesign

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prpfs · 3 months

Note

🕊️ looking for mxm pairings! i have this particular oc i'd like to write~

he's pretty. masculine like a peacock. gender envy, who? i'm being harsh, but his physical appearance is his most redeeming quality. he comes from the slums (prostitute's son) and depending on the au we play him in, he will do anything to get himself out of the mud or is content to control to stay in the slums only if he's the one leading (gave up on escaping and fell into sin's embrace??) in most verses, there are elements of rape/noncon and assault in his backstory. you can fit so much trauma, abuse, and rage in this bad boy.

he's an arrogant, cold, self-entitled prick because he knows he's hot shit. he looks down on everyone, including himself; people are all just tools, and isn't life the game that decides who is the most useful? he's determined, cold, ruthless, and oh-so emotionally stunted. he doesn't know how to love, but he wants to. most of the time, anyway. he's very bitter and thinks he deserves better. god complex + crippling self-hatred.

anywho, that's where YOUR OC advertiser voice comes in!

i'd love to pair my boy against someone who will piss him off or a himbo. i am not looking for sub-bottoms. i want them to be at each other's literal throats. give me the bickering, the dom x dom energy, everything. maybe your oc is the one is knock him (violently) down several pegs, scare the shit out of my guy, make him worse (stay toxic!!) teach him how to love, enforce his dog-eat-dog ideology, break him, trauma-bond with him, or yk, let me manipulate the hell out of your muse (villain and his guard dog) ^^

when it comes to bedroom dynamics, i play my oc as a switch/power bottom. he likes getting dicked down, but he very much wants to stay in power.

i have a few ideas, but i would love love love to hear yours if you had any.

a few things about me-

21+ F writer lazy-lit. i can break the discord word limit multiple times, but only if the situation calls for it/i want to act like an author paid by word

i love worldbuilding and making complex characters + relationships.

will give the enthusiasm i am given. i can only send so many memes before it gets awkward.

my response time can be from minutes (rapid fire) to a week or so. this depends mostly on my interest in the rp and my schedule. i am a uni student, so please have mercy on me.

i'm pretty active ooc and would appreciate a ooc relationship! send me memes, fanart, pinterest boards, songs that remind us of our idiots, and i'll do the same!

kink friendly. i have maybe three limits, so pretty much anything is on the table.

historical + modern settings, omegaverse, size differences, angst, hurt/more hurt, hurt/comfort, dub/noncon, fantasy, political funsies, power imbalances, breeding, monsterfucking, dead dove themes, wuxia etc have me foaming at the mouth.

if you got this far, you're probably interested, so please react and i'll hunt you down! for the love of god, please respond to my dm…

like if you're interested and op will reach out

#oc rp #oc roleplay #original rp #fandomles rp #fandomless roleplay #dead dove

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lady-phasma · 2 years

Text

Steadfast

Aemond x Helaena

Part 2 of 3

Warning: 18+, NSFW

Summary-ish: some smut because of course and a bit of plot because I want this to go somewhere.

Part 1

Aemond moved with precision in all things. His muscles were completely under his control. His long strides would take him to his destination as well as a lesser man’s hurried pace. It also gave him time to choose his words. Carefully. He was as precise with his language as his body.

The Blonde Twat did it again. He might be Aemond’s older brother but age had not given Aegon wisdom. Aemond clenched and unclenched a fist as he bounded up the stairs two at a time. He knew the arrogant prick felt entitled to respect. Aemond could not abide entitlement. He earned Vhagar, his fighting skills, his swordsmanship, the deference people gave him. He had many entitlements as a Targaryen prince, he understood his position, but he also knew Aegon understood none of that. Aegon couldn’t conceive of earning anything.

Aemond didn’t slam the door open as he wanted. But he did not knock. It was intolerable. His brother hurting her, anyone hurting her, filled him with a rage no one could ever see. He had perfected control over his appearance, the only emotions people saw were the ones he wanted them to.

“Out,” Aemond ordered the naked girl from the room. Aegon snorted. “Out!”

She jumped out of the prince’s bed and snatched her dress off the floor, crushing it against her in a panic. She ran out of the chambers through the servant’s entrance.

“What - “ Aegon stopped when he saw his brother’s eye narrow and his jaw clench. For a beat neither spoke. Aegon swallowed.

“What has the cunt said now?” he added the insult only to goad Aemond. He made no response, no change in his expression to give Aegon satisfaction.

Aegon threw the covers off himself and got out of the bed. He put on a robe and stood staring at his brother.

“Well?”

Aemond had many thoughts at once: that Aegon didn’t deserve Helaena, that he was seriously the worst kind of cunt, that he himself could commit fratricide and not care. He took a breath.

“What she said is irrelevant,” he started slowly. “What you have done is why I am here. You shouldn’t touch her after you touch your whores,” he nodded to the servants’s door, “and you should never hit her.“ He took a step closer to Aegon, nearly looming over him.

“Or what, brother?” Aegon acted as if he didn’t care. “You’ll do what exactly? She’s my wife and it’s my duty to teach her how to behave. If she wants to spew her nonsense she can do it alone in her rooms. Or to you and mother.” He rolled his eyes.

Aemond’s nails dug into his palm as he clenched his fist. It was the only outward sign, unnoticed by his brother, that he wanted to hit the prince. Aegon moved to pour himself a cup of wine. Aemond took two strides and put himself between the wine and his brother.

“You perform none of your other duties,” Aemond’s violet eye glowered. “Of the duties you have, make that one the last.”

Aegon scoffed.

“What do you care, she is not your wife,” he feigned bravery and stared back at Aemond. He always knew but they never spoke of it. It was the only threat Aegon could make, veiled or not, that would lean Aemond toward acquiescence. The few times Aegon had threatened to separate them were only because he knew he had overstepped the line Aemond had drawn in the sand. He was a devious little shit.

Aemond didn’t move, he didn’t give his brother any satisfaction. His voice was flat when he spoke.

“Nevertheless, she is your wife and the mother of your children.” Aegon flinched. “The whores you parade through the Keep do not deserve better than her.”

Aemond walked to the door. His brother, forever needing the last word, yelled at his back.

“I will treat her how I see fit. When you have your own wife feel free to do the same, brother.”

* * *

He was not prone to outbursts. He calculated how to exorcise his rage. When he arrived at the training yard he was satisfied to see it mostly deserted. Aemond hated the way people stared at him. Of course there was admiration, they were impressed, but not because of his skills. For years he had felt them thinking that he managed quite well for a half-blind prince. He wondered what exactly was a one-eyed prince supposed to do but use the remaining one better than most people used both? As a result he was keenly aware of every movement around him. His gaze was unsettling and he was grateful for that.

Practicing alone in the yard felt as natural as with an opponent. He could predict where his opponent’s larger, slower bodies would move, how they would move and that became tiresome. His long legs and lean muscles gave him agility that he wouldn’t sacrifice to armor. He rarely put it on. He had been struck. Many times. That was how he learned, learned that it hurt without armor. But it had been quite some time.

When he was alone he could concentrate. He could see the cumbersome knights in his mind. He was graceful where they were laborious and bumbling. He spun and ducked and parried. Sometimes he would close his eye and feel the steel in his hand, the dirt under his feet, and listen. Their armor was loud and they grunted before they swung their weapons. Aemond fought almost silently. He had trained his ears to supplement his contracted field of vision.

He could distinguish between the sounds of his feet in the dust and those of the feet approaching behind him. He turned, hair sliding across his back. He didn’t turn on the offensive. He knew her delicate footfalls.

Helaena’s face was blank. Her eyes usually sparkled when she saw him but they were glazed. He straightened his shirt as walked to her. Her normally flitting hands hung still at her sides. He had left her in her chambers when he went to speak to their brother. She had cried herself into a nap. He knew she hadn’t been crying because Aegon had hurt her. Some time ago she had learned that his opinion of her was always going to be low. She cried because it hurt more than her cheek, because she was powerless. Aemond appreciated that she never ran to him to bemoan the situation. He would happily fight all of her battles but she never asked him to. She was stronger than anyone realized.

Everyone else had left the yard but that didn’t mean that no one saw them. He didn’t reach for her like he felt compelled to do. Seven hells, he loved her so much. And that made him steel his face. Her vacant eyes rose to meet his blazing violet one.

“Sister, come with me?” his voice was soft and quiet. She nodded.

They walked out of the Keep into the warm sunlight in the gardens. They strolled past bowing lords and curtsying ladies, through vine swallowed passages filled with dappled sunlight, and into a small courtyard. The flagstones were enclosed by wild bushes and flowers unlike those in the rest of the gardens. Trees shaded one end of the rectangular enclosure. Helaena sat on the bench under the trees. She looked at the flowers with unseeing eyes. She always lit up in this small garden. And Aemond preferred it for the overgrown foliage and single entrance. Even when there were no other people his eye was constantly scanning his surroundings, restless.

He walked to her and let his hand rest against the side of her arm. His fingers grazed slowly back and forth as he stood next to her. As he stepped away he heard her make a small sound, a mix of a gasp and a sob, that was barely audible. He only took a few paces then returned to her. Standing beside her again, this time he faced the same direction as her and showed her his hand.

Helaena looked down and he glanced at her. He had made sure to approach her with his right side so he could observe her reaction more easily. She cupped her hands just under his and watched, rapt, as the tiny caterpillar walked across the backs of his fingers. He tipped his long fingers into the cup of her hands, resting against her palms, and transferred the creature to her. She let it walk across her palm, then turned her hand and watched it walk across her knuckles. She slid her other hand into his. He rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. Their exchange was shielded from the entrance to the garden by her body.

Helaena turned her face up to him. Some of the light had returned to her violet eyes. After a few moments she stood up and deposited the caterpillar onto a leaf. She began to wander, looking at flowers and leaves, everything. He watched her. She moved on nearly-silent feet, light as air. He clasped his hands on his forearms behind his back. He was solid, immovable. She was delicate and flowed through the world.

When she was happy. He knew the pain hadn’t left her yet but it would soon. He felt her hand on his arm. He looked down at her and his mouth twitched up into a half-smile at the flower behind her ear. It matched their eyes. She walked toward the main garden path and he followed.

* * *

They walked in silence for a while, pausing from time to time for Helaena to investigate something that had caught her eye. Eventually she spoke.

“I don’t know if it’s the Maiden,” she said in her lilting, soft tone. “Sometimes I think it may be the Stranger…. but only if the Stranger weren’t frightening. And I should like to think that the Maiden would want to help, not make matters worse.”

“You believe it would be better if the gods didn’t favor you, sister?” She was on his left side so he didn’t turn to look at her, only stared straight ahead.

“For certain people perhaps.”

“But not for everyone.” It wasn’t a question.

“Maybe so…” she lost herself in thought for a moment. He stopped walking and touched her elbow. She turned to look at him.

“No, not better for everyone.” Aemond began walking before she could respond. She skipped to catch up with his long strides. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.

The walk back to the Keep passed too quickly. The hallways of the Keep seemed much darker after the gardens. Sometimes he wondered if she felt like it was a cage, a prison. She needed green, growing things, sunlight. Maybe he would fly with her soon. When was the last time she had been out with Dreamfyre? He couldn’t remember.

Nothing important needed his attention today so he let her lead him wherever she wanted to walk. He would have set everything aside for her regardless. He listened to her attentively while she told him about a book she had read recently and some new moth she had found dead in a windowsill. He relaxed slightly hearing her cadence lilt and slow and trail off and speed up again.

She grabbed his hand surprising him out of his thoughts and darted down a hallway. He didn’t have to run to keep up with her but she walked faster and her hair flew off her shoulders, the purple flower drifting to the floor behind her. He let her pull him behind her. She dropped his hand and twirled once without missing a step. The hallway was deserted. He walked slower and watched her pass through the sunlight slanting from the few windows high on the wall. The corner they rounded ended in a small doorway leading up to a staircase that was rarely used.

“Aemond!” she whispered quite loudly. He almost shushed her but looked over his shoulder down the hallway and it was empty. When he looked back to Helaena she was on one of the stairs. She had chosen one that made her slightly taller than him. He walked toward her, smiling.

She cupped his face in her hands and tilted his head up to hers. She giggled but when she kissed him it was serious and passionate. Her tongue pushed into his mouth as she ran her hands over his hair down to his shoulders. She pulled back, breathless, and he kissed her neck, the tops of her breasts above her dress. He put his hands on her hips and his thumbs dug into her harder than he meant to. She moaned softly.

Helena pressed her hands onto his shoulders and he did exactly what she wanted. He lifted her off the step. Her smile was infectious. He set her down gently onto the floor in front of the staircase. She let her hands slide down from his shoulders. They trailed down his chest, his stomach, to the ties on his breeches. His eye narrowed but she only continued to smile. He wrapped his arm around her, putting his hand on the small of her back. She slipped her hand into his pants. He closed his eye and tightened his grip on her.

His other hand gathered fistfuls of her skirts up past her thighs. He leaned his head against the top of hers when his hand found what he had been searching for. She was so wet and warm. His fingers moved deftly and she moaned against his chest. She was small and exquisite in his arms, completely swallowed up by him.

Aemond slid his hand to the back of her thigh and along with the one on her back lifted her up. She pulled her hand from his pants to grab onto his neck and she squealed. She laughed quietly as he laid her on the steps. He pushed her skirts back up. When he slid into her he groaned and gripped the step behind her. She grabbed his head in both hands. Her hips ground against him, she felt amazing around him. He pushed her leg over his hip and found purchase on the stairs beneath them.

He moved slowly at first, enjoying the sounds she made. She dipped her head down to find his lips and guided him to look at her. She slid her hands to his neck, his jaw, her thumb caressed his scar. Small huffs of breath escaped her lips every time he thrust forward. Her eyes were half closed but still bright as she looked at him.

“I know, brother,” Helaena breathed heavily as she laid her hand over the space where he had long ago closed his eye for a dragon. “I know. I love you too.”

He kissed her roughly and pressed her into the stairs. He palmed her breasts through her dress and thought about tearing through the fabric. She grazed her teeth over his tongue and bottom lip when he pulled his head back. She nipped at him, laughing and unable to catch her breath. She could read him every bit as well as he could read her. He slid his hand up the back of her thigh and grabbed her ass.

He was sure her moans and cries were echoing down the passage to the entire Keep but he couldn’t care. He would regret it if that were the case but knowing she wanted him here, no matter the cost, that thought made him grip the stair under her until his hand hurt. She dug her fingers into his shoulder and neck. Her head was thrown back and he nuzzled under her jaw and chin trying to kiss her neck but only succeeding in panting against her skin.

“Gods,” Aemond groaned. She squeezed her leg around him, pushing him deeper. She did cry out this time. She tightened around him. He couldn’t withstand it. Her lovely cries every time he drove into her, the feeling of her so wet for him, the flashes of images of her spinning in the sunlight in the hallway. He opened his eye and watched her face as the waves of her climax rolled through her. His hips stuttered, he buried his face in her hair, and a low sound escaped his lips.

He stayed inside her until she was still. He didn’t want to leave her, didn’t want to untangle from her and go back to the mundane world. But as the rush subsided the stairs became painful and the mundane world forced itself between them again. He pushed himself up to his knees while carefully setting her on a step. She looked at him dreamily. He adjusted his pants and straightened his shirt. Then he smoothed her dress down over her legs with long gentle sweeps of his hands. Aemond knelt, one foot a step higher than his other knee, and gathered her hands into his. Their knees touched.

Helaena took liberties that no other soul could. She touched his scar from his forehead to his cheek, over his eye patch, then brushed her fingertips over his lips. He sighed and closed his eye. She raised her other hand to flutter over his eyebrow, his closed eyelid, and down that cheek as well. Before he could open his eye she kissed it.

She wore an expression like that of a child who knows she could get away with anything. He kissed her quickly and brusquely but smiled at her as he stood up. He helped her to stand, she wobbled on the stair and he held out his hand. She took it and hopped down the last two. She walked out of the stairwell ahead of him.

When he turned the corner to follow her he paused. She spun in circles in the last of the sunlight in the corridor. She stopped halfway down and looked at him. Her smile was only for him. She gave him a knowing, unnerving look as well before she turned to leave. He walked quickly after her. Just before they reached the end of the corridor and prying eyes he grabbed her hand mid-spin and kissed her. He kissed her so she would know, know for sure and not just with her gift.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #helaena x aemond #helaena targaryen #aemond targaryen x helaena targaryen #aemond x helaena #aemond fic #aemond targaryen fic #helaemond #helmond

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flipping-the-coin · 26 days

Note

Ratchet you said why you dont like Orion, but what did Megatron do to make you not like him before the war?

𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔣𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔪𝔞𝔩 𝔖𝔱𝔢𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡: ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔱

ℭ𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔩 ℑ𝔞𝔠𝔬𝔫 -

ℭ𝔶𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔦𝔞𝔫 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔩 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔰 -

𝔊𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔇𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 -

I didn't have a problem with him prior to the war. Not really.

I disliked him a great deal. I heard enough rumors, saw enough interviews, and otherwise gathered more than enough information to come to the conclusion that he's an entitled arrogant prick. Always going on about his battles and his fragging achievements, he annoyed me. I didn't have a problem with his preaching, but he was always running some sort of advertisement as well.

Yes, I am well aware that's how gladiators get their sponsors. No, I still don't like it. I didn't like his personality and I thoroughly disliked his entire disposition. I didn't even meet the mech in person until after I had to repair Orion's broken hinges. I tried to give Megatron the benefit of the doubt. I swear on the thirteen I did try. But regardless of my efforts-

He was just as much of a glitch in person.

I fragging hate Megatron and that fact has remained static since the beginning. It is almost poetic. If I believed in sparkmates, I would say that Megatron is my ordained foe. We share just enough in common that we have valid reasons to hate each other. Even without his crimes against Cybertron tacked onto his name, I still don't like him.

He's a glitch. That's it. Plain and simple.

𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔪𝔞𝔩 𝔖𝔱𝔢𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡 - ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔱

#maccadam #transformers prime au #transformers #two sides to a coin au #transformers prime #megatron #ratchet #ratchet responds #tfp ratchet #pre war cybertron

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zweetpea · 5 days

Text

TBRAHE chapter 7 The Husband

CW: Past child abu$e, swearing, gojo being a spoiled brat, gojo being a self centered prick

‘Why did he have to accompany her? I’m the strongest. Why didn’t she ask ME?’

“Your Majesty!” Someone knocked on the door.

“Name and Business.”

“Um… It’s- It’s Addison! The queen’s maid!”

“Oh, uh, come in I guess?” ‘Why is she here?’

“Sorry to disturb you your majesty but (Y/- uh, ahem! The queen… hasn’t put anything down yet for any of the meals.”

“Oh… um The queen will be out until tea time. For tea we’ll have Matcha and Kaiseki with our tea. Donburi for dinner, with a side of Amanatto for dessert. I’d also like to try the queen’s favorite meal for lunch.”

“As you wish Your Majesty.” Addison turned to leave.

“Why does she love you so much?”

“P-Pardon?” She asked.

“Why does the Queen love you so much? Every time the conversation shifts over to you her smile becomes so genuine! I hate it! No offense but I kinda hate you.” Gojo said brazenly.

“Your Majesty… may I be blunt with you for a moment?”

“Sure…” He said absentmindedly, leaning back without a care in the world. Like this conversation was already boring him.

“I think the reason the queen doesn’t want anything to do with you is because you’re a spoiled brat, who humiliated her.”

“Humiliated her?”

“At your anniversary, sir.”

“But- but everyone knows that we didn’t marry for love! Why would anyone care who I brought to myparty?”

“That’s just it sir. It wasn’t just your party. It was the queens party too.”

“So she gets to practically grope you all day everyday, parade you around like a goddess, but if I wanted to have someone special to me by my side on a miserable day I’m shit out of luck? How is that fair?”

“Your Majesty, I don’t know what kind of relationship you think my lady and I have but I can assure you it’s not like that.”

…

“Your Majesty please, I’ve know the queen since I was a toddler, if anyone understands her pain it’s me. If I may be so bold as to ask why it is that you feel entitled to her love and affection?”

“I’m the king! And her husband! She’s never tried to get close to me before but now she’s in every aspect of my life! Pestering my best friend, her little boy toy in and out of Shoko’s office, and now this interrogation.”

“But sir! It’s not! I really don’t want to fight but I feel that it would be in both of your best interests if you took a step back and tried to understand how SHE felt about it.” She ran out terrified of what he could do to her for talking back to him.

Gojo Satoru is a spoiled brat. He gets whatever he wants whenever he wants. And if he can’t obtain something, then it’s unobtainable. That’s what he thought until you walked into his life.

“I’m Satoru.” He smirked at you. Before he knew it he was back in the memory of your first encounter.

“(Y/n) you stated not looking up from your book.”

“Come on sweetheart. Look at your king when he’s speaking to you.” He cupped your chin and turned you to look at him.

“You’re still just the prince. And don’t touch me!” You swatted his hand away.

“What’s your problem?!”

“I’m going to be married to an arrogant brat who thinks he owns everyone and everything. Well you can’t own me!” You glared at him.

‘Her eyes are like dangerous pools of fire.’ “Fine.” He stood up and left to go find his mom.

“Mom! Please! I don’t want to marry her! She’s mean!” He begged and whined.

“Hiroshi please be reasonable." Satoru's mother sat on an ottoman.

"Chiaki you spoil him far too much." His father paced the room never totally looking at Satoru, though Satoru wasn't totally sure his father ever looked in his eyes.

"My baby boy doesn't deserve to be treated like trash! My baby boy-"

"He's not a baby anymore! You coddle him far too much, I swear. Satoru, you will marry her, you two will bear a son to continue the Gojo name and you will grin and bare it. I will not have my son defy me."

"I don't want to! Mommy please."

"I'll figure something out."

"Like hell you will. You will marry that girl. I don't care if she's a girl kissing butch. We are Gojos and we will not loose our birth right."

"I'm not gonna marry that- that minx! I won't! I won't! I-" A smack sounded through the room.

"Hiroshi!" Chiaki called out as she rushed to her song who'd fallen back onto the floor. Tears stung Satoru's eyes.

"Guard escort my wife out, I want to talk to my son alone." He ordered. ah yes, when Satoru was being difficult Chiaki's son. When it came to the prince's image, or his usefulness he was Hiroshi's son. Hiroshi finally looked into Satoru's eyes and Satoru's blood turned to ice. "If you ever disobey me again, if you ever question me again, I will cut out your tongue and sow your mouth shut. Do you understand?"

"Dad?"

"Do you understand boy?"

"Y-Yes... sir."

'This is all her fault! She's ruining my life!' Satoru thought.

"Come on lady." He took your hand forcefully in his right before you entered your engagement party.

"You are infuriating, the moment I get home I'm scrubbing my skin until it turns red to wash all of you off of me."

'This little- no... just focus on getting through the night. Look at her, so smug. Too bad you don't have a book to hid behind now. You and your sharp, deep eyes. And her lips that look soft and- They're so cracked even under that lipstick! And her hair it... soft and smooth- NO! She's ruining your life, you will not be seduced by this vixen Satoru! You're a Gojo, act like it.'

"Are you two ready?" His mother asked.

"Yes mother."

"..."

"What?"

"I'm... glad that I'll have a nice mother in law."

"She's the best mother in the world."

"..."

"I'm glad to have a father in law who respects his daughter. I'm sure he'll be very supportive of his grandchildren."

You felt your cheeks warm. "Pervert." 'She even looks cute flustered. No! No.'

The doors open to the grand ballroom as the announcer stands at the top of the stairs. “Introducing, the Prince of our great Kingdom, Satoru Gojo.”

The two start their waltz. 'She looks just like her father. Bored and snotty.'

It was four months after the wedding, and you two had only known each other for half a year. The got back toy you both one rainy afternoon, winter was particularly late that year, and the atmosphere outside matched well with the mood inside.

"Unfortunately the King and Queen were attacked by curses on their way to a peace conference. They've both passed away." The messenger had said.

Satoru froze. You came over to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched at the contact.

He didn't know it at the time but that interaction staved you off from trying to induce physical contact, and the dead look in his eyes for months on end when you both were together didn't help either. You wanted to give him space. Neither of you were ready to rule a country, but you'd do what you had to to support your husband and your people. Maybe Satoru took that for granted.

"But daddy I wanna ride the pony! I don't wanna study!" Another memory, this one about the time Satoru was only six.

"Boy get inside before I drag you in here by your hair!"

"No! I- Ow! Okay stop! I'm sorry! Daddy I'm sorry! Stop I'm sorry!" Hiroshi had made good on his promise. he had torn a few stands of hair out of the poor boys head.

"Stop being a brat. You will refer to your king as sir do you understand?"

"Daddy- AH!" He had struck Satoru. "Sorry! I'm sorry sir! I'm so sorry."

Another memory. "Wow all this for me!"

"You are turning 8, it's a big milestone!" Chiaki said.

"You say that every year dear." Hiroshi said as he sat reading the newspaper. The royal family sat in the recreational room as Satoru open the gifts his mother got him.

"Hey... I wanted the blue rabbit not the red one."

"What?" Chiaki asked confused.

"You got me the wrong rabbit color! This one's ugly!"

"Shut it boy! I'm reading!"

"You're ruining my birthday!" Hiroshi stood up and Satoru crouched.

"It's okay Satoru. I'll have Matilda fetch you the proper rabbit you wanted. We'll have it to you by your party this afternoon. MATILDA!! Fetch my son the blue rabbit and throw out this garbage! Oh and order an investigation be made, whoever bought my son this trash will be fired." Chiaki threw the unwanted toy to the maid.

"Really?" Satoru looked at his mother with big hopeful blue eyes.

"Of course. Anything my precious baby boy wants, he'll get." She scooped him up and cuddled him.

"Yay! Thank you Mommy! you're my favorite parent!"

"Tch. Darn brat."

“Mom. I miss you.”

Before Satoru new it he was back in the present.

“How she felt about the anniversary huh? I guess she probably felt like how I feel about that knight following her around and drooling all over her.”

“Alright Satoru. You need to get out of bed! You’re people need you! They need to see that you’re okay, physically at least. Besides laying around in a dirty room all day isn’t good for you mentally or physically.” And just like that he was pulled right back into his mind. Every conversation he had with you you were the one who took the lead, leaving him flustered and scrambling to catch up.

~~~~

“Ruru! I’m so glad that you’re here! Cmon let’s go shopping!”

“I’m tired, Marissa.”

“But Ruru! You’ve been away for a month! We need to spend time together!”

Marissa was also headstrong, but now he knows she doesn’t actually care about him.

~~~~

You cared about those closest to you. He thought Marissa cared about him.

You stood strong against him. She fell right into his arms.

You hated him. Did she hate him too? Probably, he figured.

He… wanted you. The more he compares your interactions, the more he sees he wanted you. But he wanted a you that wanted him.

“I’m an idiot.” He slapped his forehead. He ran his hand down his face. He stood up and walked out of his office needing a breath of fresh air.

He wandered down to the thrown room and froze in front of a painting hung up. It was of you and him on your wedding day.

“I will fix this. I promise.” He said as he swiped his hand over your face.

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