#Coin and Crown au
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Can I ask about the character on your icon? what’s their story or and how you created them?
That's actually the one from the Coin and Crown AU! I have yet to write a proper chapter 1 for it. The art in my icon was made by @sianara7, who I met in a discord server.
they were going to be my cotl sona originally, but I used Foreign King more and they took their place...until I started writing about them again. I renamed the Merchant to Leonidas, or Leon for short. I just needed an oc and traveling merchant was the first idea that came naturally. nothing too special.
A short summary of their story is that they grew up in the lands of the Old Faith roughly 200 years before CotL proper starts. After denying the Bishops both worship and respect (as well as being nigh impossible to catch), the Bishops lured him in with a public offer of leniency. A trap of course, but they couldn't kill him. the offer was public, so they had to honor it. Instead, they left him with a curse: immortality. He would be forced to watch as all he cared for withered away around him. He can still be killed, but hasn't aged a day. He eventually made friends with the lamb, witnessed them defeating Narinder, and settled down with them, becoming Lamb's husband.
I have three chapters posted already. not my finest work, but still good. My masterpost has the links.
#I should really get around to the character refs at some point.#cotl#cult of the lamb#cotl au#coin and crown au
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Hannie thoughts 🩷
He pursued you so sweetly and now you're expecting a sweet slow courtship. But now that he realizes just how into him you are, he takes full advantage. Rough in the bedroom confident Jisung. 😍 Y/n overwhelmed but secretly loves it.
“courtship” gave me royal vibes. soooOoOOOo
also idk why this is so long!!! im sorry!!! this concept got the best of me!!!
tell me you love royal aus without telling me 🫠
SMUT — MINORS DNI
The kingdom is lucky to have Jisung on their throne. Crowned as a mere teenager, nobody expected the Young King to thrive. What could he possibly know about ruling a kingdom? In three years time, they’ll lose all credibility, and he his head. Just watch; a boy cannot be King.
Within a year, all ill words spoken about the King were silenced. Charismatic, yet shy, he found his footing in royal life with ease. Leading council meetings, carefully listening and fairly judging every case brought to the court. Age is deceiving; the people haven’t had a leader of this quality in many, many years.
It wouldn’t be fair to say Jisung is just a good King. Even though ten years have passed since his coronation, he can still be found dressed in plain clothes without jewels or his crown, riding into town on his precious golden mare. She is cared for by his Hand, and best friend, as he walks the market.
Not a single stall is passed by him, even if the products are the same as the day before. Carefully, he will look over each and every item while making small talk.
“Alright this morning, Sir?”
“Is this a new recipe? The bread is sweeter than usual — it’s wonderful!”
“Oh my, your craft has improved greatly! I am impressed, keep at it!”
And then the King hands them exactly three gold coins even if he has no intention of buying anything. They’ll offer him something; a small item, or a piece of food, but he always denies it. A gift for them. Encouragement. Proof that he sees their skills and what they bring to the kingdom and is appreciative of it. It also reminds them that he truly cares about them as people. Without them, this city wouldn’t flourish the way it does.
Occasionally, he’ll buy something from the baker. He’s particularly fond of the blueberry poppy bread she makes. She’s a good woman; her husband fought hard and loyally for his father, and for that Jisung is eternally grateful for. Some weekends, he’ll visit her in her cottage. Have tea with her, listen to stories of her late beloved and all the great things he did in life.
She always gets five coins. But shush, don’t tell anybody.
At the end of the market is the only stall he’ll buy from everyday. Brown paper, pink twine, white daisies. The same thing, everyday. The florist always gives him a warm smile.
“How is she?”
And it brings a smile to The King’s face. The genuine care in their tones — because he genuinely cares.
“Well.” He digs in his coin purse, always pulling out too many coins. Just speaking about his love tinges his cheeks a dark pink. “As always.”
An exchange — coins, flowers. “When will you wed?”
“Shortly after my celebration day.” He denies the return of extra coins, as usual. “The autumn weather is her favorite.”
“Wish her well for me.”
“Of course.”
Jisung is a man of routine. Personal goodbyes to each and every merchant before he’s back on his horse. The sky is still pink when he’s back at the castle. The Hand takes his horse so the King can walk through the cool halls. Take the winding stairs up to the top level, where the royal family sleeps.
It used to just be him in this hall. Echoey, empty, reminding him of what price has to be paid for him to take the throne.
Not now, though. The room at the opposite end of the hall is now filled, well loved and used.
Taking a right from the staircase brings him to the door. Kindly dismissing the guard, the King knocks three times. A code; announcing himself without having to.
“Come in!”
The curtains are pushed open, fresh sunlight spilling in from the many windows. Yesterday’s daisies are in a crystal vase, sat on the table in the sitting area. Beautifully bloomed, the floral scent filling the golden room.
You’re by the biggest window, sat on the ledge. The glass is pushed open just slightly, letting the spring breeze cool your body. The dress you’re wearing is one of Jisung’s favorites; off the shoulder, a lavender color with little flowers stitched into the neckline with white thread.
The most beautiful soon-to-be Queen the land has ever seen.
“Good morning, petal.” The nickname rolls off his tongue. “Rest well?”
Closing the book, you nod. “And you, my dear?”
“All right.” Only a few steps away, he takes the bouquet out from behind his back and presents it to you. “For you. As always.”
Oh, the bright smile you give him. It’s like he’s falling in love with you all over again. Gracefully, you rise from your seat and take the fresh flowers, bringing to your nose to sniff.
“They’re lovely, Jisung. Thank you.”
Everyday, a peck to his cheek. Quick — you’re far too shy to linger. The King has a routine. So he turns his head just slightly, left side of his face presented to you. Ready to receive your gratitude.
The routine breaks. Swiftly, you walk past your fiancé, taking the flowers to the vase. Leaving him stunned.
Strange.
“I was wondering if today we might ride to the sea?” You don’t look to him as you speak — actually, it looks like you’re trying to hide behind the white flowers. “I’ve been a tad homesick.”
The steps he takes are cautious. “Of course.” Hesitance is laced in his tone. This isn’t your ordinary behavior. “What’s on your mind, darling?”
It’s like you’ve seen a ghost, blood running from your face and eyes widen. But in a snap, the expression is gone. “Oh, nothing. I want to write about the sea, you know how my brother loves it.”
Carefully, Jisung takes a seat on your velvet sofa. “Ah, yes. How is Seungmin?”
“His letters say he is well. The ocean is treating him nicely, though I wish he wouldn’t have chosen that path.”
Son and daughter of a prestigious family. One to be Queen, the other a runaway pirate.
“There’s always room for him in our kingdom. He would do well with us.”
You swallow dryly. What is happening? “The gracious and merciful Young King, what would this world be without you?”
Jisung can’t take this anymore. What has gotten into his beloved? Where is your head at? Grabbing your wrist, he pulls you away from the vase. Making you stand in front of him.
“Speak your worries.”
“I have none, Your Grace—“
“Though merciful, you know I hate to be made a fool.” His eyes narrow, but expression stays soft. “Love, let me help.”
You can’t meet his gaze, staring at the slit in your dress as you speak. “I’m afraid my thoughts are…doubtful.”
“Of?”
Finally, your eyes meet.
“Oh.”
What good is a crown? What good is a throne? What good is this kingdom if you are not by his side? Emotions tear at him, making his lip tremble despite his best efforts.
“Not of that kind.” You quickly reassure, catching the hurt on his face. “You are my love, Jisung. I would never want a life without you.”
“Good, good.” He won’t deny his worry. That isn’t fair to you. “Then what is it?”
Jisung thinks you’re precious. You still get so shy around him, even after years together. Especially when you want to express your feelings or ask for something.
Reassuringly, he rubs his thumb over the top of your hand, still caught in his. “You don’t have to—“
“I don’t want to wait any longer.”
The way you said it, so firm and confident. As if you’ve been pondering this, an opinion you’ve held for a while and are now sure of. The King is taken aback briefly, trying to figure out what your words mean.
“For the wedding?” It’s all he can come up with, but even he doesn’t sound too sure in it. “I’m sure we could plan it for the upcoming solstice, my love, if that’s what you desire.”
You shake your head quickly, and he can tell you’re starting to second guess saying it. “No, no. I want to wed in autumn. I don’t want to wait for you.”
What ever could you mean? Wait for him? Why, he’s right here. Touching you, speaking to you. Are you feeling ill? Those words make no—
Oh.
Oh, how he made himself the fool.
Suddenly, he’s in dire need of wine. Mouth dry, tongue heavy. Though he’s had many, many dreams of you in such a way, never would he push it on you. You felt as if your body was sacred, and he respected that. The King wants nothing but for you to feel comfortable and safe around him. If you were waiting for him, he would be waiting for you as well.
Sometimes the dresses you wear do drive him mad. Form fitting and hugging your curves, or with a lower neckline that he can see down at the right angle. Those have made it hard, and only starved him more. Like dangling bread in front of the hungry.
“Are you certain?” Jisung finally speaks, tone dropping several octaves.
You nod, softly wrapping your other hand around the one he has grasped. It’s so delicate, how you drop to your knees in front of him. Starry eyes blinking at him.
“More than, my King.” You bring the hands to your lips, soft kisses across his knuckles. “My patience is dry. I no longer want to wait for your love.”
“Rise.”
“What?”
“Your King gave you a command.” His demeanor changes like a switch, the feral need he’s drowned for so long rising to the surface. “Rise. No Queen of mine will ever kneel, even for me.”
Your eyes never leave his, standing up fully in front of him. He follows, using your hand as a guide up and into your body. A hand on the left side of your neck, fingers creeping into your perfectly combed hair. It’s used to bring your lips to his, properly kissing you.
Many kisses have been shared between you, but none like this. It’s intense, every pent up and buried feeling finding new life with the movement of your lips. It’s more addictive than the blueberry poppy bread from the baker, tongues desperate for the taste to linger. For the feelings to stay.
Loving you is a greater honor than the crown, the King is sure of it.
He curses your corset, making you giggle when he spins you gracefully to get a better look at it. The tugs on it are rough, eager to get the fabric off your body. Heavens, Jisung knows he loves this dress but does it have to be so dreadful to remove?
It’s too much. Your desires tangle with his own, sparking brighter than the jewels on the crown. Than the gold of coins. The energy it deepens the King’s decent — the hole you’re tumbling into doesn’t have a bottom.
Your nails rip his shirt, accidentally tangling the strings of his pants in your rush. There’s no grace in the first moments. Ready to see each other’s bodies, to touch, to taste. To be one.
The King tries his best to be gentle with you. To give you the sweetest kisses, careful touches. He’s heard stories, knows that it can be too much. The last thing he wants is for you to not find pleasure in this.
But, it can only last for so long. The breaking comes with he accidentally takes your breath away — truly, he didn’t mean to place his hand there. Apologies are ready to fumble out when he sees it.
The look you give him. Shocked, a little frightened. But excited.
Jisung never considered his ego very large, but he’s open to self reflection.
“Oh, petal, is this what you like?” He squeezes your throat, tips of his fingers digging into your soft skin. Though you nod, there’s no real need for an answer. He can feel it in the clench around his cock, the legs hooked around his waist pulling him closer. With a dry laugh, he picks up the pace of his hips. Fucking you hard enough the bed is becoming unstable. “I have to admit my surprise. The shy, gentle Queen likes to be fucked like a common whore.”
As soon as the words leave, he feels a tinge of regret. What harsh words to say to someone he loves—
Do his eyes deceive him? You’re whimpering, nodding your head. Unable to speak from the lack of air, but in full agreement.
Heavens. The King is done for.
“I’m sure they’d be glad to have you at the brothel.” Control is lost, the wooden frame starting to crack under the King’s intense movements. “Let the people have a taste of the King’s favorite cunt.”
“N-no.” You seem to speak. “Only y-you—“
“Aw, don’t be selfish, petal.” He pinches your cheek, finding joy in the tears painting your face. “You know I am a generous ruler.”
Jisung enjoys riling you up like this. Enjoys the tears, the cries, the way you’re twitching and squirming underneath him. Not to escape. No, from the force of something world shattering.
“Are you going to cum?” He teases you. “From those awful threats?”
You cannot help yourself, nodding quickly. Little, soft begs falling from your lips.
Maybe Jisung is power hungry. Maybe the crown has gone to his head. Maybe that’s why he laughs, stopping to leave you right on the edge. You’re so distraught, wide eyed and frantically begging for him to finish.
“Oh, but petal. I never said I would be generous to you.”
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MASTERLIST | Aegon II Targaryen.
THE CONQUEROR'S CROWN (angst/smut)
After many years of secrecy, Aegon and Visaella's relationship was discovered just a few days before the Dance of the Dragons began, unleashing chaos and uncontrollable feelings that would do more harm than good.
INVISIBLE STRING - New Girl!AU (fluff)
A disastrous break-up led you to them; three guys living in a huge apartment and needing a new roommate who helped with the way too expensive rent.
THE SUMMER ISLANDS. (fluff)
In a failed attempt to escape, Aegon accidentally arrives on an unknown island where a lovely and lonely girl lives.
THE OTHER WOMAN. (angst)
Aegon was forced to marry Princess Elisa Martell to gain control of Dorne. While the princess is deeply in love with him, he is too busy having a not-so-secretive affair with the only daughter of the Master of Coin; Tyland Lannister.
WHAT SHOULD'VE BEEN. — EPILOGUE. (angst)
Aegon has always been in love with his loyal childhood companion, so when King Viserys proposed a betrothal between them, he was absolutely blissful with the idea, although his happiness wouldn't last long.
INFATUATION. (angst)
Aegon always had a few things that made him genuinely happy, and this pretty servant girl was one of them. However, the Gods seem to be eager to make his life miserable, for one day he sees all his future plans ruined by the intervention of others.
LASCIVIOUS CONTEMPT. (smut)
The rivalry that grew between Alicent and Rhaenyra has also grown between their eldest children. When Rhaenyra and her family return to King's Landing, they both know that the enmity is still there, but the new feeling that came along with it is quite unknown.
UNREQUITED. (angst)
Aegon was unable to keep his love for you a secret, but he did not expect you to shatter his heart into pieces after realizing you do not feel the same way.
Aegon interrupting his wedding for you.(fluff)
Aegon finds out you betrayed him. (angst)
Aegon noticing you've changed. (angst)
Giving Aegon an ultimatum. (angst)
Being Aegon's safe space. (fluff)
#aegon ii targaryen masterlist#masterlist#aegon ii targaryen#aegon smut#aegon ii targaryen smut#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen x y/n#aegon ii targaryen x you#house of the dragon#hotd#aegon ii targaryen fluff#aegon ii targaryen angst
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HAND THREE - TWO PAIR
summary: in a season where you're determined to fly under the radar, newly-returned crown prince!touya todoroki has other ideas. in this hand, a date is had.
wc: 2.5k
cw/tags: royalty!au/regency!au, fem!reader, some swearing, banter and dialogue driven, fake dating, pining and tension, todoroki enji jumpscare LOL
note: the two wolves living inside me is one wanting to rush the hell out of slow burn and the other telling me to make it painfully slow. however, i broke a little and made the pining a little obvious in this chapter oops. one day i will achieve the emotional release of s2 bridgerton bee sting scene. hope you enjoy !!!!
likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3
“Show.”
“You first.”
“I’m royalty.”
“And I have the higher stack. Now, show,” you repeat and he scoffs, the corner of his mouth tugging upward and creasing the deep purple scars on his cheek. He turns his two cards face-up and, sure enough, you’d snatched another victory from the self-proclaimed Prince of Calculation. “I win again,” you smile and he begrudgingly pushes the pot to your side of the table, an amalgamation of garden pebbles, stray buttons, and a few gold coins you managed to produce. You were using whatever you had to gamble and the prince didn’t seem to mind. Touya, you remind yourself. You were supposed to call him by his first name throughout this whole charade, but it seemed as foreign on your tongue as a protruding third set of teeth.
“You’re a much more dangerous woman than you give yourself credit for,” he muses with a clever glint in his eyes. Over the course of the last month or so, you’d accumulated an immunity to his unwavering stares and scalding eyes; lately, it actually seemed you found a certain affinity for his intense nature, even when you were its only target. His sweetly poisonous words were the latest test to your composure. “If we dressed you as a man for the night, we could relieve an entire club of their purses before the clock strikes ten.” His pretty fingers dealt another two cards and you peeked at them from the bottom of your vision. Queen of hearts and two of clubs. Not the best hand.
“Hmm. How much of the pot would you use to bail me out for invading said club?” You lay out the first three cards, the flop, and flip the first over before betting a conservative amount. Four of diamonds.
“Who ever said anything about bail? I’d just sneak you out. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time,” he answers, calling your bet, and you can’t tell if he’s kidding. It was another piece you were still trying to solve of the puzzle that was the prince of the Todoroki family, how he joked so casually about breaking laws and dodging authority. The nonchalance of his recklessness made your stomach turn, sometimes, but you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or intrigue. You flip the second card of the flop. Two of hearts. A pair, if all else failed. You just had to hope he didn’t have anything either.
“For a royal, you seem to know a concerning amount about rule breaking. Do you have any intent to corrupt me?”
“By the end of our courtship, possibly.” Jack of diamonds. Not what you were hoping for as the third card, by any means. A flash of excitement lights up behind your opponent’s eyes, too purposeful to be genuine. You mentally added his poker tells to the never-ending list of things to figure out about him, right under the number of crimes he’s committed against the government. Tossing in a few medium-value flower petals, you’re unsurprised when he matches your bet again.
“Our courtship which, I’ll remind you, is causing quite the stir in the ton,” you point out while revealing the turn. Seven of hearts. You try not to let your disappointment in your current hand show on your face. The prince, you notice, looks like he’s trying a little too hard to contain his excitement. “You know, I suspect they might be rooting for us.”
“That’d be a new experience for me. Never received too much support in my endeavors before.” He places a high bet and you have no choice but to match it. If you were right about him lying, you would learn something new about his poker strategy; but, if you were wrong, you wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the day. You flip the river and your heart stutters. Two of diamonds. You’re careful with your next bet, knowing that three of a kind wasn’t the best or worst hand you could create. The prince, however, pushes his entire hoard into the pot with a challenge in his eyes. He was trying to force you to fold.
You match the bet and reveal your hand.
Two pair versus three of a kind. The prince was bluffing, and you won again.
“At least this time, you’re not alone.” The admission is obvious but still catches both of you off-guard when you say it. You’re about to apologize for being too sentimental when that unreadable look passes over his face again, sudden as a lightning strike and gone just as quickly.
“I guess you’re right,” he murmurs, relinquishing the remaining pot of knick-knacks to you. “Though I will say, having my ass handed to me in a card game was not a part of my plan.”
“A woman with intellect is never part of a man’s plan, yet she prevails all the same,” you conclude and he hums in agreement, collecting the remaining cards and slotting them back into their box. A concerning thought occurs to you and you glance around the secluded palace courtyard with new-found suspicion. His eyes follow your own, watching you keenly in a way that was both comforting and unsettling.
“What is it?”
“Will the servants not whisper about a woman playing a man’s game?”
“They will whisper that you won, and that is what matters,” he states like a well-known fact. “Why? Is something bothering you about them?”
“No, I’m just mulling over this whole arrangement again.” You wave him off dismissively and take another sip of lemonade from your teacup. A drink which, when you’d finally agreed to meet the prince at the palace for a day, he ordered presumably because you both shared a distaste for tea. “How odd it is and how people gossip so.”
“A lady beating the prince at poker is hardly a scandal compared to what transpired last week,” he recalls with terribly-hidden amusement, breaking off a piece of scone and smearing a glob of berry preserves onto it. “Wouldn’t you agree?” Your cheeks heat when you think of the memory and you snap your fan open to cool yourself and hide your burning face. It certainly wasn’t your proudest moment, to say the least.
“Would you like me to retrieve a stick to keep your competition at bay?” You had jokingly asked, following his distracted gaze. It was your third ball of the season and your third public appearance with the prince; both you and your co-conspirator were forced to acknowledge the increasing number of interested suitors trying to pry you away. Dances, you found, were one of the few moments where other men weren’t climbing over each other for your attention. The only problem was being forced to share breathing space with him for an extended period of time. “Your Highness, why are you glaring like that?”
“I said to stop calling me that, and I’m not glaring,” he mumbled, very obviously glaring and avoiding your eyes. His hand stiffens around your waist, making your already-awkward distance from him more uncomfortable. It didn’t take long to notice that he was a fine dancer when he was with any other partner but you, and you figured it was because being in such close proximity was not part of your agreement. You raise a skeptical eyebrow, finally making him look at you when the silence indicates your displeasure. “Pay me no mind. I am only–”
“Moping like a kicked dog, that’s what you’re doing,” you interject and, in a blink, you’re back in another standoff with his intense stare.
“I don’t recall when you gained the right to comment on my behaviors so crassly.” Your eyebrows pinch, taken aback by his sudden hostility. His eyes were always burning, like embers in a fireplace, and it felt like the longer you looked at them, the less likely you’d be able to pull away. After a few moments of staring him down, you back off with a frustrated huff. You think you feel some of the tension leave him, too.
“If we are to keep up this ruse in a believable manner, I suggest you confide in me from time to time, especially if it causes you to act in unfavorable ways,” you state simply, your irritation obvious.
“You know nothing of my unfavorable ways.” The venom in his voice makes your heart sink, against your own judgment. His expression doesn’t soften, but his voice does. “Trust me. It’s not your burden to bear,” he says in a low tone and goosebumps spread across your arms, despite the fabric of your gloves and the sleeves of your dress. He meets your eyes and you could have sworn his gaze flickers to the neckline of your gown, but the action, like so many of his movements, is too quick to comment on. “So, let’s keep to our sides of the street, shall we?”
“You’re insufferable,” you hiss, letting your politely smiling face slip as the strings conclude the dance. “Enjoy the rest of the evening. I feel a bit faint.” The muscles in his jaw clenches and you turn on your heel to beeline for an exit when a strong hand grabs you by the wrist and pulls you backward. Before you can register where you’re moving, your hand is placed firmly on his forearm and you’re a split-second from slapping him when–
“Touya.” Shit. With a blank mind, you remember to curtsy from pure muscle memory, dipping deeply toward the ground while the prince bends at the waist.
“Good evening, Father.” Touya’s voice becomes empty, devoid of all sarcasm, teasing, and charm. A glance at his face tells the same tale, blank and emotionless. The only indication of his true thoughts came the slight shake in his arm and how he unconsciously tugged you closer and closer to his side. You let yourself be pulled in and your free hand moved on its own, coming to rest on top of his and running your thumb over his knuckles. He exhales shakily. “Father, this is–”
“I know who you are,” he says before you could be properly introduced, making your nostrils flare. The man besides you bristles and you wonder how such a hard-faced, stoic man could make such a reckless and carefree son. You’d never seen King Todoroki except in victory parades and newsprints of his alliance with King All Might, but you could recognize the family’s flaming eyes from miles away. You decided that, no matter how irritating the prince was, his father was lower on your ranking of the Todoroki royals. “Should you marry, are you aware of the responsibility of being the wife of a king?”
“I believe she is called a queen, Your Majesty,” you hear yourself say before you can stop yourself. From beside you, the prince makes a noise somewhere between a choke and a snort, and you direct your attention to the floorboards in hopes of surviving the king’s scathing reply. Despite the chatter of the party around you, it feels like your words were echoing off the gilded ceilings. The reprimand, however, never comes. The king turns back to his son with a look of suppressed wrath before turning and stalking away, a crowd of nobles crowing for his attention.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” he whispers in disbelief as he hurriedly guides you out of the hall and into one of the manor’s gardens, still within sight of nosy mothers but out of their earshot. Your hand hasn’t left his arm, nor has he tried to pry it off. If anything, you click into his side like a missing puzzle piece, and you’re confusingly reluctant to let go. “That was the worst possible way you could have answered that question,” the prince continues and your stomach turns.
“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” you reply with poorly masked shame, lowering your head and letting him walk ahead. Your hand detaches from his arm and you’re struck by the sudden lack of warmth. He turns sharply to look at you, looks back at his empty arm, and then back at you before closing the few feet between you. His eyes were burning into you again but he said nothing, watching you watch the blades of grass surrounding your shoes. Your voice is as quiet as the swaying summer wind. “If I have jeopardized our plan, I understand if you–”
“Stop,” he commands, and it takes a moment to register his gloved fingers under your chin, gently but firmly tilting your head to look at him. Your eyes trace the jagged lines of where his skin meets his scars and the world around you quiets. “I am…the opposite of angry with your actions.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not an easy task, talking back to my father. Yet, you performed it as easily as breathing,” he explains with a soft awe in his expression that made your breath catch in your chest.
“I guess I’ve had good practice, countering your arguments for the better half of the summer,” you agree hesitantly. What the hell was this feeling? For whatever reason, the world around you temporarily faded to static noise and blurred paintings, with the only decipherable images being the man in front of you. “So, you’re not unhappy with my behavior around your father?”
“I have never been prouder to be seen with you,” he reassures you and you finally crack a smile, his hand leaving your face and his feet stepping back to a respectful distance. “On another note, can you recall what we were arguing about before we were interrupted?”
“I can’t, unfortunately. I believe I was about to leave you alone on the dance floor to mingle with other suitors,” you joke and, though his expression remains relaxed, his eyes darken subtly.
“I wouldn’t let them so much as breathe in your direction,” he declares, your breath becoming stuck in your lungs again. “Plus, you were saying that you required a stick to fight them off.”
“I did not say I required a stick,” you counter, lightheartedly bumping your shoulder against his while you make your way back into the manor. He merely smiles, a rare, genuine smile. “Though, I would like to apologize for my brash observations.”
“You are forgiven.”
“Thank you,” you exhale, following him to the refreshments table.
“And…”
“Nevermind,” you backtrack, but he continues nonetheless.
“As reparation for insinuating that I act like an abused animal–”
“Which you do,” you retort quietly and he chuckles, shaking his head.
“Next week, you will accompany me in receiving a visiting ally prince,” he says. “As it would be dreadfully boring to do alone and you, thankfully, bruised my ego, I will be dragging you with me on his guided tour of the kingdom’s market district.”
“Must I really attend?”
“Who’s acting like the kicked dog now?” He smirks and you have no choice but to go along with his plan. Now, after several rounds of beating his royal ass in poker, it was time for you to leave and prepare for the social night between the Takami and Todoroki kingdoms.
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#dabi x you#dabi x reader#dabi x y/n#touya todoroki x you#touya todoroki x reader#touya todoroki x y/n#mha x you#mha x reader#mha x y/n#touya x you#touya x reader#touya x y/n#bnha x you#bnha x reader#bnha x y/n
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au where gotham is actually a glowing, isolated city that is IN the ghost zone but no one realizes it.
Like, Gotham is literally just Metropolis but where the brooding dead are. They are two sides of the same coin, but Gotham is where the dead go to stay if they die angry.
People don't really age unless they WANT to, the dead come back to life, travel from Gotham to other places is very wibbly wobbly. But Gotham has natural hidden portals that connect it to the rest of the living world.
The result?
Living people thriving and building a life for themselves in the Realm of the Dead.
Except that the dead don't know they're dead.
Sometimes they get knocked on their ass, yes, and they get kicked into the actual Zone for a bit, but they find their way back and either don't acknowledge that they died or do and just go "eh, it's fuckin Gotham. Whatcha gonna do about it?" and go about their day.
Bruce? Dead. Jason? Dead. Stephanie? Dead. Damian? Dead. Tim? Alive. Dick? Alive. Alfred? Dead. Cass? Alive. Duke? Alive.
The only one who really KNOWS is Constantine, and he reallllllly doesn't want to be the one to tell Batman that he's, uh....living challenged. Unalive. Technically a Ghost.
And then there's Danny, who's just like.
"The fuck do you mean there's an ungovernable city in the GZ? It has humans? Damn that place sounds great hold my crown imma vacay."
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Word changes...
All of the following is IMO, so YMMV. :->
*****
Anyone noticed how "weaponry" is used nowadays in places where "weapons" would work just fine (and is often more correct)?
Yes, they ARE interchangeable, sort-of, but it's clunky and sounds to me either slightly journo-pompous or like a failure to remember the right word so plugging the most similar one into its place.
ETA: I checked one of my dictionaries, and while "weapons" is more modern, "weaponry" is an obsolete word which has come back into favour. I wonder why...?
*****
"Decimate" turns up all the time, usually when the correct word is "devastate".
Merriam-Webster says: "It's totally fine to use 'decimate' as a synonym for 'devastate'. This is why."
Beg to differ.
As the M-W article points out, "decimate" originally meant a Roman military punishment applied to one man in ten of a guilty unit. (Initially execution, but this had a rotten effect on unit morale, so it was reduced in severity to fatigues, extra drill or restricted rations.)
That's now considered a far too specific meaning and only linguistic pedants dig their heels in. Quite right too, and I speak here as a (bit of a) linguistic pedant...
However, it remains a useful word for more generalised incomplete destruction of living things - saying a regiment, flock, herd or population was "decimated" implies there are some survivors without quibbling over how many tenths. If totally wiped out, however, that's when words like "destroyed" or "obliterated" are more appropriate.
On the other hand something inanimate like a factory, city or region would be "devastated" - and in addition, saying someone is emotionally devastated is understandable, but saying they're emotionally decimated is peculiar.
Two words, several meanings.
It's like cutlery: a spork can replace knife, fork and spoon, but individual utensils give a lot more precision and variation of use.
*****
There are also a couple of real howlers, not just transposed words but actual errors.
One I've heard several times is using "siege" (a noun, or thing) instead of "besiege" (a verb, or action).
For reference, there's a term called noun-verbing, and the practice is quite old: "table the motion / pencil you in / butter him up / he tasks me", but all are either when there isn't already a verb-form of the word, or as a more picturesque way of saying something.
(Interesting side-note about "table the motion": in US English, it means "to postpone discussion" while in UK, CA and I think AU English, it means the complete opposite, "to begin discussion". Why there's this difference, I have no idea, but it's worth remembering as a Brit-fix when writing, also in a real-life business context.)
There IS an existing verb for the action of surrounding a castle and cutting it off from outside help, and that verb isn't "sieged". It's "besieged" or "under siege". Anywhere using "sieged" as a verb is wrong. The Firefox spellchecker in Tumblr Edit Mode is telling me it's wrong right now.
Merriam-Webster, I'm looking at you again.
*****
There's also "coronate" used as a verb. "The King was coronated at Westminster Abbey". Nope. He was CROWNED.
Coronate is an adjective (meaning crown-shaped) and was coined in in the 1600s by a botanist, as a word to describe the shape of certain plants.
The current Royal-associated usage seems to be a bastard back-formation from "coronation", because the act of putting on a crown is the verb "to crown".
This is almost identical in German, French, Italian and Spanish, with noun and verb the same. The only difference is that their verbs have, what a surprise, verb-endings (-en, -er, -re and -ar) on the noun while English does not.
Because English doesn't like to make things that easy...
"Coronated" might be people trying to sound archaic, or those who've bought into the dopey "said-is-dead" school, who perform any linguistic contortion to avoid common words, and who've been taught that repetition in a sentence - "crowned with a crown" - is BAD.
Is "coronated at a coronation" in some way better?
Guess what's got uncritical examples...
If that's M-W scholarship, I'll stick to the OED and my old but utterly reliable New Elizabethan Dictionary, thanks very much.
*****
Language is funny: sometimes funny ha-ha, sometimes funny annoying, but often just funny peculiar, because English etc. etc...
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Suuuppeeer rough stuff but here’s like, the meat of my Daydreamer AU plot, and some fun stuff… my sketches are lazy
Alright so here’s the sitch, my ramblings…
This is prismos deal;
Prismos dreamer was killed in his sleep, leaving behind Prismo as a daydream. Blue, desaturated, and more husk-like. Prismo didn’t have much of a clue as to what happened until he checked on his “body” and discovered the dreamer had been assassinated, but didn’t wake up in the process.
Scarab got a notification that Prismo had died and that there was an unknown entity in the vicinity, so he went to scope it out. He found what looked like prismo, and realized it was definitely prismo. Though still feeling bitter, he used the situation to chase off and mock Prismo.
Prismo escaped by pressing the TV remote before things got ugly, he went to the most chaotic place he could think of; Where the mushroom war took place. Because he thought he would be harder to track there.
He found shelter in an old well near a civilization. The people living there had children who regularly wished at the well, they called it the “Wishing Well”
So when Prismo got there, he decided to use some of his leftover power to help grant the children’s wish when they tossed coins down. Prismo decided to use the coin of the first children’s wish as a pupil, because he was unsettled by his own reflection in the water.
Eventually rumours spread about the Wishing Well that Prismo inhabited, and he got more wishes, the well slowly being filled with coins and other various objects. Obviously it was then easy for Scarab to find where Prismo was hiding out.
When Scarab found where Prismo was hiding he found it hilarious, mocking him further at how useless he had become. This drove Prismo even further into his turmoil, but Scarab had left him there to rot in the well. Until a crown with immense magical power was haphazardly thrown down.
Here’s where I’m at with Simon;
Both Simon and Prismo are a bit crazy by the time they meet in the well, after Simon had thrown the crown down in a fit of anger and desperation. Prismo couldn’t grant his wish due to most of his power being used up by that time, but since it was a bigger wish than any other he had granted while in the well, Prismo could get away with excuses.
Prismo promised Simon that he would help Simon get what he wanted since he was a wishmaster, he just needed to keep Prismo around long enough to get his power back. So Simon keeps Prismo in a prism necklace, shining light into it when Prismo wants to stretch his form.
Simon was manipulated by Prismo using his fear of losing Betty and desperation to keep Marceline safe. Prismo clung to the magic of the crown because it was similar to his own that he had lost; granting a wish and all. and also because he felt like he was losing it down in the well he was in, he was driven desperate for the power he once possessed and a need to finally explore the world beyond what he saw on the TV screen back in the time room.
Prismo is consistency being pulled between who he was before and the deceitful way he is now, feeling both guilty and angry from what was taken from him, and what he feels like he needs to do to “fix things”
Meanwhile Simon is now protecting both Marceline and Prismo using the ice crown under Prismos instructions, though he now sees things through more rose-tinted glasses (literally LOL!) due to Prismo filling his head with half-truths and white lies. He’s able to keep the other two safe by using snow-based defensive strategies, hence “Snow King” though if he needs to he can use larger shuriken-like ice snowflakes
I’m not sold on the way I drew him but here’s the deets
-his beard grew as long as his hair but he cut it short so prismo could see out of the prism, he keeps his hair long so Marceline can braid it
-Prismo made a passing comment about him looking cool in red so now it’s his thing
-like, a little bit happier than in the cannon show, but it’s all based on lies so it’s tragic
-more focused on his work again because of Prismo, kind of torn between that and looking for Betty?? Who knows
To be honest, if anyone’s got better ideas lemme hear em’ cause I might be crazy about this and far off the mark with how Prismo would act in that situation
Also yes scarab becomes the new wishmaster, still have not thought that design out yet be gentle
Also I think about this song a lot while thinking about daydreamer AU, have it
#daydreamer au#cried and sob into my illow#definitely not an excuse to have more Simon and Prismo interaction#Spotify
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“Hello, I’m the friendly wizard _____. My name got taken by a fey prince but it hasn’t really hampered my life. Anyways I am new to this wider wizard community and would like to get along. I have a magic book, a cart, and a friend. His name is Jerry, he is a fungus colony that has taken over my magic book and acts sort of as my patron. He…is a little weird but great fun.”
*sound of an explosion in the background, a book flys by being chased by goblin shamans casting fire ball*
“He is…”
“He is fine.”
“Anyways, I am here to sell goods and make a small profit. If you need something I’ll see what I can do : ) ”
“Also apparently I helped smuggle an amnesiac @fattocatto-wizard out of the city in my wagon. That was a shock, though he was just a cat.
Character Cheat sheet
( 3 currency to 16 silver crowns and 2 copper crowns)
(Current balance 77,324.750001 currency, one penny, 23 meat pucks, 14 pounds, 2 gold coins one with Julius Cesar on it, 3 naturally-grown mana stones, 2 highly enchant able metal pieces, and one bar, 1 special bug corpse, 769 gold, silver 18, 70 aus, 5kg silver, magic dirt house size. 24 counterfeit currency. Moss/lichen-coded bio stone. An inverse cold torch. 99 BG silver. EMERALD LINCOLN, GOLDEN CARROT, 200 SALTED MEAT DISKS, 200 POLISHED ROCKS, 82 FIGET SPINNERS!, A FULLY EQUIPPED LICH'S DUNGEON, and a cardboard box (magic black marble).” Invisibility stone, a bundle of drake feathers, quantum locked rock, raw gold. 9 Gold coming from the green goblin empire, 50 mushrooms, 92 secret society emblem. 5 trans enchanted gold coins, 2 skull coin, ancient lost civilization fragment, 5 glistening green metallic coin, 31 writhing bugs of gold, jade coin. Pile of gold coins and gold coin bugs, pile of shines from harpy, dust, quantum glass shards, bag of tooth shaped candy, 6720 candies from the festival)
(Currently holding baby frost dragon.)
(Jerry’s balance 13 gold, a fancy rock, 1 coin, flower petals (snacks for later), harpy eyes, feathers, vocal cords, and talons)
(Warlocks of Jerry @fungal-boy-witch-yay @ignisuadaroleplay @life-is-okay-rn2 I think that is who it was…)
(Possessions - wealth stone, Antidote stone)
Owner of membership cards
——————————
@the-final-knight-2
@confused-sorcerer
@bi-gender-sorcerer
@the-mighty-dalob
@detectivewizzard
@goblin-wizard-in-the-making
@serious-tabaxi
@weltreths-wanderings
@ignisuadaroleplay (will)
@shittest-wizard-ever
@wizard-wylin-wylerian
@akronus-and-associates (the primordials)
—————————————
@hallowed-the-silver-gun
@jormungand-seas-champion
@crow-natures-wrath
@antros-ember-of-fear
@akronus-the-redeemed
@clockwork-time-watcher
@aldira-born-anew
——————————
@wizard-ghost
@yeast-wizard
@crickled-thorn-thug
———
Perks
———
5% off all purchases
Special requested items
More favorable bartering
———
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Accismus
Summary: You're a treasure hoarder who's stolen the most precious thing in Inazuma: the crown prince, Scaramouche. (GN! Reader)
Word Count: 2.4k
CW: VIOLENCE!!!!! Mutual violence, but like. there's undertones. idk. Reader isn't a good person, Criminal Reader, Antagonist reader, unestablished relationship, a little toxic (given the circumstances), blood, Royalty AU, (Scaramouche whoops your ass.)
A/N: Formatted on Mobile ♡. Sorry I've been away! This was originally meant to be for a larger story but my ass Did NOT finish it so I'm just going to post this lolz...plus, with Fontaine, there is so much potential ( ☆∀☆) BUT FINALLY SCARA FIC! posted at. 3 in the morning :')
Silver to gold.
The raven insignia colored like the brilliant sun would finally, finally, be yours to claim—tangible, indisputable proof of your convictions, ambitions, and desires. If the gods gifted conduits to those they considered worthy, then this coin was more than divine acknowledgment.
This insignia was your Vision, bestowed by fellow mortals.
Because today, you have captured a trophy.
Prince Scaramouche glowered in the chair he was untenderly pinioned to, indigo eyes never once breaking from your figure. He hadn't spoken once since his fateful acquisition, instead redirecting what would usually be a flurry of insults into a piercing gaze, sharp enough to cut flesh.
His yukata—the layers of purple and red silks, once draping his form in nobility, status, royalty—laid disheveled across the ground. The only things remaining before his abduction were the dark juban slipping over his body, along with the necklace made of black and red string, harboring a single, golden feather. The man in front of you, now a mere ghost of what he used to be.
You nodded to your men as they finished the last knots on his wrists, nodding to you, before departing the tent. He tugged at the restraints, grimacing.
"Wipe that damn smile off your lips," he sneered, red eyeliner melting in the crinkles of porcelain skin.
"Oh? So he finally speaks. Hello, your Highness—" you bowed lightly, though in no part due to deference—"how did you know? Was my excitement truly that obvious?"
"Tch. Not even that rag you call a mask can hide your ugly face."
"...wow." A soft laugh bubbled from your throat, and the corners of your lips twitched—up close, he couldn't escape scrutiny. The rumors were entirely true.
His infamous, hot-headed temperament juxtaposed his delicate features.
Even through anger, he was beautiful.
"Get away from me, worm," he jeered, narrowing his gaze.
"I suggest you mind your manners," you chastised, closing the distance between the two of you, much to his dismay, "you have no authority here, and your mother isn't here to protect you. So know your place, Prince." You spat the last syllable, honeyed in vitriol. The feather accessory almost crumbled in your grip as you jerked it forward, ripping a strangled gasp from the man.
"Here, you're as insignificant as the rest of us, got it? Your blood is just as red as mine when spilled."
With your thumb and forefinger, you pulled a little more, the strings protesting by digging themselves into the skin of his neck.
"Is that supposed to be a threat?" Scaramouche wheezed out, his head craning forward, coughs and laughs mixing into raspy drawls, "please. One blemish on me and your head will be on a pike."
"Hah." Your free hand trailed up the plush of his cheek, fingers resting on the crease of his eye.
"Get your filthy hands off—"
"If that were really the case, if you were so precious—" you smeared the pristine makeup onto his temple, and Scaramouche let out a guttural hiss, "—it wouldn't have been so easy to pluck you out Tenshukaku."
"You—!"
And the necklace snapped.
At that instant, his body tensed and his face contorted into a snarl, teeth ready to snap at your limbs. What little poise he managed to conjure for this ordeal dissipated in a matter of seconds.
How amusing.
"You have no idea what you've just done."
"Why so riled up? I'm sure your mother will get you a new one, you spoiled heir," you hummed, stepping away before his teeth could find your arms, "of course, unless the rumors are true?"
Infuriation overtook his indigo eyes, along with a flicker of hurt…or pain?
"Enough," he barked, "one more word and I'll rip your tongue out myself." The remark appeared almost funny, the way his shoulders shook like a petulant child.
If only you saw past the hilarity, and caught the screech of nail to cotton fiber.
"Tell me," you continued your taunt, waving the feather haphazardly in the air. At that moment, he was more hilichurlian than prince, "is it true you’re nothing more than a prince in name? How much of a brat are you, to be denied your birthright on the throne?"
"You'll regret that," Scaramouche seethed, "do you know who I am? Do you know who you're dealing with?" Every passing word accompanied another shake of his arms. "I'll have you beg for mercy."
"I think you're overestimating yourself," you said, rolling your eyes. "I don't think someone who fell victim to treasure hoarders, of all groups, has any—"
"You talk too much."
A small, misplaced half-smile spread across his countenance as the rope fell behind the chair with a soft thud.
The rope tethering him in place.
The rope with red-tinged ends, allowing him an opportunity to lunge.
You narrowly barreled out the way, too busy swallowing down shock.
“Give that back!” Scaramouche hissed, “that’s mine!”
You clenched the aureate pinion in your fist, ramming your elbow into his side.
“Tch!”
He staggered back, glaring you down. Moonlight peeked from the tent’s entrance, and illuminated his back in a way that made him seem almost holy.
But surely, no angel would be stupid enough to stay where their wings would be clipped. His aggression outweighed his rationality, you deduced, as instead of fleeing, weak sparks of electro spat from his bloodied fingertips.
“Huh. You sawed through your bindings using nothing but your bare hands and energy. That’s kind of impressive.”
“That’s mine,” he repeated, “that’s mine.”
“Is it now? I don’t see your name on it.”
Now on adjacent sides of the tent, the two of you locked into a waltz of frenzied attacks and defenses.
Despite not having a sword, the eventual successor of the Musou no Hitotachi fought as if he embodied the blade. Nimble fists like the wind, he slashed at your frame. He moved with deadly, facile, precision, adorning your skin in small, blooming bruises. Your only saving grace to avoid anything greater was your own adeptness to combat. Each swipe was blockaded by a feint on your end, each kick met with a parry, two adversaries encompassing the other in a cramped space, both sparring for purchase in a hopeless impasse. Static blanketed the air as the assault droned on.
This unnecessary long-winded fight could end the moment your men came to your aid. Is that why he guarded the entrance so fervently?
“You know, one scream from me and you’re done for,” you quipped.
“Hah. I’m not that weak.”
You bit your tongue to avoid spilling out the thought that, no, he wasn’t, and you respected his strength.
“There’s fifteen of us and one of you. Don’t be an idiot, now,” you said, laughing softly, taking a step forward, “we overpowered you once, and—oh, history has a habit of repeating itself.”
His brows furrowed, and he glared at you. “Do it then. I don’t care,” he sneered, a sardonic smile threatening to overtake his face, “I’m sure you’ll sound lovely.” The prince matched your footwork; he was hellbent on taking you down.
You knew that if he was afforded any advantage, you'd succumb.
So began the reprise.
Each hit on your forearms, each returned in equal fervor, each swerve you employed to avoid his kicks, your lungs heaved with short-lived air, the deadlock turning evermore in his favor.
As the dance raged on, your composure waned. Imbalance. Sloppiness. Exponentially labored breaths—in, out, in...in, in, in....
“Hehe. Surely you can do better than that, thief.”
This wasn't just a difference in ability. No, how could someone not grow weary after this long? Scaramouche maintained an imperious grin on his face, never once faltering. It was as if he was inhumane.
Maybe this was the effect of royal blood.
Another stumble meant another loss, another small victory awarded to your enemy...
"Why are you even here? Just give up," he spat, aiming a particularly strong punch to your ribs.
Was he getting faster, or were you slowing down?
You saw it coming. You watched how his painted nails—crimson, bloody—clenched together, how sadism bled into his smile, how it traversed through the air...
It was most certainly the latter.
Air knocked from your system, it was your turn to stagger.
"You're weaker than I thought. How pathetic," he said flatly, shaking his hand off, "how disappointing."
You couldn't breathe. Every attempt to reach for air ended in sharp pains and the dispelling of oxygen in your lungs. That damned rag. There was no point in trying to hide your identity at this point. Already too deep in, the crime too far gone…
You clawed the mask off your face, glaring at your opponent.
"You're the one that talks too much," you gasped out between shuddering breaths, your lips contorted into a twisted grimace.
Amidst your blurring vision and preoccupation with beating the man in front of you into submission, you weren't privy to the shift in his visage.
How his eyes widened, taking in every one of your features.
Disbelief casted onto his expression.
Awe.
That too, unfortunately, left him unguarded.
Scaramouche, for all his capabilities, likely lost the battle when your mask fell, and he caught a glimpse of your true face.
Your desperation drew an epiphany; you didn't want to kill him, but you had to fight back. But what if it killed him? What good was a sale if you had no product? Worthless. But what good was a ransom if no one could sell?
Fuck. It didn’t matter. You were a treasure hoarder. A thief. Bound to scrounge Teyvat for leftovers.
And this Prince, right in front of you?
His life was a prize, and you've always had a propensity for stealing.
That was your ambition. Your talent. Your worth.
You were not going to let that gold insignia slip from your grasp.
Not that easily.
Your fingers ghosted your sash. The miniscule glass buzzed with elemental energy.
“I’ll give you one chance, prince,” you murmured. “Stop this ceaseless fight or else.”
“No,” came his immediate response, eyes flickering from your face to your fist, “I’d be a fool to give up when I’m winning.”
“Then stop while you’re ahead,” you snapped sweetly.
With only another laugh escaping his lips, he suddenly burst forward once more. You squeezed your eyes shut, his form like a bullet in your path.
His skillful fighting captivated your senses, yet you had to resort to playing dirty.
As he drew closer, close enough to touch, he took you off your feet, and you grappled at his robes. The feather fell to the wayside, and the prince jerked his head to follow its descent.
Squeezing the pyro potion with your free hand, you could not keep down your thoughts this time.
“Sorry,” you whispered.
The bottle effortlessly smashed against the small of his hip, the unleashed fire focusing its fury on his defenseless muscles.
You winced, the crackle in the air running up your exposed skin in droves. Pyro and the Electro within him swirled and exploded in tandem.
Scaramouche gasped, breath hitching, shoving you away as he convulsed onto the dirt, sudden twitches of protesting muscles exacerbating his agony. His skin stained with sweat—waves of fire rolled over each pore—and shards embedded into his now bloodstained robes—all while folded on his knees--a pitiful display.
You rose on shaky legs, picking the gold ornament back into your palm. At the very least, you could sell this. His carcass would easily hide underneath the sands of Nazuchi beach.
…
…
…
No.
No, something was wrong.
“How…how are you still conscious?”
Although he was clearly affected, and you witnessed his body overloading, the way his head snapped in your direction, and managed an irate expression, devoid of obvious pain that was there mere seconds ago—fascination erupted inside your chest.
“That’s….that’s mine. Give it back!” The demand lacked the vitriol you expected. Instead, it was coated in a breathy plea. “Please! My...my heart...”
“I…” you were at a loss for words. “T-this?” You opened your hand, and his arm—like an instinct awakened within him—darted out to wrench it from your grasp. But, without the support, his body weight lost to gravity.
“Agh-!” He fell, wincing but his arm never went down. “Anything…anything, but that feather.”
Moonlight flooded in as you stared down at your handiwork. And your subordinates, who carried in the odor of sake, who finally noticed that you hadn’t joined in on their hasty celebrations, ran to pin Scaramouche, yanking his arms behind his back, with metal cuffs this time.
“Boss! Are you okay?”
You only hummed at their concern.
"I don't need attention. Our prize does."
Scaramouche, in his hazed state, did not register the moniker. His body forced into rigidness, exhaustion eating at his strength, he only groaned.
Ambling toward the crumpled man, you kneeled, ignoring how the dull ache of your ribs made itself known. Your men, perplexed, slowly backed away, giving you and him some space. He sighed softly as you pulled him into your lap, knees a pillow for his weary head. Taking his face in your hands, you inspected his pulse.
Nothing. Perhaps it was too weak, or too erratic, and yet he continued breathing; clearly alive. How? You wondered. Expected from someone who came from the Raiden herself. Brushing a stray hair sticking to his face, you smiled down at him. What a precious thing he was.
His pupils dilated at your touch, a shudder ravaging through his body. It ached.
"I'm glad you survived. It would have been a shame," you hummed, engulfing him in your gaze. “Out of everyone I’ve come across, you’re the most interesting.”
“You'll pay for this," he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut as he clenched his teeth. His words hardly stung. They held no edge.
"Perhaps," you whispered, parting his fist to place the feather into his grasp. "But for now, I win. I dont need this anymore, since I have you."
"You-"
"Hey, has anyone ever told you?"
"H-huh?" Scaramouche coughed again, too weak to do anything but softly huff.
You began to carefully unwrap his juban away.
"What do you think you're—" the Prince gasped, but was silenced with a finger to his lips.
The robe now discarded, you examined the blood painting over his complexion, the glass a mosaic on his figure.
"My Lord, you really do look beautiful in red."
You carefully started removing the shards out of his figure. His blood stained your skin. But he didn't squirm.
Instead, he whispered a promise under his breath, only for his ears.
"When I get my hands on you, and I win..." Scaramouche muttered, clutching his feather in his palm.
"I'm sure you will too."
.
#genshin fanfic#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact x you#scaramouche#scaramouche x reader#kunikuzushi#There was so much more. this was an opener.#But like . i have so many hobbies#also i play genshin an unhealthy amount so theres that#one day ill write the daydreams in my head in a coherent way#and my insanity will be broadcasted to the world#and the world will echo back.#kunikuzushi x reader
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Coin and Crown au
Parent's Day
It was an unremarkable day, no different than any other. And yet, I couldn’t help but be anxious. Though I knew it would happen, it was the intent after all, this still scares me. Even as I hold the egg in my arms, I can’t help but wonder if this was a mistake. If I’m at all ready for what’s to come. But it is too late to turn back now. I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to try for one with Lamb all those months ago. Still, a part of me regrets nothing. It’s small. And quiet. But it’s there. And I try hard to listen to it.
I look up at Lamb, giving a sermon to the masses gathered below. I wasn’t paying much mind to their words. I never do. They always had a way with words, swaying the minds of even the most doubtful. But such wasn’t needed for me. I already would give the world to see them happy. Such was unbelievable for me not long ago. I have spent centuries alone and figured such would always be my fate. Yet they have my heart, not stolen but freely given.
As Lamb finishes their sermon, they look at me with a gentle smile before addressing their followers once more, making the announcement of our egg. “Alright. Now to the matter I know you have been waiting for. Leon and I used the egg tent and ritual to sire an heir.” They gestured to me holding our egg, the cult’s eyes turning to me. I shift my weight in discomfort, having never liked being the center of attention. It tended to go badly for me in the past. Lamb stole their attention back after a moment. “I’m sure you already knew this since a few among our flock are keen to gossip. But there is also another announcement I’d like to make.” My eyes snapped to them. They hadn’t told me about any other announcement. “In celebration of my future heir, I declare today a new holy day! A holy day to celebrate families and parenthood! Enough food and drink has been prepared ahead of time, so enjoy the day with your families and children without worry. Glory to the red crown.”
“Praise be the lamb!” With that, the crowd exited the temple, eager to celebrate. I waited for Lamb at the entrance as they collected the temple donations. “So. When were you going to tell me about this new holy day?” I asked, a little annoyed I was left out of such. Lamb came over with a cheeky smile. “I just did, along with everyone else. What, don’t like a nice surprise?” They kissed my cheek and held the temple door open for me. I rolled my eyes as I stepped out into the courtyard. The cult had already dispersed to celebrate with their families, so no one bothered us as we exited. I followed Lamb as they walked to the village entrance. “So. Any more surprises I should know about? Don’t want to get spooked and drop the little one.” I joked, though the question was also genuine. Lamb paused, turned to look at me with narrow, judging eyes, and then took the egg from my arms. “wha- I was joking! I would never…well, IS there any more surprises?”
Lamb was quiet, their ear flicking with mild annoyance. Clearly my joke wasn’t funny. Still, they answered my question. “Forenus and the twins have been invited. They should arrive by midday.” On cue, we heard someone calling from the entrance ahead of us. “Ah. There is such JOY in the air today! Thank you for inviting us, Lamb! I always enjoy an excuse to spend time with my kits.” Forenus beamed. She was always a big ball of positivity, even at her lowest. Baal and Aym followed behind, pulling her cart with them. “Mother, there is no need for such excuses. We already visit weekly.” Aym grumbled. He always acted more like Narinder than his mother. Consequence of being locked away with him, I guess. “Oh, lighten up, Aym. We are here to relax, remember?” Meanwhile, Baal took after their mother. Always apologizing for Aym’s rudeness and keeping a more upbeat tone. I couldn’t help but smile. Their brotherly squabbling was familiar, though I have long forgotten any siblings I once had. Forenus walked up to us while the twins pulled the cart aside to set up near the entrance, squabbling the entire time. “Oh, is this the little one here, Lamb? Such a large egg! I hope you didn’t strain yourself.” Her face showed genuine concern for Lamb. Lamb smiled reassuringly, adjusting her grip on our child-to-be. “I’m alright, Forenus. No need to fret over me. Not when you already have two kittens worrying you enough.” Forenus chuckled heartily. “Oh, it’s nothing this old heart can’t handle. I can never thank you enough for bringing them back to me, Lamb.” I stopped paying attention as they continued to chat, a sense of déjà vu overtaking me as I watched the two mothers.
I couldn’t dwell on it for long as Narinder approached, his presence announced with his trademark growl of disapproval for anything Lamb does that he wouldn’t. “Another frivolous holy day. I do not know why you would celebrate something so insignificant and beneath you as being a parent.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at his complaints. While he had settled into his retirement with relative contempt (given the amount of freedom he has), this damned cat always finds something to complain about. “Well why would you see the value in it? It is not like you or your kin ever had children, much less indulged in another.” I had hoped my remark would silence or upset the fallen god, but he only laughed. “Foolish mortal. Kallamar tried once. It did not go well. And Shamura has no interest in such.” He looked so smug for someone airing out their family’s dirty laundry. “Besides, I have indulged in such sinfulness once. ONCE. It was not worth remembering or repeating.” Me and him exchanged glares for a moment. Then Forenus cleared her throat, grabbing our attention. “Well, I’m sorry you did not enjoy our night together, my lord. Though it is one I hope to never forget.” Narinder’s face went through a list of emotions. Confusion, realization, embarrassment, and anger. Lamb and Forenus laughed as he demanded their silence on the topic before storming off. Even I couldn’t help but chuckle at his karma.
“What did you ever see in them, Forenus?” I had to ask, “I doubt he has been anything other than a prick.” Forenus finished laughing, sighed, and stared at Narinder’s retreating backside as she answered. “Oh, I was a zealous woman in my youth. Becoming a high priestess was inevitable, and from there devotion fell to obsession. And when his volunteers dwindled, I acted on that obsession. But I do not regret it for a moment. It has brought me more joy than I could imagine.” Lamb perked up as Forenus finished speaking. They had sat on the ground with our egg in their lap, probably to let their arms rest for a moment. “Oh, wait! Forenus. You’ve been around since Narinder was sealed centuries ago, right? So, you would have met my people before we were hunted.” Forenus nodded and Lamb erupted in a barrage of questions. They always wanted to learn more of their lost people. I couldn’t blame them. I looked past them at Baal and Aym, who had finished setting up their mother’s wagon and had begun sparring. They are their mother’s joy, yet they act so much like their master.
…wait. Their mother’s joy. ‘More joy than I could imagine’…
My jaw dropped as I put the pieces together. “Wait a minute…is Narinder the twin boys’ father?” Lamb and Forenus looked at each other before giggling together, as if I stated something obvious. Lamb was first to answer. “Heket had told me a while ago. Seems he is the only one in his family that doesn’t know.” Forenus regained her composure next. “Ah, it was a lifetime ago, but I’ll never forget it. By the time I knew myself that I was with child, his entombment was nigh, and I had no chance to tell him. I suspect that is why the purple one sent them to him. Family to keep him company. Anyways, I’ve chewed your ears long enough. Go enjoy the festivities, Lamb. I’ll be by my wagon if you need me.” With that, Forenus joined her kits by the wagon. Lamb got up and looked towards the cult grounds before handing the egg back to me. “Take this to the nursery for me. I see a fight brewing at the drink house.” And they hurried off without another word. Sighing, I began the march to the nursery…on the other side of the cult.
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Ready to rec some awesome fics that I read this month!! Feel free to add on with some of your own Bagginshield recs. 😁
April 2024 Rec List
G Rated:
A Dwarven Beauty by bebel_bee (Complete, 4K, 1ch.)- You have to love cultural differences where it comes to the dwarven and hobbit concepts of beauty. Bilbo is getting a bunch of odd comments on his looks that he thinks are derogatory. This is such a fun, quick read with fun misunderstandings and a lovely getting together scene.
Green-Handed by lotus0kid (Complete, 41K, 20ch.)- This was a really fun magical hobbits fic. Under certain conditions, hobbits go "green-handed" which means they can grow anything through touch and that's how Bilbo finds himself one morning. The ending of this fic just gets me with how absolutely enamored Thorin is with Bilbo and his gift.
Ive found Frodo...and he found you? by Lucigoo89 (Complete, 2K, 1ch.)- I need to preface this by saying my house had an entire den of fifteen skunks living under it that we tried to relocate...I absolutely despise skunks. But I gave this a chance for Lucigoo and it was as predicted, completely adorable. Little skunk Frodo wanders off and when Bilbo goes after him, he finds him in a den of badgers, one of whom he knows rather intimately.
T Rated:
Burning Crowns by Morg47 (Complete, 9K, 2ch.)- I read the first chapter when this was just a one-shot craving more and the author didn't disappoint! Infamous thief Bilbo helps the rightful king of Erebor in his assassination attempt of Smaug. I love seeing a confident BAMF Bilbo, and apparently Thorin does too.
Frozen Heart by snowmissus (soul_of_blaze) (WIP, 14K, 5ch.)- This is such a unique AU with a compelling set up. Bilbo has been tasked by Yavanna to try to help Erebor out of its frozen state, and by extension its king. Very fairytale-esque with some great characterizations and interactions, I can't wait for more!
Imbalance by northerntrash (Complete, 10K, 1ch.)- This story genuinely shocked me! In this Hades/Persephone AU, it is Bilbo who is Lord of the Underworld and Thorin who is a plant life god. As cracky as that sounds, it actually legitimately works in this AU as Bilbo and Thorin rely on each other to make themselves better.
There and Not Back Again (or, The Saving of Erebor) by femmbingley (WIP, 178K, 52ch.)- There’s so much to say about this fic. Post-BOTFA dwarven politics where Bilbo has assumed the duties of the consort which makes things more difficult for Dain. I really love the characterizations and I just can’t get enough of this fic!
to feel you like a knife by queerofthedagger (Complete, 23K, 2ch.)- Thorin's POV absolutely shook me at the beginning as he describes seeing his three loved one laid up in cots. After Bilbo saves Thorin's life, he wakes up to find his memories prior to Laketown are gone. It was so well paced and absolutely delicious in angst with a happy ending.
M Rated:
Backs to the Wall by Conkers (WIP, 124K, 24ch.)- I held off on this fic for a long time, not because I was worried I wasn’t going to enjoy it, but because I knew how much it would have me foaming at the mouth. Missing the deadline, the Company splits up at Laketown with Thorin, Dwalin, Nori, and Bilbo remaining to earn some coin. I’m beside myself with the gentle, sweet moments of pre-Bagginshield that have me screaming.
E Rated:
The Burden of Choice by Fantasyinallforms (Complete, 56K, 12ch.)- I went absolutely feral over this fic! Bilbo and Thorin are arranged to marry each other, neither knowing who the other is, and they escape in the night and begin to travel together. There were just so many emotions throughout this fic, it was so well written!
The Riven Crown by BeautifulFiction (Complete, 254K, 31ch.)- It was time for another read of this wonderful story. Bilbo stays in Erebor to see them through the winter only to find himself in a courtship with the king and a plot to see Thorin off the throne. This is just the ultimate Bilbo remains in Erebor fic and definitely worth the read if you haven't already.
Theft by Erinye (Complete, 124K, 40ch.)- Another epic that I had to reread this month. For his part in the alliance, Thorin demands Bilbo be returned to the mountain to be tried for his crimes in stealing the Arkenstone. Although the deaths of Fili and Kili break my heart in this fic, the rediscovery of Bilbo and Thorin's relationship through sex and comfort makes this a great read.
#fic rec friday#sunny recs it#the hobbit#bagginshield#feel free to add on with your own recs#this was certainly a month for epic long fics
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The Mark of the Dragon [Aegon Targaryen x Reader]
Series masterlist || Other HOTD stories [requests open]
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Summary: You grew up on the streets of Fleabottom for the majority of your life being orphaned at the young age of ten. Apart from your striking hair color, the only thing you inherited from your family was a birthmark on the back of your left shoulder blade. On the week of festivities to celebrate the King’s eldest, Aegon the Second, you end up encountering him. You help him forget about his duties of being Prince and Heir to the Iron Throne until one fateful night…. [AU based where Aegon was crowned heir instead of Rhaenyra]. 
Warnings in this chapter: Innuendos to fingering/female masturbation; innuendos to getting a blowjob {male giving female}; light petting; light fingering.
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Chapter I
An old tale goes that Aegon the Conqueror shared a mark with his wives, a mark in the shape of a dragon’s head. It is said that according to Valyrian marriage customs, Aegon married his eldest sibling, Visenya, although his eyes were after his younger sister Rhaenys.
Rhaenys was said to reject her brother’s advances at first, believing it was wrong for her to court her brother who was already wed to Visenya although she could not even deny the attraction she had towards him. Every day Aegon would shower her in gifts from the most exquisite dresses to the brightest of jewels proving his love for her. In response, Rhaenys told him; “a dragon does not need material possessions. She does not need clothes or jewels; she only needs the physical touch of her mate.”
Aegon had wanted to show Rhaenys he could be a proper mate for her and devised a plan. He had set up a flight above the stars with his beloved sister; him on Balerion and her on Meraxes. It was a glistening night above the water and when they landed on the shores of Dragonstone.
Aegon was gentle with his hands as they found the laces of Rhaenys’ red dress, his sister having a playful smirk on her lips. “What are you doing, Aegon?” She asked quietly.
“You said yourself all a dragon needs is physical touch.” His lips brushed against hers, getting the ties undone. “And I would like to show you that physical touch you need.”
Rhaenys’ smirk turned into a small smile, her hands easily finding the buckles to Aegon’s doublet. Her lips crashed with his in a heated kiss as he pushed her dress down slowly by the sleeves. She released the kiss for air and quickly helped get his tunic off although she stopped at the sight before her.
“A dragon,” She breathed, her fingers gingerly tracing the shape of the birthmark that rested upon his left pectoral- a dragon’s head.
Aegon furrowed his brows as he watched Rhaenys with a curious glint in his violet eyes. She helped him pull the rest of her dress down and his gaze settled on the matching birthmark wrapped around her right hip. He took a deep breath gripping her by the thighs and pushing her up against a nearby rock, his lips moving back to hers.
“Marry me,” He suddenly mumbled against her lips.
“What?”
Aegon gripped her chin lightly so she would look at him. “That mark,” He breathed out. “Visenya has one just the same on her lower back…you are made for me, my dear Rhaenys. Marry me before the next moon cycle.”
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It was rare to see the streets of Fleabottom in such a festive state, especially the lower parts although the gracious King had made sure that all of King’s Landing’s subjects were to celebrate his eldest son and his name day coming by the end of the week. To you, it was the perfect time to gain a few coins…and not in the most honorable way.
You pushed your way through the crowd; children were running about with loud squeals passing them, a few men already drunk and trying to catch the eye of a desperate whore. You hummed a bit picking up a sweet green apple as you passed a vendor’s stall. You always believed the more gold that lined a man’s pocket, the more foolish he seemed to be.
Your eyes scanned the area as you took a bite into your apple, furrowing your brows a bit. It was quite hard to see possible targets from your position- you needed a better view and knew the perfect place to go. The Madame Madelyne was never keen on your presence and so you needed to get into her establishment without being caught.
You crept into the alleyway beside the brothel feeling along its stone walls until you found the loose stones. You grunted while pulling one free and began to pull the stones surrounding it; you were able to wiggle your way inside once the hole was big enough, it led into the small kitchens tucked away in the corner. Hardly anyone was in there during the busy hours.
“I hope they do not fix that soon,” You mumbled blowing out a breath while tugging your dress down a bit furrowing your brows as you did so.
You sauntered out into the main area being greeted with various couplings- some were men with men, women with women. In a brothel there was no judgement and one was free to live the fantasies that lurked in the darkest part of their mind. Your heart swelled at the sounds of pleasure, it made it easier to take gold from the gullible.
You grunted as you suddenly ran into a body, having tripped a bit while you were trying to make your way through. You looked up to snap at the figure but froze at the piercing violet eyes staring you down- the violet eyes of a dragon. The Prince grabbed your arm so you would not fall backwards, offering you a charming smile as he did so.
“Are you all right?” His eyes scanned over your body, the smile turning into a small lustful smirk. “You should be more careful, sweet one.”
You narrowed your eyes at the nickname before yanking your arm away. “You ran into me if I recall,” You spat.
The Prince’s smirk slowly fell, a look of surprise washing over his features. After a moment though, he chuckled. “I am sure I can change your mind with a good fuck,” He whispered reaching out once more.
You scoffed but let him pull you close by the waist, placing your hands on his chest. “You have come a long way for a good fuck.”
He hummed in response. “Perhaps.” He leaned close to your ear. “Or perhaps I have come a long way for someone to steal the coin off my person,” He whispered, his hot breath tickling your ear.
You jumped slightly when he suddenly grabbed your left hand that traveled south towards his breeches’ pockets. You met his eyes once more; the eyes of a dragon will be the most terrifying sight, your father used to tell you. You do not know if they are looking down their next meal.
“Do you believe me to be stupid?” He questioned not letting go of your hand as you struggled against him.
“Well, forgive me, My Prince…” You used the title in almost a mocking manner; “but I tend to believe most royals are quite daft.”
Aegon clicked his tongue. “You certainly have the mouth on you, girl.” He licked his lips while he looked over you. “But perhaps…I can find a better use for it.”
Your face contorted into disgust. “I would rather rot in the cells.”
“Actually, that comment could cause you to lose your tongue, but I am feeling generous.”
You stepped back once he let you go, furrowing your brows. “Am I supposed to feel grateful?”
Aegon chuckled. “I would. I can make sure you feel grateful.”
You hung your head, a small laugh passing your lips. “I will make a deal with you, My Prince….” You began, taking his hand. “Let me show you what real gratitude looks like then we may do what you like.”
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The First Night
You leaned against the wall fiddling with the few pieces of gold you managed to take off of a fat drunkard. You told Aegon to meet you under a worn down sign of an inn called The Weary Archer. It was more of a run down ale house with quite a few shady characters, but those shady characters turned into good profit for you. You were always one to take a little gamble at life.
You glanced up hearing the footsteps, a small smirk filling your face at the sight of the Prince walking over, the hood to his cloak still pulled up. “Why are you concealing yourself? Everyone knows who you are and this celebration is for you.”
Aegon chuckled a bit. He had chosen his whores over you the previous night but he had given you a chance this night. “I do not want my special guest to be bombarded.”
You cocked a brow. “Your special guest?”
“Well, you do not enjoy me calling you sweet one.”
You hummed a bit. “Perhaps it is because I believe I don’t deserve the title of being the Prince’s sweet one.”
Aegon smirked at your words. “Give it time.”
You returned Aegon’s smirk before glancing around and taking his hand once more. “I thought I would start the night off with a play in the square. I know it may not be your sort of taste, My Prince but it could give you a good laugh.”
Aegon’s smirk turned into a playful smile as you tugged him into the busy streets of Fleabottom, your own silver hair poking out from underneath your hood. You had similar features to a Targaryen, having vague memory of your father with his own silver locks and deep violet eyes. There had always been whispers as you walked the streets which led you to be a bit more concealing; it was hard to steal when you stood out from the crowd.
You squeezed Aegon’s hand as you stood in the midst of the crowd gathered around the small stage, mediocre actors performing a story about a lowborn girl falling for a handsome Prince; something out of those fantasy books. You smiled lightly hearing a chuckle slip past Aegon’s lips here and there.
“Are you enjoying the story, My Prince?” You asked softly glancing up at him.
Aegon smirked a bit looking down at you. “It is quite different from the stories I was read to as a child.”
“Oh?” You cocked a brow at him. “And what kind of stories were you read to as a child?”
“History about the Targaryens…nothing too exciting.”
You hummed. “It does sound quite boring.”
“Do you know any good stories then?” He whispered in your ear, the crowd laughing at how foolish the actors were being on stage.
“Like most common folk, I can not read, My Prince,” You replied quietly, your eyes watching the play. “My father used to acquire books and would show me the beautiful painted pictures within them.”
Aegon only hummed in response, clapping once the play was over. “Now where to….” He trailed off for a moment, a look of realization washing over him. “I did not catch your name the previous night.”
You smirked grabbing onto his hand. “You can call me thief for now if you’d like.”
He chuckled at that. “That would give you away, surely. You must have some sort of name I can call you.”
You stayed silent while beginning to push through the bustling crowd of people. “In time, Good Prince.”
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The Second Night
You walked down the street, arm in arm with Aegon while looking over the various vendors. Every merchant was trying to outsell the other, trying to entice you to come over and look at their wares. You held up your hand, giggling a bit at their desperation.
“Do you see anything you like?” Aegon asked you softly. “Or anyone?”
You met his eyes and smirked at the violet lustful flames. Another night had passed where Aegon had ended up with the whores in Madame Madelyne’s establishment. His hunger seemed to only grow though; he was not satisfied with the common whores.
“Perhaps,” You responded after a moment. “But I rather keep my urges to myself.”
Aegon groaned. “There has to be someone…is there anyone in your company at The Weary Archer?”
You shook your head eyeing a woman as you passed. You reached out gingerly taking her coin purse that was hanging off the side of the belt around her dress, stuffing it quickly into your own purse. Aegon watched you curiously but did not say anything.
“It could get quite lonesome without the company,” Aegon said after a moment.
You laughed. “You act as though I do not know how to keep myself entertained on a rainy night.” You turned to him stopping at a pillar. You placed your hands on his chest, leaning up slightly to reach his ear. “I like to use my fingers,” You whispered.
You pulled back, a small smirk forming on your lips at the visible hard swallow Aegon made. “But maybe I do need a second pair of hands to help satisfy my needs. I do not always…reach my limit. A whore’s mouth can be good but a Prince’s tongue would do quite nicely.” Your eyes flickered down to his breeches, your smirk only widening at the growing sight. “You best get that taken care. It can be quite uncomfortable.”
Aegon grunted, gripping onto your hips through your dress. “Perhaps I would like some help from a companion. It has been a difficult week for me as you can imagine and I need to relieve some stress.”
You rolled your eyes but the smirk was still present. “I can only imagine how hard it is being a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.”
“It can be especially when it is your name day week and you truly do not wish to celebrate it. My father says he is to announce to the Realms that I am to be his heir once he passes.”
You furrowed your brows at the saddened tone to his voice and moved his hands from your hips, linking your arm with his once more. “That does not sound too bad, being King. You will be pampered and can have your subjects do as you please.”
Aegon looked down with a nod lightly tapping your arm before giving it a light squeeze, his actions confusing you but you stayed silent. “I never wanted the throne. If I could I would give it to my half sister, Rhaenyra or even my younger brother Aemond. Gods know they would be better suited for it than me.”
You looked up at him, placing a hand over his, his flesh warm. “You need to have more confidence in yourself,” You said offering him a small smile when he looked down at you. “A good ruler always rules with the confidence within their heart.”
Aegon opened his mouth slightly but closed it again as you moved your other hand to his cheek, your touch gentle. “You only need confidence in yourself,” You whispered.
The Prince blinked in surprise; it seemed as though he had never gotten such kindness before. He snapped his head over as vendor stuffed a basket full of roses in his face.
“Ah!” The older lady recognized the silver haired man, giving him a smile filled with rotten and yellowed teeth. “Would you like a rose for the lady? It will only be three gold.”
Before you could reject the vendor, Aegon reached into his coin purse and handed it to the woman getting a yellow rose. He turned to you lightly pushing your hood off taking in your full appearance. Your silver hair was darker than his but it caused shock to wash over him nonetheless.
He didn’t make a comment about your hair as he pushed it back behind your ear before slipping the rose in. “My rose,” He breathed out.
You furrowed your brows in confusion. “I-I’m sorry?”
Aegon chuckled. “Since you will not give me your name, you will be called my rose.”
Your expression softened, a soft smile forming. “I like that.”
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The Third Night
“My Prince, this is too much.” You laughed while looking yourself over in the longview mirror.
Aegon hummed while leaning back in his seat, his eyes scanning over your body. He had gifted you a lilac colored gown made of a light fabric with a slight sheerness to it; it had an intricate pattern on the plunging neckline paired with a simple amethyst necklace settled over your breasts.
“It is not enough I say.” He stood up as you turned to face him fully. “You look absolutely stunning, Rose.”
You giggled at the nickname still not used to it while you grabbed your cloak clasping it around yourself. “Are you going to tell me where we are going tonight?”
The Prince blew out a tired breath. “It has been a long day and I need to distract myself,” He replied plainly. “We are going to be watching the fireworks show at Madame Madelyne’s establishment on the roof.”
You made a face of disgust at the mention of the Madame. “Are you planning to have your way with me at the brothel?”
Aegon smirked lightly. “Would it be bad if I said yes?”
You rolled your eyes but grabbed onto his hand; you did not let him see the smirk lingering on your features. You led him into the streets once more, people gleefully shouting as they chased each other. Some were in the square dancing causing a bright smile to appear.
“Do you know how to dance, My Prince?”
“Not particularly.” Aegon rubbed the back of his neck a bit sheepishly.
You giggled tugging him towards the square. “It is really not hard, My Prince.”
Aegon opened his mouth to protest but you took his arm spinning with him. A small laugh passed your lips as he grabbed both of your arms bringing you close. You interlocked your fingers with his, looking into his violet eyes. They seemed brighter than the first night you spent with him and it is causing your chest to fill with warmth.
You felt your heart beat faster as the music picked up while you danced around the center of the square, laughing loudly when you nearly ran into Aegon, his hands going to your waist to support you. It seemed as though nothing else mattered in that moment; not the band playing the music or the other couplings around you. You could not describe the feeling the Prince gave you but it made your stomach do flips every time he looked at you with similar colored eyes that shone as bright as the sun.
Your breath came in heavy pants when the final drum beat echoed, everyone clapping for the performers but your focus stayed on Aegon. His eyes flickered from yours to your lips before a small smile came on his lips. “The sun is to set soon, we should go to our spot.”
You had begrudgingly followed Aegon towards Madame Madelyne’s establishment, gasping a bit at the view before you. Madame Madelyne had one of the higher buildings in Fleabottom although you never climbed onto the roof just to see how lovely of a view it was.
“It is quite beautiful up here,” You breathed, the light wind blowing at your hair.
“I will have to agree,” Aegon whispered although his eyes were not on the city view.
He tugged you down lightly to sit beside him just as the night sky lit up with the first burst of color- red for House Targaryen. You awed as another shortly followed along with two more the color green for the Queen’s house. Your eyes lit up with each firework that brightened the night sky before your eyes went over to Aegon but he was still not watching the show.
You furrowed your brows feeling him place a hand on your cheek and a force drew you closer to him. Your lips brushed his before they connected in a light kiss, Aegon’s hand moving to the back of your neck to pull you closer.
You gingerly reached up placing a hand on his cheek, the kiss heated. You felt his other hand travel down your skirt, not thinking anything of it but frowned feeling him move past your stomach. He took three of his fingers and began to rub you over your dress before he slowly lifted his skirts.
“A-Aegon,” You whispered against his lips.
“You wanted a Prince’s tongue,” He reminded you quietly continuing to rub you.
It sent a chill through your spine the closer he got to the opening, pushing your cunt open with his index and middle finger. You fought back a small moan, feeling your breath come in short pants as he pushed his fingers in while he let out a satisfied hum.
“A wet cunt is the best kind of cunt,” Aegon whispered against your lips.
As he pulled back to lean his head down, you took the opportunity to bite down hard on his bottom lip causing him to grunt and pull away all together.
“You stupid bitch!” He shouted reaching up to feel the blood forming at his lip.
“And I told you to give it time,” You snapped with a scoff while collecting your cloak. “I was right about you royals.”
You scoffed and turned to leave, Aegon staying on the roof, baffled. You hoped it would be the last night you would see the short silver haired prince but you did not know that it was far from it.
❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈
Tagged readers: ✨ @mrsdaemontargaryen ✨ || @aleemendoza2425-blog || @clairacassidy || @ladybug0095 || @namelesslosers || @neenieweenie
#hotd#house of the dragon#hbo house of the dragon#hbo hotd#house targaryen#targaryen#team green#Aegon targaryen#king Aegon#Aegon the second#Aegon the elder#aegon the usurper#Tom glynn Carney#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#HOTD fanfiction#HOTD fanfic#Aegon targaryen fanfiction#Aegon targaryen fanfic#Aegon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen x female reader#aegon targaryen x fem!reader#Aegon targaryen x lowborn!reader#Aegon targaryen x commoner!reader#Aegon targaryen x you#Aegon targaryen x y/n#fire and blood#a song of ice and fire#ASOIF#team Aegon
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Since I have a write up about every other AU I have in this poll, I thought I’d give the medieval AU one as well.
Albert Munson III was traitorous bastard whose only thought was making the next gold coin. Coin he never seemed to be able to hold on to. Gambling, booze, and women were only some of Albert’s vices. His younger, more level headed brother, Wayne did everything he could to try and keep as much of Edward’s inheritance as possible, but it was a losing battle.
Finally Albert spent the wrong man’s coin and ended up beheaded at the behest of the crown. The two remaining Munsons were stripped of their lands, title, what little was left of their coffers.
King Lawrence demanded that Wayne replace his court jester, but Edward stepped in and volunteered, saying that he knew how to sing, and to play the lute. King Lawrence agreed.
The point of the jester is to speak truth to power. To make the king laugh in front of his court and then think later in private. Eddie was good. He was just getting a feel for the old King when the man passes away suddenly. Edward would have suspected the young prince, Stephan, of murdering the old man. But the prince cried harder then the queen mother, Queen Penelope at the funeral.
Queen Penelope is eager to find Stephan a bride as soon as possible. Duchess Annika, called Nancy by her friends. The Marquise Robbyne of Buckley. Her first husband died while she was still young enough to be married off again. Ladies Tamera and Victoria. But the brightest gem is Princess Christine of Cunningham. Are all brought to the castle with a gift and their doweries to entice King Stephan to the alter.
Too bad his eyes tend to wander toward his jester then bevy of beauties his mother keeps parading around.
Sir Dustin is Stephan’s personal servant and guard. Hopper is chief of the guards that include Sirs Lucas, Michael, and William. Lord Jonathan was given head of his family’s fading house when his father died in the battle that Albert, Earl of Munson had sold the king’s own weapons to the opposition.
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Labour?
(Title is still in the works) This is just a brief prologue. With an abrupt ending.
Main pairing: Geraskier,
Side pairings: Vesemir/Original Male Character, Eskel/Original Female character.
Tags: Alpha/Omega/Beta au, canon divergence, arrange marriage -kind of?
Vesemir looks down, unimpressed at the young omega at his feet, even less so at the omega’s beta ‘father’ that put him there. Male omegas were as rare as alpha females, unheard of but not impossible. The boy wasn’t a tiny thing like his omega; he was all limbs and about as tall as his oldest, with no hips to speak of. This wasn’t the first time men have tried to sell their unwanted children off to the witchers to pay their debts. But Vesemir already had enough pups and wasn’t looking for another.
“And what am I to do with him?” Vesemir asks, looking back up at the court. “He’s no child surprise, far too old for the mutations to take.”
The beta growls a low warning, which is unimpressive, but Vesemir doesn’t allow the challenge to go unpunished. Growling back louder, a vicious snarl that sends the beta aback. A fraction of a movement caught Vesemir’s eyes: a young girl hanging off the skirts of her maid. The red swollen mark on her cheek would soon become a proper bruise. She was a timid thing, holding on to a well-cared-for doll.
“She’ll do,” Vesemir says, his eyes narrowing on the girl. "She’ll make a fine playmate for my youngest.”
“No!” The forgotten omega at his feet snaps, grasping Vesemir’s arm, pulling attention back onto him. “You will not touch her.”
Cornflower blue meets harden amber, the first time Vesemir had seen the omega’s eyes full of defiance. The pieces clicked; maybe he would have a use for this omega after all.
“Very well, then,” Vesemir shacks his arm out of the boy’s grasp. “I’ll take the omega off your hands, as well as his dowry.”
“Dowry!” The beta yells,
“Yes, if he is to mate one of my sons, a dowry is to be paid,” Vesemir explains, taking the time to now circle around the omega. “Then again, you are trying to cheat your way out of a 1,000 crown contract. You must not even have a dowry for your children.” A few snickers meet Vesemir’s ears, it seems someone else was enjoying the look of humiliation on the Lord’s face. After that, getting the dowry, a horse for the omega, and a bag of his belongings didn't take much convincing.
“Go witcher.” The lord sneered, “Do not expect a warm welcome again.”
—-------
It was a long ride to where ever the Witcher alpha was taking him. While Jaskier was pleased to be away from his father, he will dearly miss his little sister and hope she will be safe without him there to protect her. The alpha didn’t speak much or at all, only deeming him worthy of conversation to command when to rest, eat, and water the horses.
Jaskier wasn’t good at silence, so he spent most of the time lost in his head, humming songs or speaking softly to himself. He had made it through most of Hannelore Varidil’s epic poem, which he had memorized years ago. When they had stopped in a village outside of Kaedwen after weeks of camping outside, Jaskier was ready for a real bed, even if it was filled with straw. The Witcher dismounted effortlessly, while Jaskier still hadn’t mastered it. Once his feet touched solid ground, a young boy quickly gathered the reins in exchange for a few coins.
“Come.” One-word commands. It seems that all the conversation Jaskier will ever have. Vesemir leads him to some form of market, stalls set up near two established buildings, the inn, and a tailor. Assuming they were heading for the inn, Jaskier didn’t think much but walked forward, only to be stopped by Vesemir.
“Finally going to sell me then?” Jaskier couldn’t help the quip as it left his mouth. Then, he braced himself for a smack that never came, only a chuckle.
“Not worth the hassle.” Vesemir answered, “They’ll probably arrest me for kidnapping.”
“Fair. So what are we doing?”
“Shopping.” Vesemir turned to the nearest stall, selling vegetables, and moved on before finding a traveling merchant with what he needed.
“A master Witcher,” the merchant smiled. Vesemir didn’t need his secondary gender to tell him what he needed from the man. The Distaste was obvious, but he wouldn't turn down a paying customer.
“A blue Opal pendant to match your omega’s beautiful eyes.” The pendant was beautiful, and its silver wiring suited it better than the gilded sapphire next to it.
Vesemir huffed but didn’t correct the merchant; instead settled on a crescent moon-shaped jasper with bronze wiring. “My mate prefers the simpler things in life,” Vesemir admits, holding the necklace in the light.
“A young thing such as him-“
“He’s not my mate. He’s for my son.” Vesemir growls,
#Witcher#Geraskier#Geraskier a/o/b#geralt of rivia#jaskier the bard#jaskier#omega Jaskier#Alpha Geralt
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Dragon!Price x Corvid!Raven AU
This brainrot has tAKEN OVER MY HEAD I SWEAR
bonus + some story if you're interested
bonus
okay so, the idea is that Raven is...predominantly a Raven hybrid(LMAO) but I figured to incorporate some of the Crow and Magpie habits into her
Basically, Raven's been travelling around after she was nearly killed by her kind(hence the scar on her face and the single wing - also a tribute to her actual lore where her back was stabbed), barely able to survive until she stumbled upon Price's den, and WOAH THATS A LOTTA GOLD
so it started off small, where she steals some gold, just enough to survive the week, but then the curiosity grew and she finds herself back to the den, over and over again
I mean there's so much more than just gold coins, there was a bunch of other treasures alike and they're all. so. shiny.
How could she resist?
and so day by day, she explores the den, it's absolutely massive, sometimes she might even slide down those piles of coins for fun
one day a glint caught her attention, it looked like a porcelain pale owl mask, and when she tries it on it was a perfect fit, she kept it afterwards.
the owner of the den seemingly never once appeared no matter how long she waited, and so she assumes it was a long lost forgotten treasure someone had.
she didnt had the intention to steal everything no, in all honestly the den was located somewhere far and dark, and it was only accessible by a very small hole that she squeezed herself through in her full bird form.
it was a safe place to stay and so she did.
until one day when she on her usual walk and picking up a crown that the pile of gold coins shifted, and it reveals......
bright orange scales.
and an eye, which opened once the gold coins stopped.
little did she know, the owner of the den, Dragon!Price has been hibernating beneath the treasures, and now he was awaken by a pesky bird.
YES think about that one scene in Hobbit this was 100% inspired by it
some Dragon!Price hc in this au:
used to take part in battles and territorial fights, which results in many scars, especial the one in his left eyes, one of those fight eventually results him to lost a wing(yes, bluegiragi with their single wing Price for credit)
prefer to be in his hybrid form where his half human half dragon, because being a big lizard boy takes up hella space and hard to satiate his hunger
but he does hibernate as a dragon cuz well he's home, and it feels great to be weighted down by all his treasures
very greedy, if he wants something he'll get it, also dragon hoarding tendencies
havent thought about this but I reckon this so call "den" is just a big hole underneath a castle maybe - ah well just yoinking Hobbit's Lonely Mountain
also possessive :]
Raven herself has shiny fur...and he loves shiny too....so..... :p
#gummmyart#doodle#pLEASEEE im so ill#the size differences....urhhkjahkjshd#damn i need to control myself im on main#anyways#my oc#my oc art#cod oc#cod oc art#shiny au#man idk i just want dragon and raven together PFT#[oc]Raven#Raven[oc]#captain john price x oc#john price x oc#RavenPrice#PriceRaven
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“Darling Diamond”
Wc: 1.4K
Pairing: Ellie Williams x Fem!reader
Summary: Ellie Williams was gonna get over it, after all. A princess could never love a thief.
Ash talks: Hi! So this has been in my works folder 4ever and I’m finally happy with it. I’m probs going to write more for this but I might not post it because I think this will be an acquired taste. However I like it and I want more Ellie au’s. FEED ME. Also I can do a gh version if someone doesn’t want to read the fem one! ❤️❤️
Cw/tw: fem!reader, light violence, talk of old politics ig? Death, Language, stealing, touchy reader, use of y/n, angst, pet names, cheeky reader, not proofread
You were the jewel of the realm, beloved by all of your people. Your father said it was because of how beautiful you were. Gazing at you with a proud glint in his eye, straightening your emerald crown. Your mother waited until he left to attend meetings so she could lean to your ear and tell you it was because of your kindness. Everytime she told you such, you would smile and kiss her cheek before gathering your dress and rushing to your room for a tea party with your lady in waiting and maid.
Ellie was an orphan thief, she was sneaky and calculated even as a child. Just trying to make it through life on her own with nobody to take care of her. So she took care of herself however she had to. That was up until she met Dina and Jesse. She saw them enter her small village with a group, their posture attempting to make them look smaller. She watched as they asked for directions to the capitol city before she volunteered to take them herself.
“It's okay we don't want to trouble you-” Dina started to refuse “I'm heading up there to visit a friend anyway,” she had said in rebuttal. They were her ticket to the big leagues, Ellie wanted out of the kingdom, not only that but she wanted to take down the monarchy. She managed to convince them to trust her quite easily. Jesse slipped up several times throughout the long walk, leading to Dina giving up and allowing Ellie to leave with them after several rounds of back and forth.
Dinas parents were smugglers before they died which got her into the business and Jesse's were heads of the biggest rebellion against the king. After that first mission they became a team. Ellie did any jobs involving violence, they were her specialty really (that or intimidation). Dina came up with the plans and arranged things. Whereas Jesse had the connections. It was perfect really, they were making progress towards their goals. Ellie had a roof over her head, friends, food, and she still got the high from taking down such despicable and powerful people.
Ellie had known you before she left, you two met several times throughout your younger years. When your mother would take you around the kingdom to get out of the palace and feel some freedom, (not that you weren't grateful). You had the tendency to run off as a little girl, often getting lost, causing fuss over the missing princess. When you first met her the both of you were 13 and you had wandered off again. You had witnessed her trying to take an apple from a merchant, unfortunately for her the merchant saw it too and gripped her wrist before she could run.
“What just do you think you are doing here missy? Tryin’ to rob me hu’?” The scraggly man grumbled, pulling her closer. “Let me go you old fuck!” Ellie tried to pull herself away and as the man raised his hand to smack her you ran over. “Sir! I'm so sorry for her, i'll pay double. Please don't hurt her.” You placed the money on his stand, placing one hand on Ellie's waist, the other on your concealed dagger. Fully prepared to run or protect this girl if the man was feeling unforgiving.
He released her wrist making you grip her hips tighter and pull her body to the side, but not before squeezing her hip bone to assure her. Grumbling, he picked up the coins and started counting. He made eye contact with you two, narrowing his one good eye “Well? What ya’ waitn’ for? Scram!” he made a shoeing motion as you pushed Ellie forward by her hips, only stopping once you reached the woods outside of her village.
You finally looked at her face and saw her for the first time. You scanned over her freckles, noticing her eyes that looked at you widely, the color of the jewels on the tiara that waited for you at the castle. You gripped her face with both hands, twisting and turning her to check for injuries. “Are you alright? I'm sorry I grabbed you like that. I was quite worried he was going to hurt you.” She snapped back to reality when she determined you had spoken.
Blinking, she hummed before mumbling a small “why would you do that?” Your eyebrows furrowed and she caught herself getting lost in your features. The curve of your jaw, the soft color of your eyes. “What do you mean why would I, he was going to hurt you.” she heard the disbelief in your tone before she saw it in your eyes.
You looked at her with such care it stunned her. All anyone had ever looked at Ellie Williams with was disgust, anger, or pure hatred. She wasn’t sure what that fluttering feeling in her chest meant, but she wasn’t sure she wanted it to stop.
Ellie cleared her throat and looked away from you, “thank you.” She mumbled under her breath. Sensing her discomfort you decided to try to lighten the mood. Smirking, you leaned all your weight onto the hand you had placed on the closest tree trunk. Pushing out your hip, looking her up and down. You open your mouth, “what was that? I couldn’t quite hear you princess.”
Ellie felt the blood rushing to her cheeks at the term ‘Princess’ She didn't move. Her eyes stayed wide and her palms sweaty. Ellie looked at you and saw the smug look on your face.
She huffed and spoke louder “I said thank you.” You smiled at her and held out your hand, “you’re welcome, I’m Y/n.” She looked at your hand and gripped it firmly. “I’m Ellie.”
You two met many times since then, from you gifting her a guitar, to her lying about her living situation and hobbies. She often remembers the times when you two would go for walks in the woods. She would always watch as you would get distracted by every flower or creature you came across. Making her flower crowns or walking into the streams to grab rocks for her.
She kept as many of the gifts as she could with the little space she had at the time. Savoring all the shiny rocks, clothes and books. Her favorite is the necklace you gifted her on her 14th birthday. It Was simple which is why she loved it so much. Your name with a lilac wildflower, Ellies initials hand carved by you into the lettering. She played with it even now when she got anxious, fiddling with the metal. Every Time she saw a gift of yours she would recall how she had left you.
She left with Dina when you two were merely 15. You were all that she had, the only thing that made her want to stay. Ellie would remind herself that she couldn’t keep up the lies forever. She couldn't act like you wouldn’t be married off by your father to some lord, prince, king or duke. You would never go for her, it was just a crush and she would find someone else.
So she left. She stuck with them even when the plan went sideways. Even when Jesse panicked and stabbed the rich old bloke they were stealing from.
She was too focused to remember it was the 10th, one of the days you came to visit her. She was too focused on the pained yells of the man. “Thieves! Thieves!”
Ellie ran as the guards stumbled to catch up due to her head start. She tipped over the stands and tugged Jesse along. Navigating him through the unfamiliar surroundings of her village. Weaving her body through the crowds and alleyways. The two hurled themselves onto the back cart of a horse Dina had taken. “Fucking drive Dina!” Ellie shouted as the other girl swished the reigns.
“I’m trying! I’m not trying to get us killed Ellie!” Dina kept her eyes on the road through the forest, rushing them forward as Jeese exhaled. Ellie couldn’t believe that they had gotten away, in fact she didn’t believe it. She looked back and saw you telling the Guards chasing their wagon to stop. You furrowed your beautiful face at her. Closing your eyes you commanded the guards to help the injured man.
Once the guards took off running you turned your body to face her in the final moments, your eyes filled with tears before walking away from her.
#ellie williams x reader#x reader royalty au#ellie royal au#ellie williams x reader au#ellie tlou#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie x fem reader#ellie x reader#ellie williams x reader angst#ellie angst#tlou#tlou fanfiction#x reader#x reader angst#ellie williams#ellie williams smut#royalty au#princess reader
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