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insertdisc5 · 4 months

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✨ The In Stars and Time Spoiler Q&A ✨

it's time. MASSIVE IN STARS AND TIME SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. IT'S GONNA BE SO LONG. LET'S GO

I hope you are aware of The Secret Final Boss because I'm also gonna spoil the crab out of that. If you haven't,

1. Did you know the events for interacting with your souvenirs are randomized for some of them, and also change depending on how far you are in the game.

2. Did you know there's a way to show souvenirs to a certain character.

3. Did you know you can go back to Dormont during the Epilogue.

Figure that out, and come back here! Or watch a let's play online. You can also do that.

I will also try to adopt a ~mysterious cool voice with no exclamation points~ for Effect. Come with me on this journey.

Now. Questions time!

✨ Will you ever make a sequel to ISAT, or make a game in the same universe?

Nah. This was always intended to be The Story. This is your turn to imagine things now.

✨ But so what happened to the Country? What was its name? What about the wishes? What about the colors? What did Siffrin say as an openphrase to open the door to the King's room? What about--

I will not answer those. It's your turn.

✨ BUT THE COUNTRY AND THE COLORS AND THE WISHES

Ok fine. Here are some facts that I alluded to in-game, that I am confirming now.

-The Country disappearing and the events that made colors go away are not related.

-The colors disappeared a loooong time ago, which is why knowing they even existed is a relatively new find.

-A wish made everyone forget the Country.

I will ALSO say that ISAT's map operates on Final Fantasy/General Fantasy rules (i.e. in-universe locations are based off of real ones when it comes to culture, but are not one to one parallels, especially for geography), so no, the Country isn't based on the UK oh my god please do not say that to me again or im deleting ISAT out of your computers and putting legos at the foot of your bed. It's based on another place. You can figure it out, I believe in you.

✨ But why won't you give more info on what happened :(

Can you imagine if I did answer. Wouldn't that be a bummer, whatever my answer was. Sometimes things need to stay a mystery. And also, I don't want to answer <3

✨ Does the world Loop came from still exist after they left? Or is this a get mystery'd situation?

There is only One Timeline and it's the timeline that goes from the prologue to ISAT. Every timeline that gets rewound does not exist anymore, and that includes the prologue's timeline.

✨ What's the deal with Siffrin's dream at the start?

It's Siffrin's dream, but that doesn't mean our Siffrin is the main star.

✨ Is [specific missable game moment] canon?

Every moment that you personally experience in the game is canon.

✨ Is there a reason Siffrin remembers their name but the King doesn't?

What makes you think Siffrin does?

✨ At the very very end of the game, if you look out the window behind the Head Housemaiden, Sif mentions seeing an island in the distance. Is that his country?

It is. It's always been there, for the whole game. You can see it in the distance, too.

✨ Who was the King, before?

He was just a guy!

✨ With the King left remembering in the end, does that in any way change the redaction effect for other people in the world going forward?

That's a fun idea. Maybe!

✨ One thing that never really clicked for me is: Is the sweet smell Time Craft or Wish Craft? Or is the sweet smell TIme Craft and specifically the burnt sugar smell is Wish Craft? Other way around? Does this question even matter since without Wish Craft you can't attain Time Craft in the first place? (To me, yes.)

Wish Craft smells sweet. Time Craft doesn't have a smell per se, but it does do something.

✨ Does Mirabelle retain her immunity to being frozen in time after the events of the game or does it go away after the Head Housemaiden is saved? Or does it persist for a while and eventually fade away?

I imagine the immunity slowly faded away. But no one's left to do Time Craft, so it's a moot point anyway.

✨ How was Odile able to stop Siffrin from looping back during the fight against Siffrin?

In the Discord channel I stated that it's because "she's just that cool", but really, she does have access to some skills that heighten the efficacity of Rock/Paper/Scissors attacks, so it's not too much of a stretch to imagine she could lower the efficacity of Time Craft as well. In this last loop, while listening to Loop and observing, she could figure out Siffrin was looping way earlier than she could in even the Sus Quest, so she made plans. She is Very Smart <3

✨ Will you ever share everyone's full names?

That's artbook content <3

✨ In the ending, what happened to Siffrin's hat?

Flew away. It's gone now.

✨ Looking back at the original comics, and seeing how comic!sif has both eyes at the start of their loops, but in ending sequences is shown with his eye patch...did you ever consider making that concept of sif losing their eye a part of the main loop in either of your games? and if so, was there any reason why you decided against it?

Early on, I did think about making that whole event an event that happens during the loops, but quickly let that go since 1. it would be a pain to write and code (two different sets of Siffrin portraits!) and 2. if it happened, the player might want to look for a way to NOT make that happen and so 3. it would be a pain to write and code

✨ How was Siffrin's homelife before?

Pretty good!

✨ How old were Nille and Bonnie when they ran away? How old was Sif when their home got zapped?

Both were teens.

✨ How old IS everyone?

Siffrin is mid-late 20s. Mirabelle and Isabeau are early-mid 20s, with Isabeau being slightly older. Bonnie is a preteen. Odile is Too Old For This. Petronille, Bonnie's sister, is late teens-early 20s. You can ignore whatever I said in the prologue's artbook, whoever wrote this was Wrong!!!!!!!!!!

✨ Regarding the book that talks about someone who crafted a copy of themself using wish craft: is that meant to imply someone we know is the author (and/or the copy), or is it not directly related to any of em? or is it a "who knows ;)" situation where we can just speculate and theorize either way?

Please check the book again during Act 5! This applies to most items/map events by the way, like the pendant. You can check those during Act 5 and 6 for some fun new dialogue!

✨ Why are Siffrin's clothes so warm looking?

The Country got cold at night.

✨ What's up with Siffrin's pins?

They're made out of a special material. And also, they make Siffrin look cool <3

✨ I want to know the story behind Loop’s different eye shades!

They're blind in one eye. Also, fun foreshadowing <3

✨ What determines whether someone is paper/rock/scissors craft? Is it assigned naturally at birth or something else (and how do you find out)? Does it make you more inclined to use that specific craft or is anyone generally free to use whatever craft they want?

Astrology rules, It Just Is A Thing. Being Rock Type means it is way easier for you to do Rock Craft, but that doesn't mean you can't learn other types of craft, although it's way harder. Doing Craft of your type is instinct, doing Craft of another type would take some time and resarch.

✨What crimes has Odile committed before. I need to know.

Odile just smiles.

✨ Why did the King specifically target the House of Dormont?

I had a reason in mind, but adding it to the game would've added a layer of Explanation that really didn't need to be there. It's just a nice House.

✨ Who was Odile's hatecrush...

Dunno. It's your turn.

✨ What is loop's body situation. like is the surface of their "skin" solid? they did poke siffrin that one time, and we know they aren't cold, but...

I have some idea. But it's your turn!

✨ Would Sif still have looped if they hadn't made the wish he made in the beginning? As in, would Vaugarde's combined wish have made him loop until managing to beat the King?

No. But without time powers, you can imagine what would've happened next.

✨ During the Loop Hangout, how did the rest of the team make it all the way to The King? What about during Act 5?

During the Loop Hangout: with difficulty. During Act 5: Loop was there to guide them.

✨ Is Loop: 1. Actually comfortable with both he and they, but only gave the one pronoun to emphasize the distance? 2. Only using they/them because a large life event led to a shift in identity/ how they'd like to be perceived? or 3. time lops stole he from they they :(

Mostly that first one. But all three of those reasons have a bit of truth to them.

✨ Who cooked crab in the House of Change???

This is a very funny question! I've never thought about it. It's your turn.

✨ What are the Orbs that open the gate? Did the King create the Gate or was it there before?

(did not think about the orbs or the gate beyond "plot that proves there was a journey before") Stop Asking Questions,,,, It's your turn,,,,,,

✨ Bonnie's dialogue is *extremely* accurate to how overexcited kids talk, which is really rare to see. Was that something that took a lot of effort to achieve, or did it come naturally to you?

Thank you <3 I'm just that good. Really, Bonnie is an adult with no filter, and less general knowledge. I'm very glad I managed to write Bonnie well, especially since. I haven't talked to a kid. Since I was one myself

✨ The Spoilery Concept Art. Blease

oh yeah. here have it all. this is what I gave Mimi to do the animated trailer!

✨ So. What's everyone's favorite shade.

FINALLY the question. Plus I can say shade names now. White = darkless, Black = lightless. Light and Dark is like light grey/ dark grey. Oh my god I'm checking my notes and I wrote a small event I never used about hair dye colors like "midnight dark", "tomato grey", "snow light" past me that's so fucking funny

Anyway, Siffrin loves darkless, Mirabelle is more of a light shade lover, Isabeau loves that lightless (BECAUSE ITS FASHIONABLE OK), Odile likes darker shades, and Bonnie also loves that lightless (BECAUSE ITS AS DARK AS MY SOUL OK)

✨ Are there any bugs you found during developments that you've made into features?

Two! The first one was the ability to ask Loop to just silently hang out during Act 4. I messed up the code and the game softlocked there, with Siffrin and Loop sitting there silently. I thought it was very sweet. They deserve a little quiet time.

The second was in Act 5 - the House map had a lot of issues with the Act 5 map bringing you back to the normal House map. So one of the testers got brought to the normal House map and didn't notice, and interacted with the Mirror on Floor 3, and it gave them the normal interaction with everyone seeing the mirror and taking a picture, and when they went to look at the picture in their inventory, it gave them the actual Act 5 picture. A little bit after they realized the game bugged out, and told me about it, and begged me to keep that in because they were very unsettled by it. So here it is! Beforehand, it was just Siffrin silently taking a picture, so I'm glad I changed it.

✨ Did you ever have emotional difficulty writing the more sensitive parts of the script, like Siffrin’s intrusive/negative thoughts, for one reason or another? Moreover, did you worry the script may be darker than your initial vision for it anticipated?

Not really. The Mirabelle and Odile hangout scenes were the hardest scenes by far because I really wanted to get them right, but everything else was about the same amount of difficulty. And actually, I wanted to go a little bit darker for the script, but I was worried it was going to be too dark... When it comes to the dagger event, I had a whole tangent about Siffrin thinking about the best way to strike, so to speak, but I deleted it because it was getting A Little Too Detailed. T rating come back to me

✨ For the questions you WON'T answer, did you have your own answers while making the game? Or were they left blank?

Some of them I do, some of them I don't!

✨ I loved this game and I want to replay it but I don't want Siffrin to go through everything again!

Here's a little fun fact I decided: if you hit the credits, you helped a Siffrin escape. If you start a new game, you are creating a new Siffrin that you can emotionally tortu-IIIIIIII MEAN, a new Siffrin that you can help. Do not worry about your Siffrins they are fine

✨ A lot of those answers ended up being "It's your turn", huh.

Yea <3 The answers to some of those questions ARE there if you look. Some just aren't. But you can imagine whatever you want. It's your turn! I finished the game! I'm done working! It's your turn!!!

✨ I loved ISAT and it made me feel so many feelings!

Thank you so much. I'm sorry if you sent a message or ask and I didn't answer it. I read every single one and cherish it! Thank you for playing and thank you for writing me a message!!!!! When I get a little down I look at all of those and I feel better. Thank you. I'm sorry I can't answer them all.

✨ What will you work on next?

I have a project I'm currently in the preproduction stages of. I don't want to talk about it until I feel like I have some stuff to show. Plus I still have to make the ISAT artbook and some other stuff, so it won't be for a while. Nonetheless, I hope you will enjoy it!!!

#in stars and time #in stars and time spoilers

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steddiealltheway · 1 year

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Steve is forced by his parents to go to a New Year’s work event where he knows no one. And before he goes, his mother gives him a rundown of the general rules of his behavior - including not eating or drinking anything there. She doesn’t want to risk him spilling anything on his expensive suit or embarrassing her with the way he eats.

So Steve goes to the event and is entirely miserable. His parents ditch him early on and he just wanders around the venue making brief small talk with some of his parents' coworkers. He sticks to his mother’s main topics - his age, lying about where he goes to college and what he’s studying, and the damn weather.

The food looks absolutely enticing, but it seems like every time he wants to sneak something off a platter the caterers are bringing around, his mother is watching him. So he adverts his eyes, keeping his gaze low but then his father comes by to whisper how he looks too submissive and not like a man, so he’s forced to straighten up.

Then he spots him, a caterer scowling as he attempts to balance a platter while blowing a strand of dark, curly hair out of his face. His hair is messily tied up in a bun he looks like he was forced to wear along with a suit he keeps pulling at. Steve has never felt like he’s related to someone more.

The man’s doe eyes land on Steve, catching him staring at him, and Steve quickly looks away and back towards his parents. To his surprise, they aren’t looking at him to mess up for once, too busy seemingly sucking up to someone “important.”

Steve takes the opportunity to glance back over at the man, but instead of finding him where he used to be, he’s steadily approaching him - platter of what looks to be fancy skewed meatballs in hand. Steve has never been more miserable by his mother’s rules - no eating and absolutely no talking to the caterers.

By now the man is in front of him, scowl gone and replaced with a soft smile as he offers him the platter. Steve politely shakes his head with a tight smile. The man frowns, and Steve wonders if he saw how intently he was eyeing the food before he declined. Nonetheless, the caterer continues on, even passing by his parents who both grab a skewer after the person who they’re talking to does.

Steve’s hands flex and he pinches his nose as he continues on, trying to push down the bubbling anger. He runs into a different couple and has the same damn conversation all over again before moving on to the next.

But then it happens again, the man with the messy bun and small dimples approaches him with a different platter - this time with smoked salmon. Steve politely refuses again, and the man’s frown tugs a little deeper.

For the next half hour, it’s as if the man is following him around, different platter each time - shrimp tartlets, deviled eggs, caprese salad kabobs, crab cake stuffed mushrooms, bacon-wrapped apricots, chocolate covered cheese, cheesecake bites…. All of which Steve politely refuses as the man frowns at him as if personally offended.

As the party drags on, Steve gets more and more bored and antsy. He just feels so shut in and hangry and he needs to get air. Whoever’s mansion they’re in has to have some type of balcony, so Steve wanders some more, spotting the staircase he’s passed several times, red rope making it off limits.

There’s a bit of commotion when the champagne tower comes out, and as everyone is distracted, Steve easily steps over the rope and sneaks up the stairs. When he’s hidden from sight, he lets out a sigh of relief and continues his search. He quickly finds a suspicious set of curtains on a wall, and he pulls them back.

Perfect. The doors are simple and white but to Steve’s surprise they slide apart. Dramatic. But it’s a balcony. He makes his way outside, closing the curtains and doors behind him before he takes in a breath of cold air. He feels better already.

There are two white chairs that look beautiful but incredibly uncomfortable, so Steve settles for sitting on the ground, putting his legs between the slats on the balcony railing, and glancing down at the large outdoor pool. Happy new year to him. He sighs.

The door behind him opens, and Steve whips his head around ready to be chewed out by his family or the owner.

“Shhh,” the server shushes him dramatically putting a finger to his mouth. He sets a platter filled with various finger foods down on the balcony table then closes the curtains and door behind him.

Steve stares unsure of what to do or say. His heart thuds in his chest. “So, here’s the thing,” the man says, “all night I’ve seen you practically drooling over this food, but every time you’ve refused it. At first, I thought maybe you were vegetarian, but then you refused the meatless options. Then I thought you might have some type of weird allergies, but then you refused the food that was specifically made for that. So, my question is, why are you not eating?”

Steve stares at him for a moment and finally replies, “My mother told me not to.”

The man's eyebrows pinch together. “Do you want food?”

“Desperately."

The man smiles brightly and dramatically gestures to the tray. “Voila!”

Steve glances at the tray with items stacked on top of each other because it seems like the other man ran out of space when making it. “That’s all for me?” Steve asks with the first smile of the day tugging at his lips.

The man picks up the platter and sets it next to Steve, sitting beside him. "I snuck a few bites for myself throughout the party, so yes." Steve laughs and immediately digs into the platter. "Good choice on the French rosemary chicken linguini," the man says.

Steve gives him a look while finishing chewing. "I thought this was steak."

"This is why they pay me not to speak," the man says with a cheeky grin. "I'm Eddie by the way."

"Steve," he replies, holding out his hand for Eddie to shake. Eddie grabs it and kisses the back of it. Steve laughs, "You're strange, you know that?"

"Absolutely," Eddie replies and leans in to bump his shoulder against Steve's.

They continue chatting, with Eddie spewing out some random name for whatever Steve is sampling. Every time it manages to make Steve laugh which in turn makes Eddie smile wider and scoot closer. And whenever Steve tries something he absolutely hates, Eddie will have part of the other half and either shame Steve for his horrible picky taste or break the food apart to toss through the slats to see who can get closer to getting their piece in the pool. Steve wins that game a lot.

When the food starts thinning out, Steve tells Eddie how he partially wishes the lies his mother told him to tell the others were true. How he wishes he was in college doing something instead of staying at home because he hadn't gotten into any college. Eddie tells him how he flunked out three times before he dropped out of high school. The catering job is just for the night as he samples around what he wans to do. Steve admires him for that.

They make plans as if they were going to run away together. Where they would go and what they would do if they could. Steve would teach kids and Eddie would play guitar for a living. As the night goes on, Steve is almost convinced that their dreams could maybe become a reality.

From the balcony, they can hear the distant cheers of a New Year's countdown. "Think we could do it this year?" Steve asks, countdown to eight.

"Run away together?" Eddie asks, countdown six.

"And make the life we want," Steve replies sincerely, countdown to four.

Eddie pauses and considers for a moment. "I would love to," he replies and leans forward, countdown to one.

Steve meets him in the middle and kisses him as if it this was possible and he could turn his dreams into a reality. He breaks away and whispers, "Happy New Year, Eddie."

"Happy New Year, Steve," Eddie replies smiling against his lips.

Steve kisses him again knowing his parents are going to be screaming at him later, but it won't matter when he's packing his bags for the New Year.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things

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professorcalculusstanaccount · 1 year

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he’s the adult supervision, he’s the voice of reason, he’s a cringefail king, it’s Captain Haddock! Quite a few people asked for a timeline post for Haddock after I posted one of Tintin.

I found the whole idea of the Haddock family curse to be very interesting, and the implications behind it to be pretty dark... cw for alcoholism and childhood abuse. Let me know if you need anything tagged.

To figure out the timeline the evidence for Haddock’s age I found was in an animated adaptation of Explorers on the Moon where Haddock mentions he has around forty years of sailing experience. I doubt he was running around on ships as a newborn so that places his age during the canon comics at around 60ish, give or take a few years, which in my timeline places his childhood during the late Victorian era!

Left to right, top to bottom:

Child - Archibald Haddock had a pretty rough childhood and family life. The legacy of the “Haddock family curse” weighs heavily on him, and so does the alcoholism that runs generationally. His father is often drunk, taking his anger and frustration out on Archibald. Fully believing the family curse, Archibald’s father drills the idea that he is destined for failure into his head.

Archibald’s only respite is his grandfather, who tells him stories of Sir Francis Haddock and other tall tales from the sea. His grandfather also would take him out on fishing trips, the lochs and the sea being his refuge.

Teenager - It’s the 1880s and Archibald is left aimless after his grandfather passes away, passing the time by hiding from his father and drinking during the day. He fully believes he has no real future and lets himself get swept up by whatever will come along next.

Young Adult - Archibald decides to follow in his grandfather’s footsteps and becomes a sailor, feeling at home at sea. He cleans up somewhat after befriending George Chester as the two train on the same merchant vessel. Chester drags a reluctant Archibald along into all kinds of crazy antics, with Archibald wanting to stay on the straight and narrow.

Archibald is drafted during the First World War, serving in the Grand Fleet. He is stationed at the Orkney and Shetland Islands with Chester.

Canon - After the war Archibald relapses on his addiction again, but is able to hold onto work in the merchant fleet. He eventually becomes a captain of a merchant vessel where his mental health issues are taken advantage of in the Crab with the Golden Claws.

Seeing his crew mutiny, kidnap (and attempt to murder) a boy on his ship was a major wake up call - Haddock is now imbued with a sense of responsibility for Tintin (even if Tintin seems to handle things better than Haddock!). He doesn’t understand what Tintin sees in him but he’ll be damned if he proves him wrong. He’s not above calling him an idiot when the time is right though.

Post Canon - After Tintin loses his job Haddock does his best to support him. He uses his wealth to further causes he believes in, donating money to artist collectives and scientific research that was repressed by fascist governments. Before Belgium even joins the Second World War he and the Marlinspike team proactively go out and foil various Nazi plots. Marlinspike Hall is firebombed by the Nazis in retaliation, but after the war Haddock funds various housing cooperative projects. Coming from a working class background he hasn’t forgotten the hardships a lot of people face.

Elderly - At this point Haddock is secure in his found family. He’s been living with his partner Ramo Nash, and has taken up various arts and crafts as hobbies. Looking back, he never expected to be a father, but is incredibly proud of Tintin. He never officially adopts him as a part of him still fears the family curse (plus they both agree “Haddock” as a name definitely does not suit Tintin)!

#fanart #tintin #adventures of tintin #captain haddock #archibald haddock #photoset #headcanon #historical fashion #alcohol #alcohol tw #abuse mention #nazism cw #death mention

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year

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Redamancy.

Yan Scaramouche x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes and unhealthy relationships. Word count: 1k.

“You scowl too much.”

If anyone else were to speak to Scaramouche, Sixth of the Eleven Fatui Harbinger in this way, they’d certainly be reduced to a pitiful pile of ash on the ground. Perhaps he’s thought about subjecting you to this fate, once or twice. That number could very well have been bumped up to three times if the indignant air he currently regards you with is to be considered.

Then again, no one aside from you would get to experience this deceptively domestic scene. You sit beneath a canopy, branches free from winter’s thaw hastily preparing buds to herald in spring. Scaramouche holds your thighs captive, the soft flesh serving as his pillow. Indigo locks splay out against and tickle your skin.

“There’s a lot to scowl about,” he replies, though he makes an effort to relax his tense facial muscles. The contemptuous smile he gives makes his previous expression look benevolent in comparison. “I’m stuck dealing with a fool of a woman who’d probably wander off a cliff because she was too busy admiring the clouds.”

“Clouds are meant to be admired.”

“Case in point.”

“You make it sound like I’m chained to you with iron shackles, though,” you raise your ankle (notably shackle free, imagine that), drawing his attention and ire. Your sarcasm never fails to rile him up. He never seriously tries to put a stop to it, however. Such is his capricious nature. “If I’m such a bother, why not let me wander off the cliff?”

Scaramouche grits his teeth. “Because…”

There’s a pause, then, weighty and tangible. You know what he both wants and fears to say. If he were any less of a coward, he’d fill the aromatic air with truth, rather than engaging in his usual sidestepping. He’s so proficient at the act you swear he could moonlight as a crab. This mental image earns a barely contained giggle from you, one that further sours his mood, if such a thing were possible.

Knowing you as intimately as he does, he correctly assumes that he’s the unwitting source of your amusement.

“I can’t stand you,” he grumbles. Whether it’s to you or himself, you can’t decide. “Truly, I can't.”

“Then hand me over to someone who can.”

There’s a flash in his eyes then — otherworldly, malicious — he disregards composure like a snake abandons shed skin. He rises in a flash. Inhumanly cold fingers take your chin captive, bringing you closer to him, his delight in the ease with which he can manhandle you evident. Always the type to go for grand gestures, this one. His theatrical outbursts befit his moniker.

Scaramouche grins, beset with an onslaught of bitterness akin to a black hole. It draws in and swallows anything unfortunate enough to be nearby.

“You just love testing my patience, don’t you?”

If you feared him, maybe you’d tremble, but you don’t, so you are still. It’s likely that you should fear him. He is volatile, a mess of contradictions too complicated to untangle, a vessel who fills himself with acrimony, the same way humans must with air. He delights in it and considers it his birthright.

Your smile is not without kindness and that’s what bothers him most.

“Come, don’t pout. I have no intentions of being complicit in whatever havoc you'd wreak if I was with another.”

His eye twitches at the pesky word ‘another’. The mere thought of this faceless, nonexistent being having the audacity to lay claim to you, even in the land of fantasy, has his nostrils flaring and jaw tightening. You can see the ripple of muscles beneath his synthetic skin. He’s a wonder, this proprietorial doll, who can exalt and condemn you in the same breath.

You are mine, and mine alone, his eyes seem to scream, and I’d sooner end the world than exist in it without having you for myself.

“You really do scowl too much,” you reiterate your opinion from earlier, gently, almost sweetly. Whatever spell Scaramouche was under temporarily breaks, or perhaps he’s held prisoner to a new one, far more agreeable if not equally dangerous. “Your face is too pretty to always be frowning.”

You enchant him by running your finger over his lower lip. It trembles by your command. His eyes go lidded, a lovelorn haze obscuring the former tempest. He can never decide if he wants to destroy or devour you. For someone like him, he can’t do one without the other. His love for you is a death sentence, despite the immortality that should’ve never belonged to your mortal body.

It’s you who kisses him.

He temporarily forgets himself. The arrogance, the hurt, the fear that you might slip between his fingers should he ever relax his hold. You find him foolish in that regard. He can have you in the palm of his hand if he likes, and you know he’d like that very much. There’s nowhere else for you to be. Not when he’s seen to the fact himself.

Scaramouche melts into your person, returning your kiss with rapture, drunk on the way you offer yourself to him. He makes a deep, breathy noise, willing you closer, demanding total subservience. You let him have his way. Civilizations could rise and fall in the seconds that follow, and he’d pay them no mind, too absorbed with savoring your temporary connection.

It is what he lives for; what he'd kill for.

His fair skin is flushed when you part. From the apple of his cheeks to the tip of his ears, he’s painted in a color from your palette. The pigmentation suits him. Red is the color around his eyes, of his longing for you, and of what would spill across the land should you ever part.

“There,” you whisper, as if it were a secret meant for him alone, “That look suits you far better.”

He wants to deny it — you can tell by how his grip tightens — but he remains uncharacteristically quiet. If he gets to delight in you, it’s only fair that you can occasionally delight in him, he supposes.

Such is your capricious nature.

#i wanna chew on him #yandere scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader #yandere genshin impact x raeder #yandere genshin impact x reader #scaramouche brainrot #genshin impact x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #reader insert #my stuff

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chiliyue-archived · 10 months

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Hiraeth

↬ he can't stop returning back to you

Includes; PM!Dazai

Entry; 💭 - thoughts not said outloud + ❛ i’m scared of ending up alone. ❜

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Dazai has been doing this far too often. And he knows it. Showing up to your living quarters rather than his storage container at the dead of night. Despite himself, it became a perpetual cycle that he had found to be powerless to break away from - acting as the puppeteer to his earthen desires that wilted with passing graces.

The crickets that usually filled his solitude came to increasingly accommodate you as a change. Unknowingly, you became a resurgence within his mind. And before he could even realize it, his legs had led him aimlessly back to you.

Pushing you away wasn't as easy as he thought - and the question if that was a good or bad thing hung in the silence.

Cotton Fingers peeled open the door, exposing his one eye to your slumbering figure. You were perched on the left side of the bed - it became a habit you acquired ever since Dazai has started to fancy your presence and found himself lying in that vacant spot beside you. However, he was never at the mercy of rest; his milky eye would gaze at the ceiling until rays of orange and gold leaked through the binds. That was always his sign of departure, leaving more weary and in search of an abstruse answer.

On the days he wasn't so hapless, his rest often came at the expense of nightmares; losing you to a power far greater than the demon prodigy. He couldn't really pinpoint when he became so attached to you.

Perhaps it was an accumulation of many things that gave sway to his blocked heart. The first time he let you dress his wounds, watching with catious eyes as you carefully nurtured him back to his second skin of gauze. Maybe it was in the way you didn't seem perturbed by the ugliness that was hidden beneath, punctuated by the soft feathery trailing of your fingertips against the molded scars.

Perhaps it was the kisses you pressed on his cheeks and creased forehead, bathing him in your attention devoid of the pain he was accustomed to. Not many escaped his touch unscathed, and yet yours was a drug he chased after incessantly.

Or maybe it was the first time the name 'Osamu' slipped from your lips in sincerity. Dazai almost hated the way he wanted to hear you say it again - to provoke that gentle tickle that became distinguished in his chest when he was with you.

But as much as he conjectured on the potiental answer, it had always remained to be an inquiry that probed the back of his head. Far too complex for even his great intellect, it was both vexing and equal parts a craving.

Dazai made work of shrugging off his coat, the article feeling unnecessary heavy on his taut shoulders. His shoes were already long abandoned, tossed in the genkan beside yours in a lax manner. He's done it so many times that it felt like second nature.

It was quickly followed by the pulling of his tie, the windsor knot becoming a peice of flimsy material and discarded on the small nearby table.

It was the same piece of furniture the two of you would cramp up together and eat cheap takeout or meals crafted by your hands. Regardless of the quality it was a change that filled up his stomach - unlike the cans of crab that littered his home acting as taunting reminders of his position.

He wordlessly slipped beside you, muscle memory coaxing him to curl around your body. His fingers instinctively took place in your hands. Limbs that were so accustomed to yielding instruments of death became fidgety against your own. His pinky mindlessly flexed around your joints, his thumb drawing out the contours.

For reasons he struggled to fathom, he couldn't quite bring himself to look at you. Not in a detested form of manner, but rather for the vulnerability that came if he risked a glance. To see you curled up beside him, dozing in your dreams and feeling secure even with the mafioso beside you. Selfishly, he pondered if you dreamed of him; perhaps immersed in an abstract reality far more promising than whatever this was.

" I'm back." His voice came out as a mumble despite knowing you couldn't hear him. Outloud, the words felt more like an indulgence to himself than anything.

His head leaned forward, his forehead making contact with your hair. The vacuous plaster of his lips remained; however, his eyes became glazed in a spur of intangible emotions. He chose to ignore the way his body hugged closer to you, legs sweeping over yours in a tangle of limbs. He didn't make an attempt to resist it either.

He allowed the silence to suspend the moment, nose nestling into the back of your head and absorbing your presence in silent fear of it being ephemeral. The weight of you being taken from him was always present, and he wasn't sure what he would do if that came into fruition. Just thinking of it rooted its probability deep within his mind and jutted a frown on his face.

Dazai felt his heart stutter when you habitually snuggled into him, light murmurs slipping from your lips. Even if your subconscious you gave him slices of your affection that made him gnaw in reproof yearning.

" Don't disappear on me, okay?" His voice was muffled against your skin, fingers weaving into your own properly.

Under normal circumstances he would have chastised himself for exhibiting such softness; cautioning himself to be more prudent even in your assuaging amity. But it felt terribly easy now to recite those words, even when doused in raw honest undertones.

" I'm scared of ending up alone." Again. He inwardly added, squeezing his eye shut. His voice was small, uncharacteristic of the teasing tone that laced his tongue. No snarky comment, flirty one-liners or fallacious words. He pressed a peck to the crown of your head as though sealing the daunting declaration with verdity.

He was unsure how much time passed but Dazai cradled close to you, whispering light phrases under breath, not yet prepared to voice them properly to you. Truthfully, he was addicted to you, and he briefly wondered what he did to find himself in this moment. Rummaging his mind did little to alleviate his pondering, but it did swarm his heart with an abnormal amass of warmth. A wistful expression would consume him the more he reflected upon your shared moments.

He wasn't some port mafia executive, he was Osamu Dazai in your embrace. And he selfishly desired for that not to change. For the sun to not rise just so he may soak in your attention with greed and rest his head against your shoulder. He wishes to hear your pulse in his ear, to remind him that you're very much real.

He almost can't stop the guilty grin that stretches on his cheeks when the familiar rhythm resonates in his ear. And contrary to the abode you provide him, it also makes his throat go dry and threaten to squeeze his breath away - unsure how long you will remain in his arms.

When you nuzzled your back into his chest, he couldn't help but squeeze your hands, his lips falling on that pulse point on your shoulder. Even if he wasn't able to sleep, his gaze inched closer to you, committing your small details to memory before flickering back to the ceiling. But more and more he came to immerse himself in your person both willingly and subconsciously.

He never meant to get attached, but maybe if it was you, it wouldn't be so bad.

Erm. I wrote this at 2am , idk if this even makes sense 💀

Event Taglist; @eynnwwyjth @himebwrries @seiiblue

If you wish to be added or removed, comment on this post !

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #dazai x reader #dazai fluff #i would say this is fluff.#dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai imagines #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #bsd x y/n #bsd x you #bsd x gender neutral reader #page from auroras notebook

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elizais · 5 months

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what he loves about you

what each boy loves about you includes: osamu dazai, chuuya nakahara, doppo kunikida, ryunosuke akutagawa warnings: being head over heels

osamu loves the way you can cheer up a room, walking into it and always looking at the brighter side. he loves the way you have no shame in what you do and do not like. he loves the way that you make him feel more human than anyone else. he loves the way you see someone's personality and make judgements for yourself, just like you done with him.

walking into the apartment, you saw osamu rummaging the cupboards for something to eat. "hello 'donna.." he said in his usual playful tone. he immediately stepped away from the cupboards and walked towards you. greeting you with a kiss. " 'samu" you responded with a smile. "how was girls night?" he quickly asked, pulling you away from the entryway and taking your coat off of your shoulders. "it was lovely." you answered with your usual cheery tone. "do you want some crab? i just took some out." osamu asked sarcastically, laughing at the way your face scrunched up at the thought of eating crab, knowing how much you can't stand the food. "i saw a new romcom film was released, it's loading up now for you" he said joyfully, making you feel all warm and fuzzy knowing how much you enjoy those films.

chuuya loves the way you bring light into his life, despite his line of work. he loves the way you could calm his temper and ease his mood. he loves how you giggle whenever he uses his ability to cheer you up in return, or when he lifts and twirls you around like a princess. he loves the way that money isn't your focus, and no matter how much he reassures you - expensive gifts are always hard to accept.

you were reading on the couch in his office, waiting for his duties to be over. you were told by some of his men that he was in a meeting that finishes in 15 minutes. you were so entranced by the novel that when you started floating is when you realised he had touched your shoulder. the sensation from flying always made you burst out giggling. slowly, he lowered you down before asking "what chapter are you on now?" as he leaned towards your book, still in your hands and getting your bookmark off of the couch for you. "chapter thirty" you shot a smile back. "looks like you will need to tell me everything that you read on the drive home, doll" he spoke to you softly as he done the same princess twirl that makes you fall for him all over again.

doppo had a strong list of ideals, the key word being had. he never believed in "love at first sight", until he found the girl that abolished the ideals list. he loves the way you are gentle and looks for the best in everyone. he loves the way you can counter his serious mood and has frequently caught himself letting a lot more a couple of dazai's shenanigans slip after seeing that he doesn't have to stick to his strong, serious demeanor.

all of the ada, aside from naomi and haruno, were at this restaurant after a tiring case you, kyouka, junichiro and kenji were talking whilst the others were in a separate conversation. you were in the middle of doppo and kyouka. your side of the table that you were talking to were invested in a conversation about a show you and junichiro had watched, trying to convince kyouka and kenji that they would like it. a young waitress came over with a badge on her blouse that said "i'm new here". she asked for dazai's, doppo's, fukuzawa's, yosano's, atsushi's and ranpo's orders. then, your side's. soon enough she came back, since you were such a big group she made two trips. then, you realised kyouka felt too shy to mention her order was incorrect. kindly, you spoke to the waitress and she came back. although it wasn't a big deal to you, the man next to you was never more enamoured of you.

ryunosuke loves you more than he lets on. he loves the way you are patient but also the way you stand up for yourself. especially if you work with him. he loves the way you understand when he isn't comfortable with affection yet. he loves the way you and gin are such good friends too. he loves the way you're concerned for his health even if it has caused some arguments.

ryunosuke was stood in the corner of the large room that you were planning the next mission for the black lizard. he couldn't hear exactly what you were saying, but he could see you concentrating on what you were saying as you stood over the table, leaning over your planning paperwork. you must have said something humorous as hirotsu and tachihara let out a chuckle as you smiled at gin. ryu knew how close you were with gin, and despite him and his sister not growing up normally, he was always grateful she had a friend like you. you didn't even know ryu was in the room but he was waiting to take you home and have dinner after a long, long day.

a/n: sorry they were short !! i'm trying to adapt to a few more characters!

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x reader #dazai osamu #port mafia #osamu dazai #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #akutagawa ryuunosuke #akutagawa x reader #akutagawa ryunosuke x reader #kunikida doppo #kunikida x reader #armed detective agency

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britcision · 10 months

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I’m pretty sure the people bitching about not giving money to tumblr are the same ones who complain when AO3 or wikipedia ask for donations, so I’m just gonna clarify something

Running a website is not free

Even if they made no changes and did only maintenance, they still need to pay for server costs, expert programmers for when something goes wrong, storage (although frankly storage is cheap as chips these days which is nice)

They need to keep up with the capabilities of new tech like improvements to web browsers, never mind their own apps keeping pace with old and new tech developments

Backwards compatibility (being able to run the updated app on old tech) is a massive problem for apps on a regular basis, because there are people out here using an iPod and refusing to update software

There’s a reason every few years apps like Animal Crossing will issue an update that breaks backwards compatibility and you can only play if your phone is running more recent software

This shit costs money even before you look into the costs of human moderation, which I’m not exactly convinced is a big part of their current budget but fucking should be if we want an actual fix for their issues with unscreened ads and reporting bigots

Ignoring that it’s apparently illegal for companies not to actively chase profits, running Tumblr is expensive

And advertisers know we fucking hate them here

They’re still running ads, which we know because they’re all over the damn place, but half the ads are for Tumblr and its store

Other ad companies know we are not a good market, so they’re not willing to put the money in

Tumblr runs at a $30 million deficit, every year, because hosting a site is expensive

They are trying to take money making ideas from other social medias because they’re not a charity; they need to make enough money to keep the site going

If you want tumblr to keep existing, never mind fixing its many issues that require human people to be paid to do jobs like moderation, they will need money

Crabs cost $3

One crab day a year can fix the deficit and hammer home for Tumblr that:

A) we do want to be here and want the site to keep going

And B) they do not need to do the normal social media money making strategies we all hate

They need a way to make money if you want the hellsite to exist, because we live in a capitalist hellscape and cannot all be AO3

If they think they can make enough to keep running without pulling all the tricks we hate, they have no reason to pull said tricks

But they need money

And a way to make money

And if we can show them we can do that, there is a significantly higher chance they will listen to us, the user base they need money from, than if we don’t

Tumblr isn’t perfect, or anywhere close. They need someone to actually screen the paid ads they put through, they need to take the transphobia, antisemitism, and bigotry seriously

These Are Jobs That Will Cost Money

People Need To Be Fucking Paid For Their Work

Tumblr Is Not Run By Volunteers For Free And Nor Should It Be

Paying People Is Good Actually

So if you wanna get all high and mighty over $3/year, by all means, go spend that hard earned cash elsewhere

Good luck finding a perfect and morally pure business to give it to though

Being a whiny negative asshole isn’t more appealing just because you’ve put yourself on a moral soapbox, it just means the asshole is a little higher up

For all the whining about “all the new updates are terrible this site is unusable”…. It’s one fuck of a lot more usable than it was in 2017, 2018, 2020

And yeah, it’s going back down and most of the newer ones have been fucking annoying and I would also like them to stop

But it got up somehow and that means it could do that again

Hope is more fun than edgy nihilism

August 1st is a good and exciting day to summon a crab army

#tumblr #crab day #fuck if i know what a profitable plan for tumblr as is will look like #since half the user base are entitled assholes who think they shouldn’t pay for less than perfection #and tumblr themselves are entitled assholes who think $5/month is a good base proce #motherfuckers would have so many more people if it was $2-3 #totally not paying $5/month for this shit #but $3/year? yeah that’s okay

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fallow-hollow · 1 month

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take you home

…ft! chilchuck tims x male! half-foot! reader

…tags! fluff, pining, confession, dates, mentions of drinking, post-canon

…word count! 1346

…notes! i fully agree with the fandom consensus that chilchuck is a closeted bisexual

Chilchuck was a pretty prominent union leader on the island, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that he’d do the same when he moves back to Kahka Brud to set up shop.

If you’re a half foot in the area, especially one looking for work, it’s pretty much impossible not to know Chilchuck.

No matter your field, he’s a great guy to go to for making connections and financial advice in general.

The first time you talked to him was about negotiating for a contract with a potential employer, but honestly, you’d always sort of admired him from afar. Hard working, sharp-witted, not to mention good looking.

“What?!” You nearly jumped at the man’s exasperated shout, being that he was fairly close to your ear. Chilchuck agreed to help you take a look at one of the contracts you’ve been offered, so you were currently letting him take a look at a copy. This, of course, led to the man peering over your shoulder, which didn’t help your absolutely hopeless crush on him. Not that you were complaining, though.

To make it even worse, he even rested his elbow right on your shoulder to point something out on the paper. “They don’t even include consequential damages litigation here! No way are you going to be tricked into being liable for their lost profits!”

Not turning your head due to your own embarrassment, you merely looked at him in your peripheral vision. “So, what do you think I should do?”

“Wellll….” As he deliberated on your question, the man leaned away from you, allowing you to turn your body towards him more. “If you’re dead set on working with this employer, I’d say negotiate as much as you can. On your own, you can get brushed off easily, but if you need…” he wore a smug grin whilst rubbing under his nose with his index finger. “I can put in a good word for you.”

And if you’re a half-foot, the guy is most likely taller than you. It’s noted that if the entire canon party were half-foots, he’d be taller than even Laios.

By this point in the timeline, I also imagine he’s patched things up with his family, but not in a romantic relationship with his ex-wife anymore. They’re friendly and see each other regularly, and she and his daughters even tease him about putting himself out there again.

From conversations you’ve had with him, you’re more than aware he’s been married before and has kids, and that doesn’t deter you from seeking a relationship with him at all. In fact, if you ever meet his daughters, you’ll likely get along well if you’re as amiable with them as you are with their father.

“I like him,” Puckpatti would declare the moment you left the room. “He seems sweet! You definitely need somebody like that to coax you out of your whole crab apple act, Papa.”

“It’s not like that!” He would instantly retort, causing his two more outgoing daughters to giggle. Even Meijack, albeit not as boisterous as her sisters, had a hint of an amused look on her face.

“Yet.” Flertom winked. “If you ever need some tips to speed up the process, you really shouldn’t be afraid to ask!”

The mere offer turned the man into a stuttering mess. “Stop that or I’ll— I’ll tell your mother!”

For a moment, Meijack’s eyes flitted to her father’s face before retreating back to the side. “She already told us she knew you swung that way.”

Chilchuck would’ve downright screamed if not for your return. “Hey guys, what’d I miss?” He dared not turn around, lest you notice how flushed he’d become in mere minutes.

Puckpatti, with a look so innocent that you could hardly believe she was tormenting her father just moments before, clapped her hands together and grinned. “No, you came at just the right time! I wanted to ask more about how you and Papa met!”

Chilchuck has never dated another guy before, so he doesn’t have a lot of experience in that field. Honestly, since his wife and he were childhood friends, I’m not sure if he’s dated anybody else at all. Most of the guys he knew well were coworkers, drinking buddies, or both, so emotional connection wasn’t always a priority.

Your friendly attitude and respect for his craft already drew him in, plus your little acts of affection drove him absolutely crazy. Give him a hug as a greeting and he’s doing everything he can to resist melting. Could a person really be this sweet with no ulterior motive? Someone like you has got to be even rarer than even the most valuable treasures.

More likely than not, you’d be the one to actually ask him out. You may need to repeat yourself when you ask him, though, cause the man might just die of shock.

Holding up the poster for the ‘couple’s night’ at the bar you frequented together was a bit of a nerve wracking experience, if you were being honest. Watching the other man’s eyes squint and scan over the text, you grinned and asked,

“Would you want to go together?”

For a moment, Chilchuck didn’t really know what to make of your request. You asking him to go out for drinks with him was a totally normal thing between you two, but why were you showing him that ad? After a minute or so of trying and failing to make the proper connection, he grinned and nodded like he’d figured it out.

“Ahhh, so you’re one of those people that’ll pretend to be a couple with their friend to get discounted drinks? Not really a thing I do, but since it’s you, I’ll consider it.”

Hey, why did you look so dejected when he said that? That’s what you meant, right?

Right?

“No, I meant…..” your eyes left his face in favor of lingering on the floor. Those words combined with your expression finally made it all slide into place, and the poor man could only blurt out with a feeling of intense guilt,

“Oh, oh, I’m so so sorry, I didn’t know you were asking—!”

You did end up going together that night, and it was pretty fun, too.

As a partner, Chilchuck is focused on providing stability. As much as he can act like a sleaze sometimes, he doesn’t seem like he does a lot of casual dating. He’d probably feel too old for that kind of thing either way.

When you’ve been together for a while, he may even offer to share finances and move in together. He says it would be “economical” and all, but you can also tell he clearly wants to be with you daily, and that makes you happy.

Protective as all hell. When he gets a little tipsy, he may get snappy with anyone he even thinks is looking at you the wrong way.

“Hey!” From beside you, you heard your lover’s voice slur. “You got a problem with my man?”

A sigh escaped your lips. “Chilchuck, he’s just collecting the empty glasses.”

Your words must not have either not reached him or not even affected him, because he continued to glare up at the waiter with a hazy, unfounded suspicion that truly only a drunk Chilchuck could possess.

A hand on his waist pulling him into your collar made quick work of sating him, a smile gracing your lips when he groaned into the fabric of your shirt. “We’ll leave soon, okay hon? Soon we can go home.”

Briefly, his half lidded eyes opened wider if only to look up at your face as if you were an illusion, something too good to be true.

“I get to take a pretty thing like you home with me….?”

Lord, for such a serious person, he really could make you laugh sometimes. It was probably just the lighting, but you hoped that the redness of his face really did intensify at your smile as you gazed down at him.

“You can every single night, Chil. Always.”

#ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ fallow’s works!#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #chilchuck tims #chilchuck tims x reader

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two-white-butterflies · 2 years

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you taste like wine | daemon targaryen x reader

Description: Daemon Targaryen was as unpredictable as the wind — his love built cities and his wrath destroyed them. Y/N just learnt to accept the fact that there was both good and bad in him. After all, he’d never harm her — he’d never harm his love, his fantasy and his truth.

Everyone always said that the women in House Tyrell were the thorns — and the men were the roses. Daemon agreed with them — for Y/N Tyrell was all thorn and no rose, she was sharp, manipulative and twice as ambitious. In all truths, Daemon was afraid of Y/N, that’s why he agreed to marry her.

He’s heard whispers of her, how people said that she was a great beauty — a charming little dove. But Daemon knows exactly what kind of person she was. A snake like all of those in Kingslanding that seek to manipulate his brother.

He sees the way her eyes glimmer — how her face glows when she gets what she wants. She was cunning, he had to give that to her. But even she was no match to the Rogue Prince.

“Why is it that you’re always frowning?” she enters his chambers to see him sitting motionlessly in one of the leather chairs. Daemon smirks and stares at her, she was truly beautiful and unmarred by the years.

He stands up, reaching the same height as her. “Frowning? I beg to disagree” he replies while she rolls her eyes. Y/N couldn’t stand him, but only because he was the only one immune to her charms. “Don’t act innocent now, you’re always frowning when I’m around” she chuckles while sitting down on the chair he was previously sitting on.

He turns to look at her, following her with his sharp gaze. “Why would I frown in front of such a beautiful woman?” he jokes while she scoffs. “If I’m such a beauty, why is it that we haven’t had any children yet? Surely, a man like you wouldn’t be able to keep his hands away from me” she states the obvious while he smirks again.

“Maybe that’s the reason I’m frowning all the time, I can’t seem to get my hands on you” he flirts and she rolls her eyes. He was talking shite again. She hardly doubts that he lusts after her — when all he does every day is complain about her existence.

But it was alright, she supposes. After all their children would be nobodies — just Targaryens who had the title “Prince” or “Princess” none of them would ever sit on the throne. It was all useless really — and being his wife was just sad. She should’ve just married one of The Starks or The Harrenhals.

He senses her silence and he scoffs, “What? Don’t believe me?” he interrogates while taking a step towards her. She chuckles loudly — as if she was mocking him. “Please, Daemon — it’s too early for jests” she mocks while he rolls his eyes. He places both his hands on her shoulders, staring ferociously at her (E/C) doe eyes.

“Fucking you would be easy — loving you however?” he spat and she was able to smell his breath — it stunk of ale and wine, he was most definitely drunk. She shoves his hands away from her and he chuckles bitterly, “This behavior is for your whores in Silk Street, not your wife” she scolds while he presses his lips on her.

She melts into his kiss as he slowly pulls away. “And if you were asking me, I’d say that you fancied me too, wife” he smirks.

----

Daemon was always called for war, his brother King Viserys left him for himself to fight the Crab War. The tensions at court have only soared higher, with the birth of Aegon (Alicent’s son) and the birth of Aemon (Daemon and Y/N’s son.)

Everyone seeked to replace Rhaenyra, they favored her younger brother most. Y/N knew that Rhaenyra was more than capable to be queen, but she wasn’t born a man — and to others, it may mean that she would never be enough.

She finishes braiding the Princess’ hair as Aemon coos from the princess’ grasp. “He always know its you” Rhaenyra states while Y/N chuckles. Aemon always loved being at his mother’s side, but she knew that he’d love his father much more.

“I bet he misses his father” she whispers while taking him from his cousin’s hands. “My father should end that war for the better, I fear that the Hightowers have something to do with it” Rhaenyra hushes while Y/N glares at her.

The Hightowers had spies everywhere, “Lower your voice, my princess” she warns while Rhaenyra sighs. She adored Lady Y/N, though sometimes she wishes that her father married her instead. Lady Y/N was made for court — even when she sounds mean, it always comes across as polite.

Rhaenyra knew one thing for sure; she liked Y/N more than Alicent. “I don’t want to be here at court anymore, my lady. You should come with me to Dragonstone — it is much safer there” she offers while Y/N declines her.

“Rhaenyra, I’ve told you about this. Leaving your position at court will only give our enemies more leverage” she explains while Rhaenyra frowns. “Our?” she asks and Y/N nods. “We are the Blacks are we not — but most of all, we are women. Our strength is not given, it is forged” she places a hand on the princess’ shoulders.

----

“You mean to tell me that you won a war purely out of hate?” she exasperates as he nods his head and removes his armor. His ego felt bruised after his brother’s letter, thus he decided to end the war once and for all. Her frown deepens, “And where was all of this hate, two years ago?” she questions and he freezes.

He was scared of her anger — but he was afraid of her love. Her love that could kill him after she realizes he could’ve been home sooner. “I wish to rephrase my previous statement” he pauses and she chuckles. “Ah, you wish to get out of trouble!” she hits him lightly.

“You rascal — do you have any idea how much I worried about you” she hits him again and this time a chuckle escapes from his lips. Her frown goes deeper, “What are you laughing at?” she hits him for the third time as he wraps his arms around her, trapping her in his warm embrace.

“My thorn — I did not win this war out of hate” he explains and she rolls your eyes. “Uhuh, you better explain” she crosses her arms while he presses a kiss on the top of her head. “I won the war out of love — and also because I haven’t made love in two years” he finishes his statement with a joke as she tries her best to not laugh — she was still mad at him.

“And maybe I can make it up to you? If you know what I mean” he winks at her while she rolls her eyes and walks away. “Idiot” she mutters.

pt. 2

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #house tyrell

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goldsainz · 2 years

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MASTERLIST.

A/N: after the last episode i knew i had to write something about it, or even slightly related to it because IT WAS AN AMAZING EPISODE!! also this is is angstyyyy, there’s not much comfort really, just right person wrong time type of beat [gif cred: @alicenthightcwer]

WORD COUNT: 1,8k

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CHOICES

You wished you could say that after the three years he had gone away, you had forgotten all about the Rogue Prince, but that just wasn’t the case. You heart yearned for his warm touch, and the sleepless nights in which you preferred staying awake than losing time together in favour of some sleep.

Daemon Targaryen was everything to you, you hoped he thought the same. You were almost certain he did, the longing looks he threw your way did not go unnoticed.

You were no longer the young girl Daemon had once met, you’d seen each other grow up and form into your own people. You had to watch with a lump in your throat as Daemon fucked around with people who meant nothing, people who would never get to know him, not like you did anway.

In those three years in which he was away, the prospect of getting married was all too familiar to you. Your father wanted to marry you off to Harwin Strong, it would be proper, noble of you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be happy about the notice. Yet there was a part of you that knew your life would be much safer in the hands of your future husband, than it really ever would be with Daemon.

There were numerous things you’d rather do than stand in the throne room, receiving news that probably meant so little to you.

As you walked down the halls, accompanied by your father, you couldn’t help but overhear some rumours as to what the King had to announce. Some whispered he was naming Aegon II his heir, others that Alicent was yet again pregnant, but the one that stuck out to you was that Daemon was back. The whispers of Caraxes landing today with his rider made you uneasy.

Could it be? Could Daemon truly be back?

You stood amongst a crowd of people, awaiting the King, and whatever news he bore. His crown was at the top of his head, sword in hand, his attention fully on the doors, or rather who hadn’t yet come through them.

Suddenly steps could be heard, the hard clink of an armour filled your ears.

Finally Daemon stepped through the doors, a “crown” above his head while he held a sword. If you didn’t know who your King was, you would not have doubted it if someone said the Prince was him.

You stood frozen in her place for a while, but slowly started to follow his movements. He paid no mind to his surroundings, only looking forward to his brother.

When he finally reached the throne, the guards sethed their swords, one of them placed right on his chest. Daemon moved his hand, placing the sword in an offering motion.

“Add it to the chair.” Were the first thing she had heard from Daemon in three years, the noise of the sword falling on the ground was white noise for her ears.

The crowd whispered, but you remained speechless. He always had that effect on you, but right now you just didn’t know how to feel, how to act. You didn’t know how to ever speak to him again, not with the things that would inevitably spill from her mouth if she were to open it.

The two brothers were speaking, Daemon kneeled while the King watched him intently. Your train of thoughts had made you space out for far too long, but you still managed to catch onto the conversation.

“My crown, and Stepstones are yours.” The King had a small smile on his face, though it was evident it bore intrigue.

“Well, where is Lord Corlys?”

“He sailed home, to driftmark.”

“Who holds the Stepstones?”

“The tides, the crabs, and two thousand dead Triarchy corsairs. Staked to the sand to warn those who might follow.” After his words, Viserys started to walk towards Daemon, and you held your breath, fearing the worst. Even if your King was kinder than most before him, the Prince had still done things many would have no mercy while judging.

“Rise.” You let out the breath you were holding when Daemon placed his head on the King’s shoulder, clapping slightly alongside the crowd. “The realm owes you a great debt, brother. Come.”

Everyone slowly left the room, following their King, and you did so too. Though you hoped you would get even the slightest of moments with Daemon, you truly dreaded the idea of having to speak to him.

━━━━━━

“Why are you ignoring me, Y/N?” A voice boomed from behind you, the pastry you were eating, now made you slightly choke.

“I’m not, my Prince.” You responded, slightly defensive from his words.

“Drop the formalities, we’ve known each other for long enough.” He sounded amused, but you were far from being in the same mood.

“Yeah, and then you left for three years…” You mutter under your breath, making him tilt his head.

“Pardon?” Daemon sounded almost offended, like he couldn’t understand why you would say that, as if he hadn’t whispered more times than you could count how you would run away together. Only to ultimately have left without you.

“I said nothing, my Prince.” You continued to use his title, slightly enjoying the annoyance that coursed through his body. You tried to leave, only to have your arm grabbed by him.

“Stop this game,” He told you, his violet eyes looking like flames rippling with conflicted emotions, “I missed you.” He whispered softly, almost making you falter, but you knew he could do better than that.

You said nothing as you walked away, his hand falling off your arm. His touch seemed to burn you, like it was too much for your own body to bear. Something that had never happened before, you wondered if it had been too long without it that your own body repelled even the slightest of touches.

You quickly made your way to your chambers, grabbing your dress so moving was easier. You knew some people stared as you practically zoomed by them, but you could not be bothered, when all you wanted was to wash your skin. You were betrothed, it was improper for you to be touched by anyone who wasn’t family, much less the Prince whose infamous reputation was hard to forget.

You threw yourself onto your bed the moment that your maid had been called to run you a bath. Now all you had to do was relax, and definitely not think about Daemon Targaryen.

You heard a knock on your door, and blindly assumed it was your maid.

“Come in!” You exclaimed, pulling yourself off your bed, preparing to take some of your clothes off. Except that who came through the door was not your maid, but rather the one person you did not wish to see.

He smirked at the looser hold on your dress, making you roll your eyes.

“Daemon, get out.” You gritted through your teeth, going straight at him to kick him out.

“Is this how you treat your Prince?” He said, ignoring your demand.

“I’m serious, get out. Someone could see.” If anyone saw the state of your clothing - the state of a betrothed woman - it would be a scandal. No matter if the Prince was involved, no one would want you if people believed you were no longer a maiden.

“How terrible that would be.” He mocked, getting closer to you, closing the door behind him.

“”It would be, yes.” You admit, annoyed at his light behaviour, acting as if he hadn’t abonded you. “Some of us don’t have the luck to be royalty, we can’t all damn the consequences of our actions.”

“If you married me you would be free, you could be whoever your heart desired.” You scoffed at his audacity, he disappeared for years and yet again made empty promises.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not.”

“Daemon, you left for three years. I had no notice of what you were doing for months, you left with some whore I presume you don’t even know where she is now, and you expect me to believe you want to marry at all?” There were some tears gathering in your eyes, but you refused to let him see you cry.

“I came back, didn’t I?” He stepped forward, and as much as you wanted to step back, you couldn’t.

“You can’t just come and go whenever you want to! You don’t get to say you want me so deeply, and then leave me stranded as if I mean nothing to you.”

“You mean everything to me, Y/N.” He murmured, cupping your face in his hands. You turned away, not looking at his eyes.

“You’re too late for those confessions.” You say after moments in silence, finally looking at him.

“What?”

“I’m to be married, Daemon.” You finally speak the truth, the truth that had been haunting you. You saw his eyebrows furrow, the crease on his forehead, some hairs shaking with his head. “Ser Harwin Strong offered his hand, and my father thought him to be the worthiest suitor.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“By the next full moon we’ll be married-”

“Stop…” Daemon cut you off, whispering words that were meant to bring comfort to his own thoughts.

“He’s kind, Daemon. He kisses my cheek when he sees me, wishes me goodnight, tells me where he’s going when he has to leave…” Yiou knew you were being harsh, but Daemon had to get your picture, he couldn’t walk over your feelings. Not this time.

“Don’t marry him, Y/N.” He pleaded, it felt strange to have a Targaryen plead for something like this.

“You know I have no choice in that.” You whisper sadly.

“Then I’ll fight for your hand.”

“And then what? You marry me, and then what? What will my life be like if my husband does as he pleases, when he pleases?”

“It won’t be like that, I promise you.” You wished you believed him. He looked so honest, and a part of you knew he could be true to his word, but you also knew his word wavered when he didn’t find it appealing anymore.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Daemon.”

“I swear, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, Daemon, but we’re no longer kids. Marriage is all I have, all I can truly have, I won’t risk my whole life on the idea that you won’t mess it all up.”

You both stayed silent. As Daemon rested his forehead against yours, you relished in the small comfort of his steady breathing. Your lips brushed, and if you had been the girl Daemon knew years ago, you would've kissed him. BUt you couldn’t.

“Please leave, that’s all I ask.”

You watched defeat cross his eyes as he pulled away from you. All you could do was watch him leave. He didn’t turn back, you weren’t sure if him turning back would’ve been better, but regardless this was your choice. You had made your bed and now had to lie on it.

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damn-stark · 1 year

Text

Chapter 1 Golden girl

Chapter 1 of Moonlight

A/N- The parallels between young Rhaenyra and y/n!! The parallels between young Rhaenyra and y/n!! Anyway, I really hope you guys like this new series. I'm really excited to share it with all of you!

Warning- Swearing, Aegon, FLUFF, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon-Targaryen!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon-Targaryen!fem-reader

Episode- 1x06

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

A lot of stuff is often restricted to you, like training with swords, sparring, strolling too far alone, and flying far and wide on dragonback. You’re often told what you can’t do and what you can do. You’re told how to behave. And the pressure is never as hard on the boys as it is on you. That’s why you find simple pleasures, and oftentimes they’re secret…at least until your mother figures it out.

Like now, for example, you’re told you can’t swim in the ocean without supervision, but you’re old, and you’re a stronger swimmer. You have confidence in yourself so you dive in the gleaming blue waters and swim blissfully.

You don’t swim too far down, but you swim deep enough to watch in awe as a school of fishes find themselves swimming around you.

You smile at the crabs that crawl away into hiding, you find comfort in the ocean waters embrace, and find yourself tempted when you spot a small spiked shell on the ocean floor.

You don’t know if you should keep your dragon worried and swim down to collect it or swim up to finally leave…

Hm.

Well your grandfather does like to keep what you collect, and you don’t find the necessity to catch your breath yet, so with some strong kicks, you swim down and snatch the shell.

After you secured it you finally decide to swim up to the surface, noticing your dragon halfway in the water as she anticipated your arrival.

“Relax,” you reassure her as you show off the shell. “I wasn’t gone long.”

You admire the shell now that you’re standing on firm sand and can’t help but smile as you admire all the delicate designs.

So intricate and amazing. How can something so small be made?

Your grandfather will be pleased.

“Come on,” you tell your dragon watching you carefully. “Let’s go to mother.”

First, though you dry yourself and shimmy on your dress you had taken off so it wouldn’t get wet. Your hair will—well it’ll dry enough when you’re in the air, so you leave it and quickly climb on your dragon, finding more peace in the calm sky on the back of your beautiful soulmate.

It’s really just perfect, that’s how you’d describe this moment, soaring the white fluffy clouds hundreds of feet off the ground. The chilly breeze sweeping past you with all its might, and the bright shining sun kissing your skin with its warm rays of light.

If you had the choice to just fly all your life without consequence it’s something you’d take it. No royal duties, no man to marry, just your dragon; Astraea, and you flying around the world. That’d be truly perfect.

Alas, much to your misfortune you have to get your head out of the clouds and descend back down to the ground. You have to hop off your dragons back and face life, and responsibilities.

“Princess,” one of your handmaidens interjects at the exact moment your feet hit the ground. “Your mother has given birth.”

You immediately grin with glee and don’t fret to approach the handmaiden whilst you take off your glove from the top of the fingertips with your teeth. “What is it?” You ask in a muffled voice.

“A boy,” the Handmaiden shares.

Another brother…tsk.

Well, he’s here now so there’s no use being upset by not having a sister. Yet again.

“What excellent news,” you rejoice, and peer back at your dragon with a soft smile

Astraea looks back at the same time so you meet her gaze and can’t help but only grin wider as you catch how the sunlight bounces off her purple scales.

Yet the joy is short-lived because you then hear your name uttered by an annoying individual. “Sweetling,” he purrs.

You sigh and roll your eyes to look at the boy, catching your uncle Aegon approaching the dragonpit with a stupid grin on his face.

“I hope your flight was a pleasant one,” he says as he keeps approaching you.

You feign a smile and nod. “It was,” you deadpan and quickly escape to your carriage that’s going to take you home. But first, you greet your other uncle. “Hello, Aemond.”

Unlike Aegon, Aemond isn’t much older than you, he just beats you by a year. And! He, unlike Aegon, is much nicer and respectful, making him your favorite.

“Hello,” Aemond greets you back with a shy wave.

You shoot him a genuine smile and then stop in your tracks to add, “you know, Astraea is almost big enough to saddle two. Perhaps when she is at the right size and you have yet to find a dragon, you can ride with me.”

Aegon scoffs beside his younger brother, but Aemond straightens up and lets his gaze linger before he sighs and responds. “We’ll see.”

You grin and nod. “We will. Now excuse me, I have to see my mother.” You take your first step up to your carriage, but Aegon takes his chance to cut in again.

“Perhaps later we can take a stroll around the gardens? Find ourselves down by the—”

“No Aegon,” you cut him off without shame and don’t even bother to look at him, you just walk into your carriage and slam the door shut.

Thereafter the carriage is ridden through the grande city that is your home, past buildings getting constructed, past workers, and people wandering the dirt streets. You pass visitors strolling through the streets, you pass by different shops that contain some of the same things or completely different things. You pass families that make you wonder what it would be like if you were like one of them, a civilian worried just about living, someone who does not need to question why it is that your younger brother Jacaerys gets to be your mother's heir and not you, her eldest child.

Is it really because you’re a woman? She is one too and she still is going to ascend the throne after your grandfather.

Your father says it’s because your mother doesn’t want to burden you with what she’s forced to now carry. But you don’t really believe it, who knows the truth as to why she didn’t choose you.

Because you’re simply not her favorite? Because you don’t look like your brothers? Because you don’t have brown hair like them, or white skin like theirs because yours more so matches your father's? Because your hair is white like his? And hers?

Why is what you ask yourself all the time.

Sometimes…you wish you would’ve been born a bastard, maybe then you would have inherited the throne.

Regardless, you never ask her, nor will you ever do so.

You never let her see your affliction either, you push it back, always. Like now for example, before you go see her you change out of your riding clothes and wear a lilac-colored gown; with that new change, pushing all your concerns away and putting on a smile that she likes to see on you before knocking on her door.

“Come in,” you hear her voice welcome you in.

You open the door and slowly poke your head inside, catching Ser Harwin inside handing the little newborn babe to your mother.

“Ah, my sweet,” your mother greets and immediately finds the difference in your hair. Yet she doesn’t comment on anything yet. She lets you beam at her and make a beeline toward her now holding the babe on the couch.

“Princess,” you hear Ser Harwin greet from behind you.

You pull your eyes away from the sleeping baby and throw him a mindless greeting. “Hello, Ser Harwin.” You then quickly focus back on your brother and greet him softly. “Hello, you.”

Your mother smiles softly and then looks up at you. “My sweet, meet your brother, Joffrey.”

What an unusual name for him, but he does look like a Joffrey, so you don’t question it.

“You wish to hold him?” She asks you.

You meet her gaze and nod before you reach over so she won’t strain herself, and carefully cradle him in your arms. “Hi,” you greet him again, this time in a softer voice. “I’m your sister.” You giggle softly and look over at your mother. “He’s so adorable and so small.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “Smallest one out of your brothers, and you.”

You hum and shift around slowly, but keep your eyes on him, noticing the small brown hairs on his head. You then steal a glance up at the bulky knight watching you sway the babe and take note that Joffrey also inherited his features…making it another secret to keep.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” Ser Harwin interjects.

You keep quiet and hear your mother simply hum in response before he walks out of the room, leaving your mother, Joffrey, and you alone.

“Do you need anything mother?” You ask her and meet her gaze. “More water? Food? A pillow?”

Your mother shakes her head. “No, I’m quite content right now. Thank you.”

You take this time now to slowly sit down beside her and make sure to keep swaying the babe so he won't wake.

“You stink of dragon, and salt,” your mother points out. “I thought I told you that you couldn’t go swimming so far. No one can see you from so far.”

You pass her an assuring look and rebuttal. “Astraea is watching me.”

Your mother sighs deeply and shakes her head. “She may not be able to do anything if you drown in deep waters. I won’t be able to do anything if you drown so far away. The currents are strong.”

You bat your lashes so you can get your way. “But grandfather says some of the oldest things lie in the ocean. I just want to see.” You smile at her innocently. And since your mother doesn't have the energy to keep arguing she points out something else.

“I assume you were out flying as well?”

“Yes, but I finished my teachings early so I had time,” you immediately explain to her.

Your mother hums. “Well I hope so, the Septa always likes to complain that you never pay attention.”

You roll your eyes and meet hers. “Well maybe if she didn’t talk so slowly then I’d actually enjoy what she has to teach,” you counter, making your mother laugh.

“Yes, her voice is quite irritating, but I just want you to pay attention to your teachings, okay?” She says.

You let out a soft sigh and nod in agreement. “I’ll try, but if Astraea needs me I simply cannot refuse her.” You look back at your sleeping baby brother and feel your smile soften. “I cannot wait to have a babe of my own.”

“Really?” Your mother questions. “When I was your age all I wanted to do was fly, be with my friends, and dream. I hated the thought of having children.”

You smile as your interest piques and can't help but meet your mother's soft gaze. “Really?” You probe excitedly.

Your mother nods. “Yes, but that all changed when I found out I was having you,” she adds and gently nudges your arm.

You mirror her smile and turn to hand her back the babe so you can be on your feet once more. “Well, I do still want to fly around the world. That would be great,” you tell her and walk around her to stop behind her. “Discover new places. See new waters. Different people.” You draw out a soft breath and pick up her long silver-gold hair to begin braiding it in the way Queen Visenya would wear hers.

“That sounds nice,” your mother goes along with your silly dream. “Perhaps you’ll be like Princess Nymeria.”

The corner of your lips pull to a smirk.

“Yet,” your mother adds on. “How can you voyage the world without finishing any of your teachings? A sailor needs knowledge to read maps for example.”

You roll your eyes and feign a laugh. “Oh haha. Well, I can be like a pirate, or I could travel with my father and have him do all the work.”

Your mother chuckles and nods in agreement. “I bet he would like the idea of being out at sea.”

You hum softly, and then pause after you knit a strand of her hair with the other as you fall serious. “But really, what will I do? I mean…what will be of my life? Queen Alicent says I’m almost at the right age to be married off. Will I have to leave you and be matched to some pampered Lord who just locks me away?”

A deep breath escapes your mother as if ready with a response, but she remains quiet for a moment before she pats the empty space you had sat on before.

You, of course, don’t hesitate and let her hair fall on her back before you take the seat beside her once again.

“I know what it is to want to just hop on your dragon and fly off,” she begins to say whilst she shifts in her seat to try and be closer to you. “I understand what you feel. It’s normal to feel so, but I’ll tell you now something your grandmother Aemma told me when I was young.” She manages to cup your cheek, causing you to draw out a soft breath. “We have royal wombs you and I, my sweet, it is how we serve the realm.” She then presses her forehead against yours, making you smile softly and find comfort in her gesture.

“Besides, you are my daughter,” she adds with a growing smug smile. “You descend from the greatest line, you are the granddaughter of one of the greatest voyagers. I assure you that you won’t sit and do nothing, I promise.”

You mirror her smug smile and with all the trust in the world, you nod in comprehension.

“And,” she continues. “With luck, you won’t be sent far at all.”

You pull back and look at her with a pointed glare. “I don’t want to marry Aegon. I’d rather be sent to the wall than be married to him.”

Your mother chuckles and shakes her head. “Gods no,” she assures you, letting you let out a relieved sigh and lay your head on her shoulder.

“Someone else,” she gives your heart comfort. “I’ll find a match who deserves you, don’t worry,” she whispers and lays her head on yours. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll make sure you have a good life.”

——

*LATER*

Most nights, when rain doesn’t fall from the sky, when the clouds don’t cover the stars you like to sneak out of bed and climb up castle towers to watch the stars with the desire for more.

You like to feel the wind and pretend you’re far away, somewhere lost in the sky, or somewhere in the ocean. You like to breathe in the fresh air that hits the towers and watch those few people below walk the streets or just the simple castle grounds. There are some nights when Aemond joins you, not a lot, but it is always him and no one else.

And it seems that tonight is one of those nights.

“Aemond,” you call with glee.

Said boy carefully and quietly climbs up the roof to sit beside you.

“I didn’t think you’d make it tonight,” you point out.

Aemond shrugs softly. “I couldn't find sleep. I knew you’d be here so I thought I could at least pass time.”

You smile softly and nod in comprehension before you glance at the sky again. You sit in silence and find comfort in it, he's always someone that you can find comfort in. Without Baela and Rhaena here he's your only best friend, someone you can confide in since it’s different with your brothers since they are young—maybe once they’re older you can behave like friends too and not just like the squabbling siblings you are.

“Do you think,” you begin to ask him out of fear even after your mother's attempt at comfort. “I’ll be sent away?”

Aemond pulls his gaze away from the sky and looks at you whilst you keep your eyes on the stars.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

You sigh and blink to look down. “I mean…I’m almost at the age to get married. Since I won’t inherit the throne or Driftmark, I’ll probably be married off to someone far from here.”

Aemond nods and follows your line of gaze. He’s unable to find something to say for a moment, but it then occurs to him. “We could get married. That way you’d stay here.”

You drift your eyes to him and muster a small soft smile. “We could,” you whisper in relief and feel your smile widen at the thought, but it soon begins to fade as doubt once again overtakes you. “But if we don’t would you run away with me?”

Aemond hesitates and then shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “We have our duties here.”

Your smile completely disappears at his answer, and your gaze drops to your fiddling fingers. “I’d run away with you if you asked,” you mutter and rest your elbows on your knees to rest your chin on your palms. “We could ride Astraea and fly far away.”

“Be what?” Aemond queries.

You shrug. “Whoever we want,” you throw out as if it wasn't obvious. “Pirates. Rich lords. Dragon riders that discover new lands.”

Aemond scoffs. “I don’t have a dragon.”

You look over at him and nudge his arm. “You’ll have one. I know it. There are still many that are unclaimed, my mother says they rest at Dragonstone.”

Aemond meets your gaze and his lips tug to a smile. “If I asked you to fly me there would you?”

You smirk and nod. “Of course!” You sit up to stand on your feet. “Who’d be laughing then, huh?” You try to comfort his own insecurities. “Aegon. That’s who.”

You twirl around and then reach the top of the roof to begin balancing on it as you slowly walk on it. “There’s Sheepstealer, Greyghost, Silverwing, Vermithor, and the scariest of them all, Cannibal!” You exclaim and jump around, causing Aemond to reach his hands out in case you fell.

“Stop that,” he snaps at you while he follows behind you. “You’ll fall.”

You chuckle and turn around again to keep balancing on the top of the roof. “Who would you pick?” You ask.

Aemond hums for a second before he answers with slight excitement. “Vermithor, beside Vhagar, Vermithor is one the largest.”

You peer back and shoot him a smile. “Nice. I’d still win you in a race though.”

Aemond smirks. “Vermithor is larger, he has more experience as well.” He says smugly.

“But Astraea is smaller, not so heavy,” you quickly rebuttal. “So her weight wouldn’t slow her down.”

Aemond playfully rolls his eyes. “I guess we’ll see,” he plays along and then pushes you forward very gently, causing you to stop in your tracks to turn and try to push him, but he steps back with a laugh.

You giggle in response and try to move ahead, but at that moment you catch a glimpse of your father Laenor standing on a balcony below all alone.

“What is it?” Aemond asks as he notices your smile fall.

You lean your head forward to get a better view, catching your father reading a letter. “It’s my father,” you whisper.

Aemond carefully falls beside you and looks out as well to see what you’re seeing.

“Come on,” you urge Aemond and grab his hand to lead him back inside through the window you had climbed out of.

When you're in the safety of the hall you come to a stop and hold your breaths to listen for approaching servants or guards. When you hear no footsteps, or metal clinking against each other you breathe out, and then lead Aemond down the stairs. He makes sure not to let go so he won’t fall behind, or so he can quickly stop you if he hears someone approaching.

It’s only until you approach the door that leads out to the balcony your father is on that Aemond pulls his hand out of your grasp, causing you to turn and face him with a puzzled look.

“Go,” he encourages you. “I’ll go back to my chambers.”

Your eyebrows slowly furrow. “Are you sure? You could join us.” You let him know kindly.

Aemond shakes his head. “It’s okay, he’s your father.”

“My father won’t get us in trouble for being awake so late,” you try to assure him.

But Aemond remains insistent. “It’s quite alright. I’ll see you on the morrow.”

You don’t try and fight him anymore and nod in agreement.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, matching a small soft smile with his words.

You shoot him a sweet smile in return. “Goodnight, Aemond.” You then turn and join your father out on the balcony.

Albeit he doesn’t turn when he hears the door close, so you call out to him softly. “Father?”

Said man lifts his head and peers back. When he realizes it’s you he blinks in slight shock whilst a smile tugs on his lips. “What are you doing here? It's late.”

You make your way to him and shrug. “I couldn’t sleep. And I…saw you down here alone so I wanted to keep you company.”

Rather than countering with disapproval, your father begins to smile. “You were on the roofs weren’t you?” He knows you too well.

Still, you act shocked and clueless, but he sees through you.

“You gave it away when you said “down here”, and you’re fiddling with your fingers.”

You look down and catch your involuntary act and stop right away whilst you stop beside him against the railing.

“I hope you remember what your mother says about being up there,” your father continues with a more strict tone.

“Well,” you quip innocently. “She won’t know if she doesn’t find out.”

Your father scoffs in amusement as his smile widens. “Alright. As long as you're careful though. Okay?”

You rest your hands on the stone railing and nod. “Always,” you assure him.

He hums and then looks ahead, causing his smile to fall and your curiosity to heighten. “Are you okay, father?”

Said man blinks in disbelief at your question. You’ve worried about him before, you, perhaps more than the other children. And that can be because you’re older and understand more, or because you are his only legitimate child. Whatever the reason, you were the closest to him out of the other two kids.

“I just miss my sister,” your father admits.

You hum softly and look up to the starry sky. “I know,” you begin to add softly. “Perhaps it’s not the same, but I miss my cousins Baela and Rhaena too. And when I do, I find comfort in gazing at the sky. I watch the stars and the moon and know that even if they’re far away, we’re still close in some way because regardless of distance, we all look up at the same sky, we all live under the same stars.”

You flicker your eyes to your father and catch a gleam in his eyes while a tender smile paints his face.

“That’s good,” he says softly and reaches over to pat your shoulder. “I’ve never thought of it that way.”

You mirror his smile and look up at the sky. He follows your line of gaze and smiles wider.

“Thank you,” he whispers to the stars.

You look over at him and offer him a sweet grin. “Of course. Now,” you roll out and lean back as you grip onto the railing. “Serious question.”

Your father scoffs softly and probes. “Okay. Share.”

“If I asked you to take me voyaging, would you?” You ask, and turn on your heels to face him excitedly.

“Voyaging?” He questions.

You nod eagerly. “Yes!” You exclaim. “Voyaging. You could teach me how to sail. I’ve asked my grandfather Corlys, but he says I should instead learn how to sew correctly.” You huff.

Your father chuckles softly. “You are terrible.”

You pout. “Well there are better things to do,” you grumble and roll your eyes. “Besides, the Septa is such a prude—Anway…we wouldn't even have to go far, just maybe across the narrow sea?” You bat your lashes so you can try and pursue him more effectively.

“Well,” your father sighs. “I don’t know how your mother would feel about that, but I can tell you one thing, I can teach you how to sail.”

Your eyes widen with joy. “Really?!” You lean forward and grab his arm. “You really mean it father?”

His smirk turns slightly smug and he nods. “I could.”

You squeal and turn to hook your arm around his. “And then you’d teach me how to wield a sword?”

Your father begins to walk you back inside whilst he answers. “Depends how well you master sailing.”

“Alright,” you nod. “Alright, I can accept that.”

“Can you accept going to bed?” Your father rebuttals with a joke. “The hour is late.”

“Hm, I suppose I could. So when will our first lesson be?” You press.

Your father meets your gaze and matches your smirk. “I’ll let you know.”

You smile and nod with contentment.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

Soft thrashes echo around the courtyard as your brothers Lucerys and Jacaerys, and uncles Aegon and Aemond train against straw men.

You aren’t really allowed to be watching them, the Septa says that it’s a waste of time, “you’re a Princess.” she says.

Pft, it’s boring going to lessons, besides, you learn far more by watching the boys swing their swords. You like to memorize them and then mirror those same actions at night when you can practice with a wooden sword you stole.

“Soften your knees,” you hear Ser Criston tell Aemond. “Feet light. Keep your feet light and your hands heavy.”

You drop your eyes to Aemond’s feet and proceed to shift your own feet to mirror his stance. He then moves on so you look over at Aegon and watch him swing his sword, but he gets distracted by passing servants so you roll your eyes and focus on Jace.

However, you then get interrupted. “Princess, how are lessons today?”

You jump, and when you peer back you see the friendly face of Ser Harwin walking past you.

Luckily it's not the Septa.

“I suppose well,” you sigh and shrug. “Ser Criston as always picks favorites.”

The knight hums and stops to turn and face you hidden under the shadows. “As always,” Ser Harwin agrees. “Where are you meant to be really?”

You begin to smirk. “Going to study High Valyrian, but I know it well, so I chose to take the long way there.”

Ser Harwin chuckles softly. “Alright, well keep your head low, you know how Ser Criston gets.”

You shoot him a happy smile and nod eagerly. The knight then walks away and joins the men in the courtyard, leaving you in your hiding spot like always. He never minds you secretly watching from the shadows, he's nice that way. Ser Criston on the other hand, “this is no place for a lady. Go.”

He’s such a prude too, he’s also an asshole to your brothers, and to Ser Harwin. Sometimes you wish to just stick a metal sword through his throat so he can shut up.

“…Let’s see if you can touch me,” you hear that same man say as you focus back on the courtyard. “You and your brother.”

You snicker and lift your head up higher to get a better view as Aegon and Aemond begin to fight against Ser Criston. And yes even though he’s an asshole, he’s still an impressive swordsman, you’ve learned a lot from watching him.

It’s also funny seeing him beat Aegon and Aemond.

“Ah,” Ser Harwin interjects. “Weapons up boys. Give your enemies no quarter.”

Ser Criston notices Ser Harwin, and leaves Aemond and Aegon defeated to slowly make his way to Ser Harwin.

“It seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention…Ser Criston.”

Right!

“You question my method of—”

“Ah, young lady there you are!”

Seven Hells!

You jump away from your spot and spin around to face your Septa striding towards you with discontent and judgment.

“I’ve just lost my way,” you lie and begin to head back inside before she can pull your ear. “I was heading to lessons.”

Her footsteps follow you and she quickly counters back immediately. “No, you’ll go to your mother, she’ll know about your wrongdoings.”

Thank the gods! She never punishes you like she tells the Septa she will.

“Hello there sweet niece!”

Seven Hells…

You narrow your gaze and frown with disgust before you look over your shoulder and shoot Aegon a scowl.

He chuckles like always because he thinks it’s some game.

As if.

“Young lady,” the Septa begins to scold you as she quickens her pace to reach you. “He is the prince and your uncle. That is rude, and not ladylike whatsoever. Turn around and greet him back.”

You draw in a deep and annoyed breath and stop in your tracks to turn around. He’s already looking at you and so is Aemond. “Good Morrow, uncle Aegon,” you greet him with a monotone voice.

Aegon snickers and Aemond joins in this time. You’d counter, but the Septa would only scold you again, so you pick up the side of your skirt to just turn on your heels and walk back inside.

Once you reach your mother's chambers you’re relieved to see her, but the Septa walks in and snitches.

“Princess Rhaenyra, I found the Princess at the training yard once again, watching the boys train instead of attending her lessons. Something must be done about her wild behavior, it is not ladylike.”

Since you have your back turned to her you begin to smirk with pride.

“Ah,” your mother answers, “I’m sorry, Septa. I’ll have a word with her immediately, thank you for bringing the issue to my attention.”

The Septa hums in agreement before she excuses herself and leaves, letting you swipe the book off the table to turn and walk over to your mother to give her a hello kiss on the cheek before you turn your attention to your one-day-old brother. “Good Morrow, Joffrey, it’s so nice to see you.”

“If anyone asks, say I…” your mother trails off as you sit by her and open the book. “I kept you from flying for a week.”

You giggle and nod as you turn the pages. “Okay.”

“How are they doing?” She refers to your brothers.

“Uh, Ser Criston as always ignores them, but Ser Harwin just joined them so they should finally begin to learn more,” you share. “How are you feeling?” You ask and look at her with concern.

Your mother glances at your brother wide awake and staring at her before she gives you an answer. “I’m quite in pain today, the milk is quite uncomfortable.”

You frown since you can’t do anything to help her. The only thing you can offer her are words and attempts at some kind of aid. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Is there anything I can do?”

Your mother meets your gaze and begins to smile softly. “No.” She shakes her head. “I’m quite fine. The girls should be here soon.”

Regardless of what she said you put the book down and walk over to the small table by the door to pour some water for her.

“I was thinking,” your mother interjects. “How would you like to accompany me when I attend the small council meetings? You could serve wine, as I did once.”

You meet her gaze with a slightly shocked look. “Really?” You ask as you walk back to her. “You mean it?”

Your mother nods. “Of course. They’re quite dreadful sometimes, but you want to be more involved so that should help.”

Your smile widens as you turn giddy. “Well, I would really love that. I think it’s a swell idea. Thank you, mother.”

Your mother offers you a happy smile and watches you move a small table closer to her so it’s easier to grab the water while she’s holding Joffrey.

“Thank you, my sweet girl,” she thanks you and caresses your hand as you join her back on the couch. “Now, would you read to me? I wouldn’t like you to fall behind on your Valyrian.”

This time without fuss you open the book back up and begin reading the words written on the pages. There’s a lot you know already, it’s just some pronunciation that you can’t get right at times, but your mother does offer her support so it makes it easier.

Not so soon after albeit, the Wetnurse comes so she steals her attention away, and since the topic isn’t as attention seeking to you, you keep reading.

That is until one of her handmaidens walks in looking quite distressed. “Princess.”

You lower your book to your lap and listen intently.

“There’s been an incident in the yard. Ser Harwin got in a fight with Ser Criston after an argument broke.”

You swallow thickly and quickly snap your eyes to your mother, noticing her smile had fallen and her gaze lost its happy gleam.

“Okay, thank you,” your mother directs at her handmaiden before she stands up and hands Joffrey to the Wet Nurse. “Do as I said.”

The Wetnurse leaves and your mother turns to face you. “You can stay here if it pleases you, my sweet, I’ll be back,” she says.

Without questioning her antics you nod to assure her and choose to stay in her chambers as she leaves through a secret door she has in her room; one reason being you really didn’t want to go to your room, and two, well you're curious to know what happened.

However, you might have an idea as to what led to that fight. Ser Criston probably provoked Ser Harwin with insinuations about your brothers. That’s the only reason why you’d think Ser Harwin would risk his position and hit a member of the Kingsguard.

But then again, Ser Criston deserves to get hit, he’s a dick. Yes hitting him probably only adds fire to the rumors about your brothers and Ser Harwin, but no one knows how insufferable Ser Criston is to your brothers, you, or your mother. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to, his dirty looks, and his cold shoulder when he shows kindness to Aegon, Aemond, Helaena, and Queen Alicent is enough to let you know he doesn’t like either of you.

Who knows why?

Regardless, your mother returns shortly after with an even more glum look painted on her face, meaning she overheard nothing good.

“To ease the pain, Princess,” her handmaiden lets her know as she rinses the cloth.

Your mother remains quiet and lets the handmaiden help her, whilst she now breaks her silence to speak to you. “Why don’t you keep reading to me, yes? You were doing so good.”

“Okay.” You give in to do as she says without probing, even if you’re dying to know what she heard, and even as singing begins to echo out in the hall, getting louder and louder, and also recognizable as the people get closer.

The moment you know it’s your father and his…Paramour, singing, you pause and end up sharing a knowing glance with your mother before the doors open and your father stumbles in with Ser Qarl.

“My dear wife,” your father greets with a chuckle. “My beautiful daughter.”

You look over at the man and offer him a sweet smile, noticing that he in fact is drunk; you can tell by his happy smile and his unbuttoned coat.

“Princess,” Ser Qarl greets your mother and then looks over at you. “Princess.”

“Hello, Ser Qarl,” you greet back, and then leave your book as you stand up since going off by the hardened look on your mother's face, what follows seems private and unpleasant.

“Oh…I fell down,” your father interjects and then snickers.

Yeah, he’s incredibly drunk. Again.

“I’m going to check on my brothers,” you let your mother know before you press a kiss on her cheek.

“Okay,” she answers and returns a kiss to your cheek. You then walk over to the door and stop by your father.

“Bye father,” you say with a smile regardless of his current state.

“Oh you’re leaving,” he counters and grabs your arm. “Why don’t you stay?” He turns to face your mother and then looks at Ser Qarl. “You should have heard what she told me last night. It was the sweetest thing.”

You grab his arm to gently slide your arm from his grasp. “I’m going to check on the boys, father, really,” you cut him off and go on your tiptoes to press a peck on his cheek. “Goodbye.”

“I’ll see you later then, my darling,” he doesn’t argue—or he just doesn’t have the right mind right now to try. Which benefits you, he’s drunk, he gets quite annoying when he’s so drunk so it’s good he didn’t insist.

Yet the curiosity in you does want you to stay back and listen to what your mother was going to tell him—but no, you can’t. Besides, she probably would’ve told you to leave either way….

That doesn’t mean you can’t just snoop.

No, you can’t. You’ll know soon. You can’t give in to temptation even if it’s killing you. You can’t!

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

“…It is Lord Blackwood’s contention, therefore, that the Brackens moved the boundary stones in the dead of the night and put their horses to graze in his field.”

Okay, yes, the excitement of accompanying your mother to these small council meetings has quickly washed away. All they do is talk and talk over insignificant matters.

“Why was this issue not brought before Lord Grover?” Queen Alicent asks. “Has he grown so feeble he cannot settle a quarrel over rocks?”

The Lords and others have stopped asking for wine halfway through this damned meeting, making for a dull wait.

“I’ve heard a tale that Lord Grover’s son now rules Riverrun in all but name,” a Lord adds.

“Well, he is also a Tully and this remains a Tully problem,” Alicent says.

“I would agree,” your grandfather interjects, letting Lord Tyland now cut in.

“If we may move on, my lords—”

“And yet,” your mother cuts him off, continuing with the previous matter. “The Brackens and the Blackwoods will use any excuse to spill each other's blood. So this dispute bears looking into. There will be countryfolk who know where the lines have been drawn for generations.”

“That is easy enough,” the Lord Hand agrees, causing Queen Alicent to scoff quietly in disagreement.

“Of course.” She shakes her head and takes a sip of wine with that same bitchy attitude she always bestows your mother, you, and your siblings. She doesn’t try to hide it either, making for yet someone else you dislike.

“Ser Tyland,” the Hand returns to his matter.

“Uh, we should address the latest developments in the Stepstones, my Lords.”

Your grandfather groans and comments with discontent. “Will we ever be shut of that blasted place?”

“If you ask me, I think the Blackwoods have the upper hand,” Lord Beesbury randomly cuts in with a topic already dealt with.

“We’ve moved on to the Stepstones, Lord Beesbury,” the Maester informs the old lord, causing you to look over at your mother to meet her gaze and share an amused look you quickly hide.

“And the Triarchy’s new alliance with Dorne,” Ser Tyland adds and makes sure to say it loud enough so Lord Beesbury can hear, only making you drop your head to hide your stifled smile.

“I was hoping our negotiations with Sunspear might persuade them to see reason,” your grandfather adds before coughing into his cloth. “To trust a Martell is to be disappointed.”

“And where, I wonder, is our Prince Daemon?” A lord asks. “Or I suppose I should call him King, as he styled himself when he won a battle there…once.”

You see the man smirk faintly as he fills with pride at his own comment only because the man he speaks of isn’t here. You’ve heard of his, uh, rash behavior, so you’d like to hear the Lord dare say the same thing with your uncle here.

He wouldn’t.

“…we have left it undefended,” you focus back on the conversation as your mother speaks. “There should’ve been fortifications built, watchtowers, a fleet of ships, a garrison of soldiers sent to hold our ground.”

“We cannot afford it,” Alicent counters. “Our coffers are great, but not infinite. We must consider the cost to our subjects.”

“I must agree—”

“The cost of war is greater,” your mother cuts Lord Beesbury off. “But we have been lax and the old monster now lifts its head.”

You drift your gaze to Alicent to wait for what she’d respond with, but a second of silence passes as she just glowers at your mother before she responds with ignorance. “Let us be finished.”

“Yes,” your grandfather breathes out with exhaustion, letting the other lords get up.

Albeit your mother stays seated and continues the meeting as everyone is out of their seats. “Wait. I wish to speak.”

You blink in confusion and focus on her as everyone except Alicent sits back down, and she continues.

“I have felt the…strife…” your mother begins to say. “Between our families of late, my Queen. And for any offense given by mine, I apologize. But we are one house. And long before that, we were friends.”

You glance at Alicent and see her expression has not softened whatsoever, she remains shooting glares and looking uninterested in what your mother has to say.

“My son Jacaerys will inherit the Iron Throne after me,” your mother adds, making you look down at your hands clasped together and sigh softly with…uneasiness. “I propose we betroth him to your daughter, Helaena. And my only daughter will inherit Dragonstone when I ascend the Throne…”

You blink and look over at your mother at the mention of your name, feeling your face slowly release the tension you began to have on your jaw.

“I propose we betroth her to your son, Aemond.” She offers in hopes for peace.

And at the sound of this news, finally, your interest is piqued, and a soft smile breaks on your face. Not only that but your grandfather glances over at you to share the same happiness with his smile.

“Ally ourselves,” your mother tries to further pursue the Queen. “Once and for all. Let them rule together.”

“A most judicious proposition,” your grandfather agrees with a smile.

Yet when you look over at Alicent, you don’t see that same joy.

“Additionally,” your mother goes on. “If Syrax brings forth another clutch of eggs your son Aemond will have his choice of them…a symbol of our goodwill.”

Your smile widens as you feel glad for Aemond having more chances to bond with his own dragon.

“Rhaenyra,” Alicent calls out with a serious tone.

You look over at Alicent and wait for what she has to say on the matter, but instead, she goes quiet and just watches your mother, causing you to follow her line of gaze and notice that your mother is leaking milk.

“Oh,” your mother says as she covers her breasts. “Seven Hells.”

You glance around to check if you have anything you could give her so she can cover up and avoid the stares from the men, but you have nothing to hand her. And that only makes you feel bad for her.

“My dear,” your grandfather interjects. “A dragon's egg is a handsome gift.”

“The King and I thank you for your offer and we will consider it duly.” Alicent bounces on after her husband. “You must rest now, husband.” She moves on to your grandfather's side, urging him to get up to finally end the meeting.

“Yes,” he agrees and gets up. Before he turns to walk away he stops before you and caresses your chin with a sweet smile on his face. “Have a pleasant day, darling.”

You beam at him and gently grasp his hand. “And you grandfather.”

Before he leaves and takes his hand away, you quickly take the shell from your pocket that you collected not so long ago and pass it to him.

When he feels what he’s now holding he pulls his hand away and glances at the delicate shell and chuckles softly. “Oh, why, what a wonderful surprise. Thank you.” He whispers excitedly and pats your shoulder before he’s whisked away, making the other lords scurry out after him, and ultimately leaving your mother and you to leave the room last.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mention the proposal before my Sweet. Do you like it though?” She asks you as you walk with her to her chambers.

You turn your head to meet her gaze and nod, noticing she looks even more upset now than seconds ago. Her gaze also looks distant.

“Yes, I do,” you assure her so she can know that she at least got someone to agree with her. “Aemond and I are rather good friends. He’s very nice to me.”

Your mother blinks and focuses on you to offer you a faint smile. “Good, that makes me happy. You’ll make a good pair.”

You glance ahead and feel even more giddy at the thought of telling him, and feel especially more happy at the idea that you wouldn’t have to leave after all.

“Do you think the Queen will accept?” You can’t help but ask. “Grandfather seems quite content with the proposals.”

Your mother shrugs. “I hope she does, but we'll see.”

You hope she does, you really hope so.

“May I go tell him?” You blurt with a growing smile.

Your mother notices your joy and can’t help but smile, albeit you do notice it is a bit strained as her attention wavers between you and her thoughts. “Yes, go on, but remember it’s not official yet.”

You shoot her a beaming grin before you pick up your gowns skirt to run up the stairs and hurry to Aemond’s chambers where you know he’ll be at this time of day. Once you finally reach his quarters you knock once and don’t wait a second before you knock repeatedly until the moment the door opens and he’s there with an annoyed expression.

“I assumed it was you with that annoying knocking,” he remarks.

You beam at him and then grab his arm to pull him out of his chambers since you aren't allowed to be in his quarters alone. “Guess what?” You ask in a sing-song voice while you begin to walk down the hall.

Aemond sighs deeply. “You know I hate playing this game with you.”

You roll your eyes and ignore his comment to share the news. “I was at the small council meeting and received glorious news.”

Aemond finally gets his interest piqued and looks at you with a curious stare, whilst you begin to only smile wider.

“My mother proposed that we get married and rule Dragonstone,” you share giddily.

Aemond’s eyes slowly widen, and you notice he swallows thickly.

“Isn’t that great?” You probe and grab his hand. “That means I wouldn’t have to leave and we won’t have to be apart.”

Aemond’s gaze lingers on yours for a moment without any reaction whatsoever. It was beginning to discourage you, but he slowly begins to smile; it’s a faint gesture, but he does smile and you take it as a good sign.

“Yes,” he agrees softly. “That’s good news. What did my mother say?”

Your smile falters at that question, but you keep trying to remain hopeful. “She said she’d think about it. I hope she agrees. I don’t think I want to marry anyone else truthfully.” You look ahead and let his hand go to clasp yours.

“Yes,” Aemond comments. “Me neither.”

A heat grows on your cheeks, and you feel so flustered that you almost can’t talk, but you add softly. “Anyway, that’s all the worthwhile news I had to share. I hope your mother agrees.”

“Me too,” Aemond agrees, heightening your excitement and causing it to last all day.

It's such a bubbling excitement that you could hardly sleep. That's all that invaded your mind, that proposal and the hope that they’d accept so you wouldn't have to leave, and so you wouldn’t marry anyone else but your best friend.

However, as that excitement shone over you, a dark cloud soon lurked. Besides the pain you know your mother feels, there’s that dark stormy cloud that still looms over her, only now it’s far more unruly and out of control, causing your shining excitement to slowly dim.

Especially when she wouldn't let you leave as Ser Harwin came to her chambers to say his goodbyes before leaving for Harrenhal.

Your assumption was right, he did fight Ser Criston because of insinuations. And yes, it doesn’t prove anything, they could pass it as just a snap of emotions on Ser Harwin’s part, but he's leaving regardless.

“…be good to your mother and sister, lads,” you hear Ser Harwin tell both Lucerys and Jacaerys. “I’ll visit when I can.” His leather creaks as he stands up. “But that may be some time.”

Quick footsteps sound on the floor, causing you to look up from your book and catch Jacaerys approaching your mother.

“Jace,” she mutters as she begins to caress the back of his head.

Ser Harwin then follows after your brother with that same soft look he always seemed to have around them, your mother, and even you.

“I will return,” the Knight tells your brother before he lifts his chin. “I promise.”

Your brother nods, letting Ser Harwin part away to approach your mother, but as he does, you look back at your book and pretend to read since you can’t actually bring yourself to focus.

Silence follows for a moment before you hear a kiss and then sweet words that follow by the same man. “I will be a stranger when we meet again.”

More silence follows, causing you to slowly lift your eyes, noticing that Ser Harwin and your mother were just holding each other's gazes. It was a gleaming gaze from him, you can’t read hers since her back is facing you, but you did know she cared for him, so you imagine it's as hurt as his.

But even still them looking at each other with so much tenderness and longing makes you wish for something as passionate as what they had. You want someone to look at you like how Ser Harwin looks at your mother, soft and lovingly.

“Princess,” he bows his head softly before his eyes begin to drift past her shoulder to where you are, so you hastily pretend to be reading once more and let him approach you before you look up and act clueless.

“Farewell sweet Princess, we’ll see each other again someday. But until then, may you let no one change who you are.” He offers you the same sweet smile he had given your brothers, so you can't help but offer him a kind smile as well before a response.

“Farewell Ser Harwin, may your journey home be pleasant.”

The knight offers you one last smile before he turns to collect his stuff to finally leave once and for all. Once he makes it outside though, Jacaerys runs after Ser Harwin but comes to a stop just past the chamber doors. Your mother follows and they both watch the Knight walk away.

“We will exchange letters by raven,” your mother assures Jacaerys. “Won’t that be fun?”

“Why do I look different from my sister?” Jacaerys bluntly asks your mother, causing you to blink in disbelief and straighten up to keep listening. “Is Harwin Strong my father? Am I a bastard?”

Your mother looks back to check if Lucerys is listening, but he isn’t; he's too distracted by his own thing.

“You are a Targaryen,” your mother assures your brother. “Same as your sister. That’s all that matters.”

Jacaerys says nothing in return, he doesn’t look content with her response, but it lets your mother press a kiss on his forehead before urging him back inside and following shortly after.

And now that is dealt with you close your book and get up to try and leave. “May I take my leave, mother? I wanted to go out to the gardens with Helaena.”

Your mother's gaze snaps to you and she swallows thickly before she approaches you with an even darker cloud that begins to creep toward you now.

“I need to tell you something,” she says and grabs your shoulder before cupping your cheek. “We’re going to be leaving.”

Just like that the cloud fully looms over you now, basking you in its darkness and gloom. “What?” You gasp in disbelief.

“My sweet please,” she mutters quietly. “Make a good example for your brothers.”

You draw in a deep breath and only frown deeper.

“It’s for the best,” she tries to convince you without making too much of a fuss. “Our time here has come to an end.”

You shake your head. “But what of the proposals? Aemond?” You argue.

“If Alicent agrees then you’ll come back when you’re older, okay?” She tries to assure you. “You can always exchange letters.”

You let out a shaky sigh, and lose your gaze on the floor as you begin to bite the inside of your cheek. “And grandfather?” You ask.

Your mother lets out a soft sigh, it’s shaky, but she responds as best as she can. “We’ll send ravens. We’ll be better at Dragonstone.”

If this is going to happen, if you are going to leave here then there’s only one thing that can assure you. “Will we leave together?” You ask and slowly meet her gaze. “All of us? Even father?”

Your mother caresses your cheek and nods. “Of course. We’re all going home.”

Home.

It’s only home as long as your family is there with you. So as long as that’s intact then it’s okay. You’ll be happy to go home.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @lightdragonrayne

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dirtyvulture · 8 months

Text

I Will Never Have You

??? x Beefy!Fem!Reader

“I Will Always Love You” - Alternate Ending

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: After the traumatic events of IWALY, you find solace with someone else.

Word count: 4386

AN: I wrote this ages ago, but didn’t have the courage to post it until now. Enjoy? 😬

“So, I heard Kate has a girlfriend now,” Natasha says, coming up behind Yelena who beats furiously at a punching bag.

“Oh, yeah, she does. I didn’t know you wanted any updates about her,” Yelena responds.

“Is it you?”

Yelena stops mid-punch, causing the bag to swing back and crash into her body. She’s nearly knocked off her feet but grabs onto it to steady herself. “What?” She looks at her sister almost offensively. “No.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t be upset if you were,” Natasha deflects.

“It’s not me, Nat.” Yelena slams her fist into the punching bag with so much force Natasha swears she hears her knuckles crack.

“Okay, okay,” Natasha backs off.

“You’ll see for yourself,” Yelena says. “Kate is bringing her to Stark’s party next week.”

“That’s where I first heard about her,” Natasha replies. “Is it true she’s from California?”

“Something like that.” Yelena doesn’t seem entirely comfortable admitting to more details, meaning that she knows more than she’s letting on.

“Well, good for Kate.” Natasha is genuinely happy to hear that Kate has finally found someone for herself. Natasha knew Clint’s protegee had always been intensely interested in you when she was with you, but hopefully now that you two were broken and you had moved away, Kate’s been able to stop pining, just as Natasha’s had to do.

After the poorest choice of judgment she’s ever experienced in her life, which resulted in Natasha assaulting you and damaging your relationship beyond repair, she has never been the same. She knows she doesn’t deserve better and her actions still haunt her despite the dozens of therapy sessions she’s been to. Fury had you reassigned to a different division at SHIELD and after you moved away, you never made contact with her again. Natasha knew it was best for the two of you to keep your space, but part of her wishes she could see you again, talk to you again, even though she knows she would never be able to have you in the way she had before.

“Well, I guess it’ll be nice to meet her then,” Natasha says.

“Yes, for you and me both,” Yelena agrees.

***********************************************************************

After a long week, Natasha reunites with Yelena to attend Stark’s party. She had been surprised her invite hadn’t been canceled, especially since she hadn’t seen any of her co-workers in almost six months since Fury removed her from the team. While she had long since adjusted to her new position, nothing could compare to the chemistry and energy of her old team. Sometimes she misses it so much she considers asking him to move her back, but she knows she wouldn’t be accepted back.

They don’t want to work with a rapist.

Although she hadn’t been convicted for her crime and it was never publicly announced what she did, it seemed that everyone knew that was the reason you and her broke up. She would still stumble across cruel notes slipped into her locker, some threatening to out her and some threatening violent physical harm and occasionally death. There was no point in reporting any of them, since they all spoke the truth. So instead, she kept them all.

The thrumming environment makes her just as uncomfortable as the familiar faces do. No one dares to talk to Natasha longer than a mandatory “long time, no see,” most of them turning instantly to her sister and engaging in conversation with her instead. Natasha feels the loneliness in her chest deepen. It could not be more apparent that no one wants her here, but as much as she wants to leave, being here is punishment enough for her.

Natasha follows Yelena around like a shadow, literally lurking behind her where she thinks no one will notice. They’re picking at a plate of crab rangoons when suddenly Yelena jabs her elbow into Natasha’s side. Natasha almost chokes on her food when Yelena says, “Kate’s here.”

“Where?”

Yelena points to the bar. Kate is standing there in a flowy purple dress that reminds Natasha of what teenagers wore to prom. Towering next to her is a familiar broad-shouldered figure, wearing a polo shirt in the same shade of purple. When both of them turn towards her and Yelena, Natasha almost faints.

It’s you.

How did you become Kate’s new girlfriend? Why did you say yes to her? A million thoughts swirl in Natasha’s head. You had told her a hundred times that you had no interest in Kate and even viewed her as a younger sister. Then how could this have happened? Did Kate slip something into your drink or hit you on the head? Maybe the trauma Natasha had caused you inadvertently gave you memory loss, and now you couldn’t remember that you didn’t even like–

“Sestra, are you okay?” Yelena interrupts as Natasha turns on her angrily.

“You knew,” she snaps. “You knew Kate was dating Y/N.”

“I was the first person she told,” Yelena admits. “And you know how Kate always felt about Y/N…”

“But it wasn’t returned!” Natasha hisses, although you standing next to Kate with your arm around her waist says otherwise. “How could you let this happen?”

“Let this happen?” Yelena’s eyes blaze with fury. “You’re the one who fucked up the relationship! Not me, not anyone else. And you know Kate would never hurt Y/N the way you did.”

Natasha swallows her anger because she knows Yelena is right. Because despite her faults, Kate would never do what she did to you.

Kate leans against you, her hand squeezing your bicep so hard Natasha is sure her nail marks are going to be imprinted into your skin all night. Marking her territory, Natasha scoffs, although how many times did she do the same to you before? She treated you like a piece of meat, like a possession she had ownership of, never like the human being you actually were.

But Kate has never looked happier as she pulls you around in tow, although you look just as uninterested in being here as Natasha feels. However, when you make eye contact with Natasha, you freeze and Kate jerks back because she isn’t strong enough to move you on her own.

Kate looks around frantically until she notices that you’re staring at Natasha, then she tugs you down to her level so she can whisper something in your ear. You shake your head, then nod and Kate kisses your cheek. Natasha wants to dissolve on the spot. Kate readjusts her grip on your arm and leads you over to Natasha and Yelena.

“Hi, Yelena! Hi, Nat,” Kate says first, waving to both of them in turn. “It’s good to see you both again, especially you, Nat. I know it’s been…a while.”

“Yes, hello, Kate.” Natasha notices Yelena move closer to her side, as if her sister is afraid she’ll try strangling Kate.

“And you both already know Y/N, I think…”

You grin as though it pains you, your teeth clenched as though you’re purposely preventing yourself from saying something.

“Anyway, we’ll be around if you want to catch up!” Kate says, and Natasha doesn’t miss the way she implies that if she wants to talk to you, she’ll have to talk to Kate too. Kate steers you off in another direction before Natasha can get a chance to say good-bye. Seeing Kate with you now makes Natasha wonder if this is how she felt every time she saw you with Natasha attached to your arm. It’s a sucky feeling.

Thinking about Kate being with you drives Natasha crazy. Maybe it’s that Kate gets to spend every moment with you. Maybe it’s that Kate gets to call you hers now. Maybe it’s that Kate gets to take you to bed. Natasha remembers when that had been her; she had never been happier in her life. No wonder Kate looked so happy with you. There was just something about you that brightened something in everyone.

And maybe Kate hadn’t had to do anything for you to turn to her. Maybe her carefree, simple nature was what you needed in your life after such a traumatic event. Natasha feels ashamed for thinking that Kate had to pull mind tricks to get you to fall for her. You deserved happiness, and if you found that with Kate, Natasha wouldn’t judge you or her for that.

Because one thing was clear now: there was no chance in the world Natasha was ever going to have you back.

***********************************************************************

“You okay, babe?” Kate says, resting her head on your shoulder. “We can get you a stronger drink if you–” She stops herself, her cheeks reddening as you stare down at the non-alcoholic margarita in your hands. You had given up alcohol since the assault and were surprised that Kate still didn’t remember this, especially after being with you for almost two months now.

“Uh, I’m sorry,” Kate rushes to apologize. “I’ll just get us some water.” Her hand brushes your arm as she turns away, waving down a waiter and turning back to push an icy glass of water in front of you.

“Thanks.” You take a sip, your hand shaking as you bring the glass to your mouth.

“Maybe we should go back to our room upstairs,” Kate suggests.

“I’m fine,” you insist. Kate keeps rubbing your forearm, which you assume is supposed to be a comforting gesture, but she’s holding on too hard, almost like she’s afraid that if she lets go of you you’ll walk right back into Natasha’s arms. But that’s an unlikely possibility, even more unlikely than you getting with Kate in the first place.

You’re still not totally sure how it happened, but within the first few months of you being stationed out in California, Kate had texted you. It had started out completely innocent, with her simply checking in to see how you were adjusting, and you were grateful to have someone to talk to. It escalated one week when you admitted to having a really hard time with life and without being prompted, Kate flew over from New York to be with you. She stayed with you longer than she should have, but when she finally went back, you felt you couldn’t be without her. So, you soon moved back to New York and the rest was history.

But it wasn’t perfect, as no relationship is, and sometimes you’re unsure if you made the right decision to come back to New York exclusively to be with Kate. She was a very nice girl, and since it was no secret how smitten she had been with you the entire time you were Natasha, you’re not surprised at how fast she warmed up to you. You, on the other hand, were facing some very complicated emotions and trauma, and it was difficult to tell if you had genuine feelings for Kate or were just using her as a crutch.

“Did seeing Nat upset you?” Kate asks, taking you out of your thoughts.

“What?” You hadn’t even said a single word to Natasha. Yelena had warned you both that she would be in attendance tonight, so you had prepared an entire speech of how to confront her, but when you finally saw her again, you choked up.

“It’s okay if it did,” Kate says, putting her arm around your shoulder now and pressing herself closer to you. “She really should be in jail for what she did to you–”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you snap, feeling immediately guilty when you see Kate’s hurt expression. “I…just…maybe later,” you add lamely.

Your therapist told you that opening up to a new relationship after what happened with Natasha would be difficult. Luckily, Kate had the advantage of knowing you before the assault, and what happened, so you didn’t have to fully relive the trauma and explain to her why you had trust issues or why you were now so guarded in bed.

You hadn’t expected to do it so soon, and while Kate would’ve eaten you alive the first chance she got, to her credit, she waited until you were ready. The first time you two had sex, you were certain that Kate was going to pass out when she saw you lying shirtless on her bed, and then she asked you to take her in every position you could ever think of until neither of you could move the next day. But as much passion as there was, the whispered “I love yous” and kisses and cuddles felt meaningless and empty. You didn’t know what it would take to get to that level of emotion, and you wonder at all if you’ll find it with Kate.

“Do you want to go back upstairs?” Kate asks again. “Maybe we can do something to clear your mind a little…”

While Kate’s appetite was worse than a burgeoning teenager, she respected your boundaries and never pushed you into doing something you didn’t want to. You found that your libido was significantly lower than it had been before the assault, but once in a while it spiked, which Kate couldn’t be happier for.

And tonight was one of those moments. Seeing Natasha again was not only traumatic but frustrating, and you needed something to get your mind off her.

You grab Kate’s hand suddenly. “Let’s go,” you say, pulling her out of her seat and scooping her up in your strong arms. She squeaks as her feet leave the floor, wrapping her arms around your neck to steady herself. You ignore the burning eyes on your back as you walk out carrying Kate.

***********************************************************************

You’re utterly impatient waiting for the elevator to take the two of you up to the suites. Every second that passes and you don’t have Kate underneath you makes your skin hot with need. By the time you finally make it to Kate’s room, you throw her onto the bed and take off your shirt and pants. Kate watches you in awe for a moment, like she’s still in disbelief that she gets to have you like this, before struggling with the zipper of her dress behind her neck.

Once you’re undressed, you climb onto the bed with her and flip her over by her hips, ripping the zipper down so roughly you’re sure you’ve ruined the fabric, but neither of you seem to care. Kate quickly sheds the gown and pushes it off onto the floor, turning back over and looping her arms around your neck to pull you down into a heated kiss.

When your teeth knock together, you wonder if you’re being too rough with Kate, but she doesn’t let you pull away. Instead, she wraps her legs around your waist, her ankles locking over your lower back. One of your hands finds her breasts in an effort to steady yourself over her, and she moans when your hand closes around the swell of her flesh.

“Is this okay?” you finally break away from her lips to ask.

“Yes, yes,” Kate gasps. Her hands trace over your back muscles, before finally digging into your shoulder blades to encourage you to arch into her. She tucks her head against your chest and you feel her lips scraping against your collarbone, bruising your skin and marking her claim on you.

“Oh God, Kate,” you say, your center pulsing with need. You feel her hands come around your sides, brushing across your tensed abs.

“I want to ride you,” Kate demands, but quickly changes her tone of voice when she sees you glaring down at her. “I mean, can I…Can I ride you, baby?”

It’s not a power play thing, you just don’t like Kate being forceful with her requests because it makes you feel like you don’t have a choice. Although you could say “no” at any point and Kate would stop, part of you is still subconsciously fearful that if you do, Kate won’t respect you and take advantage of you like Natasha did. You stopped drinking alcohol to make sure you were always in control of all your faculties, and your time with Kate so far had proved that she was a mindful and respectful partner, but the fear was still there. You wondered if it would ever truly go away or if you would be stuck battling it every single time you were in bed with someone.

“Hop on, baby,” you tell Kate, switching positions with her and relaxing with your back flat on the bed. Kate throws one leg over your waist, placing her hands on your chest and slowly lowering herself onto your chiseled stomach. Her core is hot and wet and it excites you to see how desperate she is for you.

“You feel so good,” Kate pants, slowly rocking back and forth. You take hold of her hips to guide her, flexing your abs until you feel like you can’t even take a breath. Kate moans as she bumps across the defined muscles of your stomach.

“Look at me, Kate,” you grunt as her nails curve into the skin of your chest. You want to see the light in her eyes when she comes undone, hear the moans she releases because she’s used your perfect body to get off.

Kate loses some of her rhythm as she forces herself to lift her head. Her blue eyes, swirling with lust and desire, lock onto yours, and you buck your hips suddenly, trying to angle your body to stimulate her into an orgasm. Kate grinds down on you, like she’s trying to stay seated on a bucking bull, but the movement is too much for her and she gushes across your stomach. You keep your firm grip on her waist so she doesn’t fall off, lowering your hips back onto the bed as she falls on top of you, panting hard.

You stroke the back of her head until she calms down, and then Kate sits up with a mischievous look in her eye.

“Can I clean you up?” she asks.

You smirk at her. “Sure, baby. Make sure you get every drop.”

Almost as if your words alone were enough to reinvigorate her, Kate crawls down your body and you spread your legs apart to let her lie between them. She puts a hand on each of your muscular thighs to balance herself and lower her head to lap at the stickiness coating your abs. You moan as her tongue slides across your muscles, collecting up every bit of the mess she made. Your skin shines not with her cum anymore but her saliva and the heat in your stomach rages hotter as you watch her, her head dipping lower and lower until suddenly her mouth finds the heat between your legs and your back arches with a moan.

“Fuck, Kate,” you gasp, moving your hands to the blankets instead so you don’t accidentally pull her hair out. Her tongue pushes into you with some hesitance at first, but as soon as she tastes you, she dives in deeper for more. Her head bobs up and down as she sets a pace that’s a little too quick for your liking and you try to roll your hips to indicate a better rhythm, but Kate is too drunk on your taste, too excited to be in this position, to pay you much attention. And as hot as her mouth is, as flexible as her tongue is, it’s not enough to get you off.

Kate may not be as experienced as your past partners, but sometimes you feel like she doesn’t even want or care to know what you actually like and what you don’t. While she’s never done anything to make you feel outright uncomfortable, you aren’t always satisfied with her efforts either–although she does try her best, that much is certain.

Your excitement begins to dwindle as the minutes tick by and you’re no closer to orgasm than when Kate was still on top of you. You’re surprised she hasn’t gotten a jaw cramp yet, and you don’t want her to, so you move your hand onto her head and push her back.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” you say, pretending to pant like you’re coming down from an amazing high. Kate sits back on her heels, wiping her lips with a grin. You know you’re just as guilty for not being honest with her, but for some reason, you just don’t have it in you to tell her the truth. This poor girl had waited years to be with you and probably thought she never had a chance in the world. You could give her this moment. There might not be more of them, anyway.

Kate crawls up to you to kiss you sloppily and you shy away, reaching over to the nightstand and twisting your elbow awkwardly to open the top drawer. Your fingers close around the rubber toy you’re looking for and you pull it out with a flourish, watching the way Kate’s eyes darken when she sees what you’re holding.

“Think you can handle one more?” you ask.

“Anything for you, baby.” She kisses you again and gets off of you so you can sit up and pull the straps over your legs, positioning the toy between them.

“Lie down,” you tell Kate, maneuvering yourself on top of her again. You can see the glistening wetness of her center and you know you won’t need any more lube, despite how large the toy is. Even in the beginning, you insisted on using a smaller size but Kate didn’t want that, saying that you looked the best with a big one between your legs. You didn’t argue with her on that and fucked her into the mattress until you were so exhausted you fell asleep with the strap still in her.

You grab onto each of Kate’s ankles and hoist her legs up, holding them in a wide V and tilting her butt up just a few inches off the bed. Scooting forward until the tip of your cock presses against her entrance, you look down at her and ask if she’s ready.

“Fuck me until I can’t walk,” Kate says, and she knows you’ll keep your side of the deal.

You thrust your hips forward, gliding into her almost entirely in one smooth motion, and Kate throws her head back and moans shamelessly. You use your grip on her ankles to pull her forward as your hips move, increasing the power of your thrusts and the entire bed shakes with your strength. Kate bounces along the mattress, trying to reach for you, desperate for something solid to hold onto while you fuck her brains out.

***********************************************************************

“I think I saw them head out earlier,” Natasha says, trying to act like she hadn’t had her eyes on you the whole time.

“So soon?” Yelena says. “Well, I think the only reason they showed up was to see you anyway–”

“I barely spoke to either of them.”

Yelena shrugs. “Did you expect them to hang around? After what you did?”

Sometimes, Natasha wonders whose side her sister is on. Then she remembers how Yelena had been ready to (justifiably) beat her to a pulp after she found out what Natasha had done.

“Do you want to go now?” Yelena asks, although she senses that Natasha wanted to leave hours ago.

“Yeah, I think I’m done here.”

“Okay.”

Natasha plans on spending the night in her sister’s room, since it’s too far of a drive back to her place in Rochester. She goes up the elevator with Yelena, feeling a wave of sadness fill her as she remembered the thousands of times she had gone up to the suites with you, with her teammates. Those days were long gone.

“Do you remember where my room is?” Yelena asks. “I have to grab something from the kitchen, so you can meet me there.”

“Sure.” But Natasha does not have the faintest memory of where Yelena’s suite is. She only remembers where yours and hers was. She wonders who’s moved in now and if they know the history of that room. It would probably be better if they didn’t.

She wanders down the dark hallway, nervous to realize that all the doors look the same. In a moment of panicked judgment, she reaches for a random door handle and pushes it open.

Just her luck, Natasha doesn’t stumble into Yelena’s empty room. It’s Kate’s.

Kate is lying naked on her bed with you equally naked and between her legs, holding them open at such a wide angle that even Natasha is impressed by her flexibility. Your abs flex as you jog your hips forward, slapping your thighs against Kate’s loudly. Natasha has a fleeting thought of being in Kate’s position before, but it is quickly replaced by shame and embarrassment.

“Uh, shit…” Natasha says, blush creeping up to the tips of her ears. She doesn’t know if either of you even notice her and quickly backs out, her heart pounding. She would never have you like that again, and it hurts her like a knife in her chest to know that she lost you to Kate.

Kate had seen Natasha peek into her room and never thought she would be so happy to be caught in a position like this. When Natasha leaves, Kate begs you to pound into her harder and faster, until you fear you’ll actually rip her in half. You don’t, but you do break the bedframe when it slams into the wall one too many times. Tony will not be happy to hear he has to order another bed for Kate.

Kate practically screams when she comes undone, tearing at the sheets and pillows with clawed hands. You finally drop her legs, pulling your cock out and falling on top of her, your body slick with sweat as you lay flat against her. Kate rolls you to the side as you wrap your arms around her and she tangles her legs with yours, resting her head on your chest and telling you to hold her tighter.

No other words are said, but the silence seems to communicate that both of you know this is a dream reaching its end.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Oh how the tables have turned...

This was a very different fic for me. I’d love to hear what you think! Especially from those who were anti-Nat endgame with the original. 👀

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff smut #Kate Bishop #kate bishop smut #natasha romanoff x reader #kate bishop x reader

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