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eightmakesonebraincell · 6 months

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ateez as royals who fall for you (hyung line)

read maknae line here

genre: royalty!ateez x fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, a brainrot and smutfest of royal tropes

length: 12.8k

c/w: very nsfw scenes - mdni, explicit language (dirty talk, swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, heavy & mature themes (sex work, murder, assassination, execution, mentions of misogyny)

a/n: this has simultaneously been the pride and joy of my life and the bane of my entire existence for the last 2.5 months 🥴 and tumblr is an inept incapable CLOWN who cannot handle the full 24k worth of bullet points so here is the hyung line first - maknae line coming soon (yumi @sorryimananti-romantic can vouch for my unsuccessful 3-hour attempt at formatting them into a single post)

hongjoong

pov: you're the king's royal courtesan

“fuck,” hongjoong lets out a deep growl from within his chest as his head dips down to rest against the crook of your neck. “you’re just as tight as last time”

when your hips involuntarily buck from the pleasure, he nudges your thighs further apart and keeps your wrists pinned above your head

he can’t help but let out another groan when he feels your walls clench around his cock as you adjust to his thickness

“i thought- god,” a moan escapes you after he thrusts his hips against you, “thought you never fucked the same woman twice”

“i don’t,” he simply says

and it’s true

hongjoong is one of the youngest princes to have ruled during the kim dynasty, having risen to power after the previous king succumbed early to an unknown illness

he has the choice and selection of all the courtesans available within the palace and outside its walls

hongjoong also has a reputation of being highly sought after by everybody, not just amongst courtesans

it’s not only because he is devilishly handsome, knows how to properly fuck somebody dumb, and is the literal king

the main thing that makes him so desirable and unreachable?

he never sees the same courtesan more than once

“yet here you are,” you hook your legs around hongjoong’s waist to gain leverage and meet his thrusts with your own hips, “between my legs for the second time”

you smirk when he curses and throws his head back

his grip on your wrists tightens and his voice drops dangerously low

“the first time doesn’t count because i was meant to see lady chae. so really, this is the first time i’m requesting for your services”

he silences you from retorting by pressing a bruising kiss against you, lips messily attaching to yours before trailing down the sharp angle of your jaw to bite your neck

you are a courtesan for people of nobility and royal status

part of the ‘house of flowers’ and commonly referred to as ‘flower courtesans’, you and the other women are highly-sought after for the companionship you offer

you are well protected by the house of flowers though - the services of companionship that you provide is requested by your client, but is ultimately accepted or rejected by you

lady chae, another of the flower courtesans and one of your closest friends, is requested by the king for her services

it is quite clear what it is going to entail and you both spend several of the following nights giggling and whispering scandalously to one another

whether the rumours about his stamina will be true

whether lady chae will be the first to break his one-fuck rule

except when the day of the meeting comes around, she spikes a sudden fever

lady shin, the head of the house of flowers, takes all but one look at her before ordering her to bed rest despite both of your attempts to, albeit unconvincingly, persuade lady shin that chae’s fever would only serve to help make the king’s dick warmer

lady shin is not amused to say the least

with the last minute hitch, the king agrees for you to be sent out to him as a replacement instead

and you end up being the flower courtesan who he breaks his reputed rule for

(lady chae is initially jealous, understandably)

(but very quickly, she appears to be even more excited than you are as she combs through your undergarments for the “sluttiest set” that she can find)

your attention is brought back as hongjoong flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, continuing to drag his length in and out of you while your back arches off the bed

you tease in between short breaths, “are you really bringing up another woman’s name while you have your cock inside me?”

“you brought it up first,” he reminds you, accentuating his answer with timed thrusts

you grind your hips against his, chasing more friction against your clit as you feel your high approaching

“why?” he snakes one of his hands down between your connected torsos to rub messy circles against your clit, smirking as he asks, “are you getting jealous already?”

for that, you clench down hard on his cock, immediately feeling the way it throbs inside of you as you bring him closer to his orgasm too

“as if. fuck off”

your words are hardly audible from the whines that are leaving your mouth due to the added pressure of another finger against your clit from your retaliation

“i’m close,” hongjoong releases his grip on your wrists so that he can straighten his body, anchoring his hand on your hip instead so that he can fuck you and rub your clit with his other hand with renewed vigour

when you hear him groan, “cum for me,” the string snaps and your whole body quivers in his hold as your orgasm washes over you

hongjoong’s hips gradually stutter to a pause, an occasional thrust inside your clenching pussy as he milks out the rest of his cum inside of you

he finally eases himself out of you and hums in satisfaction as he watches his cum slowly leak out of you

hongjoong drops down beside you, toned chest covered in a sheen layer of sweat as it rises up and down with his pants

when your fuzzy mind has cleared a little from the blissful haze of your orgasm, he strokes his fingertips along the side of your thigh, along the curve of your ass, and over the dip of your waist just under your breasts as he says, “you better not be jealous. first one to get jealous loses”

“if anyone’s going to get jealous first, it’s you,” you scoff back

he raises an eyebrow

oh yeah?

he shoves his leaking cum back inside of you and fingers you to another orgasm

now that shuts you up

for a man who barks, he sure has no bite, because you find yourself being notified by lady shin several days later of yet another request for your services under the king’s name

and another request turns into another

and every single time, hongjoong makes sure that the only word leaving your lips for those many hours is his moaned name

but at the same time, the more you and hongjoong meet, the more he just savours in your simple companionship

he asks you to teach him how to embroider because you’ve mentioned before it’s how you like to spend your free evenings

he rifles through your bag of materials that you bring

you smack his hand away at the carelessness with which he’s upturning everything

“what’s this?” he holds up a large, wooden hoop before trying to fit it through his head, “a necklace?”

“i wonder if people know they appointed an idiot to be king,” you say as you gently unscrew the hoops and demonstrate how to align a piece of fabric between the rings

he watches with interest as you screw the outer hoop tighter until the fabric is nice and taut and then repeat the process so you both have one to work with

you have to help hongjoong thread his needle too, because apparently the king’s fingers are only good for scissoring you open

you weave your own needle through the fabric at a slow pace whilst telling him the different names and uses of the stitches you’re showing him

except, when you look up to see if he’s following?

his own hoop has been abandoned to one side and he’s leaning against his hand as he gazes cheekily at you

“were you even paying attention?”

he sounds a little too confident when he answers not at all

in return, hongjoong shows you how to write hanja the next time you meet

he positions himself behind you with his hand over yours as he guides you through different characters stroke by stroke

he claims that there are specific ways of applying pressure to the brush so he has to be holding your hand at all times

you most definitely roll your eyes several times but you indulge him anyway

there are a lot of giggles and teasing pushes when you accidentally dip the end of your sleeve into the ink and you try to spread it onto his robes too

(the calligraphy may or may not become forgotten when hongjoong pins you down to stop your cheeky behaviour, because things naturally escalate whenever he has you under him)

you two do eventually manage to finish one decent-looking scroll of characters which he ends up gifting you so that you ‘don’t forget’ about him when you’re not with him

when you walk back into the house of flowers, the hanging scroll perks lady shin’s interest as you walk past

“hongjoong taught me how to write my name today”

lady shin waggles her eyebrows at you suggestively because of how casually you refer to the king, for which you nudge her with a shoulder

she laughs then asks to have a look

you unravel the paper to show her but then she makes a funny noise

“that’s not your name? these are the characters for- oh,” she cackles scandalously to herself, as if she has made a secret discovery

“what does it mean?” you hurry to clarify

you wouldn’t put it past him to have taught you a crude phrase instead, like ‘best tits’ or ‘biggest ass’

lady shin lets out an amused exhale, handing the scroll back to you

“it says, my flower”

you’re looking at those exact characters from where you lay on your bed when a knock sounds on your door several days later

lady shin steps into your room with a warm smile as you greet her

“you have an appointment with lord min tomorrow, but the king has just inquired about your service availability for tomorrow,” she informs you. “would you like me to give him the usual answer?”

this isn’t the first time a clash has occurred, particularly with the increasing frequency with which hongjoong requests to see you

you have always told lady shin to ask for hongjoong’s pardon and to offer him an alternative time or day, because in the end, you still need to maintain a professional and admirable reputation as a flower courtesan

and as you open your mouth to tell her ‘yes’, your eye catches the scroll hanging on your wall

my flower

you hesitate

“actually,” you look away from the hanja, “i’ll see hongjoong.”

lady shin gives you a motherly smile as she nods in understanding and closes the door behind her

the next day you see him, he excitedly points out the large tambour frame in his room that he bought just a few days prior, claiming you two can work on a big embroidery patch together now

you give him one look then demote him back to the small embroidery hoop because he still hasn’t learnt his basic stitches yet

(that’ll teach him to not pay attention when you’re demonstrating, ha)

you relent and end up going through the different stitches with him again anyway

and you find that he’s actually not that bad with embroidery once he’s actually focused on the task at hand

it’s nice, basking in each other's presence while he threads his little square of fabric and you work with the large frame you have now essentially claimed as yours

not that hongjoong minds; he did buy it solely to make you happy

and then you offhandedly mention that someone had gifted you a handkerchief with your initials embroidered on one of the corners the other day

“i actually have it on me, in fact,” and you take it out from where it’s tucked into your waist so that you can show him

he juts out his chin as he peers down at the delicate letters, huffing, “it’s pretty, i guess”

then as an afterthought he tacks on, “bet i could do a better job”

“are you jealous right now, kim hongjoong?”

said man is hellbent on avoiding your eyes as he picks up his needle and thread again

“no i’m not!”

“whatever you say,” you smirk

after that day though, you don’t receive another request from hongjoong to meet until two weeks later

which, in the grand scheme of things, really isn’t much

but in comparison to the frequency at which you are used to seeing him, the frequency at which your body is used to having him, it is much too long

you are almost beginning to wonder whether you shouldn’t have brought up the handkerchief gift

yet, he greets you with his usual teasing squeeze of your waist, dangerously close to your ass

you make a move to follow him through the doors to his chambers but he turns around to produce a silk cloth

he starts to blindfold you, whispering sultrily, “i have a surprise for you”

you feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise at his tone

guiding you inside, hongjoong gently pushes you down so that you sink into the plush duvet of his bed

“do you trust me?” he whispers

trying not to dwell on the urge to lick your dry lips, you answer, “of course”

you feel him tugging slowly on the string that holds the front of your corset together, loosening your dress with tenderness like you are a fragile gift

you shiver when your shoulders are suddenly exposed to the cold air

and then the sensation is followed by the warmth of hongjoong’s soft exhales along the expanse of your collarbones as he leans closer to fully disrobe your shoulders

you have to remind yourself to keep breathing

“you can look now,” he tells you

you remove the silk cloth from around your eyes, unsure of what to expect

it takes a few blinks to readjust your vision to the room around you but then your eyes finally focus

and you gasp

there, hung on the wall with its striking viridian green, shimmering threads and intricate swirls on glorious display, is quite possibly the most stunning dress you have ever laid eyes upon

“try it on,” he encourages

but as you step closer, you realise the lacing across the front of the corset and running down the sleeves of the top dress is in fact, not lacing

it’s patchy

it’s uneven

it has empty areas

but it is no doubt embroidery

“did you…did you make this?” you reach out a hand to lightly caress one of the embroidered flowers, not quite daring to believe that hongjoong would go to these lengths for you

“of course,” he wraps his arms around you from behind and presses a light kiss against your temple, “i’m not losing to a lousy handkerchief”

“is that why you disappeared for two weeks?”

you let out a laugh, sinking into his embrace, because the image of the great king holed up in his chambers for days on end, hunched over your dress with a needle, thread and frown on his face is just too endearing

he lets out a warning huff as he turns you around in his embrace to face him

upturning his hands, he shows you the tips of his fingers and grumbles, “i poked myself so many times for you and you laugh at me?”

you bring his hands closer to your face, pressing light kisses to his fingertips as you smile, “thank you, joong. i love it so much, i really do”

he looks at you impossibly soft

under his tender gaze, something suddenly rushes to your very core

you hold one his hands steady in front of your lips then swirl your tongue out in an experimental lick over his fingers

it’s almost captivating how quickly his pupils dilate and zero in on your tongue

so you dare to bring his fingers into your mouth

you suck on them a little harder

a little deeper

and then you moan around his fingers, “i want you”

he lets out a groan himself, feeling the front of his breeches tighten as his cock twitches

“i- fuck, i didn’t give the dress to you in hopes that it would lead to this,” yet despite his words he is stepping you backwards so that he can pin you against the wall

“i know, but i want you,” you palm his growing bulge, your knees going weak at how hard he already is. “and i need you. now.”

he doesn’t need further encouragement

he shoves the remainder of your clothes aside before inserting his fingers roughly between your folds

it doesn’t take long for him to bring you to your first orgasm, curling his fingers relentlessly as you ride them

he spreads your cum over your pussy and you buck your hips with a whine when he circles over your clit briefly

then he’s turning you around and bending you over, one of your hands bracing against the wall, your other arm held behind your back by hongjoong’s firm grasp

“fuck, you’re so wet,” his whole body shivers with pleasure as his cock slips right into you

the obscene sounds of his hips slapping against your ass and your slick being pushed back into your hole over and over again fill the room

and to the clenching of your pussy from another orgasm, hongjoong also cums into you with a guttural groan of your name

he gently carries you to his bed and lays you on top of the covers

he leaves your side for a moment and you listen to him rummage through something while you try to regain control of your quaking legs

when he comes back, you feel him gently spreading your legs and then the ticklish sensation of a soft cloth along your inner thighs

a whine escapes your lips when he rubs over your sensitive clit and hongjoong grips your thigh a little tighter

“be careful what pretty sounds you’re making if you can’t handle another round”

it isn’t until he finishes cleaning you up and lies down next to you to start wiping himself down that you look over and realise what it is that he’s been using this whole time

your mouth drops in disbelief

when hongjoong notices your expression, he smirks, “the man who gave you this has no idea his handkerchief is being used to clean my cum off your thighs”

“hongjoong!” you flush with a laugh. “you are definitely jealous, aren’t you?”

“yes, i’m fucking jealous,” he growls, “you’re the only one i want. you’re the only woman i’ve been requesting for since i’ve seen you. and i want to be the only one who gets to have you, too”

you confess, “well, you can have all of me. because i’ve started refusing other people just for you”

he looks at you for another moment before he’s suddenly straddling your hips

“change of plans,” he says breathily, “i need you again”

“very good plan,” you grind up against him

and then you pause, mirth starting to bubble in your throat, “one last thing though”

hongjoong looks down with amusement in his own eyes, wondering what could possibly be so funny

“that handkerchief?” you start, struggling not to laugh when his eyes immediately narrow, “i never said it was from a man. it was a gift from lady chae”

seonghwa

pov: you're his royal guard

as soon as you notice the movement out of the corner of your eye, your body reacts straight away

you murmur seonghwa’s name with a tight voice and move to position yourself in front of him, unwilling to risk the prince’s safety

one of your hands grasps the hilt of your sword, ready to unsheathe it at the first sign of danger, as your calculative gaze darts between the two young men stumbling closer on the dirt path and the line of forest trees from which they appear

they are wearing simple tunics and breeches with their colour faded and seams loosening from wear

from what you can discern, they are simply commoners, but that does not rule out the possibility that they are bandits

seonghwa seems to think otherwise, though

unsurprising but still grating

the prince places his hand on your shoulder gently in a silent reassurance and request for you to step aside

albeit reluctantly, you force yourself to move to his left

it becomes clear to you as the two figures stop just shy of a few feet away that the term ‘men’ was pushing it - their faces are young and they appear to be no older than seventeen or eighteen

the young strangers dip their head in greeting, one of them apologising as well as he pulls out a tattered map that he extends out for you two to see

“my companion and i are traveling to the village norshaw but seem to have lost our way. would you be able to point us in the right direction?” the one with the map asks

“of course,” seonghwa offers with a kind smile

you watch as the three of them step closer together to look more closely at the map

on high alert, and just as you are predicting, you see the companion shuffle closer to seonghwa, hand inching towards the leather pouch that hangs from the prince’s belt

you catch the subtle motion of seonghwa’s eyes flickering down just an inch

because of how well you understand his body language, you know that it means he has already noticed the thieving intention

but because of how well you understand seonghwa, you know that he isn’t going to do anything about it either

so you strike in his stead

your hand darts out to snatch the thieve’s wrist, twisting his forearm upwards so that he is forced to lean awkwardly towards one side to prevent his elbow from snapping

his partner drops the map, letting out a string of curses and hesitating for all but three seconds before he turns around to flee

scoffing, you threaten the one who is still in your hold, who then bolts with his tail between his legs after you release him

"did you really need to scare them off like that? it's not like i had any money in the pouch anyway," seonghwa chastises with a chuckle

"yes," you deadpan. "i did not spend the last two hours of our trip pausing every fifty meters to wait for you to pick up a rock because you thought it looked pretty, only for them to be stolen by a pair of petty thieves"

"it would have been funny to imagine their faces after realising what they stole," seonghwa grins

“mhm,” you hum, “and the next thing you know, you’ll wake up to your palace ransacked, because word in town is that you can steal from the prince and get away with it”

he levels you with a boyish scowl, “you’re so dramatic. what are you, my mother?”

“no, but i am your royal bodyguard”

“exactly. you are my bodyguard, not my brainguard. if i am to be swindled of my pretty rocks, then so be it”

you roll your eyes out of exasperation, but everything is swiftly forgotten minutes later when you point out a heart-shaped rock and seonghwa rushes over to pick it up

it has been like this ever since the incident occurred - him, the sunshine; you, the sunshine protector

it has been almost four years since it happened

somebody had attempted arsenic poisoning of not only seonghwa, but also those working under him

you had noticed strange discolouring of the silverware in the kitchen and on the table serving his dinner, which prompted an investigation and subsequent discovery of the perpetrator

an act of betrayal and treachery by one of his closest relatives - his very own uncle

seonghwa was - still is - too merciful and tender-hearted to punish his uncle, even if the severity of his uncle’s crimes warranted execution

to have his trust broken so shatteringly hurt seonghwa more than if he were to actually have been poisoned

you still remember like it was yesterday; the sight of the prince slumped against the wall, weighed down by chains of turmoil and despair as whispers fly through the palace of the weak-hearted prince who is unable to deliver fair judgement

it is the sight of the prince looking so small and lost that drives your feet forward to stand before him

as the soft draught coming through the windows tugs gently on your tresses and the flickers of candlelight illuminate the glint of steel in your hand, you make a decision

“i’ll be your sword,” you pledge

not just as his royal guard, but as his haven when he is forced to face corruption and wickedness

and when you see the way his shoulders immediately sag with relief at your declaration, the way he nods like a child who has been reassured that everything will be okay, you tell yourself that seonghwa will never have to dirty his hands as long as you are with him

you will be the dark to his light; the yin to his yang

quietly, you see to it that his uncle is executed for his crimes - your statement to the rest of the palace that prince seonghwa is not to be mocked

neither of you bring it up again, but seonghwa knows

he pulls you into a wholehearted hug, arms enveloping you securely as his chest shakes with shuddering breaths of thank you over and over again

you rub your hand up and down his sturdy back soothingly

it is an action that simultaneously reciprocates his embrace and his crossed line of professionalism

one that starts the shift in dynamic between you both, boundaries of sought comfort blurring with friendship and then something more

where seonghwa is too trusting and too soft-spoken, you become his skepticism and his voice

“you should be more wary of others,” you always remind him

“and you should be more trusty of others,” he’ll retort

yet, he will never make a decision that does not receive your input nor one that you do not agree with

where seonghwa is too gentle and too humble, you become his sword and his shield

you do not waver when you strike down foe, and friends turned foe alike

you speak up and establish firm boundaries when others take advantage of the respect he shows everybody regardless of their class or status

and yet, if you find yourself on the receiving end of someone’s condescension or discriminatory treatment, be it due to your rank as a guard or identity as a woman, seonghwa will be advancing forward to defend you before you can do so yourself

where seonghwa is too innocent and too bushy-tailed, you become his eyes and his caution

your morning walks together always last for longer than they are scheduled for

he stops to watch every butterfly and bumblebee that flutters along the flowery path, and he waits for caterpillars to crawl onto a leaf that he holds by the stem so that he can move the critters off the pathway

you love to watch him and his glittering eyes, his cheeks rosy from happiness and from the air still crisp with morning dew

but you also make sure to watch his surroundings with greater vigilance because the quiet peace that the freshly awoken sun brings simultaneously increases the likelihood of a targeted attack against him

as much as you rib him for being a marshmallow personified, however, and as much as he banters back that you are more than welcome to resign at any time, neither of you want it any other way

seonghwa carries out a lot of gestures that he justifies to himself as being eternally grateful for you and the things you do for him

he likes to gift you flowers he has plucked from his garden or the bushes he walks past that remind him of you

(“that’s actually just a very pretty-looking weed, but thank you, seonghwa,” you tell him on more than one occasion)

(it’s adorable, because the next time he finds a flower, he goes to the length of certifying that it is indeed a flower with the merchant who sells bouquets in the nearby town before presenting it to you, eyes gleaming with pride)

you stand still and let him tuck a flower behind your ear, sometimes braiding your hair gently so that he can weave and secure the stem into your hair, holding your breath as his features fill with the same enrapturement that he would admire a beautiful artwork with

after you voice this out one day, seonghwa supposes to himself that there is not much difference between an artwork and you

not that he’s attracted to you or anything - you just…have an objectively attractive face

yes.

especially when your usually-piercing expression is softened by fatigue, guard no longer up as you sleep slumped over a desk while accompanying him during his late night of studies

he does not realise his feet have moved until he is right beside your resting form, as if the soft exhales escaping from your slightly parted lips are a siren’s song

seonghwa tenderly brushes your stray locks away from your face and behind your neck

except he forgets to account for the fact that you are trained to sleep on the brink of consciousness

the squeal that leaves his mouth when your reflexes kick in and you almost slit his throat resounds at a frequency so high you almost believe it comes from your own mouth

you have a grand time watching his beet red face stutter out an excuse as to what exactly he was doing so close to you

needless to say, that is the last time seonghwa ever tries to do anything while you are sleeping

but as much as he bumbles around, he also reveals his perceptiveness when you least expect it

like now, as you accompany the prince to one of his meetings with numerous advisors and ministers

it is relatively dull and uneventful, mostly a cordial appearance to maintain amicable and loyal relationships with his subjects

conversation is limited to pleasantries and at one point, seonghwa even points out the calligraphy paintings hung at the back of the room

everyone nods with throaty laughs as if the paintings are indeed the most exquisite and tasteful artworks they have ever laid their eyes upon

when you and seonghwa arrive back at his chambers following the conclusion of the meeting, he walks over to his bed and shakes the sleeves of his robe over the expanse of his duvet

and out drops a neatly-wrapped sweet, followed by another, then another, until there are enough to amount to two handfuls

baffled, you look at seonghwa, because these are the very same treats that had been plated on the tables during the meeting

“you smuggled candy out of the room?” you try to keep the amusement out of your voice

he peers into his sleeves to ensure there are no more stragglers, before turning to face you as he waves his hands over the small collection of goods on his bed

as if they are-

“for you!” he exclaims almost proudly. “i saw you eyeing them during the meeting so i took some for you”

okay

most definitely proudly

you feel something tickling you from within, as if he has reached through your chest to directly caress your heart with a delicate finger

“when did you even…” your voice trails off when it comes out a little fonder than you are expecting it to

“remember the paintings i pointed out?” seonghwa giggles, and you think that the hand in your chest is now cradling your heart completely. “i swiped the sweets when everyone was looking back at them”

“thank you, hwa,” you settle on saying, because you do not trust yourself to say anything else

that is more than enough for him, though

which, of course it is - this is seonghwa, with his huge heart that fills easily with the smallest of things

he eagerly hands you one of the treats and you unwrap it to place into your mouth

you’ve had these before, but this one that he has specially grabbed for you tastes remarkably sweeter

you wonder if his lips will taste the same…

but then you accidentally bite your tongue, hard enough to draw blood, and you realise just how wrong you are for letting those fleeting thoughts into your mind

because while you navigate the world in thick droplets of red and sharp glints of silver, seonghwa sees the world in soft hues of pastel and gleaming rays of yellow

how could the two palettes ever blend together harmoniously?

so instead, you grant yourself one last moment of selfishness and pull him into a hug, a gesture that toes the already shaky borders of professionalism yet can still be excused under the guise of friendship

you realise that he has always meant much more to you, but that is what this will stay as - a mere realisation

seonghwa wraps his arms around your form as he relaxes into the way your bodies naturally meld together

it’s strange how easily you slot into his life, his thoughts, his heart

he wonders whether it’s possible for feelings of appreciation to run so deeply and potently within somebody, like a drug that he cannot get enough of

and when you take a step away from him, leaving his chest feeling physically and emotionally empty, he wonders if he is perhaps…

in love with you

following that incident, it is almost as if a switch flips - both of you take several steps away from the line that has been danced around

but neither of you notice the distance because you are both consumed by your own thoughts

until one of your usual morning walks around the castle walls of his palace

seonghwa is wondering whether the bushes you walk past remind you of the flowers he used to gift you and you are debating whether to reach out to brush a petal out of his half ponytail

then, like deja vu, your eyes flicker towards the burst of movement as a figure covered in black comes darting forwards with their blade raised intended for murder

you immediately start to unsheathe your sword, feet poised and prepared to defend-

until you are harshly tugged back and the prince steps in front of you to parry the strike that the assassin tries to land

it takes your lifetime of training and experience to snap back into focus and thrust your sword into the enemy’s exposed side

when you are sure he is dead, you whirl around to descend upon seonghwa with a voice trembling from both anger and relief

“what in the world were you thinking?” you yell

“i-”

taking a step forward, you toss your sword to one side, “no, actually. you weren’t thinking at all”

“i was afraid that you would get hurt!” he takes his own step closer

“that is my duty!” the volume of your voice raises even more. “i am willing to lay down my life to ensure your safety! i have been guarding you for years now and you have never acted this way. what has changed?”

for a moment, the only sound that punctuates the silence is your harsh breathing

seonghwa swallows

“my feelings…” he whispers, a stark contrast to the peak of emotions you have been riding. “my feelings for you have changed”

your throat tightens at his words

it is your turn to whisper, a noise of confusion leaving your lips

he takes another step closer, bringing himself to stand right in front of you as he looks down earnestly into your eyes

“i’d rather be the protector, and you be the protected”

“but…why?” your heart races with anticipation

“because i’m in love with you”

right at the invisible border that has been separating you two for as long as you have been his guard, seonghwa now stands, hands wringing together as he awaits a response

“then that makes the two of us,” you confess

you step forward to take your familiar spot on the other side of the line, except this time you do not stop

you stride over the boundary completely to stand by his side

raising yourself onto your tiptoes, you pull him down slightly by the front of his doublet so that you can press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips

it stretches wider and curves upwards under the nurturing of your own smile

you can’t help but give him another kiss on the other side of his mouth to match the one you just gave him

“from now on,” seonghwa starts, “i’ll be your sword”

you wouldn’t really, and you will fight him to let you continue being his guard, but that doesn’t stop one last teasing question from escaping you

“does this mean i get to retire?”

yunho

pov: you're part of a rebel group

the crown prince is not in his fucking library

for the past three weeks, the crown prince has always been in the royal library at night

until today

under normal circumstances, his royal guards and staff would be alerted to ensure that the deviance in routine is a conscious decision and not an issue of the crown prince missing

except doing that would make your job significantly harder…

considering you have been ordered to assassinate him.

you’re part of the ‘red sun’, a revolutionary movement aiming to overthrow the current monarch

following the debilitating state of the king after falling ill and the subsequent coronation of queen jeong into power, she has since then established numerous royal decrees to keep everyone under her reign on a tight leash

a leash made of barbed wire

people are quick to become resentful and thirsty for an end to the dictatorship and bloodline

although he has made limited public appearances, the crown prince has also developed a reputation rivaling the queen’s

within the second year of the jeong dynasty, red sun has already amassed a multitude of supporters

the focus is currently on growing in numbers, preparing for an imminent revolution and picking off corrupt royals and noblists, be it through incrimination or assassination

dealing with those in positions of higher power is a task only completed by an elite selection of red sun rebels who have distinguished skills and traits that set them apart from peasants and commoners

and you are amongst the elite team

which is why you find yourself staking out on the tiled roof of the imperial palace, clothed in black with a mask and hooded cowl covering your face that blends you in with the darkness of night, on the orders of a higher-up to assassinate the crown prince

except the target is missing; the information you were given is wrong

which never happens

you can’t risk staying around for much longer, especially now that the crown prince has broken his routine

he could be anywhere and so could his royal guards

you shift your body to a crouch and place your hands on the cool tiles beneath you, ready to leave

only to spot a figure, crouched just like you are, on the opposite side of the roof

their face is a black hole of nothing within the shrouded confines of their hood, but you can feel their gaze piercing into you all the same

you run

you scramble to the edge of the roof and nimbly leap off the curved eaves to the neighbouring structure of the study room

when you glance backwards, you see the man - physique now obvious - is keeping up easily along the stepping stones of roofs

this game of cat and mouse isn’t going to work for long

if you don’t get caught by him first, you’re both going to get caught by the palace guards

so you make a split decision and alter your next trajectory lower

keeping your arms outstretched for the eaves, you grab on tightly when your fingers touch the edge of the roof and use your core to kick your legs up to stop your body from slamming into the wall from the momentum of your jump

you let go and drop to the ground like a feline, noiseless, and slink towards a line of trees

then you wait

he’s good, you note to yourself, when the only sound that alerts you to his presence is the quick scuffle of his feet as he softens his impact against the wall and the muted thud of his body landing on the ground

“state your purpose,” he demands, voice low yet firm

you ignore him to ask, “who are you?”

now up close, you can see that the man is wearing attire almost the same as you are, identity also hidden by the his bandana and hood-

wait

even the dark red stitching that subtly replaces the original seam on the right shoulder of his outer clothing is the same

the same as those on the elite team

“one of you,” he confirms your suspicions

except you don’t recognise his voice nor his build

being one of the earliest members of the rebel organisation, you are familiar with all the members who carry out missions like yours

he is not one of them; not one you can trust yet

when you don’t speak, he adds on, “we need to go. the safehouse might be in danger”

he refers to the two of you so easily, as if you and him are an unspoken team

you cannot trust this man until you know for sure he is part of red sun, so you ask him

“when is red most beautiful?”

it is a vague question with a fixed answer

one that reflects the heart of the revolutionary itself

during the sunrise of a new beginning

“during the sunrise of a new beginning,” the man says resolutely

the tension releases from your shoulders

“okay,” you opt to abandon your original mission. “let’s check on the safehouse”

the man offers you a hand to hike yourself up onto one of the outer walls of the palace before he jumps up himself with ease

you both flip over the top and land in unison

the moon illuminates the ground beneath your feet as you both sprint into the surrounding forest

the safehouse is really just a small hut situated far enough from the palace to stay inconspicuous, yet not close enough to the outer borders of the kingdom to risk discovery by the frequent border patrols

you both slow down as you approach the clearing, steadying your breaths and treading with cautious steps

and then you hear it

the shattering clang of a desperate parry

all it takes is a quick glance at the man by your side before your eyes harden with purpose and your steps are dashing in unison towards the hut

you’re both hit with the smell of a metallic tang in the air, and it’s not from your drawn swords

bursting through the door, you quickly take in the scene before you

several red sun members are scattered around the hut and slumped in varying degrees of injury

it’s easy to spot the intruder; they’re yanking their sword out of a body’s torso as they simultaneously turn to look at you

and it’s hard to miss the royal insignia of the jeong monarch on their chest plate

you have the element of surprise

but only for the next few seconds

you leap forward with the thud of footsteps of your partner following almost immediately, side-stepping once you close the distance to dodge a haphazard swing

there’s a brief break in defense when the enemy tries to aim for another strike that leaves the gap in the side of their armour exposed

you feel the slight resistance of your sword entering flesh as you thrust it forward into them

except when you try to tug it back out, a hand grasps your own and the hilt of your sword, stopping you from stepping away

the enemy has realised they are not going to make it out of this alive

but if they are to die, then they are going to take one last person with them

you.

you see glint of metal as they use their other hand to swing their sword down onto you, only for it to be deflected at the last second by another sword

the man you have met for barely an hour is now at your side with his towering protectiveness

in one smooth kick, his long leg sends the other careening into the wall of the hut with a mighty slam

you feel yourself jerking forward from the enemy’s grasp still on your hand

but the man next to you quickly tucks you into his side before you are also sent sprawling

“check on the others,” he briefly says, and then he is striding towards the fallen intruder

you only spare him another quick glance and then you rush to the nearest figure on the ground

you go around checking for pulses, and for those who are still breathing, the extent of their injuries

there are several casualties but nowhere near as many if you and the man had not come to check on the safehouse

which suddenly makes you pause in your tracks

how did he know about the attack in the first place?

you stretch your legs from their squatted position next to one of the red sun members and turn around to confront him

except…the man has disappeared

and so has the intruder’s body

days later, the question of whether you will chance upon the man again tonight flits through your mind when you find yourself perched in the very same spot on the tiled roof of the palace that gives you a clear view of the royal library

you have received another order to assassinate the crown prince as soon as you see the opportunity arise

this time, the note is accompanied by a cyanide capsule, a non-verbal message that this mission is to occur with your life on the line

you spot him

he’s preoccupied by the scroll in his hand as he makes his way through the shelves of parchments

you wait until he’s walked far enough into the library before you drop down from the roof, keeping your stance low to ensure you stay hidden as you silently move closer

you take out the jagged dagger from its sheath by your waist as you anticipate it will be too difficult to wield your long sword in the narrow aisles

and there the crown prince stands

he has his back to you, exposing him to your mercy

mercy that you have no intention of showing him

the cruel heir to the throne of an even crueler dictatorship deserves none

“it’s you again, isn’t it?”

you freeze

the crown prince still has not turned around to address you, but you can feel the dark gaze of his eyes on you as if he were looking at you

“you were here a few days ago”

fuck

how he knows you have no idea

what you do know though is that you have about two seconds to make a move before you lose this chance to assassinate him completely, and quite possibly, lose your life as well

the pill you have hidden in the breast of your tunic feels heavy

“you are part of red sun, are you not?”

this time the crown prince does turn around to face you, but it isn’t the nonchalance with which he reveals your identity that makes your head reel

it is the warmth and softness in his gaze and the hint of a smile on his face that does

what the actual fuck

you’re convinced that the crown prince is not only heinous, but also batshit crazy

“i am,” you spit out at him, “with orders to assassinate you, in fact”

his mouth thins into a tight line, “the orders you have received are false”

“sounds exactly like something a crown prince would say to avoid being assassinated,” you scoff

but then his next words change everything

“red is most beautiful during the sunrise of a new beginning”

before you have time to fathom the bomb that has just been dropped, your heads swivel simultaneously towards the entrance of the royal library when a voice calls out for the crown prince

“hide,” he hisses urgently

and then he’s stepping further away to conceal your presence as best as possible

you hear the shuffle of footsteps approaching before they stop, dangerously close to where you’re crouched behind a bookshelf

“apologies for interrupting your time, crown prince,” they say

from where you are you can see the crown prince’s expression clear as he lets out a small huff, “i have told you many times to just call me yunho”

“of course, crown prince yunho”

even though you can’t see the other person’s expression, you can hear the amusement in their voice

they continue, “i have the information you have requested for”

“thank you,” you see him - yunho - receive a small scroll. “the queen does not know?”

“no, i made sure to be as discreet as possible”

yunho thanks the other once again and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets when he bows his head in appreciation as he dismisses them

is this the same crown prince as the rumours?

and what is he doing behind his mother’s back?

you don’t realise you’ve been staring dumbly at him until he’s back in front of you with amusement on his face

he stands tall and proud, robes accentuating his stature and nobility

“who exactly are you,” you dare to ask

your voice is small - you feel small, crouched at his feet like a stark physical representation of the power he holds over you

but then he takes yet another step closer and kneels down so that your eyes meet at the same level

“i am the leader of red sun. the creator of the whole revolution”

your ankles actually do give out at that and you have to seat yourself on the floor

because how is any of this possible?

you must have voiced your thoughts out loud, because before you know it, yunho is crossing his legs and making himself comfortable on the floor right in front of you

it makes you feel so strange

the crown prince’s willingness to make himself an equal before you - and even to his staff from earlier

yunho starts to explain

a change in monarch, particularly one of such dictatorship, requires massive momentum and synergy; something he cannot produce alone nor without the support of the people

thus, red sun came into existence for the exact same reason you and all the other supporters have joined

in hopes of a sunrise one day that marks a new beginning

a new leadership

except recently he has had growing suspicious of the presence of a traitor within the organisation, which were confirmed the night the safehouse was attacked

“that night…that man was you,” you realise, “and that’s how you know who i am”

he nods, “and that’s also how i know your orders are false.” yunho nudges you playfully with his knee, “pretty sure i never ordered for my own assassination”

yunho continues to explain that he had taken the intruder back for interrogation, but then you frown when he reveals the enemy had swallowed a suicide pill before any information could be gained

he has an inkling that someone in a high position of power is involved, since the pills are almost impossible to gain access to, but it cannot be ruled out as a coincidence

“hang on,” you pull down the top of your tunic in a hurry

yunho scrambles to cover his eyes and turns his head as he jokingly sputters out, “woah okay, this is moving a little fast don’t you think?”

you tug impatiently on the sleeve of his robe, telling him to look

yunho hesitates for another second before lowering his hands and realising you have-

“a suicide pill?”

you look at each other, because this can only mean one thing

the pills are not a coincidence; the enemy is much closer than yunho would like

you’re both unsure how much time there is until the traitor decides to order someone else to assassinate yunho, or worse, decides to finish the job off themselves

but from that very night of discovery, you and yunho work together incessantly against a ticking time bomb

it’s a delicate balance between finding as many leads as you can and spreading out your investigations to stay under the radar

yunho tries to look further into the cyanide pills while you try to uncover any information regarding the order you had been given

whoever is behind it all has kept their tracks hidden well

there isn’t much to report from either of your ends whenever you sneak into the palace to meet up with yunho

but he makes it very hard for you to feel discouraged when he makes your meetings seem like casual catch ups between - you dare say - friends

you have yet to catch him by surprise whenever you drop down from the roof in front of him in an attempt to scare him; he has an uncanny ability to sense your presence

except, you think you prefer being unsuccessful, because your indignant grumbles never fail to bring out his toothy grin and an excited body jiggle

other times he is the one trying to fluster you

“remember that time you literally tried undressing yourself in front of me-”

“i was taking the pill out to show you!”

you bring your thumb and index finger closer together in front of your face and squint at the gap

“i am this close to changing my mind and assassinating you after all”

he gets a kick out of it, pretending to beg for your mercy, “oh please spare me, your majesty”

other times, yunho teases you for always keeping your cowl and mask on

“bet it’s because you’re ugly or something,” he jokes

and you bite back that he had his face covered too when you both met, so you’re one to talk, ugly

“but since then i’ve always shown you my face as the crown prince. you can see me nice and clear,” he suddenly leans forward, so close you can see the dip of his cupid’s brow. “what do you think about me now?”

you swallow hard

you’re glad you have your mask on because you can feel your face rapidly heating up

“i think…” you gently cup his jaw, “you look better with your mask on,” as you nudge his face to the side

you cannot help but join in with your own chuckles at his laughter and boyish glee

and eventually, you two have a breakthrough

yunho manages to trace the cyanide back to a traveling merchant operating under the guise of selling rare herbs and medicine

in the transaction ledger, there is an unusually large purchase under the name of ‘lee minjun’

“i’m sure i’ve seen the name before somewhere, but i can’t remember where,” yunho huffs

you let out your own huff at his elbow that has very naturally taken a rest on your shoulder

pulling out a stack of paper, you spread it out onto the table before you two

they are past records of certain red sun missions that, upon looking back, seem suspicious

“i noticed a mark on a couple of them, a drawing or character perhaps? except none of them are fully intact. it’s almost like the paper was accidentally marked”

you point them out to yunho in hopes that he will have a better idea

he doesn’t - not at first

not until he chances upon two that vaguely align with each other to form a clearer image

“this-” yunho runs his hand through his hair, “this is butler lee’s stamp. my father’s butler.”

the king’s butler?

lee?

your eyes snap to yunho’s, just as his meet yours

“lee minjun”

you sink back in your seat

there’s now definite proof that the king’s butler is at the very least involved

the question of why and what for remains

in fact, you and yunho would not put it past the queen either to be involved too

there is a long moment of shared silence as you both mull over what this means for the future

yunho breaks the silence first

“after this all ends…do you want to work for me, officially?” he clears his throat, “will you stay by my side?”

after this all ends

you two must still uncover butler lee’s motives; likely part of a much grander scheme involving queen jeong too

you two must still bring down the whole monarch; with the support of red sun, yunho needs to sit on his rightful throne

the sun has yet to rise but you can see the faint hues of orange and twilight blue in the horizon

the new beginning is close

and at that, something in you relaxes

crumbles and disintegrates with utter relief

“it would be my honour to stay by your side forever, yunho”

and then you are removing your hood and mask, daring to breathe and feel alive and hopeful for once

ironically, yunho chokes on air

you glance at him to find that he is unable to meet your eyes

you think your eyes are deceiving you because-

the tips of his ears are a glowing red

you could definitely get used to seeing the usually calm and collected crown prince become a shy, blushing mess

the corner of your mouth rises with smugness, “like what you see?”

“you should really keep your hood and mask on,” he mumbles

“and why is that?” you humour him

he finally looks at you

and when he sees the shit-eating grin plastered across your face, his shoulders suddenly fill out again with confidence and cockiness to match yours

“because,” his voice deep and flirtatious, “with a pretty face like that, you’re going to distract me from my duties”

yeosang

pov: you're in an arranged marriage with him

ever since you could understand the words coming out of your parents’ mouths, you have known that you will be married to yeosang

it just made sense

for the respective princess and prince of two powerful kingdoms to join together, leading to increased power and stronger allies

it is tradition for the pair to meet their chosen spouse for the first time only when both parties have turned sixteen, and even then, subsequent meetings are rare until the time of the actual wedding

so you spend the first sixteen years of your life infatuated with the idea of your prince charming - of prince yeosang - wondering what he looks like, what his personality is like, and how you two will fall in love

and when you finally reach that long-awaited first meeting, prince charming is everything and more than what you have envisioned

if angels with broken wings were exiled to earth, they would look like yeosang

he is soft-spoken and slightly reserved, as any awkward teenager meeting their future spouse would be, but you don’t miss the way that his eyes overflow with adoration and his shoulders shake with exuberant giggles whenever his little sister, yeoreum, comes tottering into the room

he always bends down onto one knee to match her eye level, uncaring of the stains that mark his pants even as his mother narrows her eyes in disdain, and he listens with utmost sincerity when yeoreum tells him about the secret pink and glittery fairy she spotted in the courtyard

they remind you of the relationship you share with your own little brother, juwon, who is barely half your age and height, yet has you wrapped around his little finger

you lean down closer with a hum at the soft tug on your dress to hear your little brother whisper conspiratorially into your ear, “he looks stupid”

if looks could kill, yeosang would be dead right now

you stifle a laugh as you flick juwon’s chin affectionately at his sudden display of childish jealousy

if anything, you’re pretty sure you are the one who looks stupid

stupidly in love

because walking away from that first meeting with yeosang and his family, you know that you are absolutely smitten for the prince

unable to quell the restlessness of having to wait until the next unforeseeable meeting, you pick up a quill that very same day you return to your palace and start writing

it takes you all night, the gentle gleams and winks of the stars keeping you company until they rotate shifts with the songs of the waking world

but by the time you have crossed out and scrunched your way through rolls and rolls of parchment paper, you are satisfied with the letter you have written

the letter addressed to prince yeosang, which you task eunju, one of your maids, with passing it to the royal couriers for delivery to the kang palace

it is a simple letter, thanking him for the enjoyable day, yet it holds the deeper message that you are interested in him and would like to become better acquainted before your marriage

you wonder whether his cheeks will flush a pretty red as his butler hands him your letter

whether he will trace his fingers delicately over the curve of your words

whether he will bite back a smile as he pictures you saying the words to him

two weeks pass, and you approximate the letter to have just been delivered to his kingdom

and although you desperately wish for him to immediately sit down with a quill in hand to pen out his reply, you wait and give him a week before you eagerly start counting down the days until the arrival of his letter

your whole life you have been able to wait patiently

you wonder what has changed now that mere weeks feel like an eternity

the day yeosang’s letter is due to arrive, you are sporadic bursts of giggles, twirls and skips throughout the palace

even juwon is starting to become sick of getting swept up into a crushing hug to the cheery tune of i loveee youuuu every single time you pass him

nothing can bring you down from cloud nine

only…the letter never comes

not the day after, not the week after, not the month after

you’re disappointed, of course, but you busy yourself with reasons why yeosang has not replied, and you don’t give up

you send him another letter, and then another, and another

sometimes you just tell him about your day - what made you smile, what made you sad, something interesting you saw, something your little brother said

other times you tell him about yourself - your hobbies, likes and dislikes, aspirations, fears

and you also wonder about him

you ask what he likes, what he smiles at, what makes him sad, what his dreams are

with each letter that you hand over to eunju to be delivered, it becomes harder and harder to stay optimistic - not even the words of encouragement from your favourite maid lifts your spirits

you continue like this for over a year, still yet to receive a reply

until-

you do.

it feels like you are brought back to that very night of your first meeting, feeling so very alive as hope and excitement cascade into your body the moment eunju hands you a letter with a smile

with shaking hands, you fumble to unpeel the wax seal and free the envelope’s contents - a single piece of paper, neatly folded

your mind races with anticipated words and explanations

perhaps he had been too shy to reciprocate your letters earlier

or perhaps your letters had been lost in transit

you unfold the parchment as the hairs on your skin raise in anticipation, only to find it blank save for one scrawled sentence in the middle of the paper-

stop sending me letters.

and just like that, the clock strikes twelve

your carriage reverts into a pumpkin

and your carefully curated story of prince charming disintegrates into ashes

you don’t write to him again.

years later, the stacks of parchment scrolls on the wooden desk of the guest room you are currently residing in feel like a fresh slap in the face each time your eyes land on them

they are a stark reminder of your very own letters, the cold rejection you received, and the irony of the only letter you ever received again following his being one from the kang monarchs, announcing the proceeding of the royal wedding between you and their son

now, only a few days newly-wed to yeosang, the king and queen are gracious enough to let you sleep in one of the guest rooms temporarily, under your claims of adjusting to a life in a new kingdom and as a wife

really, you are trying to avoid yeosang for as long as you can

you spend your time instead getting to know his little sister better, which is why you find yourself sitting side by side with yeoreum, legs dangling off the edge of your bed

she eyes the vase of flowers on your bedside table curiously, “did you buy that?”

“no,” you reach out to touch the baby’s breath, “someone delivered it to my room”

you had offhandedly mentioned to some of your staff the other day that flowers would make your room look more homey, and you had woken up the morning after to find the beautiful vase teeming with flowers next to you

“why?” you ask yeoreum when she hums thoughtfully

“it looks just like the vase in my brother’s room, but he’s weird about it. yeo never lets anyone touch it, much less have it”

you blanch a little, “in that case i’ll give it back to him later then”

“you don’t like it? or…you don’t like my brother? my brother talks about you a lot, you know,” she reveals

caught off-guard by her perceptiveness, you reveal that you have been hurt before

you don’t specify by what exactly or who it is that you’re talking about, but she seems to understand regardless

later that night, sweet yeoreum barges into yeosang’s room and with as much feistiness as she can muster, she glares at her brother and interrogates, “what did you do to make her upset?”

before he can so much as blink, yeoreum concludes, “you boys are dumb. go talk to her and fix it or something,” and then walks out with a huff

there’s no one there to witness it, but yeosang nods anyway

heart feeling a little heavy after your conversation with yeoreum, you head towards the kitchen to seek solace in the sweet pastry you are usually served each morning

the first time you tasted the danish pastry, decorated with strawberries and cream cheese, was when you had traveled to yeosang’s palace at the age of sixteen for your first meeting

you remember the blissful expression that had bloomed across your face with your initial bite, and no dessert ever captivated your tastebuds quite the same way ever again

if there is one good thing out of this arranged marriage with yeosang, then it would be the reunion between yourself and the strawberry danish

“your highness,” the head chef bows, followed by the rest of the staff in the kitchen, “how may we help you?”

when you ask for one of the pastries, the head chef apologises that there are none

“but we can make you one now, if you do not mind waiting”

you tell him not to go to the trouble and ease his worries, “i just thought there may have been leftover pastries”

“we make only one fresh every morning, specifically for you,” the chef explains, and confusion must settle across your features because he adds on, “his highness has expressed that you may like them”

oh?

flustered, you can only muster a short response of, “i do, thank you,” before you smile once more and excuse yourself

because of all people to notice and remember such a small detail, and then to go out of their way to put in the request with the kitchen on the off chance that it was still true, it was yeosang?

first the vase, and now this

you feel something deeply buried inside of you start to stir but you rush to nip it in the bud

your head and your heart are beginning to wage war against each other and suddenly everything feels like it’s too much

when you reach your bedroom, you throw open the double doors to step out onto the balcony, welcoming the chilling breeze of the darkening sky

you’re tired of fearing rejection if you open up

you’re tired of questioning yeosang’s intentions

and on top of it all, you suddenly miss home and you miss your parents and you miss juwon and-

“are you okay?”

yeosang’s soft question startles you, having missed his knocking at your door

he walks closer to join you out on the balcony when he sees that the answer is obviously a no, and he prompts you again, “what’s wrong?”

thoughts of vases and strawberry pastries flit across your mind

you start with half truths

“just missing my little brother”

“you love him a lot, don’t you,” yeosang smiles sweetly, “i can see it in the way you take care of yeoreum”

you can’t help the heat that slowly creeps up the back of your neck and to your ears, because it implies that he’s noticed all the times you’ve showered his little sister with the same love you give to juwon

it implies he’s noticed you

“what’s your fondest memory of juwon?” he asks when you nod

something within you thaws slightly at the fact that yeosang remembers your little brother’s name

you step closer to the edge of the balcony so that you can overlook the garden outside your room a little clearer, resting your hand on the railing as yeosang waits patiently

“we used to have this game we played. we had a lot of gardenia flowers growing around our courtyard and juwon loved cutting some to make me a mini bouquet,” you pause to shake your head with a chuckle, “it drove our mother nuts”

“doesn’t sound like it stopped him from continuing though, did it?” yeosang questions with mirth

“no, it didn’t,” your heart aches with fondness. “he would use a certain number of gardenias and make me guess what phrase containing the same number of letters he had in mind”

it never failed to tug your mouth into a smile whenever juwon giggled at your attempts to guess the flower phrase, even when most times he would bound away whilst singing answers like y-o-u s-t-i-n-k or d-u-m-b d-u-m-b

yeosang supports himself on the railing with one hand as he nearly folds in on himself in laughter, and before you know it, you too are gasping for air and wiping away tears from your eyes

when you both calm down relatively enough, only intermittent chuckles leaving your lips, yeosang clears his throat and scratches his neck awkwardly

“i know it might not be much, but maybe we can go out into town tomorrow and it might take your mind off things? and we can bring yeoreum along if that makes you feel more comfortable, because you’ve probably spent more time alone with her than you have with me?”

you don’t admit it, but you’re already feeling a little better, so you decide to tease, “are you asking me out on a date right now, kang yeosang?”

“oh, well, we’d be doing things a little backwards since we’re already like, married…but, yes? maybe? is that okay?”

it’s yeosang’s turn to flush a deep red as his usually composed demeanor is reduced to stutters, but you don’t notice under the faint glow cast by the moon now reigning the sky

“yeah, that’s okay”

you and yeosang smile fondly as your little trio stroll through a nearby town the following morning, his younger sister skipping ahead to peer at the colourful trinkets being sold at the market stalls, and your own small squad of royal soldiers following behind at a respectful distance

it’s kind of endearing how yeosang points out item after item, asking whether you like it or whether you find it pretty, in a not-so-subtle attempt to learn about your preferences

you have to stop him from buying you something from every second stall you both pass, but you’re unable to convince him from purchasing a small wooden toy as a gift for juwon, insisting that you give it to your little brother the next time you see him

the more you actually interact and talk with yeosang, the harder you find it to associate him with the memory of the yeosang in your rejected letters

because the equation of the letters, the vase and the pastries just does not add up

as you two sit under the awning of a small shop, watching yeoreum play with the shopkeeper’s dog, you find yourself unable to hold back anymore

“why didn’t you reply to my letters?” you break the silence, trying to hide the hurt laced in your voice

yeosang looks at you with wide eyes as his mouth stutters open

and in the smallest voice you have ever heard him speak with, he says

“you wrote me letters?”

your eyebrows knit together as your eyes dart back and forth between his, searching for any hint of deception

“too many to count,” you confess, “until you sent a letter telling me to stop…”

“impossible. i never got your letters”

your head recoils back as you try to make sense of his words, “but-”

“wait,” he interrupts

yeosang reaches into his robes, pulling out a small, wooden block, extending it out closer to you as he asks, “do you recognise this?”

upon closer inspection, you realise it’s a square seal stamp

it has the character ‘姜’ carved into it and you’ve seen it enough times to know it represents the kang family name - but the inscription that stylises the border is unfamiliar

“not the seal, no”

he swallows apprehensively, “i stamp all my letters with this to certify authenticity”

you let his words sink in as they throw you into a sandstorm of bewilderment

“but then-”

but then who wrote the letter?

and where did all your letters go?

the only people who would have known about them would be the royal couriers and…eunju

a memory flashes through your mind - the moment she handed you a letter with a smile

no, not a smile, you realise

a smirk

you are simultaneously overwhelmed with betrayal, guilt and apologeticness

yeosang doesn’t push you for a response, and you come to recognise that you are also grateful

“i’m sorry for doubting you,” you tell him

it’s nowhere close to the amount of things you want to confess, but it is a start, one that yeosang picks up on and understands immediately

“no, i’m sorry you felt the need to doubt me,” he offers. “that i didn’t make you feel loved enough”

“but i did, actually. the vase and the pastries, then our conversation last night…and even today”

he blushes a deep red as you list the things off with your fingers

“you weren’t meant to find out about the first two,” yeosang admits as he ducks his head shyly

then he suddenly perks up with a sudden thought

he ruffles inside his satchel that had been abandoned to one side, mumbling, “my sister said i did something to upset you…so i um, got you these”

he turns around to reveal a bouquet of flowers, looking a little rough for wear after being hidden in his bag all morning, but his clumsy consideration only serves to makes your heart skip dangerously

“forgive me?” he asks cheekily, and you both giggle at the absurdity of his question because it should very well be the other way around

“if you insist,” you take the bouquet into your hands

and finally, you allow the chains around your heart to fall away, “i can’t say no to my husband, can i?”

yeosang lets out a little squeak as you look at the bouquet more clearly, counting the number of flowers

you turn to ask if he remembers the game you told him about, but the way yeosang suddenly finds the patch of dirt near his foot absolutely fascinating tells you everything that you need to know

eight flowers

eight letters

i l-o-v-e y-o-u

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artist-ellen · 3 days

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The Wedding of Rhaenyra and Daemon

I need all the love for this one because I super-focused on it for over half a day without pause. What sleep schedule? I had the unstoppable urge to draw these two menaces. If you want me to make more things like this the endorphin rush of positive feedback will need to be stellar XD. Second bird with this stone is that I actually drew an unprompted man for the HotD series. Can’t be getting too predictable with only pretty ladies.

For this redesign I wanted to reference and build off of Rhaenyra's Heir outfit. So while it's not exactly the same they should feel like they are pulling more from the "ancient Valyerian" (Byzantine-esque) fashion than the styles that Alicent is currently wearing in court. Extra points if you an spot the references to Empress Theodora (again + her Emperor). Oh and because I make the rules in these redesigns: Corlys is Black and Rhaenyra isn't Hollywood sized. I can pull from the books and the show as I please! So I wanted to include her long single plait (styled after a previous Queen) and her generous curves in these post-time jump illustrations.

I am the artist! Do not post without permission & credit! Thank you! Come visit me over on: instagram, tiktok or check out my coloring book available now \ („• ֊ •„) /

https://linktr.ee/ellen.artistic

#rhaenyra targaryen #team black #fire and blood #house of the dragon #redesigning hotd #ellenart #ellen artistic #character design #digital illustration #costume design #historically inspired #byzantine targaryens #house targaryen #daemon targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra

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sl-ut · 28 days

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a prince’s desire

so sorry if this sucks lol I just got really high and wrote this in like 2 hours lolol

pairing: rhaenyra targaryen x fem!pregnant!reader x daemon targaryen

description: after being reunited with her lover, rhaenyra takes her back to dragonstone to join her family and requests that daemon take her as a second wife. now, over a year after the wedding, rhaenyra wants nothing more than to see her wife pregnant, and daemon is more than happy to oblige.

warnings: SMUT, pregnancy, reader gets pretty depressed while she's preggo, mentions of masturbation, angst, slight canon divergence, alcohol consumption, mentions of (consensual) adultery turned polyamory, mentions of death (adult and children :((( ), polygamy, swearing, all other canon warnings (incest (i try my hardest to not lay this one on thick bc ew), violence, sexism, etc)

words: 5K

date posted: 27/03/24

previous installments: a princess's order a lady's demand

After his third marriage, Daemon Targaryen had absolutely no intentions of taking another wife. His history with married life had not necessarily been a good one; Rhea Royce had been nothing but a royal pain in his ass; He’d been happy with Laena, though her life came to an end far too soon; He did love Rhaenyra, though ambition and pride often came between them. Mistresses, sure–Daemon was a rather insatiable man, and Rhaenyra had been almost consistently pregnant during their early years of marriage, but he’d never even once considered that he might have to stand through yet another wedding ceremony, especially one that had been arranged and encouraged by his still living wife and future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

He hadn’t been at all surprised when Rhaenyra confessed to him that she had once loved her childhood friend, nor that she did not think that she would ever truly be able to move past the conflict between them or love another quite the same. Of course, she loved Daemon, and even Laenor and Harwin to some degree, but none would ever stand up to her very first love that she’d allowed to slip through her fingers like running water. He was equally unsurprised to find that she’d not returned to their rooms on their first night back in King’s Landing, nor that she would return in the early hours of the morning with a familiar glow that he’d only seen on her after their own late night activities, especially since he’d caught wind earlier in the evening that Lady Y/n Y/l/n had returned to the capitol a widow.

There were things that he had expected from this relationship; The two would fuck, of course, to make up for lost time, they would spend the majority of their days strolling through the gardens as they had done when they were girls, and Y/n would perhaps even return to Dragonstone with them as her mistress. Daemon could not exactly blame his wife for her affections, Lady Y/n was undeniably beautiful, and he would certainly take her to bed if he were ever given the chance. She could remarry, of course, she was still young and she’d already proven herself to be fertile, even if the children had not survived infancy. Any man would be a fool to turn her away, which is exactly why Daemon found himself standing before her on the black-sand shores of Dragonstone, a chalice between them and blood dripping from either of their lips. Rhaenyra had watched on with glee, rushing forward the moment that the ceremony had been complete to engulf her new wife in a tight embrace, sealing their own union with a firm kiss.

Daemon had not been included in the wedding night activities, though he had been invited to watch, which he did so from the balcony of their chambers in order to give them their own space. Rhaenyra’s body had been glowing in the candle light, curves and smooth, milky skin on display for him and their new wife to admire as they both had time and time again in the past. Daemon could not tear his gaze away from their new wife’s figure, no matter how hard he tried. He blamed it on the novelty of having a new wife, especially one that he was not even able to touch on their wedding night, and he might have reacted the same way if he were to see any woman naked for the first time. He stroked himself on the balcony, low grunts leaving his lips as her moans reached his ears, eyes tracing over her breasts, the pudge of her stomach, the curve of her spine, and–oh… he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a woman’s core glisten like that before, nor had he ever heard such a prominent squelch as the Targaryen princess dipped her fingers inside. He’d always known she was a beautiful lady, but now, oh now he was able to understand to some degree why Rhaenyra was so strongly under her spell.

Just over a year had passed, and Daemon had still yet to enjoy his newest wife to the extent that he would have liked. He did enjoy getting to know her personally, finding her much more amusing than he had expected, and they often found themselves sitting together in the evenings while Rhaenyra was busy with her royal duties. They had kissed each other on several occasions, and she had once allowed him to kneel beneath her skirts one evening after a tad too much wine, but nothing further had developed in their physical relationship.

She had fit into their family easier than any of them could have expected. She was good with the children, taking them all under her wing as if they were her own, though her relationship with both Rhaenyra and Daemons older children was a bit strained in the beginning. Children were a bit of a sore topic for her; She rarely spoke of her own late children, but both Daemon and Rhaenyra could easily tell how broken she was over their deaths. She and Rhaenyra had bonded even more after Rhaenyra had lost her own daughter in labour, all three parties agreeing that Rhaenyra would not have any more children.

That did not change the fact that both Daemon and Rhaenyra could tell that Y/n longed to be a mother once more. She honoured her own boys on their name days, and on the anniversaries of their deaths, but none of Rhaenyra’s children saw her as a mother, nor did she expect them to. They both noticed the way she had this longing stare in her eyes each time that one of the younger children called for their mother, or as Jacaerys and Lucerys slowly grew into young men, as her own children would not be much younger than they are now had they survived their sickness. It was just after the one year anniversary of Daemon and Y/n’s wedding that Rhaenyra proposed to him that they offer Y/n the chance to have another child, as many as she was willing to carry, but of course it would ultimately be her decision; Neither of them were very fussed either way, they both already had a small militia of children of their own, but they would be happy to welcome more into the world, especially if it meant that she would be tied to the Targaryen bloodline through more than marriage.

They waited a while longer to bring this to her, but Rhaenyra had been subtly encouraging her to spend more time with Daemon, and even suggested that they might begin sharing a bed with one another from time to time, whether it be on their own or with Rhaenyra present. She assured her that he was in fact attracted to her, pointing out how she is the one that he stares so longingly at when he watches them together. It was not that Y/n had been opposed to this, she was equally as attracted to Daemon as he was to her, but she had not been with a man since her late husband, and she had not expected to ever take another man to bed again now that she and Rhaenyra were officially together.

The conversation was finally brought to her a month after she and Daemon spent their first night together. They had been intimate, but she had still not allowed him to be inside of her, instead opting to pleasure him with her mouth, hands, and breasts. Rhaenyra whispered in her ear during supper one evening, suggesting that they invite their husband to join them that night, which she excitedly agreed to, completely unaware of what sort of proposition they would offer her, and she was especially surprised at how quickly she consented to their idea.

Rhaenyra had knelt behind her that night, both straddling their husband’s hips as the blonde gripped her wife’s waist to aid her movements, guiding her with every bounce of her long cock and whispering praises into her ear between kisses on her neck. Daemon had been uncharacteristically happy to sit back against the headboard and watch as his wives moved in unison over him, grunting as the tight squeeze of her velvet walls around him. He could hardly pull himself away from her lips, eagerly swallowing every one of her sweet moans as he emptied himself inside of her, sighing as she slumped back against Rhaenyra as she reached her own peak.

They had continued this for months until the maester finally confirmed that Y/n was with child, her skin glowing in delight at the thought of having a child to raise with her husband and wife. By the fifth month of her pregnancy, her stomach had swelled enough to show through her heavy gowns, and her hormones had taken full effect of her everyday life.

If it weren’t bad enough that she was constantly fatigued, or that her feet and back ached, or that her breasts were swollen and tender to the mere brush of her gown against her sensitive nipples, she had also grown to be absolutely insatiable. She found that her thighs were constantly slick with her arousal, and that she was able to bring herself to orgasm in the simplest ways, even by just sitting on certain pieces of furniture. Daemon and Rhaenyra could no longer enjoy bedding her on the same night quite as regularly as before, all because of how regularly she was mewling for them; Daemon had even jokingly suggested that they encourage her maids to pleasure her throughout the day so that they could keep up with her, only to be met with Rhaenyra’s palm slamming into the back of his head. It even came to the point where Rhaenyra felt the need to consult the maester about how regularly all three of them were being intimate together, who advised that, as her pregnancy developed, physical intimacy may result in causing her pain.

Instead, Rhaenyra encouraged her to participate in some “self-care” routines, as she had called them, telling her that pregnancy could cause her to think poorly of herself in many ways, so she thought it best that she take long, hot baths under the candlelight, drink honeyed wine and have her maids soak her in scented oils before taking the initiative to pleasure herself as much as she desired. Daemon had not been so keen on this idea, considering that he was constantly finding her with her hands between her thighs and not allowing him to cut in until she had finished, meaning that she was incredibly sensitive and could not take quite as much as she used to be able to before she began this routine. Even Rhaenyra was beginning to regret it, easily noticing the way that her maids now stared at her longingly, likely having seen and heard her in the throes of self-pleasure more times than they had with her husband and wife involved.

When Rhaenyra brought up her annoyances with Daemon, he had been quick to point fingers, claiming that it was entirely her fault that Y/n had not been seeking them out as much. They both came to the conclusion that they needed to get her out of this habit as quickly as she had gotten into it.

“My love,” Rhaenyra smiled sweetly as she entered her chambers, finding her settled in the bathtub with rose petals floating in the water around her. The water rippled around her rounded belly and breasts as they poked out into the warm air. Rhaenyra thought that she had never looked so beautiful in her life, with the exception of their wedding day. “How do you feel? The maester told me you had a bout of sickness after supper.”

The woman opened her eyes, smiling sleepily at her wife as she knelt at her side, one hand dipping in to feel the temperature of the water, “‘M fine, Nyra. I do not think that mutton agrees with our babe.”

The Targaryen woman laughed, “I’m sorry, my love, I know how you enjoy mutton so. I will instruct the cooks to avoid it until the babe arrives then.”

“It’s alright,” Y/n stroked a hand over her belly, “I would give anything to keep her happy.”

“Her?” Rhaenyra asked, settling her hand on the bump as well, “You expect a girl?”

“I do,” Y/n beamed, “I will be happy either way, but I have a feeling. I know how you long for a daughter, as well.”

Rhaenyra flushed, “You are too kind to me my love. I will be happy with our child regardless of gender, so long as they are a part of the one I love the most.”

Y/n giggled, “Do not let our husband hear you speaking like that.”

“He knows his place,” Rhaenyra chuckled, fingers wandering up to brush against the tender flesh of her breast, smirking to herself at the moan that fell from her wife’s lips at the smallest touch.

Rhaenyra turned her head, finding her maids looking bashful in the corner of the room. They had been witness to Y/n’s pleasure before, but never at the hand of one of her spouses.

“Out,” She commanded, “I will finish my wife’s bath on my own.”

They all hesitated for a moment before nodding, curtsying to both women before rushing out.

“Nyra,” Y/n scolded, “I was about to begin my “self-care”.”

“I can care for you, my heart.” The silver-haired woman cooed as she lowered her hand below the surface of the water, taking little care for the sleeve of her gown as her fingertips found the slick button between her thighs.

“It was your idea, Rhaenyra.” Her voice sounded firmer than before, and her once sleepy eyes had grown hard and accusing.

“A stupid one, I must admit,” She sighed, rubbing small circles into her clit, “I miss how insatiable you once were, how you begged for me to touch you, how you begged for our husband’s cock.”

A flash of sadness appeared on her face as sprung to her waterline, “You were tired of me, you do not want me.”

Rhaenyra stopped her movements, “What?”

A soft sob left her lips, “You asked me to take care of myself. I thought it might have been because you and Daemon were busy, but then I came to your rooms one night and–”

She didn’t need to finish for Rhaenyra to understand. She and Daemon had found it difficult to keep up with their wife’s libido, but once she had begun taking care of herself, they still had their own desires and spent many nights together. Rhaenyra felt stupid for not seeing how this would feel to their wife, let alone now that her emotions were heightened. She had not considered herself unattractive until Rhaenyra asked if she mentioned that self pleasure was beneficial for helping her bodily insecurities, only to find that she and Daemon were continuing to fuck without her on the regular.

Y/n pushed her hand away, sitting up and pulling her knees as close to her chest as her stomach would allow, “Leave me.”

“My love–”

“Please,” Her voice cracked, “Send my handmaidens in, I want to go to bed.”

“Y/n, please let me–”

“Go!” She shrieked, tears now falling down her cheeks readily as she pushed herself out of the water abruptly, “Get out!”

The door burst open, her handmaidens appearing in the room with worried expressions at the sound of their lady’s screaming. They rushed forward, helping her step out of the tub and wrapping her in her favourite silk robe.

Rhaenyra watched as she stumbled away, ignoring the water dripping from her as she crawled onto the bed, the most heart-wrenching sobs leaving her lips. The Crown Princess did not want to leave, longing to go after her and make her understand, but the guilt that began to force itself up her throat was too much to bear. Without another word, she pushed through the doorway and into the corridor, rushing to find Daemon.

Y/n did not leave her chambers for three days. She had breakfast, tea, and dinner in her rooms with no company except for her handmaidens. She refused to allow Rhaenyra or Daemon in to see her any time that they had come to visit, even when they each tried to assert their rank over her handmaidens. She was now almost seven months into her pregnancy, and she was continuously wondering to herself how she had let herself be talked into another child. She wept day and night, countless apologies leaving her lips to her late children, begging for their forgiveness and cursing Rhaenyra and Daemon for bringing her walls down so much that she had allowed herself to be in the position to potentially lose yet another child.

On the fourth day, Rhaenrya had decided that enough was enough, and used the secret passageway into her wife’s room. When she found her, she felt her heart clench in her throat, finding her still in nothing but the silk robe that she’d left her in four days earlier, curled in a ball on her favourite sofa and staring blankly out the window. How had she allowed herself to hurt the one person she loved above all else again after vowing to protect her heart with her entire being?

“My love,” Rhaenyra called out, closing the hidden door behind her. She frowned when she was met with complete silence, “My love, can you hear me?”

“What is it, Your Grace?”

Rhaenyra cringed, having only heard Y/n speak to her so formally when she was truly angry with her. “The maester told me you have not slept or eaten in two days. It is not good for the child.”

Y/n scoffed, “The babe.”

“It is not good for you, either, my love.”

Rhaenyra knelt in front of her, hands cupping her cheeks and grimacing at how cold she felt. Rhaenyra had gone to Daemon that night, her pale cheeks flushed red and wet from her tears as she paced for hours, wondering how they would be able to make things right with her–how had she let this happen? How could she make her feel unloved by the two people who loved her more than anything?

“Please look at me,” She whispered, head ducking to meet her hollow gaze. “I’m not sure how I can make you feel how deeply angry I am with myself. I am so, so sorry, my love.”

Y/n sniffled, but did not respond.

“May I explain myself?” Rhaenyra waited for her weak nod before she continued, “I did not mean to make you feel unwanted, by any means. You are sweet, and good, and beautiful, and I could never imagine a world where I would not want you. Daemon and I–we cannot excuse ourselves, but we can explain. We were concerned for you, for how often we were bedding you. The maester told us that we could hurt you, which is why I suggested what I did. I did not mean to imply that we did not want you. In fact, we wanted you so deeply that we turned to each other for the first time in so long because we thought you were more comfortable with taking care of yourself.”

Y/n shook her head, “I only did it because that’s what I thought you wanted.”

“I could never not want you, my beautiful wife.” Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to her clammy cheek.

“I must admit,” Y/n laughed bitterly, “I began to believe after some time that I had become a concubine for you both.”

“I do not think it is custom to love one’s concubine, my sweet.” Rhaenyra chuckled, then turned sombre when she took note of her expression, “My love, else bothers you?”

“I do not want to have another child,” Y/n whispered, “I feel almost as if I am betraying my boys. I will love this child with all of my heart, and nothing makes me more happy than to be tied to you both through blood, but I will not have another.”

Rhaenyra sighed, “I am sorry if you have felt pressured by us.”

“I haven’t,” She shook her head, “But I have done some thinking over the past two days. I have been happy here, and I do want this child, but I’m not sure that I can handle another. This child is a sibling, but to have two, it feels like I am replacing them, and to me they are completely irreplaceable.”

Rhaenyra kissed her head, “You will not have to. I will speak to Daemon, and the maester. We will make sure that this is your last pregnancy.”

“You don’t think that Daemon will be upset with me? He won’t want any more children?”

“If he is, then perhaps we would need to rethink how many people we want in this marriage, don’t you think?”

This made Y/n giggle, and it was like music to Rhaenyra’s ears. She finally leaned into her, wrapping her arms around Rhaenyra’s middle and nuzzling into her neck. Rhaenyra gladly held her, running her fingers through her hair affectionately as she began to notice her breathing grow heavier.

“You must be tired, my sweet,” Rhaenyra turned her head to look at her, “Why don’t you have a bath while I go find you some supper, then you can rest.”

“Will you stay with me while I sleep?” She murmured.

Rhaenyra kissed her lips softly, “Of course I will.”

When Y/n woke up, Rhaenyra was still at her side, her long fingers stroking Y/n’s swollen belly over her thin nightgown.

“Good morning, my love,” She greeted with a small smile.

“Evening, you mean,” Y/n had not even noticed that Daemon had occupied the space behind her in the bed until he spoke up, his own hand reaching around to lay on top of Rhaenyra’s on her belly.

Y/n leaned back into him, sighing at the warmth being emitted from his firm chest, “How long was I sleeping?”

“Almost a day,” He kissed her temple to soothe her as she cried out in surprise, “But you needed it.”

“It’s true,” Rhaenyra affirmed, “You were awake for two days straight. I’ll call your ladies, you must be starving.”

“I am,” Y/n trailed a finger up her arm, “But not for food.”

Rhaenyra shook her head as Daemon chuckled at their wife, “My love, you are very weak right now–”

“Neither of you have touched me in almost two months,” She whined, “Please.”

The two Targaryens shared a glance over her shoulder, Daemon shrugging in response to Rhaenyra’s concerned look.

“Alright,” She finally conceded, “But you must lie there, let us take care of you.”

The woman eagerly nodded, excited whimpers falling from her lips from the slightest drag of Daemon’s lips against her jugular, his fingers pulling the strap of her nightgown down over her shoulder to expose one of her tender breasts. Rhaenyra was quick to pull her into a kiss, tongue forcing itself past her wife’s lips and swallowing every sound she made, her nimble fingers twisting her perky nipple gently.

Everything moved in a blur for Y/n over the next few moments, somehow finding herself now on her back, knees bent as her nightgown was rucked up to settle over her swollen belly, Rhaenyra wasting little time in dragging her tongue torturously through her folds, which had already been dripping with her sweet nectar from the moment that she had woken up. Her cheeks felt warm, embarrassed at how sensitive and wet she’d been before either of them even touched her and at how quickly she was able to feel herself at her peak.

At her side, Daemon was needy for her attention. He tucked two fingers under her chin, quickly turning her head to capture her lips in a warm and messy kiss. Her own eager fingers quickly found the laces of his breeches, tugging at them until they were just loose enough to slide her hand inside and take hold of his rapidly hardening member, their sighs of pleasure being lost in one another’s mouths as she slowly pumped him until he was completely hard, whining in protest as he pushed her touch away.

“Patience, sweet one,” He tsked at her, instead turning his attention to suckling at her breasts, tugging her other strap down to release both of her heaving tits to his mercy.

The wave crashed over her before she could comprehend it, eyes rolling back as neither of them made any move to slow or stop their ministrations as they each licked and sucked at her most sensitive parts until she was trembling with aftershocks.

“Do you think she is ready for me?” Daemon peered down at Rhaenyra, who had continued to lick at her clit softly.

She grinned up at him, “More than she’s ever been.”

He chuckled, reaching his hand down to feel her wetness for himself with a wicked glint in his eyes, “Perhaps we should deprive our needy little wife more often if it means she will always be this responsive.”

Rhaenyra frowned, “You are bold to assume that either of us will be able to resist for so long ever again, husband. I’m certain that I can’t.”

“Perhaps I merely need to be reminded, I may not have my wits about me.”

Within seconds, his clothes had been completely removed and was was dragging her by the ankles until her bum was hanging off the edge of the mattress and he was pressed tightly between her legs. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra had helped her slide her shift off over her head, leaving her completely bare to her husband and wife.

Her back arched off of the bed as Daemon notched the head of his member against her entrance, easily slipping inside with a drawn out moan, eyes closed as he relished in the feeling of her silky walls throbbing around him.

“See how he desires you?” Rhaenyra whispered to her, “You make him weak, he belongs to you. We belong to you.”

She nodded, watching in awe as Rhaenyra’s slender neck was engulfed by their husband’s fingers, his meaty fist forcing her to meet his hard kiss as his spare hand slid beneath Y/n’s hip and flipped her onto her side, barely missing a beat as he threw her top leg over his shoulder and sped up his thrusts.

Rhaenyra grinned into the kiss, reaching up to slide her middle and index fingers into her wife’s mouth, slowly thrusting them in and out until they were dripping with her saliva. Carefully, she moved them down and began circling them around her untouched hole, feeling the snug ring of muscles tighten and release under her touch. The sloppy juices of her release had dripped down and provided an extra lubricant as one of her long fingers dipped inside, stilling for a few moments to allow her to adjust to the intrusion before she pressed the second in as well. Her movements were slow, not wanting to force the tightness of her ass and further than she already was, especially with the force of Daemon’s thrusts into sweet cunt.

Mere moments passed before her second release began bursting out of her core and splashing against Daemon’s stomach, the warmth of her juices bringing him to his own climax. She allowed him to keep forcing himself into her abused hole before she was pressing her foot flat into his shoulder to push him away.

“Look at her,” Rhaenyra murmured to him, smirking down at her wife’s trembling body, “Look at how needy she is for us. We belong to her, but she is ours alone.”

Daemons slowly allowed his cock to slide out of her, falling down to poke at her asshole as Rhaenyra pulled her fingers out. The future queen slid from the mattress, disappearing out of Y/n’s sight as Daemon huddled overtop of her, pressing warm kisses across her neck and chest. He pulled back as Rhaenyra reappeared next to her, wiping her hands clean with a wet cloth before she made quick work of wiping the pregnant woman’s sensitive cunt clean as Daemon readjusted his breeches as she moved across the room to sit by the burning fireplace.

Rhaenyra helped her wife move back up to lay against her pillows, tucking her in beneath the soft sheets. She crawled in next to her, pressing her lips to her forehead and chuckling when Rhaenyra felt her tugging at her skirts.

“I am alright, my heart,” She pushed her hands away, “You should rest. We will call for your supper.”

Y/n nodded, a touch disappointed that she hadn’t been able to taste her wife’s delicious cunt, but her sadness faded as she felt her eyes fluttering shut, lulling her into a deep sleep as she huddled closer to Rhaenyra’s chest.

#reader insert #x reader #imagines #house of the dragon spoilers #house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd rhaenyra #rhaenyra is a gay icon #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra #daemon targeryan #daemon x reader

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iovesia · 8 months

Text

✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐒.

bodyguard!john wick⠀x⠀bratty!spoiled!fem!reader.

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. being notorious for your spoiled, bratty behavior— you have successfully scared off your all previous bodyguards. but you’re stumped when this one just won’t quit.

—⠀੭୧⠀warnings⠀· ˚ ༘⠀large age gap. hyperfem!reader. reader is a bitch. mean!john. oral (m!receiving). dubious consent. brat taming. size kink. face slapping. 2.4k words.

𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐, 𝒋𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒆 ִֶָ 𓂃 ⊹ for all my hyperfem!reader enthusiasts— this one's for you! i lowkey hate this but i haven't posted a fic in ages ohmygod and i also started school so i might be less active..

#. keanu reeves masterlist. | main masterlist. | request rules.

NO.

It was the one word that was not in your vocabulary.

“No. My decision is final.”

Unfortunately, it was your father’s favorite.

“Daddy, this is so unfair!” You squeal like a petulant child, hot on your father’s trail as he walks through the lavish penthouse which you reside in. Your heels hitting the marble floors reverberate along with your high pitched whining. “I don’t need a babysitter!”

“Bodyguard.” Your father corrects.

“Same difference!” Your father lets out an exhausted sigh at your complaints, rubbing his eyes with his ring-adorned finger. The wrinkles on his face are prominent, displaying his ageing stress. “I can handle myself! I’m not a child anymore!”

“You behave like one!” Your father snaps. “It’s how you’ve managed to scare off the last two bodyguards. So help me God, if this one quits too, there’s going to be mayhem. You hear me, young lady?”

Your soft features contort into a nasty grimace when your father points his finger in your face. Resisting the urge to stomp your Dior, pink heel —ergo proving your father’s point— you let out a defeated scoff. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” Your father gives you a tight lipped smile. “Jesus, you’re just like your mother. God forbid things don’t go your way.” You try to ignore the sting in your heart at your father’s callous words, the venom in his tone as he refers cruelly to his ex-wife, and your mother.

You clear your throat, quickly wishing to change the topic. “Who even is this guy?!”

“His name’s John Wick. He’s highly specialised in martial arts, firearms, and other weaponry. He also has military experience—”

“So basically, you hired The Terminator?” You interject, snapping your gum loudly in between your lip gloss covered lips. “I still don’t understand why the hell he’s here. None of my friends have old bodyguards following them!”

“Your friends are also not daughters of a mob boss,” your father replied bluntly, his patience wearing as thin as his greying hair. Before you could conjure another witty retort— the doorbell rings through the apartment. You follow close behind your father, eyes shooting daggers into the back of his skull when he walks into the entrance area.

The penthouse was adorned with gold trim and marble floors, along with glimmering chandeliers hanging from the tall ceilings, accentuating your father’s immense wealth— your silver platter prison as you liked to call.

“Christ, give me strength,” Your father mumbles under his breath.

“It’s John, isn’t it?”

“I pray it is.”

“If he’s short, bald and old like the last one— I’m going to freak out,” you hold your hands up defensively, briefly admiring your manicured french tip nails. You pride yourself on your appearance— if you’re not complaining and bitching, you’re spending daddy’s credit card on all things girly and pink.

The door slowly opens. From the bottom of your new bodyguard’s Oxford shoes, you eye him up past his lean body under his tight black suit— accentuating his buff arms and chest, up to his slicked back black hair and piercing dark eyes. You stare in slight disbelief at the man ahead, who towered over you.

“Meet John. Your new bodyguard.”

AS ATTRACTIVE AND BROODING as your new bodyguard was, he was also quiet.

Too quiet.

Unlike your previous bodyguards, John was as still as stone, completely unresponsive to any of your nasty quips, bitchy comments or snarky commands. You were lucky to receive even a word of acknowledgement, let alone a sentence.

He was your silent shadow, always standing eerily close by wherever you went. At the mall. At clubs. At the library. Even when you go to public restrooms, he stands waiting outside the door, embarrassingly dragging attention to the both of you.

“Seriously?” You grumble to yourself, adjusting your pink tennis skirt as you walk out of the ladies restroom. The older man merely looks down on you, his unreadable expression only pissing you off more.

“It’s my job.”

That was his famous catchphrase. Like a broken record, or a poor man’s Princess Bride— it was his automated response for any of your complaints. It’s his job.

You huff, tongue in cheek as you lean against the doorframe of the kitchen, watching the brooding bodyguard read a book. John’s leaning against the back of the chair, his arm resting on the countertop of the kitchen island, his veiny hand holding the book upwards as he takes a sip of coffee with his other. The palpable silence was too much for you to bear. You’ve had enough. You needed a reaction out of him— anything— literally anything other than this monotonous apathy.

Your hips sway side to side as you stroll over to John, his attention unwavering from his book. You clench your jaw, tapping your nails on the marble countertop. You take a seat next to him, and lift your leg up, resting your foot on his thigh.

Shockingly, he raises a brow— but still doesn’t look at you.

“Lace up my heels,” you demand, a smug smile on your lips, gently digging the heel of your shoe into his thigh. But he doesn’t twitch. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t even produce a sound of pain.

“You’re not a child, you can do it yourself,” his voice is low, and raspy as he clears his throat. John flips to the next page of his book and your brows stitch together, a small frown etching on your lips.

“Lace up my heels, Jack,” you repeat firmly, the taunt in your voice disappearing as you purposefully get his name wrong.

“John.”

“Whatever.”

John’s attention to his stupid book never faltered, and your annoyance boiled like bile in your chest. Clearly you’d have to try a little bit harder. You remove your foot off his lap, and let out a purposefully loud sigh.

“I’m your boss, John,” you say mockingly, “you better do what I say.”

“Your father is my boss,” his tone is painfully monotonous, if he was anyhow irritated with your bratty behaviour— he didn’t show it. “I work for him.”

There’s another tense silence casted upon the door, and you huff, jumping off your seat before storming out of the kitchen. Blinded by your temper tantrum, you missed the older man’s leering eyes on your ass as you walked away.

YOU WERE FUMING.

A whole month.

A whole thirty days he’s been your bodyguard, and you still have not managed to find out what made John Wick tick. His silent, stoic demeanour seemed impenetrable to your girlish, spoiled wit. John has bested your previous guards by the duration of his stay— most, if not all of them would have packed their bags by this point.

The sun beamed on your soft skin, exposed by the skimpy pink bikini that barely covered your breasts and left little to the imagination. Lying across the sunbed next to the glistening infinity pool, the sun suddenly disappears from your face, and you open your eyes to see John hovering over you.

“Move, you’re blocking the sun,” You roll your eyes, pulling your Cartier sunglasses above your head.

“Get dressed.”

You furrow your brows in confusion at his command.

“Your father says there’s a gala in a few hours, your attendance is mandatory.” John affirms his previous command, before he stalks away from you, his long legs carrying him far as he re-enters the penthouse. Immediately, you sit up from your sunbed, not bothering to cover your skimpy figure with a towel as you chase him.

“I don’t take orders from the help.”

“But, you do take orders from your father,” John quips, quirking a brow as he turns to face you, his staggeringly tall body looming over you. “Get dressed.”

“I don’t take orders from you, I’m not going!” You sneer, and when you attempt to walk past John, his large arm wraps around your forearm, gently but firmly pulling you backwards in front of him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused. Get. Dressed.”

“Get fucked, how about that?” You retort, scoffing at his audacity to tell you what to do. “I don’t take orders from the butler.” Roughly tugging your arm back, you take a challenging step closer and you can feel the warmth radiating from his suit covered body.

“Bodyguard.”

“Oh, please— you’re a glorified babysitter,” you chuckle incredulously. “All that military experience is probably a load of crap— I have half a mind to get my daddy to fire you!”

“I have half a mind to shut that mouth of yours,” John’s low voice has goosebumps swimming across your skin. He finally cracked, and now you were just waiting for the pieces to come apart. John takes a step forward, closing the distance as his chest nearly touches yours.

“What did you just say to me?” You speak quietly, your confidence slowly decreasing. A small, devious scowl creeping on his face. “I said: what did you just—”

Your words die in your throat when a sudden hand clutches your jaw, fingers digging into your cherub cheeks. A weak gasp comes out, as John pulls you closer, your exposed stomach and barely-covered breasts pressing against his lean body. His stubbled face leans down, your noses almost touch as he whispers: “I think it’s time you got a taste of your own medicine.”

“GET ON YOUR KNEES.”

Jaw dropped.

“What?”

“You heard me,” John rests against the back of the leather couch, sitting as his legs manspreading with his elbows resting on the leather couch pillows. You stood like a deer in headlights in front of him, hands on your hips, looking down at him. “Get on your knees.”

“I’m not gonna do that, are you out of your mind?!” You squeal, offendedly. John merely licks his bottom lip, his eyes focused on your hips, and thighs. “You are so fired, John! I’m telling my dad!”

“Go ahead, let your precious daddy know you made another one of his staff quit..” John shrugs nonchalantly, scratching his beard. “Your father will be pissed, and will probably cut you off.. And then who will pay for those little bikinis?”

You kiss your teeth, lips pursed as your leg bounces anxiously. He was right.

“Asshole,” you hiss under your breath as you lower yourself down to the ground, your knees scratching against the rough carpet. His penetrating stare made you sweat, a chill tingling down your spine. God, you wished you had taken that towel with you. John’s voyeuristic gaze trailed from your breasts that barely fit in your bikini top, down the curves of your hips to the swell of your ass.

“Come here,” he says slowly.

Reluctantly, you abide his words, and your hands and knees graze the carpet as you crawl over to John— like an obedient little puppy. Sitting on the heels of your foot, you rest your palm on your thighs, an exasperated huff flaring through your nose.

“You are a spoiled little girl, you know that?”

You roll your eyes.

Suddenly, pain blooms in your left cheek as a firm hand smacks across your face— not enough to hurt, but enough to shoot down your attitude, making you mewl. “Ow!”

“Aw.. did that hurt?” John leans forward, his warm breath hitting your face as you look up at him, batting your long lashes. His fingers digging into your cheeks again, holding you in place. “You want me to kiss it better?”

Your face flushes at his question, as you roll your shoulders back. The diva inside you was screaming when you nodded— but you didn’t care. You eyed the older man hungrily, the sting on your cheek had you rubbing your thighs together. Unfortunately, John noticed.

“That’s too bad.” Pushing your face away, he leans back against the couch. John subtly spreads his knees further apart, signalling you to his shiny belt buckle. Eyeing the older man hungrily, the pads of your fingers touch the cool metal as you undo his belt.

His lowered slacks reveal his flushed, hardened cock, with pre-cum already leaking from the red tip. Your hand shakily wrapped around his shaft, your whole hand unable to fit around his full girth. You stroke him gently as his lips part, a soft groan escaping. You swallow nervously, his cock throbbing in your hand when you halt your hand. Spit gathering into a small glob on your lips before stretching down onto his mushroom tip. The saliva made your movements smoother, and more confident.

“I know that mouth does more than complain,” John taunts, his large hand softly caressing the back of your head when he edges your face closer to his thick shaft. Your mouth waters as you wrap your glossy lips around his cock, your tongue flat against his tip, the salty pre-cum satisfying your tastebuds.

Relaxing your jaw to adjust to his size, you lower your head, his cock nudging against the back of your throat. Whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth, your hands covered, massaging the base of his cock. John grits his teeth, swallowing a groan as you begin bobbing up and down his cock. John’s hand is heavier on the back of your hand, forcing you lower on his cock till your nose is buried in his short, curly pubes— making you gag loudly.

“Does the spoiled brat need some air?” John chuckles raspily, his hand clutching your hair, pulling you back off his cock. A thick line of saliva dribbles down your chin, lips puffy as tears brim your waterline. Your jaw ached, but your tongue was desperate for more. His thumb swipes against your bottom lip, wiping away the pre-cum and spit, before shoving his thumb into your mouth. The pad of his thumb presses down on your tongue, and you gag once again.

“Spent the last month dealing with your little attitude problem,” John eyes squinted into slits, repeatedly patting your face with his other hand. “I think a little appreciation is in check.”

Like a cockdrunk doll, you nod ditzily as he switches his thumb out for the tip of his shaft.

Your father was surprised to see you wearing jeans the next day, as they covered those little bruises on your knees.

john wick taglist : @hamburgerslippers @alwaysinblck @emosludge @nwheregirl @beansricejc @sughcashsaiki @namjoons-crabssss @scream-queen-25 @slutforsoldierboy @hamburgerslippers @redhotelroom. @hearteyedbambi @ilovedilfs4ever @aerangi @spacemonkeyfitz

let me know if you wish to be added/removed ♡

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #john wick x reader #john wick imagine #john wick #john wick smut #keanu reeves smut #nsfw.josie #bodyguard au

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bigbadvoxbox · 2 months

Note

Hi, I would like to ask for a smut from Adam x fem Reader, he takes Lucifer's wife so he can get back at Lucifer I love your posts

THANKS ANON

warnings: previous lucifer x reader. unprotected sex (don't do this). degradation if you squint? like a brief mix of both degradation and praise.

- Lucifer's pretty ex-wife, almost looking more like an angel than a demon, which was one thing that Adam found pretty appealing. The attractive appearance, with the subtle demonic features? Badass. He was into it.

- Puts his plan into action. He knows usually he can get any girl he wants, he's fucking Adam, but you're gonna be special. You were Lucifer's bitch (affectionately), so he wants to make this BIG.

- He plays it real cool. Lucifer almost hands you over himself, sending you to a meeting Adam had requested instead of showing up himself. This was the second time Lucifer had bailed like this now, what a little bitch. He can't help but feel lucky that even after splitting, you were still on okay enough terms for Lucifer to ask you such a favour.

- You have a little chat, and he plays a few harmless little jokes on you. It's been a while since you've laughed this way, and you confide in Adam that Lucifer wasn't the most social. You missed him. He stayed locked away in his room, and you got a small "hi, sweetheart" now and again, but it just wasn't the same. Not compared to how he used to hold you in his arms, sing songs to you, like a fairytale type of love. You missed that. Which was why you left him.

- Adam couldn't help but scoff at this, he should've expected as much from Lucifer.

- "Y'know, he missed out on some good shit. You're a fuckin' hottie. I don't know what he was doing ignoring a babe like you." He says. It's meant to be... comforting? Maybe? In his own way. You're a little confused, but also a little flattered?

- You two start to gossip like friends would, and you become more comfortable with the man sitting a few seats away from you, completely forgetting about the business portion of this meeting (a.k.a. the bullshit Adam made up to even get the meeting in the first place).

- He brags about himself a bit, and you can't help but find it the littlest bit charming, in a funny way. He talks about his band, how he "fuckin' shreds like a badass" on the guitar, and how the fangirls go crazy for him.

- "I'm not too interested in them though. I have my eye on someone else. I mean- yeah, they're cute 'n all, but nothing compared to this one chick I've been thinkin' about lately. She's somethin' real special." he explains.

- "A cute little lady whose shitty ex-husband left her feelin' so lonely... and unsatisfied too, I bet."

- That's when you catch on, taking notice of the subtle flirtatious smirk that plays on his lips. You feel your cheeks burn the slightest bit, and you turn your head away, a bit speechless.

- Adam knows he has you now.

- A few sweet words later, and steps closer that you didn't even really seem to notice him taking, too busy focusing on his (slightly vulgar) flattery, you now feel each other's breath against your faces. The moment is tense, and his lips, now exposed after he removed his mask, ghosting over yours.

- The mask was quite the reveal. But you had to admit, he was not at all bad looking. He wasn't exceptional, but he didn't need to be. You liked him just the way he was. In this small meeting he had shown you more kindness and attention than your husband had in a while.

- One thing led to the next. A flirtatious glance, a gentle brush against each other's hand, and next thing you know, you're laying on your back on the meeting table, Adam between your legs, his lips on your neck.

- He can't help but leave you absolutely covered in hickeys. It's nice to be possessive over something. Someone who's his now. He finally turned the tables on Lucifer, and that thought can't help but bring a smug grin to his face.

- When he was joking around earlier, calling himself the "dick master" you thought he was kidding.

He was not.

- He fucking pounds you into the table, one hand on your waist, the other on your tits, feelin' you up and teasin' you to get you all flustered. He wonders how long it's been since you felt this good, but don't worry, he'll make you forget all about that.

- He can't deny that you feel (ironically enough) fucking heavenly. It's like he can't get enough of it. Not only is the sex itself amazing, he just can't get enough of the victorious feeling of getting back at Lucifer.

- Trust me when I say he has you SCREAMING. He's so fucking glad he didn't use the hologram, instead taking the risk of going down to Hell himself, just for the opportunity to feel that cunt on his cock.

- "That's a good fuckin' bitch."

- He honestly can't even quite help the filth that just comes out of his mouth so naturally, his language vulgar but.. kinda hot?

- He can't help but cum inside you and fill you up, groaning a drawn out "Fuck yes." as he hovers over you on the table.

- He's pretty happy with his new badass demon bitch by his side, and his visits to Hell on "business" become a lot more frequent. The business in question is just him fucking you in every possible position, leaving you covered in hickeys, kisses, and bite marks. You're all his now. Suck it, Lucifer.

THATS IT

it's almost 4 am so this is not at all proofread

so if it's shit

i'm sorry

edit: the cheating part made me feel bad so i switched it up

#hazbin hotel #voxbox #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel adam #adam smut #hazbin hotel adam smut #adam x reader

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igotanidea · 5 days

Text

Just right: Anthony Bridgerton x reader

part 1 to too much

part 2 : not enough

part 3 : almost there

part 4: Stuck

A/N: I am NOT sorry for all the possible spellings and punctuation mistakes there. It's been almost 2 months since "Stuck" and I am FREAKING OUT posting this while crying because it's over. Enjoy and thank you <3

Warnings: end of series, 4082 words (!!)

***

He felt like a fool.

Reverting to his old ways instead of showing all the emotions coursing through his veins.

Turning around and walking away, leaving her alone, when all he wanted was to fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness.

But how would the viscount Bridgerton look, while doing so, observed by all the ton, including the two biggest gossipers in the person of lady Featherington and lady Danburry?

Seemed like whatever he would choose to do, he would end up being a dolt.

“Anthony!”

He didn’t even flinch hearing someone calling him, nor recognize the voice. Too stubborn to stop he only continued his marching pace, hoping for the love of god that whoever dared to try and approach him in this furibund mood would get discouraged.

Not very gentlemanly of him.

“Anthony!”

He quickened his pace.

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“What?” he almost spat spinning around on his heel, leaving a dent in the ground, taking on his most stern expression. If his obvious ignorance of the caller was not a deterrent perhaps the frown and fiery eyes would.

Supposedly it might have worked on anyone else, but soon enough Anthony transformed from the head of a family and the viscount into a little child, upon noticing that it was his mother, exhorting him to the halt.

“Mother…” he muttered looking at the ground, having only confirmed his previous theory of his role in this entire disarray.

“Let us take a walk.” Violet smiled brightly taking her eldest’s arm and imposing a walking rather than soldierly pace. “What did you Anthony?” the gentle expression never left her face even when she was scoffing her unmanageable child.

“Why would you think it was me that--?” the viscount took the last resort to protect his own pride, but the tightening grip on his forearm betrayed the fact that Violet knew the entire backstory, behind the marital disagreement.

“I raised you. I daresay it gives me enough knowledge to not answer your question. “

“If you let me –"

“Don’t, Anthony. Y/N has been nothing less but charming since the beginning.. "

"That's the way to describe her--" the man muttered

"Strong-willed and persuasive, surely, you wouldn’t take anything but, but charming nonetheless. So do tell me so we could remedy the damage before it arises further.”

“Shall you mistake me for Daphne and ask about my feelings—”

“Anthony Bridgerton!”

“I am a man, mother. A head of the family.”

“Clearly said head has been missing guidance in the right direction.”

“Mother!”

“Do not raise your voice on me son.”

“Apologies…”

“Good.” Violet beamed serenely “Do you think me so little knowledgeable to ask your emotions? I do not. I’m merely asking for facts, which you clearly have such a strong inclination to.”

Anthony mumbled something once more.

“do you wish you lose your wife, viscount?”

“What?” such possibility never crossed his mind. Y/N’s anger, her hurt, pain and merciless avoidance – yes. Abandonment and lack of her presence nearby? No. She would never… She could never. Lord above, who was she thinking she was? A woman married into a noble family wanting to cause a scandal by resenting her husband?

And once again, while his heart should have been shattered and humble enough to clarify the turmoil, the sudden blood rush turned into clenched fists and ire. All because he could not bare the thought of losing her for good, however hiding behind all the negativity was easier. It was something he was used to for years.

Nevertheless it was impossible to deny the facts further. It was her influence that caused the improbable openness in his soul was the exact same reason of his spirit bleeding.

And he needed her back.

Each minute without her was a minute lost. A minute less in the so very limited time they were given as a miracle on earth.

“What do I do?” he raised gaze at his mother, now truly looking like a lost man. Man in love, who was probably not the most romantic and gentle one with words, but still deeply infatuated with the woman who gave her whole life to him.

“Do not fret my dear. We shall alleviate the situation immediately.”

***

Y/N’s feelings were beyond anything possible to describe with words.

There she was, with her feet rooted to the ground, wishing for – and willing to accept – apologies but met with the harsh reality of the stone wall of Anthony’s behavior.

Accompanied by Eloise, smirking like the know-it-all she was, and Benedict with the compassion written all over his face.

Presumably, shall they not be there, the young lady viscountess Bridgerton would abandon all the pretenses of a woman of her position and begun blubbering in the middle of the promenade. However, the most mischievous of Bridgerton siblings acted with wit and sense, involving their dear sister-in-law in a challenging conversation, capably hauling her away from prying eyes and gossipmongers, preventing any possible rumors about incongruousness.

***

For unmistakable reasons she was not in the mood to see their ludicrous older brother and with the sudden disappearance of Violet, Benedict and Eloise took the privilege to invite Y/N back to the Bridgerton’s family house and extend the invitation for indefinite period of time. After all, Anthony might have been the head of the family as he proudly announced to anyone who was willing to disobey his wished and/or not listen, but Benedict was the oldest bachelor of the house and was more than willing to make a few decisions of his own to finally be seen as something more than merely second son and waiting for his time.

***

Violet returned home few hours later and accepted the presence of her daughter-in-law with a mysterious smile and not a single word of objection. As amazing and uplifting as such approach might have been, it was also highly surprising. Viscountess Bridgerton was well known for her mitigating skills and tendency to scotch conflicts almost immediately, especially in her own family.

And it raised a lot of questions and secrets that Y/N and Eloise tried to uncover spending the night in the former’s bedchambers, talking for hours, creating conspiracy theories and preparing for whatever may have been coming.

Cause the fact that Violet was going to help her oldest son in winning back his wife’s attention was more than conspicuous.

Only that Y/N, who was forgiving and accepting at the begging was slowly turning cold at the fact that her husband could not simply apologize but rather resorted to some intricate ways of regaining her favor.

After a year of marriage, should he not know her enough for independent ideas and not seek his mother's avail?

***

First thing happening in the very early morning, was Y/N’s most trusted servant humbly asking for her lady’s time, which was bizarre and – as any other family may have deemed – inadequate and even shaming.

Moreover, any other house would quickly discard the commoner showing at the mighty's doorstep but Bridgertons were prone to discarding rules in private and with those who earned their trust. Be it servants or nobles. And Y/N was no exception to the rule, welcoming her maid with a smile upon seeing the person from her own household.

“My lady.” The girl bowed so low, she almost touched the floor with her nose.

“My dear Laura, please stand up, there is really no need for that-“ Y/N grabbed her hands and forced the girl up. “I assure you that-“

“But Lady Violet and Miss Bridgerton –“

“I assure you that they do not expect you to kiss the ground they walk on.” Y/n almost laughed at Laura’s discombobulation. Poor one was doing everything in her power to not make her lady embarrassed and act like a good and obedient servant, almost expecting Violet or Eloise to be cruel and judgmental.

“Dear Y/N, did you give your helpers the idea that we are some sort of tyrants?” Violet send her daughter-in-law a honest smile, which immediately got Laura’s reaction in the form of blushing.

“Lady Bridgerton I apologies if my appearance is the dishonor on-”

She didn’t even finish the sentence, met with Y/N, Violet’s and Eloise’s laugh and a polite look from more balanced Francesca sitting on the chaise longue.

“Do not fret, my girl, we are more than happy to welcome you in our household.”

“Tha-thank you my lady…”

‘Now I assume you came to talk to your lady, so we shall give you some privacy. Come girls, make haste for the matter to cover is of utmost delicacy.”

“And how shall you know it mamma?” Hyacinth almost twitched her ears, not really understanding much of why Y/N was with them rather than with Antony, but curious as a young girl could be.

“Precisely mamma, how shall you know?” Eloise, immediately picked up her sister’s question, only not so susceptible to extenuations.

“Eloise Bridgerton, I shall expect you to practice the bowing before your incoming debut in front of the queen. Daphne made quite an impression and –“

“Daphne was deemed diamond of the season and such title is below my ambition.”

“Regardless, you do not want to trip or slip do you?”

Eloise (and everyone else) obviously remembered what happened to Featherington’s sisters and the embarrassment so with a heavy, exaggerated sigh and one quick, sharp, bright look at Y/N Eloise left the room, followed by her mother and sisters.

And once the lady and her trusted eyes and ears of the house were alone, who could stop the two of turning a lot more unmindful of societal norms?

“My lady, the lord has been quite annoyed since the quarrel you lordships have had. He even refused to eat his favorite meal.” Laura confessed with blushing cheeks

“Are you to tell me that Prescott prepared the roasted pork for Anthony after he was so unjust towards the lady of the house? I shall have a word about a loyalty with him upon my return.” Y/N satirized wholeheartedly.

“When shall you return my lady? Seeing as that viscount is not the one to have a change of heart and admit his wrongdoing easily?”

“He will Laura. One way or another I am fairly convinced my husband may take a long way to do so and take the aid of his mother whilst deciding. It’s just I am not fully convinced if the apology made with cheating are worth accepting.”

“Oh! You took the lower route here my lady forgive the audacity.”

“Just the route of a woman who expect honesty from her man.”

“Fair enough I suppose. But shall you be agitated my lady I take it you do not wish to accept the viscount bestowment?”

“Bestowment?” Y/N frowned a little in confusion “and what shall that be?”

“I do not know, my lady. I am merely a messenger—”

“I believed you to be on my side Laura.”

“And I am, my lady! But one do not object the command of the lord, that is clearly ready to vent his anger on the first soul that happen to be unfortunate enough to be around.”

“My god, you are a prattler!” Y/N laughed “where is that gift in question? Cause since it is mine either way we might as well get a little curious, shall we? Would be such a shame to put it to waste.”

Laura stood up from her chair and started heading to the corridor, but Hyacynth was first to barge into the room carrying some parcel that was almost bigger than her.

“Y/N! Is this that gift from Anthony!?” clearly she was eavesdropping “Can we take a look, please? It’s so big I wonder what it is? Come on, open it up! Open it up!”

“Curiosity killed the cat.” Eloise muttered but there was no denying she was equally curious as her sister.

Y/N only rolled her eyes, inviting all the girls over and opening the box. Fishing out the most beautiful and definitely expensive new dress. The color was perfectly matching Y/N’s complexion and the material delicate yet durable – Anthony knew his wife and her adventurous tendencies.

“It’s so beautiful and elegant” Francesca whispered touching the dress with delight.

“So what, he think he can just buy her the garment and she will forgive him?” Eloise scoffed “Men are so simple minded and belittling of women!”

“Try it on, Y/N!” Hyacinth encouraged, almost jumping from excitement

“Do not try it on! This would be relenting!” Eloise objected.

“He made a gesture!”

“It’s not a gesture! It’s an attempt of buying her forgiveness!”

“Y/N!”

“Y/N?!”

“Quiet!” Y/N finally managed to break through the noise of two sisters. ““No offence girls, but this is my marriage and my decision. One I have to make by myself. So thank you “ she smiled brightly but with a hint of annoyance “for your positions on things, but I am perfectly capable of weighting the significance of the gift, on my conviction to forgive or not forgive him.”

“Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!” “Uhm. My lady” Laura cleared her throat “I’d like to elaborate that the viscount also made an invitation to one special place….”

“Do not go Y/N!”

“Stop interfering Eloise! Y/N you have to go!”

“For heaven’s sake, Violet is truly a saint for surviving you two!”

***

Anthony was waiting for her in the garden outside some estate she had no idea existed. After all, Y/N has spent her entire life in London, rarely being invited to the cottage. And in this case it could have been used a leverage, not that he was aiming for measuring forces and cold calculation.

No.

He was walking back and forth, almost trampling a path in the ground in a place where it should never be. Nervous enough to anxiously fiddle with his fingers like a lady before her debut entering the society. Hoping she would come. Wishing for any entity in heaven might want to listen that she would take this dress he send her as an expression of humility rather than boosting like a rooster. Praying that Eloise wasn’t there with her sharp tongue and unrestrained thoughts to discourage his beloved from accepting both the gift and the invitation.

The minutes turned to hours and even his father’s pocket watch refused to work with Anthony in this important moment. Having no regard to the poor flowers any other plants standing no chances against his heavy riding boots, the time seemed to stand still.

For whatever it was worth it, Anthony Bridgerton swore to himself that he would rather turn into a sack of boned waiting in this desolate place than walk away while there was still a glimmer of hope she might appear. He was done and fatigued with missed opportunities, poorly chosen and ill-spoken words.

It was never his intention to said all those atrocious words to her.

Too much.

Dear Lord.

Now that he was thinking about it, his heart was capering in a way that filled him with self-hatred. After all the pain he might have caused her during that little hurtful exchange while she did nothing more than be there for him. Even if he not exactly wished for it. Even if he himself didn’t know that her presence in his life was the best thing that happened since his father’s death. If not since forever.

Anthony wasn’t the one to believe in signs or any spiritual influence on earth, but the more he was dwelling on his own misery, the more deliberative of their first meeting he was becoming.

It was late lord Bridgerton’s death anniversary and as any other year – he separated himself from the rest of the family. To show how adamant his heart and mind was and to underline that this was nothing more than just another day in a line of any other similar ones. But the truth was, he wanted to visit his father’s grave alone without any possible disturbances or havoc that his younger siblings could have caused. None of them really knew Edmund Bridgerton the way Anothony did. The first born son, the heir to the title, deprived of his father’s guidance and presence and forced to take responsibility for the family in way too young age.

He needed to be by himself, cause god forbid anyone seeing him showing any signs of humanity and indulging in grief.

And his family knew and accepted it.

She didn’t.

Just a stranger, strolling by herself in the area, looking like a commoner, having no regards to the sanctity of the moment nor the place she found herself in.

And worse for her – spotting Anthony in the never-seen moment of vulnerability written all over his face.

“Lord Bridgerton” she bowed in a way that showed that the savage, Anthony took her for, actually had manners. And that he knew him, but this was not so unexpected.

He only grunted in response to annoyed by an unfortunate set of circumstances that worked against her. The viscount himself was not going to bow to a girl that was clearly a servant, with messy hair and in a dress that was far from anything a woman, even of lower position should be seen in.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to be, girl?” he muttered under his nose, throwing daggers with his eyes.

“I’m sorry my lord but-“

“You should be sorry. I am convinced your lady nor your lord will be pleased with the fact that their service wanders alone in an area that does not belong to them!”

“Service?” Y/N smirked looking at him with amusement and twinkling eyes. And Anthony with his youthful energy and virility could not miss the fact that she was actually pretty.

“Yes, service.” He hissed at her “now get out of here girl, before you get yourself in far more trouble from me and end up on the street!”

“I shall-“ she obviously was not going to let anyone maltreat her like that, but her acuity wore up that very moment. She noticed the weariness in viscount’s eyes, noticed the monument nearby, and realized what day of the month it was.

“Forgive me, my lord.” She bowed in respect “I shall be on my way. And I shall not mention this meeting to anyone, hopefully wishing for you to forget my impertinence.”

She was gone as fast as she appeared, and Anthony thought to never see her again.

Until the next rout Daphne was attending, where he actually did.

Immediately realizing the scope of his previous mistake, upon learning that the service girl was in fact Miss Y/L/N, the youngest daughter of Lord Y/L/N. And met with another look of those glistening eyes and amused face expression. Forced to accompany her for the evening, since apparently Lady Bridgerton and Lady Y/L/N has made some arrangements for the future.

He was thinking it was all just a coincidence back then, but now he came to conclusion that it must have been his father who send this girl into his life. Knowing better than him that she would turn his ways around, challenge him, test him patience mercilessly and yet – that she would be the one to love him unconditionally and whom he would love with all his broken and unperfect self.

And the burden of possibility of ruining it all for them was even more overwhelming.

He clasped his hands behind his back, walking shorter and shorter distances, turning back more and more often, stuck in his belief that he would stay here as long as she didn't show up, even if -

“Anthony.”

Viscount spun around so abruptly it almost caused him falling to the ground.

She came.

She truly came.

It was like meeting her all over again, back in time, back next to his father’s grave.

Only she wasn’t looking like a servant girl now.

She was wearing the dress he sent her, looking not only like a viscountess, but like a queen herself. His queen. His wife. His love. His everything.

Her skin was radiant due to the color of the material (just like Violet predicted), cheeks flushed, hair done in perfect curls surrounding her face, bright like a sun.

“Y/N….”

“It was so unwise on your part viscount to call upon me and invite me into a wild place a woman like me should never step foot on.” She said sternly, but the everlasting and never changing glistening of her eyes betrayed her true intention “and perilous, may I say? Far from the city? Lady travelling alone? So many hazards awaiting me on the way.”

“Benedict and Colin were following your post chaise.”

“Oh I knew I heard someone laughing on the way. But my coachman brushed my concerns off!”

“Did you really believed I would send my greatest treasure into the wild without proper security?” Anthony took a few steps forwards, reaching for her hands and placing gentle kiss on her knuckles.

“Your brothers?” Y/N let him show the courtesy, but raised eyes in skepticism of the words.

“Believe me my lady, you should never underestimate the man of the Bridgerton house.”

“In what aspect my lord?”

“In every aspect, dear.” He looked deep into her eyes.

“Why did you ask me to meet you here?” Y/N quickly averted her eyes, because Anthony’s gaze were so full of passion, love and genuine remorse and apology she found herself falling into his charms. And this couldn’t have been so easy for him. “You sister discounselled me on coming here.”

“And yet, you came my lady.” Anthony reached for her chin and slowly, gently and with tenderness turned her face towards him so that their eyes had to meet again.

“Anthony I –“

“My love, I am sorry.”

“this is not—”

“Let me speak” he hushed her, not breaking eye contact. “I asked you here, because this is the very place where my father asked for my mother’s hand. Where he pledged her his undying love, support and loyalty. And you, out of all people in the world, learned how much I cherish my father’s memory and his legacy.

“Anthony-“

“Therefore, here I am. Standing in front of you, expressing my deepest condolences-“

“Oh, dear lord, Tony!” she cried out in frustration “stop using the words you would say to me if Lady Whistledown were nearby! Tell me how you feel!”

How he felt was not with words.

How he felt was expressed by the way he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to his chest, capturing her lips in the searing but gentle kiss that conveyed more than any noble and dignified words of a lord could.

I love you.

By his strong arms encompassing her like a shelter from the storm.

I won’t ever let go of you.

By tender caress of her hair and back.

I will always cherish you.

By the way his lips were moving against her, whispering silent words understood only by two souls forevermore yearning for each other.

I am sorry.

She was the first one to pull back for air, reluctantly so.

“My love. My beloved.”

She smiled at him, connecting their foreheads, allowing his arms to tighten around her waist and waiting for what was coming next to assess the truth behind his words.

“Am I too much now?” she whispered

“You are always too much. To much for me to keep. To much for me to even wish and pray for. Too much of a blessing in my life. Too much in the best possible sense and—”

This time It was her who cut him off by a kiss, silencing anything else that might come from his lips. He was honest and sincere. And if he was trying to apologize by saying anything else and backing out on what he said back there she probably would not forgive him sensing manipulation. But this?

“I forgive you.” She whispered against his lips.

“Thank God.”

“Is this cottage inhabited or--?”

“No. It’s not. And I intend on taking advantage of it right this moment.” He grabbed her and carried inside bridal style, ready to not get back to London for at least a couple days.

(spoiler alert below)

I got a request for a fluff pregnancy fic.... <3

@pietrawebster @chrissisheadisinclouds @fuzzym4m4 @gloomysel @urfavnoirette @dd122004dd @milkbummm @bevstofu @taniasethi @syraxnyra @christinabae @pandoraneverland @bevstofu @topguncultleader @jana-jaeynneee @myaa21212121 @ziarah @cat-lockwood @leaf-rose-thorn @elissanatok @lily3450 @nervousmumbling @budugu @frickin-bats @sillyfreakfanparty @amberpanda99 @nycthophiliaa @myaa21212121 @bananaadeleigate @everybodystaycalm @fmhcatt @sankareatheundead @cat-lockwood @1potato2rulethemall @bloommart @lorinevv @taylorswars @jessiegerl @glocuseguardian3rd @angiieguevara @laurasdrey @jholiday @smailaway @some-random-stranger-007 @beckahhope @bookishtheaterlover7 @eclecticcollectioncloud @thingfromlove @dutifullyannoyingfox @kitkat14sblog @dancingandreadingwithv @heyits-zedo @superhighschoollevelnerd-blog1 @ben-has-arrived @kindaslightlyacidic @espressopatronum454 @miluiel1 @powellssaturn @jess4rush @krismdavis

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #bridgerton angst #anthony bridgerton angst

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idkfitememate · 4 months

Note

What about otter!creator joining neuvilette in a meeting with wriothesley and sigewinne (I think that how you spell that) and sneaking back with them to the fortress of meropide. Cue fun times with sigewinne, tasting otter safe teas with wriothesley, and a very freaked out neuvilette and furina

I’m gonna write this as a Pt. 2 to the last Otter!Creator request, they just fit so perfectly! ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა

Here’s the previous post!~ <3

As you and Wriothesley only continued to stare at each other, Neuvillette and Furina suddenly walk back in. Both of their faces were stern as they looked at the both of you. But mostly you.

“Monsieur Wriothesley? We apologize, but me and Monsieur Neuvillette have some… pressing matter to discuss. Treats, toys and pillows are inside their pack. Please care for our ˈbābē in this sudden absence. We will retrieve them in a matter of hours. Thank you.” And with that, Furina and Neuvillette left, leaving no time for objection.

You watched as your three friends dissipated, and the duo walked out. Wriothesley was only able to open his mouth before the door shut again. He closed his mouth and turned to you, who shrugged.

His eyebrows raised at you before he blinked once.

Then twice.

Then three times.

“Do you… do you like tea?”

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

When Sigewinne entered Wriothesley’s office she was not expecting to see around thirty teacups (all empty) around The Creator in the form of an otter with Wriothesley sitting beside them with a wide grin of his face.

“Sigewinne! Meet Neuvillette’s and Lady Furina’s new little Otter friend! Did you hear of them?”

Oh yeah. Sigewinne had heard all about them. From all the melusine. Constant reminders of how cute they were compared to that fake on the throne. Constant stories of how adorable they acted compared to the awful actions of that monster who acted as their God.

To see them in the flesh was… a visceral feeling honestly. And being a melusine herself, she could feel the ethereal aura surrounding them. Shaking her head, she smiled at the older man and nodded.

“Oh I’ve heard some things here and there… have you been testing teas with them?” She mused, a joking smile on her face.

“… I didn’t know what else to do,” he admitted, “I didn’t want to make them do my paperwork..”

She giggled before getting an idea, and idea that had her face scrunched up in an even wider grin.

“What if… we try milkshakes?~”

“Sigewinne.” Was all he said.

As they began a small back and forth about the logistics of given an Otter a milkshake (Wriothesley was losing), you got up from your seat, took a small toy that looked vaguely like a melusine with the same colors are your fur, and just… waked out the office. Ready to explore.

“Uhm… Sigewinne?”

“It could very beneficial to their health for all we know-“

“Sigewinne?”

“I mean, have you even see an Otter consume a milkshake? I doubt their lactose intolerant-“

“Sigewinne.”

“And I… yeah?”

“Where did they go?”

“…. Uh oh.”

And you, at that exact moment, realized why you probably needed a map. Wondering around, you hadn’t realized how many levels you were going down.

You had been trying to get to the Coupon Cafeteria. How in the actually fuck had you ended up in the forbidden zone, in front of the gate that held the Primordial Sea.

What the fuck.

You hugged your melusine plushy closer as you stared at the plug.

And then an alarm sounded off.

God fucking damn it.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Chlorinde had been having a nice, slow day.

Why did the fucking sea just have to choose to be angry today.

Why?

Today was a good day.

TodAY WAS A GOOD DAY-

She sighed and removed herself from the room she was currently in, speed walking towards the room where her Archon and Chief Justice were.

After knocking curtly and hearing a quiet “Come in”, she gently pressed open the door, yet spoke with urgency.

“My apologies for interrupting, but the Primordial Sea. It’s causing issues again.” Chlorinde stated.

The hydro duo looked at each other, they had been no where near done with the conversation, but their darling was in the Fortress of Meropide, where the ocean was being.. dealt with.

“Let us begin on your way then.” Neuvillette sighed.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

“Damnit damnit damnit damnit…” Thats all that was going through Wriothesley’s head at the moment. He had sent Sigewinne away to ensure her safety, all while running through the Fortress, all the while making sure to keep an eye out for a stray otter.

His mind flew through the possibilities: you could’ve been caught in machinery, you could’ve fallen off a ledge, you could’ve been snatched up by a criminal on a walk…

There were to many all to possibilities that would lead to him finding your body over you alive.

And if things were going the way they were with the Primordial Sea, then Furina and Neuvillette were going to be back a lot sooner than any of them expected.

And he was not ready for what the punishment would be.

But when he finally got down to the correct level?

He knew his punishment was going to be even worse than whatever they were initially going to do to him.

Because your little body sat in front of the loudly beeping seal before the Primordial Sea.

Fuck.

₊‧ʚ・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

﹒˚ ₊ ︵﹒⊹ ๑ ︵︵ ๑ ⊹﹒︵

Honest to god when you saw Wriothesley just appear out of thin air, you weren’t shocked. To be entirely honest you hoped that you’d get to see the whole fight against the Sea with Neuvillette! It was gonna be so cool!

You snuggled against your melusine plushy again as you watched Wriothesley rush towards you, gently pick you up, and move you out of the way.

“Alright, here you go… just have to make sure you don’t get in trouble…” He muttered as he at you down, out of the way. You mentally groaned at this but stayed put. You’d still be able to watch from here, you supposed…

And as soon as Wriothesley walked but over to the seal, Neuvillette, Furina and Chlorinde all deceased from you forgot where. You began clapping quietly and lied on top of your plush, snuggled up and ready for action.

You couldn’t really hear their voices, but then…

The seal exploded!

You watched with bated breath as they fought against the raging Sea, and your little tail began to wag at the sight.

Perhaps you had picked up a love for the show from Furina…

You watched the moves they pulled, the fights they put up, everything was glorious!

That was…

…Untill Neuvillette faltered.

You were confused.

Wasn’t he the one who stopped it in the cutscene? Why wasn’t he able to do it now? What was happening? Was the fear on his face? Why was there fear on his face? Why was everyone stepping back? Was…

Was Furina crying?

You jumped up from your hiding spot, rushing across the floor to the shock and fear of everyone.

Your top hat flew off and your melusine plush fell out of your mouth.

You heard shouts your way but you didn’t give a shit.

This stupid water wasn’t gonna hurt your new family.

Not on your watch.

…

You jumped into the water.

…

Over the rushing waves you could hear Furina scream.

…

It was…

Almost soothing…

As Furina screamed and cried the only thing on Neuvillette’s mind was if you were going to melt away.

If you were going to dissolve in those star studded waters.

‘It would be fitting.’ His mind mused. ‘For the brightest star in his life to flicker out surrounded by stars as well.’

Furina fell to her knees. Why?

Why?!

WHY?!

WHY DID EVERYTHING SHE WANT HAVE TO SLIP FROM HER FINGERS LIKE SAND ON THE OCEAN FLOOR?! SWEPT AWAY BY THE TIDE SHE COULDN’T CONTROL?! WHY WAS SHE FORCED WITH THE MISFORTUNE OF NEVER BEING ABLE TO HOLD ON TO ANYTHING OR ANYONE WHO MENT ANYTHING TO HER?! THIS WASN’T FAIR!

IT WAS NEVER FAIR!

HOW COULD THIS EVER POSSIBLY BE FAIR!?!?

And as Furina cried, Wriothesley looked on with a blank face on.

But his mind was a whirlpool of emotion.

Your sudden sacrifice… it reminded him slightly of his past. Of his teenage years.

Of the murder of his foster parents.

How he put his life on the line, knowing full well that it could be the end of him, as long as his siblings would be fine in the end. That he saved everyone he could.

That’s what you had just done, wasn’t it?

But Chlorinde…

She was shocked.

She watched as her Archon screamed and cried, as she slammed her fists into the ground below, as Neuvillette allowed a tear to fall from his eye (she had never seen him cry before now), as Wriothesley stared on, grief and longing in his eyes.

Just…

Just what had you meant to them?

What had you meant..?

What… could you have meant to her..?

…

The water was cold. Cool. And the stars shimmered in a way where they were bright, but not enough to hurt your eyes.

You couldn’t see outside the water. But it seemed bioluminescent. The brilliant blue lighting up your vision with the stars.

You swam gently. The current was slow.

You placed a paw on your bow tie. It swayed with the movement of your body.

You felt something deep inside you.

…

The Primordial Sea.

She called to you.

She cried that her creations feared her.

She just wanted to be whole again. While with her children.

But you told her that she couldn’t.

They were scared because they were their own people now.

They had become their own.

If she were to become whole again…

They would die.

She wept.

She did not want them to die.

But she had to become whole. They were still apart of her.

You told her that soon she would understand. Her tears would no longer be wept out of sorrow, but out of delight.

She didn’t understand. You told her she soon would.

Where you swam, she followed, like a duckling to her mother.

When you went up, she followed. When you went down, she followed. You went left, so did she. You go right, so does she.

You tell her she must go back.

She understands. But she warns that soon her sorrow will consume her once more and she will come again, wishing to have her children rejoin her.

and you tell her that you will be there to comfort her once more. And you will be there until she understands.

She understands.

…

Furina’s cry’s stop. She looks to the water, which has ceased its movement.

It begins to swirls around them, breaking off into pieces that form diffrent creatures of the sea.

From creatures of today, to long lost beasts of times forgotten. They swirl around and around the room, playing and tumbling over each other. The grin and make the happiest noises with one another.

Before diving back into the seal.

Only an Otter of starry water remained, and it dropped between the teary eyed Dragon Sovereign and the crying Archon, chittering and chirping. Picking up the top hat, it places it in hydro god’s hands.

It’s form splits. Duplicates perhaps..

And there you stood.

Their ˈbābē.

Her raison d’être, her preux chevalier, her ange.

His moitié, his raison de vivre, his trésor.

The only difference being your once wide black eyes,

We’re now filled with all the stars in the sky.

Furina gently placed the hat on your head as you walked up and nuzzled her face, licking away her tears.

You then walked back to the Primordial Sea Otter, missing Furina’s out reached hand.

You both nuzzled against each other, making chittering and chirping noises, rubbing up and down each other. After saying your goodbyes, the Primordial Otter waved, running and jumping into the seal, it closing up after her.

You rushed back to them, picking up your plush on the way, and got picked up by a still teary Neuvillette, whose breath was shaky and broken.

You gave him kisses as well, chirping up at him.

All those in the vault - after Furina had stood - crowded around Neuvillette.

Hands were ran through your fur and you took it all lovingly, understanding the scare you had just given them.

Looking towards his Lady, they had a mental conversation, before Neuvillette sighed.

“Chlorinde, Wriothesley. Me and Lady Furina have something to tell you.”

I think I went a wee bit overboard… but meh ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა! Hehe, I hope you guys enjoyed!~ And honestly, the Primordial Sea I have envisioned (personified) and she’s… kinda hot ngl- Darn my Mommy kink!- ૮꒰ ྀི >⸝⸝⸝< ྀི꒱ა

#genshin impact sagau #sagau x reader #sagau #x reader #x gn reader #gn y/n #yander x reader #yandere x you #Otter!Creator #anon <3 #asks <3

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queenothegeeks · 16 days

Text

Awkward creator reader drabbles

This is based off a previous post about the reader being an awkward creator.

(warning, this all based off of chaotic ideas me and a friend had while on call, and this is not beta read, so I apologize for any bad spelling or grammar)

Imagine, just, having tea with Zhongli, and he's just talking about wine or something boring idk, and he notices that you look a little zoned out, like, eyes glazed over, mind clearly elsewhere. While he’s worrying about The Creator not liking him or whatever, you are just trying to figure out how to process being in another world, with all these people that you know everything about, but at the same time, don’t know anything at all.

When you notice him looking at you weird and not talking anymore, you worry that you may have missed something important. So you just blurt out the first thing that came to mind, to fill the silence.

“It's kinda funny that you're working under Hu Tao. She’s like, a billion years younger than you. Also, you should cool it on the adventuring, you might throw your back out gramps.”

And then, realizing what you said, you just grab your now lukewarm (yes, he was talking for that long) cup of tea (or whatever else you want if you don’t drink tea) and take a long sip, trying to hide your red face.

(Bonus, you choked on your tea)

Imagine going to Fontaine, and just gawking at the scenery there. Imagine, in order to find out about where in the timeline you are (and because you want to see some of your favorite characters) you decide to go to the opera house, and see if there's a trial going on, where you can ask Furina or Neuvillette about the wellbeing of Fontaine. Instead, you find a flier for Lyney and Lynette's magic show at a nearby theater. Deciding to go, you pay the ticket master, who looks in slight shock as the creator buys back row seats like a normal person (you were too scared to ask for a better seat while paying, so you just asked for the cheapest one)

Sitting down, you wait nervously for the show to start, all being completely ignorant of the panic and rumors backstage.

“The creators here! At our show!?”

“Calm down, it's fine, we don’t even know if it’s true.”

And, just to stir the pot, a tall lady sits next to you. You feel like you should know her from somewhere, she just seems so… familiar.

Realizing you had been staring for quite a while, you turn your head back to the stage, waiting for the show to start. About midway through the show, you realize who it is you are sitting next to.

The knave, fourth of the Fatui harbingers.

At the end of the performance, you shift in your seat, suddenly wayyyyyy more self-conscious than you were at the beginning of the show. Wanting to say everything and nothing at the same time, you decide it's best to shut your mouth for the time being. It’s probably not even her, why worry-

“Excuse my rudeness, would you happen to be the creator?”

She knew you were of course, hence why she chose to sit next to you, instead of the front row seat that was reserved for her, as it always was at one of her children's performances.

“I.. am… but you can call me y/n! I don’t really like fancy titles or anything! Would you be the Knave? Or do you prefer Arlecchino? ack-wait , sorry. I’ll shut up now, let's start fresh, what do you think of the show?”

You half say-half shout, flailing your hands around, and then shrinking in your seat, trying to become as small as possible. Arlecchino chuckles.

“I think it was a lovely performance, as they always are. My children are very talented, you know.”

“Y-yeah! They're really great! I have to go! Great meeting you miss-Arlecchino-Knave-ma’am”

You say as you bolt out of the room, the embarrassment and social awkwardness you naturally possess driving your feet.

(Bouns, you tripped over your own feet and wanted the floor to swallow you whole)

@lorkai

#genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin #sagau #arlechinno genshin #zhongli #sagau brainrot #the brainrot is real

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primordial-shade · 6 months

Text

Minotaur Partner Headcanons

Hellloooo I’m back, very sorry for being away but honestly I uploaded those previous two posts on a whim and came back from Spain to my tumblr having loads of notifications. SO thank you and here’s another segment of my Monster Lover Headcanons with the Minotaur! One a bit of a Greek fix lately so here we go.

Background

Minotaurs. Big beefy and sweet as all hell.

Headcanon for how they started? Easy, out Mr Original, Asterion the sweet poor lamb (BTW for those who maybe don’t know that was the Minotaur’s original name) did actual kill the sacrifices but tried to help them but they all fled in fear of him and died in the Labyrinth except one, a lovely lady I’m going to call Hemera.

She ended up staying in the labyrinth with Asterion, falling in love and determined to get them both out.

Theseus fucks along and when he’s about to kill her beloved she knocks him the fuck out, uses the yarn to get them all out, then fucks off with her hubby to the Mountains and lets everyone think Theseus killed him by leaving behind part of his broken horn.

They start a farm up in the mountains (With support from Asterions mother Persiphae and his sisters and eventually his brother in Law Dionysus who are happy Asterion is alive and happy cuz FUCK MINOS.)

Eventually they have several kids (Adorable as fuck) and a thriving mountain farm that the kiddos inherited.

As such Minotaurs are all related, and as such they often seek human partners.

Minotaurs like in mountainous regions, often protected by the God Dionysus, whose wife is all their many times great aunt who was forced to marry Theseus and tried to kill him and only gave him the yarn so her brother could kill him and use it to get out we love you Adriane <3

They grow lots of things but they are famous for wine 😉

White, red, rose, dessert. They make every type and its so fucking good.

Maybe you’re a wine coniseur, maybe you decided to go visit the farms on holiday, maybe you’re a local they trade with or a worker on the farm.

Needless to say when you catch a Minotaurs eye, you are staying for good.

SFW

Big sweethearts. Big beefy adorable sweethearts. Muscled as fuck and strong, with big soulful eyes and soft fur and hnghhghhg

I got fucking sidetracked

Anyway, Minotaur’s are very family orientated and all work on the huge collective farms in various roles. Don’t worry, wether or not you can contribute to the farm is moot, you’re their love and you don’t have to prove yourself in anyway and also if you’re human they kinda get overprotective and its like, ‘no please don’t help we don’t want you to get bruised or tired we love you just go and relax and let us do all the hard work baby <3.’

The hardest of workers, baby if you have a minotaur partner one of your main jobs is teaching them not to overwork themselves because they just wanna be good and make sure everything is good and they can’t stand doing nothing or not taking care of you.

If they could physically carry you around all the time, and this is more about your want to walk because they could carry you around all the time, you’re their Love, their sweet delicate loves. Please let them carry you around, it makes them so happy.

Their favourite thing in the world is taking care of you.

You’re hungry? They will literally go out to the farm and find the juiciest, best tasting produce and will hand feed it to you.

You have achy muscles? Oh poor baby, let them get their big strong hands and soothe all those aches and pains away.

If you do the same for them??

Ooooh, love, love love love.

They’re favourite thing? Honestly is when you lay down and they can curl up and put their head on your lap, letting you scratch their heads and between their horns.

Ooooh you scratch between their horns or behind their ears?? Very happy Minotaur, very happy wiggly minotaur. You’ll be lucky if you can get up for the next few hours, this is a pleasure that is rare and cherished.

They will also always show off. They can’t help it they just so want to impress you.

They’ll play fight with other Minotaurs in front of their loves, pick up heavy things, lift you up and carry you around.

They love making flower crowns too, and any crafts they take up they’ll make you something.

They love being praised. They absolutely love it, please praise them. Tell them how strong they are, how sweet they can be, how soft there fur is or how lovely their eyes are. They will melt, making soft little ‘moo’ sounds out of sheer pleasure.

They will also praise you constantly.

Your talents, your looks, even how you breathe. If it can be praised they will do it.

They also take a little longer to fall in Love, it’s a long term distrust thing, but once they do they fall *hard*.

And they will do anything in their power to prove this love to you. They love hard and they love deeply.

Bless their hearts but for a long time they’ll probably act like a Minotaur in love until one moment when they see you holding a baby Minotaur, or if the sun catches on your face the right way or even just sitting together and drinking something warm and suddenly it’s like a switch goes off in their heads.

“I love this person. ILOVE THIS PERSON!!” Nothing but joy and love and warmth.

Very physically affectionate. Hugs, cuddles, handholding, licking, kissing….

Yeah, their love language is love and praise. Which leads us into

NSFW:

So Minotaurs are big. In every way.

Not only are they generally built like strongmen. All muscles and covered in a nice thick layer of fat, male and female Minotaur are built this way.

Big muscles, big breasts and pecs, fat cocks and pussies. Everything is big and ready for you to feast upon.

One of the major things they like doing to you is lick.

Their tongues are thick and long, and they love to lick the taste of your salty sweat from your skin, to lick your salty semen and tangy arousal from your pussy or cock. They long to spread you open and lock you clean or flick their tongue over your most sensitive parts.

Sit on their face. Don’t give them any bullshit about being to heavy they are fucking Minotaurs and you will sit on their face so help them Dionysus.

Suffocation??? Who gives a shit about that, fucking sit on them and let them eat your ass/pussy out!!!!! If they die they die, and they will die with no regrets.

They are so soft with you though, loving touches and praising how good you taste and feel around and in them. How good you sound calling their names and begging for them. Such a darling thing, a sweet pretty love.

Yeah they are the kings/queens of accidental overstim. It’s always just one more orgasm, one more sweet baby, just give me one more. God they love you so much, please let them keep going, please just one more orgasm, just one more sweet orgasm.

Your legs will be shaking, you’ll be cockdumb/pussydrunk to the point you can barely speak but you keep going because you love them so much and gods it feels so fucking good.

You will be covered in fluids. Cum, semen, spit, all over the place. Covering your skin, filling your mouth, filling you. There will not be an area untouched by them and you love it.

#monster x reader #monster fucker #monster lover #monster x human #terat0philliac #terato

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dresshistorynerd · 7 months

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I've seen a post you've reblogged and added to, among many things about women showing nipples. Can you recommend any ref material (articles, videos, etc.) are share your knowledge about this? Cause I'm curious about that, as nowadays going out in a shirt without a bra makes you indecent, while in like 90s it was okayish? I wonder how it was in previous centuries.

There is a really cool academic paper about bare breast dresses in 17th century England specifically. I think anyone can read it by creating a free account.

Abby Cox also has a good video about the cleavage during the past 500 years in which she goes through also the nip slip phenomena.

I don't have other sources that specifically focus on this subject, though many sources about specific decades touch on it, but I do have my primary source image collection, so I can sum up the history of the bare nipple.

So my findings from primary source images (I could be wrong and maybe I just haven't found earlier examples) is that the Venetians were the first ones to show the nipple for courtly fashion. At the same time in other places in Europe they sported the early Elizabethan no-boob style that completely covered and flattened the chest. In the other corners of Italy the necklines were also low but less extreme. Venetian kirtle necklines dropped extremely low as early as 1560s and they combined extremely sheer, basically see-through partlets with their kirtle. First example below is a 1565-70 portrait of a Venetian lady with the nipples just barely covered waiting slip into view with a movement of arm. There was an even more extreme version of this with the kirtle being literally underboob style, still with a sheer doublet. Though I believe this was not quite for the respectable ladies, since I have only seen it depicted on high class courtesans. They were not exactly respectable ladies, but they did have quite good social position. The second example is a 1570s depiction of a courtesan, which is revealed by the horned hairstyle. By the end of the century this underbust style with only see through fabric covering breasts, had become respectable. In the last example it's shown on the wife of the Venetian doge in 1597.

Around the same time, at the very end of 1500s, the extremely low cut bodice fashion enters rest of Europe. The low cut style was present in the bodices of all classes, but the nipple was really only an aristocrat thing. The lower classes would cover their breasts with a partlet, that was not sheer. Bare breast was ironically from our perspective a show of innocence, youthful beauty and virtue, and to pull off the style with respect, you also had to embody those ideals. Lower class women were considered inherently vulgar and lacking virtue, so a nipple in their case was seen as indecent. Bare boobs were also a sort of status symbol, since the upper class would hire wet nurses to breastfeed their children so they could show of their youthful boobs.

Covering partlets and bodices were still also used in the first decade of 1600s by nobles and the nip slip was mostly reserved for the courtly events. The first image below is an early example of English extremely low neckline that certainly couldn't contain boobs even with a bit of movement from 1597. The 1610s started around 5 decades of fashion that showed the whole boob. The first three were the most extreme. Here's some highlights: The second image is from 1619.

Here the first, very much showing nipples, from c. 1630. The second from 1632.

The neckline would slowly and slightly rise during the next decades, but nip slips were still expected. Here's an example from 1649 and then from 1650-55. In 1660s the neckline would get still slightly higher and by 1870s it was in a not very slippable hight. The necklines would stay low for the next century, though mostly not in boob showing territory, but we'll get there. But I will say that covering the neckline in casual context was expected. Boobs were mostly for fancy occasions. It was considered vain to show off your boobs when the occasion didn't call for it and covering up during the day was necessary for a respectable lady. You wouldn't want to have tan in your milk-white skin like a poor, and also they didn't have sun screen so burning was a reasonable concern.

1720s to 1740s saw necklines that went to the nip slip territory, though they didn't go quite as low as 100 years earlier. The nipple was present in the French courtly fashion especially and rouging your nipples to enhance them was popular. Émilie Du Châtelet (1706-1749), who was an accomplished physicist and made contributions to Newtonian mechanics, was known in the French court to show off her boobies. An icon. Here she is in 1748. Here's another example from this era from 1728.

The Rococo neckline never got high, but in the middle of the century it was less low till 1770s when it plunged into new lows. In 1770s the fashion reached a saturation point, when everything was the most. This included boobs. The most boob visible. There was a change in the attitudes though. The visible boob was not a scandal, but it was risque, instead of sing of innocent and did cause offense in certain circles. I think it's because of the French revolution values gaining momentum. I talked about this in length in another post, mostly in context of masculinity, but till that point femininity and masculinity had been mostly reserved for the aristocracy. Gender performance was mostly performance of wealth. The revolutionaries constructed new masculinity and femininity, which laid the groundwork for the modern gender, in opposition to the aristocracy and their decadence. The new femininity was decent, moral and motherly, an early version of the Victorian angel of the house. The boob was present in the revolutionary imagery, but in an abstract presentation. I can't say for sure, but I think bare breasts became indecent because it was specifically fashion of the indecent French aristocracy.

Here's example somewhere from the decade and another from 1778. The neckline stayed quite low for the 1780s, but rose to cover the boobs for the 1790s.

The nipple didn't stay hidden for long but made a quick comeback in the Regency evening fashion. It was somewhat scandalous by this point, and the nipple and sheer fabrics of the Regency fashion gained much scorn and satire. The styles that were in the high danger nip slip territory and those that allowed the nipple to show through fabric, were still quite popular. The sleeves had been mid length for two centuries, but in 1790s they had made a split between evening and day wear. The evening sleeves were tiny, just covering the shoulder. Showing that would have been a little too much. Like a bare boob? A risque choice but fine. A shoulder? Straight to the horny jail. (I'm joking they did have sheer sleeves and sometimes portraits with exposed shoulder.) But long sleeves became the standard part of the day wear. Getting sun was still not acceptable for the same reasonable and unreasonable reasons. Day dresses did also usually have higher necklines or were at least worn with a chemisette to cover the neckline. Fine Indian muslin was a huge trend. It was extremely sheer and used in multiple layers to build up some cover. There were claims that a gust of wind would render the ladies practically naked, though because they were wearing their underclothing including a shift, which certainly wasn't made from the very expensive muslin, I'm guessing this was an exaggeration. Especially though in the first decade, short underboob stays were fairly popular, so combined with a muslin, nipples were seen. Here's an early 1798 example of exactly that. The short stays did disappear eventually, but in 1810s the extremely small bodices did provide nip slip opportunities, as seen in this 1811 fashion plate.

Victorian moralizing did fully kill the nip slip, though at least they were gender neutral about it. The male nipple was just as offensive to them. In 1890s, when bodybuilding became a big thing, bodybuilder men were arrested for public indecency for not wearing a shirt.

#there was also the new femininity aspect to regency nipple which had to do with breastfeeding becoming fashionable among upper class #it's about the whole motherly thing that came with the french revolution #i can't remember the book i read it from so i didn't go into it because i couldn't remember the details lol #but it did definitely have an effect to the fashion and to the perception of nipple #historical fashion #fashion history #history #dress history #fashion #answers #painting #fashion plate #renaissance fashion #elizabethan fashion #rococo fashion #baroque fashion #regency fashion #will tumblr prove itself to be again more prudish than elizabethans and label my post as mature content?#remains to be seen

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dottybot · 8 months

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Lost housing and almost killed by our landlords

(Twice)

C*sh app: $dottybot

V*nmo: @dottybot

@translesbo's Paypal: [email protected]

My partner, @translesbo, and I after signing a lease, were put through 2 big gas leaks during times we had planned on and had been close to sleeping in the apartment. The entire time the place made us sick and was hard to breathe in with a strong awful smell and remained unihabitable, causing us to be without a home since July 3rd, 2023 due to it.

We are a brown latine lesbian couple and both trans (her transfem and myself tme cafab) and autistic along with other disabilities, and have 2 esa cats.

The whole time during the lease, the landlord would excuse the lack of cleanliness and poor maintenance of the building with that it was an old building, deny things she once acknowledge, and imply that we were just lying or causing the problems and even giving us trouble with getting out of the lease. But before that it led up to 2 big gas leaks.

To not make the post appear too lengthy, the rest is under a cut.

So the 1st gas leak, we were earlier sure about taking and about to load up the cats with us to all attempt sleeping there for the night, only last minute getting the feeling like we should not bring them and then deciding not to. Once in the apartment, we were there, windows shut the entire time, for 3+ hours. I went from the regular struggle to breath, head pain, and sickly feel to escalating much more and becoming very out of it, struggling to stay awake to beginning to feel so out of control, and I never would have guess we were being poisoned due to the state it had already put me in. Kat only noticed by chance, the smell of gas by the oven, when she was just starting to feel more off, which we otherwise wouldn't have spotted with how strong the place smelled. We were so close to not noticing it at all.

Kat had been barely able to drive but got us to the nearby ER, and doctors confirmed the gas poisoning, and kept us there for 3 or 4 hours through the night until recovered enough, fortunately due to it being short term, we had no lasting damage on our bodies, just both felt very ill the next day, and myself barely able to move I remained sick from it for 3 days.

That morning, Kat had contacted the gas company as the doctors suggested, though they could not do anything as we followed the leases direction and were not notified during the event, so no one but the apartment maintenance would be able to even confirm it happening. However, the fire departmen came with a firetruck, since it was also recommended by the doctor to get the place checked out by them.

The landlord later called, after us updating her of current apartment issues promptly as per lease requirements, and this call she went too far. She kept up with her same tactics but worse. She tried implying either we made up that there was a leak or we intentionally gave ourselves gas poisoning (like we were still very sick from the previous night) and was then many times claiming everything is fine with the maintenance man the landlord insists "he knows what he's doing" and "no one has ever had a problem with him", because we had included our concerns with him-- this guy had tried making kat sound like she overreacted and didn't know anything, kept claiming that "Gas does Not spread" so we should have been fine, not having any effects of poisoning, along with other contrary claims.

Anyways, the landlord lady was very clearly implying she thinks we are liars about there even being a gas leak, implying we didnt contact the gas and fire department which she claimed to "work closely with so they wouldn't lie, because she contacted the places and no one had documentation since maintenance was the only one to witness, it was her word against ours. This is when we realize due to the lease instructions to forgo contact to a third party professional to fix gas leaks, we would not be able to have paper documentation against her to prove it. She even "randomly" asked the name of our previous apartment place, and mentioned threatening like "didnt you have a gas leak there too?" As even more reason to accuse us, and saying she may have to contact our previous apartment place and saying how odd she thinks it was to have another leak, though this one worse,

On the 3rd day, after the 1st leak I was still feeling ill only starting to recover, the 2nd leak happened. this time we had to bring our cats with us, since we had no where else to stay with our previous lease over, and the apartment still uninhabitable and made us both more sickly, and still feared being there.

Earlier in that day, we were reassured multiple times that it was fixed and that "the stove SHOULD be putting out a gas smell for the next hour or 2", and that it means it's "Fixed, working" the maintenance man kept insisting, even the landlord lady was there strongly confirming multiple times it was true because "he Knows what he is doing" again, even confirming therepair was checked later in the day to make sure there was no leak and that it was safe.

We were afraid to go back after the 1st leak after how badly to us at least it seemed to be pouring out earlier in the day and their claim that it was supposed to be that way, but it was the only option we had.

We were unsure if we were just overreacting for a while and imagining the smell, it was several hours laters with all windows having been left open, though eventually calling our gas company this time to get proper documentation and a professional, since the smell had not diminished.

Kat was told by the gas man that gas was shooting out, and he's seen fires breakout from similar.. so we had to get Out.

Which led to us being homeless and having to sleep in the car and soon after, we were fortunately able to stay at Kat's parents house though they do not have space for us, keeping us and our cats in her nephew's small cramped room, with Kat sleeping on a broken bed that is messing with her scoliosis, and me havung to sleep on the floor for over a month now really taking a toll on me. And our cats have been under constant stress, making them require more care and expense.

This whole thing has made me lose my job, has been traumatic for us both, and lose easily over $2,500 into cost of the apartment and our repairs alone, and $250 on an attourney that did not try to help much but was able to get us out of the lease. On top of kat recently being wrongfully stopped by a cop for a made up reason, giving her a $135 ticket, along with having to take a 5 week un paid leave of absence to be able to help deal with our situation. And we can no longer put off car repairs, we have put off this whole year since it sputters most of the time instead of starting now along with other concerning issues.

We have currently been trying to find better jobs and a place to live, though due to the unstable living situation and and loss of income it has been more difficult to find a place.

So, any mutua*aid if you have the means and any reblogs would really help and be appreciated a ton

#so this has been going on lately #hoped it wouldn't get as bad as is but it is and still is #and broke my laptop charger again last night

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myladysapphire · 1 year

Text

My Lady Strong (III)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 2613

CW: Mentions of death, violence

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer: i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

A/N sorry i haven't posted in a while I've been ill and busy will college, hope you enjoy, I don't really like how this chapter turned out, but next chapter their will be a little time skip

Two months following her and Aemonds betrothal, grief struck Kings Landing.

First was the death of the Strongs, ser Harwin and lord Lynol. Then came the news of her Aunt Leana’s death.

They had travelled to Driftmark for Leana’s funeral, a morbid affair she did not wish to attend, especially after receiving all those nasty looks from her Veleryon kin. Her father had been lost to the world of grief, the death of his sister taking over, and his days spent wallowing in the sea. Her mother was better, though isolated. Focusing all her attention on the new babe.

She, as always, stood beside Aemond, few things had changed between them since their courtship began, Aemonds possessive nature towards her had come out tenfold. Though the general rules of courtship dictated they remain an ‘appropriate distance’ from one another and must always remain accompanied (a fact her septa had constantly reminded her), they instead broke every rule, acting as if they were already wed, they even shared a bed every night (which Aemond insisted had to remain secret), Aemond claiming it was then ‘practising for married life’. Though Aemma was not too sure what the fuss was about. People had begun to treat her like a grown woman, even her mother, acting as if she were not a child who had yet to reach her tenth name day.

She had decided grown-up life seemed incredibly dull, even her lessons changed, now focusing on new responsibilities, such as sewing and running a household.

She hated the whole thing, hated that her lessons with Aemond were now few and far between.

Her brothers had too changed since her betrothal, namely Jace. Though it was more recent, (mainly due to the strong departure and death, why that seemed to greatly affect Jace’s behaviour she was not sure) He had insisted on being her and Aemonds chaperone, though they usually managed to escape him, he would follow them around, breaking them apart whenever they did something ‘improper’, she had begun to refer to him as septa Jace, though not out loud, she even began to think allowing her septa to chaperone them may be better than his company.

Aemond himself didn’t seem to care, he had never liked Jace and seemed to act up more in his presence, becoming more possessive of her, even manhandling her (not that she knew what that was). If she was anyone else perhaps, she would have been worried over his possessive nature, But she did not, she loved it. In truth, there was nothing wrong with it as far as she was aware.

Her mother had been the same. So protective and controlling of her life that it felt right.

With Aemond though it never felt like he was controlling her, she felt it was normal, he would protect her from the mean words and looks from others (not that she knew they were even happening), and he would even take her out of septa lessons were she was being taught ‘nonsense’, an action both her mother and Aemond partook in.

Aemond was a constant presence that she could rely on, he was the one by her side as she heard the news of each of the deaths. He had instantly sought her out after the news of Ser Harwin, she may not have been as close as Jace and Luke were to him, but he had always been there with a kind smile and open arms for her. As for her aunt, she had never met Laena, but her father always told her stories of her, she had wanted to, and now she never would.

Aemond gripped her hand tightly as she sniffed her tears.

“We have nothing in common!” Aegon whined next to them.

She had decided to stand with Aemond and Helena, having had enough of the stares she received from the Velaryons as she stood beside her mothers and brothers. Heleana was on one side, crotched in the dirt playing with some new insect she had discovered, and on the other stood Aegon, already deep in his cups.

“she’s our sister” Aemond reminded, following their betrothal her grandfather saw fit to preserve the Valyrian bloodline once more and betrothed Heleana and Aegon.

“You marry her then!”

“He is to marry me, uncle” Aemma replied, naively, moving to crotch near Heleana “Perhaps he should have betrothed Heleana and Jacaerys, Helena would be a good queen!”

Aemond and Aegon shared a look.

“She is to be your wife, brother, show her some respect” he replied, choosing to ignore her words. He moved to pull Aemma back up from the ground “You’ll muddy your dress”.

“Heleana already has, what does it matter if I do!” she replied, kneeling, and looking at Helena’s newest bug, “what is that?” she asked, but instead of an answer, she was met with Heleana muttering about a hand and spools of black and green.

“Aemma” she heard her mother call her, pulling her away from the ground and Aemond.

“Mother? What is it?” she asked,

“it is time to bed sweet girl,” her mother spoke, caressing her face.

“But it’s early!” she whined, Aemond would not wish to go to bed yet, she was sure to not find any sleep.

“just go.” Her mother sighed.

Aemma was woken to the sounds of shouts coming from the great hall. The whole family had gathered in the dead of night, the hall was silent when she reached it, her mother comforting her brothers, receiving Alicent’s disapproving stare.

The Hall was split in two, the whole of Driftmark in attendance. On one side stood her mother, brothers, cousins and Veleryon grandparents, on the other her grandsire, Alicent, Heleana and Aegon. Someone was sitting in a chair facing away from them all, maesters surrounding them.

“Muña?” she questioned confused as to what was going on “What happened? Where’s Aemond?”

“Oh, my sweet girl” her mother ran, pulling her to her and her brothers.

“What happened? Where’s Ae-“She was cut off, a sob leaving her mouth as his head popped around the chair. His eye gashed out and his face was swollen.

“Aemond!” she gasped, moving from her mother’s grip, “what happened?” she cried, reaching for his face.

He hissed, pulling back, “They attacked me!” he shouted pointing to her brothers and cousins.

“What! Why?” she sobbed, burying her face in his chest, “why? Why would they do that to you?”

“He attacked Baela” she heard Jace shout back.

“He broke Luke’s nose!”

“He stole my mother’s dragon!”

“ENOUGH!” her grandsire demanded; his anger apparent.

“He was going to kill Jace!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Aemond insisted, pulling Aemma’s face closer into his chest, finding solace in her presence.

“ENOUGH!” her grandsire demanded once again.

“It should be my son telling the tale” Alicent insisted, moving her hand to rub Aemma’s back.

Her grandsire hit his cane to the floor, demanding silence, “Aemond, I will have the truth of what happened, now!”

“What else is there to hear? Your son has been maimed…Her son is responsible”.

“It was a regrettable accident” her mother spoke.

“How was taking his eye an accident?” Aemma questioned, moving her head back to look at her mother, “what could he have possibly done to deserve his eye being taken?” she questioned, glaring at Luke as he shrunk back behind their mother.

Alicent nodded her head, agreeing with Aemma, “The prince Lucerys brought a blade to an ambush. He meant to kill my son!” she insisted, causing Aemma to gasp and continue her teary glare at her brothers.

“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves… Vile insults were levied against them” her mother declared.

“What insults?”

Her mother hesitated “The legitimacy of my…son’s birth was put loudly to the question”.

“What?”

Speaking up, Luke said “he called us bastards!” sending her a pleading gaze, trying to prove his innocence, but Aemma only saw his guilt, he took her Aemonds eye, and whatever Aemond did she doubted had cause for his eye to be taken.

Looking at Aemond, she whispered “What’s a bastard?” with confusion written on her face, Aemond only shook his head, guilt shimmering in his eye.

“My sons are in line to inherit the iron throne, your grace. This is the highest of treasons…. Prince Aemond must be Sharpley questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders”.

“He just lost his eye, and you want to… to interrogate him, over an…” Aemma lead off, confusion clear in her tone, but Alicent continued for her.

“Over and insult? My son has lost an eye!”

Her grandsire moved towards Aemond, Aemma was ushered off Aemonds lap, moving to stand near Heleana. “You tell me, boy, where did you hear this lie?” her grandsire demanded.

Alicent was quick to respond, coming to Aemonds defence, (perhaps even her own) “This insult was training yard bluster, it was nothing”. But her grandsire paid no attention to her, only moving to question Aemond again.

where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The children’s father? Perhaps he might have something to say on the matter.”

“Yes, where is Ser Laenor?”

“he’s at the beach” Aemma interrupted, “ he has not left the sea since we arrived,” she looked around the room, her move gaining some sense of confidence from Aemma’s interruption.

“yes, he nor I could find sleep, we took a walk on the beach, where Laenor chose to remain” Her mother nodded, a smug smile gracing her face as Alicent kissed her teeth.

Her grandsire spoke, stopping Alicent from changing the subject once again “Aemond, look at me. Your king demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?”

Aemond shifted his gaze to his mother, “It was Aegon” he answered, moving his gaze to his brother.

“Me?” Aegon asked confused, she had never heard him say it before, then again until today, she had never heard the word at all. And seeing how uncomfortable the word made everyone, it made sense for Aegon, he seemed to thrive on the discomfort of others.

“And you, boy? Where did you hear such calumnies?” her grandsire spat “Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!”

“We know, father. Everyone knows. Just look at them” Aegon sighed, eyes turning to her brothers, Aemma herself was pulled back to Aemond, who hid her from everyone’s gaze.

“This interminable infighting must cease! All of you! We are family! Now make your apologies and show goodwill to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it.” Her grandsire demanded.

“That is insufficient. Aemond has been damaged, permanently, ‘Good will’ cannot make Aemond whole” Alicent demanded.

“I know Alicent, but I cannot restore an eye,“ a deep sigh left her grandsire.

“No, because it’s been taken!”

“What would you have me do?”

“There is a debt to be paid. I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return” Alicent declared, gasps filling the hall.

“My dear wife-”

Her eyes watered, her son, their sons’ eye had been taken and he does not seem to care “he is your son, Viserys. Your blood”

“Do not allow your temper to guide your judgment”

“If the king will not seek justice, the queen will. Ser Criston… Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.” Alicent ordered.

Luke let out a nervous shout for his mother, moving to hide behind her.

“he can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son” Alicent spoke, Ser Criston stared down at her, unsure of what to do.

Turing to Ser Cole, her grandsire demanded “You will do no such thing… Stay your hand”.

“No, you are sworn to me!” she shouted at Ser Criston, as he stood unsurely “As your protector, my queen.”

“This matter is finished, do you understand?” her grandsire spoke to Alicent, moving away before declaring “And let it be known, anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s children should have it removed!”

“Thank you, Father” her mother spoke, relief clear in her tone. But Alicent was enraged and moved towards grabbing the dagger from her grandsire and moved to charge at her mother and Luke.

Shouts filled the hall, trying to get Alicent to stop, but she continued.

“you’ve gone too far” her mother spoke, grabbing Alicent’s arm, preventing the dagger from diving into Luke’s eye.

“i? What have I done but what expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, and the law. While you flout all to do as you, please” Alicent spat in reply. “Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? And now you take my son's eye, and to that event, you feel entitled”.

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness” her mother replied, seeing Alicent face drop and her grip on the blade began to loosen. “But now they see you as you truly are,” she said lowly, the dagger slipped from Alicent’s hand, down her mother’s arm, blood dripping to the ground.

“This proceeding is at an end”

Aemma had not left Aemonds side since that night. She took over from the maesters, changing Aemonds bandage, and applying the ointment. She refused to let others near him, to leave him. Even when her mother tried to carry her out of the room herself, she would scream and protest. She only left once her mother came and told them they were leaving.

“I will not” she shook her head, ripped her arm from her mothers “I will not leave him, you can not make me!” she screamed.

“dōna riña” her mother begged, “please, my sweet girl, for me and your brothers they miss you, you will see in in a few years when you are to wed.” her mother sneered the last part, the maids had whispered about how her mother had pleaded with her grandsire to end the engagement, but only a fool would think she herself would let anyone but Aemond be her husband.

“I do not care! Alicent has said I can stay in Kings Landing, in my home, Mother please!” she begged “I cannot leave my Aemond, especially after what they did, stay Muña, please”.

“I cannot, sweet girl, it is for the best” her mother continued.

“For whom? For you? Mayhaps, but for me it will be nothing but pure torture, I will scream if you make me go, I will bring you nothing but hell if you take me there, take me away from MY AEMOND!” She shouted, streams streaming down her face.

She noticed the man then, he had silver hair like her mother’s family, she remembered who he was then, Aemond had mentioned him, their uncle Daemon, rider of Caraxes. He stood against the wall, his lip quirked and laughter leaving his lips, “leave her, let the Hightower cunts have her” he spoke up.

“Do not-“ her mother began, a sigh leaving her lips. She looked at Aemma, defeat filling her features, “Please, sweet girl, please”

“I won’t, I can’t leave him, Muña”.

Her mother sighed “ok, but if you ever, and I mean if for a second, a minute second, wish to come to Dragonstone, come. You are my daughter, my dōna riña, and you always will be my favourite girl” tears filled her mother’s eyes.

“of course, Muña, I love you” she whispered the last part, looking down “I’m sorry, I’ll miss you”.

“I love you too, I’ll miss you, sweet girl, I’ll visit whenever you ask” her mother promised.

Though that would soon become a lie, as Aemma would not see her mother for years to come.

next part

Taglist (bold means could not tag)

My lady strong: @aemondssiut @idonotknowenglish @sydneyyyya @wondergal2001 @whitejuliana1204 @meowtastick @bellaisasleep @tinykryptonitewerewolf @sarahkimtae @winchesterfamiliebusiness @iiamthehybrid @zzz000eee @spookydaddy01 @melllinaa @ateliefloresdaprimavera @aelora-a @aleemendoza2425-blog @chittakii @gghoulzz @ryiana @duckworthbean @cynic-spirit @may-machin @Gianinaa19

Hotd: @targaryenmoony @theanxietyqueen17

Aemond: @blossomedflowerofluv @violet-potter

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