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edenesth · 15 days

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TWTHH Bonus: Star of the Show

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

A/N: In case you haven't already read Honeymoon Avenue (the first bonus chapter), it's probably better to check that out before reading this. Also, please be warned that this contains a slight spoiler to Wooyoung and Hongjoong's spinoffs.

Honeymoon Avenue | Fic Masterlist

"Your wife is with child."

The words echoed in the general's mind long after Yunho had uttered them. You remained unconscious in his room, undergoing a more thorough examination. Seonghwa had been asked to leave while you were attended to. He felt a wave of relief knowing that, according to the physician, your fainting spell was simply your body's way of compensating for the exhaustion caused by the demands of the little one growing inside you.

"Don't worry, everything will be okay."

"I'm counting on you, Yunho," he recalled telling the doctor before exiting his private quarters, his gaze lingering on your still, pale figure nestled under the covers.

"When have I ever let you down, my lord? She'll be fine, the baby will be fine; your family, they'll be just fine."

Realising there was no use lingering outside while the physician and his team of servants were busy examining you—his presence wouldn't change anything—he decided to occupy himself elsewhere while he waited. However, returning to his study seemed impossible; he knew he wouldn't be able to focus on anything else.

As if with a mind of its own, his feet carried him toward the House of Lotus. His heart warmed at the familiar sight of the pavilion facing the lotus pond, your favourite spot, once empty but now furnished with a small table, cosy cushioned seats, and decorative lanterns. It was a testament to the time you two spent together there. He could never tire of being there with you, and the mere thought of spending eternity like that was more than enough to fill his heart with joy.

Soon, it wouldn't just be us two.

Deciding not to sit alone without you, he opted to enter your quarters instead, where every corner held a piece of you. He softened as he opened the door and spotted your embroidery kit at the centre of the room. You had been deeply invested in the craft ever since Hongjoong had taught you a few techniques, dedicating nearly all your time to it when you weren't occupied with anything else. He remembered finding you diligently working on it late into the night and had to gently coax you to bed with him.

Approaching the items, he settled into your usual spot before going through the designs you had created. A chuckle escaped him as he took in some of your earlier, more clumsy works—clearly, these were from when you first began learning from the dressmaker. As he continued, a smile graced his lips at the gradual improvement in quality. It hinted at the possibility that you had discovered a hidden talent; his friend would surely be proud to see your progress.

However, his movements faltered as he reached the bottom of the pile and discovered what appeared to be a... baby shirt. Realisation dawned on him: had this been your secret project all along? Were you aware of your pregnancy all this time?

Questions flooded his mind, each one more pressing than the last. Why hadn't you told him? Why had you lied and pretended everything was fine when you must have been feeling so sick? Did you not trust him enough to confide in him?

His heart ached with the thought that you might have felt the need to hide something so important from him. It left him feeling a mix of confusion, hurt, and a tinge of betrayal. Had he not made it clear that he was there for you, no matter what?

As he sat there, staring at the tiny garment in his hands, he couldn't help but wonder what reasons you could have had for keeping this from him. His mind raced with possibilities, each one more heartbreaking than the last. He thought back to all the times you had been showing symptoms of pregnancy, and it hurt him to know you didn't feel safe enough to tell him the truth. Was it because you didn't think he would be a good father? What if, deep down, there was a part of you that was still afraid of him? What if—

Before his thoughts could further linger, a knock on the door snapped him out of his train of thought. Turning to see who it was, he allowed entry and found Eunsook standing there with a smile on her face, "The mistress is awake, master," she announced. With that, all his previous worries were momentarily swept from his mind. Only you mattered as he quickly rose from his seat and dashed towards his room to see you.

Rushing into the room, Seonghwa's heart raced as he laid eyes on you, sitting up on his bed with Yunho standing beside you. Relief flooded him as he saw you speaking softly with the physician, a gentle hand pressed against your stomach.

Oh thank god, she's alright... they're alright.

Moving closer, he couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for you. Despite the recent scare, you looked calm and serene, your presence soothing his worried mind. He approached quietly, not wanting to interrupt your conversation with Yunho but eager to be by your side.

As soon as your eyes met, he noticed the hint of moisture gathering in your gaze as you uttered his name, "Hwa..." His heart ached at the vulnerability in your voice, and he quickly moved forward, settling beside you on the bed. Gently, he grasped your hand, brushing strands of hair away from your face and stroking your cheek, "What's wrong, my love? Are you feeling alright?"

You nodded, leaning into his touch and motioning for Yunho to speak on your behalf. Taking a deep breath, the physician began, "Her condition is currently stable, my lord."

Seonghwa furrowed his brow in dread, "I'm sensing a 'but' there."

"But..." the doctor continued, "Due to years of severe malnutrition throughout the lady's childhood, her body lacks many essential nutrients necessary for both her and the baby. This explains her weakness. But fear not, I will do everything in my power to ensure her full recovery. Once we pass the three-month mark safely, the remainder of the pregnancy should proceed smoothly."

"I... I understand. Thank you again, Yunho, for your hard work. It seems we'll need your frequent visits for the next few months," the general acknowledged, offering a grateful nod to his friend.

"No problem, my lord and lady. I'll ensure Eunsook receives all the necessary information for the mistress' care. Please excuse me, I should get started on the preparations immediately."

Once Yunho had left and you were alone together, your husband turned his attention back to you. Squeezing your hand gently, he couldn't shake the image of the baby shirt from his mind. He knew he had to address it. Leaning closer, he pressed a kiss on your forehead before delicately broaching the subject, "I... I have a question."

You responded in a soft voice, returning the squeeze of his hand, "What is it, Hwa?"

"My love, have you been aware that you were pregnant all along?"

As your gaze met his, he rested his forehead against yours, seeking to reassure you, "It's just... I was going through your embroideries earlier and I saw it—the baby shirt."

You let out a soft sigh, nodding, "Yes, I... I had a feeling, and I've been preparing myself to tell you about it, Hwa. But I just didn't know how to say it. I was scared of your reaction." When he attempted to pull away, you reached out, cupping his face to keep him close, "Listen to me, I'm not afraid of you. I... I know you've never had a proper family growing up—both of us, actually—and... I can't help but wonder if you might hate the idea of starting one."

His heart swelled with understanding, realising he had momentarily let his earlier insecurities get the best of him. Of course, you were simply concerned about him. Leaning in, he pressed a soft kiss against your lips before murmuring tenderly, "With another person, I would hate the idea. But with you, my love, I want it all."

Feeling touched by his words, you realised you had never needed to overthink the situation. You should have known that his love and acceptance were unwavering.

Perhaps you had just been overwhelmed by the idea of a tiny life growing inside you—a product of your love with Seonghwa. The thought of having a baby, your baby, filled you with joy and apprehension. Neither of you had experienced a conventional family upbringing, and you feared whether you could provide the love and care this child deserved. Since the first moment you felt sick and figured you might be pregnant, endless questions floated around your mind.

Were you ready?

Was he ready?

What if he didn't want children?

But now, those fears seemed unfounded. As tears welled in your eyes, you wrapped your arms tightly around his neck and buried your face against his shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace. He held you close, peppering kisses all over your head, his love and warmth enveloping you. Through your tears, you whispered, "I love you, Hwa."

You could feel his smile against your skin as he leaned his head against yours, his voice soft and reassuring, "I love you more, my wife, and that'll never change."

In the days that followed, you found yourself hardly ever alone. Your husband seemed determined to stay by your side every moment, as if he hadn't already been doing so since he dismissed all his friends. Now, he was even more attentive and vigilant, always ensuring he was nearby to keep watch over you. And whenever he needed to retreat to his study for brief meetings with Jongho, Eunsook remained faithfully by your side.

Today was another one of those days when he had no choice but to attend to some work. He hadn't been attending the daily assemblies for a while, so the least he could do was go through some reports to stay updated on the latest happenings in court.

Meanwhile, the head maid remained by your side in your room. You sat with a cookbook in your hand, diligently trying to learn new recipes. As the saying goes, the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, and although you already had a hold on Seonghwa's heart, you were determined to work even harder to keep it safe with you.

"You've been quite busy lately, mistress, with cooking and embroidering. I think the master might be getting a bit jealous that you're not as focused on him as you are on these tasks," she joked, gently brushing your hair as she observed your focused expression.

With a playful giggle, you shot her a glance, "Is he really? Well, everything I do, I do it to be a better wife for him and a better mother to this little one," you said, smiling down at your growing bump.

Eunsook's expression softened, "I'm just kidding. I'm sure the master knows that," she reassured before pausing, "Mistress, have you both thought about baby names yet?"

At that, your eyes widened, and you set down the book in your hands, "Oh dear, we haven't. I've been so invested in everything else, it seems I might have overlooked the most important thing."

She chuckled, rubbing your back soothingly, "Don't worry, you still have plenty of time until the little one is born. Perhaps you and the master could start thinking about it now."

Later that night, as you lay in bed next to your husband, the words of the head maid lingered in your mind like a persistent whisper. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavily on your eyelids, you found yourself unable to sleep as your thoughts drifted towards potential names for the future baby Park. Each name you considered brought with it a flood of emotions and images of what your child might look like, how they would grow, and the kind of person they would become.

Sensing your slight movements, Seonghwa kissed your head softly, his voice gentle, "Are you still awake, my love?"

You grinned sheepishly, patting his chest, "I'm fine, Hwa. You go ahead and sleep. You must be tired."

But he sighed, gently sitting up with you still in his arms, ensuring the comforter covered you, "Not as tired as you. You're carrying a little person. Now, do you want to tell me why you're still not sleeping?"

Smiling shyly, you met his gaze, "I was talking to Eunsook earlier and realised... we haven't thought of any baby names."

His mouth formed an 'O' in realisation, mirroring your surprise. It seemed he, too, had not given it much thought. Nodding slowly, he whispered, "That's right, we haven't," pulling you closer to him, he relished the way your head fits perfectly in the crook of his neck, "So, what do you have in mind then? Have you managed to come up with anything with all that thinking, hm?"

You replied, nervously nibbling on your lip, "Actually, I have thought of a name. If it's a girl, Yeonjoo feels right."

He hummed, considering deeply, "Yeonjoo... like a lotus princess?"

You beamed, "Exactly. She'd be our little princess, growing up in the House of Lotus."

His heart swelled; your choice held significance. It wasn't just a random pretty name; it carried depth. Planting a kiss on your cheek, he smiled, "It's perfect. So, if it's a girl, Yeonjoo it is."

You cheered, "Okay, any ideas for a boy?"

He hesitated, then brightened, "You know what? I do have one in mind, though it might not be as thoughtful as yours. How about Jiyeong? It means a wise and brave hero, and it could also symbolise a flower petal, like the lotus. It'd be wonderful if he grew up to be intelligent and brave enough to protect his eomma," he murmured, gently placing his hand on your bump and stroking it.

"I think Jiyeong is a wonderful choice, Hwa, if it's a boy," you whispered, a sense of relief washing over you now that you finally had names for your child.

Covering his hand on your stomach with yours, you looked up at him with slightly wet eyes, "Gosh, can you believe we're going to be parents in a few months?"

"It's surreal sometimes, my love. And I'll admit, I am a little scared. But I know we'll manage. It won't be easy, but as long as we face it together, we'll be fine."

Yes, I know we will.

The first three months seemed to pass in a whirlwind, with Yunho's weekly visits becoming a familiar routine. Each time, he checked on your condition and brought herbs to boost your health and stabilise the pregnancy, ensuring everything progressed smoothly. Amidst this, life outside your little family continued to unfold.

You recall a particular evening when Wooyoung rushed in, desperate for your husband's aid to rescue a certain Miss Han. In a matter of weeks, she became a temporary resident in your household while still courting the private investigator. Her presence was delightful as she eagerly assisted you in cooking and embroidering, all while awaiting Wooyoung's eventual proposal that would take her away.

And through him, you learned of Hongjoong's latest job, assisting the youngest miss of the Baek family. It appeared to affect the dressmaker unexpectedly, stirring emotions no one had anticipated, especially him, even requiring a little nudge from both Seonghwa and Wooyoung to realise his feelings.

Before you knew it, you found yourself seated in the dining hall, surrounded by your husband's friends. Giving your hand a squeeze, Seonghwa cleared his throat to grab their attention, "Guys," he began, "we've gathered you all here today because we have an announcement to make."

Hongjoong, arms crossed, chimed in, "Pssh, I had a feeling. I knew you wouldn't be treating us to a meal for no reason."

Yunho's knowing grin widened, excited to see the dressmaker's reaction while Wooyoung leaned forward excitedly in his seat, nudging San beside him, who smiled back but inwardly wished the investigator would leave him alone. Mingi promptly set down his wine glass, eager to hear what was to come.

"I hope you're all excited because you're going to be uncles soon," the general announced, prompting cheers from everyone at the table.

The lovely Miss Han, seated beside you, wasted no time in giving you a side hug, though she had already been privy to your little secret. She had even been considerate enough to keep her man in the dark about it.

Wooyoung joined in the celebration, clapping enthusiastically, oblivious that his other half had been aware the whole time, "I knew it! I could tell she was pregnant from my first visit all those months ago. You've been so oddly careful with her ever since!"

At that, Hongjoong's expression darkened, "What do you mean, all those months ago? How far along are you, my lady?"

You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly, "Three months."

The dressmaker's jaw dropped in disbelief, "You didn't think to tell us until now? Park Seonghwa, what kind of friend are you?"

Yunho scoffed and rolled his eyes, "See, that's why you're an idiot. What does Miss Baek even see in you, I'll never know. Obviously, they wanted to wait until her condition was stable before telling everyone. Why do you think I've been so busy for the past few months?"

Hongjoong shot him a glare, "Oh, I don't know? Maybe because you've been trying to spend all your time with a certain Miss Ryu?"

The physician sputtered in shock, but before the argument could escalate, Jongho appeared behind them, smacking both on the back, "That's enough, you two. Please continue this another time."

Your husband interjected, shooting the assistant a grateful smile, "That's right. As Yunho mentioned, we just wanted to wait until it was safe before telling you guys."

San and Mingi softened, offering heartfelt congratulations to you and Seonghwa, prompting the rest of the guys to do the same. However, the peace was short-lived. Wooyoung eagerly raised his hand, "Ooh, can I please be the godfather?"

The dressmaker was quick to object, "Excuse me? If anyone here is to be the godfather, it's obviously me! Know your place, you fool."

"Oh, dear god, here we go again," your husband muttered beside you.

You couldn't help but grin at their endless shenanigans, glancing down at your stomach and rubbing it affectionately. You already knew this baby would be spoiled rotten even before entering the world. It seemed this little one was already the star of the show.

I contemplated how much of the pregnancy I should cover, but I think I'll only do this much for now! Because any further than this, and that might spoil some of the other members' spinoffs. I shall focus on finishing up all the rest of the stories after this, and who knows? There could be more bonus chapters in the future, we'll see~

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/6): Tumblr is a bitch and won't let me mention more than 5 users in a single sentence, so now my tag list looks like a complete joke🤡

@huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo |

@sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @skzline |

@itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @xoxkii @avantalem @famishalll |

@soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol |

@atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii |

@ddaeing @sansaurora9904 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo |

@puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks |

@aliona124754 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @1117promises @deltamoon666 |

@st4rhwa @hikarii02 @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @thunderous-wolf |

@minkiflwr @starssongs98 @kawaiikels @en-happiness @cheolliehugs |

@persnyako @startinystay @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina |

@kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @laurenwidjaja |

@idkwgoh @loveateez @linosllvr @idfkeddieishot @yuyubun

#edenesth #the way to his heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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neil-gaiman · 4 months

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Dear Neil,

I hope you're fine!

In 2023 one of the nicest and reveberating thing, that happened to me, was, that I got know Terry's work and after some time, your works too, and, of course Good Omens (yeah...I don't know either, what took me so long...😉).

So, thank you so much for your written universe, I feel totally comfortable in it!

Some time ago, I also got your rewriting of the fairytale "Hänsel and Gretel" by the Brothers Grimm in my hands. I totally like how you made it your own in some way, but also did not disregard its core about wits, endurance, gumption and love. And I have high standards😊, because I grew up with all the Grimm's fairytales and I, even as a small kid, disliked the editions, which tried to paint over fear, sorrow and in some tales, violence and horror, too. Without these plots the solution in the end would just be half the relìef! As you said in your review about Tatars The Annotaited Brothers Grimm the fairtyales are magic mirrors about the world we see or we want to see and which we have to cope and deal with every day.

My three favourite ones are

1.Die Bremer Stadtmusikanten/The Town Musicians of Bremen

Even if your closest people tell you, you are not enough (anymore), you don't fit in and you are worthless, you one day, will find your bunch of soulmates, who are good for you and you can the hell Rock'n Roll with!

2. Die sieben Raben/The seven Ravens

The girl does not wait for some Prince Charming. She herself gets stuff done and does not get herself haunted by some mistakes her parents did years ago.

3. Das tapfere Schneiderlein/The valiant dressmaker

Sometimes weird and spontanous decision can turn your whole life around, in a good way, because they give you the self-consciousness to get it on.

And (finally, sorry) here come my questions:

1. Which are your favourite fairytales of the Brothers Grimm?

2. And why?

I wish you and your family a very merry Christmas, or holidays, and a very good year!

Have fun with Good Omens 3! ❤🌠

Greetings from Germany!

I like your choices, although I'd swap Hansel and Gretel for the Musicians of Bremen.

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honestsycrets · 7 months

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HELLO, HELLO! Okay, so this drabble prompt/idea is kinda sorta in the vein of Querido (I only think about Old Western Miguel now I cannot help it pls forgive me head empty only man and hörse), so pls skip if you're not inspired or in the mood for more in this genre!

Still, I offer you this: Sheriff Miguel.

He's someone all the women have their eyes on, and he'd have his eyes on them, too, if he were younger. But he has a baby girl to worry about, a runaway wife to forget, and a town to keep an eye on, especially when a woman from the big city pays the little down a visit.

He meets her when he loses Gabriella in the market's crowd, only to find her tugging on a fine dress belonging to a fine woman.

(P.S. reading your writing has inspired me to get back into writing my own reader insert stuff 💖 really love your work, keep it up!!)

bumblebee | sheriff!miguel x dressmaker!reader

❛ pairing | sheriff-singleparent!miguel o'hara x dressmaker!reader

❛ type | extended drabble, not-explicit, wc: 2600ish

❛ summary | miguel loses his daughter-- and finds a part of himself he thought was long past dead.

❛ tags | self-edited, querido au, f!reader, sheriff!miguel, dressmaker!reader, implied parental abandonment, some mention of thievery, widowed!reader, mostly fluff, some mention of death, spanish not translated.

❛ sy's notes | i intended this to be a drabble but... it's quite a bit longer. anon, i hope you end up writing to your heart's content.

Miguel ain’t the kinda man women really need. He’s the kinda man they think they want. A big man with a big name, sure, but he’s saddled with what their fathers colloquially call baggage. A little three-year-old girl with ambitions of rolling on out of this little town by rolling on out of his fingertips.

“Oye, Gwen,” he catches the arm of his deputy. She’s out on the town just as he was, making rounds about the grassy plain where the market was booming. With too few stalls, the marketgoers visit full wooden wagons chock-full of goods. This year, there were new boxes of small circular chocolates. Once every year, his quiet little town became a bustling fuck fest with foreigners running a muck of it all. As sheriff, he just had to deal with it.

“What’s it, sheriff?” she asks. “Something wrong?”

“You seen my littlin anywhere? Swore she was right here.”

This is his penance for fooling around with the hearts of pretty women: chasing him his own little girl and minding the crowd. His long, slicked-back hair was all kinds of out of place, whirling over his wrinkled forehead. He shoves a strand of grey hair back in place out of his dark eyes and scans his little town. She could’ve slipped into any creaky old building that wasn't locked up or hitched a ride on a wagon she didn’t belong on. Or, alternatively…

“Miguel! Rio saw her by the sweets.” Former Sherriff Morales tells him, standing by his son’s stall of sweet roasted corn. Ordinarily, he’d give it a begrudging visit. Miguel whirls around on his muddy leather boots, throwing him a nod of thanks with Gwen short on his tail.

“Sounds promisin’,” she says. “Could be searchin’ for Lyla or Peter.”

“Thank you for the help, Sheriff,” he grumbled, shoving his way past a sea of cream, brown, and black dresses. Gwen could spider her way through the groups of people with her comparatively slender frame. As a consequence of Miguel’s hulking frame, he’s markedly slower in his search.

“Ain’t here either,” Gwen hops back to his side. “You sure she wandered off?”

"She had to."

The alternative was… well, he didn't want to think about it. Out of his periphery, he caught the glimmer of polished metal. He spots his daughter’s peachy dress, bundled up with a fat white bow complete with a bell. He put the thing on thinking that, ideally, his little girl would jingle up some hell of noise if she got lost. Some good that bell did.

“You lost mi amor?”

Lost. The word stands out to him first, all dressed up in a sugar cube of a voice. His Gabriella tugs on a stranger’s long gown, eyes pricked with tears streaming down her cheeks. Of all the people-- she couldn’t just pick on someone she knew? Head to Rio’s hostel, find Deputy Gwen stalking around, or even Hobie’s bum ass strumming a tune on the old stage. No, she’s with a strange woman.

“Now don’t you cry,” you dab away the stray tears with an embroidered handkerchief. “I’ll find you home.”

You’re not from here because you’re all done up like a buttercup in spring when the women here only broke out color for church. Corset sucking in the finest assets, a buttercream bustle underneath that buttercup yellow skirt. Hair up in a waterfall of curls and covered by a small slouched hat of flowers. You held a parasol for the evening sun, keeping it off your tanned skin.

“There,” Miguel set his hands on his hips, catching his head in a shake. Gwen leans over on the ball of her feet and stares straight down the barrel of a path.

“My my,” she says. “Ain’t she a looker. Why are you-- You look good, Miguel.”

She’s caught on his frantic fiddling. The way Miguel straightens his tie into his waistcoat and checks the chain that drapes along his side. He checks the time on his cracked pocketwatch and spins it between his fingers. Gwen leans up to flick a stray strand of hair away from his face.

“Think so?”

“Entirely presentable.”

"¿De veras?" Miguel clears his throat, “Best be on my way to get her.” Miguel loops his fingers on his fine leather belt and waltzes right on up to your stall of hand-sewn dresses.

For once in his life, he feels underdressed. A man sets some coins in your hand, plucking up a small communion dress for his daughter. With ruffles, lace, and the occasional ribbon. He’s not sure how much luck you’d have selling more than scraps of ribbon in this little town. You set the coins aside, turning your attention back to his daughter who-- somehow, got a brand new ribbon bundled in her ponytail between his fiddling and the walk over.

“Buenas tardes,” he clears his throat, whipping out his metal badge. “I’m Sherriff O’Hara.”

“Encantada, Sheriff O’Hara. You’re looking as pretty as a penny this fine afternoon. Can’t be wanting any of my dresses. My name is… well, how can I help you?”

“Papa,” Gabriella coos as if this whole mess wasn’t on her tiny little shoulders. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad, not yet.

“Yes, mami, Sheriff O’Hara. Do you know old Sheriff O’Hara?” Miguel suppresses his delight as you lift her up onto your hip. Most days, he didn’t notice his own melancholy. Coming home to his little girl soothed all that like a good helping of booze after a bad wound. “She likes you.”

You sure talk pretty. He clears his throat, pulling on the sloppy tie that feels a whole lot hotter all of a sudden. He shouldn't be acting like this. Has it really been that long since he’s been with a girl? He couldn't go to the saloon and pick any one of those lovesick girls. The town wouldn’t continually elect a loose man. Miguel’s eyes catch the flickering gold of a bumblebee locket on your chest. He traces the curve of its wings, wrapping around a crusted gem.

“‘Course she does, she’s my girl. I lost Gabi up in the crowd flow.”

“You lost her? You can’t tell me you’re the kinda man that does it all. Where is your wife?”

Where is your wife? The question tormented him. He could do it all. Managing the sloppy, slow thieves and putting down the occasional drunken brawl. At the end of the night, he came home to his empty home and saw his little girl. Miguel’s gaze danced along the puffy clouds in the sky. The fluffy clouds drift the same as usual, the same old slow draw, unknowledgeable about the change in his life. He suppresses the distant melancholy in his voice in surfacing old memories.

“Ain’t got a wife. She ran off on me with some wolf. Usually, I got a sitter for my girl but, she came down with a fever.”

“A wolf?” you repeat after him, “Why, you mean a gentleman?”

A gentleman, he scoffs under his breath.

“If you wanna call him that. He was an outlaw.”

“I’m mighty sorry, Sheriff.” You looked at the little girl in your arms. Gabriella’s small fingers fiddle with the glimmering gold pendant on your chest. He throws her a look-- behave. She’s not paying attention one bit. You set your parasol down, freeing the necklace and setting it in her tiny fist. “I’m a whole widow myself. Lost my man in the war and never got the chance to have one’a my own.”

“You don’t say. You on the market?”

“On the market like cattle?” you teased. If he’s not mistaken, that shy smile of yours was all his. Maybe you like him. It's a signal that he could keep going.

“Coño, no. You’re too fine for that,” the words are buttery smooth, but upon discovering how the words may come off, he realizes he might be sliding into a trap on the back of those words. Your lips are slightly agape, half in shock. “Pretty. You’re too pretty.”

“Oh, Sheriff, don’t worry your head,” you adjust Gabriella on your hip, swaying in place like it was natural. “I ain’t one to take offense to pretty words. Suppose you want your niña back?”

There went his chance.

"That'd be best," he slides his hands underneath Gabriella’s tiny arms to pick her up. The pendant she held clattered free from her grip, nestled in the deep grass. You were about to pick it up when a scrawny thing of a man swiped it from the grass. For an instant, Miguel thought it might be Pavi, who loved to be helpful in the most annoying ways. Catching doors even when it's men, dropping his scarf on mud for girls, a charming and shy kid. It isn’t, though, it’s that weasel he seems to be throwing in the pin every damn week, bolting off in a full-on run.

“Ay, not my locket!” you gasped, plucking your skirts over your boots.

“Maldito niño--” Miguel stops you, sliding Gabriella back into your arms. Not that she was complaining, tiny hands slapping together in a rendition of applause as Miguel darted after him, his booming steps beating the ground. “Get back here, kid!”

“Dios, you sure have a busy papa. I'm sure he’ll back in two shakes of a lamb's tail.” You looked between the little girl nestled comfortably in your arms and the parting sea of the crowd. Gwen zooms past, eliciting another round of jovial laughter from Gabriella O’Hara. She does love a good game.

It ain’t that Miguel wants to leave his girl with any old fool that waltzed on into his town. But he knows his community, knows they’d not leave him out to dry, and knows that taking his daughter on a town-wide chase with a skinny little weasel around town is not the move. Especially not if he has a gun, which he did, because of course he did. Now, the man has a jail cell and Miguel has a crook in his neck from where the buffoon fell through the crooked second floor of the post office.

He works the sore muscle the whole way back to your wagon. It’s high time for eating. His stomach was raging after the scent of someone’s pulled pork, the roasted sweetness of corn. If we wanted to be presentable then, he sure wasn’t now. Dust was a second skin on his pants and aged boots. He walks past the platform where Hobie plays a tune with his banda. Most vendors were wrapping right on up for some proper debauchery.

He finds you there, swaying to the beat of the music with Gabriella hanging in your arms. Her tiny hands were around an ear of elote already. Guess she extorted a snack out of you.

“One gold locket,” Miguel heaves out the words as he digs in his pocket, whirling the golden chain into your small hand. You flip it over once, then twice, examining it for any defects. “Better to keep that tucked away out here. Puts a target on your back right quick.”

“Muchísimas gracias, sheriff. You're a sweetheart,” you reach out, grazing his scratchy cheek with your supple lips. Gabriella is flatly squished between his sweaty chest and yours. She’s fallen asleep flat against your chest. “You don’t know how much this necklace means to me.”

There are whispers from the women he’s turned down. The viejitas who have been trying to set him up for a full-on year now, those who told him he needed to find a girl as soon as possible to marry. He didn’t want to. Not unless it made sense.

“Yes, well, you could tell me,” Miguel finally picks his daughter from your arms. She’s out like a light. “If you want.”

“It was my mami's, once upon a time. She gave it to me on my wedding day," you explain. "It's all I got left of her. I wonder what she'd think of me these days, travelin' town to town like I got secrets."

"You ever think of settlin' down again?" He turns his gaze past Hobie’s banda, to the yellowing sky. The sun is setting out over the horizon, casting warm orange and soft pink into the air. The road is full of wagons. The clip-clop of horses running their way to the next town, some checked in to the hostel.

"A veces," you explain. "If it feels right, I think I will."

"Yeah?" He settles on the bed of your wagon. The dresses were packaged and kept in locked chests, kept away from the bed of the wagon where your blanket was. Most of the foreigners have left, but you. He doesn’t have to guess to know that it was his fault. “You off to Rio’s hostel?”

“‘fraid I’m out of town,” you smiled at him. “She ain’t got any rooms. Next city over might.”

“Stay with me,” he says. “The night. Bit too late to get robbed on the road with all them pretty dresses you make. Wouldn’t be right to be sheriff and let a young thing out there without company. Some'a them outlaws take wives that way, y'know.”

“Oh, Sheriff O’Hara, ain’t no one care about widows on the road,” your hand finds your chest. It’s said with a laugh, as though someone, somewhere, made you feel less than. It wasn’t going to be Miguel.

"Ain't a widow if you're carried off." He reclines, watching the figures of couples dancing to whatever the hell Hobie was playing on his guitar. His eyes track over Hobie’s gloved fingers that prance across the strings, waiting for you to walk back on that stupid comment. You do, snapping out a fan in the waist of your heavy dress to fan yourself.

“You really sure? I don’t mean to be a burden. I’m sure you got better to do than take care of company.”

“You took care of my girl. Least I could do. Long as you go to church in the morning.”

“Oh, now he’s askin’ me to church. When’s the wedding, Sherriff?”

“Miguel. Soon as you want it,” he returns, half a smile pulling at a normally closed-off face. Miguel turns to set his Gabi down on your blanket, throwing you a look for permission. You nod, watching her roll on the wool thing, setting her hands under her cheek until she gets into a position that isn’t as bad as laying on her back. He tucks her hair back over the shell of her ear, exhaling a breath. Somewhere between his ex-wife’s flight from the town and today, she began to look more and more like him. He’s thankful for that. He doesn’t need more memories of her. Only needed to get through each day, and make the next better than the one before.

“She’s tuckered out,” you lean down, just by his face. “All that escapin’ papa work.”

“Si,” Miguel hums as he massages his sore shoulder. “Tell me about it. I’m getting too old for this.”

He lifts his head from his daughter’s tiny body, reminded of all the times someone told him to get married. If not the women chasing him around his jail at all hours of the day, then the women at church who, at the moment, were gossiping away. He could hear the prattle already: sheriff likes rich girls. The type to have a golden locket and French silk. The luxury of hopping from town to town like some no-good woman. He’d wager, your husband ain’t had the money to take care of you but for these light luxuries. Traveling town to town wasn't no small feat.

Tch. He’d deal with it tomorrow when he took you to church. Scandalous as that was.

“Fancy a dance?” he offered up his hand.

You remove your gloves, skin is soft and supple against his, only marred by the pricks of a needle. Your gloved fingers grazed his scarred palm, tracing the long strike that marred his open palm. There’s a thought there, just behind the reach of your playful eyes. He couldn’t quite reach it.

“I’d love to, Miguel.”

Something tells him he has time to.

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #miggy x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara drabble #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman imagine #spiderman imagines #spiderman fic #spiderman 2099 x reader

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 10 months

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Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia - Chapter 2: A Mere Lady (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 2: A Mere Lady

Daemon has returned to King’s Landing. Yet it is not in his nature to sit idle.

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

Warnings: That extreme slow burn once more lmao, Daemon being an idiot, Westerosi sexism, mention of violence, Daemon and Y/N bickering like children again

Word Count: 2.9k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: Thank you for all the support for the first chapter of Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia! It really warms my heart to see all your reblogs and likes 💗 this chapter is a bit of a filler one, but something big will happen next chapter (can you guess what it is? 👀) I hope you enjoy reading!

wonderful dividers courtesy of @firefly-graphics !

The shadows darkened and the bustle of noise in the Red Keep slowly faded into a faint hum as night enveloped the castle. I had just finished drawing up and helping Aemma into a bath when a maid announced the presence of King Viserys. I hurriedly rose from where I was preparing the Queen’s nightclothes and curtsied. “Your Grace.” Viserys merely waved away my greeting, putting a hand on my shoulder. “At ease, Y/N. We are not in the presence of other courtiers, you need not refer to me by my title.” I smiled fondly at Viserys. “Well, if my king commands it. Are you here to see Aemma? She is in the midst of her nightly soak” Viserys’ brows furrowed, “Of course. How has she been? Are the baths of any help?”

“Aemma says it is effective to a degree, but the moment she steps out of the bath, the aches return.” Viserys hummed in acknowledgement; “Looks like our son is taking quite the toll on my beloved. He must be an active lad.” My smile widened at that: Viserys’ pride in his unborn son was clearly strong. But my smile dropped when I heard Viserys’ next words, “Have you had a chance to run into Daemon by any chance, Y/N?” I chewed hard on my lip at his question, making Viserys raise his eyebrows and laugh at my obvious distaste for his younger brother. “I will take that as a yes. Are the both of you still having trouble getting along?”

“We get along about as well as fire and oil, I’m afraid.” Viserys let out a huge belly laugh at that, “And who is the oil in this situation, you or Daemon?” “Daemon,” I answered without hesitation. “Seven hells, I have no doubt his love for provoking me is fueled by the gods themselves.” Viserys looked amused, “Well, as your king, I am pleased to inform you that I have listened to your petitions and assigned him back to his old post at the City’s Watch. Mayhaps he will cease annoying you with this new responsibility.”

“I thank you for your graciousness, Your Grace,” I curtsied slightly. “Your justice is indeed swift and efficient.” “Well, a king must care for his subjects above all else. And you are like a sister to me.” Viserys patted me on the shoulder, “I must go and check on my beloved now. A King must not keep his Queen waiting after all.” I nodded and turned back to my duties as he ambled away.

The morning sun lazily clambered up the sky, causing the Red Keep to begin to bustle about with noise once more. A servant helped me lace up my new Tyrell green gown, with small gold rocaille prints dotting the bodice and gold roses stitched throughout. Autumn had fallen upon King’s Landing, and the air was beginning to fill with a biting chill, hence my father had ordered the dressmakers to design the dress with fitted long sleeves. I was a little uncomfortable, since I was unused to dresses with fitted sleeves, but it did make it easier for me to tend to Aemma.

I cast a glance at the fireplace. The flames had long died out, but in the midst of the charred black wood, I could see the remnants of parchment. The new dress from Father had not arrived without condition. I had not bothered to read the letter - knowing it would be full of eligible lord names and pleading from my father to just pick one and put him out of his misery - instead chucking it into the fire without a second thought.

“My lady?” Blinking, I looked up at the servant girl. “I am finished with your hair. Are you in need of anything else?” I studied my reflection in the vanity, patting a stray strand of hair down gently. “No, everything is fine. You’ve done a wonderful job. Thank you, Rebecca.” She smiled and curtsied before scurrying off. I put on my favourite pair of gold earrings, checking my reflection one last time before striding out of my chambers.

Aemma was never an early riser, and pregnancy fatigue had only served to prolong her hours spent in bed, hence I always took this opportunity to wander around the Red Keep while undertaking any errands assigned to me at the same time. After making an errand run to the washerwomen to pick up Aemma’s clothes, I bustled over to the Grand Maester’s quarters to request for the Queen’s medicinal teas. I also paid a visit to the seamstress to get a few garments of Aemma’s altered, as she had complained about them being too tight around her bump.

With my list of tasks fulfilled, I breathed out a sigh of relief. Aemma had yet to rise, hence I was wandering aimlessly around the hallways. It was then that I heard a few lads whispering as they passed me. “Did you hear about Prince Daemon’s latest exploits?” “Aye, I heard the smallfolk’s cries all the way from Flea Bottom in my quarters last night. The king has summoned him to the Small Council meeting this morning to demand answers, I’ve heard.” “The prince truly cannot go a day without causing trouble…”

Curiosity piqued, I listened thoughtfully to their conversation until their voices faded away. Daemon? Causing trouble? There was nothing novel of the matter. Yet, the lads had whispered about hearing the cries of the smallfolk. And from what I heard, it did not seem like the cries that Daemon was fond of eliciting.

My nosiness getting the better of me, I turned on my heel, my green skirts swishing behind me. Arriving at the base of the White Knights Tower, I slipped inside a room before anyone could notice and question my presence. The room in question was a secondary armoury, but it was rarely used as the weapons stored here were either blunted after years of use or outright broken. I pushed aside a false pillar made of highly porous stone, revealing a narrow gap which I squeezed through with ease.

Pulling back the pillar to cover the gap once more, my eyes trailed around the expanse of the space as I found myself in a familiar winding hallway. Sunlight poured in through numerous crumbling holes in the ceiling, and the air was filled with a dank smell. Sneezing slightly, I gathered my skirts and quickly made my way through the familiar maze of passageways. I nearly forgot to take a left, almost ending up in the secret halls in the Tower of the Hand, but I retraced my paths and breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the Hand’s disdainful voice. Here, the passageways were much more spacious and bright, being situated on the upper floors of Maegor’s Holdfast.

Peeking through one of the spaces in the walls, I caught sight of the Small Council seated around the table. Daemon was sitting near the head of the table still clad in his armour, his face streaked with dirt. Unfortunately, his back was turned to me, so I couldn’t glimpse his expression. However, I noticed most of the lords were looking noticeably on edge, especially the Hand. Otto’s face was even more unpleasant than usual, and that was saying something.

By the Gods, what had Daemon done now?

“You might not know this unless you left the safety of the Red Keep, but much of the city is seen by the smallfolk as lawless, and terrifying.” Daemon’s smooth voice echoed throughout the room. Otto’s face turned as sour as spoiled milk. I had to restrain a snort, he was not incorrect, the residents of the Red Keep, particularly those of noble blood, were very far removed from the lives of the smallfolk. I had once ridden with Rhaenyra and Alicent to the Dragonpit, passing by the streets of Flea Bottom, and safe to say, I was very glad for my life of luxury in the Red Keep, although I did feel sorry for them.

“...I just hope you don’t have to maim half of my city to achieve this.” “Time will tell,” came Daemon’s response. Even with my view of his facial expressions obstructed, I could nearly picture the smirk on his face, clear as day. I rolled my eyes. It seems that Daemon’s first night returning to his duties as commander of the City Watch had been bloody, to say the least.

“If only the prince would show the same devotion to his lady wife as he does to his work, your Grace.” I snapped to attention once more, eyes keenly observing the proceedings through the space. Gods be good, the Hand cannot give it a rest, can he? I suppose he could not: his distaste for Daemon clouded him from better judgement. But he should know better, I bit my lip to restrain the laugh I know would follow. Daemon always knew how to find someone’s sore spots, and Otto Hightower was as prickly as those strange Dornish desert dwelling plants.

“I’d gladly give Lady Rhea to you, Lord Hightower, if you are in want of a woman to warm your bed,” Otto’s face lost its previous smugness as his eyes grew wide in anger and he stiffened at Daemon’s remarks. “Your own lady wife passed recently-” There was a scraping of a chair on the floor as the Hand towered over the table. I recognised the expression on his face, it was one I had worn many times in my life.

The visceral urge to punch Daemon Targaryen in the face.

I clapped my hand over my mouth, trying to fight the battle to keep my laughter at bay

“Did she not?” I lost the battle as a small wheeze erupted from my covered mouth. My eyes widening, I watched as the men at the Small Council table stiffen, particularly Daemon - his stance suddenly became more pronounced and alert. I know it would be hard to discover me unless the men had knowledge of the secret passages, yet I felt my heart thundering in my chest.

But the gods were good, and the men soon dismissed the sound as Viserys attempted to soothe Otto’s anger. Finally, after Viserys admonished Daemon for his actions- albeit not as fiercely as the Hand would have hoped for, judging by how his sharp glare had not subsided in the least after the king’s judgement - Daemon got up to leave, the doors shutting behind him with a definitive thunk. I dusted off my skirts and readied myself to leave as well. The excitement was over, and I had gotten the information I wanted to know anyway. Walking through the hallways again, I debated on which path I should take to ensure my exit would not be noticed by anyone. The nearest exit I knew was immediately out of the question, and I could not sneak out through the exits in any of the royal apartments, because there was an ever-present risk of being discovered by a nosy servant. Sighing, I continued walking, lost in thought, until a figure pushed me against a wall.

I opened my mouth to scream but a hand that smelt of sweat and something coppery covered my mouth, putting a finger to his lips. My eyes narrowed as he released his hand from my mouth. “What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing?” I spouted out angrily as those godsforsaken pair of lilac eyes stared down at me with amusement. “I think I should be asking you that, byka zaldrīzes,” Daemon raised an eyebrow.

“I asked first. How did you even know I was here?” I grumbled, dusting off my dress. The pounding in my chest was so loud I was certain the whole of the Red Keep could hear how much of a terrified wreck I was.

Instead of answering, Daemon reached his hand out to brush at my hair, as I observed him with wary eyes. Then, he flicked my forehead. “Ow! What was that for?” He smirked, “I see you took the armoury entrance, judging from the grime on your face and in your hair.” “And? It was one of the only ways I could get into the passageways without being seen.”

The prince hummed infuriatingly under his breath. “Has anyone ever told you how fond you are of making your life more difficult, byka zaldrīzes?” “Well forgive me, your Grace, but I do not wish to be caught in your apartments trying to sneak into a secret passage. The Red Keep is akin to a vicious beast when it comes to gossip.” The prince let out a triumphant “ha!” as I looked quizzically at him. Had he finally lost his mind?

“Formalities again,” he said, delighted, “I was hoping that yesterday’s episode in the throne room was not the last I would hear of you addressing me formally.” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “My question remains unanswered. How did you know I was in here?” The prince snorted. “I think every one of those lickspittles in the small council heard your laugh. I was the only one to recognise it however.”

I huffed. “Well thank the gods it was just you. Had it been the Hand-”

“That cunt is too busy licking my brother’s boots to seek you out, byka zaldrīzes,” Daemon teased, beginning to walk away. Rolling my eyes once again, I followed closely after. “I’m surprised you still remember the entrances. I was of the impression you would get lost if you ever came here again..” “From how many times you dragged me through these hallways to go catch a peak of King Jaehaerys and Prince Baelon in council sessions, it would take me a century to forget these halls.” I japed, as we rounded a corner that took us straight into an old closet in Daemon’s chambers. As we stumbled out, he settled down on his bed with a sigh of relief, and began to remove his armour. I crossed my arms as I leaned against the window, “There is still a lady here, your Grace.” “I don’t see any ladies, only a nosy bird.” “Hilarious.”

I averted my eyes as Daemon began to remove the gold cloak slung behind his shoulders. “I heard you crippled half the smallfolk.” “An exaggeration,” Daemon waved his hand dismissively. “And if so, they were criminals. Looters. Rapers. Petty thieves.” “And yet, you killed numerous innocents in your path to slaughter those criminals.” I said quietly.

Daemon was silent for a while, and I thought he had left to take a bath. But I was startled yet again when I felt a finger softly tilting my chin upward. Lilac eyes swirling with mild annoyance and mirth met my pensive (Y/E/C) ones. “Spare me the reprimand, Y/N. My brother and Lord Cunttower have already said more than enough.” He handed me a wet cloth, and I sighed before brushing it across his face, getting rid of the grime. Our dynamic has not changed since childhood, I mused internally. I walked away to dump the grime covered cloth in a basket for the servants to collect later.

“Do you not agree with my actions?” He motioned me to sit next to him on his bed. Wordlessly, I sat. Our eyes met, his searching mine for my reaction. “The violence was unwarranted,” I began delicately, watching Daemon’s eyes narrow. “However, I’d like to think the ends justify the means. I share Lord Corlys’ view on this matter.”

Daemon leaned back on his bedpost with a smile. “As I thought, you were more sensible than you looked.” His voice rose in volume as he ran a hand through his white blonde locks in frustration. “Pray tell, I just do not understand why my brother only sees the bad, and not the good. Even a mere lady like you could understand. Has that cunt of a Hand pulled the wool over my brother’s eyes so far that he is blind to the welfare of his city?”

Not receiving a response, he looked over at the Lady Tyrell. She sat there, eyes fixed to the ground, her mouth set in a thin line, her hands clasped in her lap. “Y/N?” “And begging your pardon, what exactly does ‘being a mere lady’ supposed to entail?”

Daemon had a slight hunch he might have made a mistake. “I was not implying anyth-” “Really?” Y/N interrupted sharply. “Or did you just consider my wits inferior to yours simply because I am a woman?”

She stood abruptly, curtsying as she did. “Forgive me, my prince, I have other matters to attend to. If you have had enough of this mere lady’s presence, I shall be off lest a servant discovers us and sets tongues wagging.” She walked briskly out of the room, before Daemon could even formulate a response. Daemon stared at her retreating figure, and he groaned in frustration as he removed the last of his armour. His words had come out unintentionally, and he had not intended to insult her. Why was she so offended by them?

He huffed as soon as he had the thought. Why was it of any concern? He cared not for what that annoying brat thought of him. Sighing, he got up to ready himself for another visit to Flea’s Bottom. He had not seen Mysaria for a time.

translation: byka zaldrīzes: little dragon

And that’s chapter 2! Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :)) Since chapter 2 was a little bit of a filler chap, chapter 3 should hopefully be released in about three days (as soon as I get that presentation that has been the source of my torment over the past few days on Tuesday done lol) Let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist in the comments or through this form! 💗

Taglist: @drwho-ess @graniairish

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sanityshorror · 2 years

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#creepypasta #creepypasta incorrect #incorrect creepypasta #incorrect creepypasta quotes #creepypasta incorrect quotes #killian lynch creepypasta #julius the dressmaker #the dressmaker from hell #hellbound creepypasta #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #homicidal liu #liu woods #creepypasta x reader #ben drowned #slenderman #laughing jack #Jason the toymaker #marble hornets

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scarfaxia · 8 days

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introducing...

Lucien Delaney

Alias(s): the psychiatrist, Dr Delaney

Species: Demon (Previously human)

Age: 33 (locked)

Birth Date: October 17, 1858

Death: sometime in 1891

Gender: Male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexual Orientation: ???

Height: 6'3

Weight: 177lbs

Hair: dirty blonde

Eyes: green

Body Type: average build

Ethnicity: Irish

Place of Birth: Ireland, Dublin

Current Residence: pocket dimension in hell

Notable Features: scar over his left eye

Personality:

violent when provoked

cold

extremely controlling

possessive

manipulative

deceptive

charming, charismatic

arrogant

narcissistic

jealous

Likes: Julius

Dislikes: everyone else

Family Members:

father (deceased)

´mother (deceased)

older sister (deceased)

Relationship Status:

single

Friendships/Allies:

The Hellcrew

The Legacy

Enemies: Killian Lynch

Catchphrase(s):

"the mind is a very dangerous place to hang out in"

rp blog: @lucienthepsychiatrist

backstory: coming soon

#Lucien Delaney #julius the dressmaker #killian lynch #julius doherty #the dressmaker from hell #creepypasta #hellcrew #devlin doherty #cian lynch #creepy art #the hellcrew

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graciliss · 2 years

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I think Casey should've been allowed to say 'bruh' bc she deserves it after the astronomical level of bs that is dealing with Julius in the midst of torture

characters belong to @sanityisforlosers

also read The Dressmaker from Hell

#art #my art #drawing #artists on tumblr #graciliss #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #not my oc #julius the dressmaker #julius doherty #the dressmaker from hell

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ecoamerica · 24 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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cuffmeinblack · 5 months

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Silk and Lace

Ominis Gaunt x Sebastian Sallow

3.9k words

Summary: Sebastian's teasing plants an idea in Ominis' head for a night of indulgent roleplay; and he isn't one to do things by halves.

ao3 link

A/n: It's maid Sebastian round two, this time with our lovely Ominis, and he's wearing the dress that altered my brain chemistry. Another smut fic inspired by Krabat. I'm sure it won't be the last.

Ominis ran his fingers over the delicate silk that clung to every crevice of his lithe frame. It had been made for him, quite literally. Finding a dressmaker with the required discretion for such a commission has been challenging. He daren’t use his family connections, begrudgingly though he might have for other favours; those particular craftsmen were bound to his father and not to him. No, this ensemble had required a talented hand from a less reputable source. A man who had clad the elite in sumptuous garments not usually discussed in polite society; one who understood and shared Ominis' particular proclivities.

Sebastian would be pleased.

Ominis had been told that the silk was a pleasing colour that brought out the jewel-like quality of his eyes and contrasted with the iridescence of his fair skin. Whatever that meant. He was simply pleased that the slits that parted the fabric sat high enough as to enable freedom of movement. His fingertips skimmed the seam, almost to his waist. Ludicrously high and infinitely alluring, he was sure. The neckline was a little more demure, though he was assured it gave the garment just the right balance of sophistication and down-right seductiveness.

The underwear left little to the imagination with its high legs and skimpy straps, but hugged him comfortably. The dressmaker had even been so kind as to suggest accessories; Ominis had opted for silk gloves held up with buckles that sat cold against his biceps, and a pair of French stilettos. The most uncomfortable pair of torture devices he'd yet encountered, but they did a fantastic job of accentuating his calves that dipped under his wandering fingertips. They also gave him extra height. He felt…powerful.

Every inch of him was shaved and oiled, his hair styled in his perfected coiffure. All he needed now was his beloved, who awaited him in their living room. Rife with anticipation, Ominis stood with surprising grace and poise considering the teetering heights he'd now obtained. Heels clicking on the parquet, he made his way through their shared home. He didn't need his wand; this route was one he'd made hundreds of times before. Whilst he knew what awaited him his veins still thrummed with excitement, his pounding heart growing stronger with every click and clack of his approach.

The idea had been born from a throwaway comment from Sebastian, referring to Ominis as the lady of the house. Merely because Ominis was the only one with any sort of domestic intuition—left to Sebastian, no doubt their affairs would be in disarray. He'd prickled and spat back a scathing retort.

“What does that make you, Sebastian? The staff?”

Sebastian had chuckled and let his voice drop into that altogether too silky baritone; the one he used when trying to coax Ominis into bed.

“If that's what the lady so desires.”

Ominis recalled the moment fondly and the corners of his mouth tugged into a smile. The cheek of him. As his fingers clasped the ridged brass doorknob, he hesitated to let his face fall into one of haughty indifference before twisting his hand. No sooner had Ominis pushed the door open and taken a single step inside than Sebastian had answered his entrance with his usual lack of decorum.

“Fucking hell.”

“Language, Sebastian. That is precisely why you hold the role of servant in this house.”

Ominis approached the source of the outburst; the leather sofa that sat opposite the fireplace. He moved slowly, purposely elongating his limbs with every step, holding his chin high and chest proud. He could only imagine what Sebastian’s expression must look like, but the low groan that filtered through the sound of crackling flames told Ominis all he needed to know. He perched on the cushion, letting the silk fall to one side to expose his legs; there was no use in being demure when it was clear what they both desired. Ominis found an unexpected obstacle when rearranging himself; warm, firm and as smooth as his own skin now lay.

“Feet on the furniture?” Ominis tutted.

“I've been waiting a while. It was worth the wait, though.”

Sebastian's calloused hands gripped Ominis' thigh and he swatted it away with a sharp rap on his knuckles. Ominis was nothing if not fastidious when it came to maintaining their roles during play.

“Let me…ah.”

He ran his hand up Sebastian's leg, expecting but never finding the hem of his outfit. Only when he skimmed the unmistakeable bulge of his manhood did he find the frilly lace.

“Well now, this is wildly inappropriate.”

“I’m not here to muck out the fireplace, Ominis.”

“Au contraire,” he purred mockingly. “I expect this room to be thoroughly dusted before we move to the bedroom.”

“I can't tell if you're serious or not, Ominis.”

“Deadly.”

Ominis allowed himself a chuckle as Sebastian groaned and grumbled off his comfortable perch. The perfect opportunity to sample the delights of his exposed figure presented itself as soon as he stood upright, leaving Ominis free to slip his hand beneath the obscenely short skirt.

“My, my,” Ominis hummed as he was met with yet more bare skin, hot to the touch.

“Easy access,” Sebastian commented.

The cotton wasn't as luxurious as Ominis' skirt, fitting with their respective parts. However, the lace trim and flouncy design made Ominis' imagination run wild, with the removable apron tied in a neat bow of particular interest as he fingered the fabric.

“Is the lady of the house pleased?” Sebastian drawled.

“Immensely. Now, do be an obedient little maid and pick up that feather duster. I shan't be kept waiting much longer.”

The request was bordering on absurdity, but how could Sebastian say no when asked by Ominis in that dress with that demanding tone? It was enough to make his cock twitch underneath his ruffled skirt. Sebastian picked up the feather duster, his mind occupied with other lewd thoughts about how the implement could be used. How long would Ominis tease him for, he wondered? Granted, they had all night, but he'd hoped that the majority would be spent with their bodies entangled and not removing cobwebs from the cornicing.

Ominis followed him in his towering heels, the already slender and elongated frame made even more so. Sebastian had never appreciated his legs quite as much as the moment Ominis perched against the writing desk. He knew exactly what he was doing, leaning back on his silk-enrobed hands, back slightly arched. He even lifted a leg onto the chair revealing yet more of that delicious ivory skin. So high was that slit that Sebastian could see the galaxy of beauty marks that flecked his hip bone.

Sebastian was salivating.

“Feet on the furniture?” he said, echoing Ominis' earlier complaint.

“Awfully rude of you to comment on such things. Especially when you've yet to finish your cleaning.”

Sebastian hummed in feigned annoyance and returned to dusting, always keeping his eyes on Ominis. He almost cleared the mantle of ornaments he was so distracted, prompting a knowing chuckle from the blond. Sebastian was sure his legs had spread further since he sat on the edge of the mahogany. The glint of a buckle caught Sebastian’s eye and drew his gaze. Sebastian might have forgone undergarments altogether, but Ominis had opted for something more tangible and somehow much more alluring. He caught a peek of black lace underneath that shimmering green dress and felt his manhood swell.

The tedium of dusting whilst Ominis sat so tantalisingly within reach was sheer torture, and entirely the point. By the time Sebastian could get his hands on Ominis, no doubt he would be begging for his touch. In the meantime, Ominis provided a constant stream of criticism meant only to rile him up, whilst following him around the room.

“I want that bookcase spotless, Sebastian,” Ominis said whilst slipping his hand so far up the inseam of his legs he grazed his balls.

Sebastian groaned and almost fell off his precarious perch, the small wooden stool wobbling as his legs almost gave way. He grumbled indignantly and stepped off of the step, using the sturdy bookcase to steady himself. His head was already dizzy and Ominis had barely touched him.

“It's done. I've dusted the whole damned room.”

Ominis merely hummed in assent and continued fondling his tight balls, his cock now fully erect and throbbing for attention.

“Have you done the light fixture?”

“Oh come on, Ominis…”

“Your pathetic whinging won't get you anywhere.”

With that scathing remark, Ominis traced the curve of Sebastian's leg to slip a finger between his cheeks. Ominis' digit probed and circled his hole and Sebastian let him, bending forward slightly to allow him access like a bitch in heat, moaning all the while.

“Please, Ominis,” he gasped as a knuckle grazed his right ring.

“Now he says please. You could have had my cock inside you half an hour ago if you'd just asked nicely, Sebastian.”

“You’re a git…ah!”

Ominis' finger delved further inside Sebastian, gently stroking in rhythm to the gentle caress of his thigh. Sebastian slumped against the bookcase, dislodging Ominis’ careful arrangement of the myriad texts. Somewhere behind him, amongst his heavy breathing and low moans he heard the blond tutting as a hardback fell to the floor.

“Can’t get the staff these days,” Ominis chuckled, pressing himself into Sebastian’s back.

Now he could feel what Ominis wouldn’t divulge with words; that he was just as aroused as Sebastian himself. Beneath the thin layers of silk and lace, his stiffness strained against the pretty lingerie and pressed hard into Sebastian’s behind.

“I’ll enjoy peeling this off of you.”

Ominis’ sultry voice slithered down Sebastian’s ear to ignite a burning desire in his chest, his stomach, his groin. His entire body seemed to tingle and ache whilst Ominis continued his probing, teasing increasingly broken whines from his mouth. The time for shame had passed, and Sebastian let his desperation spill forth. Only vaguely aware of what Ominis’ other hand was doing, he felt a change in pressure around his waist, sometime after Ominis had inserted a second finger.

The sounds that clawed their way out of his throat were borderline obscene, and he felt for their neighbours. A jumbled series of expletives amongst his pathetic keening were all he could manage as Ominis began stretching him and his lips finally met his neck. Those soft, perfect lips that Sebastian dreamed about so often. Ominis’ mouth might have been Sebastian’s favourite part of him; capable of such witticisms, yet such obscenities. Not only was he adept with language, but he certainly knew how to put that silver tongue to use in other ways.

“Let’s move this to the bedroom, shall we?” Ominis suggested, a whisper against his ear.

Oh thank Merlin.

Sebastian was about ready to start grovelling. He groaned as Ominis removed his fingers and left his neck with a gentle nip at the skin. The click of heels indicated Ominis’ departure, and he knew he was meant to follow obediently. That he did, mesmerised by his lover’s movements; every inch of him dripping in elegance. So transfixed he was on the shapeliness of his tight little waist, Sebastian almost missed the fact that he had his apron balled up in his fist. His blood raged to think of what plans he had for the ridiculous cotton accessory—Ominis always had a motive, in every little thing he did. The removal had been carefully considered.

Case in point, their bedroom had been prepared beforehand. Whilst Sebastian had been busying himself lounging on the sofa, Ominis had set the scene for their night of passion. Far from the harsh light of the living room, that which greeted Sebastian as he stepped into the bedroom was soothing. The amber glow of the candles warmed Ominis’ skin, the silk that hugged his musculature to perfection now shimmered in the gently flickering light. Dare he say, the man standing before him looked ethereal in his beauty.

“Are you staring, Sebastian?”

The silence had obviously been a giveaway, and Sebastian chuckled quietly before pouncing. Fuck the roles and their little game; Sebastian had waited hours. He pressed his lips against Ominis’ before the blond could object, hands grasping greedily at those exposed hips and skimpy lingerie. Oh, how he’d like to rip that particular garment off with his teeth. Ominis appeared to allow the advance, a breathy sigh slithering into Sebastian’s open mouth. Soon their tongues entangled, a sweet relief to be caressed by those soft, moistened lips. He slid his hands over every inch of Ominis’ delectable body in reach, and once he’d explored it all, he dropped to his knees as if in worship.

“Tsk, so eager,” Ominis teased.

His dishevelled hair and flushed skin almost broke the illusion of his cool façade, until Ominis regained his composure in a flash.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t enjoying yourself,” Sebastian replied.

Ominis’ retort never came, instead he perched on the edge of their quilted bed and beckoned Sebastian over. Before Sebastian could clamber over him and claim his prize, his chest was impaled by a sharp patent leather heel. The shoe dug into his flesh, almost bruising his ribcage in the process. Lucky, then, that he was so distracted with the seductive look on Ominis’ face, and the view this particular obstacle afforded him. With his leg raised, Sebastian saw everything underneath that elegant dress of his. Milky white skin travelled from foot to thigh, seemingly forever, until it reached the crease of his hip. There, Sebastian just about lost his mind.

The flash of lace had been a prelude to this…this work of art. The lingerie disappeared between his cheeks; truth be told, there was barely anything of it. The lace was decadent, finished in gold and he was sure (unless he was actually quite mad) that it depicted entwined snakes. How fitting, Sebastian mused. Of course, his focus wasn’t really on the details of the underwear, more how Ominis’ impressive cock looked squeezed into it. Perhaps he’d been contained at one point, but now fully erect, his length spilled from the top to reveal his plump, pink head.

“Gods, you look magnificent,” Sebastian sighed.

Ominis dug his heel in further, drawing another pained groan from Sebastian’s mouth, and he once again dropped to the floor in submission.

“Tell me again,” Ominis prompted.

“You…look…magnificent…”

Sebastian punctuated each word with a kiss to Ominis’ silky smooth leg, tracing the contour of his shin to his knee and inner thigh. There he hesitated only slightly, asking silent permission. Ominis gave it in the form of parting his legs and Sebastian felt his cock harden even more, if that were even possible. He trailed his lips to that crevice he enjoyed; to the sensitive skin just next to Ominis’ hard length, he bestowed a gentle kiss. Slowly he pushed the jade silk away to really get a view of him in all his glory, saliva pooling in his mouth as he pressed his lips firmly to the lace-clad shaft.

“Let me suck your cock, Ominis. Please.”

Ominis smirked ever so slightly at the plea then laced his fingers through Sebastian’s fluffy brunet mane.

“How could I resist such an enticing offer?”

A little pressure from the base of his skull guided Sebastian back to Ominis’ lap as the blond leaned back on the bed, head flung back in anticipation. Sebastian merely groaned and rolled his hips against thin air before getting to work. He licked a firm stripe up the length of that delicious cock, the lace rough against his tongue. With a dexterity that surprised him given his lustful intoxication, he clamped his teeth around the delicate band holding the whole ensemble up and tugged. It didn’t take much for the lingerie to fall away with the aid of Ominis’ rising hips. His lover chuckled, turning swiftly into a soft moan the second Sebastian enveloped his cock in his mouth’s warmth.

Pulse racing and head swimming, he revelled in the taste of him, merely licking and kissing the swollen tip for a long while. When he sensed Ominis’ impatience, he moved on, taking him deeper, deeper, deeper. Sebastian stroked himself as his tongue swirled around Ominis’ cock with each bob of his head, salacious moans filling the room amongst heavy breaths. The cacophony was exhilarating, but not loud enough to completely mask the rhythmic rustle of fabric or wet squelching of his slickened palm.

“I can hear you, Sebastian. If you want to come all that badly I’ll be the one to do it.”

Sebastian hummed a reply that no, he wasn’t ready quite yet. Wrapping his hand now glistening with his own arousal around Ominis’ shaft he began to suck him off in earnest. He moved his hand in time to his mouth, hollowing his cheeks to draw increasingly ragged moans from Ominis’ lips as the pressure built. Deeper he took him, until he felt the tight ring of muscle in his throat protest. Ominis appeared nonplussed by Sebastian's struggle, his thin fingers forcing his head to steady with a searing pain to his scalp.

“S-Sebastian…”

His composure finally broken, Ominis cried Sebastian's name as if the heavens themselves could hear him. When he finally relinquished his grip, Sebastian spluttered and gasped for breath, eyes glazed with unshed tears. If he hadn't been before, he was certainly desperate to be ravaged now.

“On the bed,” his demand came whilst Sebastian was still coughing.

Ominis' dexterous fingers made short work of Sebastian's ensemble whilst he busied himself with the delicate buttons around the blond’s neckline. When the dress finally fell away and they knelt facing each other naked, Sebastian thought that perhaps there was a God. No matter how many times he laid eyes on Ominis' form, he never failed to be rendered speechless. Even so, Ominis had a well thought out plan for that apron he'd stolen. Sebastian watched as he folded the fabric around itself, holding out the cotton ties with a deadpan expression.

“Be a good boy and put this in your mouth.”

“You want to gag me? After all your moaning and begging whilst I sucked you off?” Sebastian scoffed.

Ominis’ face pinched into a frown.

“Certainly. You make a poor servant so far, Sebastian. Do make it up to me, won't you?”

Sebastian grinned like a young lad in a sweet shop but kept up the pretense of indignation, huffing for Ominis’ benefit. He took the apron and bit down on the cotton, the uncomfortable sensation of cloth against his teeth not enough to rid him of the mounting excitement that went straight to his neglected cock. He tied it as Ominis' hands covered his own, pulling the ties just that little bit tighter until he was satisfied. Saliva pooled on the fabric. Sebastian waited.

“On your knees for me tonight, my love.”

Sebastian didn't need telling twice; he scrambled on the bed to position himself, gently squeezing his cock as he waited for Ominis. The blond's fingers found his half-prepped hole easily enough, this time sliding in his digits with extra lubrication that warmed and tingled pleasantly.

“Come on, hurry up,” Sebastian had tried to say, only producing a glob of spit and garbled protest.

Ominis laughed and took his sweet time, curling his fingers to make Sebastian whine against his gag. When finally Ominis was satisfied, Sebastian breathed a sigh of anticipatory relief and pressed his face into the bed sheets. Ominis finally lined his cock up with his entrance and pushed firmly and decisively, and Sebastian swore that the moment was the best of his life. As if he'd been waiting years to be filled so satisfyingly, every nerve ending seemed set ablaze. He gripped the sheets until his knuckles whitened as he felt the press of Ominis' balls against his cheeks. A hard smack to his behind nearly sent him over the edge of his sanity.

“More, please…fuck, you feel so good,” Sebastian once again tried to say.

There was little point to his begging but he did it anyway; he had a suspicion Ominis liked it so. He groaned louder still once Ominis started to roll his hips, his own gasping sighs adding to Sebastian's pleasure. He did so love to hear Ominis in the throes of passion; his usually composed demeanour crumbling with every touch, every thrust. The sultry voice behind him filled the room as Sebastian reeled with pleasure, only vaguely aware of the words spoken

“I have to say…I miss you moaning my name…but at least I don't have to…endure the utter filth that pours out of your mouth.”

Sebastian’s muffled reply was muted by a hard thrust and increase in tempo that made fresh tears well in his eyes. He was approaching the point of being unable to speak, unable to move, merely able to whine whilst Ominis pounded him into the bed. That sweet spot inside him was endlessly caressed with every stroke until he was only a mess of limbs, a toy for Ominis' pleasure. Sebastian was close to his climax, the constant stimulation altogether too much to bear any longer; he needed an outlet for the agonisingly sweet tension pooled inside him.

“Close already?” Ominis breathed against his neck.

Wandering hands travelled over Sebastian's burning skin, arriving at his weeping cock. Ominis held him, unmoving, only the pummelling from behind providing any sort of friction into that palm. Sebastian whined again, head fuzzy and desperation growing. The cotton in his mouth was saturated with drool and tears alike by this point. An utter mess of Ominis' making.

“Please…,” he begged once again, the tone more than indicative of what he desired.

“Such a little slut, Sebastian…”

That had done it. Sebastian cried out as he reached his peak and orgasm exploded. Ripping through his body like wildfire, his limbs convulsed under the sheer pleasure, only vaguely aware that Ominis was still fucking him senseless through it all. He'd collapsed onto the bed with his sensitive cock trapped beneath him, now leaking all over their very expensive quilt. Merlin knows how many bodily fluids this bed has already seen.

Sebastian finally fell limp after a while, breathless and whimpering as Ominis stayed buried deep inside him. The blond was still rock hard, thin fingers grabbing handfuls of freckled flesh and soft lips sending shivers down Sebastian's spine. Ominis might have been muttering praises in his ear, or maybe he was merely imagining it in the post-orgasm haze. He certainly felt his lover's weight on top of him, and the warm embrace that made him smile against his fabric binding.

Once Sebastian's breath had steadied, he felt Ominis shift and prompt him to turn. The release of pressure from his hole made him groan, Ominis’ heavy cock falling against his hip as he twisted on the bed. Finally, Sebastian could see the product of their lovemaking. He adored Ominis' flushed skin and the strands of hair falling over his opalescent eyes. He was simply the most beautiful thing he had ever and would ever lay eyes upon.

Ominis smiled softly with a hint of seduction. Oh, he was far from done. When the blond's hands travelled to his face to finger the apron's tie, Sebastian grabbed Ominis' wrist to stop him. He wasn't finished quite yet, either.

#ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #sebinis #ominis gaunt x sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x ominis gaunt

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shelby-fangirl00 · 8 months

Text

Lie To Me-part two-(Irene (OC) x John Shelby x Tommy Shelby)

Summary: Irene has been seeing John Shelby for a year now on and off. In John's absence, Irene begins to feel a pull towards Tommy.

Warnings: (MINORS DNI, 18+) smuuuut, swearing, drinking, MMF (slightly))

The next few days, all I could think about was my night spent with Tommy. It was refreshing to not be constantly thinking about what John was up to. I was getting ready to close up shop at work with one of the tailors I worked alongside with. It wasn’t hard to find work near Small Heath a year ago, with my background in dressmaking. This small fitting shop on the outskirts of Small Heath was owned by an older man, Rory. He was the closest tailer to town. I offered him my services a year ago and we have been working together to help both men and women now. I love the work I do, even though it was a bit of a walk to get there every day.

I was sitting in the back work station alone, putting some finishing touches on an evening gown I had been working on for months now. It was a long and fitted forest green with golden lining. I held the dress up, marveling at the work I had done. Pulling my bottom lip in, I worried it wasn’t fancy enough for the socialite woman I was making it for. I decided to find Rory to ask him.

‘Roryyyyyy….’ I sang casually as I made my way to the front of the building, dress in hands. I waltzed into the main area, to find a much younger and dashing man instead. I gasped a bit in surprise, not expecting to see Tommy standing alone, hands placed casually in the pockets of his perfectly tailored gray suit. Rory must’ve left for the day it was getting dark soon.

‘Evening Thomas...’ I managed to squeak out as he smiled lightly a me.

‘What’s that you have?’ he asked gesturing to the long gown. I looked down and back at him. ‘Oh…a dress I’ve been working on forever. Supposed to be picked up in the morning…’ My voice trailed off as my eyes fell back down on the dress. I studied it a few seconds longer before looking back at him.

‘Want a second opinion?’ He asked, seemingly sensing that I was unsure of my work. I smiled walking closer to him. I laid the dress down on a longer table for him to examine. I watched as his eyes scrunched up and studied the dress. He let his fingers brush over the shimmery green fabric, looking back up at me with those sparkling eyes.

‘I hope whoever is wearing it paid you well enough. It’s very beautiful, Irene. Then again, I’m no dressmaker so my opinion might not mean much to you.’

My face bloomed with color at his approval and a wide smile crept up my face.

‘No, no it means a lot coming from you! Thank god, I’ve been in my head about it all,’ I giggled, grabbing the dress and placing it behind the front counter.

‘What’re you doing here anyways? I know you don’t come here for your fancy suites.’ I questioned, grabbing my jacket from behind the front door.

‘No, I don’t. I was coming to see you, actually.’ My heart was fluttering at this point. His eyes never wavered from mine as he spoke. I stood there at a loss for words.

‘Arthur is throwing Polly a birthday party as the Garrison tonight. I wanted to extend the invitation. Polly has always liked having you around.’ I nearly fainted. John would most definitely be there too. My mouth went dry but I tried to conceal my nerves.

‘I’d love to, thank you for thinking of me, Tommy.’

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

Walking up the cobbled sidewalks towards the Garrison, I clutched the small giftbox in my sweaty palms. It didn’t take long for me to hear the vibrato of instruments playing from inside. Muffled sounds of people yelling and laughing were nearly pouring out of the wide double doors. I didn’t know what the hell I was supposed to be wearing, so I just wore a simple black dress that hugged my frame nicely and hung off my shoulders, exposing my neck and chest. A simple pearl necklace hung from my neck, accentuating my cleavage nicely. I chose to leave my hair down in its natural wavy state. My lips were covered in a light shade of red that matched my blushed cheeks.

‘Irene!’ A familiar feminine but strong voice yelled immediately after I entered the bright and lively bar.

I smiled wide as I drew her into a hug. “Happy Birthday! God, you look gorgeous in that dress!’

Her beautifully crooked smile made my heart swell. Her presence was always breathtaking. Her fire-red dress glimmered off of the twinkling chandeliers in the room.

‘Thank you, love! You look stunning, as always. I was so happy to hear from Tommy that you were coming!’

I smiled, handing her the small box I had been carrying. A red bow rested on top.

‘Oh, dear that was not necessary!’ Her laugh was cut off by a gasp when she opened the box. Resting inside was a sparkling hair comb that was studded in white rhinestones. I had stayed a little later at the shop after Tommy had invited me tonight. I decided to quickly make something small and elegant for Polly, something I knew she’d appreciate.

‘Did you make this?!’ I giggled and shook my head yes.

‘I’ll definitely have to keep this hidden from Ada, its beautiful! I hope it didn’t take up too much time?’ She asked me, concerned.

‘It was no trouble at all, Polly! Happy birthday again! I need to grab a drink, I’ll see you soon, yeh?’

‘You surely will, dear!’ She sang as she drunkenly but confidently pushed through the tall crowd of eyeing men.

I made my way past the lumps of people, finally making it to the end of the bar. I took my glass in hand and rounded back through the bar just to be shoved face first into John’s chest. His eyes were surprisingly bright with interest, not glazed over from drinking.

Instinctively, I smiled up at his dazzling features. His hair was slicked back, unmoving and a toothpick hung from the end of his splitting smile. There were so many people around that we were practically squished together. I was suddenly very aware of the height difference between us. I was nearly 5’2’’. He was looking down at me in a hungry way.

‘You look very handsome tonight, Mr. Shelby.’ I giggled as his greedy hands swiveled around my wide hips, squeezing all of me between his fingers in a way that might have been inappropriate in this crowded bar. I couldn’t care less. We rarely saw each other outside of my dark flat. I was practically melting in his strong arms, I loved that he was being affectionate in front of his friends and colleagues. It made me feel special, stupidly.

‘And you look good enough to taste, love.’ He whispered in my ear before planting a soft and quick kiss to the exposed skin on my neck. I was so responsive to him, it was embarrassing. I couldn’t help how my back arched towards him slightly; he was intoxicating to be around.

I attempted to laugh in order to play off how tightly wound up I was.

‘You’ll have to work for that from now on.’ I shot him a wicked grin before turning on my heels back to the bar. John was on my heels, though, which is what I wanted. Somehow, through the crowd of people, he jumped in front of me, stopping me in my path.

‘Listen, I tried to stop by. But I got stuck at the bloody fights with Arthur. He was so fucking drunk. I couldn’t leave him there alone. I would’ve stopped by if I could’ve.’ He said all this while holding his hands gently in mine. His eyes were waiting for an answer, to forgive him, like I always do so easily.

‘You could’ve told me that days ago.’ I sighed out.

‘Yes, I should’ve, but I’m an arse and didn’t. Forgive me?’ He pleaded, pouting his bottom lip out.

I took a sip of my drink before placing it back onto the bar, getting a good look at him now. I didn’t want to think about my complicated feelings for John or how he blew me off. The only thing I could think about was how badly I needed him to touch me. “Let’s have this conversation another time, yeh? I want to have fun tonight.’ You said before shoving a drink at him.

He studied me for a few seconds, before letting go of the protest in his mind. ‘Fine by me, love.’ He laughed before downing his drink.

An hour had passed and John couldn’t keep his hands off of me, which I didn’t mind. We sat at the bar and the conversation and jokes came naturally, like they always do. On the other side of the bar though, I could feel Tommy’s eyes watching me. Every time I looked up at him from the opposite end of the bar, his eyes were already on me. Shyly, I always looked away. But I was now several shots in. I didn’t want to admit that I liked his eyes on me. God what is wrong with me? I finally get John’s attention and now I can’t stop thinking about him and his brother?

John was shouting at the bartender about more shots and joking around with the other men sitting near us. I took the moment to lift my eyes up to meet Tommy’s, and I almost floated over to him before stopping myself. His intense stare never broke. He chuckled from across the bar as I instinctively nibbled my bottom lip at my wandering thoughts. God, what I would let that man do to me.

Breaking me out of my thoughts, I felt John’s warm hand slide up my thigh, eating me up with his eyes. My skin broke out in goosebumps and my breath hitched. I could still feel him watching us from across the room.

John’s eyebrows creased in question, until he found where my line of vision kept wandering off to. He shot a devilish look back at me.

‘Tommy told me about his little visit with you the other night.’ Shit. My heart fucking sank.

I sat there in silence, not knowing what to say in order to keep John from completely freaking out and causing a scene. I wondered why he hadn’t already if he had known Tommy came over,

To my surprise, he started to giggle, sensing the rigidness in my body. To my surprise, he lifted my chin up and planted a sweet but passionate kiss to my lips, knowing that his brother was looking. I couldn’t help the satisfied whimper coming from the back of my throat that only John could’ve heard. I was melting in his hands. He pulled back and smiled. ‘Stop worrying, Irene. You’re a free woman, you can do as you please…whether that’s me or my brother…or both of us.’

My hand clamped down on his thigh, squeezing it in comfort. ‘John…nothing happened with me and Tommy.’ He smiled down at me cheekily, already sensing the hesitation in my voice. He already knew exactly how I felt about Tommy.

‘That doesn’t mean you didn’t want something to happen. Doesn’t even mean it won’t happen eventually’ he leaned in to whisper, ‘Is that what you want, love? You want the both of us? It’s written all over you. You’re such a greedy girl.’ He giggled in a haunting way as his fingers brushed the exposed skin on my arm. The room seemed to spin and I couldn’t believe the words coming out of John’s mouth. I never would’ve expected John, the most possessive man alive right next to his brothers, would be ok with sharing.

‘What’re you two love birds whispering about?’ Tommy’s low voice boomed from behind us. My eyes shot up to meet his beautiful blue eyes.

‘Tommy! Perfect timing, brother. We were just talking about you.’ Tommy’s eyebrows curved in curiousity.

‘Yeh? What about me?’ He sat on the stool next to me, placing me right between the two of them.

‘I think Irene’s got a little crush on you!’ He yell-whispered to Tommy sarcastically across from me. I shoved his arm harshly to hide the glow on my cheeks.

‘Jesus John!’ I scolded, making the both of them chuckle in an eerily calm and collected way. Had they already talked about this together?

‘Is that true, Irene?’ Tommy laughed.

I shoved my face into my hands in embarrassment. “I’m not drunk enough for this.’ I sighed.

A strong hand found its way to the small of my back, making me straighten out. Only, the hand that was rubbing small circles into my back was Tommy’s, not Johns.

My eyes shot between the both of them in shock.

‘How about John and I walk you back home, hm? Is that ok with ya?’ Both of their eyes were planted on me, not bothering to notice the entire mob of people around us. My hands grew clammy and my red cheeks bled down my chest.

‘I’d like that.’

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

The walk back to my place was short. Full of constant laughter and chatter. John annoyed Tommy the whole way there and I couldn’t help but admire the way they bickered back and forth. I never got to see the two of them together like this, so playful. Tommy always had a layer of seriousness, but some of those walls seemed to crash down in John’s company. It was hard to be in a bad mood with him around.

As we approached the front door of my flat, I turned to face them, they both stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting for me to speak. I had a feeling on how this night was going to play out and I couldn’t miss the opportunity. I didn’t want the night to end. I’d love to live in this tipsy and light state forever.

‘You’re coming inside, aren’t you? Or is it past your bedtimes?’ I giggled as I fiddled with the keys and doorknob.

John threw his head back and clutched the front of his coat dramatically. ‘Christ, I thought you’d never ask!’ He laughed before pushing past Tommy and through the front door.

All three of us sat around my kitchen table playing cards and drinking for a while. The tension would’ve been air tight if it wasn’t for John breaking the ice by making jokes all night. I couldn’t ignore all of the small touches both Tommy and John were giving me. Tommy’s hand would brush across my back occasionally, but nothing more. John was less subtle, sneaking kisses and sitting inches away from me.

‘I missed you this week, Irene.’ He sighed, leaning forward and pulling my chair forcefully in front of his. As soon as we were practically nose-to-nose, he enveloped me in a searing kiss. His lips moved slowly but no less passionate. His hands slid down my back slowly, stopping at my ass and squeezing lightly. I playfully pushed him off, laughing. Tommy was still seated beside me and John, watching.

‘John, don’t manhandle me in front of your brother, you’ll make him uncomfortable.’ I half-joked.

John threw his head back in laughter. ‘Tommy doesn’t get uncomfortable. I’m sure that’s the last thing he’s feeling right now.’

I looked back to Tommy who seemed even more angelic up-close. He had shed his jacket and was only in a white button down, his gun holster strapped around his shoulders and chest, showing how large this man actually was. I looked at him in question, never knowing what he was thinking.

‘Come here.’ He said in such a deadly tone that I could never disobey. I looked back at John for a reaction or some sort of protest, but there was none. In fact, he was silent. His eyes seemed to almost turn black as he watched me in anticipation.

I slowly stood up, walking a few steps to stand right above him. His dangerous star made me shiver. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to be doing, just standing here in front of him. Sensing my nervousness, Tommy was level to my stomach. His eyes never left mine when he reached up to caress the skin under my dress. As his hand squeezed softly around me, he took note of the way my body relaxed.

Still sitting lazily in the chair from under me, he used his foot to kick my leg open. All in one motion, he grabbed my hips tightly, and led me to cradle his lap. I yelped slightly, not expecting this all to move so quickly, but I wasn’t upset about it. I was full of excitement which weighed out my nervousness.

I could hear John moving back and forth in his seat, but all I could focus on right now was how close my face was to Tommy’s. All of my senses were filled with him. I rested my hands on his shoulders as his hands slid up to cup my face before reaching up to kiss me. My body pressed into his chest, instantly feeling addicted to the taste of him and the feeling of his mouth on mine. Sparks shot through my body at every touch and every movement he made. His lips were soft and plump, fighting for dominance. Quickly, his tongue snuck its way into my mouth, teasing me slightly. A loud moan crept up my throat and I could feel Tommy smirk into the kiss, satisfied with the effect he had on me. His hands slid up my back to unzip the back of my dress.

All too quickly, Tommy pulled away, leaving us both breathless. His eyes were wild and full of desire. I smiled down at him before he spoke. ‘How about we make John watch us play as a punishment for neglecting this needy body.’

I heard John chuckle eerily from behind us. I turned my head around and raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

‘No fair! I don’t get to play?’ He whined childishly.

‘I told you that you’d have to work a little harder from now on.’ I teased at him.

He slouched back in his chair, spreading his legs a bit farther apart, giving me a challenging look. Finally, he nodded to me in a sort of agreement.

‘Irene.’ My name coming off Tommy’s lips like this almost put me in a trance. I would do anything he wanted when he said my name like that.

I stood up, leading Tommy to my bed which was only a few steps from where John was in my tiny flat. As I plopped down, John scooted his chair in the direction of us.

‘Are you sure you want this?’ He sat beside me on the bed, squeezing my hand lightly.

I shook my head a bit too eagerly. ‘I trust you.’ His lips crashed back into mine. I was still aware of John’s eyes watching us and the small sounds he was making from his chair.

Tommy’s hands brushed down my skin as he pushed the rest of my unzipped dress down. Tommy eyed every inch of exposed skin.

He pushed his holsters off his shoulders swiftly, tossing them the floor. My hands greedily unbuttoned his shirt to expose his tight chest that was sprinkled in small scars and a couple tattoos I didn’t know about.

My hands fell into his soft hair as he inched down my body, not hesitating when pushing past the fabric covering my pussy. Completely naked now, he pushed my thighs apart, letting both himself and John get a view of my pussy. I felt so vulnerable and so exposed to both of them, but the nerves quickly left as Tommy’s head lowered between my legs, letting his fingers graze down my slit. He dipped his finger into my tight hole, collecting the slick wetness into his finger. He watched my face methodically as he sucked the finger into his mouth.

‘She tastes so sweet, doesn’t she?’ John said huskily as he began to fidget with his zipper, struggling to not stroke himself off.

Tommy’s eyes were focused on me when he spoke next. “Sweeter than I ever imagined.’

Tommy leaned over my body, pushing his lips onto mine, letting me taste myself on his tongue. I inhaled sharply at the contact. My hands shot to his pants, quickly fumbling with the zipper. I wrapped my hand around his throbbing cock, pulling it free. He grunted loudly, giving me a boost of confidence.

‘Are you ready for me?’ He whispered in my ear, setting me on fire again. I needed him inside of me now.

‘Please, I need to feel you, Thomas.’ His face softened instantly for a few quick seconds at the use of his real name. He lined himself up with my entrance, staring into my eyes with such passion that I’d never seen before. Pushing his way inside me slowly, he hissed, but his gaze never wavered. He pushed deeper and deeper until bottoming out with a small whimper that made me tighten around him. I felt so full, but in the best way possible. His lips hovered over mine as his forehead fell onto mine. He adjusted to the tightness of me before moving again.

‘Christ, you feel incredible.’ He said, finally pulling all the way out and pounding back inside of me over and over again, make me gasp for air. Lost in the sensations, I wrapped my legs around his waist, clawing lightly at his muscular back. Finding my center, I peeked over at John, who was now standing to get a better look at me. He was stroking his cock in time with Tommy’s thrust, chest heaving up and down frantically.

Reality suddenly set in as I watched John, thinking he might hate this. Would he be upset with me for this later? Am I betraying him like this?

Tommy must’ve noticed my body’s rigidness and the nervous look on my face. He pushed my face back under him, holding my head in place with both his strong hands as he fucked me so gently now. Each gentle thrust helped me fall farther into the moment with him. I relaxed around him finally, allowing him to move a bit faster.

‘You’re doing such a good job, love. Focus on me, yeh? Make him pay for not worshipping this beautiful pussy.’ God, I couldn’t deny how sexy this was.

His thrust were slow and deep now, drawing every moan out of me for Tommy to devour. My hips started to meet his in a steady rhythm, fucking myself up into him. My hands were everywhere, falling down his chest and caressing back up to his pretty face panting over me. His breath held a strong scent of whiskey, sending my head spiraling.

‘Does my cock feel better than his? I know it does. Tell me how good I feel inside you.’ He said in a slightly submissive and approval seeking way, whispering so that I was the only one to hear him. I couldn’t deny that this felt so much different than with John. This was all so unfamiliar and exciting. Tommy had a way about himself that I couldn’t explain.

‘God, you feel amazing in me Tommy. I feel so full of you.’ I panted into him, only for his ears to hear. A small chuckle escaped him and he pressed his lips onto my neck again. I turned to face John who was about to come undone.

Before I could think, Tommy pulled me up to his chest before flipping me over, so that I was on-top of him. He looked stunning laying underneath me like this. His eyelids were heavy and his chest was heaving up and down. It started to feel like it was just Tommy and I here alone in my room.

I pressed my hands firmly into his chest as I fucked myself down on his dick. I threw my head back and focused on my movements. I was bouncing up and down so harshly, each time I moved down, a loud grunt left Tommy, edging me on. His hands grabbed firmly onto my hips and he fucked up into me so much more harshly. I gasped, mouth hanging open and unable to move. Each time his cock shot up into me, I came closer and closer to the edge of my building orgasm.

‘You’re close?’ He panted out, redirecting my attention on his angelic features. I shook my head yes, unable to form words right now. His hand moved down in-between us, rubbing fast and tight circles into my clit. I clamped my eyes shut, trying to contain the building pressure. I was a total goner now.

I felt his soft hands gently brush across my face, making my lids flutter open.

‘I am too. Come for me, love. Can you do that?’ He said, still fucking my core relentlessly.

‘Yes, Tommy…I’m gonna come…’ I moaned out loudly before the flood gates broke open. My mouth hung in a silent cry and my hands clawed down his chest. I came so hard around him black spots clouded my vision. My entire body slowly lit on fire, every inch of my body shaking with pleasure. I came harder than I ever have in that moment. Tommy lifted my ass up with his hands and fucked me through the extreme pleasure. His thrusts became sloppy as his orgasm followed close behind mine. With a few final thrusts, I watched his face contort and then finally relax completely as his hot cum filled me up completely, spilling out the sides of me. I might become obsessed with this expression. After what felt like minutes of whimper and moans of bure bliss, I laid my head on his chest, still buried onto his cock. I felt him twitch inside of me as I tried to catch my breath. His hands rubbed up and down my back lightly, reminding me that we had company here still. It was so silent, the only sounds that filled the room were the panting coming from me and Tommy. He stared up at me in awe, giving me the softest smile that made me melt. I never wanted him to leave my bed.

Finally, I moved off of him, falling to his side and turning to look at John who was fully clothed again, looking a bit pissed off. I hadn’t even known he had came and recomposed himself all while we were fucking. Did I not hear him at all?

‘If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve guessed you two were in love. The fuck was all that about?’

Taglist: @lyarr24

@forgottenpeakywriter

@casa-boiardi

@tigernach575

@crabat-the-queen

@adaydreamaway08

@trixie23

@sunset24t

@star017

@oizyss88,

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#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby smut

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stelartuqueque · 11 days

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I JUST REMEMBERED THAT I DIDN'T SHOW MY HAZBIN HOTEL OC'S REDESIGN HERE- *Crying tuqueque*

((I want to clarify that the sin that is next to it is for the lore of how each oc ended up in hell, not the ring in which they are located-))

The first, as always, momy Eleonor

Name in life: Eleonor "Adams" Orstrang Name in hell: Eleonor Orstrang (AKA: Mother Demon)

Age of death: 28 years Year: 1868 Profession/Job: Pharmacist

The second, ironically, my greatest pride in terms of design, Adrian.

Name in life: Adrian Beaumont Name in hell: Adrian Orstrang

Age of death: 19 years Year: 1940 Profession/Job: Unisex dressmaker (In life and in hell)

The third, Eleonor's bestie from the moment she was alive, Amelia.

Name in life: Amelia Bechett Name in hell: Amelia

Age of death: 32 years Year: 1867 Profession/Job: Acompany Lady / Secretary (In hell)

The fourth, which was originally a selfinsert, Lili (Or "Lil", usually-)

Living name: Lauren Newmaker Name in hell: Lili ("Lil")

Age of death: 23 years Year: 2018 Profession/Job: Cashier/Waitress

The fifth, the main person in charge of distribution and public treatment in Eleonor's business, Braham.

Name in life: Abraham Name in hell: Braham Orstrang

Age of death: 26 years Year: 1997 Profession/Job: Public relations manager (In hell)

The sixth, a little fennec with serious anger issues, Kyles.

Name in life: Kiledar Burnham Name in hell: Kyles

Age of death: 24 years Year: 2016 Profession/Job: Assistant/Security Guard (In Life and Hell)

Another one- It's the last of the special sins, fly boy, Martin.

I have other sinners left, but that will be later :'D

Name in life: Martin Canewilk Name in hell: Martin Orstrang

Age of death: 18 years Year: 1897 Profession/Job: Asset Accountant-

I still had to re-draw other 3 sinners... and 5 imps... aaaand 2 hellhounds- But, for now, there, there!

Oh, also!

Braham plus 'cause I love this momma's boy-

#hazbin hotel #hellaverse #hazbin hotel fan comic #hazbin art #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin hotel oc #my art #artists on tumblr #art #fanart

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edenesth · 3 months

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The Way to His Heart [14]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.8k

Part 13 | Fic Masterlist | Part 15

"J-Jinjoo? Is that you?"

Your breath caught in your throat as you observed the scars scattered across her body, wounds that hadn't been there the last time you saw her. The severity of her punishment was evident, and judging by the marks, it seemed unlikely they would fade anytime soon, if ever.

The younger girl smirked bitterly, "Are you happy now? All five of us have been beaten nearly to death, left with scars that will likely never fully heal in this lifetime. Mother will serve until the day she dies, and the three of us will pay for a good chunk of our lives!"

As if anticipating your inquiry about the former minister, she shook her head and balled her fists, "Father has endured enough beatings and torture to render him almost paralysed, and guess what? He's been exiled to god knows where. If you want more details, perhaps you should ask your husband about it."

Your heart sank at the mention of Seonghwa, "Wh-what do you mean? Your punishments were determined by His Majesty. Why would my husband be involved—"

She scoffed incredulously, "Did you truly forget who General Park really is? He sat back and enjoyed the show while we suffered, allowing the torture to happen. That absolute monster—he did this to us; he ruined our lives forever. I mean, sure, we weren't great to you either, but look at you now, Lady Park. It's all thanks to us that you're who you are today."

Noting your silence, she continued with a sly edge, "Though I wouldn't celebrate too soon if I were you. Who's to say when he'll show his true colours once he's grown tired of you?"

Before you could respond, Hongjoong appeared at your side, his tone laced with disbelief, "Worry about yourself first, peasant. Oh, the audacity of this young lady. Do you even realise who you're addressing? How dare you try to twist this around and play the victim? You and your family got what you deserved. Count yourself lucky that you're still alive and well, hm?"

The dressmaker turned to signal the factory owner and the elderly man immediately rushed over anxiously, "S-sir, what brings you to this part of the factory? P-please, allow me to escort you out."

Halting the man, Hongjoong gestured towards your stepsister, "This one right here was being disrespectful to Lady Park. Would you mind teaching her a good lesson for me? Otherwise, I may have to reconsider our choice of fabric supplier."

Suddenly realising her mistake, Jinjoo trembled like a leaf under the owner's stern gaze. He bowed repeatedly at you and your friend, "O-of course, sir! Rest assured, I'll ensure she never forgets her manners again. You have my word!"

As Hongjoong guided you out of the store, you remained silent, your thoughts swirling from the disturbing revelation that the general had been involved in the punishments of your family.

Walking alongside the dressmaker, the weight of the revelation bore down on you like a suffocating blanket. The image of Seonghwa, once your loving husband, now tainted with the sinister aura of someone who could watch others suffer without flinching, haunted your thoughts. Sure, you were there to witness him extracting the confession from your father, but you never fathomed that he would actually be involved in the subsequent punishment.

Your stepsister's words echoed in your mind, stirring up a cocktail of dread and uncertainty. Could it be true? Have you really forgotten the true nature of General Park? The man you had once trusted implicitly now appeared in a new, unsettling light. The realisation sent shivers down your spine as you contemplated the implications.

Fear gnawed at your insides as you entertained the chilling possibility that if he could inflict such cruelty upon your family, what would stop him from doing the same to you if ever he grew displeased? The thought sent a chill down your spine, leaving you questioning everything you once believed about the man you loved.

Throughout the remainder of the day, you remained unusually quiet, your thoughts clearly elsewhere. Hongjoong opted not to pry, deciding to wait until you were back within the safety of your home before broaching the subject. Despite his efforts to lighten the mood and draw a smile from you, it seemed futile. He was acutely aware of the impact Jinjoo's words must have had on you, especially given your delicate emotional state. After enduring years of mistreatment, he could see how trusting others fully must be an immense challenge.

Later that evening as you sat down for dinner together, he finally broke the silence, setting down his chopsticks with a sigh, "What's on your mind, Lady Park? You know you can talk to me, right?"

You paused at his question, pondering whether to confide in him about your inner turmoil. How would he respond? Would he be disappointed in you? After all, the general was his close friend. It seemed likely he would take Seonghwa's side and defend him. Though your husband hadn't given you any reason to doubt his affection thus far, his decision to hide this information from you must carry some significance.

"It's nothing, Hongjoong. Maybe I'm just feeling a bit weary after our day out," You mumbled, resuming your meal and hurriedly stuffing more food into your mouth to avoid conversation. He frowned at your behaviour and gently intervened, placing a hand on yours, "Hey, hey, slow down. The food isn't going anywhere; it's all yours."

With his arms crossed over his chest, he shook his head disapprovingly, "Who are you trying to fool with that lie? You might be able to deceive anyone, even your dumb husband, but not me. You were perfectly fine until you ran into your... into her."

You froze, caught red-handed in your attempt to deflect. You should have known better than to think you could fool Hongjoong with such a feeble excuse. Instead of scolding you, he softened, uncrossing his arms and leaning in, his eyes full of understanding.

"Listen, I'm sorry I wasn't there by your side to defend you earlier. I should have prevented all of that from happening today; it's entirely my fault. When I heard what she said to you, I knew it would affect you. And now, seeing you like this, I can tell I was right. Don't you dare believe any of her ridiculous words, you hear me?"

Setting down your chopsticks shakily, you turned to face him, despair etched clearly on your features, "But Hongjoong, what if there's truth in what she was saying? Wh-what if he eventually grows tired of me? Will I end up suffering like all of them too?"

The dressmaker didn't have the heart to berate you, understanding your doubts despite the internal frustration he felt at your stepsister for undoing all the trust you had in Seonghwa with just a few words.

He released a deep breath and offered a smile, "Have you forgotten everything I've told you about how he's different when it comes to you? He would never do anything to hurt you; I can vouch for him. As ruthless as General Park can be, he reserves that side only for those who deserve it. Your family deserves every bit of the punishment they received for the harm they caused you. You shouldn't feel any guilt for them, you know?"

Hongjoong leaned in closer, his tone softening, "Trust me, she's just jealous of you. It's obvious she's envious of the life you have now, and she's intentionally trying to stir up trouble between you and your husband. Don't let her get to you. You and Seonghwa have something special, something she'll never understand."

As his words sank in, you felt a slight sense of relief wash over you. It did make sense that Jinjoo would resort to such tactics out of jealousy. After all, her resentment towards you had always been evident. You felt ashamed for entertaining the possibility of your husband hurting you when he had only ever been good towards you.

However, the memory of the scars on your stepsister's body lingered in your mind, knowing the ones on your father and stepmother were even worse than what you've seen. While you recognised that your family deserved the consequences of their actions, the realisation that Seonghwa had played a part in their suffering made you feel sick to your stomach. Your emotions were in disarray; it was difficult to act nonchalant after learning the unsettling truth.

Despite the turmoil raging within you like a storm, you didn't want to add to your friend's concerns. Putting on a smile, you nodded, "You're right, Hongjoong. I must be silly to let her words affect me like this." You forced a light chuckle and went back to your meal, hoping to change the subject.

Though the dressmaker felt somewhat reassured that you acknowledged his advice, he sensed you were still troubled by what you had learned. He could only hope that with time, you would be able to move past Jinjoo's words. The last thing Seonghwa needed upon his return from war was to find his beloved wife fearful of him.

Damnit, I shouldn't have taken her there.

"General Park hasn't arrived yet, you say? Well, who would have thought he'd become such a loving husband? This Lady Park must be quite remarkable for him to—"

Rolling his eyes, the general heard the familiar deep voice gossiping about him from outside the main tent, where meetings would take place. With a loud clear of his throat, he pulled open the flap and entered, his presence immediately causing everyone in the room to straighten up, "I'm here now, Mingi. It would be great if you could cease your idle chatter and get to work at once."

"S-sir! It's been a while, you look good—"

"Save it, Officer Song."

Acknowledging the command with a salute, the taller man swiftly proceeded to the central table, laying out numerous documents detailing the strategies he had developed, "Yes sir, here are some of the plans I've drafted thus far."

Seonghwa nodded approvingly and approached him. As he listened to his colleague's explanations, a satisfied smirk graced his lips, affirming his keen judgement in promoting the right individual.

General Officer Song had risen to become one of the most esteemed military strategists in Joseon, all thanks to General Park's recommendation. Your husband was notoriously difficult to impress, but Mingi's exceptional talents caught his attention during a particularly challenging battle many years ago. Despite being a mere low-ranking soldier at the time, he devised a brilliant plan that ultimately turned the odds in their favour, leading to an epic victory.

"Ruhon is known to be rash in their decision-making; their impulsiveness is evident in their sudden attack plans," The taller man explained, his fingers tracing over strategic points on the map, "We can capitalise on this by striking where they least expect us. Through my research, I've identified blind spots that will catch them off guard. May I have authorisation to deploy troops to these locations, sir?"

The general nodded decisively, "I have faith in your judgement, Officer Song. You've never let me down in all our years together; I'm confident this time will be no exception."

"Thank you, sir."

Once all the necessary arrangements had been finalised and everyone had been briefed on their roles, the meeting came to an end. While the other officers and soldiers hurried off to relay the information discussed and carry out their assigned duties, Officer Song lingered behind, sharing a knowing look with the general.

Taking a seat beside the person he considered his friend and mentor, Mingi offered a genuine smile, "Congratulations on your recent marriage, hyung-nim."

Returning the smile, Seonghwa gave the taller man a pat on the back, "Thank you, Mingi-yah. I hope you've been well these past few years. Once this is all over, might I hear news of your own wedding?"

Blushing faintly, the strategist shook his head, "Unfortunately, I haven't found my one yet. But I am happy for you, general. Everyone in Joseon seems to know about your new wife and her difficult past. I'm just glad you found each other. I heard you were granted a few days with Lady Park before coming here. How is she holding up?"

The mention of his wife brought a pang of discomfort, evoking memories of your heartbreaking farewell. Throughout his journey to the war site, your husband couldn't shake the image of your tear-stained face, "She's... she's handling it better than I expected, or maybe that's just what she's showing me. When I told her about my departure, she didn't break down. Instead, she smiled at me with understanding and simply asked when I would be leaving."

"Huh, did she really?" Mingi mused, a hint of admiration in his tone, "I suppose now I understand why you're so smitten with her. It seems she's truly as delightful as the rumours claimed." Even from the snippets of what he had heard, the strategist could tell that Lady Park was indeed an extraordinary person, and he could see why Seonghwa held you in such high regard.

With a nod, the general's expression grew sombre, "Indeed, she truly is. But I won't lie and say I'm not worried about her," He admitted, "When she first arrived, I treated her poorly. I mistook her for just another spoiled brat, only to learn she's suffered a life far worse than mine. I'll never forgive myself for that. From that moment on, I vowed to give her nothing but the best. You know, I had plans for a grand wedding, a chance to make up for everything..."

Officer Song's face mirrored your husband's solemnity as realisation dawned, "Then this war happened..."

"Yeah, but that's not all," Seonghwa continued, his voice heavy with worry, "I just... God, what if I don't return to her? I've only just found her..."

Bowing his head, the general felt overwhelmed by his concerns. Mingi placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "Have you forgotten who you are? You're General Park of Joseon, the King's most trusted warrior. If anyone can make it out of this war unscathed, it would be you. Trust me, you will make it back to Lady Park. And you better invite me to that wedding of yours." The strategist said, his words laced with a touch of humour.

Despite the weight of his worries, your husband chuckled softly, nodding gratefully at the reassurance, "Of course, Mingi."

Before the two could continue their conversation, a soldier barged into the tent, panting heavily, "General Park! Some of Ruhon's troops have been spotted approaching. We need you out there!"

Alright, let's get this over with.

Meanwhile, back in the general's estate, you found yourself in your usual spot in the pavilion. Lady etiquette books lay scattered around, forgotten as your gaze drifted distantly over the tranquil lotus pond.

Regardless of the overwhelming emotions that had consumed you the day before upon learning the truth about your family's punishments, you couldn't deny the longing in your heart for Seonghwa's presence. Being alone in the pavilion now felt even lonelier than before. Accustomed to his warm embrace, his absence left a void that seemed impossible to fill.

However, as you contemplated the absence of your husband's comforting presence, conflicting emotions surged within you.

No matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn't shake the unsettling realisation that the same hands that held you close were also stained with the blood of countless others. Hongjoong's reassurances echoed in your mind, yet a nagging doubt persisted. While he assured you that the general would never harm you, your moral compass grappled with the knowledge that he was capable of inflicting pain without hesitation, regardless of justification.

It just felt so... wrong.

"Ah, is this the famous lotus pond you've mentioned, Miss Jang?" The unexpected voice startled you out of your thoughts. Turning to confirm your suspicions, you let out a loud gasp at the sight of the fourth prince standing before you.

You scrambled to your feet immediately, performing the formal bow, "Y-your Highness! What brings you here?"

Rushing up behind Yeosang, the head maid panted heavily, bowing deeply before you and shooting an apologetic glance, "Mistress, I am so sorry for not alerting you of our guest! His Highness showed up spontaneously without making an appointment prior and wouldn't allow any of us to announce his arrival."

Eunsook nearly had a heart attack when one of the maids informed her that the prince had arrived unannounced, waiting to be greeted at the entrance of the estate. Jongho was absent, having gone out with a few other servants to replenish household essentials. Rushing over, she found that Yeosang had insisted on surprising you personally, leaving her flustered and anxious. With her master now at war, it was evident to her that His Highness was attempting to make an advance on you.

The prince couldn't help but grin at how adorably confused and caught off guard you looked, "Yes, that's right. I wanted to surprise you, Miss Jang. Are you surprised?"

Quickly regaining your composure and summoning the poise of a noblewoman, you nodded, "I guess I am, Your Highness," You said before turning to dismiss the elderly woman with an assuring smile, "It's alright, Eunsook. I was growing slightly bored anyway. Come, Prince Yeosang, let me show you around, and you can tell me why you've decided to pay us a surprise visit."

Recalling his fondness for flowers, you led him through the winding paths of the estate's gardens, each turn revealing a new burst of colour and fragrance. Sunlight danced through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the well-tended flowerbeds, "Now, I know our humble garden obviously cannot compare to the ones in the palace, but I am very proud of our servants' hard work. What do you think, Your Highness?"

While your eyes remained fixed on the colourful flowers, the prince's gaze was captivated by you, his admiring gaze lingering on your graceful movements amidst the blooms.

"I agree; I think it's absolutely enchanting. While it may be humble, it surpasses the beauty of any of the palace's gardens." He remarked, his words carrying a subtle double meaning. He wondered if you could discern the implied compliment; he was indirectly comparing you to the royals in the palace. In his eyes, you outshone any of his sisters, his father's concubines, and all the potential candidates ever presented to him.

Yeosang found himself torn between amusement and slight disappointment as you appeared genuinely oblivious to the deeper meaning of his words. Your reply, however, pleased him, "Thank you, Your Highness. It seems you have good taste," You attempted a joke. Fortunately, he laughed in response, "I think I do too, my lady."

He halted his steps and turned to you, "I have a question," He said, and you nodded, encouraging him to continue, "Go on. Ask away, Your Highness."

"Even with all these beautiful flowers here, is your favourite still the lotus?" Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the lotus, a symbol closely tied to memories of your husband. Determined not to show any hint of turmoil, you nodded and answered steadily, "Of course, my prince."

The prince kept his smile intact, "Hmm, I see. Is it solely because the general dedicated a pond full of them to you?"

When you remained silent, he clarified, "What I mean is, if you had the freedom to choose, which flower would truly be your favourite? Instead of accepting what's given to you, I believe you should have the right to make your own choice." It was another subtle suggestion that you should be able to choose your own path, including your life partner, rather than conforming to arrangements made for you.

It appeared that you had grasped the underlying meaning of his words this time. You blinked rapidly as you gathered your thoughts before letting out a chuckle, "Ah, I suppose that hadn't crossed my mind," Shifting the topic, you continued, "Anyway, let us move on from idle chatter. Why don't you enlighten me on the purpose of your surprise visit, Your Highness? With my husband away, I'm unsure if there's anything I can assist you with."

Sensing your slight discomfort, Yeosang decided to get straight to the point, "Right, I'm aware General Park is currently away, bravely fighting for our country. That's precisely why I'm here—I was hoping you would be able to represent him at my upcoming birthday banquet. Her Majesty, the Queen, has also expressed her desire to meet you in person."

Your eyes widened at that, "Sh-she has?"

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Feeling like you were left with little choice but to agree, you accepted the prince's invitation to his upcoming birthday banquet, scheduled just a week away.

Since bidding him goodbye, you had confined yourself to Seonghwa's study, burying yourself in your studies. The weight of the upcoming royal event weighed heavily on you. It would mark your debut in royal circles, and facing it without your husband by your side added to your nerves. Could anyone fault you for feeling anxious?

You contemplated seeking help. While Eunsook was supportive, her knowledge of palace affairs was limited. Would Hongjoong or Yunho be able to offer insight? Perhaps Jongho, with his years of service to the general, might have some valuable advice.

A light bulb went off in your head when you remembered San, the King's royal secretary. Surely, he would be the most knowledgeable about the matters you needed help with. However, your enthusiasm waned when you realised you had no means of reaching out to him. Moreover, you doubted he would have time to spare for a little woman like you, given his busy schedule.

Palming your forehead tiredly, you suddenly noticed a shadowy figure loitering suspiciously outside the study. Their silhouette, visible through the paper walls, didn't resemble anyone familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine. If it had been one of the estate staff, they usually would have announced themselves.

Jumping to your feet, you instinctively grabbed the inkstone from Seonghwa's desk, preparing to defend yourself. With cautious steps, you approached the entrance where the unknown person lingered, apparently trying to catch a glimpse of you, "Who's there? I know you're not one of my staff. If you do not reveal yourself, I won't hesitate to hurt you!"

Your yelp escaped when the individual abruptly swung the door open in response to your words, "Woah woah, it's just me!" He reassured, causing you to pause with the stone halfway raised as you blinked in recognition, "O-oh, it's you..."

Scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, he apologised, "I'm sorry for startling you, Lady Park. In case you forgot, my name is Wooyoung. I'm here on the general's orders to assist you should you need anything."

Dun dun dunnn! Wonder what Prince Yeosang has up his sleeves heeheeee anyway, I just wanted to tell y'all that I'm about to have another crazy week ahead. So, like this part, the next one is probably gonna take a while too😭

Also, Happy Lunar New Year to those of you who celebrate it! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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