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yaksha-lover · 9 months

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Imagine being stuck between your not-boyfriend Leona and your dearest friend Malleus.

Things start out casual between you and Leona - you promise each other that you won’t catch feelings. There are endless reasons you two can’t ever be in a relationship: Leona’s the last person to want a commitment to anyone or anything, he’s a prince, you’re still planning to return to your home world. You agree to a few nights of fun whenever you both have time, eventually planning to go your separate ways without anyone ever finding out. Only things never work out that way.

One day, Leona stops leaving Ramshackle as soon as the two of you are finished. He stays and you make midnight snacks and actually talk. The late-night conversations show you a different side of Leona. You think the previous events of the night put him in a good mood, one where he’s willing to tell you stories of the Sunset Savanna, of his childhood.

Suddenly, the two of you are sneaking out of NRC on secret dates (neither of you call it that, but the dinners and sights he take you to are hard to dismiss as just a friendly get-together). It’s exhilarating while it lasts, the secrecy of this love affair. When it’s just the two of you, out where no one knows you, it’s like living in another universe where you could actually be together; there’s no mention of his royal status or your return home, there’s only you and him.

It’s hard to separate the ‘you’ that made the promise from the ‘you’ that knows the way Leona is when no one else is there for him to keep up appearances. You make a mistake; he’d huffed about holding your hand on a secret outing before, but ultimately he’d conceded and let you tug him along to places. This time, with an audience of the other housewardens, he isn’t so willing to forgive your little mistake.

Your attempt to take his hand and lead him out of the classroom is met with a fierce glare and him yanking his hand out of yours. You know it’s your fault - you should’ve known better than to break the rules that you agreed to, he’s not your boyfriend after all - but the sting of his rejection and the words of venom he spits at you have your chest squeezing tight enough to leave you rooted in place. Vil even stops to pat your shoulder on the way out, his pity at your rejection evident in his voice.

You think you might love him. The feeling is suffocating, nothing like you’d ever thought falling in love would be like. You’ve doomed yourself - Leona’s been clear about his intentions from the start - and still, you dared to hope that the sweet nothings he whispered in your ear meant something.

You never told Malleus about your relationship with Leona, but you never had to; he already knows. He’s far more observant than most give him credit for. What else can one do but listen when they have no one to talk to? No one, that is, until you. He notices the changes in you during each successive club meeting. The cycles of elation and heartbreak were easy to spot in your small grins and deep eye bags.

He’s a bit heartbroken himself when he first realizes it. He thought it was no secret that he was interested in you, but you remained oblivious despite his attempts. He comforts himself with the thought that this is just a temporary thing - a relationship never meant to last more than a change of seasons.

Eventually, when the sadness becomes too much for even you to hold in, you confide in him. That day, you cry into his arms and for the first time, he wishes to hurt Leona Kingscholar. Despite your insistence that this is not Leona’s fault, Malleus knows better.

It’s clear to anyone that Leona’s feelings for you run deeper than you know. Even before you two began this secret affair, everyone had known the way he looked at you, the way his eyes would linger. Now, his love for you is obvious in the way he takes care of you, the way he glares at anyone willing to come within a two meter radius of you.

It’s because he knows Leona has feelings for you that he hates him. Because his inability to express them sends you crying into Malleus’ own arms every time. You deserve better than someone who isn’t willing to show you how they truly feel. And yet, you never stop. You can’t resist him, Malleus supposes.

It hurts him, when you cry into his chest night after night. How cruel are you, to cry to him over another man when he has spent many nights simply trying to suppress his own feelings for you? He knows that you would never do this to him, if you knew about his feelings, but he can’t bring himself to tell you. He would rather stay by your side as a friend than lose you trying to become more. Malleus keeps that thought close to himself on the nights he’s alone and forced to wonder if you would’ve chosen him had you met him and not Leona first.

Malleus doesn’t know that you’ve thought the same, convinced that the dragon prince would never think about you that way. At first, you’d only really been interested in Leona, but the more he pushed you away and the more time you’d spent with Malleus, the more you began to see him in another light. You only become more and more confused about your feelings as time goes on.

The last time you’d seen Leona, you’d finally broken down and told him your true feelings. That you couldn’t do things casual anymore, that you’d longed to be with him as a real couple. You felt guilty also mentioning your growing feelings for Malleus, but in the end felt it was necessary to be entirely honest to him. You’d asked him to say something, to make a decision.

Leona hadn’t said a word, only staring at you in silence until you couldn’t take the feeling anymore and fled from his room. In a way, you felt that his silence had spoken for him and ended anything you thought existed between the two of you. You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell Malleus about it.

You have no idea how you make Leona’s heart ache. How much he cares about you and much it hurts to see your sad face when he has to pretend that he doesn’t. Old habits die hard, and Leona’s past makes it difficult for him to openly care about anything. He never wanted to make you feel like this - he wants to love you publicly, but his pride takes over and leaves him pushing you away.

He knows he sabotages all his chances at happiness, but Leona won’t let himself lose you. The next night, he shows up to your door, wearing a suit and flowers in hand (the most effort he’s put into anything in years), prepared to finally tell you of his feelings and ask you on a real date. He feels his heart sink when you open the door and he spots Malleus sitting at the coffee table behind you.

Only an hour earlier, Malleus had decided that he couldn’t live like this anymore, not telling you of his feelings. He’d also shown up at Ramshackle, asking you to talk. As he told you his feelings for you, you hadn’t said much, looking more surprised than anything. It was as he was waiting for your answer that the doorbell rang and Leona appeared on your doorstep.

The two men stare at each other and then back at you.

You have a choice to make: the handsome lion who’d won your heart during passionate nights or the beautiful dragon who’d been there for you all along?

#i know love triangles are cliche but these two got me in a chokehold fr #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #malleus draconia #leona kingscholar #twst drabble #twst #twisted wonderland #k.concepts

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thebestofoneshots · 30 days

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Waiting For a Girl Like You | wolfstar x reader

Pairing: R.L.. x S.B. x Gn!Reader (originally written as a woman but then I discovered I hadn't used any pronouns, and the reader was not particularly feminine, so it became my first official GN) Word Count: 5 k Warnings: None Prompt: Unbeknownst to many, your birthday has always been a quiet affair, you don't often celebrate it and you certainly weren't expecting for things to change the moment you met those two, enimagtic boys on your Creative Writing course. You could have not been more mistaken.

I got two requests a couple of weeks ago and I could not fulfil them on time for the life of me. Dear @msblacklupin and @propertyofrjl sent me similar requests about a certain birthday fic and first of all, Guys your birthdays are on the same day, How cool is that!?! Second, I'm so sorry I took so long, but it's finally here!

I decided to combine the prompts since I thought it would be really cute for the story, and this is what I've come up with.

Hope you enjoy, darlings! I'm wishing you all the best! xx Lils

Written for @msblacklupin and @propertyofrjl

You hadn’t had the best experience with birthdays so far. Back in your hometown, it was the same day as a special celebration of the discovery of the mines and they held a huge, town-wide party for it. The party was great, a fair, balloons, cotton candy, everything great, everything kids loved. Unfortunately, it was so good that people tended to forget about your birthday since they were excited about Mining Day.

Of course, people close to you remembered (your parents), but even though you had told your friends plenty of times that your birthday was on the same day, it had slipped their minds a good deal of times. You tried to make parties and people would prefer going to see the guest singer invited to the festival. You'd make them the next day and they were too tired to come.

Eventually, you just gave up on celebrating your own birthday and decided to join the rest on Mining Day, enjoying the candies and everything in between. It might have not been your special day but it was a special day and that was as good as you’d get. Or so you thought.

When you moved to London for university, you didn’t even think about telling your friends about your birthday, and they hadn’t asked either. That was until you took that Creative Writing side course and met them. You had been on time but the room had been filled to the brim with students, and there was nowhere to sit. You’d huffed and were about to leave to ask for a chair from a different classroom but when you turned around you bumped into the prettiest person your eyes had ever laid eyes upon, piercing grey eyes, long wavy hair, and features so elegant he looked royal.

He smiled, such a pretty smile. “Hey, you were going for one of these? I brought extra,” he said as he pulled one of the chairs up to signal what he was talking about.

“Yeah,” you said shily.

“Cool, come along then,” he said and you moved out of the way as he moved with the chairs. He moved his chairs all the way to a table where there was another stunning person sitting down. “What’s your name, Luv?” You replied with your name, soft and polite. “Pretty,” he said, flashing that same smile your way, meaning both you and your name, not that you knew. He accommodated the chairs, one next to each other, wiped his hands on his black jeans and then extended his hand to you. “Sirius Black.”

You shook his hand and then the other boy’s warm smile caught your eye. “Remus Lupin,” he said with his hand extended as well. He had scars all over his body, but it didn’t make him any less handsome. Were you curious about them? Of course, you were. Were you gonna ask? No way in hell.

The boys had met each other at a boarding school in Scotland and had moved to London recently. Remus wanted to take a lit class and tried to convince his friends to join him but Sirius didn’t love the idea of a class where he’d have to read and analyse books, so he suggested taking something more on the creative side.

Remus found the Writing Course and Sirius had been more than happy to join him. You and Remus actually had a lot in common, you discovered as the class went on. You had both read a lot, and you veered towards the same authors and storylines. You had an insane passion for Oscar Wilde and he loved Mary Shelly. You sometimes wondered if he liked her so much because of the way she described the Fiend, you truly hoped that wasn’t it, because while you could see how Rem would relate to the monster, you hated the idea of it, since you considered him absolutely stunning.

Days had gone by, and while you always sat with the boys and hung out with them every time you saw them at school, you hadn’t really seen them outside of it, that was until you got a group assignment and Sirius was quick to place his arms around both you and Rem and claim you as his team.

Remus scribbled your names on a piece of paper and handed them over to the teacher before she assigned each of you a different subject for your story. You got fantasy. The boys seemed to be diverted when you started talking about mythical creatures and wizards, and you assumed it had something to do with an inside joke they developed through the years of knowing each other.

They invited you over to their apartment that was just next to a corner cafe cleverly named “The Corner” and you had stopped by to get something for you and the boys, since you weren’t sure how long it would take and were now waiting just outside the door to their apartment complex.

“We’re coming, Sweets,” Sirius’ voice said through the speakers as the door buzzed open to let you in.

You used your shoulder to push inside and carefully moved the carton with the three coffee cups inside as you entered, your backpack strap got caught in the door and you were forced to turn around to and you opened the door again, placing the paper bag with fresh bread on your mouth to free one of your hands and pulled the strap free.

When you turned around, you were shocked to find a smiling Sirius right in front of your face. “You shouldn’t have bothered, Luv!” he said and extended his hand towards your mouth, taking the paper bag and then the carton with the coffee from your hand.

“I wanted to,” you said simply.

Sirius and you went up the stairs, Remus was waiting by the door and the two of them welcomed you in. For an apartment belonging to two boys, it was surprisingly neat. Remus had arranged his coffee table with a few cushions over the rug so you all could sit together, he had a couple of pens and pencils, his notebook and a stunning Remington Typewriter.

You almost walked straight to look at it when you spotted it on the table, “This is her, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Remus said as he sat beside you. “Wanna try it?”

“Can I please?” you asked, you had a Brother one at your apartment, and you adored her, but Remingtons were classics. His was from the 50s and it looked brand new. Rather than responding, Remus placed a paper through the platen and pushed it towards you.

Since you didn’t actually have a plan to write something, you just typed the boys’ Name and then yours, right at the top of the paper.

“What are we going to write then? Any ideas?”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to talk about wizards?” Sirius asked with a smile.

“But do you want to?”

He chuckled, “Of course, Sweets, we’d love to go for that.” He reclined his head on the sofa. “We’ve actually discussed it, and we have some ideas, don’t we Moony?”

Remus shot a look at Sirius, who winked in return.

“Yeah?” You asked as you turned your gaze to Sirius. “For the plot?”

“Mhm… hear me out. It’s a hidden school for wizards, you get there by taking a secret train hidden at King’s Cross. The school is full of magic and mysteries and ghosts and other magical creatures.”

You frowned, “I don’t know… it sounds a little too surrealistic, doesn’t it?”

Sirius laughed at your statement and Remus threw pillow towards his face, you squirmed in your seat a little uncomfortably and then Rem placed his hand on your shoulder, “It’s okay, Dove. We don’t have to go for Sirius’ idea.”

“But he said you wanted to write about it too…”

“I’ll be happy with whatever we make. I know with our writing skills and Sirius’ creativity we’ll make something brilliant.”

You pulled out your notebook and checked the list of ideas for the story you had to write. It had to be at least 50k words and you had three weeks to finish it. So the three of you would have to get writing as soon as possible, which meant you had to define the story and you had to define it fast. Most of your ideas were either unfinished, not doable in such a short time or had the opportunity to be integrated into Sirius’ magic school.

“Okay, tell me more about your Wizard’s school.”

Sirius smiled, threw a look at Remus –a satisfied sort of look– before turning back to you, “Okay, so the name is Wartshow: School for Wizardry and Witchcraft, and–“

“Doesn’t Witchcraft and Wizardry sound better, though?”

Sirius licked his lips and smiled. “All right then, Wartshow: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” You wrote it down in your notebook.

“It’s the story about a boy, a boy that thought they wouldn’t be able to assist even though he was a wizard.”

“Sirius,” Remus said in a warning tone.

“Shut up Moony, you’ll kill my inspiration.”

“Why did he think that?” You asked.

“Because he was bitten by a werewolf when he was 4.”

Remus scoffed and stood up, “I’ll bring the snacks.”

“Is he okay?” you asked.

“He’s not a fan of my story,” Sirius said. “He says the main character is not a hero, but I differ.”

You hummed in response. “What’s the boy’s name?”

“Re- Andrew,” he said, “Andrew Renault.”

“Renault? Is he french?”

“No, I don’t– he is not.”

“Okay, then we should go for a more English name, like… Remington?”

“Andrew Remington? Sounds posh.”

“As if Sirius Black sounded less posh,” you joked and he scoffed playfully at you. He continued listing his ideas, telling you Remus’ story although he had changed the names of almost everyone. “Will there be dragons?” you asked after he had laid out the basic idea.

“Dragons? Those are dangerous!”

“Of course they are, but it’s more exciting than the…ugh” –you checked your notes– “boggart monster you mentioned.”

“Dragons are definitely more exciting than Boggarts,” Remus said as he sat on the floor next to you. You couldn’t help but notice his scars, perhaps Sirius had used those as inspiration for Andrew.

“Okay, so we’ll add dragons. What if there’s a dragon in the dungeons?”

“No, in the dungeons there are snakes,” Sirius said as if it were a fact. He had clearly thought this out.

“Okay… what about a secret room in the castle that has dragons? It’s magical, right? It could be bigger on the inside, like the TARDIS.”

“The what?” Sirius asked, confused.

“The TARDIS! From Doctor Who?” you said as if it were a fact, he still looked confused. “You do know what I’m talking about, right Rem?”

“Is it a book?” he asked.

“A book? How do you even call yourself Brits if you don’t know about Doctor Who? That’s it, Sunday, my house, we’re watching a marathon.”

“Whatever you want, dove,” Remus said and handed you a piece of chocolate.

“So, going back to the story. A room that’s bigger on the inside. Like a… Chamber of Secrets?”

“Sirius,” Remus warned again.

“It’s what she said!” Sirius said defensively.

After that, you finished plotting the small story in between the three, even with the slight reluctance you detected from Remus, you got around to defining all of your main characters, the challenges they’d go through and the resolution of the story.

“By the way, tomorrow is our flatmate James’ birthday,” Sirius said as he closed the notepad he’d been writing on. “Wanna come to the party?”

“I don’t think I’ve met James, though.”

“It’s fine, he’ll love to meet you I’m sure,” Remus said. “When is your birthday?”

“I–“ you hesitated, “I don’t really celebrate it.”

“Why not? We should definitely celebrate the day you were brought into this world,” Sirius said.

You smiled, Sirius could be the sweetest sometimes. “I don’t do parties…”

“Because you don’t want to?”

“No! It’s just… long story, don’t bother yourselves with it.”

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Sirius offered. “In exchange, you give me your birthday, how about that?”

You laughed, Sirius wasn’t the type to care too much about things, so you walked towards him and whispered the date in his ear.

“Now yours?” you said as he leaned closer to you.

“It’s all real, we are magicians from the school in our story,” he whispered.

You laughed. “I thought you’d tell me a real secret, should have known,” you added as you shoved him, he just laughed and shrugged in response, as if he was saying it’s your loss, for not believing his lie.

After that day, you hung out with them almost all the time, be it to watch movies, to continue that Doctor Who marathon, or to hang out with the boys on their birthdays. In fact, it was almost odd if you didn’t see each other in more than a couple of days, since they would find almost any reason to meet, Sirius would call and say ‘Hey, there’s a new movie I want to see, you coming with us?’

Or Remus would leave a note on your mailbox telling you to come with him to a library later that day since he had just finished the book he was reading and you were always the best at finding the right books.

So. of course, you thought it was odd when, on the morning of your birthday, you called their apartment and got no response. Now you weren’t expecting a grandiose party, you weren’t even going to get a cake or anything, but you wanted to see them, maybe go out for dinner, or have a cinema night. You rang them again and still no answer.

You sighed and walked towards school. You didn’t have that creative writing course today so you weren’t expecting to see them there, but perhaps on the lunch break, you’d find them in your usual spot.

Your classes were rather tedious, an old professor that spoke very quietly and you had to sit at the very front to even hear him, and then another professor who almost always went over the same thing you’d seen in the first class. Always, round and round the same thing, with nothing new. At least you’d have a class with Professor Almain before lunch. It was your favourite class of the semester –aside from the writing course– and so far, you thought it’d be the highlight of your day.

But when you got to his classroom, the room was empty and there was a short note on the board: Professor Almain is indisposed today. Study Chapters three and four of your book, you’ll be discussing them next class. The note was signed by Tobby Klein, his assistant.

You sighed and sat down on one of the chairs, sulking as you took out the book mentioned and started to read. Someone else tried to enter the room a few minutes later, and when they realised there would be no class, they left the classroom instantly. Perhaps they had something better to do, you didn’t.

You had taken that class as an extracurricular, so you barely knew the students in it, and your classmates were in a class you had taken online, so you couldn’t exactly go search for any of them. You could have gone to the library, but it also seemed unnecessary when you had a perfectly quiet classroom all to yourself.

You were about halfway through the chapter when you heard someone knocking on the glass window. When you turned you spotted Sirius waving his hand at you with a bright, pearly smile. He looked as dashing as ever. It was ridiculous how pretty you still thought he was even when you saw him all the time.

He entered the room shortly after. “What are you here all alone?” he asked as he pulled a chair next to yours and pressed a short kiss on your cheek as a greeting. Sirius did that all the time, you’d assumed it was because he was half French.

“Class was cancelled,” you said as you pointed to the board. “Had nowhere to go. Aren’t you supposed to be in class too?”

He hummed in response. “It’s that stupid advanced maths class Moony convinced me to take, I was falling asleep and asked to go to the bathroom to throw some water at my face when I spotted you.”

“You should go back.”

“To maths? Rather than staying with you? Yeah, right!”

A small smile appeared on your lips as you stared at him while shaking your head in disbelief. “What if you fail, though?”

“I’m not going to fail,” he said with a shrug. “Moony can tell me what it was about later. Wanna grab something to eat? My treat.”

You nodded and pulled your bag from the ground. “I was actually going to invite you guys over tonight,” you said as you opened the zipper and placed the book inside the bag, “I mean I’m sure you don’t remember, and I don’t really want to make anything big but–“

“That today is your birthday?” Sirius asked.

You turned to him in shock, “You– you…”

“How on earth would I forget?” he said with a smile. “It’s the day my best girl was born. They should make a fucking parade for you.”

You felt your cheeks warm at Sirius’ grandiose attitude. “Come on,” he said as he stood up and offered his hand. “It feels like a day for ice cream, want some?”

You nodded and he dragged you towards the parking lot, his hand not leaving yours at all, you tried to ignore the fluttering in your chest since you suspected he had a thing with Remus, but it was almost impossible when he looked at you with his stunning grey eyes.

He took out the helmet they’d gotten you when they started offering to take you on rides from Moony’s bike and handed it over. It was a full-face black helmet that matched the one the two of them wore almost perfectly, but while Moony’s had a half moon and Sirius’ had a star, yours had both.

It had been Remus who added the matching moon, and Sirius –who instantly got jealous over it– painted a star right in the middle, he was exceptionally good at painting, sometimes you wondered why he didn’t study art. Then again, you weren’t sure what exactly they were studying, since they had taken classes from more than four different degrees as if they had only picked the few classes that they were interested in.

You took the helmet in between your hands and hopped on Sirius’ bike. He drove you to the small park that was just a couple of minutes from the school and got you your favourite ice cream from the small ice cream shop James had discovered a while back.

“So, about tonight?”

“Moony has a thing,” Sirius said with an apologetic smile. “He has a big presentation tomorrow and he’s working on it with his team tonight, they’ll be using the rooftop of our apartment for it, I believe.”

“Oh,” you said, trying to hide your disappointment.

Sirius bit his lip, “Why don’t you come over?”

“I wouldn’t want to be a distraction, I mean–“

“I don’t have to work on any projects,” Sirius said. “We could play chess, watch a movie while he finishes and then we order something to eat.”

“You– do you really think that’s a good idea?” you asked, uncertain, as you brought your ice cream to your mouth.

“For sure,” he said. “We could get a cake and–“

“No cakes.”

“But you like cakes!”

“Not on my birthday.”

“That’s ridiculous! You have something on your face.”

“Where?” you asked.

“There,” he said as leaned his finger close to you and smeared some of his ice cream over your cheek. You gasped in shock.

“Sirius!” you admonished.

“Yes, Luv?” he responded, as if you had just called him.

You used the napkin wrapped around your cone to clean your cheek, “That was uncalled for.”

“I don’t know about that, your cheeks looked like they needed some ice cream,” he said while trying, and failing to hold back a smile, he pulled a napkin from his pocket, much like a magician would do, and handed it over to you. You were about to take it from his hand, but he shook his head and wrapped his fingers around your chin and turned your head to the side softly. “Allow me.”

He took longer than needed while whipping your cheek, but he didn’t exactly want to pull apart, and you didn’t want him to pull apart either.

“There you go.”

“It’s sticky now,” you teased.

“Nothing can keep you happy, can it, Sweetheart?” he said dramatically and wrapped his arm over your shoulders and leaned his head on yours.

You just laughed. Sirius convinced you to skip the next class and stay with him at the park and then took you home.

“Want me to pick you up?” He asked as you got down from the bike. He had propped the small side stand down and was leaning on the handlebar. You could hardly believe he had driven you all around looking that handsome, with his leather jacket, and high boots. Sirius was pretty all the time, but sometimes he felt more like a fictional character than like an actual human.

You saw a girl eyeing him as she passed by, and you couldn’t help but smile at him and nod. “Yeah, that would be lovely. At 7?”

He smiled, gave you a short wink, and put his helmet back on. “See you soon, Sweetheart.” He said, voice slightly muffled by the helmet before he drove off. You entered your apartment shortly after, and it took you a whole minute to recover. It’s not that you hadn’t gone out with Sirius plenty of times, but this one seemed a lot more like a date than all of the previous ones.

You took a snack bar from your pantry, went for a shower, and asked your classmates about the class you’d missed. A friend of yours told the teacher that you were feeling sick to cover for you and he said he wouldn’t count the absence (it was the first time you missed that class anyway), and you had always been rather participative.

After that, you grabbed the book you’d been reading and read until it was 7. The light outside had already gone out, and you took some chocolates you’d bought for Remus last week and placed them in your backpack, it was then that you heard the familiar honk of Sirius’ Triumph.

You walked downstairs and met him outside. He switched his band tee for a snug turtleneck sweater that fit him obscenely well and was still wearing his leather jacket. You had kept your helmet and put it on as you approached his bike.

“You smell nice,” you said as you sat behind him.

“You think?” he asked, playing dumb. “Maybe it’s the aftershave,” he added as he pulled the side stand up and drove into the street. You eyed him suspiciously, not that you could see much while he had his helmet on but you still did.

By the time you arrived at their apartment, you had forgotten all about your suspicion and were just leaning onto Sirius as much as you could, since the night had grown a lot colder than you expected it would. Sirius parked his bike just outside and the two of you walked the three floors of stairs to their apartment.

You expected to see James lounging around like he often did, but he was not there, and Sirius told you Remus was on the terrace at the top, doing his thing, so you walked towards the sofa while Sirius offered to make you a cup of tea.

“Remus bought the one you like,” he said, pulling out a box with the tea you had tried a while back. You had fallen in love with the flavour, but you never found it in the supermarket –it was from a small tea shop at Diagon Alley, so really, there would be no way for you to find it.

“Okay,” you said, “got milk?”

Sirius nodded towards the fridge and you helped him by pulling out the milk and some biscuits. When your cup was ready, he handed it over to you and took a sip of his own. He glanced at the clock quickly, so quick you barely even noticed and then smiled. It was that mysterious smile of his that told you he was up to something. “We should go see Remus.”

“What? I thought he was working on his project.”

“He probably is, but you haven’t seen him all day, I’m sure he wants to at least give you a birthday hug.”

“A birthday hug?” you asked in disbelief.

“Yes! A birthday hug! We’ll bother him for a bit and then we come back and you tell me about that book you’ve been reading. The one with the character you said reminds you of me.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” you said with a laugh as you nodded and followed along with him.

As you reached the top of the stairs you heard some shuffling on the other side of the door. Sirius was the one to open it first, but none of the lights they normally had were up.

“Maybe they went to do their homework at the Corner Cafe,” you told Sirius as you turned to him. Suddenly all the lights turn on, including candles and the hanging fairy lights at the top.

“Surprise!” A chorus of voices sang.

You were startled, Remus and James were right in front of their small table, and there was a cake right in front of them. They had invited their friend Lily, who was dating James and with whom you were fairly close to. She was the first one to approach you.

“I can’t believe Sirius was the one to tell me when your birthday was, Luv! He used to forget mine all the time!” She turned to Sirius with an accusing gaze and then back at you. “Happy Birthday,” she added as she hugged you.

James gave you a short squeeze after and Remus wrapped you in his arms and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. Sirius joined the hug right after.

“You’re squeezing me, boys!” you complained in a laugh.

“It’s a birthday squeeze, deal with it,” Sirius responded, and pressed even closer.

“Remus?” you tried, he was the most reasonable one between the two.

“You heard Sirius, Dove. It’s the birthday squeeze.”

You must have stayed like that for at least a minute before either of the two let go of you, you were certain Lily had whispered something to James, but you were too busy basking on the wrath of the squeeze to bother. After that, you would have sworn the lights of the cake turned on by themselves as Lily walked over to you with it. They sang Happy Birthday while Sirius pulled you to sit on his lap, using the terrible excuse that there was no other seat available.

You had cake and then they handed over your gifts. A book from Lily and a chocolate frog from James, although he warned you not to open it until later. You didn’t know what that was about but decided to do what was told. Eventually, Lily said she had to go and James offered to walk her.

Although he said ‘I’ll fly you’ getting a look from Remus that you missed entirely. The boys had extended a pair of matts over the deck and you were all laying on them while gazing at the stars.

“It was lovely, thank you for the surprise,” you said as you looked at the waning moon.

“It was nothing, Luv,” Rem said.

“Remus was really eager to celebrate your birthday. We actually have a little present for you,” Sirius added.

“Really?” you asked, turning to Sirius.

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“Open the frog,” Remus prompted.

You leaned forwards and sat on the mat, pulling the frog from the table and doing what told. Suddenly the Frog that looked like it had been made out of chocolate jumped and fell near Remus’ leg. You gasped and stared at the moving frog. It looked like chocolate, but it moved as if it were alive.

“What– did James give me an actual frog?”

“No, it’s chocolate,” Remus reassured and picked it up. The frog stilled in his hand.

You stared at it in disbelief, “Is this some sort of trick?”

“It’s magic,” Sirius said.

You frowned at him.

“Remember the story for our class? The one that we worked on together?”

“Wartshow, Andrew, yeah of course.”

“Well, It’s sort of real.”

“What?”

Remus pulled out his wand and handed it over to you. You stared at it, it looked like a wand, it felt like a wand, but there was no way it was magic because magic– “Is this some kind of trick?”

Sirius laughed and pulled out a different wand from his pocket, he whispered something and red sparks blew out from the tip. You swallowed and took it from his hands. Checking on it to see if there was some kind of trick, or cannon dust or something inside of it, but it was just a stick, fancy, but a stick.

Remus took his wand and with another set of words, levitated the small frog right in front of your face. You looked at it with eyes wide open and moved your hand all over it to make sure it really was floating, and it wasn’t some kind of invisible string trick. It was right in front of your eyes, and it was still too fascinating to believe.

“But… in our story, wizards couldn’t tell the non-wizards about their existence. It was meant to be a secret… I mean… Why are you telling me?”

Remus smiled, his hand searched yours and he leaned his head on top of yours and sighed. “Because we trust you,” he said while looking ahead, at nothing in particular.

Sirius searched for your other hand, making sure to turn it around and interwinning his fingers with yours. He placed his head on your shoulder. “Because we like you.”

You hadn’t had the best experience with birthdays, but this had been one of the nicest birthdays of them all, more so when your two crushes admitted what Sirius had meant by his words. That they liked you –romantically– not just as friends.

A/N: I am so, SO sorry for taking this long to finish your gift, but I made it a bit longer than initially planned to make up for it.

Hope you both had the most amazing birthday and that you're having a wonderous day today. Sending you lots of love, hope you enjoy this little thing <3

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rinixo · 1 year

Text

aquae vivae

Din Djarin/Reader | 4.1k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, PIV sex, Mand’alor Din Djarin, breeding kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of pregnancy, subtle sex pollen, wedding night, oral sex

Your wedding night as the new bride of the Mand'alor.

AU of the 'trying to sleep' series (non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi). Can be read alone.

a/n: This follows the same general story as 'thrones and people and cities' but can technically be read alone.I tagged 'sex pollen' but it just barely fits that trope. Mainly just added it so folks who aren't into it can skip/you're aware of the inherent dubious consent of it - but there is nothing but 100%, enthusiastic consent from all parties here.

read on ao3

You pause at the edge of the pool, eyeing the dark depths. The sound of dripping water echoes through the caverns, the only sound apart from your thrumming heart.

The murmur of your name snaps your attention to the caped man halfway down the steps into the pool. Din is half-turned towards you, armored head to toe as usual, the end of his long, furred cape floating in the still water. The cape around your shoulders matches his, and you rub the soft fur with your fingers nervously.

Din reaches out a gloved hand. Stepping forward, you lay your own in it and let him lead you down into the water. You’re surprised - despite the dark chill of the cavern, the water is strangely warm. You wonder if it is fed by geothermal springs, deep below the crust of the planet, or if it is something deeper.

There’s magic in the sacred pools, Din had murmured into your hair one late night. He told you about how bathing in the waters had redeemed him, how it was the great catalyst leading to his eventual accession to the role of Mand’alor. Now, as you stand before him, hands grasped in his, you wonder if the tingling on your skin is from the magnitude of what was about to occur or something more. Something without a name.

When Din had explained to you what a Mandalorian wedding was like, you had been quite happy at knowing it was a simple sharing of vows. He had then suggested that the two of you journey into the depths below the city center, to where the caverns with the living waters were located. There, just the two of you, you would bind yourself not only to the man you loved but also become Mandalorian yourself. It was a big moment, and one you had put a lot of careful thought into.

“Are you ready?” Din asks quietly. Squeezing his hands, you smile softly.

“Yes.”

Though you had memorized the vows before venturing into the caves, Din lead you through the words. You were grateful, not wanting to embarrass yourself by stumbling over the pronunciation.

“Mhi solus tome.”

We are one when together.

“Mhi solus dar’tome.”

We are one when apart.

“Mhi me'dinui an.

We share all.

“Mhi ba'juri verde.”

We will raise warriors.

—

Blinking at the late afternoon light, you followed Din up out of the caves, wet gown sticking around your legs. You were looking forward to changing out of your damp outfit and spending the rest of the evening with your new husband.

People buzzed around you the whole way back to your chambers, several of them wishing the two of you congratulations. You murmured shy thanks, the feeling of being the center of attention during what you felt was such an intimate time causing some of your innate timidness to come forward.

Din had explained to you that part of Mandalorian weddings included feasting and celebrating after the vows were shared. The families and clans of the couples were usually the extent of the guests, but with an apologetic smile, Din warned you that the feast to celebrate your union was likely to be much larger. He was quite beloved as a leader - as the first Mand’alor to resettle the planet since the Purge. The first royal wedding in decades, with the capital more populated than it had been in ages, was shaping up to be quite the affair.

The delegation from Naboo had also gotten involved. The ambassador, who had been so put off by your relationship at first, reveled in the chance to showcase Naboo. All week shipments of millaflowers and lanterns were arriving, along with cases of draping fabrics, mirrors, and jewel-toned crystal. He had even commissioned a gown for you to wear during the feast. Traditionally Naboo clothing was very structured, so you were thankful to see that the gown the ambassador had made for you was in the lake country style - lighter, made of lace and tulle, with a low, open back.

As you stepped into the gown, securing it at your shoulders and around your neck, you paused to look at yourself in the full-length mirror in the closet of your chambers. You had never worn something so lovely. Draped over a chair in the corner was your cape, now dry from its dip in the living waters. It was a symbol of your new status, and you mused at the fact that the gown complemented it quite well.

A knock at the closet door drew you out into the main part of your room. Din - your husband, you thought giddily - was standing there in his armor, sans helmet. You felt yourself flush at the way his eyes widened at your appearance, drinking you in.

“You look stunning,” he breathed, and you smiled at the compliment. You step forward and fuss with his armor - unnecessary, as it was spotless as usual - and looked up into his deep, kind eyes.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you remarked, leaning up to kiss the side of his mouth gently. You felt him smile and tilt his head to chase after your mouth, but you pulled away teasingly.

“Later,” you whispered. “We have a feast to attend, remember?”

Din grumbled, and you smiled placatingly. You’d be lying if you didn’t want to forget about the feast and spend the rest of the evening alone with your husband, but you knew if you didn’t show up for just a little while the ambassador would drag you there himself.

“I have something for you first,” Din pulled a small pouch out and turned it over. Something silver fell out into the palm of his gloved hand.

“A pendant?” You watched him hold it up, and saw that it was a delicate chain with a silver charm at the end in the stylized shape of some kind of creature, no bigger than one of your fingernails.

“I asked the armorer to make it,” he murmured. “It’s a Mudhorn, the symbol of my - our - clan.” He reached forward and clasped it around your neck, the weight of the pendant laying heavily on your breast. “It’s pure beskar, made from a piece of my armor.”

You looked down, touching it lightly. “It’s beautiful.”

Din merely smiled, leaning forward to place his forehead on yours, and you responded in a quiet moment of tranquility.

—

The feast was certainly one for the history books. The throne room made you gasp as you entered it, arm-in-arm with Din. The vaulted ceilings were lit with hundreds of beautifully crafted lanterns, mirrors, and crystals reflecting the shimmering flames around the massive space. The millaflowers and fabric draped every surface, the sweet scent of the blooms perfuming everything around you. You gave credit to those who had decorated - all of the decorations perfectly complimented the stark, structured Mandalorian architecture. It truly was a unification of your two cultures.

All around you guests came forward with well-wishes and gifts, which a never-ending retinue of assistants would take a place elsewhere. Grogu, who was also dressed up for the occasion, gurgled happily in his father’s arms at all of the attention. You, however, were starting to feel a bit overwhelmed.

Sensing your discomfort, Din lead you up to the raised dais in the front of the room, where the two of you sat side-by-side in lavish seats set in front of the throne. You reached for a goblet and downed a mouthful of sweet, flowery liquor. Din - who had put his helmet back on before the two of you joined the celebrations - tilted his head slightly in amusement.

“Feeling all right?” He asked, placing his hand on your thigh soothingly. You nodded, placing your drink down on the table and sighing deeply.

“Yes, I just needed some space,” you admitted. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know,” he answered. “Just a little while longer.”

Guests continued to stream up to the two of you, though now that you were seated and there was a decadent table between you and them you felt more at ease.

An elder Mandalorian approached your table with a crystal carafe filled with a deep red liquid. Setting it gently on the table, they intoned in heavy Mando’a.

“Wine,” Din translates, “Made in the ancient tradition from herbs and tinctures symbolizing prosperity and love. It’s a gift from those who remember the old ways and hope that our union brings forth a new age of growth for our people.”

“Thank you,” you express, taking the carafe. The elder bowed, before shuffling away to allow others to come forward.

The number of people coming up to you seemed to go on forever, and you poured yourself a generous glass of the special wine to help distract you and calm your nerves. It seemed to be working, the sweet yet tart liquid filling you with a familiar warmth and ease. You offered some to Din, who accepted a small taste by lifting his helmet enough for you to tip the goblet into his mouth.

After a while, you felt yourself relaxing into the plush furs of your chair, leaning against Din’s side. You played with Grogu’s ears as he tucked into the snacks laid out on the table, smiling fondly at the child and his voracious appetite.

“Does this mean I’m his mother now?” You wondered aloud and felt Din chuckle.

“I suppose,” he mused. “I’m his father, and you’re my wife, so that would make him our child.”

“Hmm,” you wiped a crumb from the side of the baby’s mouth, amused. “I always imagined my first child looking a little more like me.”

Din coughed, tensing slightly next to you. “Well,” he intoned lowly, leaning a little closer so that his words were only audible to you, “Perhaps the next one will.”

He placed his hand on your thigh again, the thin fabric shifting as he rubbed your skin. You felt warm from your head to your toes, with most of the heat pooling between your legs and where Din’s hand was placed. Throat suddenly dry, you lifted your drink and took another sip.

“C-can we go soon?” You lilted, wanting nothing more than to return to your rooms with Din alone.

“Soon,” Din promised, and you tensed your legs slightly to try to alleviate the ache growing between them. It was a familiar kind of ache, one that you had felt before, wine or no wine. However, there was something different about the way your body was reacting to the man next to you, and you weren’t sure how long you’d be able to take it before pouncing on him in front of everyone in attendance.

Thankfully it was not very long before Din gestured to a member of his staff and had them assist the two of you in making a smooth exit. He passed Grogu, now pleasantly drowsy, to one of his aides and then guided you back to your shared chambers.

When inside you kicked off your shoes, sighing at the relief of the cool floor under your feet. Din let go of your hand and locked the doors behind you, the sound of it engaging sending a throb of anticipation through your body.

You stepped towards your bed, which you had been sharing with Din for months before this. Something about its wide surface, covered in soft linen and furs, felt different this time. It was now your marriage bed.

The sound of Din removing his helmet, the seal disengaging, made you glance over to him. He placed it down gently and started with the rest of his armor. You stood there as if transfixed, watching as the man beneath the armor was slowly revealed. You always enjoyed being the audience to this ritual, and tonight was no exception. In fact, your body continued to warm, shivers of need going up your spine.

Din turns towards you, dressed down only to his most base inner layers. Realizing you were staring, your hands went to the clasp of your gown before he stops you with a low murmur.

“Allow me,” he husks, and you drop your hands to allow him to undress you himself. His fingers, surprisingly soft despite his rough past, dusted across your skin as the lace and tulle were unwound from your frame. At the same time, he began to back you up until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Pulling a pin from where your neck met your shoulder, your gown unraveled and fell softly around your legs. Din’s hands paused, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you there, bare save for the beskar pendant around your neck.

“Beautiful,” he rasped, and you nearly moaned at the tone of his voice. It rolled over you, through you, like thick, rich honey and smoke. You could practically taste it. With a gentle push, Din laid you back onto the bed, standing over you with a hungry look in his eyes.

“I dreamed about this.” He kneeled on the bed, crawling up your body. “You, in my bed, wearing the symbol of my clan.” His head dipped to place a kiss to the center of your ribcage. “Bound to me.” You shivered again as his mouth trailed up to your collarbone, your neck, and across your jaw. Your hands, shaking with expectant thirst, snaked up his powerful arms to clutch at his shoulders.

You wanted to say so many things, all of the emotions that had built up catching on the tip of your tongue, but when you opened your mouth all that left you was a choked “please.”

Din’s mouth slotted over yours and you moaned deeply into it, body arching up to press against his firmer form. One of his hands came to your thigh, and you hitched it up around his waist, rolling your hips wantonly. Your hands ran under his linen shift, and you whined at the barrier between your skin and his.

With a groan, Din’s mouth released from yours just long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head and throw it to the side. He continued his exploration of your flesh, licking a slow stripe down your arched neck. You hissed as his teeth pulled at your skin, your nails scratching lightly across the skin of his upper back.

“Din,” you crooned, hand going to his head as he dipped down to tease the peak of one of your breasts with that wicked tongue. You cried out as he sucked roughly on your nipple, sensations of velvet and fire going straight to your swollen pussy. His mouth moved between the tips of your breasts, pinching and sucking and nipping at the flesh there until it was as swollen as your pussy felt.

He raised his head, eyes wild. He took in your body, writhing and panting, and thought you reminiscent of molten steel. You sought his gaze, pupils blown dark and wide with desire.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Din croaked, dipping his head down to nose the soft skin of your stomach. “Perfect creature…” he kissed his way down your lower abdomen. “I want to fill you up, sweet girl - do you want it too?”

You let out a wail as he licked a firm stripe up your leaking cunt. He lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders so that you were bent - your upper back laying against the bed, your hips angled up towards his mouth. You were wetter than you thought possible, your pussy swollen and flushed. Din sucked firmly on your clit, moaning at the way you keened and shook in his grasp.

Your hands thrashed, clutching desperately at the furs around you. Your thighs tensed, squeezing tightly against the sides of Din’s head as he brought you closer to the crest of your pleasure.

The feeling of his mouth leaving you made you groan in frustration as he dropped your lower body back to the bed. You opened your eyes, brow furrowed as you propped yourself up to stare at your smug husband.

He climbed over you again, shedding his pants. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the hard cock between his legs, flushed and bobbing, leaking clear droplets of pre-spend. You laid back, legs spreading so that he could settle between them firmly.

“Eager girl,” Din teased. “You that desperate to have me inside of you?”

“Din,” you groused, “If you don’t fuck me soon I think I’m going to die.”

He laughed, husked low in his chest as he pressed himself firmly to your swollen entrance. You laid your head back onto the bed, sighing in relief as he began to stretch your walls. It felt like he was splitting you right down the middle in the best way, and you arched your back to let him sink in further.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasped, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re a jewel,” he breathed roughly, hips snapping forward until you wailed. “Taking my cock so well.”

You shifted your hips under him, angling yourself to take him as far in as your body would allow. He chuckled at your frustrated expression, arms braced on either side of your head. He bent forward to capture your lips in a messy kiss.

“My little wife,” he breathed over your lips. “Wants my cock so badly.”

“’S'good,” you slurred. “Big. Fuck me, please.” He answered you with a rock of his hips, hitting that spot inside of you that made you keen again.

“Tell me what you want, baby” he crooned against your mouth, hips slapping mercilessly against your pelvis. “Come on.”

“C-come in me,” you begged. Flashes of images - a little curly-haired baby at your breast, curled up against Din’s chest as he whispered to it lovingly, lowly - made your pussy clench around him. Your body ached for it in a way you had never experienced. You wanted him to get you pregnant, wanted to carry his child inside of you.

“Fucking - anything you want, sweet girl,” Din gasped. “Want me to fill you up “ he rides you hard, desperate for the way you cry with every punch at your guts. “You’re so good, baby, fuck-“

He continues to ramble, lost in how you’re tensing around him. “You’re gonna look so fucking beautiful, full of my child. You don’t know how badly I want it, so badly - I can practically see it -“

Emotion wells up in your chest, binding with the pleasure thrumming through you. You’re nearly there - fire rising from your toes and flooding down from your chest. Din dips his head to kiss your neck, and you start to tip over the edge. Your orgasm starts deep inside of your cunt, from where his swollen head is grinding up into your walls, and sparks down to where his pelvis rubs against your clit. Your vision goes white and you hear Din cry out as your desperate pussy wrenches from him his own release.

“T-take it,” he growls, hips snapping against yours, the head of his cock tight against the seal of your womb. You whine at the pressure of it, the feeling almost too good to bear. You shift your hips, pulling away before his head snaps up from your neck.

“No no no- take it,“ he groans, hand tight on your hip. You writhe under him, tears of pleasure pricking the corner of your eyes. His gaze on you burns, and you struggle to see him clearly through the fog of your ecstasy.

His pace remains steady, desperation clear in the way he rams his cock up into your cunt. “Your duty,” he gasps, leaning forward so that his chest nearly crushes you. “Do your duty and take my seed, bear my children.”

He holds you there as he pulses out the last of his release, breath leaving him in short pants through his nose. His teeth are gritted, brow furrowed, gaze locked to your eyes so that you can’t look away.

“D-Din,” you shudder, and his eyes soften. His grip on your hips loosens minutely, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“You did so well,” he praises you. “You’re so fucking good.”

You blink wetly, mind still focused on his cock and how it’s anchored inside of you, pinning you to the bed, plugging you securely. Din tilts his head at your determined expression, and when you roll your hips experimentally he sucks in air sharply.

“Feels good,” you mumble, drunk on the pleasure and the feeling of him still hard inside of you. Stars, how was he still so fucking hard? And why was your body telling you to make him come inside of you again?

Think about that later, you decide, hooking your legs around his waist and pushing him further up into you. He chokes again, head drooping to look at where the clutch of you holds him tightly inside.

“Fuck,” he moans. “You’re never going to know sleep without the feel of me leaking out of you.” He rolls his hips back before slamming back into you, your mouth opening in a satisfied groan. “Not until you’re fucked full of my child, sweet girl.”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding feverishly. It’s all you can manage to say, everything in you focused on where his body enters yours, in and out, inandout-

The two of you spend the entire night and most of the early morning like that, tangled together, until your bodies are near to collapse from exhaustion. It’s Din who taps out first, placating your desire with soft kisses to your temple and strokes to your still-swollen cunt. It isn’t long before your eyes start to droop, sleep just on the edge of your consciousness as he teases you to one last, lazy orgasm. You all but pass out, head resting on his chest to the feeling of him stroking your hair lovingly.

You wake hours later, alone in bed. Your body aches sweetly, and as you start you rise you roll your neck and groan.

“Good morning,” a raspy voice greets you, and you turn to look at where Din leans up against a dresser. He sips from a steaming mug, brow raising in humor at your bedraggled appearance.

“G’morning,” you croak, throat dry. Din sets his mug down, trading it for a glass. He comes over to the bed, sitting next to you, and hands it to you. You take it, gulping down the cool water gratefully.

“What time is it?” You asked, licking your lips. When he tells you - mid-afternoon - you scoff. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Din’s brow raises again, and he leans back against the headboard. “Thought you needed the rest,” he said, amusement in his tone. “Since you kept me up all night.”

You pouted, indignant and embarrassed. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it,” you mumble, and he laughs.

“Quite the opposite,” he husks. “And as much as I’d like to take responsibility for your behavior, I had a feeling it was due to something else.” You tilted your head in confusion, sipping more of the water.

“The wine,” he explained, and you thought back to the previous night - somewhat difficult a task - and remembered the crystal carafe.

“Turns out they mean “new age of growth” more literally than I understood,” Din continues. “That wine is made from herbs that act as an aphrodisiac and increase fertility. You drank a lot more of it than I did, so it hit you harder than it did me.”

You choke on your water, some of it dribbling down your chin. Wiping it away, you set your glass to your side and cover your eyes, groaning. Din pulls you closer and you bury your face in his chest, burning with embarrassment at the situation - and the implication.

“Silly girl,” he croons, hand creeping down your side. You look up at him, another shy pout on your lips, and he tips your chin up to kiss you slowly, deeply. You sigh into it, shifting your leg to straddle his lap and feel him smile against your mouth. You shift down to where his cock sits, firm and proud, and grind your bareness against him until he groans.

“More? So soon?” He whispers darkly, and you nip at him cheekily. Pulling back, you look your husband in the eye, a mischievous glimmer in your gaze.

“Might as well make sure it works, right?” You tease lowly, and shriek in loving laughter as he throws you down and begins to devour you again.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #mando x reader #din x reader

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mysteryshoptls · 8 months

Text

SSR Jamil Viper - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Jamil: As a supporter of the Land of Dawning National Museum of Art's 100th Anniversary Celebration, I've made sure to look into every single exhibit.

Jamil: If I recall, the next exhibit over should have a painting of the Sorcerer of the Sands on display…

???: That's a good look he's got there. Makes sense, though, this captures the moment he got his hands on that Very Rare mat he'd been searching a long time for, so.

Jamil: Idia-senpai, is that you over there…?

Idia: EEK! O-O-Oh, it's Jamil-shi. Don't just suddenly start talking to me like that…

Jamil: My apologies. I didn't expect you to be this startled just by calling out to you.

Jamil: At any rate, this painting is spectacular… It's overwhelming to see the real thing in person like this.

Jamil: He overcame countless ordeals and finally obtained the magic lamp that he had been continuously seeking for many years…

Jamil: This painting perfectly depicts the legendary tale of the Sorcerer of the Sands.

Idia: …He continuously searched for just one thing for countless years, huh. I think I can sympathize with him.

Jamil: Sympathize?

Idia: Ah, no, uh… I just meant that there was something that I wanted to have, no matter how hard I'd have to struggle to get it, is all…

Jamil: Something you wanted to have, no matter how hard you'd have to struggle for it, hm…

Idia: Th-The way you reacted there… W-Was there something that you wanted, Jamil-shi?

Jamil: Yes, I suppose I want…

Jamil: THE POWER TO COMMAND THE UNIVERSE.

Idia: HUH!?!

Idia: N-Never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth, sounds like something a middle schooler would say…

Jamil: I was just trying to mimic a quote that comes from the legends of the Sorcerer of the Sands, but… Looks like you didn't catch the reference.

Idia: Ah, so it was a joke… For a second there I thought we were similar, soz…

Jamil: No, there's no need for you to apologize… We were talking about things we want, right?

Jamil: There are many things I want, but… I suppose my current priority is networking.

Idia: Siiigh, so that's what you went with.

Idia: Still feel like I could relate better with you when you said you wanted "the power to command the universe"…

Jamil: In order to fulfill my deepest desires, I need useful…

Jamil: …I mean, helpful people with whom I can solidify and further my relationships with.

Jamil: After all, they say that the Sorcerer of the Sands also received assistance from many people in order to obtain that magic lamp.

Jamil: That is why I want to network and make human connections, so that I will never miss out on my deepest desires.

Idia: Yeah, I can get wanting to get your hands on a rare item as much as the next guy, but…

Idia: Leaving it to other people means they could end up betraying you. And it'd already be impossible to set up those human relations from the get-go.

Idia: But hey, since the Sorcerer of the Sands held the spirit of deliberation…

Idia: Maybe he was able to work with others the same way you think through things, Jamil-shi. IDK.

Jamil: If there were any similarities in the way the Sorcerer of the Sands and I thought, then I would consider that a high honor.

Jamil: In most legends, he is described as a man who was prepared for any possible circumstance that could arise.

Jamil: That is, in both the country's affairs, and his personal affairs.

Jamil: In order to become someone as great as he was, I will continue to improve myself with care.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Jamil: This is a painting of a bird. It seems what's depicted here is the hornbill that served the royal King of Beasts family for generations…

Idia: U-Uh-huh… Looks like it's spouting something of all smug-like.

Jamil: Perhaps he's advising the royal family on something… Or no, maybe he's just lecturing.

Jamil: From what I understand, in addition to being the king's chamberlain, he was also the prince's chaperone as well.

Idia: For him to lecture someone he serves like that, he's either got guts or is unafraid of anything…

Jamil: Well, if the prince was the type to do his own thing, or act without thinking, dragging other people around him into his messes…

Jamil: I think I also would have a few frank words to say to him.

Idia: Jamil-shi, doesn't it seem like you're bringing your own feelings into this?

Jamil: …You must be imagining it.

Jamil: Now that I think of it… I heard that this hornbill was once asked by the King of Beasts to sing lullabies.

Idia: H-He asked his stern chamberlain for lullabies… Sounds like the King of Beasts' courage knew no bounds.

Jamil: Perhaps he got along well with the King of Beasts, let alone the prince.

Idia: My vote is that he'd have him sing lullabies in retaliation for nagging him day in and day out.

Jamil: Haha, that's possible too.

Jamil: But even so… Lullabies, huh. I remember my sister used to pester me for them all the time way back when, too.

Idia: U-Uh-huh… What another lovely memory for you.

Jamil: I don't know what you may be imagining, Idia-senpai… But it absolutely isn't a lovely memory at all.

Idia: Eh, r-really?

Jamil: Yes. Even though I tried my utmost to sing her a lullaby to help her sleep…

Idia: She wouldn't sleep at all?

Jamil: That'd still be a cuter outcome than what would happen.

Jamil: She'd furrow her brow at me and say YOU'RE TERRIBLE AT THIS!

Idia: Gaha! Out of the mouths of babes, as they say!!

Idia: Oh, but you were part of the NRC Tribe, right?

Idia: So that should mean that your singing was good enough to be chosen by that Vil Schoenheit, right?

Jamil: Well, sure… Ever since my sister first made fun of me, I've practiced a lot. I thought I improved enough that I could sing in front of people without embarrassing myself.

Jamil: My sister was also watching the live broadcast of the VDC, so I said to her, "Guess you can't make fun of me for being terrible at singing anymore"…

Jamil: And she responded with, "What are you even talking about?"

Idia: So she didn't even remember she said all that!? H-Heehee… Jamil-shi, that sucks!

Jamil: Right, I felt like an idiot for overthinking it for years.

Jamil: Well, I guess all's end that ends well, since all that practice means that my grades in music class don't suffer.

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Idia: Ooh, the painting we can see over there is of the Thorn Fairy. It looks like she's in a bit of a pinch surrounded by a ton of soldiers.

Jamil: Yes but look at her expression. Although there are so many weapons pointed at her, she fears nothing.

Idia: More like the soldiers are the ones who're scared of her. But, how did this situation happen, in the first place?

Jamil: They say that the Thorn Fairy held magical power so great that everyone prostrated themselves before her. That is why she is legendary.

Jamil: However, humans often fear those who have unfathomable power…

Jamil: So I'm sure there were some humans who would attempt to point their weapons at her in this fashion. Foolish, is all I can call them.

Idia: Uh-huuuh, I see. If it were a video game, I can understand getting all excited trying to figure out a way out of throng of people, but…

Idia: If I ever got surrounded by so many people IRL, I'd faint immediately.

Jamil: I'm sure you're just overexaggerating about the faint…

Idia: Overexaggerating!? J-Jamil-shi, are you saying that you could go up against a large group of people like that and stay composed?

Jamil: Hm, I would… I would come back another day and request to speak one-on-one with the king who commands those soldiers.

Jamil: Well, that's assuming that they are a king who is willing to have a rational discussion.

Idia: Oh, so you wouldn't be able to handle them like the Thorn Fairy would…

Jamil: Well, isn't she considered one of the Great Seven because she can accomplish things that ordinary people cannot?

Jamil: Not only does she harness great power, but she is also very big-hearted. If it were me, I would probably have retaliated against them.

Idia: Oh, yeah? What kind of revenge would you come up with? Make 'em stub their toe on a desk corner or something?

Jamil: Heh, perhaps.

Idia: Oh, that look in his eyes means he's definitely plotting something…

Idia: I-I just remembered something urgent I need to do, so I'll leave you to it!

[Idia runs away]

Jamil: Something urgent? What else could he possibly have to do here? As supporters we're just here to enjoy the art museum.

Jamil: Well, no matter. I was just thinking I'd like to look at the exhibits quietly without anyone else bothering me.

Jamil: "What kind of revenge would I come up with?"… Hm.

Jamil: Well, if it were me…

Jamil: I would make them feel abject humiliation in every possible way so they could never walk the earth with dignity ever again.

Requested by @bibi-cha.

#twisted wonderland #twst #jamil viper #idia shroud #twst jamil #twst idia #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: najma

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ino-tamukas-baggy-sweater · 4 months

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A Second Chance, A Father's Curse - Part 1 (Ryomen Sukuna X Reader)

This is part of my Royal AU, the first I'm writing for it, there may be inconsistencies between each different fic set within the universe including but not limited to which damn clan does Sukuna belong to, but I'm sure it'll be fine :))

also i hope the family tree kinda makes sense, i can make a separate post showing the different clans and their family trees if needed

Warnings: mentions of an affair, brief mentions of abuse but nothing explicit

Word count: 3.1k

When the boy first showed up everything had been good, a new son had been born into the Itadori clan, the royal family was stronger than ever. This boy threatened to bring all of that down simply by existing. Jin Itadori was not known for his mercy, often ruthlessly leading swathes of knights into battles and leaving none alive, but this boy was no ordinary enemy. His own son, illegitimate, but still his flesh and blood. His wife said nothing when he brought the screaming baby into the nursery that was only meant for one, placing him beside Yuji in his large crib.

Kaori Itadori simply accepted what had been given to her and raised the boy as her own, despite the neglect and clear favoritism shown from Jin to his alleged twin sons. The two were almost identical despite the fact they had different mothers, which was how the lie was able to be carried so easily through their lives. Ryomen knew, he had always known, and he’d hated almost everyone for it. The only people he couldn’t truly even pretend to hate were his adopted brothers, and he let everyone know this vehemently, shirking his duties and often hiding away from elaborate dinner parties or balls he did not want to attend.

Yuji’s heart broke for his brother, and of the five Itadori boys, only the eldest Choso knew of the predicament underlying the twins. The youngest, Eso and Kechizu, were born one after the other, three years apart, with significant health complications and therefore rarely appeared in public. The elder three were fiercely protective, especially Ryomen who’d had a taste of his father’s neglect and despised that Jin had turned it on his youngest sons. None of the three wanted to burden their younger brothers, they’d been told that the pair might not live to become adults, so they had always made sure the boys were well fed and happy.

Ryomen suffered in silence. His teachers could not quell his anger, the best sorcerers warned of his growing cursed energy levels, but nothing was ever done. Nothing really could be done. By the time he turned nineteen he was undoubtedly the strongest of the Itadori boys, and his father was adamantly trying to wed him off to a different kingdom. Ryomen didn’t care, the faster he got out of Khoccadia the better in his opinion. He spent his days training in combat with the knights, including the captains of both the Shadow and Blood units, Megumi Fushiguro, and Takuma Ino.

Megumi Fushiguro interested him, the man was his age, his twin brother’s personal bodyguard, and he had the inherited cursed technique of the Zenin clan, the royal family of a neighbouring kingdom. His unit, aptly named the Shadows, were a small close knit group of Shikigami summoners, led by a wielder of the undisputed king of Shikigami techniques. This made him both an outsider and a refugee, having been forced to prove his loyalty a thousand times over, including regaining the trust of the royal family after his technique was revealed during an attack on the kingdom where he had to unleash his power to protect Yuji.

The other captain, Takuma Ino, wasn’t as interesting or close to him, but still a formidable ally and opponent, having first trained under the royal sorcerer Kento Nanami, before his technique proved to be more useful on a battlefield than overseeing curses. Ryomen often found himself sitting with the pair post-sparring, looking out over the training grounds within the castle walls, and asking himself where he would go if he decided to run. He knew he wouldn’t get far, his cursed energy was much too unique, Nanami would be able to find him with no trouble. His only way out would be this arranged marriage, and he had to be sure it was far far away from here.

This is what eventually lead to Jin Itadori hosting a ball and inviting many of the leaders of nearby nations to attend with their daughters, royal, political, and otherwise. Few invites were sent out past the neighbouring nations, but Ryomen had to be sure, so he had insisted under the cover of lies that his father’s orders had the invitations sent further. When the day of the ball arrived, Ryomen was reluctantly dolled up in a luxurious maroon suit, his hair styled with earrings and cufflinks to match. When he met up with Choso and Yuji, he saw they were dressed similarly to him, but Yuji’s suit is a deep pink and Choso’s a dark purple.

“Don’t we just look a treat,” Ryomen huffed, reaching up and adjusting Yuji’s collar slightly. “They were chosen by mother,” Choso looks away and Ryomen finds himself almost apologising. It wasn’t her fault, she was a victim of the system just as he was, but he shakes it off. “You okay?” Yuji mumbles, giving his brother the same outfit once over. The twins had always known what would make each other look the best, Ryomen let him fuss with his hair a little before swatting his hands away. “I don’t think I’ve ever been okay, I can’t wait to get the hell out of here so I never have to see him again,” He growls. Choso checks his watch as they approach the upstairs entry to the ballroom, the laughter and chatter behind it dying down as someone announces their arrival.

“I hope you find someone,” Yuji squeezes his hand for a brief moment before Ryomen can pull away or protest, dropping his hand before the door swings open and the three of them are revealed to the eyes below. Choso in the centre with his brothers flanking, there are smiles of all kinds as they descend the stairs. Some genuine, some scheming, others that don’t quite reach the eyes of their owners.

Ryomen Itadori doesn’t get nervous, but in this moment he finds his eyes searching for Kaori Itadori. She returns his gaze from her place on the ballroom throne and nods once. This party is for him, it’s his ticket out of here, and it almost feels to him like she’s lending him her strength. The strength to do what she never could. When the three of them reach the bottom of the stairs, his brothers disperse into the crowd to find dance partners, and Ryomen finds himself alone surveying what he can see. The only clan tattoos he recognises around the edges are those belonging to the Zenin clan, the Gojo clan, the Kamo clan and that of the Creyarean district, which is a political power and not run by a royal or empirical clan.

There are a few tattoos he does not recognise, he assumes from further out on the continent, and one in particular draws his gaze. A kindly looking couple, king and queen, with matching filagree tattoos over their facial features, most prominent on their jawline, cheeks, across the nose and in the centre of their foreheads. No other family has tattoos that bold, the closest in comparison is the Kamo clan with a jagged X over the right eye, and he finds himself curious as to their origins. “Brother! I’d like you to meet someone,” Yuji’s voice suddenly cuts into his wandering thoughts and he scoffs, “Leave me alone Yuji,” He grunts, but his brother barges into his space, his mouth right next to his ear as he utters the words that could be Ryomen’s salvation.

“Her family comes from miles away, three kingdoms over!” Yuji hisses. His gaze flits to the girl who stands holding Yuji’s hand, looking like she’s just been dragged at a brisk Itadori walk across half the ballroom (Which she had been). His brother drops her hand as he steps back and presents her, “Allow me to introduce Y/n L/n, of the Iqorian Empire,” Unmarried, she does not bear her parents tattoos, but there are two thick black bands around both her wrists which could be a hint at early clan tattoos that don’t decorate the face.

She curtseys and he feels his demeanour soften slightly, taking her hand which still hovers unsure before her to press a light kiss to the back of it. He keeps his face painfully neutral as he studies her features, her e/c eyes traveling back up to meet his. “Lovely to meet you, Miss L/n, Ryomen Itadori,” He introduces himself politely, though he knows that she must already know who he is, given his brother has a tendency to babble. She uses her free hand to fix her h/c hair before giving him a polite smile, “Some party your parents cooked up, is the potential marriage for diplomatic purposes?” She asks. He clenches his jaw slightly, his gaze scanning the crowd as he instinctively pulls her slightly closer.

His father’s face is dark and sinister, his eyes locked on Ryomen but his mind elsewhere, “You could say that,” He replies, “But I would say it’s freedom,” Her eyes widen and he steels himself, she must be able to sense the years of neglect and abuse on him, he knows he reeks of it, but if she does she doesn’t mention it, “I see,” She murmurs, “Well, would you like to dance?” He looks at her like she’s grown an extra head for a moment, but Yuji punches his side and he blinks, “Yes yes, of course, that would be nice,” His words drift away and he becomes eternally grateful for the dancing lessons Kaori forced him to endure as he leads the girl out into the centre of the dance floor.

The night passes by quicker than he would have liked it to, despite stepping into the ballroom like a caged wolf with the taste of freedom on his tongue. He comes to learn from the girl his brother introduced to him that the royal couple he didn’t recognise, with the outlandish filagree tattoos, are her parents, and he is hooked from that moment on. You of course know there is something he is hiding, but his sudden interest in your clan tattoos brings a soft smile to your face as you look over to your parents. They seem to be overjoyed that you’ve caught the attention of the Itadori son up for grabs, but you know there’s more to it considering the fact that he should be the second in line, and yet is being married out of his family into another.

“I am certain we will be seeing one another again, Miss Y/n,” He murmurs as he presses one last kiss to the back of your hand, his fingers tracing one of the black lines on your wrist. You grab his arm before he can turn away, “Ryomen,” You murmur in response, “Sir, are you in trouble here?” He does not reply, his gaze is hard, but you feel a lack of response is enough for you to fill in the gaps.

He’s not welcome in his family, and you’re determined to get him out and then find out why, even if it means ruining any diplomatic relationship Iqoria could have with Khoccadia. You omit the fears you hold close to your chest when your parents demand to know how your night went, they were watching and already knew you were the only one Ryomen Itadori spent his night with. This is a golden opportunity, he is already well known throughout the continent as the strongest Itadori son, he would be a priceless addition to any family, and nobody else seems to be questioning the fact his father doesn’t seem to want him to stay.

A foolish decision, considering the fact his cursed energy swamped the entire ball from the moment he entered the room, just barely discernible from that of your parent’s royal sorcerer, Satoru Gojo, who came to meet with other royal sorcerers in attendance. You are reunited with Suguru Geto, your personal guard and the Captain of the Iqorian Guards, after conversing with your parents. He escorts you back to the room provided to you within the Itadori’s castle for the night, “I take it the night went well, your highness?” He asks as he follows you in.

You find yourself unable to respond, chewing on your thumbnail as you sit at the dresser, leaning your head on your free hand. Lost in thought you don’t hear him approach until his hand is on your shoulder, “What ails you my lady?” “He’s tormented,” You murmur, “Prince Ryomen, he’s trapped, and something is very wrong with this family,” His face reflected in the mirror is one of soft confusion, and you find you can’t hide anything from him. He’s trained you your whole life, and you trust him sometimes more than you trust your parents, he’s like a second brother to you, “I asked if he was in trouble, and I fear a lack of response or denial is enough to ascertain the danger, I must marry him if he is to survive with his humanity intact,”

Geto frowns and grips your shoulder slightly, “I will call for your maids, this stays between us,” He announces, “Sleep well your highness,” “Where are you going?” “To let your parents know I am in full support of this marriage, he’s incredibly strong after all,” His face is sly as a fox and you find yourself speechless, “He’ll be a great asset if we give him the chance,” Once he is gone you find comfort in the knowledge of his support, thus allowing you to slumber in peace.

When the morning arrives, you find yourself swept up in preparations for the wedding, which you find after questioning the closest maid is to be held that very day. His father must be desperate to get rid of him before he becomes a problem, and you’re more than willing to let Kaori Itadori and her maids along with yours fawn over you and dress you in the finest white dress you’ve ever seen. You’re understandably nervous, your parents dropped by only once that morning to tell you what you already knew about the conversation they shared with Ryomen’s parents, but they also said once the wedding was over you’d be leaving for home almost immediately.

This was, surprisingly, not the most shocking thing you’d heard all morning. It fell just behind the fact that it would be Geto and not your father who would be walking you down the aisle, a few of your closest maids acting as bridesmaids. This is to go along with a Khoccadian custom involving the parents of both spouses, while also incorporating the ‘giving away’ portion from Iqorian marriages. Ryomen’s mother wraps her arms around you quickly outside the throne room before she pushes a bouquet of red roses into your hands, tears in her eyes, “Take care of him,” She whispers, her eyes intense and so full of sadness you think you may cry too. You nod, words escaping you as you turn to the throne room, the music floating out at you different to the wedding music back home.

It dawns on you as the doors open to reveal you to the crowd that you don’t know Ryomen Itadori. You don’t know his favourite food, you don’t know his favourite hobbies, you don’t know what he likes in a partner, you don’t even know what his relationship with his brothers is like. It’s too late to wonder, as you clutch the bouquet in your hand and link your other arm with Geto who has just appeared at your side. His presence helps to calm your nerves, but you’re still antsy as you approach the front of the room where Ryomen waits for you, looking equally antsy but for a different reason.

You know he wants out, and you’re his ticket, you just have to get through the next hour of formalities. The crowd is never truly silent during your ceremony, there’s always a low hum of chatter, but it doesn’t disturb or deter the continuance of the ceremony. You can feel Jin Itadori’s eyes on you almost the entire time and you endeavour to ignore him as best you can, focusing on the feeling of Ryomen’s hands in yours. You take the time before and during vows to study his face, the way he scrunches his nose sometimes or crosses his eyes to make you smile. It works, and he squeezes your hands to add reassurance to the moment, until finally you’re pronounced as husband and wife, and without even a second thought or hesitation he pulls you into him, pressing his lips to yours.

You’re breathless, your hands clutching his biceps, barely hanging onto the threads of your discipline before he pulls you into him for a hug, “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” He mutters against your ear, kissing the side of your head as the crowd cheers and his words are lost in the cacophony of sounds. You let your eyes speak a thousand words as you meet his gaze, smiling softly before finally speaking, “You’re safe now,” His shoulders relax as the two of you turn to walk back down the aisle. Once out of the throne room, his brothers are there to greet him, and Yuji hugs him tightly, “Brother…” He murmurs, “Don’t forget us, you understand?” He grips the back of Ryomen’s head and presses his forehead to his twins, “Promise me?”

Ryomen blinks sadly, “I’ll come back for you,” He whispers. The two younger boys crowd between the twins and Ryomen holds them, the taller one seems quite physically weak, and the shorter one has not opened his eyes, but he holds them close. “How does Ryomen L/n sound?” He asks softly, “Fitting?” Yuji smiles, “For you? It’s perfect,” Just before the two of you can be whisked away by your maids, he grabs his elder brother’s hand, “Choso,” He forces the man to look him in the eyes, “Look after them, don’t let them end up like him, or me for that matter,” He growls, “Swear on your life,”

Choso nods, “I swear on my life,” Ryomen nods one final time, “I hope we’re all better people when we see each other again,” He says, words meant only for his brothers that you catch while ushering your maids away from the moment. His hand on your back is the only warning you get before he’s nudging you along the tidal wave of people who head to the main entrance.

A grand exit, the staircase long, carriages await at the bottom, and Ryomen’s freedom. A price paid a thousand times over, a dream finally allowed to come true, and a man desperately clinging to the bare threads of his humanity. The world gives him a lifeline in the form of a girl second in line to her kingdom’s throne, and he finds he remembers why he endured staying alive all those years. His real family, his only family, his brothers - and maybe even revenge.

twins sukuna/itadori lives rent free in my head because of this app so here's my royal spin on it :) I hope you enjoyed

part 2 here!

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #yuji itadori #choso kamo #satoru gojo #megumi fushiguro #kento nanami #suguru geto #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x reader

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m1ckeyb3rry · 2 months

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── THE GLASS PRINCESS // ELEVEN

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: Your evening with Lee is cut short by the arrival of a strange boy with hooked swords. Instead, you go to the fountain and reveal your greatest secret to the Blue Spirit.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.0k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: i hope you guys don’t think i’m insane for how often i’m updating

Something amazing had just happened to you, and there was no one you wanted to tell more than Kuei. Your brother, who you loved more than anything. You could envision his pride already, the way his face would glow when he saw it, the way he’d pick you up and spin you around and tell you how happy he was.

It was as you ran down the carpeted hallway towards his chambers that you heard hushed voices coming from the room where your brother’s council of advisors met. He was still young, of course, a child as you were, and so the daily goings-on of the kingdom were managed by these advisors, who were all specialists in their field and had advised your father before Kuei.

Always more interested than your brother in this type of affair, you rested your back against the wall by the door, holding your breath so that you did not alert the men to your presence. They were speaking quietly, but they had left the door ajar by mistake, and so it was not very difficult for you to listen in.

“That boy is no king,” the first said. “Do you think his father would let Long Feng walk over him like that?”

“He is still a child,” the second said. “We cannot expect much from him.”

“Even as a child, he has no interest in learning statecraft, nor the history of his kingdom. He’s far too busy playing with his sister and drawing pictures of bears in his lesson book to absorb anything of use. I fear his reign will lead to the end of the kingdom as we know it,” the first argued. At this, the second sighed.

“You’re right about that much, to be sure. He does not have the power to back up the few proclamations he makes. What kind of general obeys a king like that?” the second said.

You swallowed, for these were words you knew to be treasonous. They were speaking ill of your brother, of the King Kuei, and they ought to lose their stations for it. There was nothing you could do, though; even if Kuei would believe you, who else would? Who would discharge two premier advisors on the words of a little girl?

“If only he were born an Earthbender,” the first said. “Then he could be trained. Then there would be a way that he could eventually gain the respect of the rest of the council.”

“There hasn’t been an Earth King who could Earthbend in many decades now,” the second said. “At this point, I’d even take a queen, if she could just do that much.”

“What do you mean by that?” the first said. The second huffed.

“You know. That sister of his,” he said. “If she shows some promise…if she can lift even a pebble…then we will do what we must in order for the kingdom to have a strong ruler.”

“You’d kill the king in favor of a queen?” the first said.

“If she can Earthbend, then I’ll kill anyone for her to rule,” the second said bluntly. “It’s about time that the world was reminded of why Shan’s line is so feared.”

“You are more daring than I thought, old friend!” the first said. “Let’s vow to keep an eye on the young princess. The moment she gives us a hint that she can Earthbend, we will strike.”

“And if she doesn’t?” the second said.

“Then we’ve lost nothing but a few spare moments spent caring for our dear king’s heir,” the first said. “It’ll only make us look better in the eyes of the royals. We really cannot lose in this scenario.”

“You’re right,” the second said.

You didn’t stay to hear the rest of it. Staring at your palms in horror, those very palms which might lead to your brother’s death, you ran back to your room as fast as you could, pressing your hands over your ears as you chanted the same thing to yourself under your breath, over and over like it was a mantra.

“I am not an Earthbender. I am not an Earthbender. I am not an Earthbender.”

“You know, I had a lot of fun with you,” you said, pulling on the end of Lee’s sleeve to get his attention. “Lee, I really am being serious. I enjoyed it.”

The two of you had spent the rest of the afternoon doing random things around Ba Sing Se. You had bought lunch for you both, and Lee had argued with the vendor until he agreed to give you the food for half-price, after which you had sat by the fountain and eaten together. It was surprisingly nice, even though neither of you had spoken much. Oddly, you didn’t mind silence with him. It was alright. It was nice, even.

“Yeah, whatever,” Lee said. “I guess you could say I had fun, too.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to admit that you like spending time with me,” you said.

“It might,” he said.

“Oh, save it. At the minimum, won’t you say that it was better than working the afternoon shift?” you said.

“That much is true,” he allowed. “But it’s back to work for me now. It’s just about time for the evening round to start.”

“For shame,” you said. “Let this not be the last time we do something like this together.”

“Okay,” he said gamely. You were actually taken aback, not expecting him to agree so readily. Lee was one of those particularly contrary people, the type to refuse on principle, even if he harbored no real misgivings, so for him to just say yes was out of character. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Did you like your lunch that much?” you said.

“Huh?” he said.

“It’s just that I wasn’t expecting you to acquiesce so quickly. Normally, you would’ve pretended to deliberate over it for at least a minute or two,” you said.

“You told me a good story,” he said. “Do you blame me for wanting to hear more?”

“Ah, so I’m your new theology lecturer,” you said. “You should’ve said so from the start.”

“Not exactly,” he said, staring at his feet as he walked. “You’re something else.”

“Something else! And may I be privy to what that might be?” you said.

“No,” he said. “It’s for me to know, not you!”

By his tone alone, you could understand what that something else could represent, but you did not force him to explain further. He always gave you these considerations, never made you talk more than you offered, never demanded you elaborate, so you did the same for him, only humming a song your brother used to sing to you as you entered the tea house.

“This is where we must part, then,” you said when you and he reached the counter. Lee pulled his apron down from its hook and tied it back on miserably, already dimming, though you had not noticed until it was vanished that he had been close to happiness the entire time the two of you had been together.

“Lee, Y/N! You’re back!” Mushi said as he exited the kitchen. “How was it?”

You arched a brow at Lee, jerking your head towards Mushi, indicating that he had to respond in his own words. It was not just because it was polite; you wanted to hear it, too. What would he tell his uncle about the outing? What had he thought of it?

He finished tying the apron behind his back in a neat bow and rolled his sleeves up again, revealing his sinewy forearms. It was something you had always taken note of: he was far more well-built than you would’ve expected of an ordinary citizen. It was closer to the lithe musculature of the higher-ranked soldiers, but you had never come up with a satisfactory explanation for why he was like that.

“We had a good time,” he said shortly. “Am I serving or washing this time?”

“That is great to hear,” Mushi said. “I told you you would! And I think they want you serving tonight.”

He said something under his breath that you could not quite catch, but then he nodded, ducking beneath the counter to produce a tray. And though it meant that you would be late to the lighting of the fountain lamps, where you might meet the Blue Spirit, you found yourself lingering, trying to squeeze out every bit of time you could spend with Lee until you had to go for good.

You weren’t sure why you wanted to. It was a realization you were on the brink of arriving at, but you hadn’t quite reached yet. It just remained that that was how it was, that you preferred arguing with him to speaking fondly with anyone else, that you’d rather sit in silence with him than have an avid discussion with another person.

“Hey,” Lee said, pausing before you with the empty tray in his hands. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

“What a turn of events,” you said. “The very boy who tried to ban me from the shop is now inviting me back.”

“And the very girl who was once illiterate is now telling stories of her own,” he said with a wry half-grin. “Things change.”

The door slammed open, almost bursting off of its hinges, and you all but leapt out of your skin as a boy brandished a pair of hooked swords at you and Lee, a piece of grass sticking out of his mouth, incongruous with the rest of his regalia.

“That’s enough!” he shouted. “I’ve had enough of all of you! Since no one believes me, I’ll prove it myself!”

“What are you talking about?” one of the low-level militia members who frequented the shop said. “You have about ten seconds to drop those swords, boy.”

“That boy and the old man are Firebenders!” the boy shouted. “Judging by the girl’s closeness to them, she’s in on it, too! I bet she’s a Firebender as well!”

You thought it was ironic that he was accusing his own kingdom’s princess of being from another nation, but considering no one knew who you were, you could not share the humor you derived from the ridiculous declaration. Glancing at Lee, you saw that his mouth had set into a firm line.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about! You must be confused,” Mushi said.

“I saw you warming tea!” the boy said. Almost collectively, everyone in the shop rolled their eyes.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, speaking for the entire crowd when you did so. “He’s a tea-maker. They do tend to do that.”

“That’s not the point! How about this?” he said, jabbing his swords at the poor, defenseless Mushi, who backed away in concern. “I’ll just make you Firebend! If you do it in front of everyone, then there’s no way it can be denied any longer!”

As the boy rushed towards you, Mushi, and Lee, the militia man stood in your defense. Before he could do anything, though, Lee was taking the swords of the man’s back and pointing them at the boy.

“If it’s a show you want, then it’s a show you’ll get,” he said. You gasped as the two of them began to battle. Mushi took you by the arm, pulling you out of the way as Lee and the boy leapt atop the tables, slashing at one another with blows that were not meant to solely maim.

“What is happening?” you said as the clash made its way outside. “Since when can Lee use broadswords?”

“He’s a boy of many talents!” Mushi said as you followed the crowd outside. You hid behind him, peeping over his shoulder and clutching the back of his shirt when Lee sacrificed one of his swords so that the other boy would lose one of his.

“Will he be alright?” you said. You couldn’t understand the extent of your nerves, only that you were nervous. You didn’t want Lee to die, of course, but that was a natural reaction which any person might have. What was strange was that every time the boy’s hook whistled near Lee’s face, every time its wicked tip nearly caught on Lee’s arm, your heart leapt into your throat.

“He’s skilled, but this poor boy is confused. Someone, please help him!” Mushi said. “Oh, thank goodness.”

You weren’t sure why he was so relieved, but then you saw those familiar uniforms and squeaked before crouching behind Mushi. It was two Dai Li agents, come to take the other boy away — two Dai Li agents who, if they had turned their heads even a moment earlier, would’ve seen you and known that you had escaped the palace right under Long Feng’s nose.

“Are they gone?” you said as the crowd began to disperse. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yes, it’s all clear,” Mushi said. You looked around his legs, but he seemed to be telling the truth, so, straightening, you brushed yourself off.

“Thank Quynh,” you said with a shudder. “That was so frightening. Lee, are you fine?”

“It was nothing,” Lee said, wiping the sweat from his brow as he handed the militia man his swords back. His expression was still dark as he took off his apron and tossed it at his uncle. “I’m taking the rest of the day off, uncle.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you said, reaching out and placing your hand on his shoulder to stop him before he could stalk back into the tea shop. He whirled around, and you preemptively cringed back, already feeling sorry for asking, but it was too late.

“I said I’m fine!” he said. Upon noticing how you had already shrank away, though, his eyes widened. “Just…it’s fine. You should go, Y/N.”

“Right,” you said. “I’ll, um, see you around.”

He nodded, and then, before Mushi could convince you otherwise, before anyone could tell you to stop, you were running towards the fountain, the only place where you might find some solace, even if said solace had not come in so long.

Finding that familiar bench, you collapsed atop it, the stress of everything compounding until you were close to tears. What if Lee had really been injured? What if the Dai Li had not come in time and the boy had bested him? What if he ended up in the same state as some of the people you had seen in the Lower Ring? If he lost his arm or his leg, if another scar was sliced into his face, then what?

You had not been crying for very long when there were those same footsteps in front of you, the soft, light ones that you had all but memorized from how frequently you imagined them. Though you did not take your hands away from your face, you opened your fingers, peering through watery eyes at the figure squatting before you.

He tapped your wrists, and you let him pull your hands down, even though you were more than a little embarrassed to be found in such a state by the Blue Spirit, who always seemed so collected. Using your neckline to blot away your tears, you ignored your rational mind’s warning and threw your arms around his shoulders, resting your face against the crook of his neck.

“Things are so terrible, Blue Spirit,” you said, holding onto him as if he were an anchor. He was hesitant in reciprocating, but eventually, his own arms settled around your waist, keeping you in place if not pulling you closer. “My — my friend, have I told you about him? My friend, his name is Lee…I’d never say it to his face, but he’s someone I really admire. He’s so certain of himself and his opinions, and he’s not like Kuei or the servants at all — he’s really very witty, he can actually keep up with me and argue his own points when we speak instead of constantly bowing to my whims or dismissing them in turn! He’s my friend, my only friend, except you, but today he was attacked. Attacked! In my own city, he was attacked!”

The Blue Spirit patted you on the back. It was a little too rough to really be considered comforting, but you understand the intention and found that the effect was not lessened despite his ineptitude.

“I was so worried he might’ve been hurt,” you said. “What would have I done then? Who would I have if not him? You might not believe it, or maybe you might find it depressing, but I’ve really grown attached to him in the short time we’ve known one another. Besides you, he’s the only person who’s treated me normally, without reverence. I’m not her royal highness the princess when I’m with him. I’m just the frustrating Y/N who likes books and distracts him from his work.”

The Blue Spirit pulled away and shook his head at you. You laughed, though it was a thin, brittle sound.

“You don’t know the half of it,” you said. “It’s a wonder he gets anything done at all when I’m there. A testament to his character, maybe. Anyways, I think I’ve upset him.”

The Blue Spirit shook his head once more, but you could only stroke the cheek of his cool mask.

“Thank you for that, but I really have. It’s alright; I will apologize to him tomorrow. I was in the wrong for bothering him when he had been in such peril only seconds previously,” you said. “I’m sorry to you, as well, for burdening you with my troubles. It’s only that I hadn’t realized the truth of Ba Sing Se until now. I was told that the city was more dangerous than I expected before I came here, but until I experienced it myself, I didn’t quite appreciate what it entailed.”

The Blue Spirit nodded, using his gloved hand to swipe away the tear tracks which had dried on your face. You caught his hand and squeezed it.

“I want to show you something,” you said. “It’s a secret that I haven’t told anyone else in all my years of living, but since you’ve saved me twice already, I think that it’s alright if you know.”

He cocked his head as you trotted over to the fountain, fishing around in the water, pulling out one of the little glass lanterns that floated along the surface in the night, when the turtleducks had gone away to wherever they slept. Blowing out the candle, you smashed it against the ground, careful not to cut yourself on the twinkling shards.

“You see, the reason why I’ve been kept in the palace is because I’m a nonbender like my brother, like my father, like most of my family, in fact. It’s because I’m defenseless — or at least, because I’m thought to be,” you said. “But it’s not entirely like that. Er, the second thing is true, sadly. I am defenseless, or nearly so, but as for the rest of it…”

Gathering the pieces of glass in your palm, you concentrated on them, or, specifically, the tiny particles of earth which they were made of. It was not a feat of strength but of precision, and though you held no claim to the former, the latter was something you could proudly call yours.

Shielded by the Blue Spirit’s body on one side and the fountain on the other, the jagged edges of the glass smoothed and curled on your palm, melding together until they formed the shape you wanted them to: a sparkling lily, which you presented to the man.

“That’s the extent of it, I’m afraid,” you said as he held it up to the firelight. “Glass flowers and other such sculptures. I’m not particularly strong, you see, or if I am, then I’ve never been able to cultivate that strength. Bending exercises, repeated forms…I could not practice things like that for fear of what would become of Kuei if I did.”

He was obviously confused; you did not blame him. It was a confusing statement without the context behind it, so, staring at the rushing waters of the fountain, you began to explain.

“I was fairly young when I discovered that I could Earthbend,” you said. “I ran to tell my brother, but on the way there, I overheard a pair of his advisors saying that if I turned out to be an Earthbender, they’d kill my brother so I could take the throne. That was something I could not allow — he is my brother, you know. My only family. I could not let him die, too, so I swore off bending forever.

“I was not entirely successful. Bending is something that those of us who have it must perform frequently in order to be fulfilled, so my compromise was making things like that flower. Little artworks, which were innocuous enough that no one was ever suspicious as to their true origin. I didn’t have a traditional teacher, but Quynh — yes, the bear spirit, the patron of the Earth Kingdom, the great mother, that Quynh. I’m the princess, aren’t I? It only makes sense that she guided me. Anyways, she taught me that, if I could not train my power, then I had to refine my senses, so that I was sufficiently challenged without making my prowess obvious.

“At first, I only bent crystals, which are harder than pure earth but easier than glass to work with. Eventually, though, I grew bored of making small pieces of jewelry for Quynh, no matter how lovely she looked draped in diamonds and rubies. After that, I graduated to glass, and that’s what I do when I’m bored of reading and studying — I practice.

“I suppose you could call me the world’s only Glassbender,” you finished. “Not the first, but the only remaining, as Quynh was the only remaining bear. It’s not a very practical element, but it’s not like I’ll ever need to use it for anything but aesthetics, so for my own purposes, it’s suitable.”

The Blue Spirit admired the glass lily, and you laughed as he turned it over in his hands — a real laugh this time, not a despairing one. He was like a child, filled with such delight at the simple toy you had fashioned. For a while, he played with it, tracing each edge and crevice with his slender fingers, caressing each individual petal, and then finally, reluctantly, he offered it back to you.

“No, it’s a gift,” you said. “You can keep it. It’s not difficult for me to make more, and no matter how pretty it is, it’s really only glass. It’s not in rare supply by any means.”

He did not think twice, carefully tucking the flower away in the folds of his clothing. You smiled at him before raising your finger to your lips.

“It’s a secret, remember? No one can know I’m an Earthbender. No one can realize the truth, lest they depose Kuei and install me in his place,” you said.

The Blue Spirit offered you his hand, and for a moment you stared at it unsurely. It was a strange form of agreement, but then you understood — it was not his hand he was offering but his pinky finger. You interlocked your own with it, so that the deal was made, the secret sworn, and then you let go.

“Imagine how the civilians would laugh,” you said, sitting on the marble edge of the fountain and dipping your fingers in the water. “If they knew the truth. That name they call me is more apt than they realize, isn’t it? The Glass Princess. I really am one.”

He sat beside you, though he did not dip his own hand into the water. He only observed you, and though it might’ve been intense, uncomfortable, awkward, were it anyone else, it felt reasonable with him. Like that was what he was meant to be doing.

“Can I see your hand?” you said. He gave it to you readily, and you cradled it in yours, arranging it so that the palm was facing upwards, before pausing. “Is it alright if I take the glove off?”

You waited. For a moment, the night was utterly still as he thought about the request, and in that time, you came to notice things about the world which you had thus far been blind to.

The precise shade of his mask, which was a deep blue like sapphire-paint. It was something that you could never erase from your mind, the visage of your savior, the color which had stood between you and your death — but it was also the color that had unmasked the truth of your city to you. If it were not for the Blue Spirit, wouldn’t you still live in that same ignorance? You could not yet say you understood anything, but now you knew that there was something there which needed to be understood in the first place. Before, you were not even aware of that much.

The exact scent clinging to him, which was the delicate fragrance of the honey that some used as sweetener in place of sugar. It was not overwhelming nor heady; it was a soft, warm aroma, as gentle and inviting as candlelight.

The shushing rhythm of the fountain in the background, which was melodic in its sameness. It was another one of those sounds, the type that easily faded away when it was not on your mind but which was omnipotent when you paid attention. The steady flow of the water lulled you into another state — not sleep, because you could not sleep when you were so close to the Blue Spirit, but the opposite, a heightened awareness of both yourself and of him.

That was why time passed both agonizingly slowly and yet dizzyingly quickly, up until the moment that he nodded in agreement and whatever trance you had been in was broken.

Anticipation rushed through you as you took your free hand, the one not supporting his, and tugged on the end of the glove. It came off with a swift motion, and for the first time, there was the sensation of your skin touching his own.

“They say you can tell someone’s future by these marks,” you said, dancing your fingers along the creases of his palm. “It’s an ancient art. Very esoteric. I never learned much about it, but now, I wish I had.”

You wished you could read his future, untangle those winding ways into something comprehensible. The roadmap of the Blue Spirit’s life. You wished you could read it, could know if that destiny was one that included you in its course, but you did not say anything along those lines. You didn’t know what that desire meant yourself, and you didn’t want to frighten him, either, in case it sounded like something it was not.

Though his hands were surprisingly soft, there were calluses formed in the places where he gripped his swords. They were incredibly warm, too, though it was in a pacifying way, not with the sickly sense of fever. They were the hands of a warrior, but also the hands of vanity, and it relieved you to see that even the perfect, infallible Blue Spirit was prone to this fault.

“If only I were more like you,” you said. “Ba Sing Se is in such a state of disrepair, and I can do nothing but offer coins to those I come across, in the hopes that I might alleviate their personal struggles. That’s not hardly enough, though. For every one person I can help, tens of others do not get the same chance. Tens of others continue to suffer from a problem that I cannot identify. What princess does not even know why her subjects are in such pain? What princess can do so little about it?”

The love for your kingdom or the love for your brother? If you were the queen, would things be any different? Would Ba Sing Se be in a better position, or would it all be the same? Well, it was a moot point now. You were not an Earthbender in any way that mattered. The advisors had longed to instate you so that you could remind the world of the power of Shan’s line, but as it was, you would only make a mockery of your famed ancestor. The man who had established the entire Earth Kingdom, left with a great-to-the-nth-degree granddaughter who could only bend glass. That was his lineage. That was his legacy.

“My forefathers must be so ashamed of me,” you said. “What have I ever done with my life? What is there that I can still do? I am the Glass Princess, and that’s all I will be remembered as. King Kuei’s sister who would’ve watched Ba Sing Se fall if it meant she could keep her pretty jewels and fancy dresses.”

Taking another lantern, removing its candle, you twisted the glass into a miniature replica of the Earth Palace. It was meticulous and perfect; such was the training Quynh had given you, after all. Form over function. Accuracy over mass. Mental fortitude over physical fortification.

“That’s where I am,” you said, tapping the minuscule window. “All of the time, unless I am with you or in the tea shop. That’s the extent of my world.”

Two finger lengths long. That was your existence in summary. You put the Blue Spirit’s glove back on and gave him the model of the palace.

“In case you ever visit,” you said. “So you don’t get lost. Come see me if you do, won’t you?”

He didn’t offer you his pinky this time, but you figured that when he nodded his head in acceptance, he still meant it as a promise.

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gatorlovebot · 8 months

Text

continuation of this blurb here. also important to read this blurb. read the rest of my king!simon blurbs here.

you needed an escape, a moment of reprieve from all the political talk. one of the downsides of accompanying simon everywhere was that you had to sit in on every single one of his boring meetings with his advisors and court members. land negotiations, peace treaties, civil disputes, blah, blah, blah. you didn’t understand most of it, words going in one ear and out the other. you needed just a moment outside of this suffocating room.

it’s almost as if the universe was listening to you, or maybe it was just simon wanting to put you out of your suffering for a moment. he nudged his empty tea cup towards you and you jumped at the opportunity to leave. you excuse yourself quietly and gingerly walk down the corridors to the kitchen, taking your time.

you go through the motions of making simon’s tea just as he likes it, something that had become muscle memory to you years ago. you rub at your shoulders as you let the tea bag steep, soothing out tension from sitting in an uncomfortable chair for hours. simon would be wanting lunch soon, the meeting wouldn’t go on for much longer, you tried to convince yourself as you made the walk back to the grand hall.

as you made your way to the door, you spotted simon’s new secretary leaving the room. when he spotted you approaching, a timid smile appeared across his lips. “i was hoping to catch you.”

you two hadn’t really gotten off on the right foot, him making a witless joke about your relationship to simon right in front of you. but you didn’t have the energy to continue to be angry at him, you were still reeling from the visit by the southern royals, who had only left a few days prior. you had all these complicated feelings towards simon and that fucking princess, you hadn’t really had time to think or care about simon’s new secretary.

you did have to admit though, that despite his poor attempt at a joke, he was doing a much better job than simon’s previous secretary. the duties of a secretary were quite simple and mostly involved writing, not talking. so far, during the meeting, he had kept his few comments quick and concise. unlike simon’s former secretary, who could ramble on and on until someone stopped him.

you plastered on a pleasant and polite smile, “and what can i do for you, secretary?”

“just a moment of your time, perhaps,” you nodded for him to continue, “i ,again, just wanted to apologize for my derogatory comment when we first met. i had let an ignorant assumption of you cloud my judgment and for that i’m very sorry.”

you had to admit that he seemed genuine and that it may do you a bit of good to accept the apology so as to create a pleasant working relationship between the two of you. the secretary had been brought on to staff right before the arrival of the southern king, so you two had not worked as closely because of the visit. but now with the southern royals gone you and the secretary would be consulting about simon’s affairs regularly.

“i appreciate your apology, sir, it means a lot for you to admit your poor judgment.” you replied, genuinely. it did mean a lot to you, having to endure years and years of rumors spread around the castle about you without anyone taking into consideration you or your feelings. it was refreshing to hear someone state so clearly that they were wrong about you.

all he did was give you a subtle nod, moving out of the way of the doors before responding, “i’m looking forward to working more closely with you, my dear.” and with that he walked past you down the corridor.

you made your way back into the room, back into your chair to the right of simon. you quietly placed the tea cup in front of him and as he reached for it your fingers touched for just a moment. it was your first moment of physical contact with him since he had taken out the princess. you pulled your hand back abruptly and tried to casually sit back down.

“thank you, love.” simon remarked, taking a sip.

the meeting hadn’t gone that much longer, simon wrapping everything up with a simple declaration that he was craving lunch. as you gathered your’s and his things you were again approached by the secretary.

his voice was quiet, “another moment of your time, my dear?”

you noticed the documents in his hand, not too excited to talk business after hours of mind numbing discussion over the king’s affairs. before you could respond you heard simon’s booming voice from the door.

“ay, it’s lunch time, love.” love. you wanted to roll your eyes at him. he was standing in the threshold of the room, impatiently waiting for you to join him so you could accompany him to lunch. he didn’t even wait for you to gather your things and yet he’s standing there demanding you join him?

“oh, your majesty, i was just hoping to go over the itinerary for your upcoming trip with her.” the secretary explained, gesturing to the documents in his hand as explanation.

simon looked perturbed, his brows furrowed. you couldn’t help but find it humorous, how easily he was irritated by someone pushing back against his wishes even just a little bit.

“just small details, your highness, it will just take a few minutes. i promise she’ll be joining you soon.” the secretary reassured and you didn’t think it would work on simon. he hasn’t wanted you out of his sight as of late, much to your dismay.

simon gave you a long, hard look before finally shrugging his shoulders. “don’t complain to me when your food is cold.” and with that he turns down the corridor.

and this is how he’s been for the past few days, hot and cold. one minute he’s complimenting you and the next he’s being a right prick. you roll your eyes and try to relax the tension out of your shoulders. “sorry for him.” you don’t know why you’re apologizing on simon’s behalf, somewhat of a reflex at this point when simon is in one of his moods.

“no need for apologies, dear.” he assures you with a charming smile. shuffles the papers in his hands and considers them for a moment before setting them back down on the table. “i must admit my intentions are not to go over some itinerary with you.”

your brows furrow in confusion, what else could he possibly need from you then?

“i wanted to get you alone to ask you something,” he reveals. the rest of the room had cleared out, the rest of simon’s men either going to lunch or other meetings. if it was any of simon’s other men you might have been nervous to be left alone, but you wanted to give simon’s new secretary a chance. “you take care of the king, and you do it very well, but who takes care of you?”

you don’t even understand the question at first, who takes care of you? what’s there to take care of? “myself, i’d suppose.” you finally settle on.

“so, there’s no one that picks out your clothes in the morning? or washes your hair at night?” of course not, you want to say but you’re so unsure of the situation now that you just shake your head. “so,” he lowers his voice, deep. “even at night there’s no one in your bed to take care of you?”

it’s an obvious come on, something that doesn’t happen very often to you but when it does you usually feel an awful pit in your stomach afterwards. but, right now you don’t feel dread or disgust. but his dark eyes and sultry voice are definitely making you feel something. you barely whisper out a, “no” at his question, almost stunned at the situation you’ve found yourself in.

he moves, minutely, to stand in front of you, your back coming into contact with the edge of the table behind you. he reaches up and touches his fingertips along your dress, tracing your hips, a whisper of a touch. “would you like there to be someone to take care of you, dear?”

you desperately want to say yes, want to fall easily into your own desires. you’d never felt wanted before and you didn’t want this overwhelming feeling of want to go away. but then your mind betrayed you and made you think of the one reason why you had never allowed yourself to be propositioned in the past: simon. there was a cruel part of you that wanted, no needed, to be loyal to your king. a part that would never understand that you could never have him. in this moment you hated that part, but ultimately you listened to it.

you also had to think about the potential of your little rendezvous with the secretary getting around the castle, getting back to simon. you couldn’t even begin to imagine how that would change your relationship. “i need you to understand that i would, i would like that,” you stressed to him, “but i can’t.”

his face falls and so do his hands from your body. he takes a small step back, making some distance between the two of you. he takes a long look at your face, “i understand completely.” he affirms and with that you feel even worse. it would have been easier if he was an asshole about it, then you could get upset with and storm off. but now you were just left to look at the disappointment he was trying to hide from his face.

“i’m sorry-” you begin but he raises a hand, stopping you.

“no, no, no,” he tuts, “nothing to be sorry for, you have your reasons and i accept them.” he takes one of your hands, just long enough to give it a gentle squeeze, “the offer still stands, don’t hesitate to call for me.”

maybe you would. maybe at some point you would gather up the courage to finally do something for yourself for once and not stress yourself out over the potential consequences. you gave him a gracious smile before making your way out the doors again, knowing that simon would be getting rather impatient.

“i thought you said my food would be cold by the time i got here.” you stated flatly as the maid laid out a hot try of food in front of you after you sat down at the dining table, next to simon. he was already halfway through his meal and barely paid you any mind when you finally made your way to the table, instead reading over some documents. his little mood swings were getting to you.

“i said not to complain if your food was cold," he corrected, not taking his eyes off the document in hand, “not that it would be cold.”

you decide not to bring up the fact that he had to command one of the maids to wait until you had arrived to serve you, not wanting to start a petty little argument about how he actually cared. instead you just dug into your meal, feeling famished after a long morning. you wouldn’t describe the silence between you two as being comfortable, as it usually was, but you didn’t allow it to get to you. sitting up from your chair to reach across the table to grab the salt, opting to do it yourself instead of asking simon for help.

the silent tension of the room is cut by the unexpected arrival of simon’s secretary. your cheeks burn at his presence, your mind playing his words over again from just a few moments ago.

“your royal highness, i’m so sorry to interrupt,” he declared, making his way over to the dining table where you still stood. “but i just need your signature on one of these documents from earlier before i take it down to the post.”

he stands between you and simon, handing the document over to simon along with a fountain pen. it only took simon a moment to scrawl his signature along the parchment, before he was passing the paper and pen back to the secretary with only a grunt in response. “thank you for your time, much appreciated, your highness.” he bows his head, something that he does ironically now, and as he passes you to leave, his hand momentarily caresses your waist.

just a small touch, but somehow simon notices it. “ay,” he barks, “no need to touch the fucking lady.”

the secretary’s eyes widened in shock before stuttering out an apology, “you’re right, your majesty, so sorry to the both of you.” and with that he makes a quick exit from the dining room.

you huff before sitting again, cutting simon an incredulous look. “you didn’t have to bite the man’s head off, your highness.” you scolded.

his eyes furrow in indignation, “oh, what, should i just let all my men touch on you like that?”

“no, but you don’t-”

he’s quick to interrupt you, “well, i already know you let the guard touch up on you.”

you jaw drops in shock at his accusation. you knew that he had spotted you and the guard arm and arm when you two were accompanying him and the princess, but for him to imply that there was more to it? you were shocked, you were hurt. “it wasn’t like that and you know it.” you snipe back, letting your devastation at his words manifest in disdain. “and besides, why do you even care? shouldn’t you be more worried about your little princess?”

you knew the words are too revealing the moment they leave your mouth, but you’re too incensed to even care. why was he being so cruel? why was he pushing you like this? you never liked to fight with him because he could be so mean.

“oh, the princess? well, i said ‘fuck you’ to that princess the day she said that if i were to ever wed her i would have to cut you loss.” he snarls before sinking back into his chair with a frustrated huff.

your anger deflates at his confession. earlier that day, during the meeting, he had claimed that a courtship between him and the princess would not be possible, but he never gave a reason. you had never imagined that reason being you. it wasn’t a confession of his feelings for you, but it was an allusion to them.

you both are quiet for a long moment, bodies sagging as the adrenaline from the sudden fight drains out of you two. you awkwardly push around food on your plate, suddenly not hungry anymore, as you try to come up with words to say to him.

“after that little display, i put that guard on night duty.” simon reveals quietly, out of nowhere, eyes still on his plate.

you had made a mental note, the day after the garden walk, that simon’s guard had been replaced with one that you hadn’t known as well. it was frustrating, to say the least. the new guard wasn’t as talkative, took his job too seriously. he wasn’t any kind of reprieve from having to follow around simon and the princess for days. but the petty move wasn’t surprising, simon had all the power and he liked to use it as he pleased.

“why?” you questioned, curious as to what kind of answer he’d give you.

his dark eyes met yours, face open and honest as he reaches across the table to grab one of your hands. his grip is loose, you could easily pull your hand away, but you can’t find it in yourself too. his hands are warm, fingertips calloused against your soft skin, you can’t tell if he’s stalling. he finally opens his mouth, “when it comes to you, i don’t know how to stop being a jealous prick.”

his words don’t bring you as much comfort as you were hoping, jealousy doesn’t mean love. “simon,” you take a moment to collect yourself when your voice begins to waver. “you can’t be jealous and controlling of someone who you won’t even claim as yours.”

shock flashes across his face, seemingly not prepared for you to say something like that. you wiggle your hand from out of his grasp before standing up from the table. “you don’t have anything else planned today besides dinner later tonight, i think it might be for the best if we spent the time between now and then apart.” you declare, holding your ground.

he chuckles, hollowly, “distance isn't the answer to our problem, love.”

“you’re right, but the only one who can answer our problem is you, your highness.” you had devoted yourself to simon years ago, and now it was his turn to decide if he was devoted to you.

#gator.writing #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #ghost headcanons #ghost mw2 #king simon #not entirely happy with this one. kind of got lost in the end of it lol

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flowerandblood · 7 months

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The Vanity and Variability (5)

[ Jane Austen • Aemond x Baratheon • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, masturbation, sexual tension, angst, mention of trauma, character death ]

[ description: Despite coming from a family with royal blood, Aemond is forced because of his brother’s debts to choose one of the daughters of the famously wealthy general, Borros Baratheon, as his wife to save his family from bankruptcy. When he arrives to make his choice he is distraught and discouraged, made all the more so by watching from the sidelines his youngest daughter, who seems more intrigued by his dog than her possible future husband. Slow burn, sexual tension, regency and Jane Austen prose vibe, vain, self-righteous Aemond. ]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in regency times (1805-1815). The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Aemond & Miss Baratheon & Vhagar Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

It seemed to him that it had all been a dream. The fact that she'd found out about his affair with Alys, which had gone on for years in London, his long, desperate letter that he'd cried over while writing it. That she had come to him, that she had said she wanted to stay with him.

That he had touched her.

He could still hear her sweet, innocent moans of surprise in his head, smell her scent in his nostrils, taste her on his lips after he placed loud, greedy kisses on her neck. He could feel her juices between his fingers, how hot she was, how intensely she responded to his every motion, exploring her body with him, her path to pleasure.

He felt like he was going to explode with arousal, that he was simply going to cum from just touching her and watching the reaction of her sweet body.

When she finally came, when he felt how much moisture flowed from inside her straight onto his fingers with the residual strength of his will, he refrained from throwing himself at her and sliding inside her, feeling how wet and hot she was inside from his treatments, how much she craved him.

When she looked at him with that hazy, beautiful gaze full of heat and affection he kissed her so shamelessly that he was surprised at himself.

And then she stood up, terrified, without letting him get a word in edgewise, announced that they could no longer be friends and ran out of his room with tears in her eyes.

He sat still for a few minutes, staring blankly in front of him, not knowing what to do. Even though he was ashamed, even though he knew he should be thinking about something else right now, about how he would convince her father to give her to him, his hand headed under the material of his trousers.

He groaned loudly as he squeezed his length in his hand, imagining that he had done what he desired, that he had slipped deep inside her, that she was lying beneath him and looking up at him with that same wonderful, hot gaze, that she was moaning just as innocently, heated with pleasure and exertion.

He began to massage himself with quick, aggressive movements, panting hard, thinking of slipping his tongue between her lips again, of giving her everything she wanted.

He came so hard that he pressed his face against his pillow, trying to drown out the sounds coming from his throat, his own semen spilling down his fingers onto the sheets beneath him. He was panting loudly in elation and thought with surprise mixed with despair that he had never before come as hard with Alys as he did now, thinking of his friend.

The thought that he subconsciously wanted her so much surprised and embarrassed him.

He thought he had to make it all right and realised that even if they had not done that he would still have chosen her.

His friend.

He realised this on one of their walks into town, during which they were accompanied by Mr Baratheon himself, longing for some fresh air. They were walking together at the front, and he was surprised when he began to speak suddenly of his late wife.

"When I met her, she was not fond of me. She thought I was immature and incapable of being a serious man. She was right. All I thought about was women, cards, alcohol and having fun with my friends without caring what other people thought of me. I had a huge fortune, but she still didn't want me. She said her husband could not be like a stranger to her, but had to be her friend. I didn't understand it at the time, but now I know that when I really started to listen to her and she saw how valuable she was to me, I myself started to open up to her. During one walk I told her about my whole life and she just listened to me. I wept like a child in front of her and thought I had completely lost respect in her eyes, but the following day she sent me a letter saying that she would marry me. It was the most beautiful day of my life." He said with his voice trembling at the last sentence, he could see from the corner of his eye that his eyes had reddened and he swallowed with difficulty as he tried to continue speaking, folding his hands behind him.

"I tell you this because I can't imagine a more unbearable thing than a wife I wouldn't even like. You must like your future wife, moreover, you should be a devoted friend to her, and she should reciprocate. Life itself is too difficult to share it with someone you don't even like." He finished his statement and grunted, turning towards Royce, who asked him something loudly from a distance, walking by his youngest sister's side.

Aemond turned towards them, and when his gaze met hers she smiled broadly and warmly, as she had always done in recent days when they ran into each other. He swallowed loudly, turning his face towards the road, feeling a strange warmth spread through his body, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

Life itself is too difficult to share with someone you don't even like.

He thought, swallowing hard, that he could have pretended to go on wondering who he would choose, which of his daughters he liked most, but he knew he had made his choice the moment he danced with her at the ball.

Some sort of understanding had developed between them, he felt relaxed in her company, even when they discussed her approach was full of openness and understanding, she never squeezed anything out of him by force, she never asked him which of her sisters he intended to choose.

He realised, however, that he had been waiting for what had happened to him when he saw Alys, for that thought that he must possess her and have her, that he would feel a sudden flame which, however, was extinguished as quickly as it had appeared.

When he thought of the youngest Miss Baratheon a small candle flame came to his mind, surrounding itself with the care of his hand as he walked down a dark corridor. Its flame did not scald, but gave a sense of security and solace.

He thought embarrassedly that he would propose to her as soon as he had sorted it all in his head and figured out how he should present his feelings to her so as not to frighten her.

So that she would agree.

However, afterwards it seemed to him that his worst possible nightmare had come true and Colonel Strong had completely destroyed his image in her eyes. It wasn't until she shouted the truth in his face about who he was that he realised in the back of his mind what he had actually done, and thought with shame that it made him want to cry.

He had spent years of his life having an affair with a woman who didn't really mean anything to him just so he could feel desired by someone.

He knew that she would never want him again, but what overwhelmed him the most was the thought that she would avoid him again, that she would not forgive him this time.

He wept as he wrote his letter to her, recognising at last that if he wanted to share his feelings with anyone, it was with her, his friend. So he wrote her everything, without bluntness or hiding, admitting everything with shame and humility, hoping that she would give him a chance and at least read his explanation.

As he slipped the letter under her door he locked himself in his room, sitting down at his secretary's desk and hid his face in his hands, feeling empty and tired.

He wasn't sure he had ever cared so much about anyone's good opinion, and thought with painful amusement that he had fought all his life for attention and a good word from his father and grandfather, only to suffer perpetual humiliation from them.

She would never humiliate him.

She was warm, kind and full of joy, always finding an explanation or solution to problems that seemed to him to be lost in advance.

However, he thought nothing could be done this time and shuddered when he heard a quiet knock on his door.

Then all he could hear was the rapid pounding of his heart, and as he lay down next to her on the bed he swallowed loudly, clenching his eyes shut, keeping his distance from her just enough so that she couldn't feel his throbbing, hard erection on her.

He was embarrassed and surprised at how much he desired her.

After she left he practically didn't sleep through the night, twisting and fidgeting, thinking about what he wanted to say to her. He felt that he should ask her opinion first, rather than going directly to her father, considering in fact her decision as the most important one, without which he had no right to do anything more.

He had been ready to go down to breakfast since early morning, and when he heard the sound of the door opening he literally ran out of his room, eager to see which of the sisters had come out.

He headed for the dining room, but only came across servants preparing the table for the meal, laying out clean plates and cutlery. He heard the loud slamming of the front door and walked out quickly, spotting her silhouette walking ahead.

"Miss Baratheon." He called out after her. She stopped and turned over her shoulder, pale and terrified, her eyes wide.

He thought with pain that she regretted what they had done and he needed to make amends quickly.

He approached her breathing loudly through his mouth, folding his hands behind him, wanting to hide how much they were shaking.

"I'd like to take a moment with you, if you'll allow me." He said in a slightly trembling, throaty voice, thinking with embarrassment that he was scared like a little child.

She looked at him with big eyes, breathing hard, terrified, not saying a word, so he continued.

"I realise that what has happened over the last few days, and last night, may reflect badly on me as a man and a gentleman, to say the least. I will also understand if you have a completely understandable grudge against me for not doing what I am doing now before I dared to touch you. However −"

"− Mr Targaryen −"

"− however, I wish with all my heart to rectify my mistake and humbly ask you to agree to become my wife." He choked out with difficulty on one exhale, feeling that if he stopped speaking he would not be able to gather his thoughts again.

He felt uncomfortable when her silence answered him, she swallowed loudly, looking at him with tears in her eyes.

"I am obliged and grateful for these words, sir, but I must refuse you." She said in a quiet, trembling voice, and he looked at her in disbelief, not knowing for a moment what to say.

What?

"Why?" He growled in a more aggressive tone than he would have liked, his jaw clenched in rage, in a sense of rejection, his heart pounding like mad. She turned her gaze away, looking everywhere but at him.

"I have no intention of becoming your wife because of your remorse, sir. All my life I would only think of you proposing to me by showing me favour, not affection." She said trying to sound dispassionate, biting her lower lip, struggling not to cry in front of him.

He stared at her with his mouth wide open, breathing loudly and shook his head, chuckling nervously under his breath.

"I'm afraid I'm not following you, Miss Baratheon. Will you explain to me why you visited my room, why you laid in my bed, if you did not desire to become my wife?" He hissed in frustration, but it was only when those words left his mouth that he heard how bad they sounded.

She threw him a sudden, surprised look full of pain, her lower lip trembled in disbelief, tears that she had tried so hard to hold back flowed down her face.

"I am sorry if I have confused you, sir, and given you false hope. I am entirely to blame and hope that God will one day forgive me for what I did last night. And now, with apologies, I would like to be left alone." She whispered in a voice washed out of emotion, from which shivers went through him, and then she turned and moved ahead along the dirt road, wiping her cheeks with her hands.

He stared at her dully, watching her walk away, his chest rising and falling in quick, anxious breaths.

He covered his face with his hand and wept helplessly, thinking only that he didn't mean what he said, that he simply hoped that she came to him because she reciprocated his feelings, because she desired what he did.

That his proposal would bring them both relief and make her not feel guilty about what had happened between them.

He returned to their mansion pale, not knowing what to do with himself, where to go, not completely anticipating this course of events.

Royce snapped him out of his reverie by saying that a letter had come for him, handing him an envelope, and he opened it without thinking, staring dully at the two sentences written with his grandfather's handwriting.

Your father is dead. Return to London immediately.

He felt as if the whole world had just collapsed on his head.

He informed Mr Baratheon immediately of what had happened and asked him to lend him his horse and send his belongings to London separately, wanting to be there as soon as possible, while asking them to look after Vhagar in his absence.

He thought that after what had happened he could not bear to stay here any longer.

He set off immediately, without waiting for her return, without saying goodbye to her.

He thought that she didn't want to see him anyway.

When he arrived he had to take a bath and change immediately, and then he joined his family, gathered in his father's bedroom, all of them sitting in mourning garments. His mother ran up to him and hugged him tightly, whispering in his ear that she was glad he was able to return so quickly.

His grandfather grunted, lifting his chin high so that everyone could hear what he was going to say.

"Now that we've all gathered, it's time for the reading of the deceased's will." He said and nodded to one of the lawyers, who was holding an envelope in his hand.

He slit it open in front of their eyes, they all looked at him in suspense, Rhaenyra sitting by her dead father's bed lifted her head, looking at the man with her lips tightened.

"I, Viserys Targaryen, in this document signed and sealed by me announce my last will,

I bequeath the Yorkshire estate and a quarter of my estate to my widow wife, who may do with part of her property as she sees fit. I bequeath the estates in Harnway and Dermore successively to my first-born son Aegon and to my second son, Aemond. My estate in London I pass to my eldest daughter, Rhaenyra, along with all the family possessions located there for generations. The rest of my estate is to be distributed fairly among all my children."

An uncomfortable, long silence fell, Aegon laughed aloud, burying his face in his hands, subconsciously knowing that this was what awaited him.

He was the first-born son, but their ancestral estate was to pass to their sister.

"The law states that ancestral estates can only pass to sons or be passed down the male line. We will challenge this will as illegitimate." Said Otto in an indifferent, impassive tone, Rhaenyra stood up, looking at him with rage and hatred.

"How dare you. For years you poisoned my father's mind and pushed me away from him. You can see that at the end of his life he understood who really loved him and who was just preying on him." She hissed, breathing heavily. He decided he didn't have the strength for it and walked out, leaving the loud arguments behind, heading to his room.

He sat on his bed, looking down at his hands and laughed out loud, shaking his head, leaning forward.

He had nothing.

His only inheritance was a country manor in Dermore, unvisited by anyone for years, overgrown with mould and damp for sure.

That's how much his sacrifice meant to his father.

He squeezed his eye shut, thinking about the morning, about what he had done, what he had said, and closed his face in his hands, wanting to disappear, to simply cease to exist.

Whatever hope he had gained in recent weeks, God seemed to laugh cruelly in his face.

It seemed to him that he was destroying everything valuable in his path.

His father's funeral was a grand event, attended by crowds of aristocracy from all over England at their family estate. He felt a squeeze in his pit and a kind of discomfort when, from among dozens of people, Countess Rivers emerged in front of him, smiling at him in the same catlike way, her eyes dark with desire, her gown completely black but revealing her full, shapely breasts.

She approached him, fanning herself, looking at him curiously.

"It has been a long time since we have seen each other, dear Mr Targaryen. You do not write back to my letters. Have the country daughters of Mr Baratheon taken your fancy?" She asked with amusement, revealing rows of her white teeth.

He knew that she was teasing him, that she was convinced that he was furious about having to travel there, about having to choose among them.

Only a few weeks ago he would have told her that he missed her and locked himself in a room with her, disregarding the fact that he should be mourning his father.

Now, however, when he looked at her he felt only pain.

She was so different from her.

There was no warmth in her gaze, only an expectation to entertain.

There was no openness and lightness in her demeanour to encourage confidences, discussion, trust, only some dark, feminine licentiousness, meant to tap into his physical senses, his subconscious desires.

For some reason he felt like crying at the thought.

He turned away without answering her, disappearing into the crowd of people, startling her completely.

He wanted to be left alone.

Only she could find words of consolation for him now.

She would know what to do, she would know what he would need, she would give him comfort and reassurance, her boundless understanding.

The next few days merged into one mass for him, he didn't know when the day was setting or when night was falling. He knew he should return to Chelsfield, but he had no desire to do so, knowing that the only woman he wanted to marry did not want him.

What was he to look for there?

During one of their dinners together a few days before Rhaenyra was to officially move into their estate with her family, Aegon said something from which he froze in horror.

"Hurry, brother. If you procrastinate like this, every one of Mr Baratheon's daughters will be engaged before you return." He said softly, slicing a piece of meat. Aemond lifted his surprised, concerned gaze to him, looking at him intensely.

"What are you talking about?" He asked cautiously, not wanting to reveal how terrified he was. Aegon smiled, seeing the hesitation on his face, deliberately extending his silence.

"Apparently Mr Strong's son asked one of them to marry him and was accepted." He said reluctantly, and he felt a tightening in his throat, his hand lying on the table in front of him involuntarily clenched into a fist.

"Which one?" He asked coolly, feeling that his breathing was laboured, that his whole body was trembling with uncertainty and fear of his answer. Aegon raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders, putting a bit of potatoes on his fork.

"How do I know, after all there are so many of them. Apparently one of the younger ones." He said dispassionately, lifting his eyes to see his reaction. He stared ahead with a blank gaze, trying to calm himself, then stood up and asked one of their servants to get his horse ready for him immediately.

He only arrived at Chelsfield in the morning, raspy and in complete disarray, entering their estate unannounced, guessing that they had just had breakfast.

Everyone got up at the sight of him, and he stood in the entrance, breathing loudly, some of his hair slipping out of its ribbon and he guessed that he looked inappropriate to say the least.

He didn't care, quickly finding her with his eyes, she was looking at him with her mouth wide open, all flushed, her eyes big and warm.

He wanted to ask if she did, if she said yes, but he didn't know how to do it, so they stood in an awkward silence that seemed to last an eternity.

Mr Baratheon, seeing this, grunted saying that they had not expected him so soon, offered his condolences and asked if the funeral ceremonies had gone off without a hitch.

"− yes −" He muttered, not looking at him however, just at her, in her gaze tenderness, compassion, concern, everything he needed, everything he wanted. "− yes, thank you −"

There was an awkward silence again, so he involuntarily licked his lower lip, strenuously thinking how to ask this so as not to betray himself.

"− it has come to my knowledge that one of your daughters will be getting married soon −" He said forcing himself to be calm, still looking at her, at her expression, her eyebrows arched in pain, as if she suddenly understood what he was asking.

He was asking if she was the one getting married.

He heard Floris giggle loudly, rising, showing him the small ring she had on her finger.

"Please see what I got from Colonel Strong. What excellent taste he has. My silly sister rejected his engagement, but I was smarter than that." She said and jumped up with a smile, flushed with happiness, as if this was the most joyous day of her life.

He looked quickly at Mr Baratheon's youngest daughter, her breasts rising and falling quickly in uneven breathing, her pink lips parted slightly, tears in her eyes.

He felt that he looked just like her.

He felt like crying with happiness, with relief, with joy.

She did not accept him.

Mr Baratheon suggested that, after such a long journey, he should join them at breakfast and then rest, and he nodded, suddenly relaxed and light, not quite hearing or seeing what was going on around him, nodding at Floris's words, her stories of how she imagined the whole ceremony, though his gaze kept escaping to her.

They looked at each other from opposite ends of the table far too often, drawing the attention of Royce, Mr Baratheon and Cassandra with it, but he didn't care.

As soon as breakfast was over he did not let the youngest Miss Baratheon leave the dining room, asking her straight away if she would agree to speak to him in private. She swallowed loudly and nodded, saying she had to put on her cloak.

He waited impatiently for her in the park behind their mansion and spotted her a moment later, walking towards him with an uncertain, quiet step. He felt his heart pounding hard, pleased to see her. She lifted her warm gaze to him at last, sadness and concern in her gaze.

"I have not had the opportunity to offer you my heartfelt condolences. I am so sorry." She said warmly, softly, sincerely, and he felt her words like the prick of a needle stuck in his heart. He sighed quietly, pressing his lips together, he felt like his gaze expressed everything.

Desire, affection, longing.

"Thank you, Miss Baratheon." He replied softly and they looked at each other in silence for a moment, embarrassed and uncertain.

"As I understand it, you have rejected Colonel Strong's engagement." He said lowly, lowering his gaze to his feet, swallowing loudly, wanting to hear it from her. He saw out of the corner of his eye a blush of embarrassment spread across her cheeks.

"Yes. It was probably the most miserable engagement I could have imagined." She mumbled, involuntarily smiling out of the corner of her mouth. He smiled too and snorted at her words.

"Worse than mine?" He hummed teasingly, and she lifted her gaze to him quickly, even redder, and snorted a quiet laugh, looking up at him affectionately.

"Please, sir, don't be hard on yourself. I didn't behave properly then either." She said softly, looking down at her hands, playing with her fingers, and he swallowed loudly.

"My father, in his will, deprived me of almost all my property, leaving me only a small country manor in Dermore. I wish to sell it and with those funds buy or rent an estate in this neighbourhood." He said calmly and she looked at him shocked, her lips parted in disbelief.

"You're not staying in London?" She asked in a trembling voice, and he hit the inside of his cheek with the tip of his tongue and chuckled under his breath.

"There's nothing waiting for me there. There's nothing there that I want. What would make me happy." He said quietly, looking at her, and she closed her mouth quickly, swallowing loudly, looking at him in a way that made him feel like throwing himself at her.

He smiled at the thought that flashed through his mind as he looked at her now, after only a few days of separation.

"I hope that this property will soon be filled with the laughter of our children." He said softly and she furrowed her eyebrows as if in pain, pressing her lips together, her eyes welled up with tears, her whole figure tensed in anxious breathing.

He approached her slowly feeling light, feeling confident, wonderful, for the first time in his life having the premonition that he knew what he was doing, that he knew what he wanted, that he knew what would make him happy.

He grasped her warm, tear-wet cheeks in his hands, and she didn't move away, her bottom lip trembling slightly. He ran his thumb over her soft skin and shuddered as she placed her trembling fingers on his, running them gently up and down.

"My sweet friend." He whispered, pressing his forehead against hers, and she smiled so warmly, so tenderly, that he didn't even know when their lips were pressed against each other in a soft, gentle, wet kiss.

He ran his nose over the tip of hers only to kiss her again, a sticky, loud click accompanied each movement of their lips. He felt her small, warm hands on his neck and cheeks and thought he could die now, fulfilled at last.

"Yes." She whispered to him between one sweet kiss and another, and he hummed softly at her words, involuntarily smiling. He fell deeper into her lips, knowing what she wanted to say, their hands clenched tightly on their skin.

She pulled away from him and embraced him, cuddling her cheek into his chest, and he embraced her immediately, one hand laying on her back, the other slipping into her long hair tied back with a blue ribbon, kissing the top of her head, taking in her wonderful scent.

"I need to speak to your father."

_____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

Text

malice of a pretty face | scaramouche (wanderer)

✮ tags ; adapted from genshin canon but not genshin canon, gn!reader, forced marriage but they ally together, role reversal, scaramouche is called bride mostly jokingly, physically smaller than reader, reader has a female concubine in their bed and kisses them / had sex w them, reader is a tyrant ruler type, age gap (scara is 20 ish and reader is like 28), opium usage, raiden shogun is scara's mother who sold him out, political affairs, handjobs + making out 18+

✮ wc ; 3.4k

✮ a/n ; what if i want to be the tyrant emperor for a change huh. what then. also scaramouche is called bride but gender and stuff is whatever in this universe.

some background, this is not genshin techincally. its like adapted to be a royalty au. reader is a recent ruler of their homeland. scaramouche is a raidens son. he didn't get a lot of choice in coming but he has no political power in his homeland

(this is a rewrite of a concept i posted a while ago but i cant find the ask where someone tells me to expand so hope this finds u anon

✮ synopsis ; your "bride" hails from inazuma and comes to you dressed in white, with eyes full of lightning.

A knock on your door snaps you out of your pointless thinking. Your close companion and Royal Advisor clears his throat before addressing you.

“Your bride has been prepared for you,”

“Come in.”

The brown door creaks as it opens, the gold embellishments on either side catching light. The hallway behind is empy but bright. Your advisor stands behind your esteemed guest with a look of mild exasperation. Subtle as it may be, it makes the corner of your lip quirk in amusement. At the door is your betrothed.

Your bride comes to you wrapped in white.

“I’ll leave you too it,” Says your advisor, code for please get along that has you nodding your head. You hum quietly, waving him away. He sighs as he shuts the door, leaving your guest standing at the door awkwardly.

As the rumors have said so many times over, the Raiden Shoguns only heir is strikingly beautiful. Pale thing he is, white as a porcelain doll and nearly half your size. Even in the lowlights of your bedroom, the blurriness of candlelight, you can see the sharpness of his eyes. A signature purple, the color of royalty and trademark of the Inazuman dynasty and bloodline.

For a peace offering, he reeks of defiance. Just standing there with his arms crossed, fists clenched and jaw tight. He looks like he wants to burn the entire palace to the ground where he stands. You’re sure if you picked him apart enough he’d tell you just that. Intel tells you he’s easy to provoke, and for a Prince of his nation - he’s quite the fighter too.

You aren’t sure how much he knows of this by now. Or if he knows that you’ve learned all sorts of things about him.

Most of all, he’s intriguing. Beautiful but prickly and poisonous. You’re captivated by how much he seethes. You tilt your head as your leg up, your back against the wall. You glance briefly at the concubine asleep in your bed, back exposed. Your robe is half-fallen over your shoulder, the bandaging on your chest and shoulder visible.

You take a long inhale of the pipe resting on your bed, lungs filling with opium before you push it. Another cloud of smoke fills the room, relief in your back as you exhale. You tilt your head at him.

“Will you stand there the whole time?” You ask placidly. It angers him even more for a reason you’re unable to discern.

“Why would I get near a belligerent tyrant like you?”

You chuckle. Despite himself, there’s a tinge of anxiety to his protesting. He’s young and on guard. You’re sure your reputation with the Royal Harem has served you no favors, so he must think you’re going to pounce on him.

You shake your head.

“I like to sedate my prey before I eat it. I won’t lay a hand on you.”

Surprised by your deduction, a flush draws on his features. You smile wispily, before another thought crosses your mind. His name dawns on you, Scaramouche you think it was.

“Ah, or is it this that’s troubling you?” You say, gesture vaguely to the naked person in your bed laying comfortably “Should I send her away before we speak?”

Your conversation stirs her. Scaramouche stares on. Instead you glance at the woman before you as she wakes, turning to her side. Barren skin save for jewelry, she runs her hands through her hair as she yawns.

“Oh, Your Highness. Already another round? I hardly got any rest.” She pouts. Her behavior is amusing to you always.

“Not today. My spouse has come to visit, so I’m sending you back to your chambers.” You say smoothly. She pouts, sitting up. The sheets that covered her so thinly have fallen, revealing the rest of her. A set of gold anklets that match with gold necklaces and gold bracelet. She sits up on her knees and wraps her around your neck.

“How cruel,” She whines, rubbing herself against you “How could you abandon when you favor me so much, hm?”

“You’re quite clever aren’t you? Trying to seduce me in front of my lover, and all?”

She pulls back to giggle.

“So you’ve seen through me. I don’t care for being sent away, you know?”

“What would you like as reconciliation?” You say.

“A kiss goodbye,” She replies easily. This time you look to Scaramouche. His face is burning red.

“Is it alright with you?”

He scoffs “As if it matters what I think.”

“I’ve asked you haven’t I?”

“Do as you please.”

You laugh. He says as much but he can't help but stare. He looks embarrassed, albeit you can’t imagine which thing is troubling him so much. It’s entertaining.

You kiss her goodbye as she’s asked, though you know what type of kiss she’s asking for. A deep kiss, the kind where you have to hold her by the nape of her neck. Salacious in nature, where she squirms and holds the front of your robe. You pull away with a laugh, rubbing her lower lip.

“Send my regards to everyone. It might be some time before I visit again.”

“How heartbreaking. I’ll do as you wish, Your Highness.” She stands to her feet, pulling herself out of bed and putting on the clothes left on the floor with a sigh. Her feet pad against the marble floor as she walks away.

She stops to look at Scaramouche before leaving, bowing her head in respect before standing back. She whispers something to him (that turns his face into a blushing mess once more) before patting him on the shoulder gently.

“I’m off,” She says, waving a hand but not looking back. The door clicks back shut a second time, leaving the two of you alone in silence. You take another drag from your pipe.

“Come. Sit.”

He does as you ask this time, stomping with a characteristic frustration that you stop to laugh at internally. He sits on the corner of your mattress, legs crossed. You get to see him up close this time. What delicate features he has, he couldn’t be any older than 21. The white silks he’s dressed in are fine. A thin, lace collar goes up to his throat. A skirt with high slits about the legs and lacy socks to cover the legs. He’s wearing something over it too, draped over his shoulders. You can see the cut-out of his chest. You only glance. Any longer than this and you’re sure he’ll protest.

“What troubles you, my bride?”

He grits his teeth.

“I’m no bride.”

“I know,” You say, without any hesitation “You’re the only filial son of the Great Raiden Shogun. I may be a tyrant, but I am no fool.”

This information surprises him. He wears his emotions on his face, as expected. He’s not gotten so far without being clever. The bounty on his head is insurmountable. There’s a tension in the room, an unspoken heaviness in the air. Quite a fragile thing he is.

“Then this, this marriage - it’s fraudulent isn’t it?” He says, angry. You hum.

“I knew before we wedded. Under the law of Tevyat and in the eyes of the Nation, you are my betrothed.”

He’s catching up to all that you know. You know it all. The rumors of the cold and unyielding Raiden Shogun. The desolate lands of Inazuma, the loss of childhood and the change in the young man. Rumors of the angry Crown Prince and his bleeding heart. How he was sacrificed for power to your hands, for the eternal vision of Inazuma.

Of course you know.

“Then why…if you know about me, then why?”

“The Raiden Shogun offered you to me to get in my good graces. There’s political fairs involved but the simply reason is because I wanted to. You’re easy on the eyes.”

He ignores your flirtatious comment as you expect.

“What are the political affairs?”

“Inazuma wishes to strengthen it’s naval army and a small nation requires resources. Since I’ve only just gained power after killing the Emperor, my position for the throne is destabilized and marriage was the best option to stabilize it again,” You explain, already bored just hearing yourself.

“We don’t gain anything from joining hands with Inazuma as it stands. And plenty of people have vouched desperately for my marriage. The simple answer is because an offer like the only child of the Raiden Shogun, who’s beauty is world-renowned is quite the tempting offer.”

He looks down, away from you and you resist your own laughter.

“I despise you,”

“I know that too. That pretty face of yours doesn’t leave much for imagination. What will you do my dear? Will you run? Cry? Scheme into driving a knife in my heart? Lure me into security and disappear?”

“...You’re personality is quite twisted.”

“I’m curious about the faces you make, that’s all. What will you do, how will you react, how you think. But I do not intend to make you miserable. There’s much to discuss,”

“....Why are you posing as if you’re kind?”

“A caged animal will lash out for it’s freedom,” You say, titting your head to one side “But a looked after one will never bite the hand that feeds.”

“Wouldn’t you be the one closer to an animal with your tendencies?”

“A beast, I hear so often. My point is the same. If I intend to make you even a begrudging ally, I’m not interested in angering you. Nor forcing myself upon you for that matter,” You add the last part intentionally.

“Disgusting,” He says, all while staring at the curve of your neck and your body “Really,”

“I do not intend to force you, but if you’re so against the idea - I think it’d only be fair I’m allowed to see my concubines. It’s your choice.”

He frowns at your explanation. You grin.

“Are you so troubled by it? Would you prefer I only long for you?”

“D-don’t word it like that.” He says, a shake in his voice. You hum, taking a long drag from your pipe.

“Maybe you’re the sentimental type? A lover from the homeland? Or perhaps, you’re just too inexperienced to be confident?”

You can see the exciting look on his face. That type of shame that very few nobles wear. Most of them degenerates, or liars. Prim and properly deceitful. You look at Scaramouche’s honest face and feel something between your legs. How much he wishes to admonish you, or even push you away but is all too curious to refuse. An expression like that is a jewel, a diamond waiting for polish.

You have to chip around it, bit by bit. Too much force and you’ll scratch his beautiful surface, you only pull at him gently. Tease him so tenderly he can’t scurry off.

“Shut up. You know nothing about me,”

“If you’re unsure, you can always try. I can teach you much easier than most,” You say. You wonder if he’ll call your bluff. But he doesn’t. He sits and folds his hands in your lap. He reminds you a bit of those Glaze Lily’s all the way from Liyue. Cold and blue and eye-catching.

Scaramouche does not call your bluff. He shifts to cover his legs and something is overwhelmed inside you. You hold your breath a little. So skittish.

“There’s nowhere for me to return to,” He says first, surprising you, a bitterness in his tone that pleases you “It’s not like I want to stay here or be your ally. But returning to a place that has discarded me is even more disgusting.”

“So we’re allies for now. Understood,” You say, glancing at him “Then, are you giving me permission to sleep with you?”

His eyes widen, face reddening to an impossible degree. A belly laugh leaves you. What a simple person in the end.

“You―W-we have to consummate the marriage, don’t we? A-and if I stay here, I’ll have power. Leaving it open means it’ll be nullified and―”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me. If you feel too embarrassed about your desires, you may spread rumors about simply quelling my appetite,” You say with a mild expression, intending it with sincerity “It’d be a shame to do nothing when you’ve dressed up so nicely for your arrival. Come closer,”

Your comment must bother him, but he resigns himself. He does as he’s asked, slowly getting on his knees and crawling towards you. His eyes are erratic, skin flush. He’s simply sitting across from you and he can’t look at you directly. You’re a little astonished by the extent of his innocence, especially with all the violent rumors around him. You blow out the flame of your pipe, and lean to one side away from you.

Then you stretch your legs out, placing your hands gently on his waist so he doesn’t startle. You manuever so he’s stradling you, his knees on either side of your thigh. Looking at him closely is exciting. There’s makeup on his face. Crushed pink pigment smeared on his lip and smoothed with oil and eyes lined with something dark. You reach your hand up to cup his face, and he manages not to flinch.

Though you can hear his heart beat. It’s tremendously loud. Nervous.

“Relax, I won’t eat you, for now. I’ll take take responsibility. Have you kissed anyone?”

“S-so what if I haven’t?”

“We’ll start there. Close your eyes and follow me.”

He listens obediently again, closing his eyes. His hands are clenched over his knee. You grab them and let them rest over your shoulders before sneaking your hand to the side of his face. You lean in to kiss him gently, his skin soft. He smells like lavender and oats, the hairs on his nape brushing against your fingers delicately. His lips are soft as you start slowly, opening your mouth just a little. He learns quickly, following your actions without trying to take lead.

You pull away and do it again. Again and again and again until you’re used to the pace. You use your free hand to squeeze at his delicate waist, relishing in how easily he succumbs to the feelings. He lets out something like a moan that embarasses him near immediately as he pulls away. He’s clumsy but it’s cute, and makes you want to kiss him more.

He turns his head, using his wrist to cover his mouth which you grab swiftly. You grab his chin too, rubbing your thumb on his lip.

“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out,” You say, a little more eager than last. He makes a face but listens. You mimic him before kissing him one more time. The feeling of your tongue must surprise him. Either way, his body responds so beautiful. He nearly melts in your arms as you wrap them around his waist, fingers dancing to any bare skin you can. He makes a pretty, pitchy sound for you but doesn’t pull away this time.

When you stop kissing him, his face looks hazy. Frustrated, he almost goes to chase your mouth but stops himself. You smirk just barely, before busying your mouth on his chin. Open kisses trace his jaw as you lean into his pulse.

It beats under your teeth, his heart does, so red and so loud. For a minute you really do want to eat him alive, devour him in one swallow. But you restrain yourself from such desires, instead putting little marks on his body for tommorrow. So everyone knows not to say anything about his status. He can resent you later but for now, it’s a safety precaution.

He makes sounds like a melody, a string insturment in the warm sun. There’s something divinely beautiful about him. His body reacts to your simple touches, a shiver running up his spine as you kiss his neck and grope him lightly. It excites you, those innocent reactions. Makes something stir in your gut and grow hot between your legs.

You feel something shift underneath you. When you look, there’s something hard poking from his clothes. It makes a tent in the delicate fabric where he stands. You pull away just to stare at it, amused by how hard he is.

“Stop looking at it or I’ll gouge your eyes out,”

“It’s cute,” You say with conviction, wrapping your hands around the base with the fabric and squeezing the base “I should get to look,”

“W-what are you?”

“I’ll bet a stuck-up prince type like you didn’t get much education. There are more ways than one to feel pleasure than sticking it in. I’ll show you, so don’t run away,”

He doesn’t have the words to protest. He doesn’t refuse you, just watches through his hands. You rub him so slightly through the thin material. Can see it clear with your eyes adjusted. It fits easily in your palm, tip harsh pink and curved. You place your thumb over the tip, smearing the pre-cum leaking onto the fabric. He’s so sticky, so hard and hot in your palms.

“It’d be better if I touched you directly, but you’re cute like this. So lewd,”

He has nothing to say. A whine or protest gets cut short with a groan of pleasure. You laugh a little. You search the bed for a bottle of oil with your free hand. When you find it, you pull away and drip it into your hands.

“Hold this up for me.” You say softly. He hesitates but does, pulling the skirt up until his cock is visible. You rub the oil into your hands, warming it before wrapping around the shaft. The skin-to-skin proves to be a lot for him, his body already trembling though you’ve hardly touched him. He’s much heavier like this, His cock is smooth and he’s near hairless, You can see so much of him, the plane of his stomach and the musculature of his thighs.

He’s got lithe muscle, nothing too hard or too defined but there all the time. He’s got a dip in one of his hips and a mole that you’ll kiss some other time, just above where you’re touching. You wonder if there’s more. Once you have your way with him you’ll count.

You stroke him slowly and easily. Any more than this might be cruel since this much action seems to be too much. You watchi his expression as you build to a steady pace, paying special attention to the head. His expression is debauched. Inexperienced as you expected, but perhaps even more than that - sensitive. He’s throbbing against the curves of your roughened skin, gasping and holding hard onto your shoulder as he tries to keep himself tight in one place. You lean your head forward, kissing just under his pec.

“This is as far as I’ll go today. Cum for your beloved, hm? Show me your face?”

That seems to do it for him. The use of lover in such a context pushes him over the edge and it only takes two more strokes to spill into your fingers. Thick, hot ropes of cum makes a mess of your fingers as he ruts his cock into your palms chasing his high.

When he’s finished, he nearly collapses into your lap. It sedates all of his previous angers, something you note in the back of your mind.

You bring your hand up your mouth, tasting it. He gasps, scandalized.

“That’s dirty!”

“I’ve done worse. Besides it wasn’t bad. Hand me that,” You gesture. He tosses you the rag to wipe your hand with and you toss it in the basket at the end of your bed. Before he can push you away, you pull him into your arms and laydown.

“What are you doing?” He says, indignant.

“Holding you,” You say without blinking, looking down at him. You wrap your arms around his waist and let him cuddle into you “The concubines get angry if I don’t after,”

“...Don’t talk about them right now,”

You laugh “Right, sorry.”

“....What about me?”

You laugh a little at him pretending he isn’t worried.

“I know you said not to mention it but I’m all worn out for today. So get some sleep. I’ll have my Advisor prepare more in the morning but you should rest.”

“Ugh. Fine. If you insist,” He says, melting into you anyway. You laugh to yourself as he closes his eyes.

You’ve signed up for something fun.

#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut #genshim impact x reader #genshin impact smut #writing tag #wanderer x reader #wanderer smut #please read this i rlly like how it turned out sdjkdkfj #ask to tag #age gap cw #infidelity cw #cheating cw #<- its not cheating its like common in the time period but im tagging anyway #okay. going to disappear again after queueing a bit bc im supposed to be on hiatus till goj is finished

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thebibliosphere · 1 year

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Did you have any thoughts on the prophecy in the last few minutes of blood origin? The editing seemed to imply that Jaskier had something to do with it which has caused some grumbling from people who want more book accuracy.

The people who want more book accuracy have been grumbling about things deviating from the books since the games came out :p

Honestly, everyone would be a lot happier if they just realized we're traversing down parallel timelines that look similar but have their own stories to tell. We're essentially watching Wither fanfic with a Netflix budget. Would that more fandoms have such coinage.

Anyway, yeah, I do have some thoughts about it.

Spoilers under the cut!

So just to recap the last few lines of the prophecy, "the Lark's seed shall carry forth the first note of a song that ends all times, and one of her blood shall sing the last."

You get the general gist that Lark/Eile's bloodline is being referenced, and Jaskier gets to break the fourth wall a bit by quite obliviously going, "wait, what, who?"

The elven woman then commands him to "sing the song of the seven, Sandpiper, so the oppressed may find hope and strength and make ready for the great change to come," ensuring that Jaskier's voice is tied to how things end no matter what.

But let's jump back a bit and break things down some more.

Focusing on "the first note that ends all times," I believe that's meant to be a reference to Ciri's power. We've seen what happens when she screams; imagine what some training and time with Yennefer will achieve. Girl is going to end the universe as we know it. Again.

But wait, who is the "and one of her blood shall sing the last?"

Why, it's our dear bard, of course!

This implies that Jaskier is related to Ciri in some way, which I don't find all that implausible, no matter how much some people are grumbling about it. He's a Viscount, after all. And royal and noble bloodlines are so thickly interwoven in this universe that all their family trees look like wreaths if you squint. Sometimes you don't even need to squint. (and that is book accurate.) It's entirely plausible that Jaskier and Ciri are thirteenth cousins twice removed on their divorced great aunt's side. Or somebody had an affair. That's just as likely.

If anyone is still skeptical about this theory, Jaskier's nickname, Sandpiper, is also a type of bird, tying him back to Lark again. Lark is the bird that sang at the start of the world as we know it; the Sandpiper will sing as it ends.

It's quite heavy-handed, and I'll be surprised if the show doesn't run full tilt with it. It'd also let them handwave away why they forgot to age up Jaskier in season one. Surprise, elf blood!

Now, I know why people are mad about it because the person in the book who is telling the end of the story is meant to be Ciri.

But this is not the book series. This is the Witcher Netflix series, and they're giving the narrative burden to Jaskier, which IMO makes more sense given his tendency to break the fourth wall and that it's his voice we hear at the end of every season finale, singing through the end credits.

He is quite literally going to be the last song we hear as the series ends. It makes narrative sense to pass the burden of retelling the story on to him.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my Witcher TedTalk.

I'm going to be so mad if the showrunners don't do any of this and pull some complete batshit fuckery out of their arses as a twist.

#the witcher netflix #witcher blood origin spoilers #ciri #jaskier #fan theory

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scotianostra · 8 months

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Happy 90th Birthday Scottish actor David McCallum.

Born as David Keith McCallum, Jr on this day 19933 in Maryhill, Glasgow, the second of two sons of Dorothy Dorman, a cellist, and orchestral violinist David McCallum Sr. When he was three, his family moved to London for his father to play as concertmaster in the London Philharmonic Orchestra. Early in the Second World War, he was evacuated back to Scotland, where he lived with his mother at Gartocharn by Loch Lomond.

McCallum won a scholarship to University College School, a boys' independent school in Hampstead, London, where, encouraged by his parents to prepare for a career in music, he played the oboe.In 1946 he began doing boy voices for the BBC radio repertory company. Also involved in local amateur drama, at age 17, he appeared as Oberon in an open-air production of A Midsummer Night's Dream with the Play and Pageant Union. He left school at age 18 and was conscripted, joining the 3rd Battalion the Middlesex Regiment, which was seconded to the Royal West African Frontier Force.In March 1954 he was promoted to Lieutenant. After leaving the army he attended the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (also in London), where Joan Collins was a classmate.

David McCallum’s acting career has spanned six decades; however, these days he is best known for his starring role on the police procedural NCIS as medical examiner as Dr. Donald “Ducky” Mallard. I first really remember McCallum for his role in another US show, The Invisible Man which ran for 13 episodes in the 70's. McCallum by then was a veteran of many TV and Film roles, starting in the 50's including Our Mutual Friend and The Eustace Diamonds, in the 60's he was in several ITV Playhouse shows before moving across the Atlantic to take roles in The Outer Limits and his big break as Illya Kuryakin in several incantations of The Man from Uncle.

His most notable films were The Greatest Story Ever Told as

Judas Iscariot and of course Ashley-Pitt 'Dispersal' in The Great Escape.

As well as the aforementioned Invisible Man in the 70's he took time to pop back over to our shores to star in two quality series, as Flt. Lt. Simon Carter in Colditz and Alan Breck Stewart in an adaption of Robert Louis Stevenson's, Kidnapped.

The 80's saw him team up with the lovely Joanna Lumley in Sapphire & Steel and several guest roles in the likes of The A Team, Hart to Hart and Murder, She Wrote as well as a one off reprise of Illya in the TV movie The Return of the Man from U.N.C.L.E.: The Fifteen Years Later Affair.

The 90's saw David in Cluedo and Trainer on our TV screens over here and American science-fiction series VR-5 in the states..

During the last 20 years or so he has been in the kids TV show, Ben 10: Omniverse as the voice of Professor Paradox and of course Donald Horatio "Ducky" Mallard in over 350 episodes of the popular NCIS.

David has been married twice. He married his first wife Jill Ireland in 1957. They met on the set of the movie Hell Drivers. Together, they had two sons and a daughter, Paul, Jason and Valentine, with Jason being the only one who was adopted. In 1963, David introduced Jill to his co-star on The Great Escape, Charles Bronson, and she left David and married Charles in 1968. In 1967, David married Katherine Carpenter and they have two children together, a son Peter and a daughter, Sophie. He and Katherine currently live in New York.

In NCIS since 2018, Ducky, played by McCallum, has appeared in fewer episodes. avid McCallum explained that appearing in fewer episodes will allow him to see more of his family, which includes his wife, children, six grandsons, and their cat, Nickie. According to IMDB he has chalked up an amazing 457 appearances in the show, morethan anyother character in the series.

#scotland #scottish #actor #television #cinema #happy birthday #NCIS #ducky mallard

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

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Yandere Evil Queen Blurb

Tw: brief mentions of character death and blood

By day, sits you once again by the window sill; gazing out at a land that once belonged to you. A marriage by law sealed your fate as prison upon the night of your first outing with your new spouse. A ball - meant to celebrate the communion of the royal couple, but only served as the catalist of your oncoming downfall.

You stood hand and hand with your new lover; clasping them so - in hopes that your forced partnership could lead to more. As the night continued, that dream was crushed with the arrival of a woman in black.

She entered the castle like a phantom; gone from sight before once could notice, her laughter the sole trace of her presence. Those who did see her were unable to look away. Fiery eyes; framed by the image of a angel. The second she took the floor, everyone looked her way - including your spouse to be. A cruel luck would it be that the one who caught her gaze was the single person who felt unease in her existence.

In the split second you looked away, your spouse was by her side. They chatted like old mates oblivious of the universe around them. You held on, knowing her time was fleeting, only to be met with her smiling face haunting the halls of the castle the following day. She never left, never parted from your partner's side, never looked away when your eyes met. It wasn't long before rumors of their affair began, and even less time to confirm those whispers as true.

Cast aside by the royal family, your punishment would not end there. The night before you were spent home, the soon to be Queen accused you of stealing her prized necklace. A crime of which there were no clear convictions; for the necklace had been found dangling from your very one neck.

Punishable by death in some option, you were given mercy in the form of life behind bars. In some ways it truly was an act of kindness. Your cell was placed in the farest tower of the castle; the free mountain range just a few bars away. You had allowed to keep your belongings and handed new clothes in the winter; some better than your older paies. You were fed the nicest food, and even kept company with the outside world through a pen pal who you suspected to be the person who'd given you your luxuries.

The room itself, however, had to be none other than the Queen's order. She spoke of forgiveness towards her enemies, and planned to lead the country with zero left behind. In a fair twist of fate, you heard from the guards that the woman wasn't all she was chalked to be. To a select group she had been colder than the ice that grew atop the neighboring mountains; a face that began to show after you were locked away.

Click!

You barely flinch as the door opens; waiting for the metal scrap of armor against wood. As the door whines on its hinges - you grow suspicious. Cool air drafts up from the stairwell. Through its howls, you faintly make out a repeating thump upon the stone steps. With each second it grows louder; churning your intestines with anxiety as it nears. The shadows of the exposed stairwell shrink and warp into a small sphere as the unseen force rolls into view. The little ball rolls right across the flooor and stops at your feet; your reflection swallowed by its shine.

"A... ball?"

You lean in to pick it up. As your hand wraps around its smooth surface, something stops you from picking it up. In your reflection, you see your own fingers mirroring your movements - but there's something off. Sensing danger, you retract your hand - but your image follows. A shadowy hand grabs your wrist, pulling you to the ground with a suction like force. You try to fight it, hooking your nails into the legs of your table; but more hands sprout from the rapidly expanding hole in the floor. You scream, but your voice is muffled by the collective. The last thing you feel before you're pulled under - is one of the hands stroking your cheek.

You open your eyes. Shadows still linger around you, yet not they move in an unusual manner. Stare at you with unblinking eyes. You soon realize that you're sitting at the end of a table, surrounded by these living silhouettes who keep their distance, but still make you feel suffocated. You look around, your surroundings painfully familiar. You were in the dining hall; one of the few times when you and your former spouse could come together as one. A throne stood at the farther corner of the room, where royalty could watch over their loyal guest. Beneath that holy structure, a body slumps to the floor; a soft hum blown through the lips of the figure overhead.

"Oh~ Have you finally brought me my prize?"

The woman walks up to the table, taking a seat at the other end. The right half of her face is covered by a white mask; black streaks bordering over her porcelain skin. She folds her hands in front of her, face twisting into a look of shock. She picks up a napkin, dabbing her bloody face with the white cloth.

"Pardon me! The first time we've seen each other in person in almost a year, and I make a mess of myself."

Her smile returns as if it never left. Your throat feels dry. Beside you, a shadow pours water into an empty glass.

"Tell me, dear. Do you like surprises?"

You wouldn't have notice she spoke, had it not been for her grin etching further up her face. "I... suppose so?"

"You do? Fantastic! Well in that case - surpise!"

The candles lighting the room go out; relighting seconds later with a spark. A strange smell fills the air. Adjusting to the return of sight, you come to find that you two are no longer the only humans in the room. Each seat is accompanied by a new body; limbs placed neatly on the table and burlap sacks over their heads. Smiles were carved with blank ink, yet some were hard to make out due to darkening stains in the fabric. Panic rises in your chest.

"What..." You choke on your words. "what the hell is going on?"

"It's our ceremonial dinner, darling!" You let out the scream that had been locked in your throat. The Queen sits on the arm of your chair, giggling at your display of fright.

"What a lovely voice you have. Ah, I knew you were the one." She stands up, waltzing over to one of the corspes and throwing an arm around it. "Believe me - they're much better here than they were at my first wedding. Crying and singing praises for that disgrace of a royal. It was embarrassing."

"Why did you do this?"

"Why? Could have been due to the simple fact the family of our mutual ex stole land from mine ages ago, disfigured us in unimaginable ways, nd revenge has been drilled into me since birth or it could be simply because I was bored - and they had something I wanted."

The Queen is back by your side in an instance. She cups the side of your face as she gazes into your eyes. You feel a divot in her palm as it frames your cheek.

"I lived my life peacefully for all these years, but the moment I decide to take a peak at the royal life I see an angel. Watching you more and more made me fall in love - and jealous, which one of those things I prefer not to be. I've seen how cruel that one used to be, and those who just let it happen. I couldn't let you suffer like that."

"Oh, but as a measly peasant I couldn't save you. No, only a Queen is worthy of saving a god and as of last night - I am the perfect fit at last."

#Yandere queen #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere blurb #female yandere #yandere witch #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #yandere drabble

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senditcolton · 3 months

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The Greatest of Luxuries

Pressing tiny kisses against your lover’s shoulder while they’re bent over a desk, trying to focus even though your touch is distracting them.

part of my Valentine's Day prompts requested by @smileysvech | word count: 1.4k | warnings: none! part of the "king of my heart" universe

You knew that secrets were a dangerous thing. While they may seem innocent in the moment, if they were revealed, they could cause heartbreak, loss, and even pain – not just to the people who kept them, but to others as well.

Secrets always caused more harm than good. But when a secret felt like a blessing in disguise… it was hard to rationalize the reasons to stop it.

A blessing was what nights like these felt like to you. Nights where you and the crown prince sat in the small art studio, quietly working – him on political affairs and you on your latest portrait – and often talking until the dawn sun rose over the horizon.

Every time Andrei crept into your studio under the cover of darkness, it didn’t feel like the two of you were doing anything wrong. It didn’t feel like this connection you shared could cause tensions in foreign affairs, dissent in the people of Carolyna, the downfall of the monarchy, or even risk the wellbeing of the royal family, Prince Andrei included, if it was ever revealed.

No. Here in the soft candlelight of your studio, this secret didn’t feel dangerous. It felt magical.

Your eyes lift from the canvas in front of you, sneaking a glance across the large work table towards Andrei. His head was bowed as his dark eyes scanned over the tax reforms that what were spread out in front of him. He looked gorgeous in the dim lighting, the glow from the candles casting shadows on his sharp features, highlighting the stubble that graced his jawline.

Andrei must have felt your stare, his eyes looking up and connecting to yours. A blush and a soft smile is the only response you give before your eyes dart back down to concentrate on your own work.

The blues, greens, and greys of the painted fabric blend together and you take a moment to plan your next move before dipping your brush into the paint layered on the palette in front of you. You mix the pigment until you achieve the perfect shade, brush returning to the canvas to add shadows and highlights, your brows furrowed in concentration.

A gentle clearing of the throat makes your eyes lift again, this time to catch Andrei staring at you.

“You’re very cute when you’re concentrating,” he says, his husky voice echoing in the quiet of the studio.

“So are you,” you reply, a soft smile appearing on your lips. Andrei grins and the two of you spend a moment staring into each other’s eyes before you turn back to the task at hand. You hear Andrei shift, presumably to do the same but that thought is disproved when you hear the sound of his footsteps walking around the table, making their way to you.

You feel Andrei come to a stop behind you before his warm hands land on your shoulders, the sparks that his touch always elicited thrumming through your body. He leans his head over your shoulder, looking down and studying the portrait in front of you.

“What do you think? Does it look like your brother?”

You were charged with painting a new portrait of Prince Evgeny to celebrate his upcoming return and you wanted it to be perfect. It was proving to be a difficult task, simply because you had never met the prince and the only references you had were the portraits of him already hanging throughout the palace.

“Looks better than any of the other paintings he’s had done,” Andrei replies, the subtle compliment not going unnoticed by you. “Some advice – we look similar, me and him. He looks a little more like my father where I look like my mother.”

“Where?” you ask. The question doesn’t seem to fully register with Andrei as his head turns to look at you, one brow raised in confusion. “I mean, in which facial features do you look different?” An understanding smile graces Andrei’s features before he speaks again.

“Mostly the nose, but the eyes as well.”

You pick up a pencil lying close by, scribbling his notes onto a piece of scrap paper. You can hear Andrei’s soft chuckle in response to your actions, his grip softly tightening as he squeezes your shoulders.

“You’re very tense,” he remarks.

“I just want it to be perfect for your brother.”

“It will be,” comes his gentle reply, his hands flexing against your shoulders once more. You sigh, turning your gaze back to the portrait as you pick up your brush again. Andrei’s hands remain on your shoulders but you don’t mind it the sensation. Andrei’s touch was always comforting to you.

You feel Andrei’s hands move again; this time his fingers slip beneath the collar. The touch of his skin against yours ignites another fire within you. Andrei takes the thin fabric of your chemise between his fingers, dragging the material down to expose your bare shoulder. The kiss that he presses into the delicate skin is enough to make you shiver.

“Andrei,” you playfully whine, the vowels of his name extended. “You’re distracting me.”

Your words do nothing to halt his movements. In fact, they just seem to egg him on, his lips falling on your skin again, creeping up the slope of your shoulder. Either out of instinct or pure desire, your head falls to the side, allowing his kisses to continue their path up your neck with ease. You can feel the vibration of his laughter against your skin. Andrei’s lips eventually come to hover by the shell of your ear, his warm breath softly ruffling your hair.

“You seem to be enjoying it,” he whispers.

Those hushed words dissolve the last modicum of your self-control. In a haste, you toss your paintbrush into the small cup of water before spinning on your stool to face Andrei completely. Your speed took him slightly by surprise but he doesn’t resist when your hands fly up to his hair, pulling him close enough for you to be able to crash your lips onto his.

His hands that originally were resting on your arms drop to grip your waist, keeping your body pressed to his as he kisses you back with a passion. The two of you stay like that, locked up in each other’s embrace until you eventually pull away.

“I’m never going to finish this portrait if you keep disrupting my work,” you playfully tease. “Then your brother will be disappointed and might hate me for being the one responsible.”

“If it’s half-finished or even if it looks nothing like him, Evgeny will love it and you. Because I love you.”

His words give you pause, moving that final distance away from him to look into his dark brown eyes.

“Are you going to tell him about us?” you ask, the hesitation in your voice clear.

“Only if you want me to.”

The offer sinks in and your mind considers the options. You knew that Andrei loved his brother and wanted to share his feelings about you with his closest blood. But another person knowing about the two of you meant more of a chance that your secret romance would be revealed, and such information might create problems.

Your internal debate is interrupted by a knock on the studio door. Both you and Andrei look towards the sound as Pyotr, Andrei’s personal guard peeks his head in.

“Apologies, vashe siyatelstvo,” Pyotr says, lightly bowing his head. “I think it may be best if you would retire for the night.”

Your attention turns back to Andrei, watching his own eyes dart to the humble clock hanging on your wall before returning to Pyotr.

“Very well. I’ll be out shortly.”

Pyotr gives another small nod of his head before retreating. As soon as the sound of the door clicking into place dissipates, Andrei takes your face into his hands and presses another soft kiss against your lips.

“You don’t have to tell me now,” he says. “Just let me know. I’ll be alright with whatever you decide.”

You gently nod your head in understanding, the action bringing a smile to Andrei’s face, one you can’t help but mirror. He kisses you once more before his hands fall from your body completely. You watch as he gathers the papers that were scattered on the table. Once they were in his hands, he walks to the door. But before he departs, he glances back at you.

“I love you,” he whispers, the words sounding less like a secret and more like an oath.

“I love you too,” you murmur.

#nicole writes #andrei svechnikov blurb #andrei svechnikov fluff #carolina hurricanes blurb #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #valentine blurbs 2k24 #king of my heart series

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the-hopefulpenguin · 1 month

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The Problem of the Earth Kingdom

I’ve been doing some more thinking about Avatar geopolitics and I’ve settled upon a bit of an overarching theory - that the Earth Kingdom is the seat of every war in the last two centuries plus of the Avatar universe.

This is not to say that the Fire Nation, in particular, does not bear culpability for the Hundred Year War; they absolutely do; but rather that the geopolitical problem posed by the Earth Kingdom is one which policymakers have grappled with throughout the shows and books, to limited success. In brief, it is this: a strong Earth Kingdom is too powerful; a weak one is too unstable. As a result, policymakers in the Caldera, Republic City, the Water Tribes, and the White Lotus have struggled to find an effective balance - and repeatedly failed to do so.

To prove this, I would like to do give a history of major conflicts in Avatar and why they link back to this central problem of the Earth Kingdom.

THE PLATINUM KING Our first piece of evidence is the Platinum Affair and subsequent rule of Earth King Feishan in the late 5th and early 4th centuries BG. These inferences are drawn noting that we have relatively limited textual evidence from the period.

The inciting incident was a prolonged civil war in the Earth Kingdom, between the armies of the Earth King Feishan and a General Nong. The origins of the conflict are unclear, but we do know that it was protracted, with neither side seeking a decisive engagement. This had a negative impact on trade and potentially international stability.

As a consequence, the Water Tribes and Fire Nation began to fund General Nong in secret - the intention appearing to be to have him win and end the fighting, with a friendly regime in Ba Sing Se. In other words, foreign powers refused to tolerate instability in the Earth Kingdom, and so intervened.

Unfortunately for Agna Q’ela and the Caldera, Feishan ultimately won the civil war at the Battle of Llamapaca’s Crossing, which revealed the funding scheme and foreign culpability in it. The Earth King responded by embargoing on the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom, with only four cities permitted to handle a limited throughput of foreign trade. Internationally mobile elites (the shang merchants) in these cities, seeking to break free of the Earth King, attempted to develop new forms of bending - risking international stability in the process. Feishan also considered invasions of the other powers due to cooled relations. This is an example of how a strong, centralised Earth Kingdom provoked resistance from its periphery and fear abroad.

THE FIFTH NATION Our next piece of evidence is centred on the late fourth and early third centuries BG - the rise and fall of the Fifth Nation, a major group of corsairs operating off the southern coast of the Earth Kingdom.

Our textual sources on their rise to prominence are somewhat patchy. We know that there was a long history of sea-banditry in the region, but by the time of Yangchen, they were powerful enough for the Avatar to personally sign a treaty with them to secure an agreement not to attack the coasts of the Earth Kingdom. It is probable that their willingness to sign a deal with Yangchen was as much to do with fear of a united Earth Kingdom under Feishan as it was terror of the Avatar. After all, Yangchen’s treaty makes no mention of at-sea piracy; only that which directly targets the Earth Kingdom.

However, the end of the Feishan dynasty - it is unclear if this is the death of Feishan himself, or an immediate successor - led to the Wars of Secrets and Daggers, a succession of assassinations and palace coups from at least 306-296 BG which killed at least seven royals. This chaos was exploited by the Yellow Neck Uprising and led to rising status among regional magnates such as Jianzhu - who ultimately crushed the Yellow Necks at the Battle of Zhulu Pass. In short, the late fourth century BG saw a complete collapse in central Earth Kingdom authority.

The Fifth Nation was quick to exploit this, defeating the Earth Kingdom fleet in open combat and establishing maritime hegemony in the Eastern Ocean. They failed to expand into the Mo Ce, largely due to the actions of the Fire Nation, who stepped up their patrols to counter the pirate threat. The Fifth Nation was ultimately destroyed by Avatar Kyoshi and an aggressive maritime counterinsurgency campaign waged by the Fire Nation. In other words, the failure of Earth Kingdom stability exported a severe maritime security challenge which required sustained Calderan intervention to resolve.

SOZIN’S FEAR, OZAI’S FOLLY I've presented my argument about the origins of the Hundred Year War previously, so I will not dwell on it - the above article is a richer explanation. In brief, however, from the crisis of the fourth century, the Earth Kingdom began to enjoy a slow revival in fortunes through the third and second centuries - largely due to the actions of Avatar Kyoshi. By the first century BG, it is plausible that Ba Sing Se’s authority was once more reaching into its maritime periphery along the Mo Ce coastline.

For a Fire Nation used to trading privileges and political influence in this part of the Earth Kingdom, this could be seen as an immediate infringement. Moreover, the example of Feishan suggests that a united Earth Kingdom could threaten the core interests - perhaps even sovereignty - of the Fire Nation. Sozin therefore invaded the Earth Kingdom not to exterminate it, but to secure Fire Nation interests in the periphery and limit the Earth Kingdom’s united power.

Unfortunately for the Fire Nation, the Earth Kingdom proved more cohesive than they had assessed, and the war ground on for decades until Ozai, a strategically inept Fire Lord, mobilised a big enough coalition against him to end in a defeat for the Fire Nation - one actively enabled by the Avatar.

SWORD OF THE CALDERA But for the Fire Nation, defeat in war led to victory in peace. Fire Lord Zuko swiftly renounced overt rule on the continent, but defended Fire Nation privileges all the same - deploying an army to the continent in 101 AG to face down a royal force under Earth King Kuei. This crisis was settled by Avatar Aang, and led to the creation of the United Republic, carved out of Earth Kingdom territory along the Mo Ce periphery.

But, as discussed elsewhere, the United Republic was only nominally independent. In practice, it was heavily tied into the cultural and economic world of the Fire Nation - to the point that the commander-in-chief of its military is a Fire Nation prince. It is unclear if Zuko personally intended this, but it is a defensible position to argue that the United Republic was created to weaken the Earth Kingdom.

And weaken it, it most likely did. By the late 2nd century AG, the Earth Kingdom is experiencing a serious domestic crisis, on the order of the crisis of the late fourth/early third century BG. Even the movement of tax revenues to Ba Sing Se is seriously in doubt due to bandit activity, while local magnates such as Suyin of Zaofu wield immense power. It is probable that the United Republic played a role in this - it deprived the Earth Kingdom of much of the lucrative Mo Ce trade, and served as a constant demonstration of Ba Sing Se’s weakness.

This was all well and good for the Fire Nation and other international actors, who had reason to fear a strong Earth Kingdom. But the situation spiralled out of control with the assassination of Queen Hou-Ting, and an enfeebled Earth Kingdom which did not pose a foreign threat collapsed into anarchy.

UNITY & DISASTER Clearly, something had to be done - instability in the Earth Kingdom threatened trading relations and fostered transnational threats such as the Red Lotus. The international community was unwilling to deploy their own troops into the Earth Kingdom to restore order, so; much like with General Nong centuries earlier; they selected a proxy to do it for them: Kuvira.

The global strategic intent seems clear. Prince Wu was a United Republic-friendly candidate for the throne. Kuvira, legally empowered and supported with money and weapons, would re-unite the Earth Kingdom. She would then step aside and let Wu take the throne, where he would reign over a stabilised but non-threatening Earth Kingdom.

Unfortunately for this plan, Kuvira refused to hand over power, instead forming the revanchist Earth Empire and setting her sights on conquering the United Republic. This was not megalomania but rather geopolitics; for the Earth Kingdom to be strong, the Fire Nation-backed intrusion on the Mo Ce periphery must be repulsed. There are certainly shades of Feishan’s embargo policy to be found in Kuvira’s approach. Kuvira was, however, subsequently defeated by the Avatar and the United Forces, ending the immediate territorial threat to the United Republic.

RUINS OF THE EMPIRE In light of this challenge, the policy approach changed - the Earth Kingdom would be abolished, and instead be broken up into a set of independent, democratic states. On the surface, this resolves the too strong/too unstable paradox which plagued foreign policy calculations for centuries. In practice, it is highly likely to lead to further violence.

There is little tradition of local democracy in the Earth Kingdom, but extensive examples of military magnates and warlords assuming control in the absence of centralised authority. The aftermath of Kuvira’s conquests, as we see in Ruins of the Empire, left substantial stockpiles of sophisticated weapons available. The division of a large, multi-ethnic empire into smaller states is a difficult process likely to lead to grievance and dissent. And all this is not to mention the threat of spirit vine weapon proliferation.

The future of the Earth Kingdom, far from looking like a democratic paradise, probably involves a chaotic mixture of shaky democracies and outright autocracies vying for position. If any one of the successor states can gain enough power, they may well attempt to follow Kuvira, and Chin, and Feishan, in consolidating imperial rule over the whole Earth Kingdom.

For foreign powers, then, far from solving anything with this new step, they have simply fired the starting pistol on the latest round of Earth Kingdom instability - which is likely, in the best case, to generate transborder threats requiring action; and in the worst case, lead to the consolidation of the Earth Kingdom behind a new, revanchist leader, and the outbreak of another major conventional war.

#atla #lok #atla meta #lok meta #atla worldbuilding #lok worldbuilding #zuko #kyoshi #yangchen

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