#GIVE ME MORE OF MY GLORIOUS QUEEN X READERS

[recreationalfanfics]

Yandere Vixen/Mari McCabe x Fem! Reader

Author's Note: MY WIFEEEE. I lied ya'll, Mari was actually my first female hero love. This scene of her and the one where she's staring at John when he aims his ring at her changed my brain chemistry.

Warning: Suggestive themes/mentions of sex/yandere behavior obviously.

- Mari would be such a charismatic yandere, she knows how to hide her fangs from her pretty little darling so she doesn't accidentally scare them off. In fact, she'd be really hard to pin down as a yandere because she'd already have her darling wrapped around her finger completely with just her charm, wit, and beauty alone.

- I don't really see her as being a jealous yandere because, like, she's a successful business woman and famous model. Not in a conceited or arrogant way but she knows her darling puts her on a pedestal, so she can only laugh when others dare to try and sway her darling away from her. However she is protective of what's hers. Territorial. She won't outright kill people because being so renowned comes with its limitations but in general, her moral compass (although corrupt) could never allow her to do so. Scaring them off with her power and influence, however? That's more up her alley.

- Leaving lipstick kisses upon your skin and "accidentally" forgetting to remind you to get rid of them. Accidentally "forgetting" her designer bags, earrings, and jewelry at your home so that everyone that enters at least know that you two are very "close friends", and constantly cuddling next to you during stuffy galas and events while draping her arms around you to keep her close and nearby. Whispering sweet nothings in your ears and making you giggle and blush so hard while she sends a smirk at the person who tried to take you away from her. A reminder that they can never have you because Mari has worked hard to become the only apple of your eye.

- In current canon, she does design her own clothes so you becoming her muse in her future designs. No matter your body type, she'd absolutely adore every part of you. Her designs are lovingly drawn with all of your curves in her mind, she bites her lip as her fingers delicately run over the fabric to smooth it out over the mannequin because she knows the color would look absolutely perfect on you. If you ever complain about ill-fitting clothes or want to improve your outfits, don't worry your cute little head about it♡ Mari will be more than happy to do so, especially because it gives her an opportunity to see what kind of clothes you like, and what style preferences you have♡

- The reason why Mari is so obsessed with you is because you make her feel safe. She may protect people but whose there to protect her? She was forced to leave her home, her romances have ended in either tragedy or failure (B'wana Beast fucking dying, her and Bronze Tiger not working out, and John Stewart being a HOMEWRECKER/j), but despite all of that, she stayed strong and never let it get in the way of her duties as a hero.

- But then you came into her life. You became her friend and close confidant. She told you everything and you were so...kind, compassionate. You put your hand over hers and told her how much you admired her for being so strong...but that you also felt so bad that she had no one to lean on, no one she felt that she could depend on, that she always had to be the one to keep the brave face. Maybe its because you understood what it was like to feel that way, maybe it was out of extreme empathy but you smiled up at her.

- "Mari, I might not be able to fly or save the world like you do, but....I want to be there for you. I admire you, not just for your strength or your bravery, but because your heart is so big and has gone through so much. Please, let me help you the same way you help everyone else!"

- And once she felt her heart skip a beat, she realized that she could never let you go. Because she finally had someone who she could come home to, someone who she felt safe enough to not be Vixen or renowned supermodel/ fashion designer. But Mari McCabe, the woman who helps people because she wasn't able to help the ones she loved. But not you, she'll be ready this time.

- After all, she's not oblivious to the risks of what happens to civilians who date heroes. She's seen it again and again with her coworkers and friends. So while she won't kill villains, she will give them a message they will never forget. Scratch it into their minds with her perfectly manicured and sharp nails that you are not be touched and that she will happily give them reasons not too.

- She really isn't that bad of a yandere. She would love to spoil you but she would have enough empathy to not straight up rob you of your independence. Not to mention that unlike traditional yanderes who want to lock their darlings away, Mari would love to flaunt you at her side. Showing you off in cute outfits that she bought/made you herself, taking you with her to different countries where she has a photoshoot at so you two can make a vacation of it, and having everyone gawk at you and her the moment you two walk into the room knowing they can look at you but they can't touch.

- She tries her best to keep you out of her work but if you notice her stressed or upset, you beg her for the chance to make her feel better. That can either mean having a nice relaxing bath with rose petals and soothing salts with her, massaging her tense muscles and aching body from a hard night of fighting and acrobatics, or maybe something a bit more physical. Maybe even all three. Either way, it will always end with her using her fingers to draw various shapes and patterns on your bare skin as she purrs softly into your comforting kisses and sweet praise. Her grip on you tightening and a small playful whine pulled from her lips whenever you stop for even a second.

- SHE WOULD TOTALLY RECOGNIZE YOU FROM SCENT ALONE AS WELL and her heightened senses are HIGHLY tuned to every detail about you. When she's halfway at the door of the luxury apartment she convinced you to live with her in, she smiles at the sounds of your scurrying feet as you excitedly anticipate the return of your lovely girlfriend. The way that she loves to sniff your hair and during sex, would so have a thing for pressing her nose against your body and letting herself get dizzy and drunk off your delicious scent♡ She savors every touch and intimate moment you two share like a fine meal, worshipping every part of your body and letting you do the same to hers, she will have every aspect of you memorized like the back of her hand.

- When she feels insecure or unconfident, she needs you. She lays her head on your lap and wants you to tell her that it will all be better. As prideful of a woman as she is, she can't deny the fact that she feels herself get soft around you. But that doesn't make you her weakness. Quite the opposite actually. Because even when the odds are against her, even when it seems like the villains have the upper hand, Mari will keep pressing on. Her urge to fight and protect stronger than ever and its all because of you. She fights so hard to get back home to you, she will gladly take every hit and injury if it means you'll be back home to kiss it better. She refuses to go down because you'll be by yourself, your beautiful eyes teary eyed, and your poor sweet heart broken because of her. The thought alone drives her insane with determination and anger because Mari will always be there to wipe away your tears, just like you have hers, and she will push herself above and beyond to get back to you.

- In terms of her being aware of her own yandere tendencies, she is aware that the feelings she has for you are wrong. That her dark thoughts aren't the normal jealous/possessiveness that people typically feel for their partners. But she will also justify to herself that its for your own good and besides...you love her, right? You'd totally accept her and the ugly side of her affections but there's no need to reveal all of that to you now. Instead just focus on her distractions and flirtations.

- Because they keep you from seeing that you foolishly wandered into the lioness's den and that there's no way to escape it now♡

[frost-queen]

Tempting fate // part 6 (Reader!Featherington x Colin Bridgerton)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @bubblybrianna97 , @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , 

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Summary: Colin remains desperate for your attention. Yet you are not so eager to give it to him. Being at the brink of despare, he might need a little help to have you just where he wants you. [ part 1 & part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 & part 7 & part 8 & part 9 & part 10]

You adjusted the shawl laying over your elbows, your sisters walking a bit further with their husbands. Phillipa was holding a parasol for the sun on this glorious stroll. – “Y/n do keep up.” – Portia called out seeing that you had lingered behind. – “Yes mama.” – you answered, quickening up your pace to hasten yourself over to them. You came joining Prudence’s side. Her arm locked in with her husband Robert Huxley. – “What a splendid weather is it not.” – Robert pointed out cheerfully.

Receiving not much later a slap against his shoulder from Prudence. He looked confused at his own wife. – “No one wants to have this dull conversation about the weather.” – Prudence let out with a bored expression. It made you chuckle softly. Prudence took in a deep breath, preparing herself to ask you something rather delicate. – “Is there something between you and Penelope?” – she asked, her eyes gliding across to where Penelope walked with mother.

Phillipa and her husband right behind them. – “Of course not.” – you said with a delicate smile. – “Liar.” – Prudence countered having leaned closer to you. – “I must agree with my wife on this matter Y/n. There definitely feels like something in going on between the two of you.” – Robert pitched in the conversation.

Prudence turned her head to him with a smile. – “Good to see you agree with me.” – she outed. Robert chuckled. – “I always agree with you.” – he said to let her have no doubts. Prudence’s eyes twinkled with delight. Robert snuck in a kiss against her cheek. You hoped that would let them forget about Penelope and you, but it didn’t.

Prudence let go of her husband’s arm and entangled hers around yours. – “What is it? What gossipy thing has happened between the two of you?” – Prudence whispered, leading you a bit away from her husband. Robert kept a respecting distance, still wanting to be close to his wife, but not intrude.

“Nothing.” – you answered making Prudence groaned annoyed. Her head fell back as the deep groan emerged from her mouth. – “Is this about the Bridgerton’s?” – Prudence asked as you came to a stop. Staring in shock at her. Prudence’s reaction to you was to smile wickedly. – “I am no fool Y/n.” – she whispered out letting go of your arm and join her husband’s once more.

Clenching your hands, you hurried back to them. – “This has nothing to do with Colin!” – you called out. Prudence turned around to you. She opened one hand explaining. – “Penelope and Colin have been friends since forever.” – she then glanced down at her other hand that she opened up to the side. – “I was told you were at the Bridgerton household, hinting you are having more interactions with Colin now that you’ve grown up.” – she clasped her hands together with a cheeky smile.

“One and one go together.” – she finished. – “What?” – you called out confused with wide eyes. – “Oh right, you were not aware. That night you were off God knows where, I came to the Bridgerton household to come and fetch you. You weren’t there of course but it was suggested.” – Prudence explained. Prudence took her husband’s arm again to continue the stroll in the park. – “By whom?” – you wanted to know, rushing after her.

“Our very own Penelope.” – Prudence informed you, making you stop and stare. – “Keep up Y/n.” – Prudence called out having walked further. You slowly came in motion, going in a slow pace after them. Head trying to grasp the information you had just obtained.

“Y/n!” – you heard loudly, making you gasp. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Colin Bridgerton make his way over. Not wanting to talk to him, you started walking off. – “Y/n wait!” – Colin called out quickening up his pace to come nearer. – “I want to talk.” – he let out going in pursuit of you. Lifting the hem of your dress a bit up, you started running. Running away from Colin. Having no desire to hear his excuses. – “Y/n!” – Colin called not letting you off the hook.

Robert turned around having heard your name. He nudged Prudence against her chest, turning around with her to see it for herself. Prudence gasped loud, grabbing her husband tight by the wrist. Digging her nails into him from excitement and entertainment. – “Y/n! Let us talk.” – Colin told you as you ran through the leaves of a willow tree. Running up to the thick bark to hide behind it.

Colin was about to enter the shadowy part underneath the willow as well till he got stopped. – “Colin?” – turning his head Penelope Featherington approached. – “Pen.” – Colin breathed out, letting his hand drop from under the leaves he had moved to create an entrance. He bowed to her as Penelope curtsied. – “Are you alone out here?” – she asked, getting on her toes to look past him.

“My family is by the lake.” – he pointed out. Penelope saw that Colin’s attention got drawn to the willow tree. – “Colin, you must simply tell me more about your travels to Paris. Tell me all about the culture, the food and wardrobes.” – Penelope suggested with a sweet smile. She gently nudged him when he was hesitant.

Penelope lured him away from the willow, strolling further away as she listened to his stories. You removed yourself from behind the bark, somewhat relieved your sister came in. If she hadn’t stepped in, you wouldn’t be able to get rid of him that easily. Going under the leaves, you got out in the open once more.

Gaze locking on your sister Prudence and her husband a bit further away. Prudence shaking her head, arms crossed. Her husband giving you a sheepish smile. Exhaling soft, you went over to your mother. Knowing Colin wouldn’t dare to come near with her by your side, if he ever dared to attempt it once more.

Having the uneasy feeling that Colin would try something no matter what, you told Portia you were not feeling well. She allowed you to take the carriage home. With a quickened pace, you made your way up to the path where the carriage awaited. The footman opened the door for you. You set your foot on the little step, already hoisting yourself up to get in the carriage. The footman was about to close the door as you were hovering to sit down.

The door suddenly getting held open by force. Colin Bridgerton came in the door opening, panting loud. – “Y/n let us talk.” – he breathed out. – “Colin!” – you screamed out startled. You didn’t want him anywhere near the carriage so you moved forwards, grabbing the door by the open window frame. You started pulling at it, the door bumping against Colin’s back as you tried to shut it.

Colin kept holding the door, making it for you unable to lock him out. – “I need to talk to you!” – he called out in desperation. – “I do not wish to speak with you.” – you made clear, pulling harder at the frame and shoving him back so you could close the door. – “Y/n! Hear me out!” – Colin kept the door open with all his might. You screamed loud in agony as he wasn’t giving up.

Colin saw no other solution so he set his foot on the little step, hoisting himself up. You cried it out in a panic as he was about to get in the carriage with you. – “Get out!” – you ordered him, pushing hard against his chest. Colin was sturdy and easily kept his position. – “Let me talk to you!” – Colin said annoyed that you kept pushing him off. Push after push, you shoved him against his chest, not wanting him to get in the carriage.

The carriage wobbled a bit from the movement as you didn’t want to think about the prying eyes it drew in. Colin Bridgerton standing half in a carriage, legs still out as something was clearly preventing him from getting on. – “Get out!” – you repeated loud at the brink of screaming your lungs out in frustration. You gave Colin a few more hard pushes as his foot slipped on the little step. It made him loose his balance as you could easily push him out of the carriage.

He fell down on his back on the gravely road. You stuck your upper body out to grab the door, wanting to slam it shut. – “Y/n please.” – Colin begged moving himself more upright. For a moment you stared at him, before your expression contracted in anger, slamming the door firmly shut.

The carriage got in motion as Colin came up to his feet. – “Y/n wait!” – he called out running after the carriage. Some ladies snorted loud seeing how Colin was so pathetic. He couldn’t possibly catch up with the carriage, slowing down as he was out of breath. Hands on his knees, he was panting loud. Defeated he returned to his family. Anthony waited eagerly for him, pushing Benedict a bit aside to come and meet him. – “And?” – Anhtony asked curious.

Colin shook his head, lowering it. Anthony exhaled deep, moving his hands to his hips. – “Do not worry brother, we’ll find a way.” – Anthony encouraged, swinging an arm over his shoulder. – “How?” – Colin called out frustrated. – “I messed up! She’s never going to talk to me ever again!” – Colin shrugged Anthony’s arm off. – “Don’t be absurd.” – Anthony answered.

“Every opportunity she takes a run for it!” – Colin called out angrily, taking a rock as he threw it in the lake. – “Colin!” – Violet scolded him for his bad behaviour. It made Colin sigh loud, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. Letting himself fall down in the grass, he gave up. Physically drained.

There was nothing he could do against the feeling. He couldn’t stop himself from feeling guilty for ever threating you so dishonest. Thinking back about it, he knew he sure was the fool.  He did truly liked you. At that time, he didn’t think it was strong enough for marriage. Not that soon. His brother made him think deeper about what he truly felt. Yet the damage was already done.

Seeing you with that other lord the other day, truly send him over the edge. Feeling you slip through his fingers as he was losing something, he didn’t want to lose. The feeling eating at him. That night Colin couldn’t sleep. Laying awake with taunting dreams of seeing you dance with that other lord.

Having to watch from the side-line as you gaze lovingly up to him. Imagining him standing in a corner, forgotten as you got married to the lord. Imagining you waking up next to him, his arms all around you as he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to stop the feeling and stop making excuses. Best of wishes to that Bridgerton.

Dancers took each other’s hands, brushing past each other to change positions. The next ball off the season had started off. The Bridgerton’s standing collectively together. A tray of drinks moved past as Colin snatched a glass from it. Drinking almost the entire content in one breath. He needed to drink himself some confidence. Getting a moment alone with you to talk, wasn’t going to be easy.

Colin found himself more and more being drawn to the stairs where newly guests would appear. Hoping each time the door opened, it would reveal you. The patience was nerve-wrecking. Almost making him break out in a sweat. The doors opened as he anticipated the moment to see you, yet it were others. After a while it didn’t seem like you would come. A girl having found her way to Colin, chatting to him about herself.

He rather wished to speak with you, but the distraction was welcoming at such dire times. The doors opened once more. Portia Featherington stepping out. Her daughters Phillipa and Prudence with their husbands right behind her. Colin caught them in the corner of his eyes, turning his head. Penelope stood in the centre, yet his gaze was drawn to you. Standing a bit behind your sister. Eyes to the floor as he noticed you were fidgeting nervously with your fingered gloves.

Colin’s gaze remained locked on you as you descended from the stairs. Joining the others at the ball. Colin excused himself from the girl, finding a way through the crowd to get to you. Your family moved to the side to settle as your eyes widened. Staring in front of you at the nearing of Colin Bridgerton. You immediately turned around, wanting to escape him. – “Y/n.” – Colin shout-whispered, keeping his voice decently down.

Pushing lord and ladies aside to force a way through to you. – “Please Y/n.” – he begged wanting nothing more than to have you speak to him. Graveling to get your attention. He quickened up his pace nearly touching the ribbon around your waist as it slipped through his fingers. A lord walked across as he came blocking his path to you. It made him groan frustratedly that he was losing sight of you. 

You were panting, trying to stay out of Colin’s clutches. You were distracted by looking over your shoulder for a sign of him, that when you turned your gaze to the front, you gasped loud. Anthony Bridgerton standing in front of you as he came blocking your path. – “A word Miss Y/n.” – he said.

Breathing shakily, you turned a quarter to run off when you were greeted by Benedict Bridgerton. – “I have no clue.” – he stated hands open so you couldn’t pass. Backing up, you knew they were trapping you. Anthony joining his brother’s side. – “You tricked me!” – you called out. – “Apologies.” – Anthony spoke as you suddenly felt a grip on your upper arms, making you gasp loud. You got spun around, looking up to Colin’s eyes. He was panting a bit, staring yearningly at your eyes. – “Please listen.”

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F!Dragon Reader x M! Yan Dragon OC

Chaos Incarnate

MINORS DNI

CW: FEM! Reader, reader is a shapeshifting dragon, reader has a vagina, reader referred to as she/her, non human anatomy(the guy’s a dragon, of course i’m giving him at least 2 dicks *cough cough* he has 3), reader is virgin, pet names for reader (little queen, ), kidnaped reader, NON CON, cervix fucking, breeding kink, unsafe sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, massive size difference/size kink, predator/prey play, severe violence against reader, dacryphilia, stomach bulge, scaleys(like furries but scaley lol idk if i should warn that but we are dragons), double(triple) penetration, 2 dicks in one hole, public sex, monster fucking i forget the word rn, not proofread whew that’s like my most ever XD ENJOY!<3 potions and magic high fantasy environment. p in v and p in b

Part 1?

You’ve been queen for only a short while. It wasn’t only your birthright, you’ve proven yourself a formidable foe, not to be trifled with on many a battlefield. Your roar has instilled fear in enemy armies, and has rallied your own troops countless times over. You are beloved by your people.

So how did you get into this situation?

A long since (thought to be) dead draconic titan kidnapping you?

The chains are tight around your torso, they’re also enchanted with some magic spell so that you cannot shift into your glorious dragon form. You feel real terror for the first in a long time.

He might eat you… He was known once as the world devourer. You gulp.

He can smell the fear on you, you could in his place, but his smirk gives it away further.

“Little queen,” Even in humanoid form his voice booms off the walls of his cavernous castle. “Why haven’t you had a brood of your own yet? hmm?” His posture is too lax for your own comfort. He inspects you while leaning against the metal bed posts of a massive larger than a standard dragon sized round bed.

“Wh-what!?” You cough and choke on your own spit, what a personal question!! Sure all of dragonkind is wondering why their new queen hasn’t at least taken consorts. “That’s too personal, and quite frankly none of your business.” You defiantly turn your head with a small “hmmpf”

“Oh little queen, that is where you are wrong,” He kicks off of the post, and slowly saunters over to you. He’s completely naked other than a gilded loincloth. You keep your eyes up to the ceiling and away from him. “I haven’t had brood of my own in… Well centuries! since i’ve been asleep and all that.”

Your brows peak, he can’t be going where you think he’s going. His claw traces your jaw and brings your face to his, he gazes upon your lips wantonly. “Please…”

“Oh I love it when you beg already. You’ll be doing plenty of that,” His claw becomes more and more draconic as he shifts it’s form to something much much sharper. You try to sink into the pillar you’re chained to to get away as best you can even though you know it’s no use.

*Slash!*

Your chains clink against the floor loudly. He’s set you free? You look back at him with only one eye opening at a time.

“Your first time should be done properly, right?” His grin is far too toothy for comfort.

“How did you—?” you start panicking now.

He smells the air, his eyes rolling in his head, and hazily coming back to yours as if he’s becoming high from the air.

“Little queen, I am ancient, even if i couldn’t smell it that you haven’t taken a mate or even a consort yet,” He shakes his head in confusion, “You are wearing that sweet innocence on your being. It is in the way you walk, the way you talk and interact with the world around you,”

“I’ve been.. busy, is all…” You look down before, “Wait, you’ve been… Watching me?” your eyes widen.

“Of course. Such a promising mate for me,” His voice is low and resonates in your body, your breathing picks up even more. You can’t help the heat in your core either. “Run away, little queen,” His toothy grin grows inhumanly wider.

You back up, clawing behind you to guide you as you keep your eyes on him, and he slowly stalks after you.

Fuck! fuck! fuck!

His castle bedroom has a window big enough for even him to fly through, it dwarfs you… Just how big is his dragon form?? you transform and start to fly swiftly away. You have to get away!

You hear his transformation behind you, it whips up the wind giving you a jet stream and his cocky roar vibrates the very air around you.

Good gods! What the fuck!?

You have to turn your head back to look, everything in your bones said to look back, even though you knew you shouldn’t, you couldn’t resist, and that pause gave him enough time to pounce upon you midair.

His ginormous claws rake into your scales, and his teeth find your neck, you roar back at him, threatening him, telling him to stop. His growl shakes your throat, your eyes water. He’s going to do it, he’s really going to steal your virginity. A dragon more than twice your size is mounting you!

“Please!” You shout your voice ringing out through serpentine maw. You feel his tentacle like members slipping under your tail, they lay heavily against your holes. Thankfully they feel wet…

“Beg for me, Little Queen!” the dragon’s voice is thunderous, you think that everyone in the world might hear your shame now. Your people certainly will.

“No!”

Two of his cocks wrap around eachother making a thick drill like shape. While his third lines up stiffly to your asshole, the other two start pushing into your vagina. You desperately flap your wings, until he grabs them and pulls hard, you feel your bones snapping, and scream into the sky.

You feel his heads press deeper and deeper, until something within you breaks, and your body convulses, blood spills even between your dragon thighs. You both spin in the air as you hurdle toward the volcanic ground below. His wings flap once and carry you through the air as he slides fully into you, his third entering your ass at the same time.

your pussy stretches to accommodate him, you suddenly feel so full all at once with the air rushing through your nostrils, you might pass out, but his claws around your sides tighten their grasp, waking you up instantly. No…

You will be shown no mercy.

tears fall down your scaled cheeks.

“Beg for me!”

His dicks drag against your walls, even through the whipping wind around you, you can hear the squelching as he fucks you. You don’t realize but he’s flown you both back to his castle, he lands on top of your body with you crashing into the ground cracking stone and sending a shockwave throughout the castle, and shaking the chandeliers above you.

You watch them sway behind him as he roars still inside of you, he cums. completely filling any crevice left. Just when you were about to sigh in relief he gets back to fucking you. Burying his dicks further inside of you, they hadn’t been all the way inside! His maw finds your shoulder and bites down, blood trickles down your arm.

He flips your significantly smaller body over, and presses a clawed hand on your bulging tummy as his dicks continue to pulverize you.

Until he grabs you by your sides and starts to use your body to fuck himself. Your body burns brighter and brighter until you’re convulsing around him and milking more cum from his still hard cocks pouring more semen inside you at the same time.

Milky white rings are building around his bases in both your holes, but he keeps cumming and using your body, he really does want to breed you! you claw the ground and try to get away again, he just pulls back harder, slamming your body back onto his cocks, it feels like he’s breaking into your cervix!

again he cums his cocks pulsing wildly inside of you, his growling is low, and his hips press as hard into you as physically possible. He pulls out after you cum again, and your body shakes violently needing respite.

you remain as silent as possible, and he returns as a human. He casts something at you that forces your body to twist and shrink until your form matches his, your tiny fleshy prison with the aesthetic matching everything that makes you, you. His over eight feet tall stature stands over you, making you, even as queen feel small and weak.

He grabs you, and pops a cork off of something, and forces a glass bottle into your open mouth. You try and shove him off of you, “It’s a health potion,” He laughs.

“As if I care!!” You’re naked and dripping his cum for the gods’ sakes! “I don’t want anything from you!”

“Youre lucky i don’t just eat you, little queen. i need a brood mother only so much.” He throws you onto the gigantic bed as your wounds are completely healed now, he approaches with a smirk. “These forms are so much fun to play in, aren’t they?”

[annie-creates]

What have I done

Pairing: Queen Ravenna x reader

Genre: angst

Words: 1200

Note: I'm back with some Ravenna angst, hope you'll enjoy it as much as I liked writing it.

For as long as you could remember you always lived at the castle of the king, your mother being one of his and his wife’s most trusted maids. You were still pretty young when the queen died, leaving the old man and his daughter Snow White in distress. You grew up in the happy kingdom of thrill and joy that started to slowly decay with every year you all mourned your late queen. But then, just as you turned into a lovely grown woman and got your own job at the castle, the king found a new wife, queen Ravenna. They all seemed so happy it felt unreal. Not long after however the old king joined his late wife in the gardens of Eden and all that was left was her majesty and the clueless princess, who ran away within the next year.

You could hardly understand it all and the land was unstable in times of such rapid changes. When you became the queen’s own maid, being young and freshly employed, Snow White was already wanted all over the country. To you, however, it wasn’t much concern. Your job was to make sure the queen’s comfortable in her clothes and shoes, massaging her feet and warming up her bed for the night. In the difficult times of doubt and uncertainty you slowly became her confidant. She could tell you anything, knowing you wouldn’t tell, and even if you did, no one would believe such unimportant being as her maid. From a confidant you became her friend and from a friend you build your way un to being her lover. You would never take any inappropriate step but when she invited you to her, how could you say no the most beautiful graceful being you have ever sat your eyes on?

You were still her servant willing to do anything and everything she ever asked for and giving her all you were, all you had and all you could ever get. You were completely and utterly taken by her glory, confidence and pride. It even made you a little proud yourself that the queen chose you over all the other men and women who fell at her feet every minute of the day. You took her joy and anger, anything she needed to release, all her good days and all the bad ones ended up with you being used in her bed. You could hardly ever stay, having to leave her warm cozy chambers to return to your cold and unwelcoming bed with a hard mattress and rat-gnawed pillow the moment she was satisfied with you.

With how fast and wholeheartedly you fell for the woman there was no stopping, no pleasure and no amount of kisses would be ever enough for you. You yearned for her presence and body as hard as the desert yearns for water. You needed her, longed for her at every second of the day. You could merge in the tightest hug on earth, eat each other in the most desperate of kisses and it still wouldn’t be enough. Yet lately it seemed her hunger exceeded yours, she needed release, assurances and the plain feeling of power. You became her most glorious possession, using you and savoring you at any moment she wanted to. With looking for more power and rule over the kingdom she became insatiable.

As you visited her in her throne room, she frantically walked around unable to sit still, her hair flying behind her with every turn like a veil of gold. To you she was still ethereal, the most beautiful of women on this earth. No matter how many worried wrinkles her forehead sported or the stressed pout on her lips. She was like a fairy with a flame that pulled in every moth around. It was obvious to you she was at her wits end, even if she’d never admit to it, being concerned with things you had no idea about.

“My queen.” You address her carefully. “May I help you?”

“Ugh, no. Leave me alone.” She hardly even spared you a glance.

“Maybe I can help you relieve some stress.” You tried again. “At least with a melissa tea?”

“I said get lost!” Ravenna angrily shouts at you and harshly slaps your face. “Now get out of my sight!”

“I’m sorry…” You whine holding your cheek with tears evident in your eyes.

“Oh don’t play that innocent little girl with me you spawn!” your emotional reaction infuriates her even more. “Your father never loved you and your mother rather died so that she didn’t have to be with you anymore. I don’t want to see you here again, you hear me!?”

You could hardly listen to her words anymore, running out of the room to not give her the satisfaction of seeing you cry. She liked hurting you, she liked having the dominant power over anyone. Yet never has she been so cruel and evil to you. At that moment, you believed her. You believed she wanted to get rid of you, to never see you again. So that’s what you did. You packed the few little things you owned and you left, your heart breaking into million little pieces as you left the only home you ever knew and the woman you loved so hard you could die for her. Yet you’d do anything to make her happy and if she desired you gone you’ll leave.

Ravenna on the other hand got her temper under control once again in a few days, establishing somewhat steady rule over her kingdom. All she wanted now was to enjoy a little piece of quiet, preferably with the tea you always made for her with the littlest bit of mint and honey and with your massage and presence. But after she ringed her bell to call you to her, a different girl came in your place, taking care of her with her gaze fixed on the ground.

“Where’s Y/n?” she barked at the girl, her mood immediately worsening.

“I don’t know madam, she left.” The maid answered fearfully.

“What do you mean she left?” no one had the audacity to leave her service on their own.

“She said you expelled her, so she left.” The girl shrugs looking at her queen this time.

“That is ridiculous! Bring me my guard.” She orders the girl who bows to her and leaves.

Not long after comes the commander of her guards, coming up with a plan for your search with her. The army turned every corner of the castle upside down to find you, and they rummage the whole city, but you’re nowhere to be found. Ravenna sends out unit after unit to travel to all the corners of her kingdom to find you, fearing what might happen to you in the wild and dangerous world. She wasn’t sure you were even still in her kingdom or alive, and that worried her infinitely. She didn’t realize how attached she grew to your presence and joyfulness, enjoying your mannerisms and easily pleased outgoing nature.

“What have I done.” She whispers into the darkness of her chambers feeling cold and unwelcoming without you in them.

[honeyynymphh]

An Ever-Fixed Mark

|| Otto Hightower x Fem!Reader/OC || Rating: T (for now) Chapter: 1 of 5 Words: 2.8k

Married to Aemond Targaryen, life at court has not been what Lady Brakenwyn ever imagined. It is monotonous and lifeless inside the Red Keep with a husband who does care for her and who would rather spend coin in the slums of Kings Landing than with his own wife. She can't help but let her mind wander and yearn for the affections of a man who pays her the slightest attention - a man that she cannot have: the Hand of the King. Tags: pining, forbidden romance, infidelity, author is prone to purple prose (tags will be updated as story progresses) Ao3 Link

A/N: This story is in first person so can be read as a reader insert or as an OC, she is not described nor does she have a first name. No Y/N. Reader is married to Aemond but he is barely in the story. I have not read any books so I am operating on vibes mostly. I just want to write about that old man.

How embarrassing it was to be wed to a child. At least, that was what I felt my life had become. While Aemond Targaryen was a man grown, he still clung to the temperament of boyhood and delighted too much in the station he had been born with. The banquet hall was loud and raucous with the sound of happy chatter and laughter. Though I felt no joy as I sat at the large table on my own, watching my husband whisper to some other lady in a dark corner. I knew our marriage was nothing more than a political alliance and also some sort of punishment for the prince. Or perhaps not a punishment, but a desperate hope that he would act more as a prince should if he were wed. So quickly had I seen the foolishness in such a notion that I was surprised anyone had thought our union was a good idea.

I sighed and stared into my wine cup. I wished to be anywhere but here in the Red Keep, and certainly not at this name day celebration for a man I had tried to love and only grown to resent. As soon as I had arrived in King’s Landing I felt as if I didn’t belong. Where I was older than the prince, I felt out of place in court amongst those my own age. The other ladies were polite but we had not grown together so to them I was nothing but an outsider. The queen was kind to me, in a sort of distant fashion. I felt her disappointment in me, as if I could fix Aemond and unite mother and son once more - more foolishness. I snuck a glance at her and could see the annoyance that caused her lovely face to frown as she watched her second son.

“My lady, would you dance with me?”

The words startled me from my musings and I glanced across the table to see Ser Henry, at least I was sure that was his name. I knew him to be one of Prince Aegon’s Kingsguard, though I frequently saw him speaking with Aemond. He seemed to be the only one who even acknowledged my existence. I was certain that my husband had sent him over to me, to entertain me…to keep me happy. Aemond treated me as if I were one of the family’s dragons, not that I was capable of much strength nor fire breathing or flight. But I was capable of making more little baby dragons and that was all my worth had become, not that he put any effort into such an endeavor.

I forced a smile on my face and nodded at the knight, before making my way towards him. I took his proffered hand and let him lead me into the crush of people dancing amongst the glowing candelabras. I barely paid attention to anything but the music, the glorious sound of lutes and harps mingling together to create such beautiful sounds as I let him lead me across the floor. This I knew would be the closest I ever came to flying, no matter how hard I prayed to the gods to give me wings so I could leave this place.

“He says you should try and look happy,” whispered Ser Henry, his lips barely moving.

My face twitched but I mostly kept it blank as I stared at a point over his armoured shoulder.

“Maybe he should try and make me happy,” I said.

“Lady Brakenwyn.”

It was just my name, my old name, but it was a warning. The ‘Lady from the Riverlands’ was all I was to those in King’s Landing, even though I had not set foot there since I had been a child. As a ward of House Hightower, I had spent most of my life in Oldtown and had assumed I’d be promised to someone in the Reach. How I wish my mother hadn’t been such a scheming woman and my father so happy let her do as she pleased.

“He will send you back to the Riverlands.”

In a box, was clearly left unsaid. Foolishness on my part, that had been, to think my mother would be content with a match from a noble house in the Reach. No, my houses’ army and fealty was worth a Prince.

I held my tongue, not wishing to argue when I knew it would be in vain. It was pointless the threats, I knew they needed my parents fealty and would not displease House Brakenwyn by sending back their only child in a wooden casket. How stupid I had been a year ago to think coming to King’s Landing would be like in the stories, that I would be happy to be wed to a prince and to live in such a castle with the rulers of Westeros. How I missed how hopeful and joyous I had been before coming here.

But I would not let my melancholy ruin one of my only pleasures as Ser Henry continued to sweep me across the stone floor, his steps were a little erratic and his grip unsure but it improved my mood drastically. The music changed, the melody becoming more upbeat and while I could not recall the name of it, I knew it well. It was accompanied by a simple dance that involved changing partners and swinging steps, it was the sort of dance better suited for warm nights outside, not trapped in a stone room. But that didn’t deter me, I was happy as I switched Ser Henry to dance with a stout but cheerful nobleman, red in the face from drink who laughed heartily as he spun me around. I couldn't help but laugh in response to his merriment, even as he repeatedly stood on my feet. My spirits grew when I heard the sound of Princess Helaena’s laughter drift towards me. My head turned to see her as she danced with her grandfather, who smiled at her in such a way that I wished so desperately to have bestowed upon my own person.

It would not do for me to stare, and I did try not to, but I couldn’t help it as the dance drew us near. Helaena smiled dreamily at me, as was her way, before I was suddenly in the arms of the Hand of the King. Unlike the unsure grip of Ser Henry and the over eagerness of the drunken nobleman, Otto Hightower held me with an assuredness and reverence that made my heart swell. The Hand was one of the few people I spoke to at length, as I frequently saw him in the castle library. His gentle manner and keen mind had managed to captivate me, and though I knew it was fatuous to have such thoughts about a man, not only so much older than I, but the grandfather of my own husband, I could do nothing to stop the growing fondness I felt for him.

I smiled at him, unable to help how earnest it was despite my inner admonishments. Afterwards, I would pray that he only thought my exuberance due to the dancing and not him. I didn’t wish to embarrass myself. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately in the case of idiotic fantasies, I was back with Ser Henry, watching as Ser Otto and Helaena were lost in the crowd.

“That’s better, my lady,” said Ser Henry at the expression on my face. “You look so much prettier when you smile. Perhaps you should dance more often.”

I merely nodded in response, it was pointless to speak any further.

When my feet throbbed, no thanks to the drunken nobleman, I returned to the high table and gave my thanks to Alicent, who had been busy attentively whispering in the King’s ear, before slinking out of the Great Hall and to my chambers. I had no desire to speak to Aemond, I had already given him my well wishes in the morning and that had been received as well as anything I ever said to him, which was mostly indifference.

It was much cooler in the empty corridors of the Keep and the silence a welcome respite from the manic noise of the celebrations. I walked distractedly until I pushed through the heavy door and into my room. My chambers were linked to Aemond’s, though it was a passage several feet in length with a heavy door at each end. His door was frequently locked. At first I had locked my own until I realised he had a key and would let himself in, usually to cast judgements upon me. I thought our shared interest in reading would have brought us close but all it did was earn his ire. He didn’t trust me and I had learnt not to trust him. I did not know where Aegon spent most of his nights, or more aptly, whom he spent them with. But I did not care, as long as he left me alone.

The next day dawned slowly, the sun's rays gradually filtering through the high windows of the windows of the Red Keep as if she too were reluctant to rise from her bed. I usually awoke early, preferring to spend the morning in the godswood as it was often empty, though I allowed myself a longer rest after the nights dancing. The bird calls were gentle and the breeze soft when I reached the godswood. Sometimes out here I could pretend I was not trapped in a prison of stone as I sat on a bench and let the wind gently caress my face, the fresh air lifting my spirits. It was a tranquil place that felt disconnected from the Red Keep in a way that I relished. I had chosen a dress of periwinkle blue, I so rarely wore the colours of House Targaryen - a small rebellion on my part, and I admired the way the sunlight made the fabric glitter, reminding me of the Honeywine River during twilight.

I did not linger long as I knew Ser Otto would be in the library at this time, he did not spend every day there but I had learnt his routine without even thinking to do so. Every so often, I made sure to arrive either early or late, so that it would not seem as if I followed him like some unwanted shadow. Perhaps all we would say to each other would be a greeting, but it was enough to keep my melancholy at bay. There were few comfortable chairs but many tables, usually covered in scrolls and other texts. Ser Otto was fond of a small desk in one of the alcoves as it was near a high window, the light filtering through making it easier to read. One of the few chairs that were nearby was my favourite as it allowed me to curl within it like a cat so I could read and bask in the warmth of the sunshine. I hadn’t even noticed him the first time we had shared that little alcove.

I took my usual spot, opening the book I had been reading and settled in. The Hand had not arrived yet and I was uncertain as to whether he would come today after last night. I knew a council meeting would be held soon and surely he would prefer to rest before attending. But my disappointment at these thoughts were short lived when I heard his measured footsteps, I knew the sound by heart. I pretended not to notice him until his low and soft gravelly words greeted me. That was all we said before he sat down to work. I did not ask what he did, I didn’t think it was my business to enquire into the workings of the Hand of the King, but I was glad for it.

I shouldn’t have observed him as closely as I did. My eyes shouldn’t have lingered over the way his hand held the quill and how deftly it would sweep across the page as he took notes. Occasionally, while reading, he would lick the tip of his finger so he could turn a page. I’d feel my breath stick in my throat then as if I could feel his mouth upon my own body. Aemond rarely lay with me, I think I could count upon one hand the few times we had been together as husband and wife. But when we had, he had been so bare, so smooth—the only hair on him that which was on his head. If it wasn’t for his eye, he would be a blank canvas. Ser Otto looked worn in the way that a favourite book did. There were stories there. How I yearned deep in the pit of my belly to trace the lines of his face and to feel his beard scratch against my inner thigh.

I took in a shuddering breath at that thought and looked away, feeling the heat suffuse my face. I knew he was looking at me then and I heard the creak of his chair as he came to stand before me.

“My lady, are you well?” His low voice rumbled and I nodded my head in response. “Are you certain?”

I gathered my scattered wits and looked up at him. “Yes, my lord hand.”

He smiled at me, a small but reassuring quirk of the lips. I treasured it, even though I knew it was nothing more than some sort of perfunctory affection on his part. I was the wife of one of his grandchildren and from a house aligned with the Hightowers. I knew this to be true yet I could not squash the terrible hope within me that he meant it.

I knew I needed to stop this ridiculous fascination. But I clung to it, even more so in the nights. When I lay alone and in the silence of the Keep, with nothing more than the sound of rain pouring against the glass panes, I would think of him and pretend he held me. That he would whisper such sweet things in my ear and offer comfort that I had not felt in years…comfort I don’t think I’d ever truly felt.

Perhaps it was the unattainable nature of it all that enthralled me so. It was a safe dream to have, even though it gnawed at my guilty conscience. Why should I not have such thoughts? It wasn’t as if I were the one spending most nights in the Street of Silk. Even if I had shared a room with my husband, I would have been alone.

The seventh day was tomorrow and I knew I would have to pray even harder for my fanciful mind. I looked down at the book in my lap and tried to go back to the passage I was reading but I barely took a word in.

“It was good to see you enjoying the evening’s festivities during Aemond’s name day celebrations.”

I looked up at Ser Otto again to find his attention was still fixed on me as he waited for my response.

“You dance very well,” I said, wishing I had something more intelligent to say.

“For an old man?”

I blanched and hastily tried to correct his assumptions. “No! I didn’t mean that, Lord Hand, I was simply expressing my commendation.” I shifted awkwardly in my chair. “I do not think you are old.”

The man smiled, an eyebrow raising in amusement. I realised suddenly he had been jesting with me.

“It’s been a long time,” he said with a sigh, “but if your only comparison is Ser Henry and Lord Lyrmount, then I would seem full of grace.” He smiled again at me, it was small but conspiratorial in the way it lingered about his mouth. “I hope your feet have recovered well enough.”

“Yes, thank you,” I replied even as my feet throbbed in remembrance of Lord Lyrmount's clumsy steps.

He said no more and I knew our conversation ended for the day, but how I treasured it and the small but pleasurable smiles he had given me. He packed his things then, I noted how neatly he always did so, and I was constantly drawn to the precise movements of his hands and tried to ignore the thoughts of said hands touching my skin with the same careful reverence that he gave those old books.

As he left, I felt I had achieved something momentous with him being able to jest with me, as if I were waging some little war for his affection - despite how foolhardy the battle was. I tried to tell myself he merely tolerated me because of my marriage but I couldn’t help but think he did like me, in a way. He could have sat anywhere else in the library or avoided me completely - I knew there was ample space in the Tower of the Hand and he had no need to be here.

I smiled to myself at this small victory and happily returned to my book as the footsteps of the Hand faded into the distance.

A/N: I wrote a lot of this with COVID brain fog so I apologise if anything makes no sense.

Title is from Sonnet 116 by Shakespeare

[comfortless]

hello beloved 🥰 🫶 every time you mention ‘The Dungeon’ whatever da hell that is my brain just goes dungeon crawler! könig! dungeon crawler! könig! so might i request a dungeon crawling könig?

what the hell. do not send König down here… get him away from me…. *immediately forgets everything else i was doing to begrudgingly write this*

sigh… dungeoneer! König x fem! reader

content / warnings: violence, sexism, suggestive.

Retrieving the golden eye of a wyrm to be made into a lovely pendant for the Queen would pay well, keep him afloat and drifting from land to land for long enough to decide upon where to settle. The posting tacked to the wall of the inn, detailing a handsome reward, was surely the sign from a benevolent god that a glorious fate had been handed to him on a silver platter. He stuffs the parchment into the pocket of his trousers as he downs the last of his ale, tosses his coins to the barmaid on his way toward the door and sets off for the deepest dungeon in the kingdom.

There are no bright-eyed knights lobbying around the entrance, a good sign that the wyrm’s bounty was all his to claim. It makes him elated, really, and the idea of finally having his own place, bedding down with a pretty maiden each night is even more of an adrenaline rush than the actual fighting that comes the moment he steps foot into the darkened underworld. The dungeon is filled with the reanimated skeletons he’s grown so accustomed to— a quick jab with his claymore to the center of the spine leaves them a crumpled heap of bone and dust. They’ll rise again when the moon hangs lofty in the sky, but he’s done this enough times to know the best way of navigating such a place. The other beasts haunting the cavernous ruins are a bit trickier to deal with, and he’s fortunate that most shy away from the light of his torch.

Only, she does not.

The woman standing before him in full plate armor is poised for battle, blade making a steady ascent above her head in preparation to strike as her lantern is cast aside. She charges at him before he can even breathe out a word of protest, swinging the heavy sword at him so quickly that at most, he can only thrust his torch before him to prevent her plunging the tip between his ribs. She’s quick to draw back when the wood splinters and the fire sparks up on dry bone and the tattered remains of clothing from all that came before layered upon the dirt and grime coated floor. The blaze of the fire seems pale in comparison to the flames in her eyes as she pivots towards him again, and once more— he merely blocks.

“A maiden shouldn’t be here,” he says through gritted teeth as he easily pushes her back against the wall, caging her between the flat of his blade and the bulk of his body.

He hadn’t realized the ache in his groin until the woman tilts her head up to spit in his face. König doesn’t bother to wipe it away, to even pretend to be disgusted by her actions. From this small breadth between them all he sees is divine beauty— even as her eyes narrow like that of a viper preparing to strike.

“A knight to be,” she corrects him as he gives her blade a shove, the sounds of steel hissing against steel and crackling fire echoing throughout the cavern.

“Not likely.”

Their fight drags on for what feels like hours before his flask his split at his hip and she finally does back down. Even this lady knows well enough that being lost in a dark dungeon with no source of light and no water is a death sentence, and she finds him both incredibly frustrating and fun enough to keep him a live just a little longer. He’s adept enough to block even her quickest strikes, parry her with a gentle jab to her side with his index rather than his blade. He’s shown her her own weak points during their little battle, and she’s garnered a bit of respect for him for that.

As she sheaths her blade and locks eyes with him, his erection is practically trying to tear through the seams of his pants. She’s so pretty, so strong, so unlike the barmaids and damsels in distress he’s come across so often and it’s all gnawing at the recesses of his mind. The bounty almost entirely forgotten, he wants not to penetrate the wyrm with his blade but rather spear her with his cock.

He reaches for her, almost tentatively hoping to somehow melt through her armor and feel the warmth of her flesh. She’s doesn’t pull away when his hands rest against her waist, just gives him a little flutter of her eyelashes before rearing a hand back to almost playfully strike his face just before she turns on the heel of her boot and gathers her lantern.

König follows along behind her, not just out of necessity, but because she asks him to. Beckons him along with the curl of her gloved finger, coos at him when he falls behind trying to picture her body beneath the layers of chainmail and fitted steel.

“I’m taking the bounty,” she tells him when they stop to take a sip from her flask, feast on the preserved fruit and dried meat from his own satchel.

It reminds him of why he’s come all this way, what he’s supposed to be doing here. He’s a little tense— on one hand he wants to give this lady the entire kingdom, make her his wife and rid away those silly thoughts about becoming a knight, but she’s so determined!! He’s at a loss on how to tell her that there are no women knights in the land, that no matter what she brings back for the King she’ll probably only be mocked and sent on her way.

“Let me help you,” he says instead.

“You would lend me your blade?”

He just blinks at her… this silly woman has spent far too long dreaming and watching the knights in the castle yard, he just knows it. Down to the way she speaks! She’s incredible and infuriating, just as he is to her. It makes him want to push her just a bit, see what she’s capable of entirely before they part ways (she is never getting rid of him).

“What do I get in turn?”

The little knight mulls that over for a moment, as she leads him down a long corridor; everything all gilded and decorated, lit aglow by the dim orange of lantern light. The golden coins, rolls of fine silk now muddied and trampled littering the floor are enough of a sign to show they’ve nearly made their way to the heart. The wyrm would no doubt be lying in wait at the end, resting protectively over its hoard of cattle bones and shiny objects, golden eyes piercing through the darkness as it prepares for the fight to come.

It’s when the wyrm’s first hissing growl rings out through the darkness that she does turn back to face him, a mischievous little grin tugging at her lips.

“Only to live another day.”

“Nein… something else.”

He can’t stop himself from pawing at her again, curling a hand around her neck to tilt her chin up to face him. Her breath fanning over his face, her scent like peony and lantern oil make him feel drunk enough. The hand that slides between his legs to grasp at his cock is far from anything he ever anticipated from her. She was bold, too bold and too pretty for her own good.

Fate had blessed him more than he could even begin to fathom, after all.

[danibee33]

The Queen’s Guard - Chapter 6: Promise

knight!simon riley x queen!reader

word count: 2.5k

[<<< chapter 5]

For the first time, in longer than you can remember, you don’t dread the morning sun. You watch it crest the horizon, feel its warmth radiate on your skin, bask in its dewey light- bathing you in a delightful glow.

And it feels so surreal, like you’re surely doomed to wake from this dream, like the strong arms that had held you so tightly, and the lips that kissed yours so passionately, were only figments of your imagination. Yet, when you reach out, your fingers graze over the very real, and very smooth, cold, dark surface of Simon’s helmet still sitting on your bedside table; unmoved since he had retrieved it from the balcony hours ago-

“It’s real, My Queen..” You suck in a breath at the thick rasp of Simon’s voice in your ear, earning you a sweet chuckle, the arm around your waist pulling you closer so he can bury his nose into the soft hair at the nape of your neck, “‘m sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

A deep sigh parts your lips at the way he feels, how solid and hot his body is wrapped around yours, his breath sneaking beneath the collar of your nightgown,

“Tell me,” You say, wriggling yourself even further against him, “can you read minds, Ser Simon?”

Your question riles a deep and genuine laugh from him this time, though he does his best to keep it quiet, only for your ears, and hopefully none that dare to pry-

“Why?” He asks, gently tugging you to turn over, “Somethin’ up here you wouldn’t want me to know?”

Smiles pull at both your lips when he taps your temple with the pad of his finger, and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen something as glorious as Simon’s dimpled smirk- Gods, why would he ever hide under that helmet.. it’s a fleeting thought, but one you hope to learn the answer to eventually. Hm, eventually, when is that? How much time do you really have with him? What could possibly-

“Hey..” His calloused palm settles over your cheek, thumb tracing a soft, back and forth pattern, his eyes narrowed in concern, “What is it? I lost you..”

Such a simple question, and such a simple statement, but they feel incomprehensible. That you could have given your life to man for years, and he still knows nothing of you, thinks nothing of you- but Simon, who has only been with you for a handful of months, has somehow learned you, maybe even better than you know yourself.

You rest your palm over his hand, unsure of what to say, or where it could possibly go; his promise ringing in your ears, reverberating through your marrow and bones-

“I’m goin’ to get you out of here. I swear it.”

“If we leave.. Where will we go?”

“When we leave..” His voice is steady and hardly above a whisper, the tip of his nose grazing over yours, “We’ll go wherever you like. The coast, inland, mountains, and forests- we’ll see it all.”

“But.. Simon- the King..”

So, so sweetly, you feel him pull your head forward just enough to crush his lips against yours- effectively silencing all your relentless thoughts, even if only for this glorious moment. Because it’s so easy to be consumed in him, in his power and his gentility, his brutish strength and the way he holds you as if you were made of the most precious and rare element he knew. And once again, you feel your body giving in to him- feel the tightness gather in your belly, and the ache grow between your legs. You want him, in every way that a woman can want a man- but all too soon, he’s pulling away again, his forehead pressing against yours,

“I will deal with the King, sweet girl.” He studies you, biting harshly at his bottom lip before glancing behind you towards the sunrise, “I have to dress- your hand maid will be here soon.”

You know you should let go of him, but it feels like you only just got him- and your stubborn heart wins against the logic of your mind as you lean into him again, kissing him with a little more urgency, a fervor behind your actions that he gives into, but only for a moment. He holds you back, eyes clenched shut in a silent battle all his own,

“Little Queen, you might think me a better man than I am..” He practically groans out the words, reaching down to hitch your thigh up over his hip, pushing his pelvis forward so that his want and arousal are made quite evident to you, “But, I beg of you, not here.. Not yet.”

There’s nothing in his words or his tone that could lead you to believe he doesn’t want all the same things you do, nothing about the hard length that presses against your cunt that could possibly make you believe he isn’t holding on by the thinnest of threads, trying his damnedest to be good to you- so that you’ll never, ever think that he simply wants your body and nothing else.

“Ok, Simon..” You nod, letting him press one more kiss to your lips, one so full of pining and longing, that it threatens to steal the air from your lungs as you reluctantly relent your hold on him so that you both could sit up, a little breathless and out of sorts.

But even though you’ve parted, it doesn’t stop him from planting a few more chaste kisses over your jaw and cheekbone before tearing himself away, allowing you to watch as he moves across the room. Seeing him only in his thin base layers is enough to raise your heart rate, remembering how you helped him shed his bulky armor last night- and now, you watch ardently as he picks it up and puts it back on, piece by piece- the thick muscles of his back and shoulders rippling and flexing with every practiced movement.

And, far quicker than you like, he’s sauntering towards your side of the bed, where you’ve sat so entranced by him- seeing him once more covered by the heavy steel plates, the ones that only make him larger than life, that make his already broad frame almost unnaturally bigger, his pitch black cloak billowing behind him,

“I’ll assume my post like always,” Simon says with a low tone, taking your bare hand in his gloved one just so he can place a gentlemanly kiss to the soft, pale skin, grabbing his helmet when he lets go.

You stand, looking up at him- committing every wonderful feature and flaw to memory before it’s covered again,

“And I’ll have a raven sent to Clan MacTavish, he can help us-”

But Simon shifts on his feet, your hand still engulfed by his own, “Are you sure, My Queen?”

And you can see the way his dark brows furrow behind the helmet, he doesn’t trust Johnny, but you can understand his apprehension- he doesn’t know the Scot like you do, and if what you think is going to happen, there can be no loose ends in what’s to come.

“Yes, I’m sure. There’s not a soul that we could trust more, Simon. I promise.”

This time, it’s you who lifts his hand to your lips, kissing the black leather as if to seal your own words- something a proper queen should never do, but the warmth that spreads through you when you see his eyes widen slightly makes you want to do it again and again.

He gives you a nod, not allowing himself the chance to waste anymore time, because gods know he would never leave you if given the option- but he must. There is much to plan, much to do, too many seeds of doubt to sow in far too short a time.

Johnny’s POV——

Work. That’s what it feels like for Johnny to come home. There’s no rest for the weary, no, not at the MacTavish estate, they’d never dream of allowing such a luxury-

Buncha fuckin’ dobbers they can be.. I swear.

Yet, he greets them all the same. Giving his Da a stiff, one-armed hug, exchanging the traditional three harsh pats to the back before moving down the path towards his childhood home.

“You’ll tell us about yer visit to court, won’t ye, Johnny?”

A warm smile spreads over his face as he looks down at his youngest sister, throwing an arm lazily over her shoulder,

“Well, hi to you, too, El..” Johnny teases, ruffling her dark brown curls playfully, “I’ll give ye all the juicy gossip tomorrow- after we get some shut eye, eh?” he says, nodding at the maid as they cross the grand threshold, “And I wan’ tae hear about this new constellation ye’ve discovered, my wee little genius!”

Elsie giggles and tries to escape his hold, going on about him being a numpty- all smiles and laughter until the most senior Lord MacTavish blows out a loud scoff,

“Enough o’ that, you two. Elsie, go on, need tae talk tae yer brother.”

She shies away almost too quickly, and it makes his stomach turn, seeing the flash of fear in her eyes as she gives his side one more weak squeeze before flitting off up the stairs-

“Been a long few days, Da. ‘M right ready for a bed-“

The door to the Lord’s study slams shut, cerulean eyes pinning Johnny down in an instant,

“I dinnae give two shites ‘bout how long it’s been, son. I told ya, if you were comin’ back here, ye’d better have a wife in tow.”

Johnny rolls his eyes- big mistake.

His father is a big man, and he’s never had an issue using his size against the lot of them- Johnny being the eldest, all the way down the line, and even their Ma, gods rest her soul.

Which is how he ends up with his back shoved against the closest wall,

“Mind yer fuckin’ attitude with me, boy.” He spits the words, making sure Johnny knows just how little he still in his father’s eyes, “Ye think yer someone big and important out there, huh? Think the army made ye tough, gave ye a big heid, that it? Well, dinnae forget who-“

But, see, Johnny isn’t that little boy anymore, he isn’t that frightened little teenager constantly in fear of the good Lord MacTavish’s thumb crushing him under its weight. His time in the army has treated him well, in fact. He’s bigger, taller, stronger, and faster- and too much time spent on the front lines has made his skin thick and calloused.

With a deep snarl, Johnny is quick to grab the older man by his collar and reverse their positions before he even knows what’s happening,

“Tha’s not how this works anymore, m’lord.”

If Johnny could sketch the shock and surprise in his father’s eyes, he would- hells, he might, because it’s a beautiful sight. One he thinks he’ll remember for a long, long time to come-

“And if I hear one more cross word out of yer filthy fuckin’ mouth, I’ll cut yer tongue out m’self. Is that clear?”

Matching blue eyes stay locked in a silent battle, young and old, a battle as old as times itself, father and son going head to head, a true fight for dominance.

The old lord’s lips curls in anger and disdain, his breath hot and laden with the thick scent of Scotch,

“Ah..” he coos, a chuckle bubbling from his barreled chest, “Aren’t ye a big hotshot, spent time with the little traitorous Scottish queen herself and suddenly yer invincible, that it?”

Johnny growls right back, pulling his father forward before slamming him against the solid wood even harder, “What? And yer still mad it wasn’t one of yer daughters, huh?”

The lord struggles against his hold, but turns out, the boorish old man isn’t all that strong anymore- at least not stronger than his son, which only enrages him more,

“I’m only here to settle my inheritance, ye insufferable old bastard. We’ll talk tomorrow, when ye think ye can speak to me like an equal-“

Johnny lowers his tone to something heavier, his voice dripping with malice, “and there will be none of this, ye won’t put yer hands on me, and I willnae put mine on you. Aye?”

A long silence stretches across the space between them, a heated pause, one that threatens to explode on a hair trigger- and maybe, it’s not actually that long, maybe it’s really only a few seconds, glaring daggers into his own father’s eyes before the old man gives a hateful, “Aye.”, in return.

And if Johnny just so happens to shove the self-righteous old cunt into the wall one more time for good measure, well- that’s between him and the gods he chooses to answer to. But, fuck all if it didn’t feel good to do it.

——

When he finally gets to his room, it’s a disparaging sight- dusty and stale, not a thing changed since he left years ago. And he wishes so badly to feel peace, to feel warmth and love in the place that he should feel all those things and more- in the place he did feel all those things when Ma was still alive.

Yet, it’s just sad and cold now, just how it was when he left. But, a smile does tug at his lips when he unlatches the case Sunny had sent home with him, packed to the brim with treats and fine fabrics and leathers. Some for him and each of his sisters, and an abundance of spares that would last them for a long while-

“Yer too good to us, Grianach..” he mumbles, popping a delightful, citrusy sweet in his mouth as he continues to unpack.

And it takes a while, but eventually he pulls a lone envelope from under a primly wrapped hunting vest, one of the finest he’s ever laid his hands on- the dark brown leather soft as butter in his fingers as he lays it to the side with care.

The bone white paper is thick and stiff, royal stationary that he knows well from letters and messages he’s gotten from her before; the edge sealed with a deep green wax crest- the king’s crest. It brings a disgusted grimace to his face, thinking of the last days with her, the terrible, mottled bruises on her skin- it makes him ill to his stomach to remember.

But, with a deep sigh, he gently pulls the seal apart- recognizing her handwriting right away- though, the farther he reads, the more his guts twist and wrench, the harder his heart beats and the less air it feels like he can suck into his seizing lungs-

No.. no, no, no. This isn’t right, it can’t be- not you, not my Sunny. How could you not tell me? Why didn’t you tell me how much pain you were in-

My dearest Johnny,

I pray this letter finds you well, cousin. And, I pray for your understanding in what I feel I must do, not only for myself, but more importantly, for you. Though.. I do not think you will see it that way, and I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry, Johnny. You’ve been my best friend since my first memories, never letting me forget that you’re one month and one day older than me, or that you learned to ride a horse first- remember sneaking out to the stables? I thought Mother would kill us both when you brought me back home covered in scrapes and muck. Oh, I miss the simplicity of those days, I miss it so much it hurts. That life I had for just a moment, where I was free and untethered- or well, I thought I was. And, I suppose, perception is what really matters, isn’t it?

That is what I’ve been taught my whole life, afterall, perception is key. That I must be at my best, presented in a pretty, pretty package- pleasing to the eye and well groomed enough so that the masses may never know the chaos that lies beneath the silks and jewels.

Well, my sweet Johnny, no more. I won’t do it, I will not be scruffed by the neck any longer, I will not live as a possession, an item, an object that only exists to be pretty and used. I am more than that, and I pray.. I pray you forgive me, I pray you are not disappointed, I pray that you remember me only as I was, and not what I have become. Remember me covered in scrapes and muck with a broad smile on my face and joy in my heart. That is the real me, not this fallacy that everyone thinks they know.

I have a trusted courier at the ready, the few earthly possessions I own that mean anything to me are to be delivered to the estate. They are yours. We always shared everything anyway, no need in changing that now. Be well, cousin.

All my love, your Sunny.

[chapter 7>>>]

taglist: @spxctorsslxt

[morri-draws]

Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 13

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 3,795

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Read on Ao3

The next morning after breakfast, you draft a pattern for your new gown, then start making a mock-up. By sunset, the mock-up is sewn and has been tried on about four times, adjustments being made in between, until at last you are happy with it.

The next day, you cut the pattern pieces from silk and begin sewing the proper gown, working non-stop after breakfast until you are interrupted by a knock at your door. You put down your needle and cross the room, opening the door to find Gwaine looking back at you.

“You’re up and about!” You exclaim.

“And glad of it too. I was beginning to wonder if one could die of boredom,” He replies. “Anyway, want to walk down to the market with me and get some lunch?”

“Isn’t it a little early for lunch?”

Gwaine quirks a brow. “I don’t believe so. This is about the usual time,”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been so focused, I didn’t realise how much time has passed,”

“You’ve been working? I thought you’d finished the king and queen’s attire?”

“I did. I’m working on something for myself,”

“For the feast?”

“Yes,”

Gwaine peers over your shoulder. “May I see?”

“No, you may not,” You give a sly smile as you close the door a little, so it’s just wide enough for your face. “I want it to be a surprise,”

He crosses his arms. “Now you’ve got me curious,”

“Well, you’ll have to be patient,” You smirk. “Wait here. I’ll just grab my shawl and then we can go,”

~

Gwaine asks you to show him where you bought the pies for the indoor picnic, so you lead him to the shop and he purchases one for each of you. You sit on a bench just outside the shop to eat them, before heading back up market street. Gwaine seems to take an interest in the market stalls, his eyes darting over their wares.

“Looking for something in particular?” You ask.

“Hmm?” Gwaine snaps to attention. “Oh, not really. Just taking in all that our glorious city has to offer,” He grins.

You continue up market street at a leisurely pace, allowing yourself time to peruse since Gwaine seems to be doing so.

“It’s so good to see you up and about again,” You say once you reach the end of the traders’ stalls. “Does your wound still cause you any pain?”

“Occasionally, if I move a certain way,” Gwaine replies. “But it’s mostly alright,”

“I’m so thankful Merlin helped,” You sigh, dreading to think what the outcome may have been if he hadn’t.

“Merlin?” Gwaine frowns. “It was Gaius who healed me,”

“He did initially, yes. But whatever he was doing wasn’t working fast enough. Him and Merlin argued about how to treat you, and Merlin had to apply his remedy behind Gaius’ back,”

“Well, I’ll make sure to thank Merlin then,” Gwaine smiles. “Sounds like you were quite the regular visitor to my bedside,”

“Of course I was, I was worried sick! I… thought you might die,”

Gwaine halts and takes your hand in his, giving it a firm squeeze. “It means a lot that you were there with me,” He says seriously, before smiling. “But it’ll take a lot more than bandits to get rid of me,”

Your hand remains in his as you continue up the street.

“Merlin said you tended to me while I was unconscious, helped keep my fever down,” Gwaine says.

You nod.

“Spent a lot of time seeing me shirtless,” He smirks.

Your cheeks flood with warmth.

“Did you like what you saw?” Gwaine asks, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You give him a playful shove. “Being improper, and fishing for compliments,” You shake your head, but can’t hold back a smile. “I shan’t say anything,”

“I shall take that as a yes,”

“You’ll do no such thing!”

You continue walking, biting your bottom lip to hold back your grin, while Gwaine keeps step beside you, looking very amused and pleased with himself.

It’s not until you arrive at your chambers that you realise your hand remained entwined with Gwaine’s the entire way back. He unthreads his fingers and hooks his hand under yours, raising it to his lips. He plants a soft but lengthy kiss at the base of your fingers, his eyes locked onto yours. Your heart thumps as you hold his gaze, a flare of desire tearing through your body. He pulls his lips away and he lowers your hand, but still holds it in his.

“I shall leave you to your secret business now, my lady,”

At last, he pulls his hand away from yours, agonisingly slowly, so his fingers caress your skin from your palm to your fingertips, until the contact is finally broken. Heat pools in your core, the skin on your hand buzzing, as if it can still feel his touch. Gwaine gives you a warm but slightly mischievous smile, as if he knows exactly what kind of reaction he has stirred within you, before he turns and heads down the corridor, disappearing around a corner. You step into your chambers, resting your back against the door as you close it behind you, relishing the pleasant sensation coursing through you. You raise your hand to your face, the feeling of his lips still lingering on your fingers, and press it against your cheek, longing for more of his touch. You recall the long talk between you those days ago, the feeling of his arms around you when you were upset, and wish for him to hold you again, but in a moment of joy rather than sorrow.

You stand with those feelings for a time, unaware how many minutes have passed, until your heartbeat settles and you come to your senses. You must refocus your thoughts. You have a lot of work to do before the feast.

~

You spend the last few hours of daylight sewing before stopping to make dinner. Your thoughts remain on the gown as you eat, visualising it finished and how you will look in it, but your imaginings stop short at one detail: your hair. What are you to do with it? You can’t wear your cap to an event like this. Not only is it inappropriate for the occasion, it will completely ruin the look. But your hair length is also inappropriate for any occasion. You would be gawked at and you’d be an embarrassment.

Once you’ve finished washing up, you go to your bedchamber and sit in front of the mirror, unpinning your cap and removing it. Your hair has grown some since it was cut, but nowhere near enough to be socially acceptable. Your mood darkens as you wonder if you should bother continuing with the gown, and the part of you that still fears Gwaine will find your true appearance repellent rises to the surface.

You stare back at your reflection, hair flat and frizzy from being under the cap all day. You tear your gaze away, fists clenched, and prepare for bed.

~

You continue on the gown the next day, though your mind drifts and progress is slow, since your previous ambition has dwindled. As your length of thread is running short, you finish your current line of stitching and fiddle with the needle between your fingers, trying to decide whether you should rethread it or stop for the day, when there’s a knock at your door. Placing the needle down, you stand and cross the room, opening the door to find Gwen.

“I just thought I’d check in,” She smiles. “I haven’t seen you since receiving my gown,”

“I’m sorry, I’ve been busy. Though I still should have made time for you,” You step aside to allow Gwen to enter.

“It’s quite alright. Have you been spending a lot of time with a certain knight?” She raises a brow mischievously.

“I have,” You admit, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “But I’ve also been working on my own gown for the harvest feast,”

“Oh, may I see?”

You nod and lead Gwen to your work table where the gown is currently laid out, though a bit crumpled.

“That’s coming along nicely,” Gwen carefully smooths out the fabric with her hands, inspecting your work. “I can’t wait to see when it’s finished,”

She looks up at you with a smile, but upon seeing your expression, and your lack of response, her smile falters.

“Are you not happy with it?”

“It’s not that, it’s just,” You sigh. “I don’t know what to do about this,”

You remove your cap, hair falling against your neck and brushing along your collarbones. Gwen approaches, lifting a hand and running a lock of your hair through her fingers.

“It’s grown some,” She says.

“But not nearly enough,”

Gwen’s gaze wanders over your hair thoughtfully. “Have you ever curled your hair before?”

“No,”

“I wonder if we should try it, then it wouldn’t look so flat. I think once it’s got a bit of curl to it, it could look quite pretty,”

“Perhaps,” You shrug. “But I don’t know how to do that. I’ve never been good at styling hair,”

“Well, I am. I did used to be a lady’s maid,” She smiles and glances toward your fabric shelves. “Do you have any linen scraps?”

“I should have something,” You walk over to the shelves and rummage through the collection of fabric, until you find a square scrap of white linen. “Will this do?”

“That will do very nicely,” Gwen holds out her hand and you pass her the linen. “May I borrow your scissors?” She asks.

“Of course,” You retrieve them from your sewing box and give them to her.

Gwen thanks you and she lays out the piece of fabric on a clear section of your work table, before cutting it into strips. Once all the fabric is cut, she stacks the strips into a neat pile.

“Wet your hair tonight,” She says. “But don’t soak it. It needs to be just damp. I’ll come back after dinner and show you what to do. This can be a trial run. If you like the results, we can repeat the process the night before the harvest feast. If not, we can try something else,”

~

Gwen arrives at your chambers about an hour after you finish your dinner, and you carry a chair to your bedchamber, Gwen refusing one for herself since she says it’ll be easier to do the process while standing. You place the chair in front of the mirror and sit, while Gwen arranges the fabric strips and comb on the vanity. She takes a section of hair in one hand, and with the other, places one of the strips, which is much longer than the hair, beside it, then wraps the lock of hair round the strip in a spiral. Once the entire length of the hair has been coiled around, Gwen holds it in place with one hand, while with the other, she wraps the remaining length of fabric around the hair, working from the bottom up this time, until the hair is completely covered, then ties the two ends of the strips together, securing the hair inside. She repeats this process until all your hair is secured.

“While you sleep tonight, your hair shall dry and set into the curls,” Gwen says, looking at you through the mirror, a hand on your shoulder. “Take them out tomorrow and see. It might look silly at first, as they will require a fair bit of brushing, but I think you will like the result,”

You reach up and rest your hand over Gwen’s. “Thank you for this,”

“You are welcome,” She smiles. “I shall leave you to enjoy the rest of your night. I might stop by tomorrow to see how our little experiment has gone,”

~

After breakfast the next morning, you return to the mirror and remove the rags from your hair, revealing tight ringlets. You are alarmed at first, but remember what Gwen said about brushing, so you pick up your hairbrush from beside the basin and begin working on your hair. At first, the curls seem to just bounce back to exactly how they were once the brush has run through them, but after a time, you notice them begin to soften.

After about fifteen minutes of continuous brushing, the hair has taken on some kind of style. You put down the brush and turn your head side to side, inspecting yourself in the mirror. You still look odd compared to other women about the castle, but… perhaps you could be seen like this?

You rush from your bedchamber and grab your unfinished gown, returning to hold it in front of you before the mirror. With a little squinting and imagination, you envision the final look and think it may just work. You leave your bedchamber again, gown draped over one arm, with a renewed vigour for sewing, when there’s a knock at your door. Placing the gown down, you move to answer it, before remembering your hair and stopping in your tracks.

“Who is it?” You call out.

“It’s Gwen,” A voice says from the other side of the door.

You continue to the door and open it, Gwen gasping when she sees you.

“(Y/N), that looks lovely!”

You grin and show her inside, closing the door behind her.

“I just came by to see how it went, but I can see right away that it’s gone very well!” She beams.

“You think so?”

“I do!”

“So, you think I could go to the feast like this?”

“(Y/N), you can go to the feast however you like. I know you are afraid of being different, but different doesn’t mean bad. I don’t believe anyone there will think poorly of you. If anything, they will be intrigued by your unique beauty,”

You chuckle. “I’m not so sure about that,”

A thought occurs to you and in an instant, your newfound excitement dissipates. There could be someone there who thinks very poorly of you.

“Will Gwaine’s sister be at the feast?” You ask.

Gwen frowns. “The nobility are invited, so I suppose she will be,”

“I can’t possibly go if she is going to be there,” You shake your head and begin to pace.

“I’m sure you will still have a good time,”

“I don’t think I could have a good time with her there. I wouldn’t be able to ignore her, I’d be waiting for her to say something unkind, or do something. Who knows, she might purposely spill her wine on my gown or something,”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). I wish I could tell her she can’t attend, but I’m afraid I cannot,” Gwen purses her lips thoughtfully. “Perhaps I could engage her in conversation for the whole evening, so she won’t have the chance to do or say anything to you,”

You cease your pacing. “But then your night would be unpleasant,”

Gwen shrugs. “I have gotten rather good at talking to people I don’t like since becoming queen,”

“I don’t know,” You sigh. “That is a kind offer Gwen, thank you, but I think I should work this out myself,”

“Alright, but please don’t let the prospect of Erika being there quell your excitement. Your hair is going to look beautiful, and I can already tell that your gown is going to be stunning. Not to mention, you’ll be going with Sir Gwaine. He’s known for being lots of fun, not to mention the fact that he adores you. Everything will work out,” Gwen smiles and gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. “But if you are still feeling apprehensive, please talk to Gwaine about it. Don’t keep your feelings to yourself, alright?”

“Alright,” You nod. “I will speak with him today,”

“Good,” Gwen smiles. “I shall leave you to it,”

~

After working on your gown for another two hours or so, you leave your chambers to see Gwaine.

You reach his door, raising your hand to knock, but falter. You shouldn’t bother him with this. It’s your issue, so you should work it out for yourself. Besides, what do you expect him to do? You lower your hand and turn around, taking a few steps back the way you came, when you hear a door unlatch and someone call your name. You turn around to see Gwaine standing at his chamber door.

“Is everything alright?” He asks.

“Yes, I’m fine,” You force a smile.

Upon hearing approaching footsteps, you turn to see Sir Elyan striding down the corridor. He nods in your direction and smiles.

“Good day, (Y/N),” He says, before disappearing into presumably his own chambers.

Gwaine steps out into the corridor, dressed very casually in his grey tunic and trousers, with only socks covering his feet, and closes the gap between you.

“If there’s something on your mind, I’m happy to hear it,” He offers.

The sound of approaching chatter has you turn around again to see Sirs Leon and Percival appear at the end of the corridor. They incline their heads in your direction as they advance, as Sir Elyan did.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” Leon says kindly.

His hair is damp, some of his curls sticking to his sweaty forehead. They must have just come back from training.

“I hope you’re well?” Percival says from beside Leon, with a grin, his gaze flicking between you and Gwaine beside you.

“I am well, thank you,” You reply.

Gwaine grimaces and watches his comrades until they enter their respective chambers, before addressing you again.

“Would you like to come inside?” He takes a step back toward his chamber door. “Then we might have some privacy,” His eyes flick to the entrances to the other knights’ rooms.

You nod and follow him inside, where he invites you to sit at the table. You take a seat and he closes the door before sitting down across from you.

“I shouldn’t bother you with it,” You say quietly.

“(Y/N),” Gwaine smiles sadly. “You never have, and never could, bother me. What’s the matter?”

You sigh. “I just realised today that… well, it hadn’t occurred to me that Erika would be at the harvest feast,”

“Ah,” Gwaine crosses his arms. “I spoke with her today,”

“You did? What about?”

“Just… everything you and I spoke of. I suppose I wanted to confront her, but also try to understand why she did what she did,”

“I see,”

“I needn’t speak of it,” Gwaine shakes his head.

“No… I would like to know what she had to say for herself,”

“Alright,” Gwaine straightens in his chair. “It turns out she’s been bitter all these years about me leaving home when I did. She felt I left her to fend for herself, while I had an easy escape. She’s been cruel to you because you make me happy and she thinks I don’t deserve to be happy. She came to Camelot to try to find a place for herself here. Supposedly none of the men back home are good enough for her,”

“When I overheard her in the courtiers’ wing, her companion mentioned something about Erika’s ‘quest’, and Erika replied, saying something about someone falling in love with her,”

Gwaine nods. “She’s been speaking to the other knights, clearly trying to gain their favour. Leon, Percival and Elyan have all had her approach them. They’ve all managed to shrug her off, though she was quite persistent for a time,”

“So, she was hoping to secure one of the knights and what, get married and live in Camelot? What about your mother?”

“If Erika was to settle here, I would see about finding a place for my mother as well. That is if she’d even want to live here,”

“Why wouldn’t she? Isn’t she in, please excuse the term, a reduced position?”

“Not so much anymore,”

You raise your brows in question.

“Since I became a knight,” Gwaine continues. “I’ve been sending her a portion of my wages in an attempt to better her and Erika’s circumstances,”

“And still Erika treats you so poorly?”

Gwaine shrugs. You reach a hand across the table and he places one of his own around it.

“Sending part of my wages was the least I could do after I ran away. There was no money being sent to them then,”

“You mustn’t punish yourself for your past mistakes, especially since you are doing what you can now,”

“You are kind to say so,” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Anyway, back to the matter at hand: Erika being at the feast,”

“Do you think she’ll behave, now that you’ve spoken to her?”

Gwaine sighs, running a hand over his chin. “I don’t know. She never actually said she was sorry,”

“Oh,” Your heart sinks.

“I’ll work something out,” He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “I won’t let anyone spoil our night,”

~

Gwaine waits beside the courtyard steps, greeting his fellow knights as they approach, chests heaving and brows sweaty from their afternoon training.

“Enjoy your respite while you can, Gwaine,” Percival grins, giving Gwaine a playful slap on the shoulder as he passes.

About a quarter of an hour goes by, and the man he’s been waiting for comes into view, a bundle of swords and shields slung over his back.

“Merlin!” Gwaine calls out as he crosses the courtyard to meet his friend. “Let me help you with that,”

“You shouldn’t, it could aggravate your injury,” Merlin says in a strained voice.

“I think I can manage carrying a few swords,” Gwaine says, already taking some from Merlin’s bundle.

Merlin nods in thanks and keeps walking.

“Everything alright?” He asks as they climb the courtyard steps.

“Yes and no,” Gwaine replies. “(Y/N) is going to the feast with me,”

“I heard,” Merlin grins. “I’m glad you two were able to sort things out,”

Gwaine smiles. “Me too. There is a problem though. My sister is going to be there and it’s making (Y/N) anxious. Honestly, it’s making me anxious too,”

“You’re worried she’ll try to ruin yours and (Y/N)’s night?” Merlin asks, stepping inside the castle and turning down a passage.

“I am,”

“What are you going to do?”

“I wondered if you, being the physician’s apprentice, might know of something that could… prevent Erika from attending,”

Merlin stops in his tracks. “What, like poison?” He says in an alarmed whisper.

“No! Who do you think I am, Merlin?” Gwaine shakes his head, wide-eyed. “I mean something that might make her a bit… unwell, or unsightly, so she won’t want to be seen in public,”

Merlin purses his lips thoughtfully. “Leave it to me,”

[bizbat]

Pretty Like This

~ Utahime Iori x Reader

~ Mature content alluded to but nothing explicit

~ Reader's appearance is not described

~ Reader can be read as any gender

~ Wc: 1.030k

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🦇Batman Masterlist🦇

~ You can find more of my works here.

Thank you to @pterodactyl-hater for requesting something with my glorious queen, my eternally loving goddess, my beautiful, gorgeous wife, Uthime Iori!

~ She looks so pretty like this.

"Pretty" doesn't seem strong enough a word to describe her.

No words truly do. There's not a phrase in any language that fully encapsulates everything about her. How a simple glance your way can make your heart squirm and writhe in your chest. How even thinking you've heard her voice down the hall is enough to make your entire body stop, make your limbs freeze mid air. How, when she talks, all you can do is sit there stupidly as she talks, her sweet voice making your brain shut off, preventing you from forming a competent sentence.

No, "pretty" isn't nearly enough. But for some reason, when you see her like this, it's the only thing that comes to mind.

She's laid out in your bed, her long, inky locks of hair spread across her pillow, framing her face in a way that's, frankly, angelic. Her skin, softer than any silk you've ever felt before, bare and exposed to the warm air of your room. Her strong, delicate arms, perfectly laid across her stomach. If you didn't know any better, you'd assume she was a portrait come to like, nigh perfect in every aspect.

She's so powerful, even in her sleep she wills you to wait for her, to observe her soft chest rise and fall with every deep, slow breath. She compels you to study the way her elegant lashes rest across her porcelain cheeks. She pulls you in, grips you by the throat and gives you no other option but to focus and obsess.

You try not to breathe too loudly, try not to move too much, try not to disturb her slumber, anything to keep her like this.

Not that she isn't as breathtaking when she's awake, when you see her exercising, sweat dripping down the side of her neck, a glowy sheen coating her every muscle, you have to physically force yourself not to gawk. When she has her hair tied back, absentmindedly watching TV, your head in her lap as she plays with your hair, it's hard not to gaze up at her with sheer admiration and adoration.

And, like last night, when she's laid on her back, her face flushed the most vibrant shade of pink, and her usually collected voice reduced to little more than choked gasps and moans, it's enough to bring tears to your eyes.

But you think this is still your favorite version of her. Your fingers twitch, desperate to reach out and stroke her face, or fix her messy bangs, but you don't have it in you to disturb her in the slightest. You worry you're doing it now, just by staring at her so intently. If she were awake, she'd laugh at you, a soft, airy noise that would make you feel like an idiot in the best way.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see her lashes flutter, her eyes slowly peeking open and getting used to the light pouring in through the window. She moans, warming up her voice before turning to lay on her side to stare right back at you. Neither of you say a word, a warm silence permeating in the air between the two of you.

Eventually, when she notices the awestruck look in your unblinking eyes, she speaks. "Why are you staring at me?" Her question is spoken with a smile on her face. That damn smile that got you here in the first place, that stole your heart the minute she flashed it your way. Taken off guard by her confrontation of your admittedly creepy behavior, you blink for the first time in what must've been at least five minutes.

Your lip trembles, your brain once again melting in your head at her words, as your mouth opens and closes, several answers being born and dying on your tongue. And just as you thought she might, she does indeed laugh, a musical giggle bouncing around between your ears as she reaches out and brushes her thumb across your face.

You finally form a real thought when you feel her soft, albeit slightly chapped, lips press against your nose. "You just . . ." You begin speaking, getting lost in those deep, wise pools of golden, honey brown that make unwavering contact with your own eyes. "You look so . . . pretty like this, Utahime."

It's such a simple sentence, something so soft and innocent whispered to what you think might be the most beautiful woman on the planet. Yet, the minute it leaves your lips something heavy settles in your chest, something thick, something so cold it freezes every drop of blood rushing through your veins, yet so hot it sends a wave of hot, red heat throughout your body.

Her eyes crinkle at your words, her hand moving to fix her wild, messy, gorgeous hair. "Think so?" She says it like she doesn't believe you, like she's used to hearing it, but not used to it being meant. And it shatters your heart like glass. You push yourself up, careful not to move too fast, careful not to startle her, as if she'd see your desperation and immediately leave, tell you to forget anything had ever happened between the two of you.

You hold yourself above her, looking down at her with stars in your eyes, before lowering yourself down just enough to press the gentlest kiss in the world to her pink lips. You hope she can't hear how fast your heart is beating in your chest, can't read your mind and discover just how in love with her you are, as you try to make her see how wonderful she is with every movement of your lips against hers.

You don't even realize how deep the kiss had actually gotten until you pull away, breathing heavily as blood rushes to your face. Your eyes drop to Utahime's face, her eyes as bright as yours usually are in her presence. Suddenly, you lose every bit of confidence, dropping back to lay in bed beside her.

After a few more moments of silently staring at each other, you finally manage to choke out an answer.

"Y-yeah . . . I think so."

[mewpangxin]

— Twisted Wonderland —

A/N: Welcome to my navigation page.

I hope you will find the stories you search for, my readers. Do tread with haste, you wouldn't want to get trapped in wonderland, ah would you<3?

About me: You can call me as Nobu, Boba or Xin! I'm okay with all, and my DMs are always open.

•━━━━༻❝ ♥️ ❞༺ ━━━━•

Villain to Kill/VTK fic - ❝—Listening — ❞ • FT. Crow and Driver. | General themes

— Proceed with caution —

☽ — Rules —☽ | Favorite work | TWST_NL/Yume

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Main account | My friends/mutuals | 🎈WRITERS AND ARTISTS APPRECIATION POST🧸—

•━━━━༻❝ ♥️ ❞༺ ━━━━•

⭑ Masterlist ⭑

— OVERBLOTS! X GN! READER —⋆ ࣪. ❤︎ . ┊FT. Riddle, Azul and Malleus in this.

♥️The Queen Of Hearts♥️ • Riddle Rosehearts x Alice! Reader — ( Beware of the red monarch! )

— Swapping body with the dorm leaders — FT. Leona, Kalim, Vil, and Idia♟

— Swapping body with the dorm leaders — FT. Riddle, Azul and Malleus in the fic.

・・❥・OB! TWST BOYS SAYING THEIR LOVE TO THEIR S/O THEIR BEST・・❥・

・・❥・OB! TWST BOYS SAYING THEIR LOVE TO THEIR S/O THEIR BEST PT. TWO・・���・

☆ﾐReacting to you teasing them about their crush— • (FT. Epel, Deuce and Ace by a request.) ☆ﾐ

TWST SELF AWARE AU

—✦Thoughts on what would happen if the reader loses memory in Glorious Masquerade Events —✦

— Housewardens With An Innocent S/O — • FT. Riddle, Azul and Malleus in the hc.

—❝ What is your answer to their devotion? ❞— FT. Riddle, Azul and Malleus.

— ❝ Have You Been Dreaming Of Me? ❞ — FT. OB! Azul X GN! Reader X Azul Ashengrotto

❝ I CAN’T BE WITH YOU. ❞ — By Dorm leaders ✿

- General Yandere! Jamil Headcanons -

- A Letter By Leona Kingscholar -

— Swapping body with the vice heads — FT. Trey, Jade and Rook in the headcanon.

Hopelessness — Riddle Rosehearts X GN! Reader.

⊹˚ Loneliness ࿐ FT. Malleus Draconia.

- A Letter By Azul Ashengrotto -

- A Letter By Riddle Rosehearts -

— More on the list by @mewpangxin —

✦—Meeting Their OB! Selves—✦

— With a s/o who is a writer and illustrator— • ☆ﾐ(FT. Riddle, Azul and Malleus.)☆ﾐ

What IF Riddle was engaged and he doesn't want it?

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

ⓒ MEWPANGXIN, please do not repost, copy or translate my works unless I give you consent to it.

[hotpinkboots]

~~~~~

~"System Overheat"~

(Pt. 1/2)

(Queen x Fem!Reader Oneshot)

THERE'S HARDLY ANY QUEEN FANFIC??? NOT on MY WATCH darlings this is not okay

Summary: Queen is delighted to see you at her party.

Note(s): Reader is said to be wearing a dress (specifically the dress that Orange Addison sells aka Mettaton's dress), reminder that Queen is like 7-8 freaking feet tall, Queen and (Y/N) are stupid as hell and in love, I only use a tiny bit of grammar for Queen so good luck, part 2 coming soon 🤭

How Long It Took To Write: 3 hours

~~~~~

"OHOOOOHOHOHOHO!"

Queen's boisterous laugh echoed down the hall. Swatchlings were bustling about, preparing food (which mostly consisted of battery acid pies, microchip salads, and spaghetti made of wires), and serving guests. Two Swatchlings had gasped at your beauty and insisted on walking you into the party, your arms linked snugly with theirs.

Other guests at the party wore nothing fancy. They all came as they were.

But not you.

You wore a beautiful periwinkle and sky blue gown. It felt cheap, slightly itchy, but it looked like it was worth millions. You felt glorious, you looked glorious. You were glorious. Heads turned as soon as the Swatchlings used their free hands to push open the large doors that lead into the Great Hall.

Queen, who had been in the middle of sipping from her fifth glass of battery acid, stopped everything she was doing to stare across the room at you. Her jaw dropped, her screen flashed a shocked "OMG", and she stood up abruptly. In doing so, she almost stepped on Nubert.

The Swatchlings unlinked their arms from yours to bow at the approaching Queen. Each then politely told you to enjoy the party, before they departed to help the others serve and clean. You waved goodbye to your escorts, then looked up as Queen's comically tipsy sounding voice spoke to you.

"(Y/N) Sweetie Honey Darling Gravy You Look Stunning"

"Lovely"

"Perfect, Even"

"..."

"In Fact You Are Stealing My Spotlight How Rude Of You" she prodded you in the arm playfully with her knuckle, so hard that she accidentally sent you stumbling backwards a step.

You gave a scoff of pure amusement, and quickly restabilized your balance. You opened your mouth to give a playful retort and a compliment to her in return, but you were unable to get a single word in before she started blabbering again. Even more delighted by her ridiculous ramblings, you humored her, and listened while she began going on and on about the most absurd things.

"Do You Happen To Be Lacking In Potassium Because I Ordered Bananas The Other Day And Meant To Type "5" But One Of The Tasques Jumped Onto The Keyboard And Accidentally Sent An Order For 5,936 Bananas. We Now Have 5,936 Bananas And I Do Not Know What To Do With Them. They Are Currently In Their Own Room Undergoing Professional Peeling"

"Did You See That New Swan Boat In The Free Pool That's Why I Asked About Your Favorite Bird The Other Day (But I Forgot So I Just Got The Swan Because Swans Are Pretty And You're Pretty Too)"

"Did You Notice That I Bought Myself New High Heels They Are The Exact Same As Every Other Pair I Own But Shinier. I Also Bought You A Pair So We Can Match- Oh Wait That Was Supposed To Be A Surprise LOL Dang (Damn)"

"Okay Enough About Me Let's Talk About You Have A Seat"

You blinked. All of her words had begun to mesh into one very long sentence that you hadn't been keeping up with, and before you knew it, you had absentmindedly walked across the long room with her, and now you were standing at the foot of her luxurious throne. Queen often invited you to sit with her on the throne. You usually perched on the armrest while the two of you went about spectating and playfully harassing people. This occurred so often that there was a slight dip in the armrest from your constant sitting on it.

Queen sat down and elegantly crossed her left leg over her right. She slung her arm around your waist to guide you to sit with her. With a bit of difficulty (due to how large the throne was), you made it to your usual spot, your legs neatly tucked under yourself. Queen reached her free hand over to smooth out your dress for you.

"Have I Told You That You Look Cool"

You grinned and nodded, leaning against her, a giddy feeling in your heart. Now that you could finally get a word in, you accepted the compliment. "Thank you!" You replied sweetly, "You look perfect, as usual, your Majesty," you replied in a frolicsome tone. Queen gave a pleased smile, lifting her glass to sip her battery acid. After a long sip, she looked at you again.

"Thank You Sweetie ILY-" she hiccupped, hand briefly pressing against her chest as she did. It was unclear if it was genuine or if she had done it to distract from the fact she said 'ILY' without thinking. She was never the type to shy away from showing over the top affection, but dropping "I love you" was different for her.

You just took it in a friendly way. "Love you, too!"

Queen's screen briefly flashed what looked like a keyboard smash.

~~~~~

Part 2 coming soon 👀 she's so silly fr darling I adore her terribly

Request Guidelines!

~Love, HotPinkBoots

Likes < Reblogs!

[xxladyballadxx]

Ice And Snow

❆ Jill Warrick x f! reader ❆

This work is inspired by the amazing, adorable friend of mine @kianaflame23 -`♡´-

⋆⁺₊❅. dividers by: @saradika-graphics ⋆⁺₊❅.

Her hands are always freezing as hell but it never bothers you since you love the cold feeling of holding her hands into yours. Your lady is the dominant of Shiva after all. There are times where you asked her to transform into Shiva, you just love to see Jill in her beautiful, majestic eikon form. This one time where Jill in her Shiva form kissed you so passionately with such a cold cool sensation that caused your skin to get goosebumps, you got so badly ill and this led to Clive laughing his ass off at you. Joshua also found this amusing. 

Clive laughed a lot more when Jill demanded you with a very firm tone of hers to get a lot of rest and to take medicine from Tarja twice a day. Tarja couldn’t believe this when you told her about what happened with Jill in her Shiva form, earning a little bonk on the head with her book of medicine for being so silly asking Jill to prime into Shiva so you could be held in her pale white-blue cold hands as she presses down cold-sweet kisses onto your face and lips. 

It insanely took you about three weeks to get a hell lot better. Which means you can spend a lot more time with your beautiful ice queen Jill. You and your lover headed out for a lovely picnic, watching sunset rising by the massive lake as it shone brightly onto the water. 

“Hey Jill?” You called out to her after finishing the last piece of your delicious bread. Jill placed her glass of wine down and faced you with a bubbly smirk, “Let me guess…you want me to transform into Shiva so you can be held in my very cold-freezing hands as I give you my affection?” 

Amused by her assumption, you slipped out a light laugh and shook your head, “No, my lady, I was wondering if you can freeze the lake.” 

Jill cocked her eyebrow by your sudden shocking request, “Why?” 

“So we can skate together!” You stood up, taking a glance at the lake as you began to imagine dancing on the ice with Jill, “Let’s do ice skating! It will be fun!”

Jill lightened a smile across her face, standing up, “Alright, my love. Stay back.” you distanced yourself from her as she semi-primed into her Shiva form. She whipped out her glowing blue hands and blasted out a long shot of ice onto the lake, freezing the water. 

“There.” Jill decided to stay in her Shiva form, she stepped out first and set her footing onto the frozen water. She skated around and twirled gracefully, going for a few rounds of spins. (Y/n) couldn’t lay her eyes off her lover. Jill was too magnificent and elegant to look away. 

Your lady noticed you weren’t joining her so she dashed over to you and grabbed your hands dragging you into the frozen water to skate with her, feeling the shiver of coldness crawling upon your skin. “Jill, I don’t think I can skate that well..” you were a little anxious about tripping over on your bottom or worse; making Jill fall onto the ice by accident. 

“Don’t worry, my love. I will teach you. Besides, it was your idea after all.” Jill curved a smirk across her irresistible lips, causing your heart to pump up in such excitement.

You giggled innocently, “Yeah, you’re right.” 

And so the beautiful glorious day continued with Jill giving you a practice on how to ice skate. You tripped a few times, causing Jill to laugh at your clumsiness adorably. This amazing day had gotten better when you managed to skate without Jill’s help, getting the hang of it. You twirled and spun in the air beautifully, Jill watched in awe as you did that. 

Exhausted by skating so much, you and Jill took a break. Sitting down on the picnic blanket to relax for a moment. “You know, (Y/n), we should do this again when we have the chance. That was really fun.” Jill slides her hand on the picnic blanket to touch yours, her face warming. 

“The way you twirled and danced on the ice, it was beautiful to look at. You were beautiful to look at.” There were tiny little sparks gleaming through Jill’s grayish pale blue orbs that somehow reminded you of tiny snowflakes dancing in the cold air.

Jill leaned in and cupped your face, pressing down a shivering sweet kiss onto your cheek, “Do you want to go skating again or are you too tired, my love?” an icy smirk glossed over her face. 

You gave a nod, smiling with little laughter and standing up as you stuck out your hand to Jill, “Yeah! Let’s go for another spin!”

⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆ ❆ ⋆∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆

a/n - a lack of Jill Warrick fanfictions is killing me and I hate the feeling of it (╥﹏╥) I might write another one of her depending on my mood ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

❅ UNTIL NEXT TIME ❅

⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆ ❆ ⋆∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆

[koobratzy]

Final Decision

Jacaerys Velaryon x Targaryen! Fem! Reader

Reader is the daughter of Alicent and Viserys, the youngest out of their kids.

Because of Viserys wishes of uniting the family, y/n Targaryen is now betrothed to her nephew, Jacaerys Velaryon. The union that was supposed to bring the blacks and greens together only ignites the further conflict as Aemond, her closest brother, absolutely despises the idea of her marriage. When the dance begins, which side will she choose?

warnings Targaryen incest (duh), aemond (yes, he's a warning), swearing

Around 2000 words

Not proofread

English is not my mother tongue so please excuse me any mistakes♡

For better understanding:

According to my information the Driftmark incident (you know, taking an eye as a present) took place in 120 AC when Aemond is 10, Jace is 6. Y/N would be 8.

The council over Driftmark succession is supposed to be in 126 AC but i changed it, and in my story it will happen later, in 132 AC so both Jace and reader can be over 18.

Enjoy! Remember to like and share if you like my work, there is more to come. You can also request a story if you would like!

- My king.. You cannot possibly mean that… I must have understand wrongly – Alicent looked him in the face, shock being the only thing visible in her big eyes

- I think you undertood me very well, my dear wife. I am an old man. Time is not mercifull for me. I only wish to see my family reunited before my death. There is no better way than this. – Viserys let go of his wife’s hand and slowly moved toward the window, looking at the lanscape of Kings Landing, as glorious and beautiful as ever – Y/N is already old enough to get bethroted. Who could be better husband to be than her nephew? They are almost the same age, he is family, the same royal blood runs through their veins – he appeard calm altough the quiet sound of his fingers tapping on the wall showed that the conversation held between them was not an easy one. Not because he had doubts, but because he knew his lady wife would not be happy and he did not want to anger her.

- But… His brother took your son’s eye. He hurt Y/N’s dear brother. Do you not think she might be oposed to this idea? – Alicent saw that as her only argument. She knew that her youngest daughter, Y/N Targaryen, was a lady of honor and she took her duty really seriously. She was completely differen than her sister Helaena, true dragon blood run through her veins and her temper and determination were proofs of that. Her girl would see this marriage as another one of her responsibilities and would comply without any protest, especially if it was her dear father that requested this of her. But Alicent could not lose her daughter without a fight. She already agreed that their older children marry each other in true Targaryen nature. Viserys was crazy to think of another sacrafice, even worse than the first one.

- My lady… We both know well that my dear daughter will not despise this proposal. She always liked her nephews. I already spoke to Rhaenyra about this matter, and she heartilly agreed. My word is final. Our daughter Y/N and Prince Jacearys are to be wed.

Alicent knew that she lost and had to give up, once again in her life. The queen quickly bowed and excused herself from the chamber, leaving the old king alone and only the peacefull walls could hear his sigh.

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

If Y/N Tagaryen was to describe her life in one word, she would definitely choose „weird”. Nine years passed since her father bethroted her to her nephew and yet she only saw him once, today. Long gone were her childhood days when she could run aroud the castle as she pleased. She turned into a real lady, what really pleased her mother. The princess, now the age of twenty years knew what was expected of her and would fulfill her duty with no doubt. When her father asked for her opinion all those years ago she agreed instantly. She really loved him. The king was a pretty poor excuse of a father for her sibilings, but he had a soft spot for his youngest and was always kind to her, so the little princess would do anything to keep that old man happy. If it meant marriage, so be it.

Y/N remembered her nephew as a young gentleman and she hoped it stayed that way. Despite everything her mother taught her about marriage she could not help but wish that she and her future husband will be able to live peacfully, with respect and maybe love (that hope was even stronger after they started exchanging letters; they might have not seen each other but they still wanted to at least get to know each other slightly so ravens were seen travelling back and forth). Loads of thoughts of this sort run through her head when they saw each other in the throne room during the hearing about sucession of Driftmark. She could never speak of it in front of Alicent and her brothers but she was glad that their father stepped in and secured Luke’s claim. The Princess could not care less if her nephews were indeed bastards. They were still Targaryens by birth and blood, Valaryon by name, and no one could deny their rights. She was not at all surprised by her uncle beheading Ser Vaemond Valaryon, she honestly expected it after his words. The sight of blood did not bother her in the slightest, but Aemond still hid her behind his tall frame. And for a moment she thought, as their eyes met, that Jace wanted to do exactly the same and protect her from the gruesome view.

Y/N took a deep breath shaking her head slightly at the memories, as her maid braided her long icy hair. She should be completely present. There was still a dinner to attend, and with her whole family, especially Aemond and Jace, the princess could not help but worry. The youngest Targaryen knew that her husband to be had a temper of a real dragon, but he would not attack if not provoked. Sadly, the same could not be said about her older brother Aemond. She loved him dearly, in the past she even thought that they may get married one day, but despite their deep bond she had to admit that he could be really cruel and if he started something, there was no force that could hold him back. It brought her deep sorrow. How could she be happy if the two man closest to her heart could not stay together in one room without barking offencess at each other. This fucking dinner was the source of her headache. Light knock on the door told her that indeed, it was time to face her fears head on. It was not a battlefield, yet it felt like one when Y/N stood up from the chair.

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

Just as she thought. A complete catastrophy. For a short period of time she actually had hope. When her father’s speech finished and toasts were made the princess even teared up a bit. That was it, her perfect little fairytale fantasy becoming real, even if just for one moment. She could freely smile and talk with her bethroted without her mothers accusatory gaze on her back, observe as old frendships were restored. Her husband to be even danced with her older sister, Helaena, bringing smile not only to her face, but old kings as well. And then… it all went to hell.

Her poor old father taken out of the room was only the start of yet another family tragedy. The second that pig was brought to the table she prayed to seven gods for mercy, but gods clearly saw her misery as a great comedy, because not only one minute later Aemond stood up from his chair to make a final toast. She could not watch anymore. As soon as Jace went to punch him in the face, the princess left the room, already feeling tears in her eyes. She hoped no one will see her in this state. She hid in a dark corridor and slid down the wall, finally letting every emotion out. She felt as if she could not breathe, every sob wrecking her body, causing her to spasm on the floor. Hands burried in her neatly braided hair, ruining it completely, but the princess could not care less. She wanted to get rid of everything that reminded her of this disastrous excuse of a dinner. One word was ringing in her head.

„A whore”

„Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.It is a shame that soon you will turn my precious little sister into a whore, to breed more of your kind… blood always a little too strong.”

So that was what he really saw her as. A whore. Only an object capable of making heirs. It broke her heart. All those years she was close to him. All those years she protected him, kept him company, helped him with the pain he went through. And that is all she gets in return. A part of her died that evening and nothing could bring it back. One thing was sure. That was the night, when Aemond Targaryen stopped being her brother. She would not let him treat her like this.

That was when she heard quiet footsteps, not far away from her hiding spot. She immediately go tup from her knees, ready for confrontation. When her eyes fell on Aemond she gimmaced.

- Get the fuck away from me.

That made him stop. He looked at his sister, completely shocked not only by her language, but because it was directed at him.

- Y/N …what? You cannot be serious…. What have I done to upset you so much? Is that about this comment at dinner? You know what they did. I had to…

-No. – she could not listen to any more of his pathetic excuses – No, I fucking begged you to be civil with my husband to be. I was almost on my knees, asking you to change your ways, to at least try to not look at him with the intention of murder in your eyes. I asked both of you. For me. And yet? What did you do? – tears covered her beautiful face when she looked at her brother, once so close to her. There was no trace of anger in her eyes, only dissapointment and grief. Sorrow over their lost love. – You jumped at the first chance to speak your vile words… Not only of him but of me… And now you come to me expecting what… my forgiveness? You will not get it. Not now, not ever. YOU ruined this perfectly fine evening. YOU ruined us. You are no loger a brother of mine – she shook her head and walked by his completely frozen frame.

There was only one place where she could go. Only one where she could find peace. Without second thughts Y/N’s feet took her in front of the chamber Jacearys slept in. She knew it was improper, they were not wed yet, but at this moment she could not care about this. Her heart was broken and if someone could fix it, it was him.

The princess knocked on the wooden door and soon after it opened revealing her future husband. Before young boy could ask her what she was doing there, his aunt stepped into the room closing th door behind them. When Jacearys finally saw his bethroted in the light strong worry replaced his shock.

- My lady… what happened? Are you alright? Did someone hurt you? – his hand landed delicately on her shoulder and in this exact moment young maiden threw herself in his strong arms.

The prince slowly embaced her, keeping her frame close to him, slowly drawing circles on her back.

- We can talk about this later. Tomorrow. But please… please can we just stay like this? Can you just hold me like this a little bit longer, my prince, while we pretend that everything is just as it is supposed to be?

Who was he to deny such a request. If his lady needed this, he could never say no. It was his job as a husband to make sure she was happy, and he would lie if he said her sad face did not break his own heart. He did not realise earlier how much he really cared about her.

So they stayed like this. Embraced, held together only by the others arms, acting like normal couple in love with no duties and facade to keep up. Even when they moved to bed their position never changed. They fell asleep calmly, not knowing that tommorow Y/N would fly with blacks to Dragonstone. Not knowing that events of this day would change the rest of their lifes.

Not knowing that when the tried to put themselves together a certain old king was slowly fading away, never to see his beloved daughter’s wedding. Never to know that the reunion of the family he planned only broke them more. The last thing he would remember were the smiles, laughter and the peace that could never last.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

“Flesh and Blood”

Part Seven, and the end - A new beginning

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 1 of 6 | Part 2 of 6

Pairing: Prince Aemon the Dragonknight x Fem. Reader (Northerner /House Stark | Third Person POV)

Themes: Soft / Happy ending

Warnings: Canon Targaryen incestuous marriage (Daena x Baelor) | Mentions of alcohol use

Word count: 2.5k words

Summary: A new era begins as Daena is anointed as Baelor’s queen.

A/Ns : Inspiration for Daena’s anointing was drawn from Anne Boleyn’s coronation. The painting is Queen Elizabeth I portrait in her regnal glory with Justice, Mercy, Prudence and Fortitude supporting her majesty.

Minors DNI | 🔞 | You are responsible for the media you consume

The day of Daena’s anointing dawned bright and golden and crisp.

Riotous cheers carried as far as the Godswood and beyond it. It was as if all of King’s Landing was at the gates to the Red Keep. It pleased Aemon to think the people all looked forward to the festivities. It frightened him as well. He was to aid both the Lord Commanders of the Kingsguard and the Gold Cloaks while they escorted the queen to the city square for her anointing, and no one could afford to be negligent even for a moment. 

There was a knock on the door. “Enter,” he said, and he looked at the ornate chest in his hands. The time had come to give his wife her gift. 

“You sent for me, my lord.” Lady Emma walked into the chambers he shared with his wife, the silks of her robes rustling softly with each step she took.

“You look glorious, my lady.” Aemon greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “And I have a favor to ask of you. I was hoping y/n would wear this for the day’s festivities, and since she is still in the bath, I wondered if you could pass it on to her and offer my excuses.”

Emma sniffed and lifted the lid, so curious was she to peek at its contents. Her eyes widened when she saw what lay within. “Is this truly a gift, my lord?” She asked shrewdly. “Or is it a bribe?”

Aemon flushed and looked away. “My lord father hoped it would serve as a bribe, ” he confessed. “An overture of sorts to flatter the future Mistress of the North and convince her to continue with her marriage. I, on the other hand, wish to give it as a gift. These jewels once belonged to my mother. It would honor me to see y/n wearing them.”

She nodded. “I cannot truly blame your father, and I understand. I will be more than happy to give them to my niece. Now go,” she urged, when the Red Keep’s bell chimed six times. “The queen is expecting you, I hear.”

Aemon drew himself straight and said his farewells. He smiled when he heard laughter ringing in the bath chamber. Syrena was regaling her sister with her journey to King’s Landing, of all the wondrous sights she saw, and of all the dashing sailors that caught her eye. They had been awake late the night before, talking and talking to no end, it seemed. He did not mind. His wife seemed all the happier now that her sister was here.

And she will need to savor these moments, he thought to himself. They will be few and far between once Cregan yields to the Stranger, and she has to rule the North after he has gone.

He passed the room y/n once slept in. Marna and Lyanna made use of it, for his wife now shared his featherbed after she returned with him once they were all done with the hunt. The dragon and the maiden tapestry had been safely put away for the journey back to Winterfell. Y/n thought of having it hung in their shared chambers after they arrived.

Uther was seated in the entry hall, alert and impatient. “You are looking very much like a knight and lord today, my lord.” 

His armor was new—heavy plate enameled in crimson and black, with a cloak of the same colors trailing behind him. A three-headed dragon, also enameled in a deep, rich red, rested on the crest. Aemon was silently grateful that it was already autumn. He would not have been able to endure the rigors of the day had the anointing ceremony taken place during the height of summer. 

“Kinsman,” He clapped Uther on the shoulder. Y/n’s cousin was resplendent in a parti-colored doublet of black and silvery-grey. His hair had been shorn for the occasion. “Your mother’s work?” He observed. Uther had longer hair when they arrived and made themselves comfortable in the tower he shared with y/n. If Lady Cerwyn did indeed cut his hair, she must have done it the night before. 

Uther made a face. “Mother was insistent we all look our best this morn,” he complained. “Now I am but a shadow of the creature I once was without my glorious locks.”

“The ladies will all mourn such a loss, I am sure.” Aemon suppressed the need to laugh when Uther glared. “Will I see you at the queen’s breakfast?” 

“Of course you will." Uther fussed with what remained of his hair. “Go on, kinsman. I will make certain the others are not late.” 

Flags and bunting, all in black and red, and all bearing the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, fluttered in the wind. More would be found all over the city. Little bells that were strung up with the flags tinkled whenever a gust of wind rose. Aemon looked around and found the Red Keep a hive of activity. Servants ran to and fro on behalf of their lords and ladies, and the High Septon was heard imparting final instructions to his own retinue. They would walk first, ahead of the Queen and her guard. Members of the court and their guests would follow after. 

Daena was still seated by her silvered looking glass when Aemon came upon her in the Maidenvault. Her sisters fussed over her, fixing her hair, her robes. Daena looked the image of a queen this day. She was dressed in a parti-colored gown of black and crimson velvet, and her robe was black and crimson velvet as well, richly embroidered, and lined with ermine. Her golden three-headed dragon pendant hung heavy on a golden chain. Aemon bowed deeply. 

“Your grace,” he said. “You wished to see me.” 

Her sisters curtsied, made their excuses, and left with the maids. Once the queen was satisfied that they were alone, she closed her eyes and sighed. 

“I am trapped,” she wailed softly. “All my life, I have dreamed of such a moment, and now I feel like I am about to be locked into a golden cage for the rest of my days.” 

“Is it because of Baelor?” Aemon probed doubtfully. “Do you not want to endure all of this because of him?” 

“No,” Daena sniffed, and she brushed the back of her hand over her eyes. “Yes. You do not know how wretched I feel every night I convince myself to lay with him. And I cannot do anything about my fate until I have given him a son, and your father succeeds in convincing him to renounce his vows to me.” She turned to face Aemon, her eyes full of unshed tears. “It should have been Daeron escorting me through all of the feasts and frolics. I could have been happy with Daeron. Tisn’t fair.” 

Daeron was the husband you yearned for, and Baelor was the husband you received. “It is not,” Aemon agreed. “But you must endure. At least for a little while. At least until you have given the king a son. Then you will be free of him and can live your life with whomever you choose for your next husband.” 

A streak of daring flashed in her violet eyes. “True. Perhaps I could keep someone waiting in the wings, so to speak. Perhaps someone could aid me in providing the throne with an heir if Baelor is unable to fulfill his duties.” 

“Your grace,” Aemon said sternly. He understood what she meant and liked it not. “Take care with how you conduct yourself. The last time someone thought as you did, the realm plunged into a civil war, and our dragons all died. I implore you not to walk down the same path our grandmother did. It could lead to the ruin of our family. Besides, what you propose is treason.”

Daena pursed her lips. “Gods be good, but you sound so much like your lord father,” she muttered. "Oh, very well. I will conduct myself in a manner befitting a queen until I have been safely delivered of a son.” 

“Good.” Aemon was full of doubt. Daena was restless and, at times, too brash and willful for her own good. Still, her conduct during the feast of the warrior and the hunt showed otherwise. He finally decided to keep faith in her, at least for the time being. “Keep your sisters with you. Their future husbands’ will not refuse the honor of having their wives attend the queen as her ladies-in-waiting. Now tell me, where is the king? Why is he not here to lead you to the small feasting hall?” 

“Baelor is at his prayers,” Daena explained, then sniffed again. “He refuses to be seen until he has to welcome me after I return from my anointing. It will be your father escorting me about until then.” 

Seven save us all. The nobles will talk about this; Aemon was sure of it. He wondered if Baelor had even considered the folly of such an act. His kinsman was supposed to escort his wife everywhere to show one and all that she was his true and lawful queen. If he did not, the rumors were certain to start. 

The people will either think him unfit to rule, he mused, or suspect Daena has sullied herself in some way, hence his refusal.   

“All the more reason to comport yourself accordingly and win both the court and the small folk to your side,” he counseled. “It will make a regency go easier for you if you do.” 

“That is what your father said as well.” Daena picked up a square of white silk and dabbed her eyes. “Ask my sisters to come back in. I will not go out with puffy eyes.” 

When the bell chimed eight times, Aemon was seated beside his wife while they all broke their fast on honey cakes and gammon steaks, rashers of crisp bacon, freshly baked bread and the finest fruits of the season. There were pitchers of mead and pitchers of ale and pitchers of water for anyone who had a thirst. Aemon glanced at his wife. Y/n looked splendid in her dress of white silk slashed with cloth of silver. A gray crescent diadem of stiffened damask sat neatly amidst her hair. The jewels he gifted her glinted in her ears and wrists and throat. She thanked him profusely, then flushed when he ran his thumb along her cheek. 

In a matter of a few weeks, y/n had changed. Her eyes were brighter, and she looked more content now. Even her appetite had improved, her maid told him. It pleased him no end to see her so happy. 

“How is the queen?” asked y/n. “Is she well?”

“Overwrought,” Aemon replied. The truth will have to wait until much later, when they were alone and in bed. He did not want the other guests to hear. “And regal. Her mother and father would have been proud of her, had they lived to see this day.” 

“Uther wants to fight in the melee again. He thinks he will win a second time." There would be jousting and plays, and even a Dornish camel race, as part of several days of celebrating. Wagers had been placed, and the purses offered were quite heavy. Knights from the previous month’s tourney had stayed on for the next round of jousts as well, with even more knights pouring into the city to add to their number. Already, there was talk that this tourney would be the greatest tourney in an age. “Aunt Emma likes it not.” 

“She is his mother; of course she will not like it,” Aemon replied, taking her hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze. “And I hope I will see you when I joust?” 

“Of course,” y/n flashed him a radiant smile. “I have been looking forward to it for days now.” 

Aemon brought her hand to her lips. Serena, who had been studying them both with a careful eye, cleared her throat and said, “I hear women have been allowed to participate in the archery contest?” 

“Yes.” Aemon flushed, then smiled warmly. “And all because of the queen. Her grace was insistent on adding her name to the list. An exception was made and any woman with skill could partake if she wished.” 

Serena clapped her hands with glee. She was going to add her name, Aemon was certain of it. Her sister had been praising her skills as a huntress for a while now. “Would you be partaking as well, wife?” he asked. 

“Not this time,” y/n sipped the last of her wine and replied. “I would like to just watch.”

 “Fair enough.”

 While the breakfast was light and full of good humor, the procession into the city square was somber. A magnificent carriage drawn by white draft horses caparisoned in black and crimson moved along at slow pace while members of both the Gold Cloaks and the Kingsguard rode on either side of it. The crowds parted and cleared a path whenever the procession neared them, all shouting good wishes at the queen.

 If there is any jeering, it would be from the dissatisfied few that no one would hear. His cousin being so well-received was a good omen. Aemon kept pace with Lord Commander Hardyng. The High Septon walked ahead of them, his attendants swinging gilded censors full of incense. It felt like hours had passed, but no one grew weary. Excitement was thick in the air. The cheers grew even louder when the procession neared the city square and the carriage stopped so all could proceed on foot. Viserys alighted from the carriage first, for he had to bear the Valyrian steel diadem that had once belonged to Rhaenys, first of her name. Daena followed, her sisters holding onto the edges of her train. Pages garbed in scarlet silks walked on either side of her, holding a canopy of crimson velvet over her head. The rest followed. 

A dais and a wooden throne crafted especially for the occasion loomed ahead of them. Aemon helped Daena up the steps, then took his place beside her sisters and kept a watch on the crowds that had gathered to witness the spectacle. The High Septon offered prayers of blessings and gratitude to the Seven and the queen, then bid her to kneel before him. Daena bowed her head and gracefully dipped into the cushion before her. When the High Septon said the vows, she repeated them loudly and clearly enough for all to hear.

“I will do my utmost to aid my husband and our king in his duties to the realm,” she then declared. “I pray this day will lead to a new beginning, a new future, and one that will enrich this realm and all those who dwell in it.” 

Then she closed her eyes, and consented to be blessed with the seven oils. She kept still while the diadem was affixed to her hair. After, she took the High Septon’s hand and rose to wave at the crowds that had waited all morning in the square. 

Whatever her fears may be, she does not show them now. Aemon took his place beside Lord Commander Hardyng again, this time for their journey back to the Red Keep and a sumptuous coronation feast. He closed his eyes, his thoughts on y/n the entire time. 

A new beginning had come upon them as well. And he was grateful for the opportunity to share it with her.

[bakerstreethound]

Evil’s Undying Kiss

Relationship: Rafal x fem!reader

Warnings: Implied smut & making out

A blurb inspired by Kit Young’s character Rafal in Netflix’s The School for Good and Evil, not the books. 

All writings belong to me @bakerstreethound​ (Do NOT claim, copy, repost, or translate my work to other sites. I only post here and on A03)

Disclosure: Also again, as this is inspired by Kit Young’s version of Rafal, I’m going to say Rafal is 25 or presents as 25 (Kit is 27 irl) while you the Reader are over 18. Yes, this is a consenting relationship inspired by the Netflix movie. 

Lastly, I present this to the lovely @frostandflamesfanfic​ who got me hooked on to Kit Young and the characters he portrays. Safe to say I died a few times watching this movie along him as Jesper in the Shadow and Bone series that is also on Netflix. 

====================================

“Join me” His voice echoes beacons to you, drawing you from your slumber. 

A shiver travels down your spine at the thrill of it all and in an instant, you feel the darkness surrounding you, caressing you and you are greeted not with the sight of your bedroom, but of him. 

Him

Oh, how alluring, powerful, seductive he looks standing there in the middle of the tower, his long coat draped over him, collar upturned, his gaze boring into your own, the faintest twitch of a smirk crossing his lips. 

“My love…” The breath catches in his throat, his gaze falling over your form and you find yourself crossing your arms almost embarrassed even to be in front of him in your night clothes. 

You take a step closer to him, swallowing your nerves, “Rafal…you called?” 

“No need to be embarrassed, my queen,” he closes the distance between you, not giving you a chance to respond before his thumb trails over your bottom lip, his unfathomable gaze sweeping over you as his other hand caresses your face oh so gently. 

Such a man of power and beauty before you and yet here he was holding you like the greatest treasure. You were in a way, though he wouldn’t dare admit it out loud, not even to himself deep down. 

Your body responds to him in kind, leaning into his touches, and all the caresses he bestows. His towering frame is comforting, his whole being surrounding you, protecting you. When his lips brush against yours, goosebumps scatter along your arms, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. 

His orbs glint red in the moonlight, hungrily searching your face memorizing you, his queen, the only truly evil one for him, you are his only weakness, the one tugging at the threads of his shriveled eons-old black heart. 

When your lips touch his once more, you feel the pounding of your foolish heart increase in your chest, your skin flooding with warmth. You might as well be begging on your knees in front of him asking to be touched. 

A cold metallic taste falls along your tongue when you pull away, gasping and panting, his eyes a beautiful haunting red. They always are when he looks at you. 

“What is it, my love? You can’t wait for me to kiss you, make you mine again, is that right? Do you want the entire school to see us together as one, the harbingers of chaos?” He growls deep in your ear, your heart skyrocketing further, the insatiable metallic taste on your tongue growing stronger. 

“Yes Rafal, I want you, always, my dearest prince. My true Evil love.” You groan nipping his lip harder, savoring the taste of him on your tongue. You tug the lapels of his glorious crimson coat drawing him to you closer, wanting to feel him and be seduced by his darkness once more. 

For you have been too long without him. 

His hand around your waist tightens as he sets you fully up on the table, pressing up against you more earning a gasp from you and you bite his lip harder. 

The sinful moan that falls from his beautiful lips is the perfect hell, dripping in ecstasy. Oh, how you want more, want to plead to the deepest darkest pits of darkness for more, for only he made you like this. 

Made you his and his alone. 

“I’ll always protect you, remember? My beautiful enchantress. So powerful and mine,” he gasps, lips latching onto your neck and peppering more along your jaw. 

He teases you further and further, lips and touches so near and yet so far away, twin planets powerful, circling each other in orbit. You can’t help but squirm, his hand on your waist not loosening up in the slightest, pinning you harder to the table. 

“Easy, love I’m here…” 

“Yes Rafal, and you’re mine,” you practically purr, meeting his desperation with a heated kiss of your own, the perfect balance of evil upon evil unmatched, untamable, unstoppable. 

Pure chaos. 

In a whirlwind you have him pinned to his bed hidden beyond the expanses of his tower and you love it the way he looks up at you, eyes glowing in the pitch-black darkness, the only light the faint glimmering of the moon from the poor excuse of a window on the opposite wall.

“You’re stunning, love.” 

A low growl falls from you when you pin him harder, pinning his wrists above his head a fraction. An evil glint crosses his eyes and in an instant, you’re pinned under him, your shirt absent due to his skillful hands, his lips trailing kisses along your collarbone and chest. You groan, gripping the sheets for dear life, your skin red hot and burning from the outside in.

“Hmm yes, that’s right. So far from good,” he all but purrs, drawing a whimpering moan from you.

A shudder also follows in the wake of his words, your fists gripping the sheets harder you’re sure your knuckles are white both from his lips and praises, struggling to maintain your resolve. 

Even then you try not to squirm when he tugs off the rest of your clothing leaving you bare and completely exposed to him and his beautiful chaos. His lips trailing along your chest send dangerous hellfire coursing through your being and all you want is for him to quench it, to claim you and make you his once more for eternity. 

“Rafal…my prince…please…” 

That’s all it takes those words falling from you in sonorous beautiful darkness, incandescent. He obliges then, taking you to the sweet bitter darkness beyond. 

The metallic taste never leaves your lips, making you hunger for more, more, more of him, your Prince of Evil. 

For you are his forever more beyond time and eternity never after. 

******

[myfavouritelunatic]

The Blacksmith

Many thanks once more to all who have read so far! It is appreciated more than you know! ❤️

Will our intrepid hero make it to the harbour in time?

Of course she will. Enjoy!

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Brief violence.

Links to Chapter One, Two, and Three.

Chapter Four

You made your way through the streets of Armenelos, which was easier than you had anticipated, as most of the citizens had gathered along the main paths for the parade of the soldiers. What you would give to see your king upon his horse, dressed in the finest Numenorian armour, making his way out of the city. You smiled to yourself knowing that despite missing this, you had made the choice to see much more of him, whether it was the right one or not. A pang of sadness struck you suddenly then as you realised Halbrand left before goodbyes could be said. You were no longer going to be on the docks to see him off. You had to be successful in your task at hand, there was no failure, there was no other outcome.

Steeling yourself, you moved on faster, reaching the harbour as your breath ran short. You saw final supplies being loaded onto one of the ships, crates bearing the sigil of the crown. That had to be the ship Halbrand would be sailing on. Trying to remain inconspicuous somehow, you wandered over to the people stowing the supplies and offered your assistance. Remarkably, you were not turned away. "Just grab that and come with me." spoke a heavyset bearded man with a croaky voice. He barely looked at you as you picked up one of the smaller crates to carry onboard. However someone else noticed the massive grin that had spread across your face.

"What are you smiling about?" spoke the man, this one was younger and better sounding than the last. Better looking too. "It's just- it's such a glorious day for our people isn't it?" "Mmm hmm." was all he could muster in response. "Numenor shall be seen as the saviour of Middle Earth! And return a king thought lost to time. What's not to be happy about?" Your words rang true but they were not the reason for your joy of course. The man laughed at you in pure amusement. He stepped closer to you, his sack of horse feed draped over his right shoulder. He spoke the moment you were below deck. "The only reason I am here is because I am being paid handsomely for it. My crew built these ships, and we have readied them for launch. Who am I to stop my purpose from being fulfilled? Even if it is to answer the call of a filthy she-elf." "Excuse me sir-" "You heard me. You think we're of the faithful? Pull the other one. Elendil should have left old pointy ears and the low man in the Sundering Seas to drown."

You stood there in shock at his words, processing how he wished for your love to be dead. This would not stand. When you didn't respond, he huffed then laughed some more. "C'mon, there’s still more to come." He turned and headed back up the stairs, and you followed calmly, pulling a dagger from your sack. The same dagger Halbrand had used against your father two nights before. You had spied it in his chambers before you left, and you thought it couldn't hurt to keep it close. Well, it couldn't hurt you anyway.

As you reached the top of the stairs, you put your arm around the young man, and the two of you wandered across to the far side of the ship, where the view of the ocean was the most spectacular. "Perhaps you are right. I must be trying to tell myself these things in order to placate my fears. Suppose if something befalls the Queen Regent on her quest then things might start to change around here." you stated, lying through your teeth. "Now that’s the sentiment I want to hear. I think I judged you too quickly, lady." "Yes, I think you did." the words had barely left your lips as your blade entered his belly. You clasped your hand over his mouth to stifle his cries, and you twisted the dagger slowly within him. His tears stained your skin. "Death comes to all who wish for the death of the king." you spat at him venomously, yanking the blade out quickly. Before too much blood spilt upon the deck, you pushed his lifeless form into the sea and watched as it sank out of sight. Seeing a bucket of water nearby, you used it to flush what remained of his existence over the edge. Luckily, your clothes had remained untouched by the red liquid, your hands would soon be clean, and none would be the wiser.

Noise rose in the distance, and you turned to see the parade approaching the harbour. Now was the time to descend back below the deck and hide. Hopefully you wouldn't have to stay out of sight for too long, but you would do so for as long as it took. As you wandered back down those steps, the last steps that young man would ever tread, what you had just done finally hit you. You had taken the life of another. This was not something you had ever done before, nor thought you would do. Your imagination conjured images of the man with his family, his friends... maybe he had a wife? A child? You had stolen him from them. The only solace remained that they would never learn of his true fate.

However there was a part of you that felt justified in your actions. A part of you that relished having his blood on your hands. He spoke ill of your love, of the king! That in and of itself could be considered treason could it not? He wished that Halbrand had succumbed to the seas, and the Lady Galadriel along with him. It was an absolutely horrendous thought. How dare that man, he deserved to slip beneath the waves instead. You thought. How could he think that of these two beings who would help to save Middle Earth- wait... save Middle Earth... I have felt that notion before, but not in the way I mean it now... Your thoughts were cut short by feet up on deck, and you tucked yourself away as best you could, and as comfortable as you could given the long journey you were about to embark on. Then you heard words spoken that practically made you sing. "Welcome aboard, King Halbrand." You had been right, this was the ship he would ride across the Sundering Seas. And you were on it with him.

After a short while, the ships were finally released from their docks, and you were sailing out to sea. You decided to wait till nightfall to venture out and find food, it would be easiest then to sneak around without being discovered. You spent this time patiently waiting by filling your thoughts with everything you and your love had done last night. Halbrand was unlike any man you had ever known. Sure there had been others before him, but none came this close. The feelings, the sensations he dragged out of you... you didn't even know your body capable of such desire. You knew it would be days perhaps weeks before you would feel that way again, so you kept replaying the ecstasy in your mind and waited for the sun to set.

Once darkness fell, you readied yourself to emerge, praying you wouldn't be found and thrown overboard or locked in the brig. Assessing your surroundings, you noticed you were luckily still alone down in the cargo hold, so the search for food would be short lived. As would your time in hiding it seems. A beautiful yet disappointed voice called your name from the shadow across the hold. It was Galadriel. "Somehow I knew fate wouldn't keep you apart. My suspicions were confirmed as much when I didn't see you on the docks like you promised." "Let me explain-" "Oh you will explain. Everything. You are interfering with matters that are greater than you know. Greater than even I know, and I have known much during the ages."

You sighed in frustration at her tone. She was more upset with you than you had anticipated. "There is nothing left for me in Numenor, Galadriel. Nothing. My father made sure of that. So finally one good thing comes along in my life and... I cannot let it go. I refuse. I will die without it." "Without Halbrand?" she paused in disbelief at your words. "No. Without Halbrand by your side, he will help to secure safety and wellbeing for his people, like he is meant to do." She rose from her seat, striding towards you swiftly until your faces were inches from contact. She continued through gritted teeth, "The second his eyes wander from that... that is the second the enemy will strike. And strike hard they will. You believe you will die without Halbrand? It is he who will die with you." "My father was going to kill me, Galadriel." you croaked, tears spilling fast from your eyes. "So I mean it quite literally that I will die without him."

You rendered Galadriel speechless as your words sunk in. "If all Halbrand did the past few days was talk of me, then surely he mentioned this. Or were you too preoccupied with your grand design for him that you paid him no attention?" "He did mention your father, yes." she spoke, her harsh tone lessening. "I am alive because of Halbrand. He saved me. Just like he will save his people. I promise you, if I must, I will stay away from him until the fight is over. I understand what he needs to do, I know how great of a purpose it is. I am not a fool." "Only a fool in love, it seems." spoke Galadriel, who chuckled suddenly. "I do not wish for you to be here. It is too great a risk. However, we are too far from Numenor now to send you back, and we cannot delay." she sighed in defeat, and you smiled in your victory. "This does not mean I am allowing you to leave this hold." she continued, "You are now my responsibility. I will decide where you go and when. And most importantly, who you see." "Thank you, Galadriel. Truly. I am sorry to force your hand like this but it was necessary." She bowed her head in response. "Stay here, I will gather you some cooked food. And some ale."

  After a few minutes she returned, two bowls and two flasks in arms. You spent the next hours listening, hanging on the she-elf's every word as she told you of the wonders of the world and the horrors of it as well. How she had spent the past millennia hunting down the very vile creature responsible for so much of it. The pain and determination crystal clear in her expression and voice as she regaled you. You suddenly began to realise that the longevity of the elves held with it much sorrow, for they would see people live and die, cities rise and fall, and they would lose greatly. Hearing Galadriel talk of her brother Finrod, and of her husband Celeborn, it broke your heart. Suddenly your selfishness crept its way into your mind and left you with a bitter taste. You had a chance at something Galadriel once knew and once lost. You wished somehow that you could give her that chance as well. And you hoped she would not harbour any resentment towards you or Halbrand as your love blossomed further.

"I'm going to see if there is any wine hidden on this ship. I cannot bear this ale any longer." she said, making you laugh. Your eyes followed her up the stairs and through the hatch, which she closed behind her. You wondered if this was the beginning of a new friendship, you both were getting along amicably. At least you hoped as much, as the alternative would not be as good given the fact she was Halbrand's closest companion. Plus you admired her so, and felt incredibly lucky to be in her presence. Galadriel was captivating, and just as remarkable as Halbrand had told you the night you met him.

Galadriel was taking longer than expected to return, you assumed it was likely due to her inability to locate any wine on this vessel. However she indeed finally came back, sans wine but with more ale and a third flask. This made your eyes light up. Surely not! She wouldn't! "I decided it was inevitable. Hopefully this will get most of the distracting out of the way." she spoke, moving away from the stairs to let the owner of the third flask down. Step by step he was revealed to you: King Halbrand in all his glory, his form covered in impressive burgundy tinted armour. The look on his face did not match this visage, for he was in pure shock at the sight of you. He spoke your name, barely above a whisper. "Are you really here... have I lost my mind...?" "That remains to be seen, Halbrand, but I can assure you, she is here." spoke Galadriel, without a hint of chagrin in her voice. You beamed at him, trying to find words. "You're here. You came." he spoke, still not believing it. "Yes. One cannot leave the side of their king, not in his greatest hour of need."   Halbrand let out a cry of joy, almost a cheer, as he swept across the room to where you stood, capturing you in his arms once again. You nuzzled tightly into him, not wanting to let go, the smile never fading from your face. You caught the eye of Galadriel and mouthed two words: "Hantanyë tyen." She smiled warmly and bowed her head, accepting your thanks. "Forgive me, but I do believe it is time for me to retire." she said, heading back towards the stairs. "Oh just one drink, will you?” your love blurted loudly. “Our time together has thus far been nothing but chaos and contempt. Plus it seems only my lady is getting to see the fun side of you, and I can't allow that." Halbrand really enjoyed stirring Galadriel, his eyes becoming alight with mischief. "Stay! Please."

You sided with Halbrand, nodding. "Yes please, Galadriel, I want to hear more stories of Valinor and the years of the trees." She gave in reluctantly, but she did so all the same. "One drink. Then I will retire." Her decision to remain made the two of you cheer, and Galadriel rolled her eyes at you as she poured the next round. Halbrand looked down at you lovingly, leaning in until his lips met yours, and you had never been so thankful for a kiss in all your life.

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