#ended up with her being an enemy in the palace

[silviakundera]

More of Story of Kunning Palace novel. This has spoilers for the princess' fate in the 1st life, which hasn't been revealed yet on the show. It also discusses her sexuality.

She is clear about the future fate of the Eldest Princess Leyang.

After the Yongyihou Mansion, which was originally in charge of the military power, was implicated in the old case of King Pingnan and exiled, within two months the northern Tatars were ready to move, claiming that the new king would succeed to the throne, and wanted to ask Dagan to marry the princess as his concubine. But the emperor did not want to use Yongyihou Mansion again and sent Princess Leyang to marry.

Four years later, the Tatars had finished recharging their energy, and they completely invaded with troops.

The civil and military forces of the Manchu Dynasty only welcomed back the coffin of the princess.

At that time, the emperor had changed to Shen Jie. In his grief, he overturned Shen Lang's conviction, rehabilitated the Yongyihou's mansion, and enabled Yan Lin, who had been exiled for four years. Yan Lin finally got his chance. He led his troops to quell the border chaos, expelled the Tatars, and killed the barbarians until they dared not cross the Dagan territory.

After that, it was Jiang Xuening's "disaster".

She remembered that when they first met in the previous life, she was dressed as a man, but she saw that Shen Zhiyi cared too much about the scar on her face, so she took the fine pen that others used to trace lanterns at the lantern festival, dipped in a little cherry powder, and put it on. She had drawn on that scar under her left eye.

At that time, Shen Zhiyi mistook her for a man and had feelings for her.

Later, the princess found out that she was a woman, so naturally couldn't bear it.

But before going to Tatar to get married, the princess specially invited Jiang Xuening to paint on her the same makeup as when they first met, and then sat quietly in front of the makeup mirror, looking at the delicate face in the mirror, but two lines of tears flowing across her cheeks.

After Shen Zhiyi left, Jiang Xuening asked herself many times: If there was another chance, would you still draw that stroke for her when you first met?

There was no answer.

She thought she wouldn't.

But now, when Shen Zhiyi stood in front of her alive again, and she really had such an opportunity, Jiang Xuening realized that her answer was: I will.

[ guys..... 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭]

.....

It's just that when she concentrated her eyes and looked back, she saw Shen Zhiyi's eyes staring at her at this moment, and suddenly her scalp went numb!

This look...

How can it be the same as the previous life? !

She subconsciously looked down at what she was wearing: it was indeed a woman's dress.

But why this look..?

In the blink of an eye, an unprecedented idea suddenly appeared in Jiang Xuening's mind, which made her tremble all over, and couldn't help but arouse a series of goosebumps—

Who said that in the previous life, Princess Leyang must have fallen in love with her because she disguised herself as a man?

It is not necessarily impossible for the same situation to have another explanation—

That is, seeing her dressed as a man, but with a feminine look, so she is drawn to her but the eldest princess herself may not know it!

If it is like this…

Jiang Xuening's finger, which was still clinging to the paintbrush before it could be put down, suddenly became stiff.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Aegon The Burnt

Aegon II Targaryen x sister!reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: infidelity (reader is Aemond's wife), incest, spoilers of s2ep5. Just something short and self indulgent, hope you like it!

masterlist

taglist: @barnes70stark

When you arrived at Aegon's chambers, he was alone. Your mother wasn’t by his side, nor was his wife Helaena, much less Aemond, who you were sure had been the cause of all that. Everyone was crazy, the war for power was making everyone's head sick in the Red Keep and it had ended up bringing you to that point.

When you learned that your brother had gone into battle when he wasn’t required, you knew that the consequences were going to be disastrous and you even hoped that upon returning to King's Landing the star news was the death of the king. But thank the gods he was still alive, fighting, but alive.

You hadn't dared to look at him until that moment, mentally unable to think that his body had been stained at the hands of dragon fire. Targaryens don't burn, do they? Could it be your ancestors punishing Aegon’s recklessness?

And you were sure they would punish the sin of parading a dragon's head around town. They were sacred, they were your emblem and your heritage... you thought that your mother would have this more in mind and that she wouldn’t approve of that kind of massacre. You couldn't imagine your beloved Kaeryss going into battle, dead at the hands of the enemy or perhaps even your own brother.

But now it was a dragon war, not even men could stop it.

“For the seven…” you sobbed softly, you barely got close to your brother and the whole smell of burnt flesh and rot filled your nostrils.

The maester had managed to do a few things to him, he was completely bandaged and was breathing heavily, a hiss leaving his lips with every exhale he took. It was a horrible sight to see for anyone, much less the only person who had genuinely loved Aegon.

The sight made you stagger back and you had to hold on to the bedposts to keep from falling. The worst thing of all was to think that it was the king who had brought this on himself, no matter how much they wanted to convince all his subjects that he had fought bravely and had struck down Meleys.

If you had known before what he intended to do, you would have implored him to stop, you would have persuaded him with kisses and cuddles to stay in the palace. Damn, you would have gotten him drunk and fucked for hours if it kept him safe. Or ultimately, you would have told him how stupid he was for trying to go to war solely on a whim, with a dragon with no experience in battle being ridden by a man with less experience.

But past mistakes couldn't be corrected just by thinking about all the possibilities, instead you had to face the consequences.

You looked at him for a moment, trying to put aside the tremendous disgust that the burning flesh produced in you. If you dared to say that out loud, you knew that Aegon would feel tremendously hurt, since he had never boasted of having the best self-esteem, so you had to be cautious with your words and gestures when he came to his senses.

You took a seat next to the bed, in a modest chair that had surely been occupied by someone else hours before, and you tried to hold back the tears that were already gathering in your eyes. While you saw the king lying in bed, at risk of dying at any moment, you wondered how far this conflict would go.

Aegon had always expressed that he didn’t want to be king and now that he was, he turned out to be a useless one. You weren’t going to soften truths in your mind, because you, as everyone knew, that the king's claim had been a treacherous one. You had been happy that your sister could aspire to be a queen, even if you hated her and her unbearable descent. But hating her didn't mean you wanted to see so many people die, much less the innocent and weak ones as always happened.

Sometimes you wondered what would have happened if your parents had married you to Aegon instead of your brother Aemond. You couldn't blame Helaena for hating her husband, just as you hated yours, perhaps for different reasons but with the same impetus. You probably would have preferred to marry him because of the treatment he had always offered you, being kind, loving and careful. And you knew that it was wrong to love him secretly from your husband and that it was a very serious offense for a lady, but you didn't care and you assumed that if Aemond knew, he didn't care either. He never loved you, you didn't know the reasons but you were sure of it.

One of your hands traveled to the man lying on the bed to take it, carefully, and you gently caressed the healthy skin that still remained.

“Mummy?” you heard, like an almost imperceptible moan. Aegon could barely open his right eye weakly.

“No, no, honey. It’s me,” you whispered sweetly, leaning slightly so he could hear you over the smell of rot. You said your name out loud just in case he didn't recognize your voice.

He wanted to say something, but at first the tremendous pain in his chest prevented him from doing so. The maester said that he must have had many internal injuries and that only time and the grace of the gods could decide if those injuries were serious enough to kill him. You hoped not.

“My princess,” he managed to gesture.

You were always called that way, simply because Aegon considered that you did him full honor to the title and because you seemed to him his and no one else's.

“Don't try too hard,” you whispered motherly, reaching out to rub the right side of his face with unexpected love. You had to stay calm to ignore the burns. “You need to rest.”

Aegon, from his vulnerable position, looked at you sadly and you saw a tear escape his eye. It was as if with that look he was expressing to you everything he couldn't tell you.

“Does it hurt a lot?” you asked worried. It was an obvious answer, you thought, but you at least wanted him to realize that the situation mattered to you.

When he nodded weakly, you felt tremendously sorry for him. Seeing him like this completely broke your heart and if you could have done it, you would have wished you could take away all that pain in a second.

“My poor boy…” you murmured softly, still caressing his cheek gently. The man felt as if your touch was magical, healing in every way: the simple fact of having you close comforted him.

“Stay?"

“Of course I do, Aegon,” you said in a whisper.

“I'm… I'm horrendous”

“You're not,” you responded to his sob. The last thing you wanted was for him to think that you were despising him, like everyone else was going to do. You had managed to gain his trust before, however, with this physical change you knew that his fears would only increase “I love you always, honey. I promise"

And as a sign of this, you leaned close enough to place a kiss on his lips. You were very careful not to touch his wounded skin and tried to be as kind as possible with him. You wanted to show him that you weren't afraid of him, nor disgusted by him, as he was probably thinking.

There was no purer love like the one you were showing him and Aegon felt unworthy of it.

"Please… don’t leave”

“I won't,” you assured him, sitting back down and leaning against the mattress. “Don't be afraid, I'm here and I'll stay to take care of you all night, okay?”

Aegon cried silently and tried to hold on to the feeling of your hand holding his, for it was the only feeling that would keep him sane. He felt that as long as you continued to love him and stayed with him, he could overcome any adversity.

[sapphicjackal]

Baby Dimension au

inspired by this

Baby dimension au

One of the many things that had always bothered Shen Yuan about Proud Immortal Demon Way was the way that Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky treated Luo Binghe’s children. 

By the time that Luo Binghe was into his centuries long reign and the story completed, Luo Binghe had dozens of children. Some were named, and others were only known by the fact that their mother had to go into seclusion in the background of a harem drama. The exact number of his kids were unknown, and Luo Binghe showed little to no interest in them beyond their continued survival.

To ensure his children’s survival, Luo Binghe used Xin Mo to create a pocket dimension of sorts. Only his most trusted servants would be selected with the task of living permanently in these hidden realms to raise his children. Each child had their own separate pocket realm and caretaker, with children born of the same mother being grouped together.

Some of the more filial mothers spent time with their children, and Shen Yuan quietly suspects that a number of the ditched Harem members chose to live with their children instead of in the palace full of snakes. 

The reason the fan dubbed ‘baby dimension’ came into existence was because of Luo Binghe’s first children. 

Luo Binghe’s foray into fatherhood began with his first two children, Luo Meiying and Luo Fang. 

When Luo Binghe lived on Qing Jing Peak, he had made a promise with Ning Yingying that when he married her, they would have a beautiful child together. Once the three realms had been unified, revenge had been taken, and the harem had been settled; Airplane introduced that retconned promise. Ning Yingying asked if they could finally have a baby together and Luo Binghe agreed.

Of course, this sent Sha Hualing into a jealous fit. She acted out and terrorized the other harem members until Luo Binghe agreed to give her a child as well. To prevent Sha Hualing from escalating and trying to do anything to make Ning Yingying miscarry, Luo Binghe agreed to impregnate her as well.

Naturally this led to a threesome sex maraton between Ning Yingying, Sha Hualing, and Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe gathered a fertility lotus plant for the two of them, and they locked themselves away in Luo Binghe’s chambers for 3 days. The two girls spent the whole time fighting each other and vying for Luo Binghe’s attention as well as more turne with the Heavenly Pillar. 

It ended with both of the wives undeniably pregnant.

Fast Forward some harem antics where some wives tried to sabotage the pregnancies, and a lot of kinky pregnancy related sex, the two babies were born. Ning Yingying’s daughter, Luo Meiying, and Sha Hualing’s son, Luo Fang. Luo Binghe was there for the births of his children and he seemed genuinely pleased about it. Sha Hualing and Ning Yingying were obviously the most favored wives for a time, as Luo Binghe exclusively dual cultivated with either of them and spent a lot of time with his children.

Then the readers got bored of this domestic arc.

Luo Binghe’s children were faced by constant threats, targeted by the harem and his enemies alike. The dangers were so numerous that Sha Hualing herself wanted to go into seclusion with her child, just so that her son would survive. Of course, she was more motivated by the fact she didn’t want to lose the leverage that the child gave her after all of the effort she spent bringing it into the world, but still. It was a problem.

The solution?

Creating a series of Hidden Realms using Xin Mo. 

Since the space was only accessible through Xin Mo, nobody could threaten the safety of his children any longer. He allowed his wives to choose their most loyal servant to entrust the task of raising their children. After setting them up with all they would need, and telling the mothers they could ask any time for visits, he left the children to be raised in the Hidden Realms, with the expectation they could leave once they reach adulthood.

After that, his children were promptly forgotten and only mentioned in passing.

Ning Yingying ended up having another child later on, and that one joined his older sister in the Baby Dimension after being weaned. 

From there, pregnancies and children were only mentioned in passing. There were no updates as to what goes on in the Baby Dimensions, and Luo Binghe’s children became yet another forgotten plot line. 

Any children he had were forgotten in favor of an ever expanding harem of women who were wedded, bedded, and forgotten.

The whole thing bothered Shen Yuan immensely, being a common topic that he brought up in his vicious reviews of each chapter. Yes, Luo Binghe was a blackened stallion protagonist, but it didn’t make sense for his character to simply have a bunch of children that he forgot existed in favor of getting his dick wet. Luo Binghe seemed to genuinely love his children during the time before he sent them away, and it was the closest thing to happiness that he displayed since the beginning of the story with his adoptive mother.

None of the other fans cared about it, so Luo Binghe’s unknown number of children were thoroughly forgotten. Even the end of the story didn’t address the children whatsoever! Not even a mention of Luo Binghe having an heir, let alone multiple.

Shen Yuan had never forgotten about it, but it did get tucked away in some far off corner of his mind after he transmigrated. 

Now, he lived as Shen Qingqiu, and he was happily married to his own version of Luo Binghe.

The reason all of his prior frustrations came racing back to him is because his husband asked if they could have children. The two of them had been married for 15 years now, and a lot of the problems from earlier in their relationship had been worked on. Luo Binghe was no longer as intensely jealous because of his abandonment issues to the point that having children would be upsetting to him.

They were in a good place to start discussing things. 

Shen Qingqiu had stepped down as Peak Lord with the rest of the Qing generation in favor of their successors, and instead moved full time to the Demon Realm. He had long since revealed his true identity as a transmigrator to his Husband, so Shen Yuan adopted his old name once he left the Human Realm.

Their rule was secure, they had been married for years, and their relationship was stable. It seemed like the perfect time to add to the family.

There did exist flowers and relics that could allow men to get pregnant, however, once Luo Binghe brought up the topic, Shen Yuan’s mind instantly went to the abandoned children of Luo Bingge.

Shen Yuan knew that his Binghe would be a wonderful father, one that would never abandon his children. Shen Yuan never really got over the fact that all those children had been made and discarded, out of sight and out of mind.

So, he made a deal with Binghe.

They would have one biological child together, but after that, any additional children would be ones that they obtained from Binghe’s counterpart. Binghe initially protested, wanting nothing to do with that imposter, but Shen Yuan laid out the way all of those children had been abandoned and how it had bothered him for years.

It took some arguing and tears, but eventually an agreement was made.

Luo Binghe bore pregnancy with grace and sneakily used his blood parasites to ensure that egg split, resulting in twins. Luo Binghe was ecstatic with pregnancy, having fought to be the one that carries the child. Shen Yuan thought that as the Emperor, Luo Binghe should be the one to get him pregnant, but Luo Binghe said he’d only agree to snatching the imposter’s children if he gets to give birth to Shizun’s babies.

Shen Yuan gave in to prevent having a Qi deviation over the sheer nonsense that Luo Binghe spewed.

Shen Mingyu and Shen Yongrui were fraternal twins, a girl and boy. They both took after Shen Yuan more in looks, but shared Luo Binghe’s curly hair, something that Shen Yuan was extremely pleased with. The two were doted on and spoiled endlessly, beloved by their parents and people, who were happy to have an actual heir at last.

When the children were 4, Luo Binghe started to get restless, asking for more. 

Thus began their newfound hobby of breaking into Baby Dimensions and kidnapping children.

Well, to be more exact.

Thus began a series of excursions where they traveled to various baby dimensions to meet with the children there and get to know them. When they offered the opportunity to leave and come with them to their own world, each and every child jumped at the chance to leave, even knowing ahead of time that Luo Binghe wasn’t the father that sired them.

They didn’t do it too often. Not wanting to do the same thing as the original and forget about their children and spending time with them because they valued quantity. They made sure that each and every one of their children were loved, regardless of if they were created by them specifically.

Each new addition to their family brought joy to their lives. Shen Yuan truly couldn’t understand how Luo Bingge didn’t adore each of these wonderful beings that he helped create. Shen Yuan loved all of his children, and they were each a blessing.

Maybe Shen Yuan got a little ambitious, because he started to want the two that started it all. Luo Meiying and Luo Fang, the ones that almost could have had a loving father if only the readers hadn’t gotten bored of domesticity. Shen Yuan wanted them to have better. He had avoided taking them thus far because they were the children of the main and favored wives, but they had taken close to a dozen children without notice over the years.

Just like the rest of their siblings, Luo Meiying and Luo Fang agreed to join them. 

However, this time they caught the attention of Luo Bingge. Turns out, Luo Bingge had been noticing his children dwindling, so he set extra protections around all of his remaining children so that he could catch the culprit and save his missing children, if they were still alive.

Luo Bingge came to demand his children back, but his children all claimed that they were Shen Yuan and Luo Bingmei’s children.

Bingge doesn’t actually have THAT many kids at this point in the timeline

SY was grossly overestimating how many kids LBG had in general

atm Bingge only had like 18 kids and Bingqiu stole 10 of them

Bingge does actually check on his kids when he can get away from his harem (which isn’t often)

this is yet another thing that the fake has stolen from him

even his own flesh and blood prefer an imposter over their own father

it really fucks Bingge up

plus side is that he figures out that Nice Shizun is actually named Shen Yuan

then he finds his own SY

And he makes sure that the rest of his kids won’t get stolen by abolishing the baby dimensions and bringing the kids out

SY becomes their teacher

Bingge believes in adopted parent relationships so he doesn’t try to take his kids back, but he does fall into a weird shared custody agreement with Bingqiu

Bingge makes harming his children punishable by death, and his wives are NOT exempt from this. Little Palace Mistress finds this out the hard way when she tries to eliminate one of Bingge’s daughters and gets publicly executed.

Bingge overhauls the harem in general, because now he has got his priorities in order. Which are railing his kid’s teacher, and also taking care of his kids because he doesn’t want them to get taken from him and lose out on them.

Bingge stops expanding his harem and even downsizes it, plus he works out something other than dual cultivation to control Xin Mo because having sex is cutting into his time braiding his children’s hair. And also trying to sleep with their teacher.

Bingge finds being a dad a lot more fulfilling than being a harem master and emperor of the united realms, and also fucking his children’s teacher. That also fills him better.

[merchen-aeravellae]

Under your balcony

Warnings: suicide, arranged marriage, manipulation, stalking, use of poisons

The beautiful city of Valvevia hides more than great museums and palaces that people can admire during the day, it also hides desperate monsters that hide at night without anyone observing them.

°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●°•○●

Desperate Romantic Yandere who is supposed to hate you, after all, both families have been enemies for centuries and it doesn't seem like that situation will change anytime soon.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who couldn't help but have a crush on you since you two were teenagers, always looking for an opportunity to be close to you or to be noticed.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who already has all his friends annoyed, he only talks about you day, afternoon and night, and even when he sleeps, you are the only thing on his mind.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who infiltrates your family's parties just to see you up close, but he is careful that the rest of your family does not notice his presence, he would not like you to see him while he fights with a relative yours.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who can't help but feel bitter and at times angry, if only the two families were not in disputes and fights all the time, he would have already asked for your hand in marriage a long time ago.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who thinks you might be interested in him too, in his mind there is no other man who loves you as much as he loves you and that should be one of the reasons why he is the one for you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who is oblivious to the fact that you also hate his family, including him, that you would rather jump off a bridge or stick a sword in your heart than date him voluntarily.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who sneaks into your house every night to be able to watch you under your balcony wishing he could watch you before going to sleep.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who once tried to recite a poem to you under your balcony and having the moon as a witness, described the eternal love that he felt for you and that he wanted nothing more than to be by your side for all eternity.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who ended up running if he didn't want to end up with a pot on his head, in his hideout he could hear you yelling curses and threats, but that didn't make him fall in love less, quite the opposite.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who can also be very manipulative and unstable, and that side of him came out when he found out that your family were planning to marry you to the son of a marquis, his room became a mess after hearing the news.

Desperate Romantic Yandere thought of a thousand ideas to avoid that marriage, but nothing seemed good enough.

Desperate Romantic Yandere had an idea when one of the many nights of visiting you under your balcony, he dazzled a young woman who was walking near where he was.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who recognized the young lady, it was your younger cousin who he had only heard very little about her and who at that moment he had decided to use her as a pawn to get to his lover, you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who began to court her in secret, filling her with "love" and gifts, reciting poems about a future together and pouring out all a passionate love poems that are really for you, refuses to write poems for another person that is not you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who can't help but laugh maliciously, in less than 3 weeks he made this woman fall at his feet begging for more of his love, every day he was closer to reaching the last facet of his plan.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who convinces her that everyone wants to separate them when in fact no one but them knows about their "relationship" and that they should go to more extreme measures to avoid being separated, he tells her that they should commit double suicide.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who advised her to write a letter describing how she had fallen madly in love with a member of the enemy family excluding his name, he would not risk them discovering his plan, much less you and that they had decided of their own free will to end their lives so as not to have to live another day without each other.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who gives her the white widow poison, a poison so deadly that the person dies in minutes without a cure to reverse the effect, convinces her that after her, he will also take the poison a lie and while he watches her die, thinks about who will be the poor soul of his own family who will take the role of the unfortunate lover.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who chooses his older cousin, if he disappeared, Desperate Romantic Yandere would be the next on the list to be the successor to take the title of duke, that would give him more advantage in being able to be with you.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who watches with joyful eyes as the city of Valvevia goes into a state of panic when they discover the tragedy of the ill-fated lovers, the two families involved are devastated and have no time to continue their quarrel as they are so busy mourning their dead.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who convinces his family that they should make a peace deal with the other family, but not just any deal, but a marriage deal and convinces them that you and he would be the best option, if the family wants to protest he reminds them about the recent tragedy and how they could avoid a similar event in the future.

Desperate Romantic Yandere that his plan was a complete success when he discovered that your marriage with the maques had been canceled and that your family had accepted the marriage proposal that his family had sent in a letter while explaining the advantages of a union of the two families.

Desperate Romantic Yandere who is so ecstatic to see you walk down the aisle of the church towards him, daydreaming about what married life would be like and that he finally had everything he deserved. Instead, you were dying inside, first you had lost your darling little cousin and now you've been forced to marry the worst man you've ever known, and you were convinced that somehow he had planned all of this.

Desperate Romantic Yandere "to be with you is my dream, everything I long for and desire, it is my need and my reason for being"

[iongwaiyi]

mulan: the best disney character ever made

okay, i may be in a disney phase right now. but as a fellow asian, there is no way i'm going to talk about disney princesses without mentioning the best disney princess (character) disney has ever made - mulan.

originally a legendary chinese folk heroine from the northern dynasty era in chinese history. the disney adaptation of mulan is somewhat similar, only difference is that she had siblings in the original folklore, and she had to go to war because her brother was too young and her father was too old, and at the end, she revealed her identity only after returning home.

let's face it, the fact that a disney princess went to war made her stand out from the rest of the lineup. let's go over a few badass facts about her in the movie: 1. she wasn't going to give up because she did bad in training. her perseverance and determination led to her trying over and over, pulling herself up that pole that literally no other men in the army could do. she's unbending, not willing to give up without putting up a fight, and she not only proved to li shang and her peers that she's not weak, she proved to herself after all that self-doubt that she's just as capable as anyone else, more than anyone else if anything. 2. the fucking avalanche scene. the fact that she was smart enough, quick-witted enough to plot that within seconds with her enemy right in front of her, clearly using her brain for a good cause to save her entire army which consisted of about 50 people against thousands of huns. war is about tactics, and she demonstrated just that. she also ignored the pain of her wound to pull li shang up from the snow just shows her loyalty to her troops. 3. even after being thrown out of her army in the middle of the mountains full of snow, seeing the huns rising from the snow, she knew she gotta alert li shang that they were coming. despite li shang not believing her (or tried to ignore her), she tried her best to come up with ways in attempt to save her country from potentially being invaded. at that moment, she didn't care about the fact that she literally lost her dignity in front of everyone, she only cared about her country, her homeland, and that just shows how selfless she is.

4. the last scene was probably the most badass out of the entire movie. again, plotting a scheme within minutes in attempt to save the emperor, coming up with ways to get into the palace, get into the emperor's room, and revealing her identity as ping to shan yu to save li shang again. best part was, the only weapon she had in her hand was a fan, it not only symbolized her identity as a female, but also the fact that she was a female in the army. (fucking pulling the sword out of the fan was so badass i need to insert the gif here)

everything about that scene was perfect. it wasn't entirely serious, some ridiculous humor was implemented there and there, but also allowed for one final demonstration of how strong mulan is, not physically, but mentally.

5. actually, this last one might be the most badass. she didn't bring honor to her family (and herself) by marrying a man, starting a family like what the society expected her to, she earned a standing ovation, a collective bow from the entire country of china and the emperor with her own hands. best part? she didn't care about the honor, she didn't care about the fact that she was offered a position in the council as a female, she only cared about her family, her father. love was what made her strong. gracefulness, bravery, loyalty, and intelligence are just a few of her qualities. not only was the character full of great qualities, her imperfections were also shown, her stubbornness and clumsiness. it felt as though she was a real human because of her merits and faults, and her character development throughout the movie never ceases to amaze me.

again, i don't want to go on forever about this, but one thing will never change - mulan will always be my favorite fictional character ever created.

my little baby is all grown up and ... and savin' china

[unluckycactus]

Noble Boarding School AU

I’m disappointed in the shortage of Noble Boarding School AUs, so my brain just birthed one.

Quick note: Cale here stands for og!Cale.

Now, picture this: instead of waiting for years to start acting out, Cale Henituse age eleven convinces Deruth to send him to a noble boarding school. Violan is pregnant with Lily so the timing is just right, Cale wants to create the narrative that he’s getting kicked out.

Deruth is unsure, but Cale convinces him by throwing a fake tantrum after fake tantrum. He’s sick of being stuck at home all day, he says; he needs friends, yadda yadda. Cale relentlessly pushes and pushes and pushes, until Deruth finally gives up.

Cale has a plan! He’s going to become the worst troublemaker this school has, tarnish his reputation to the point his family is ashamed of him and the vassals can’t plead his case any longer, then make a huge mess to get expelled in a couple of years.

—except, Cale’s plan ends obliterated when he accidentally becomes the first year’s valedictorian.

"No, I was not standing up for the students! I was just complaining!", "I didn't intend to expose the staff corruption, I was trying to start trouble!" "I was trying to start a riot, not to form an student council!"

Who’s here:

Alberu — Reason: scammed the Queen.

Basically, she wanted to get rid of him to cement her children’s positions in the palace without his interference and tried to send him abroad.

Alberu is no fool and recognizes this is a good opportunity for networking: however, he won’t let his enemies peacefully get rid of him. He says ‘hell, no’ and pulls a Perez (In This Life, I Will Be The Lord/I Shall Master This Family) making the Queen pay him out of her own pocket to get rid of him.

Rosalyn — Reason: fooled her parents.

Our gal just wanted to study magic and the academy has a magic program, she basically lives a double life and her family has no idea.

Taylor Stan (uncrippled) — Reason: buying himself some time away from his crazy family to network in peace.

Eric Wheelsman & Gilbert — Reason: I just want them there.

I wouldn’t include Amiru because I’d like Amiru to focus in her own territory, therefore being homeschooled.

The reason why I’d add Gilbert is because, well, if the school has a magic program why not a knight program as well? Yes, it is just an excuse so I can add Choi Han as well.

I also would make Kim Rok Soo transmigrate as a teacher or something, too.

[nonbinarylocalcryptid]

Astyanax takes another step towards the reconciliation with Odysseus, long snippet ahead, grab some popcorn

One cannot be raised by Odysseus and not ended up being resourceful. In the following week after finding himself alone in Trojan territory, Astyanax had managed to do a few things.

Using the curtains from the palace, he made a cape and something to cover his face while he scouted the ruins filled of dus. This way he managed to find ink and paper, which he use to let letters in the main doors of what was the city of Troy once before.

With the longest stick he could find, he draw in the wet sand of the beach the map of his travels, one he has always known from memory, and with the memory of Eurylochus' voice, he used the stars to situate Troy in said map.

He didn't build a refuge, the weather allowed him to sleep at the beach, covering himself with the curtains once more. Food wasn't a problem either, after sharpening his stick, it was a matter of patience and stabbing some fishes in the water at the shore.

The little ghost even made a bow, rough and rudimentary, but it served it purpose.

The problem came when he thought about leaving Troy. Building a raft wasn't a plan, it won't survive the distance he wanted to cover, and he didn't know if he could build another later on. Every small boat he had managed to find was rotten, so that was out of the question too.

And of course, he didn't even think once about asking the gods for help, cynic as he was of them. Pity that they didn't think the same.

An owl had been following from afar the whole week. He didn't have any interest in befriending Athena, nor he wanted to be her enemy, but the owl couldn't be blame for being the goddess' puppet, so Astyanax let him half of every fish he captured.

The bird was actually a good listener.

"Shouldn't you be doing anything else? Stalking me can't be that funny, I'm just a boy!"

Sometimes he commented on the situation, puzzled.

"What about helping Odysseus? He's in a lot of shit right now. Calypso has only been nice to me, but that doesn't mean she's nice to him...look, I'm worried about him, ok? All alone in that island with that woman and his luck? Not a good combination."

The owl never answered of course, but in exchange for his kindness, the bird guided him to a box of candles, deep in the palace. The boy brought the opened box to his nose, lowering the cloth that covered his face, and marveled at the delicate smell that came from the candles. He knew exactly what to do with them.

He went to the pile of rotten wood that stood in the main place, as he has been doing every time he needed to light up some fire. The wood that caused once Troy's fall was now keeping him dry and warm, there was something poetic in that, and in a way, Odysseus was taking care of him again, despite the original purpose of the wooden horse.

Astyanax looked for a corner of the place where the wind won't disturb the flame of a candle, and there, he light up one of them and make his offer. A leaf with water, a shiny seashell, a rock with the colour of the Moon, a few drops of blood and a piece of his hair.

Yes, he was a cynic, but he was no atheist. Defying the gods was one thing, but having been raised by a religious man, he would never renounce them.

"I pray to Artemis, Goddess of the Moon and the hunt, carer of children, may her bless this bow and protect me in my deeds. I pray to Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, may her stop me from succumbing to Ares and the nonsense of vengeance. I pray to Hermes, God of Messages and Travelers, may him..."

A laugh interrupted him.

"You know, I'm already here, you may as well ask me in person."

Astyanax stood and turned to look at Hermes.

"I thought someone would show up", he admitted, "but I wasn't expecting you."

"Oh, you know me, I like surprises."

"Do you now." The boy let the candle burning and the box next to it. Their purpose was fulfilled. "What can I do for you, herald of the gods?"

He walked to the beach, Hermes following behind.

"Shouldn't I be asking that question, my friend? Look at you! Leaving messages here and there! Yelling at Zeus to spread your word! I'm curious, whose the recipient? Who should receive your words of defiance?"

"They're not of defiance."

"Then what?"

"Hope. That's my message to every Trojan survivor and to the gods," Astyanax look into the distance, lost in thought, "Troy will rise again, that's my message. But before that..."

He slide downwards through a sandy dune, moving towards the shore.

"...before that I must get Odysseus home, I have nothing without him, no family and no purpose. I can't rebuild Troy in my own and I can't let him alone no longer with Calypso." He stared at his map, calculating distances in his mind. "I must get back to him quickly."

"That's a great plan, what a shame he's no longer at Calypso's anymore."

"Wait what." Astyanax stopped in his track, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

Another laugh came from Hermes.

"I mean what I said, friend! He's at the sea as we talk, and in great danger."

"Of course he is," said the boy as he rolled his eyes, "it wouldn't be him if he wasn't."

He looked at his map again, thinking.

"I'm too far away from Calypso's," he murmured to himself, "I'm closer to Ithaca, unbelievable. No raft would survive the trip but...you are still here."

Always the jokester, Hermes mirrored his calculating face, but he was smiling.

"You still haven't asked me for anything."

"You are going to make me beg?"

"Beg? Who do you think I am? Do I look like Zeus to you? Nah, you want something that I can give, all you have to do is ask."

"No tricks?"

"No tricks."

Astyanax stared at the sea, knowing that beyond the horizon, beyond Ithaca, was his father.

"I want a way to reach him in time, nothing else."

Hermes clapped his hands.

"A thoughtful wish, that's for sure!" He bowed, still smiling. "I came here with something for you, you know? It's good to know that you also want it."

Reaching into his satchel, Hermes took out...

"Wait, really? A pair of your winged sandals?" Astyanax was shocked.

"What? You don't want them?" Hermes laughed.

"I didn't say that! I-I... it's because I know what it means."

With his free hand, Hermes ruffled Astyanax's hair. The boy blushed, fast.

"Aww, he's shy because he is under my protection now!" The god didn't doubt in mocking him. "Come on, put them on! They must be exactly your size."

"Y-yes, of course."

"Hm, they look good. Ok, walk a little, yes, now a little sprint...they suit you! I don't need them back, but use them wisely!"

Astyanax nodded, still red as a tomato.

"And because I'm awesome and those are my sandals after all, not only they are disguised as normal shoes, they also light up if you stomp your foot! Cool, isn't it?"

"Really cool," agreed the kid, "you are so random, I love it."

"Glad to hear that! It's part of my charm, my friend. And last, but not least..." Hermes winked, before handing him two sticks. "Be careful with them, have you ever heard of 'don't play with fire'?"

Astyanax grabbed the sticks, but Hermes didn't let go, still playful, but now serious.

"These sticks, when rubbed together, always make fire, I don't need to warn you about the dangers of fire, do I?"

"I'm aware of the danger."

"Good! Now, for my last little gift... don't you have some kind of rope?"

The boy, surprised, pointed at the curtains he took from the palace the first day he found himself at Troy.

"I didn't find any rope, so I cut some stripes from the curtains and then braided them."

"That's perfect, now, gimme gimme gimme...good, now give me your haaaand...yes yes yes, there, a nice friendship bracelet!"

"Mmm...what for"

"To find that father of yours, of course! You just have to ask."

Astyanax looked at Hermes, then looked at the rough braid that was now around his wrist, long hanging ends and all, and decided it was worth a try.

"Where's Odysseus of Ithaca?"

In a heartbeat, the loose ends starting floating, no, pointing...

"Great! So I just have to follow...and fly there." He said, remembering his new sandals. "The last thing I told him was that I hated him...he must think I abandoned him. Thank you, Hermes, how can I repay you?"

"Repay me? What for? Don't be boring, my friend, that's more than enough."

"Boring? I'm the righteous heir to the Trojan throne, I don't think I can be boring."

"That's the spirit, friend, good luck out there!"

And then a flying pre-teenager with two fire-sticks and a lot of self confidence aids Odysseus against Charybdis

Also, Astyanax in this point of his life:

[gaysindistress]

Allies or Enemies - one

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

pairings: Dragonborn!bucky x f!reader

Summary: The reality of her cruel world is more evident than ever before when her stepfather sends her to her death under the guise of diplomacy. Y/n, the expendable daughter of a scared king, must find a way to secure her own protection among the Dragonborn and she will do that by whatever means necessary.

Warnings: mild cursing

Word count: 3.3k

series masterlist | main masterlist

taglist: @unaxv

“The king requires your presence.”

“But were I to require that he does not bother me, my request would be ignored. We cannot always have the things that we desire,” I sigh whilst continuing to read the journal in front of me.

The handwriting is terrible, so much so that I can barely finish a page in 5 minutes but given that the king has been demanding my presence at every chance that he gets, I continue with my struggles. An older woman stands in the doorway and I can feel her glare at me with a hatred that I imagine is reserved only for me. After all, my mother is the one who married her lover.

“Now.”

The finality in her tone would’ve caused a younger me to look up in fear but I’ve grown used to the stern reality of our world. As the eldest daughter of the queen, I’ve been educated in every form of manipulation that can be conveyed through the voice. As the child of the late king and the unwanted stepchild to the current king, I’ve been taught that I am the only protection that I have. No one will come to my aid or offer me guidance when I need it. No one will tend to my wounds when the cruel servants of the king lash me with their words. No one will care for me in the way that my younger sisters are looked after. No one would even bat an eye if I were to vanish into thin air. They might celebrate if that were to happen.

The woman whom I despise just as much as she me repeats herself with a heavy huff as if I have greatly inconvenienced her by breathing the same air as her or simply existing. Whether it be my existence or continued residence at the palace that is more vexing to her is yet to be determined I’ve decided.

The journal before me bound in precious leather and gold thread suddenly becomes unimportant. While it details the various races of creatures that occupy these lands and would prove to be useful in my studies, it will do nothing to shield me from the king’s wrath. My fingers drift away from the frayed edges and allow it to close by itself, prompting small dust specks to flutter around it. The black silk ribbon that I wound around the end of my braid is dangling above the curious journal, trailing its delicate ends over the monstrous illustrations hidden in its opulent bindings. The ribbon, much like my heart, yearns to open it once more and lose myself in its pages but is bound by duty to ignore such a yearning.

“Your highness,” she demands in a tight voice, “We are to leave now.”

Rolling my eyes would most certainly earn me a slap across the face but it doesn’t stop me from squeezing them shut in frustration. Standing up from my desk, I swipe at the dust on my lap, smearing gray streaks across the thick black fabric of my over skirt. She makes a small noise of disgust at the action, no doubt complaining loudly in her mind that being presentable is not something I know how to do. We make eye contact for a brief moment and she is quick to turn on her heel, forcing me to nearly jog to catch up so that I may follow this hateful woman to my certain death.

The Beloved King Anthony Starkov had been a wonderful king at first. After the invasion of the Dragonborn and the apparent failure by my father to protect his nation, Anthony seemed like a god sent. He rode in on a pure white horse with the head of the most fearsome Dragonborn knight on his sword as he declared that he was now king. My mother, the poor grieving widower queen, had no choice but to accept his proposal and promise to care for us. He’s doted on her, showered her with affection and gifts, and most importantly he treated me as if I were his own. Following my father’s death and living in fear of Dragonborn attack’s, a protective shield was all I prayed for. My mother could barely protect herself from the onslaught of the court’s cruel words and it became apparent that soon they would turn on me. It was not for a lack of trying surely but due to the fact that she was not a man. As the angry old woman who calls herself my advisor likes to remind me, a woman is only as powerful as the man that marries her and that meant my mother had no power until Anthony.

The moment that Anthony took the crown and later my mother’s hand, we’d all thought that this would be the bright moment in our bleak lives that we’d been looking for. The nation of York was at peace when it had been a foreign concept to me and many others after the Dragonborn had launched their attack. The love that Anthony and my mother shared burned brighter than the terror that my father had allowed into our land.

Until the rumors of his cruel actions behind closed doors began to spread.

The help always gossiped against themselves and no one truly paid any mind.

That is until evidence accompanies these rumors.

My mother did well to hide what she could but once again there was only so much that she could do to protect me. When my sisters came along, I presume that Anthony no longer felt anger towards her but instead towards me, the last reminder of the Failed King. I’d always had pitying stares and endured hushed conversations where my name slipped between their fingers as they whispered to each other.

Poor child.

I heard that she’s going to be married off as soon as possible.

I heard that she’s just as weak as her father.

Poor child.

I ignored them until I couldn’t anymore. I ignored them until I had been sent to live with a distant cousin to be “taught the art of diplomacy” and was told to never return to the palace. With this distant cousin, I did learn the art of diplomacy as planned but as the craft of cutting words and cunning actions. I’d grown rather talented at navigating the complicated relations of neighboring nations, so much so that foreign diplomats asked for me by name. My ability to seamlessly blend together warring cultures and broken bonds earned me fame beyond that of my late father. Of course like any wicked stepparent, Anthony demanded I return to court so that my talents may be best utilized to serve the nation.

What a wretched lie to shorten my leash.

So began my rebellion.

The older woman who is also my ill informed advisor, Pepper, stomps down the dim hall towards the grand battle room. Her reddish blonde hair hardly moves behind her as she makes a determined path to the king despite the curls it’s been styled into. It’s rather shocking to see her hair down at all considering she is usually the one to lecture me on the propriety of society and how as a member of the royal family, I must uphold that. After she’s red in the face and moments away from exploding with fury, I like to remind her that I’m the forgotten eldest daughter. No one thinks of me as the face of this family or that of modern society either.

Despite its name, the battle room cannot be considered grand by any stretch of the imagination. Much like the rest of the palace, it is old and worn from economic fatigue. Where gold used to be brushed across every inch, there are now only flecks of lackluster yellow. Where towering windows used to bathe the halls in sunlight, there are now curtains drawn to prevent the Dragonborn from seeing movement within the palace. There is no finery to be seen and what was once a regal sight to behold is the stark reminder that we are at war with enemies who have every advantage.

With a deafening boom, ragged guards who’ve past their battle prime push the battle room doors and alert the king to our arrival. Pepper stomps right to where the king is sitting among pillars of maps and letters and whispers something in his ear. I don’t need to know whatever lies she’s telling him because his expression tells me enough. His ever present scowl deepens when he looks up and settles his disgusted gaze on me.

Dust swirls from my skirts as I shift on my feet and hit the wood paneled floors beneath me with a silent loudness as he stares at me.

A single question hangs in the air as he attempts to peer into my soul, “Were you aware that the Dragonic bastards were planning to create an alliance with the Elven counsel?”

Of course no warm welcome or small talk. Straight to the heart of the reason he even dragged me back here in the first place.

“Was I aware of this alliance?” I calmly restate, arching a brow at the man who sits high on his worthless throne and judges me. “Had I been, I would have informed you the instant I knew, your highness.”

In truth, I had heard snippets of clipped conversations about something brewing between the two nations but nothing raised concern within me. Rather nothing could’ve convinced me to speak to this man willingly.

The throne is a disgusting sight to behold with its mangled wood and tattered black cloth that flows in the still wind behind it. Black as night and deafening as the ever present silence that fills when you’re dying, this throne is what haunted me as a child and whispers promises of my demise now as an adult. The throne smiles when it senses my anger and the man who is occupying it becomes a conduit for its emotions as that familiar sinister glint flickers in his dark eyes.

Anthony throws a glance to the dust that has fallen around me with disappointment before speaking, “Do not play games with me, child.”

My eyes narrow at his choice of words.

“I assure you,” I start as I take a step forward as the heels of my boots make light taps on the wood, “I am not playing games with you. As I said before, if I had heard anything about this rumored alliance then you would have been made aware as well but alas I did not know.”

Anthony’s hollow chuckle causes my hair to stand on end but my face is schooled into perfect indifference. I allow my expression to portray only mild concern for the safety of our nation and that gets under his skin more than anything.

“If that is the position that you wish to maintain, then so be it.”

I roll my eyes at him and his flash with rage for a brief moment. The king settles back into his chair as he smirks at me, “you are my most sought after diplomat, are you not?”

Where is he going with this? I think to myself while I nod.

“Of course you are. You have your father’s legendary silver tongue. I should think that you would be the perfect person to forge an alliance on the nation’s behalf.``

My heart stills while my body becomes completely frigid. Suddenly the thick fabrics of my skirts and tight corset are useless against the chill that has begun to creep up my spine. The king holds back an all out grin and clenches his jaw. The action tightens and sharpens his already pronounced jaw, giving him the appearance akin to a statue. A crown of graying black waves adores his head but it does nothing to soften the severe look on his tanned face. “I have arranged for you to travel to the Dragonic capital and broker a peace treaty of sorts between us and them. We cannot allow this war to rage on any longer if they intend to ally themselves with the Elven counsel. This nation will not survive.”

“You expect me to do what?” I snarl with a curl of my lip which sends the entire room on high alert. Pepper gasps as she steps behind Anthony and the guards have arranged themselves in a defensive circle.

The king on his feet in seconds, brandishing a dull sword and pointing it at me albeit still a safe distance away. My gaze makes a slow path from the pathetic sword to his furious face. It is not the first time that he’s drawn a weapon on me and I doubt it will be the least.

“Your father is the reason this nation is all but decimated and it will be you who corrects that mistake. You will do as I demand of you and you will do it well if you wish for your mother to live.”

“You would not dare.” I hiss at him as I step closer. He steps back and says my name but I interrupt him with a roar of anger.

“You cannot expect me to willingly walk into a viper’s den, provoke the beast within, and survive, let alone make it obey me. You must know that this means almost certain death for me and I will fail. It is an impossible task, your highness. I will not do it.”

He hesitates, something that I haven’t seen him do ever, and I want to take pride in being the one to cause his hesitation but it’s short lived. His lip curls up into a nasty smirk as he sneers at me and circles his desk to stand mere inches from me.

“We might share blood but you are not my step daughter or family in any sense of the word. You are an abomination, a blight upon this earth. You are a dark stain in the fabric of our history and one that I will spend the remainder of my reign trying to scrub clean. You are a beastly girl who knows no discipline nor manners and nothing can forgive the torment that you've put this court through. Understand that is a blessing and that I should sentence you to death outright for simply being the offspring of the Failed King.”

Too caught up in the king’s self-serving monologue, I’d failed to hear the sound of thundering wings and the dreadful slap of scaled boots marching towards the battle room. I’d missed how the palace seemed to shrink around us in fear while its enemy stormed its halls with permission. I’d missed how only Anthony and I remained while the others had fled for their safety. I’d failed to notice that the air grew hazy and thick with smoke instead of tension as I had assumed.

Just as I catch the scent of burnt embers, I turn to glance over my shoulder and see the most important thing that I had failed to notice; a knight clad in iridescent black armor who is standing just behind me.

Towering above everyone and everything in the room, the knight seems to be almost double the size of any mortal man I know. As I spin to face it, the hulking frame shrouds me in complete darkness. My eyes make the nearly seven foot long ascent to where a face might be if it weren’t for the helmet that chills me to my core as I recognize it.

It’s the helmet of a Dragonborn knight.

They all wear the same sleek black helmet that resembles their beastly forms; six large horn-like spikes that stretch from the sides and top while the chin comes to a narrow point like a dragon’s nose. The helmet is otherwise plain with engravings or markings to decorate it aside from two sets of ruby glass eyes that stare down at me. It covers the knight’s entire face and head, leaving not even a sliver of skin or strand of hair to be seen. Save for the nature creases where the armor is cut to allow for movement, it lacks any decorations or embellishments much like the helmet. I’d once been told that it’s iridescent quality was due to the fact it was made from their dragon form’s scales instead of metal like mortal knights’ but I’ve never been close enough to one to ask. This is the first time I've been close to a Dragonborn at all, knight or not. My father had allowed a handful of their diplomats into the palace before his death but they’d used they’re mortal forms and only stayed for however long was absolutely necessary. I scarcely remember them aside from their silently menacing presence that would engulf rooms before they walked in and the scent of burnt embers that clung to their skin. Aside from those few past encounters, my knowledge comes from the journals I’ve snuck into the palace but nothing would’ve prepared me for this moment.

The knight simply stares down at me with those double ruby eyes before lifting its head to look at Anthony. With its gaze off of me, I look around it to see that there are only three more Dragonborn knights. Given how hostile our nations’ relationship has been, I would’ve expected to see a small army. Instead it seems that their leader did not think they would face much resistance or maybe these knights are more vicious than I’d been led to believe.

Anthony lets out a shuddered breath before he speaks, “You will leave with them in two days time.”

The knight glances back at me. The clawed gauntlets that cover its hands make a small noise when they come to rest on the hilt of a onyx greatsword. It stiles a cord of deep rooted terror within me that I can’t stop from setting ablaze to my nerves.

they’re not like us

they’re not like us

they’re not like us

It echoes throughout my mind while we stare at each other. The knight cocks its head and I can only assume it's studying me as I am it.

Anthony’s unsteady footsteps stop me from getting caught up entirely in the knight before me.

“She’ll never forgive you,” I whisper without looking away from the knight. I don’t need to look to know that my cowardly stepfather is retreating to safety and leaving me with these monstrous knights.

“She’ll be more thankful that her true daughters are alive.”

The other knights approach us, causing Anthony to let out a shaky chuckle in fear and stumble as he steps back.

One speaks, his gravelly voice rumbles the walls of this weak palace and shakes dust all around us, “The binding ceremony will take place tonight. Have you made the preparations as requested?”

I hear Anthony mumble something along the lines of ‘yes’ with a rambling of nervous explanations. The only words I can focus on are “binding ceremony”. They fall off my tongue in confusion and disbelief without me realizing.

“For your protection,” another more guttural voice answers. It’s quieter, one could not call it gentle but the low tone might be considered such to their kind. The knight before me waits for me to say something and when I don’t, he adds, “you will be safe with us. No harm shall befall you under our guard.”

A sarcastic chuckle wants to spill out but I keep my lips sealed. Safety is an illusion for any member of the royal family and it’s one that I saw through many years ago. I have no doubt that the knights will protect me as long as I prove useful but the moment an alliance is forged, that protection will end. Anthony will kill me the moment I step foot back into his nation and I have no allies of my own to rely on me.

The reality of this cruel world is more evident than ever before; I must find a way to secure my own protection and I will do that by whatever means necessary.

[seungkw1]

maestro — ljh // chapter 1

⛧ pairing: lee jihoon x afab!reader (reader uses she/her pronouns) ⛧ theme: fantasy, suggestive (18+ smut in future chapters) ⛧ chapter wc: 2.7k ⛧ warnings: minor knife violence ⛧ a/n: when i tell u that lee jihoon wrecked me sooooo bad this comeback !!!! the maestro mv was fully giving villain!woozi and my brain took that and absolutely ran with it. also, this is my first chapter fic!! much more to come, stay tuned <3

Your knowledge of the enemy is minimal, but what is known for certain is this: the Maestro is a dark and powerful sorcerer that is not to be trifled with - and you’ve just walked right into his trap.

You fucked up.

Your task was simple enough: sneak into the palace, steal the ring, and get the hell out. You’ve done countless jobs like this over the years - you're a professional for fuck’s sake. Sure, this gig was a bit more high-profile than usual, but nothing you couldn't handle. 

Yet somehow, they caught you. 

You rack your brain for a clue - something, anything, to indicate what went wrong. But you come up blank. Everything had gone according to plan (up until you found yourself surrounded by imperial guards with a knife at your throat, anyway), not a single detail overlooked. Something is off here, your instinct tells you. 

Here you are now, being forcefully escorted through the palace’s underlevels by a squad of imperial goons. The head goon hauls you through the dim hallways, his grip on your arm painfully tight, knife drawn and at the ready in case you were to try something foolish. A dark mask covers his lower face, so he's hard to get a read on, but you can tell he’s nothing more than a large, brainless oaf. You’ve single-handedly outwitted enemies like him in the past - but here, you are far too outnumbered. For the time being, you comply. 

You arrive at a large steel door, adorned only by a small barred window in its middle. With a rough shove the guard pushes you into the cell - you fall to the ground, your palms striking the cold stone floor. The hinges let out a horrid creaking sound before the door slams shut with a loud CLANG. You hear the clunking of a heavy chain, then the click of a padlock. Footsteps fade away as the imperial squad retreats - then, silence. You are all alone, trapped, imprisoned in this musty cell, somewhere in the depths of the Maestro’s palace. 

You sit on the hard ground, alone with your thoughts. The more you think about it, the only explanation is that this was a setup. But the Agency’s entire job is to sift through lies and misinformation; if this was a trap, there must be something larger at play - something elaborate, sinister. 

Unfortunately for you, you have nothing but time to try and piece together this puzzle. You lean your head against the stone wall, trying to figure out how the fuck you're gonna get yourself out of this mess. 

The absence of natural light leaves you with no way of telling time. The silence grows eerie. Your mind wanders, imagination soon running wild. You’ve heard of people who lose their minds within days of solitary confinement. Will that happen to me?, you can’t help but wonder. How long will I be here? Are they going to bring me food, or am I doomed to die of starvation? How did I even end up here? What are they planning to do with me? What if they forget about me? What if…

Your mind grows weary. You decide to lay down - no use in staying awake and overthinking. You rest your head on the gravelly floor - it’s uncomfortable, but your eyelids soon become heavy. You drift in and out of consciousness, strange visions and voices floating through your mind. Before long, you are asleep.

You’re running. You don’t know where to, but you are running through winding, endless corridors. Running from… something. You don’t know what. The sound of your racing heartbeat pounds in your ears, surpassed only by the heaving pants of your labored breathing. The neverending halls begin to expand around you - they grow larger and larger, disorienting your sense of perception. From behind, unsettling noises draw nearer and nearer: screeching echoes, thunderous crashes, wicked laughter. You run, but it’s not fast enough. The horrid sounds infiltrate your mind, reverberating through your skull so loudly you feel as if your head is about to explode. Suddenly, through blurred vision you see the hallway’s end; at it stands a cloaked figure, facing away from you. You can’t see anything else of the entity, but you sense the dark energy that surrounds it. Dread wells in the pit of your stomach, filling you with terror - but, for some reason, you are drawn to the malevolent being. Their presence is magnetic, alluring - frightening, but seductive. You press on - you don’t know why, but you must get to them. Your legs feel as if they’ve turned to lead - each footstep slowing you down further. You’re almost there, almost, almost… finally - the figure is within arm’s reach. In excruciating slow motion, you extend your hand toward them. Your fingertips graze the black cloak, its woven texture coarse against your skin. Your hand glides over the thick fabric - you close your grip around their shoulder, forcefully turning them around to face you. You lift your gaze to look at their face-

BANG.

You jolt awake in a panic. Disoriented, heart pounding, it takes you a moment to realize you’re still in the cold, dark prison cell. Faint light enters the room through the now-open doorway. Standing in it is a tall, thin man - you can barely make out his face, but his presence is unsettling. He peers down at you, his piercing eyes practically boring a hole into your head. 

“Come with me,” is all he says. 

You blink dully a few times, still not fully lucid. You try to process what all is happening, but your dream (nightmare?) weighs heavily at the forefront of your mind. The odious man quickly becomes irritated.

“GET UP!” he bellows at you.

You rise, stumbling to your feet. Two guards enter from behind him, swiftly seizing hold of your arms and yanking you out of the cell. They halt in front of the man. An unpleasant scowl seems permanently engraved on his face. He smirks at you.

“Well aren’t you pretty.”

You spit on the ground in front of his feet. The man glares at you with vitriol. He draws a short sword from the depths of his cloak, pointing it at your face. He traces the razor-sharp tip lightly across your cheek.

“Act like that again,” he sneers. With a quick flick of the wrist he delivers a small slash into your cheekbone. You barely flinch.

“And I’ll carve some very permanent scars into that pretty little face of yours.”

You stare at him, but say nothing. With a huff he turns, sauntering off into the hallway.

“Come along now. The Maestro wants to see you.”

—

The first thing you notice upon entering the chamber is the hundreds of candles set alight, illuminating the otherwise unlit space. The second is the hooded figure seated upon the throne at the room’s distant end, reclining arrogantly - watching you intensely. 

You hadn’t seen their face, but you know: it is the figure from your dream.

The guards stand you before the Maestro. You still can’t see their face. The thin man who summoned you steps forward, giving a small bow to his master.

“The thief, Your Majesty.”

The Maestro leans forward. Their face, previously shadowed, becomes illuminated in the candlelight: you see a man, much younger than anticipated - and strikingly beautiful. His eyes, adorned with dark makeup, peer up and down your body, studying you. He rises, nonchalantly descending the few steps before him; the clacking of his boots against the dark marble echoes through the otherwise silent chamber. He strolls toward you, maintaining eye contact, coming to a stop within mere inches of you. Slowly he removes his hood, revealing a head of long pale tresses. Up close, he is even more stunning. 

The man lifts his hand, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. He tilts your head, observing the cut on your cheek.

“I told you to bring me the prisoner unharmed,” he scolds his servant. His gaze doesn’t stray from your face.

The subordinate’s face drops. “Apologies, my liege,” he responds hesitantly. “I-”

“Leave.”

He says nothing else. The servant’s eyes darken with fear. “My liege-”

The man before you motions to the guards. “Take him away.”

The guards seize the man, dragging him from the chamber in silence. The door closes with a heavy thud. You are now alone with the enemy. 

Your existing knowledge of the mysterious individual known as the Maestro is minimal - you have a fairly high level of clearance within the Agency, but even there the details are sparse. Rumors abound, but what is known for certain is this: the Maestro is a dark and powerful sorcerer, and is not to be trifled with.

You watch the man before you intently as he turns on his heels, meandering casually across the room, hands behind his back. Undoubtedly, his presence is intimidating; but admittedly he does not seem to be nearly the loathsome monster you’ve been led to believe he is. Regardless, you will not be letting your guard down. 

“My apologies for the poor treatment you have received thus far,” the man starts as he resumes his seat upon the large, ornate chair. A bowl of deep-purple grapes sits on the table beside him; he reclines again, reaching for the supple fruits. He plucks a particularly round grape from its stem, drawing it to his lips - he places it upon his tongue, holding it there momentarily before biting down, its juicy flesh bursting within his mouth. He chews, his eyes fixated upon you. He swallows before continuing.

“I had to ensure you were who I thought you were, and not some irrelevant member of the Agency.”

You grimace, displeased to learn that your suspicions were correct. He did know about the mission, and presumably the Agency’s agenda too. If that’s the case, then how much else does he know…

You’re itching to ask him who exactly he thinks you are, but you hold your tongue. You know better than to engage with the enemy unless absolutely necessary.

“But now that I am certain, I assure you you will receive nothing but the finest accommodations.” 

You say nothing. He eats another grape. You’ve been staring for far too long when you realize his plush lips seem to have you in a trance; you quickly return to glaring at him.

A few moments of silence pass. The intense eye contact he sustains stirs up a sensation within you - not fear, not worry, but rather… intrigue. You know the man is dangerous, yet here you are - simply captivated by him. You silently curse yourself for allowing emotion to infiltrate your mind like this. You’re smarter than this. Get your shit together.

“Refusing to speak, I see. Very well then. But aren’t you curious?” He leans forward, taunting you. “You know I hold the answers you seek, y/n.”

Your stomach drops. He just called you by your real name. Members of the Agency are exclusively referred to by their code names - even amongst colleagues, true identities remain concealed. How does he…

Your face remains stoic, indifferent, but he smirks. He can read you like an open book, and he knows you know it. 

“Go on, question me. You must see there is no threat here - I am unarmed. You may speak freely.”

You know that’s an absolute crock of bullshit. A cunning sorcerer is never truly unarmed - god knows what he could conjure up in the blink of an eye. But, admittedly he does have a point. You very well may die here - might as well get some fucking answers first. 

“How did you know I was coming?” you ask coldly.

A sly grin appears on his face. “Ah, she speaks! Good girl.” You scowl at him; he continues. “It’s simple, really - it was me who allowed the Agency to ‘discover’ the location of the palace. I made sure their little reconnaissance efforts would lead them to send their most skilled operative to retrieve the ring.”

“You wanted the ring to be stolen.”

“No. I wanted the ring to be stolen by you.”

You pause at his unexpected words. What?

Every neuron in your brain is screaming at you to be silent, don’t play into his little games. But you open your mouth anyway.

“And why me?” 

“Oh, I’ve had my eyes on you for quite some time, darling.”

Your stomach jolts. He said it so nonchalantly, as if he was telling you the weather rather than admitting he’s been watching your every move for god knows how long.

You stare at him incredulously. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He simply shakes his head. “Patience - you will learn the whole story in due time. Guards!”

A new pair of imperials, much more polished and intelligent-looking than their brutish counterparts you’ve dealt with thus far, enter the room. 

“Please escort my guest to her bedchamber for the night. I must retire.”

The guards steer you toward the hallway. You follow without resistance. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” the man calls as you step through the doorway. You glimpse back: he is seated in the same position, watching you intensely. You catch a curious look in his eye, one you can’t quite read. He disappears as the heavy door shuts behind you.

—

As promised, your new accommodations are satisfactory - lavish, even. You’ve never seen a room with so many ornate embellishments, nor a bed with so many cushions and fine coverings. The washroom was equally fanciful, offering a large tub and luxurious-looking towels. Enticing, certainly, but at this point you are exhausted, and simply want to sleep anywhere that isn’t a cold stone floor. You lay upon the bed, not even bothering to retreat under the covers. Within seconds, you drift off to sleep.

You find yourself in the same hallway again - this time, not running, but merely standing behind the cloaked figure. You extend your hand, grabbing his shoulder and turning him round. You raise your eyes, meeting his gaze - but where his eyes should be, you only found blackness. You stare into the void of his sockets, hypnotized in fear, their darkness seeming to infiltrate your soul. He draws a dagger from his cloak, shoving you into the wall and placing it against your throat. You feel its pressure, but it does not break skin. He draws his face into yours, tenderly placing his lips upon your cheekbone - right atop your freshly-scarring cut. He kisses you - slowly, fervidly, his lips burning against your skin, but instead of pain you feel only pleasure. His free hand wraps around the small of your back, pulling your torso into his, holding you tightly against his blisteringly-hot form. The dagger remains perilously at your throat, a constant reminder of the power he holds over you. His lips parts from your cheek as he draws his head back, looking at you once again, the abysmal darkness of his stare penetrating through you. Slowly, he leans in, his lips converging on yours. Your mouth reaches for his, wanting for his kiss, yearning for his taste- 

Your eyes open. There are no windows in your room, but you get the sense that it is morning, midday perhaps. Dazed, you try to wake yourself up, but your mind keeps drifting back to your dream - to the man who has somehow infiltrated your subconscious. You raise your hand to your face, running your fingertips over your wound, but…

Quickly, you sit up, tossing your feet to the floor and heading toward the washroom. You approach the mirror, peering your face in close to the glass. Where there should have been a fresh scar: nothing. Not a mark on your skin. 

You frown. You don’t know what this means, but you suspect nothing good will come of it. 

A knock comes from the door. You hear the turn of the lock, followed by the creaking of the door swinging open. A young female servant enters, carrying a bundle of fabrics. A second follows, placing a tea set on the small table.

“You are expected at supper today,” the first woman informs you curtly. She places the fabrics upon your bed. “Wash up and dress in fresh clothes.” The two leave swiftly without another word.

You let out a sigh of annoyance. So this is how it’s going to be then. Fine - I’ll play along with his little games. You glance back at the mirror. A tired face looks back at you, grimacing.

Not like I have much of a choice anyway.

⛧ chapter 2: coming soon ⛧

[hyperactively-me]

Hear me out for King! Ghost…the kingdom is under attack and (Y/N) is trying to find Simon through the chaos. She finds him in the castle garden, on the ground with the enemy standing over him with their sword raised. The next thing (Y/N) sees is her driving her sword into the enemy’s back, killing them. When she realizes Simon is okay, it dawns on her that she has killed a person…I’ll leave it up to you finish this prompt.

Btw your king! Ghost fic has had me on a chokehold it is SO good

thank you for the compliment :) i'm not fully satisfied with this, so i hope y'all like it lol

(noncanon)

king!ghost x reader -- like you've seen a ghost warnings: physical violence, descriptions of death, injuries/blood, heavy angst; this is NOT canon

How did it end up like this?

How were Kastron's forces overpowered, leading to the castle getting infiltrated and overran by enemy forces?

The first signs of trouble came when the castle guards, stationed at key points, were ambushed from within. Chaos erupted as the enemy struck swiftly and decisively, disabling communication and creating confusion amongst the guards and knights within the palace. Betrayed from within, the castle fell into disarray, and panic spread like a wildfire.

Simon shoves a sword in your hand and forces you into a closet, your fingers trembling around the hilt as Simon's urgent eyes bore into yours. "Remember what you've learned," he says, motioning to the sword in your hand. "And, for the love of God, do not move from this spot."

He presses a fleeting kiss to your lips, then shoots you a final lingering gaze before he slips his skull balaclava over his face.

As the closet door closes behind you, the muffled sounds of chaos outside become amplified in the suffocating darkness. The minutes crawl by like hours as you strain to hear any sign of Simon's return or the advancing enemy forces. The closet offers a stifling refuge, and each passing second intensifies the pounding of your heart. The distant echoes of the struggle outside seem to become more muffled.

A sudden hush falls over the room, and you feel a shiver crawl down your spine. The eerie silence is shattered by the creaking of the closet door as you cautiously open it, the cool air of the corridor rushing in. You twist your sword in your grip, angling it in a way that would let you strike anyone who came across you. You emerge from the closet into a scene of devastation—broken armor scattered across the stone floor, the faint scent of blood lingering in the air.

With trepidation, you move through the corridors, heart racing in your chest. There was no one to be found, not even a single knight.

As you round a corner, you stumble upon a grisly scene—the lifeless bodies of Kastron's guards and enemy fighters, the remnants of a fierce battle. Bile rises in your throat, panic gripping your chest, and you quicken your pace, desperate to find Simon. You don't dare call out for anyone in fear that the enemy will attack you.

Dizziness washes over you as you run down the corridor, stumbling upon the double doors that lead to the gardens. Outside the doors, you can hear yelling and the clashing of swords.

Simon wouldn't want you out here, you know it, but how could you stand by whilst Kastron is being invaded? The need to protect your home was overwhelming, so you stood as straight as you could before stepping outside. You shake your head, steadying your breathing as you push open the doors. The clash of steel and anguished cries intensify as you step outside, your grip on the sword tightening. The scent of crushed flowers and damp earth fills the air as you push open the doors, incongruous to the bloodshed within the castle walls.

No one seems to notice you, too caught up in their personal battles and one-on-one combat.

Your eyes dart between the people fighting, searching desperately for any sign of Simon.

In the midst of the tumult, you spot him, a lone figure fending off multiple adversaries. His movements are swift and purposeful, each strike of his sword fatal.

Until now, you've never seen Simon engaged in battle. Of course, you had heard tales of his skills and prowess before you even got married, but witnessing him in action sends chills down your spine. The stories did not do justice to the raw power and grace with which he moved through the battlefield.

You don't know whether you want to beg him to stop or stay back and observe. His skull balaclava looks even more menacing and deadly than ever.

Simon's blade is deadly, each swing and parry precise, calculated, and unforgiving. Each strike finds its mark, taking down each assailant efficiently, knocking them down one by one. Once he finishes off the hoard of people, he takes a shuddered breath, standing up tall as he surveys his surroundings.

Unbeknownst to him, one person had snuck up behind him, kicking Simon down with a loud thump.

The world seems to freeze for a moment as Simon crumples to the ground, caught off guard by the unexpected attack.

"No," you whisper to yourself, eyes going wide at the person pushing your husband to the ground.

Your heart skips a beat, and instinct propels you forward. The enemy, emboldened by their surprise attack, raises their sword for a final, fatal strike.

Time slows as you charge towards them, the sword in your hand cutting through the air. The enemy, unaware of your presence until now, turns too late to defend themself from your onslaught. Your strike stabs straight through their back, a fatal blow.

The enemy gasps, dropping their sword before they could drive it into Simon's chest. They crumble to the ground, lifeless.

Your action hits you like a tsunami, and you stumble backwards, breathless. The world blurs around you as guilt and horror consumes your senses. He looks up, his eyes registering surprise and relief as he sees you unharmed.

Simon's voice pierces through the chaos as he rasps your name once, twice. You still don't fully register that he's calling for you, saying your name.

The ground beneath your feet feels unsteady, and you gasp for air, caught in the grip of a suffocating terror. You sink to your knees, the reality of what you did crashing over you. Your sword slips from your fingers, clattering on the ground. Your attention finally snaps back to Simon, who is still on the ground, momentarily incapacitated. He's struggling to rise, but determination glints in his eyes.

"Simon," you manage to croak, the taste of bile in your throat. You crawl towards him, desperate to reach him and make sure he's okay.

"I told you to stay in the closet," he manages to say.

But you can't comprehend his words. Panic tightens its grip around your chest, and your vision blurs with tears.

"I had to protect you," you whisper, the words barely audible over the din of the ongoing conflict. But the justification feels hollow, and a heavy weight settles in the pits of your chest.

You reach Simon, your trembling hands desperately searching for any sign of injury. His skin under his armor is battered and bruised, and thin trail of blood escapes from a tiny cut on his forearm, but other than that he's fine. The sight of the trickle of blood sends a surge of naseua through you, and you clutch his arm, as much for your own support as for his.

"Simon, I- I..." you stammer, unable to form words. Your eyes dart from his forehead to the attacker laying lifeless on the grass next to you two. Simon's gaze follows yours, and there's a silent understanding in his eyes.

"We need to move," Simon urges, his voice penetrating the disorienting fog in your mind. He starts to stand up, yanking your arm along with him.

You still don't move, too caught up in the way blood seeps into the earth.

"We have to go," Simon insists, his grip on your arm firm. The touch feels distant and disconnected. The urgency in his eyes is undeniable, and you force yourself to nod, pushing back the emotions that threaten to engulf you.

Simon's grip tightens as he pulls you up from the ground, dragging you by your arm harshly. You glance once more at the fallen enemy, anxiety gripping at your heart.

Together, you and Simon stagger away from the battleground unnoticed, moving through the castle's corridors. Simon's pace is brisk, purposeful, but the tension in his movements is palpable. He's still on high alert, ready to defend himself and you from any potential threats.

As you reach his study, Simon locks the door behind him and releases his grip on your arm. He moves to the bookshelf against the far wall and shoves it aside, grunting as he moves it. Behind the wall is a stone door, heavily fortified. With another aggressive movement, he's able to shove the door open, throwing his shoulder against it.

The hidden door reveals a dimly lit room. Simon motions for you to follow him, and you do so without a word. The air in the room is cool, carrying the scent of damp stone.

Simon leads the way with a determined stride, his jaw set. He pulls his balaclava off, revealing the frustration and concern on his face.

Simon finally turns to you, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he speaks.

"What were you thinking?" Simon's voice is low, his words weighted with disappointment. "I told you to stay in the closet, to keep yourself hidden."

Your eyes dart down, guilt and fear rendering you speechless. The images of the lifeless enemy you just struck down replays in your mind, each moment tormenting your senses. You feel trapped, and panic continues to tighten its grip on your chest.

"I... I couldn't just stay there. I had to do something," you stammer, your voice barely audible, tears now freely flowing down your cheeks.

Simon's gaze doesn't waver, his expression stern. Still, he reaches out to cup your face, swiping away some of your tears with his thumb. "You were meant to stay hidden, not to charge into the middle of the fuckin' battlefield. You put yourself at risk, and you put me at risk. I can't protect you if you don't follow orders."

Numbly, you manage to nod, your eyes finally meeting Simon's.

Guilt gnaws at you, a heavy lump in your throat. The reality of your impulsive actions sinks in, and the consequences unfold in Simon's disapproving eyes. You tremble, unable to shake the vivid images from your mind; the smell of the blood, the way it felt when your sword pierced through the person.

You start to breathe rapidly, the small room closing in on you. Everything feels too big, too much—

Simon's stern expression softens, replaced by genuine concern as he sees the panic taking hold of you. He leads you to a dingy chair in the corner of the room and he crouches in front of you, his hands gently holding yours.

"Easy now, love," Simon murmurs, his voice calm as he breaks through the fog of your panic. "Focus on your breathing. In and out. Slowly."

The panic continues to claw at your throat, choking on your tears and inability to get enough air to your lungs. You follow his lead, trying to match your breaths with his. The rhythmic inhales and exhales provide an anchor, helping to alleviate the panic that threatens to consume you. Slowly, you try to regain control over your breathing, clinging to the physical sensation.

"Thas' it," Simon encourages, his voice low. "In and out. We're safe."

Gradually, the tightness in your chest begins to ease, and the room seems a little less suffocating.

"I know it's a lot to comprehend right now—"

"I killed someone," you whisper, voice shaky and raw, tears welling up in your eyes once more. Simon doesn't move an inch.

His gaze doesn't waver, and he maintains a steady grip on your hands. "I know," he says softly, his voice a comforting anchor in the chaos. "It was self-defense, dove."

"I was trying to protect you," you mutter, your eyes dropping to the ground.

A sigh escapes Simon, and he runs a hand through his disheveled hair. "You had to protect yourself and, by extension, me. It's a brutal reality, but it's the world we find ourselves in right now."

You look up at him, searching for any sign of anger or blame in his eyes, but all you find is understanding. He pulls you into a reassuring embrace, his arms enveloping you as if to shield you from the harshness of the outside world.

"You did what you had to do to protect me," Simon murmurs against your hair. "But, charging into battle like that... it was reckless. I can't lose you."

You swallow thickly, squeezing his hand. Simon's thumb brushes against your knuckles, a gesture of both comfort and concern.

"I trust you, I do. But I need you to trust me," Simon continues.

He pulls away slightly, holding your face gently between his hands. His eyes search yours for assurance, a plea for understanding. "We're in this together, and I need you safe. Promise me, even if things get hard, you'll follow the plan and trust that I'll come for you."

You nod, your voice barely a whisper, "I promise."

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[monstersandgirls-webtoons]

First I want to say I love your work so much. second is it possible for you to tell us a little more about your version of sins because you got me so interested

Thank you! And sure I can give you a brief run down:

Lucifer - Ruler of Pride, the creator of demons, goetias and the other deadly sins. Loved and feared by his people. Despite his fearsome appearance, he's described as having a "warm blanket" personality. You never know how to feel about him.

Satan - Ruler of Wrath, creator of hellhounds and mammal-based demons. Feared by his people. Loves to parade around the corpses of his enemies and has a love for dinosaurs. Also he's Luvart's daddy.

Asmodeus - Ruler of Lust, creator of succubi, incubi and various "lust-based" demons. Very cold and stiff in personality, but her rough exterior can falter when she/he's around Lilith. She's considered the cruelest Prince of Hell, as she created the prisons where various demons are tortured as punishment.

Beelzebub - Ruler of Gluttony, creator of bug demons. She's arguably the most powerful prince in hell, second to Lucifer, as she controls many other sectors in Hell (there was a civil war, dw about it). Unlike her "brothers", she is very small in size and is described as "unremarkable". She is also the only demon Prince who encourages "love" and is described as very motherly.

Mammon - Ruler of Greed, creator of reptile demons, dragons, and digital demons (aka, robots and androids). Not much is known about him. He's very close with Beelzebub.

Leviathan - Ruler of Envy, creator of fish demons, amphibian demons and various weather based demons. He is the first demon Lucifer ever created and treasures him greatly, always obeying his every want and demand. Unlike his "brothers" who try to have a sense of regality to them, Leviathan is childish, brash and easy to offend. He's also the strongest out of all of them, even surpassing Lucifer.

Belphegor - Ruler of Sloth, creator of plant demons, imps and fairies. He despises Lucifer and spend most of his time in his palace mourning. Due to being uninvolved in managing in his Kingdom, it lead to another civil war, where Beelzebub ended up taking complete ownership.

Side note: Demons don't typically call certain rings Lust/Wrath/etc. they're referred to as "Beelzebub's Kingdom" or "Satan's Kingdom".

Also there are other types of demons that I didn't list off, like slime, bicorns, etc. Just wanted to list off the main ones

[yarrayora]

because of the lack of female protagonists in... pretty much every genre, really, people tend to hype up a lot of series as "better than the average [insert genre]" just because it has a female protagonist rather than male

(personally i think girls deserve formulaic schlock, too, like how bofuri is basically the average MMOVR with a black haired plain looking boy repeatedly stumbling upon cheat powers except the protagonist is a girl)

but when i look for new titles saying "i want interesting worldbuilding where we get to see how this fantasy world works as a society and the court intrigue goes beyond high school level mean girl bullying" and people respond with titles like "i'm in love with the villainess" it's like asking for a grilled steak and getting handed a hamburger

burger's good, but not what i'm looking for

so here's a list of my manga/webtoon recommendations for stories of political intrigue in fantasy worlds with a female protagonist (not all of them are isekai or regression or reincarnation, most are straight up just fantasy world):

The Holy Grail of Eris

The story of a kingdom after the villainess is executed for attempting to poison the heroine beloved by the crown prince. Our protagonist is Constance Grail who finds herself being haunted by the ghost of the villainess Scarlet Castiel who saved her from suffering the humiliation of having her engagement broken because of a false accusation.

Scarlet claims that she has been framed, and together the duo is set to find out the truth regarding her death sentence.

Saying more than this would ruin the plot twists, but read this if you're interested in a story where it makes sense for a ducal daughter to be sacrificed in exchange for a lady of a lower class as the nation's queen.

Itsuwari no Freya (localized as Prince Freya)

A small kingdom struggles to defend itself against a powerful warmongering kingdom with the leadership of their cunning prince. Except, the prince has died. To prevent the flame of hope from being extinguished, the prince's inner circle employs the aid of Freya, a village maiden with the same face as the late prince.

There is no time to prepare her to learn the ropes of politics. Now Freya must plunge immediately into international turmoil and figure out a way to secure support from other nations with the help of the prince's knights and, of course, her own charisma and intelligence.

Ebony (localized as Lady Evony)

Sensational news sweeps the nation: the Grand Duke has put a criminal under his protection. Evony was accused of her father's murder and ended up suffering all kinds of abuse in the hands of the prison wardens who despise her.

Yet her time at the women's prison was also the only time she was able to gain education in a misogynistic nation who still bars women from learning while other countries have a headmistress for their famous college and traveling tradeswomen.

As she heals from the wounds inflicted both on her body and her heart, she realizes she wants to become someone who can stand equal to the Grand Duke and not just a fragile flower to be protected in his garden.

Great if you're looking for slow burn romance where the main couple are equals instead of the usual "obsessive yandere male lead who holds to power/lovely lady who struggles to be useful" or "stupid but doting male lead who needs his very smart lady to show him the way"

Also great if you're looking for a korean webtoon where all their problems CANNOT be solved by the protagonists being wealthy capitalists

The Falcon Princess

While other webtoons tend to focus on noblewomen's tea parties as a source of conflict, The Falcon Princess focuses on a kingdom in the middle of being invaded.

The protagonist is a princess on the run when the imperial palace ends up ransacked by the enemy nation. She wakes up as a falcon and ends up finding herself as her kingdom's commander's messenger bird.

Despite the language barrier, the princess helps the commander figure out the enemy's location, strategy, and various ways to defeat them and finds herself becoming a symbol of hope who leads the army into reclaiming her nation.

JK Haru is a Sex Worker in Another World

Last but not least but is definitely the most controversial pick. Haru is a girl who gets reincarnated in another world after she got hit by a truck alongside her otaku classmate.

While said otaku is living his best life as his power fantasy becomes a reality, Haru refuses to be his girl in exchange for a comfortable life, even though the only job she could have in a misogynistic world where women can't even eat at a restaurant without a chaperone is at a brothel.

And yet, she doesn't hate it. Although the customers can be rough, she befriends the other prostitutes at the brothel and figures out how to enjoy her job. It's a story that depicts sex workers with respect, acknowledging their struggles without turning it into misery porn.

It also asks an important question regarding the trope of "overpowered isekaid protagonist changes the world for the better": CAN they actually change the world just because they have cheat powers? After all, societal issue isn't something you can solve using brute force and money alone

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

RUNAWAY FROM ME - CHAPTER 2

Pairing - Tommy Shelby x oc

Summary - Deirdre ran from her life of misery for her own safety. However, she managed to run back into the arms of an angel she once knew, now known as The Peaky Blinder Devil. In which he has no intentions of letting her run away from him again.

Warnings - Dark content, non con, dub con, explicit themes, lovers to enemies to lovers, slow burn kinda, Tommy needs a hug.

Word count - 4.7k

The Garrison, Small Heath - Evening, January 20th 1915

Drunk, filthy, vain. That was Deirdre’s code for her carefully picked victims of her acts of deviance. Never the good, poor and innocent. Not that there were many of those around here in a town like this. 

Of all places to end up, she found her tired feet in the dust, muck and filth grounds of Small Heath. In between the brick walls of the city of fire, brimstone and smoke. A town in which all men had a life long sentence of being trapped in the working class. No thoughts and dreams in their futures, only merely hoping to make it to the next day. 

Deirdre was far from home. The furthest she had ever made it. It was a shock, wandering this far after many failed attempts. But her future entity being locked to a filthy man over twice her age pushed her to run. The window was quickly closing, Deirdre had to flee before she was trapped to another savage. 

Her home was a palace in comparison to here. The life that many would dream of replacing her absence in. But regardless of it all, she preferred Small Heath over being trapped between rough hands in Dublin. 

None of her father’s men would ever suspect her to end up in a place like this, she was free. Living day to day, nights slept in a ramshackled home felt far more secure than sleeping in a comfortable bed, underneath the roof of the man that abused her daily. 

It was another typical day of work. Here she was, sitting by the bar, accompanied by a drunken bastard whose hands got too touchy too quickly. Just a few more minutes, she’d let him finish his drink and then slide her small hands into the pockets. Always hoping for more than she’d actually grab. 

Deirdre did this a lot, she didn’t have any options for work. She had no papers, no identity, no proof of her existence. All she had was the two dresses she took with her and the pretty face that many desired. She’d pop into a random pub, she had to keep her appearances cautious. It was questioning how she’d been surviving off this for weeks now. But many men would give her a shilling just to smile at them. These were times of mayhem and anguish.

Most women would sell their bodies, a man’s shilling was far more valuable than their reputation in a town like this. There was no blame in it, but Deirdre refused to drop her innocence for anyone. Because in the back of her head, she heard her father’s gruesome threats if she ever committed such an act. It was traumatic, replaying those menacing memories. 

Tonight was a bad choice. Deirdre felt her heart thud against her chest as the older man’s hands roughly gripped onto her slim waist. It was as if he knew her ploy. Deirdre tried not to pull attention, her hands pushed against his, but it made no difference. 

“Sweetheart, going shy on me now aye?” the man grinned, a front tooth missing, the rest yellow. Before she could say a word, a man approached them.  

“Oi” a strong, intimidating voice boomed as his hand clamped over the man’s shoulder, it bent under his hold. The man turned his back to look at the younger man. He snarled and shoved his hold off of him. 

Deirdre had seen him, only one or twice here, in Small Heath. He had a shorter height than most, a small frame underneath his thick coat, but his eyes were captivating. His soft pale skin outlined his jawline. A slight undercut of his brunette hair. For a working man, he was beautiful. Deirdre had forced herself away from watching him in the swift glance. 

“Leave the poor girl alone, would ya?” The stranger threatened in an intimidatingly kind manner. His Birmingham accent was thick yet as smooth as velvet. 

“Who the fuck are you to-” the man paused, his blurred vision clearing as he stared into his blue orbs. The drunk’s sight flicked over to the table in the corner, the men in peaked caps watched him. With a snort, the man finished his drink and stormed out of the pub. 

Deirdre gulped to herself as she kept her sight low. She heard whispers of the men in the peaked caps. They swarmed at the opportunity of the war to build society as their own. Without a word, she slipped off of the barstool and went to turn her heel towards the door. 

“No” the blue eyed man opposed, his arm shooting out to gently grab ahold of her forearm. “Stay for a drink, my offer” he grinned softly as he turned his attention back to the barman. Deirdre was lost for words, simply nodded in agreement as he ordered two glasses of whisky. 

“I’ve seen you around here a couple of times. Always by yourself, your hands tend to slip into men’s dirty pockets and you’re gone” he chuckled as he slid a glass towards her. 

Deirdre laughed, she had been caught out. Finally, she’d be paying the price for her crimes. But he merely laughed lightly at her acts and took a sip of his drink. 

“What’s your name?” He asked as he sat on the bar stool and gestured for her to do the same. 

“Deirdre” she answered without thinking, she’d never told anyone her name out of caution. The paranoia was setting like paint on her skin. 

“Deirdre… The name of the broken-hearted, sorrowful and the wanderers” he nodded to himself, those piercing blue eyes of his lingered over her features as she slowly climbed onto the seat. 

She couldn’t help but to gently laugh at the accuracy. But he didn’t know that, he didn't know anything about her. No one around here did. 

“How old are ya?” He continued his questions and consumption of his drink. 

“Eighteen years old, sir” she nodded, her fingers traced the rim of the glass. 

“Thomas, but everyone calls me Tommy” he corrected with a gentle smile. A soft smile grew on her lips as she finally took a sip. “Where are you from?”

“Galway” she lied, a short nod. Her eyes struggled to remain still. 

“Is it green over there?” He hummed. 

“Very” she replied shortly. 

Tommy bobbed his head to her. “Come, sit with me mates. It’ll be more comfortable there” he suggested, or ordered. Deirdre couldn’t exactly tell.

But she knew that her stay was over welcomed, and all she wanted to do was disappear again. She knows the lifestyle of gangsters, traumatized by the brutal actions that can snap out of nowhere. Deirdre would be damned if she allowed herself into that again, even for a night. 

“It’s alright, I was thinking of leaving anyway. Thank you for the drink” she opposed, pushing the half full glass away from her. 

“No, no. We will have another after this one” he said in a determined and decided tone as he pushed the glass back towards her.

“I must reject your kind offer” she sighed softly. 

“I ain’t going to do anything to ya if that’s what you believe. I swear on my family’s name” Tommy swore, holding his hand over his heart. 

They did, have another after another. She sat squished between Tommy and another, his older brother Arthur. The table was surrounded by peaked caps, the room echoing the cheers and disputes between the men. Tommy watched her as she sipped on her liquor. None of the others dared to say more than a couple of words to her. 

His arm wrapped around her waist, her guard was down and she relaxed into his hold surprisingly. Deirdre had never drunk, her father would allow a modest woman to act in such a way in his house. The effects came onto her quickly for she had hardly eaten in days. Her head swayed lightly, cheeks reddened and an innocent smile on her lips. With one last swig, Tommy finished his drink and it clinked on the wooden top.  

“So, are you going to tell me? What brought you deep in the grime streets of Small Heath?” He questioned through a whisper, his mouth pressed against her ear. 

Deirdre chuckled lightly, this question was bound to come up. “Change of scenery” she answered calmly. 

“A runaway huh?” Tommy laughed, his fingers brushing over hers. “I know one when I see one” he stated.

It felt nice, a bit too nice for her. It was unfamiliar and it made her anxious, waiting for the punch line or the trap to be triggered. She never knew physical touch could feel so lovely, so calming, so affectionate. 

“Yeah you caught me” she breathed out, almost ready to wave the flag of surrender, prepared for her father to walk in at any moment.

He could see the trouble in her eyes, the despair, how badly she wanted to forget her past. There was no denying the connection he felt to that, how badly he felt the urge to help her overlook those thoughts. 

“Well, no one will find you here. Nobody suspects Small Heath as a new beginning. It’s a cursed city where men are punished with working their lives away. But I intend to change that for my family, I will end our line of despair. Put our family name in the good” Tommy promised, his eyes glancing over at his brothers in the room. 

Deirdre smiled at him, she admired his ambition. Many working men were cold and broken. But him, it seemed that his eyes were wide open to his calling, to charge at what was rightfully his. Or, maybe he was just so desperate to chase after a kingdom to free his mind of anguish. 

“Well, I’ll walk you home” Tommy said as they slowly walked out of The Garrison. 

A wave of embarrassment of him seeing the dump she confined herself in crashed over her. It didn’t matter how drunk she was, what would he think of her? Even worse, what could he do? 

“No Tommy, it’s alright” she protested, her hands raised in fear. 

His expression was stern as he slowly shook his head to her. Many men were still wandering the dark, minacious streets of Small Heath. Best believe Tommy would not allow her to walk those dangerous grounds. 

“Nonsense, a woman needs to be cautious. Especially in these streets” he objected, his tone dripping of order. 

“Please, I must-” she sighed, lowering her head in defeat and embarrassment. 

“Do you have a place to call home?” He cocked an eyebrow to her. 

“Not really” she mumbled. 

“How long do you intend to stay in Small Heath for? Better yet, how long have you been here for?” Tommy crossed his arms over his chest, leaning towards her. 

Deirdre scratched the back of her head uneasily. 

“I, I don’t know” she answered. Tommy slid off his coat and laid it over her shoulders. 

“Alright, come with me” he encouraged, gently holding onto her hand. 

They walked silently, her body leaning towards him whenever she saw people walking nearby. But they all remained away from him, the infamous man in the peaked cap.

They stopped in front of a door, the porchlight off. Tommy opened the door slowly and looked down to her. 

“Tommy?” Deirdre asked timidly. 

“Come in” he said quietly. 

With her silent protest failing, he led her into the dark building, and they went straight upstairs. The door creaked open and Deirdre stared at the unmade single bed illuminated in the moonlight. 

“This is my room” he made known. 

There was no shame in the size or state of his room in his tone. Tommy Shelby was still a working man after all, he had to make do with what he had. 

All was heard as a small exhale from her lips. Slowly, she looked up to him with doe eyes. 

“Uh, Tommy I don’t know” she spoke, her nerves stabbing at her skin. 

“Shh, it’s okay. I’m merely offering you somewhere more comfortable to sleep. I’ll sleep on the floor, or I can sleep in the kitchen if that makes you more comfortable” he offered as he slid the coat off of her shoulders. 

“No have your bed, I can’t accept your generosity” she shook her head. 

Tommy chuckled at her demeanor and leant closer to her. Gently, he took her hands into his as he tilted his head towards her. 

“How about we share the bed?” Tommy suggested. Through the dark, Tommy could still see her eyes widen and heard her lightly gasp. “You’re so shy” he chuckled as he moved slightly closer to her and brushed her hair to the side. “I don’t expect to have sex with you tonight, if that makes you feel better” he assured her kindly. 

Of course that was the first thought that crossed Deidre’s mind. It passed through the moment he told her to stay for a drink. In the back of her mind, she felt her father hold a knife to her back for even thinking of such a thing. But he wasn’t here, Deirdre needed to keep on reminding herself of that. 

Deirdre stiffly nodded and Tommy slowly led her to the bed. They both laid stiffly on the bed. Complete silence, except for Deirdre’s heavy breathing and rapidly heartbeat. Tommy looked down at her and sighed. 

“Let’s get more comfortable, eh?” Tommy told her as he shifted his body to the side

They turned around on the small mattress, his arms wrapped around her timid body and held her close underneath the thin sheets. Quickly, her stiff frame softened against his hold, a feeling she had never felt before, or at least remembered. Their bodies molded as one as she finally drifted off into a comfortable sleep. 

Eden Club, Soho - Night, 23rd July 1924

“You’ve been in my dreams, my love. Have I been in yours?” Tommy tilted his head, gun still pointed to hers as she slowly stood up and leaned against the desk in defeat. 

The tension was as clear as day, they both listened to each other's breathing as she slowly batted her eyes to the familiar stranger. All Deirdre could do was laugh at her predicament. There were no cards she could lay down. All options exhausted for the time being. Unless, she could get her hands on that pistol. 

“How are you Tommy?” Deirdre inquired, raising an eyebrow to him, her body leaning back over the desk as her eyes looked him up and down slowly. He set the pistol back into his holster and took one last inhale before flicking the stick away. 

Time had certainly changed him, despite his beauty remaining the same. It was beginning to age like the finest bottle of whisky. The softness of his skin had roughened. Those perfect blue eyes have darkened whilst his jawline grew sharper. He was a lot more built now, an old part of Deirdre tortured her mind to wonder what he looked like underneath. 

“I’m spectacular now, such a lovely surprise for you to visit me at my club of all places” Tommy smiled wickedly as he shuffled closer towards her.

His hands planted on the desk around her hips as he looked down to her, his mouth ajar open. It wasn’t known by either of them if he was trying to intimidate her or seduce her at that moment. Deirdre batted her lashes once more and went doe eyed to him. 

“Did you miss me Tommy?” Deirdre asked softly, as her body drew closer to his. 

“A part of me hoped you were dead” he admitted without hesitation, his hands resting on her smooth hips now. 

“That’s sweet” Deirdre bobbed her head, her teeth biting on her inner lips. 

Tommy’s hand rubbing gently against her cheek. A wave of remembrance of her beauty crashed over him. After all of these years, all he had was his memory of her. Her maturity aged like fine wine, and Tommy was currently resisting the urge to taste her. He miscalculated his belief that his urges would be restrained by his anger. 

The only card that has deemed relevance was to seduce him, tempt him, fuck him. The old Deirdre would never demean her body like this. But the world against her had turned her desperate. Her legs spreaded as she slowly lifted her body onto the desk. His body molded to hers as he pressed his crotch against hers. There was a few inch distance between their lips, she could smell the whisky on his breath and he could smell the gin on hers. 

“So, are you going to fuck me with your eyes or your cock?” Deirdre cocked an eyebrow to him. 

“Trying to fucking seduce me” Tommy huffed as his hand slipped around her throat. Gently he tested how firmly he could squeeze her skin before she reacted.  

“Would you rather I scream for mercy?” Deirdre shot back, a cheeky grin plastered on her. 

A firm warning squeeze was fired by his hand, Tommy’s head tilted as he gently shrugged his shoulders to her. 

“It doesn’t matter, it’s all the same” he spoke slowly. 

“Which is?” She asked.  

“You won’t run away again, you’re staying with me” he spoke firmly, nodding his head at the plan which was building in his mind. Deirdre couldn’t help but to pout towards him and softly shake her head at that idea. 

Of course he was holding onto the past. Thomas Shelby was always holding onto it, even though he pretended he didn’t care about anything. He couldn’t help himself, these things kept him awake at night, consumed his dreams and tried to bring down his ambition. 

“That’s so boring Thomas, for the both of us” she sighed. 

“That’s marriage” he countered. Deirdre responded back swiftly, a bit too without thought. 

“Where’s your honor to your dead wife?” she spat, irritated with his arrogance. 

Deirdre choked out as his hand tightened roughly around her neck. His free hand held her back in place as she tried to thrash in his hold. Even though her fingers were trying to claw underneath his, they wouldn’t budge. 

“Have some fucking respect” he spat by her ear before abruptly letting go. “Should have been you anyways” he snarled as he stepped back and spun around.

Tommy cursed to himself as he felt his erection in his pants. Shaking his head firmly, he blinked away the idea of her and brushed his hand through his hair. When he turned back around to her, Deidre was staring at the ground. Tommy opened his mouth to speak when there was a heavy knock on the door.

The door swung open with Arthur on the other side. “Tommy! She’s not fucking-” Arthur paused as he stared blankly at Deirdre. “Ah! Deirdre!” Arthur exclaimed as he rushed over to her and hugged her tightly. 

A heavy exhale left Deidre’s lips as she embraced Arthur, her arms instinctively wrapped around him for security. Tommy frowned at the sight before him, especially with how Deidre’s eyes shut with ease. Quickly his blood began to boil again. 

“Arthur get out” Tommy ordered, his jaw clenched, his hands on his hips.  

“Oh Deirdre!” John boomed as he entered the room, her belongings in hand as he strided over to them. “Your purse Deirdre” John offered the bag to Deirdre but Tommy snatched it so Deirdre could even reach out for it. 

Quickly, Tommy’s hand scrambled through the small bag and he tutted to Deirdre at the small vial he discovered. “Still up to your old games…” Tommy commented as he slipped the vial back in. 

With a heavy breath, she hugged John tightly, he hummed against her as he patted her back to reassure her. She had forgotten how badly she missed them. It was shocking to see how they were still the same men from before the war. For once, she felt a brief sensation of relief to see the brothers that she adored dearly. 

A dramatic sigh left Tommy’s lips as he slammed her purse onto the desk. “Ah, no papers yet again. No identity for Miss Deirdre” Tommy mocked, his teeth gritted as he stepped closer to her. 

Deirdre looked up to him as he returned in between her thighs. Those cold paws of his rested on her waist as his eyes analyzed every inch of her body. 

“Get out, I’m still talking to my wife” Tommy demanded, his blue eyes shooting from brother to brother. Arthur muttered whilst John remained silent, a stern expression locked on as he lit a fresh cigarette. 

“Tommy, it’s roaring out there. How about we all just enjoy the night how we intended to. Then tomorrow, we can-”

“Get the car ready” Tommy cut Arthur off. 

John frowned and leant forward, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“The car?” John butted in, his light hanging from his lip. 

“Yes John, the car” Tommy spoke dumbfoundedly. “We are returning to Arrow House immediately” he disclosed as he tugged Deirdre to her feet. 

John moaned out dramatically as he shook his head at Tommy’s desires. 

“Oh Tommy, you can’t be serious!” John argued. “This is our last fookin night!” He hissed, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“I won’t repeat myself” Tommy spoke firmly as John huffed in annoyance. 

John stood closely to Tommy, his lips near his ears. 

“Fuck off… I won’t be involved with anymore family affairs tonight” John whispered before abruptly leaving the room. 

Arthur gulped as his eyes darted from Tommy to the open door. Whilst Tommy stood expressionless as his eyes slowly moved to Deirdre’s. Arthur began to stammer as he awkwardly stood before the pair. 

“Go make sure he doesn’t do anything reckless. I’ll see you both back tomorrow” Tommy finalized as he harshly tightened his hold onto Deirdre’s arm and pulled her towards the exit.

Deirdre latched out for her coat and purse quickly as Tommy strided into the hall. A worker stood there with Tommy’s coat and cap. A firm finger pointed to Deirdre in warning as he slid on his coat and peaked cap, his eyes not even shifted an inch off of her. She kept her head low as they exited through the back door into an isolated dark alley, his hand still tight on her bicep.

Her eyes shot to the light to her left and she gulped at the sight of countless bystanders continuing on with their night. Unknowingly, she slowed in her steps, causing Tommy to frown and look back to her. A snort came from Tommy as he shook his head and leant close to her ear.  

“Don’t be foolish, my love” he warned as he tugged her into the darkness. 

Tommy opened the passenger door to his Bently and pushed Deirdre in. As he slammed the door, he again raised his finger in warning before he hurried over to the other side. Another cigarette was lit as Tommy turned on the engine. 

“Will you let me grab my belongings?” Deirdre spoke quietly, her head pointed out the window. 

Tommy’s head snapped towards her. 

“What fucking valuables could you possibly have” he commented, his tone dripping with irritation. 

“Please Tommy” she pleaded, her eyes glistening in the moonlight. 

Tommy muttered, wagging his head to her. When his eyes snapped to hers, he exhaled at her doe eyes accompanied by her anxious hands fiddling together. 

“It better be on the way” he grunted to her. 

As he parked the car outside of the hotel, Tommy was quick to jump out before her. His hand held onto the handle firmly as he yanked the door open for her. Deirdre muttered her gratitude as she slipped out of the car. 

Likewise to a prisoner, Tommy escorted her up to her room. With a shaking hold, Deirdre slid the key into the lock and opened her room. When she tried to slip into the room alone, his foot wedged between the door and frame. 

“Can I not have a moment of privacy” she pressed, muttering curses to herself shortly after. 

Deirdre let go of the door and walked away from Tommy. The door creaked shut as Tommy continued to watch her like a hawk

“You will not run from me again Deirdre…” Tommy reminded her through a cold glare whilst slipping out a cigarette. 

“We’re on the third floor” Deirdre countered with scrunched eyebrows. 

“You have your ways” Tommy murmured as he brushed the end in between his lips before lighting it. 

Tommy’s eyes lingered over the cheap room, his hands firmly on his hips as Deirdre quickly tried to pack up her belongings. Right as she was going to zip up the bag, Tommy nudged her out of the way and pulled it wide open. 

“Oh Thomas… You’re so immature” Deirdre bickered, her arms crossed over her chest as she huffed to him. 

The only response she got was a huff as his hands rambled through her clothing. Until he stopped when he felt something firm. Tommy frowned as he pulled it out, hidden in one of her dresses. Slowly, he lifted up a small piece of silver to her. To his surprise, her back was turned towards him. 

“Do you have a child Deirdre?” Tommy cocked an eyebrow to her as he dangled the shining rattle at her. The sound from the toy teased her, he knew it. 

“No” she swallowed, her throat instantly feeling like it was closing in on her. 

“Fucking liar” Tommy snarled as he dropped it back into the bag. 

“I don’t” Deirdre snapped back as her body spun back to him. 

“Sure” Tommy smirked. 

He watched the fire light inside of her as she walked up to him. It was amusing to him, seeing how she walked on a tightrope of emotions. 

“I don’t Thomas” she spoke firmly, her tone sending a warning to him. 

“Alright…” Tommy spoke quietly as he watched her body unknowingly begin to shake. The rattle fell into the bag as Tommy zipped it up. 

Without another word, Tommy led her back to the car. As if they were on a tight schedule, Tommy sped off down the quiet roads. When they were far from the city, the only sources of light being the headlights and moon, Deirdre looked over to him. 

“Where are you taking me Thomas?” She asked. 

It was ignored by him as his hands tightened on the wheel. 

Deirdre rolled her eyes and rested her head against the window. Slowly she fell into an uneasy sleep. 

She dreamt of her husband. Using his belt on her yet again. At this point, Deirdre laid hopelessly on the tiled flooring as he spat out every cruel word from the book to her. She was crying out, begging for mercy, her hands clenched to her stomach.

When she looked down, she screamed at the sight of blood pooled at her legs. Her body trembled, her temperature low as her eyes darted around for her husband. But he was gone. As she looked up, she saw Tommy, watching her with an emotionless face. 

Deirdre called out his name, begged him to help her. But her words were falling silent, her throat tight as she reached out for him. When she tried to crawl to him, her body ached and she fell back onto the tiling. Keeping her hand out in one last attempt of mercy, Tommy took a step back, gradually being consumed by darkness. 

“Deirdre” Tommy whispered. 

Faintly, the back of his hand brushed over her cold cheek. Deirdre mumbled out, but remained asleep against the side of the door. 

“Deirdre, my love… Wake up” Tommy urged, speaking more forcefully now. His hand tapped her cheeks until her tired eyes fluttered open. 

The remembrance of her situation pressed back onto her mind. Deirdre yawned out as she looked out to the mansion, lit majestically in the night sky. Tommy slid closer to her, his lips pressed to her ear as they both looked out. 

“Welcome home, my love” Tommy spoke faintly as she took in her new prison.

[igotanidea]

Nikolai Lantsov x inferni!reader : Traitor

It was the same nightmare over and over again. Making her wake up in the middle of the night in tears with heart beating way to fast and ragged breath.

If only it was just a nightmare.

But it was more.

It was a memory.

Flahsback

“Here she is. My favorite Inferni.” Darkling smiled with his brightest smile, greeting Y/N as she entered his chambers.

“General Kirigan” she acknowledged him without any hesitation in the voice, and yet screaming inside. He was nice, too nice and she knew exactly why. He needed something from her. More precisely, he needed her.

While everyone at court were fooled by Kirigan’s charm and well put-on pretenses, Y/N was the only one to see right through him. The king, the queen, all the Grishas…. So silly when confronted with his bright smile and practiced speaking.

If only Nik was here…

But “the puppy prince” left few years prior, leaving her alone to deal with the potential enemy of the state and it hurt like hell. Firstly, because it seemed like Nik never cared about her at all, secondly because all the court and royal family believed her to be insane and mentally impaired the very second she even hinted at Darkling’s intention being dishonest. Y/N knew he was searching for the sun summoner and why was he doing this, but had to keep it a secret. It was like being torn into two opposite direction. She had to protect the royal family and Ravka she swore an oath to and that came with exposing Darkling, but at the same she had to protect herself and that meant getting into general’s good graces to avoid getting hanged for treason. And still protect the Lantsov, even that fool or a price Vasily.

Being some sort of double agent came with a heavy price.

Poor girl.

This was why she was called upon Kirigan every night and walked into his chambers. He always wanted something in return for keeping her secrets. Sometimes he needed her big brain and Inferni skills, sometimes it was .... more .... but it always, always left her with scars.

“Please Y/N. There is no need for formalities here.” He eyed her with those predatory eyes

“Why am I here tonight, general?” Y/N asked, still keeping her head high, back straight and gaze hardened.

“I….” he took a step closer and waved a hand towards the guards dismissively. The men bowed and left immediately “I have needs tonight.”

“Why… why don’t you ask Zoya?” she hissed “she’ll be more than happy to help you with those.”

“Oh, yes, Zoya…. You are not really in the good terms lately, are you?” he smirked, grabbing her hips and pulling her closer. “but then, you are not really anyone’s favorite Grisha, even in your own order, am I right?” his grip became unbearable “do not worry, dear. It’s a fair exchange. You give me that fire of yours and I keep you protected from anyone else” he muttered into her ear and she knew she was trapped for that night.

***

After everything she was left with pure hatred towards herself. She knew this was just a begging since intimacy was the first step. And after he made her a sobbing mess on his mercy, there were more …. practical tasks. Fires, strategies and plans she was always good at making.

But even with her help, Kirigan was slowly slipping. Slowly, yet consistently, and soon enough Grisha started seeing past his charm. Especially when he brought the sun summoner to the little palace. Y/N though herself to be smart enough to warn her about general’s purpose and tried to reach towards Alina.

Sadly, she was not.

And her attempt to warn miss Starkov ended up with the real, physical scars on her back. Those that could never properly heal even with Genya’s help.  The tailor was probably the only person in the palace who knew who did this to Y/N, but never said a thing. At least she was a bit of support.

However, the pain coming from the cuts was unbearable and was following her for days.

And so she made a decision to flee and search for Nikolai to bring him back to the country. She escaped during the night and when it was discovered the next morning she was quickly announced the wanted traitor.

***

She found Nikolai a few moments later, by accident, while walking the streets in some small village. She was exhausted and was slowly losing hope for the future when she heard noises coming from around the corner. A man and a woman, Shu, judging by the looks were laughing and bantering with each other and when Y/N raised her bloodshot eyes she saw the person she was so desperately looking for.

“Ni….” she started, but he was faster.

“Leave us.” He commanded his companions and only when they left he came towards her, wrapping arms around her. “Y/N” he whispered, breathing her in but quickly pulling away “you look terrible. And you could definitely use some cleaning.” He smirked “Why are you here?”

“Nik….” She sobbed desperately, tears falling from her eyes like a fountain she could not contain once they started “I….”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. Sh….” He hugged her tightly against his chest “you can tell me. Although I may have to warn you, no one here, except Tamar and Tolya knows my real identity. I’m Sturmhond.”

“The pirate?” she frowned, looking at him with surprise in the eyes

“Privateer….” He hissed “Now come on, whatever happened to you, you are safe now.”

He took her upon the ship and listened carefully to her story. She told him everything, except for the part how Darkling damaged her. It was not important, the country had to be put first. And it was, since they both created a plan to save it. First, get the sun summoner, secondly get Nik back to his prince-self and third, defeat the Darkling.

***

They were spending too much time together on the Volkvolny. There were to many jokes, silly fights and tension. And soon the crew started making ambiguous allusions to the character of their captain and the Inferni’s relationship. And Y/n soon had enough of it so gathering herself she confronted Nik about it.

“Captain, can I have a word with you?” she entered his cabin, not really caring what the answer would be.

“My favorite Inferni….” Unknowingly he used the same words as Darkling and it made her flinch “missed me that much?”

“With all those comments I hear all the time it feels like you are always with me” she rolled her eyes

“Is that why you are here? Came to make the rumors a reality?”

“Not exactly. I came to remind you I will never….” She never get to finish when with one long stride he was right in front of her, grabbing her waist and connecting their lips. At first she froze, shocked by the unexpected action but when he tried to pull away, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him back to her.

“You were saying….?” He muttered

“Oh, shut up…” Y/N locked her hands around his neck, wanting more and knowing he could give her that. She did not protest when he lifted her and walked her to the bed, laid her gently and slowly started to undress her. Saints, she wanted more and more and more, getting so greedy. “Nik….” Her little moan only spur him on.

“Tell me what you want…” Nikolai’s lips moved onto her neck, hands getting under her coat, caressing the skin on the sides and stomach.

“I want….” She panted and smiled lightly, teasingly “I want you to show me if you are truly as good as you are bragging to be.”

“Hm…” she smirked “not sure if you ready for this, love.”

***

As much as she hated to admit it, he was good. Really, really good and left her fully satisfied when she fell asleep in his loving embrace and woke up in them a couple hours later. Her back to his chest. 

“Where did you get those scars?” he muttered kissing along her neck and shoulder, avoiding the damaged skin.

“I…. I don’t really want to talk about it.” She sighed deeply “at least not yet.”

“That sentence just confirmed you see us together in the future. I mean, of course you do, you caught a prince, fireball. A big fish, am I not? ”

“You are unbelievable….” She turned to the other side to face him

“But you love me, don’t you? You admitted that quite a few times …”

“I hate you.” she punched his chest “what time is it? Isn’t your crew going to look for you?”

“Maybe. But those marks I left on you will be enough of the explanation.”

“Marks?” her eyes widened “oh my…..”

“Besides, I am also sure they heard you scream my name.”

“I’m going to kill you, Nik!”

“Come on, it was good, wasn’t it?” he caressed her shoulders “you can admit it, I won’t judge. After all, I am the one who lost his mind for you.”

“You lost your mind when you were a kid, and never found it since.”

“And all of it, because of a certain Inferni which I feel in love with.”

“What….?”

“I’m serious, Y/n.” he looked straight into her eyes “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Nik.”

“Great. Now that we got this covered, time to get up and get back to work!”

***

Besides that little unplanned thing, everything went smoothly. Soon, Alina and Mal joined the crusade and they all returned to Ravka happily, ready to stand against Kirigan. Sad part, old rumors did not die and soon, the prince heard about Y/N’s past and about her apparently being a traitor.

End of flashback

She was with Kirigan again. He was too close, causing her so much pain and she could not endure it all. Her skin aching, reddening and bruising. Again and again and again.

And that made her woke up. Sweaty, shaken and terrified, turning around and trying to reach to other side of bed but she found it empty. He was probably in the adherent room, listening to all his advisors and Grisha filling him in on the country situation.

“Nikolai?” she came thought the door and surprisingly found him alone, sitting on the chair, head hung low, running a hand through his hair. “What happened, my love?” in a second she was next to him grabbing his hand and caressing it gently.

“I… I’ve spoken to some people.” He started “about the country.”

“Is it that bad?”

„Were you conspiring with Darkling?” he said suddenly, his voice cold as ice and she could not recall any time in the past he was so indifferent towards her.

“What?” she gasped taking a step back, utterly terrified by that simple question. No,no, no, no. Oh, saint, please no.

“Answer me, Y/N. Were. You. Scheming. With him?” now his tone was angered, he was clenching his teeth to prevent himself from yelling.

“How could you even ask me that?” she stuttered, her heart breaking.

“I have every reason to suspect you have not been loyal. First of them being the fact you never told me about your past here. You were not ready to talk about it, huh? Now it would make sense why you have those marks on your back. This was punishment, wasn’t it?” he stood up, towering over her and suddenly she felt so small, so vulnerable against his rage. How could she ever explain it to him to make him understand?

“Nik…” poor girl trembled, hurt beyond any recognition “you don’t believe the rumors, do… do you?”

“Give me a reason not to.”

“You have no right to judge me! You don’t know what it was like! What is felt like to be forced to do things you don’t want to just to keep yourself alive!”

“Don’t I?” he looked straight into her eyes and that struck her with the force of lightning.

“You…. You really think what they say is true…. You….Oh my god, you think I am a traitor!” she cried and hid face in hands to avoid looking at him. He thought she betrayed the Lanstovs, so how come at this moment it felt like he was the one to do exactly the same to her.  

“I’m not accusing you of anything. “I just don’t….” he took a sharp breath and closed his eyes “I don’t want to see you right now. I need to think.“

“Nik….” She cried “Please, you have to listen to me…. It’s not what …..”

“What I have to is for you to leave.”

“Please!” she tried again, reaching for his hand, but he just turned around “Nik, I love you, I was nothing more than loyal, all my life and this is what I get in return?”

“Leave.” he commanded with his price voice

“No.” Y/N was not going to give up so easily

“Don’t make it any harder than it already is.” He warned coldly, but his eyes showed that it was painful for him as well.

“Let’s just talk about it, love, I’m begging you. Darkling, he….”

“I’m sorry Y/N….” his voice broke a bit “you leave me no choice….”

“So what, you are going to call your guards to escort me? Put me under lock and key until you clarify the situation?” she mocked “Don’t bother. I’ll make it easy for you. Might as well save any remnants of dignity I have left. “

 “I promise, you will get fair judgment if you cooperate.”

“Fair judgement? How…. How is this fair?” she sobbed “how is this fair that you believed them against me? I….. you know what? Fine. I’ll go.” Y/N angrily wiped away the tears and fixed her pants “You may not have Lantsov blood in your veins, moi tsar, but you surely act like one.” She turned around and walked away with the guards, missing that utterly broken and hurt expression on his face. But he had it coming.

***

He regretted treating her this way the moment she walked thought the door.

He was torn.

He was a king, he was supposed to be firm, unwavering and deliver objective justice by not being biased by personal likings and feelings.

But it was so damn hard.

He loved her, like no one before, with all his heart. Nik had already forgiven her for everything or at least desperately wanted to do so, but King Nikolai had duties, obligations and had to protect Ravka and put it first. He could not tolerate any symptom of not being loyal. Not under the current circumstances. 

But she was so broken…. So hurt and scarred. He was the reason tears showed in her eyes and that urge to just run after her, grab her, pull her close and kiss the pain away was overwhelming.

Nik would believe a single word of denial of those allegations coming from her mouth, but king Nikolai needed hard proof.

He had no idea what to do apart from running hands through his hair in despair.

As if that could help

***

“I don’t envy her. First she was used as a Darkling toy, now got into the black books of the prince”

 “She should have been more careful. Playing double with Lantsov and Kirigan couldn’t have ended well.”

“But still, in addition to those scars on the back she will have some mental damage. I pity her. Truly.”

“I don’t. She always had too big appetite and ambitions for her own good and…..”

“What are you talking about?” Nikolai peeked through the door, overhearing the guards chattering

“Moi tsar” they both saluted and bowed in respect

“What is this about?” he insisted, demanding explanation “Talk. Now.”

And that was how he learned the other side of the story.

And it left him heartbroken and full of unimaginable amount of guilt.

She was never going to forgive him for treating her this way, but he was ready to beg on his knees just to see even a glimpse of warm feelings from her.

***

While Nikolai was listening to the story and swimming in regret, Y/N was lying on her bed, back to the door, curled up, sobbing and shaking. It was just too much. It felt like she was accused of so many terrible things, since she was 15. First by Lantsovs, then by Kirigan, then by her fellow Grisha (give or take a few exceptions), and now by Nikolai. The last one hurt the most.

He should have believed her, not the gossip.

He should have listened.

He shouldn’t have ask her for explanation of the matter.

He broke her heart with the use of one little word.

Traitor.

How could he think she would ever betray him or his famliy. Even after everything the Lantsov did to her?

She got scars because she never lost hope he will return and put Ravka back together.

She was used, manipulated and laughed at, just because she saw more than anyone else.

And now….

Now he wouldn’t want to see her.

“Y/N…..”

“Genya?” Y/N propped herself on the elbow, meeting with the scarred face of her best friend. “What…. what happened to you?”

“nietchevo’ya……”she whispered looking down onto the floor, hiding her damaged face behind hair

“Oh, Genya!” the Inferni stood up and hugged the tailor, both of the girls started crying even more “I am so, so, so sorry. You did not deserve this. None of us ever deserved this.”

“I….” Genya stuttered “I should have taken your side. Back then….. But I chose to be silent and …..”

“Sh, sh….” Y/N caressed her hair “It’s in the past. We cannot dwell on that. We need to stick together now, that;s the only way….”

“Please, forgive me for everything …..”

“You did nothing wrong, my friend.” Y/n looked her straight into the eyes “you hear me? Nothing. We have to make hard choices sometimes and carry the results with us. But it doesn’t make us bad people. It does not make us monsters.” 

“Is that what you truly believe in?” a small, broken male voice came from behind and both girls turned around only to spot Nikolai, with disheveled hair and reddened face.

‘moi tsar” Genya try to bow, but Y/N stopped her from this

“not until the coronation.” He simply stated

“I will leave you two alone….”

“Y/N…”  Nik whispered taking a step forward trying to make her back away “I… I don’t even know how to begin expressing …..”

“Why are you here, Nik?” she fixed her gaze on the floor, not ready to look into his eyes

“I know everything now.”

“Which is?” now she raised head, single droplets falling down her cheeks “You know how I got the scars? Did they tell you how I was treated by everyone here? By Darkling? By your mother? By Apparat? Like no one.”

“I know….”

“Did your informer told you I created dozens of plans and strategies in case of any attack from Darling attack on your family and shared them with generals and they called me insane? Did they tell you I was a playtoy? Did you believe them only because you saw Genya damaged in similar way? Did they tell you…..” she broke and fell onto the ground, clutching her heart desperately. It was all coming back and she could not breathe, feeling the panic attack taking over her.    

“My love.” In a blink of an eye, Nikolai was next to her, embracing her, hoping she would not push him back. Luckily she clung to him tightly, searching for that safety and protection she always felt in his arms. He messed up. Really bad. And yet she wasn't figthing him. “Saints, I swear I never meant to cause you any harm.”

“I…. I…… I know….. I.... need to tell you the whole truth, you deserve it."

"You don't have to say a single word, darling."

"I want to..... I....." she took a sharp, shaking inhal ready to go on, but was stopped.

“No. Hush. I’m so sorry.” He kissed her head and pulled her closer “I can’t even tell you how, love. I was torn between being your Nikolai and the king everyone wants me to be. Guess I failed at both.”

 “No.” she shook her head and slightly moved away, but still staying in his arms “you… did not....”

“I did, my love, if it puts you in such state.”

“No.” she gulped “you, Nik, have the power to make Ravka a better place. To make everything better. I know it. And it comes with hard choices and  …..”

“And you should never be one of those. You are my priority and I;m sorry I was blinded.”

“Heavy is the head who wears the crown….” She quoted the poem they used to know and mock as children “guess we only understand the true meaning behind it now.”

“I love you….” he cupped her cheeks and wiped the tears away

“I love you too….”

“Can you forgive me?”

“As long as you promise to never doubt me in the future. And to talk to me if something bothers you. I will never cause you any harm.”

“Guess now you will have to.” He smirked “You’re gonna have to make us even.”

“Idiot.” She rolled her eyes “you are an idiot, moi tsarevich. Here, I just offended the head of the country. Is that enough for you?”

“That’s a start.” He smirked and captured her lips in his, slowly, gently, caressing her scared back at the same time. “I swear to you, everyone who ever hurt you will be punished. I will hit Kirigan with everything I have. And as for my mother.... mother of Ravka" he muttered "I should have known what my family was capable of. I am sorry, my love...."

"Just be better."

"I will do the best I can as long as you are by my side." she nodded" now, come on, we got job to do and I need you with me.”

“Ugh! After a kiss like that I was expecting a bit more of an apology..."

“I solemnly swear to continue once we are done. Is that worth waiting for?”

“Let’s hope you can live up to your promises, prince.”  

@bradleyroosterbradshawfr

@hauntedenthusiasttragedy

[elijahs-dumps]

Nikolai Lantsov and his constant identity crisis known as Sturmhond

I'm currently in the process of re-reading all the Grishaverse books, and I'm about to start King of Scars. But before even starting to re-read that book I can see the seeds being planted when it comes to Nikolai's struggles with his identity. I feel like this is a really underrated aspect of Nikolai's character, which is strange to me since it's basically what his entire main arc is about in the King of Scars duology. This is why it was hinted at in Siege and Storm as well as Ruin and Rising.

Nikolai loves to be loved. Because of this, he is constantly changing his personality or demeanor to please whoever he is talking too. Alina mentions this many times through out Siege and Storm, and even believes it to be "creepy" how easily Nikolai can change himself for others. It's part of the reason why it takes her so long to truly trust Nikolai.

However, Sturmhond is a persona created by Nikolai for Nikolai. The differences between Sturmhond and Nikolai are minute, but they're undeniably there. For example, Sturmhond relies on his greed to make his decisions. He's also quicker to resort to violence than Nikolai usually is. He's still clever, forthcoming, charming, flirty, rich, well-respected. All the basic things that make Nikolai himself to the untrained eye, but it's the smaller differences that truly matter. In any role that Nikolai has to play through out his life, he always tries to keep the "main" or "most obvious" parts of himself present. These small changes are what make the bigger difference, especially since it's harder for others to pick up on when he interacts with them.

Sturmhond was originally created as a way for Nikolai to command respect or instill fear with his crew and his enemies, when it was necessary. Being a sea captain required Nikolai to abandon a lot of the things he'd learned while growing up in the Grand Palace and serving in the First Army. Thus, Sturmhond was born!

But after Sturmhond's reputation was secured, Nikolai most definitely could've started to slip back into his true self. The persona was not as necessary anymore. But Nikolai, at least while he was at sea, still didn't truly know who he was when he was not performing for others. I think Nikolai clung to Sturmhond because he was scared of having to figure out who he is when he's not pretending all the time.

We see Nikolai contemplating becoming Sturmhond again near the end of Rule of Wolves, very briefly. And t's safe to say a big part of Nikolai misses his life as a privateer. Sturmhond has always been and always will be the freest Nikolai will ever feel. Because, there are differences between the two identities, but it's all still Nikolai in the end. Yes, Sturmhond was inevitable in many ways, especially since Nikolai needed to avoid the risk of capture. But when Nikolai became a privateer, I think he knew a new identity was bound to be needed. Nikolai chose at life at sea, therefore he chose to become Sturmhond. While most of his other identities were most likely born out of necessity. This is partially why he's so attached to the persona of Sturmhond, because it's one of the only things in Nikolai's life that he has been able to decide for himself.

That's why I think the concept of Sturmhond is the main contributor to Nikolai's issues with identity. Because even though Nikolai always knew he needed to obtain the throne eventually, he still enjoyed his freedom. In fact, freedom might be the only thing Nikolai craves more than validation from others. This scares Nikolai, because validation from others is something he can almost always get when he needs to. But his freedom, away from Ravka and its royal court, is not something he's ever been able to control in that way.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hi Whimsy🖤

I'm new here and this is my first ask so I'm sorry if I haven't done this right. If you're comfortable with it and are able to can I get a Prince Nuada x chubby f!reader enemies to lovers anything (with nsfw if you're fine with that).

You have full reign over the direction and themes of this, anything is appreciated!

Thank you for your time🌻

Hello! Now this is something that actually deserves a full multi-part fic, so I thought of coming up with a detailed outline for the moment. I hope you like it!

“A prince’s regard”

Pairing: Prince Nuada x chubby F! reader (Human | Second person POV)

Themes: Enemies to lovers | Soft | NSFW

Warnings : Angst-ish | Mentions of wounds | Mention of character death (Nuada’s mother) | Nuada being a bit of a jerk in the beginning | Insecurities | Nuada gets a little handsy at the end, but in a cute way.

Wordcount: 2.2k words

Summary: As part of a greater plan to encourage peace and understanding between humans and elves, a lottery is held for elves and humans to live amongst each other. You’re one of them, and the elf you are paired off with during the lotter is none other than Nuada himself.

A/n: If anyone wants to make use of these I say go for it, but please tag me if you do.

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

🍃As part of a peace treaty with mortals, King Balor proposed an exchange of culture and knowledge between the two former warring races. Selected humans would live amongst the elves as attendants, handmaidens, stewards, and students, and elves would do the same with humans.

🍃A lottery is organized and monitored by the BPRD to stop parties with vested interests from meddling and upsetting the delicate balance of such a hard-won peace. Offices spread all over the world turn into lottery centers, and any elf or mortal wishing to add their name to the list is encouraged to do so.

🍃The numbers may not have been record-breaking, but enough elves and humans registered all the same. Your name was one of them. You did it on a dare, and with your friends, thinking nothing would ever come out of it.

🍃When the announcements start, you join the others in front of the TV, listening to names being called out, along with the names of families and individuals they would be paired with. Your name was not called on the first day. It was not called on the second or third day either. It was disappointing, to be sure, but you made peace with it. The days passed, with more and more names being announced. Then, after a fortnight had passed, you listened, dumbfounded, while your own name was announced to the world in crisp words. You were even more astounded when you found that you were being paired off with none other than the crown prince of Bethmoora himself.

🍃Your friends take you shopping as you would be moving into a series of abandoned railway tunnels he had converted into a luxurious palace. No one has seen the inside of it except for his father and sister, and the handful of attendants that served him.

🍃You’re nervous. Not just because you would be living with elven royalty, but also because Nuada is well known for hating humans.

🍃The prince was cold and aloof when you walked in through thick wooden doors full of strange symbols carved into them. “For protection,” Princess Nuala said, “against any evil that tries to make its way inside.”

🍃She was exceedingly warm where her twin is not, asking dozens of questions about your life, your friends, your family, everything. Nuala helped you settle into your new rooms and then showed you around the vast network of tunnels and chambers her brother called home. Everything was dimly lit, because that was how he liked it. There were sculptures and priceless works of art everywhere, hundreds upon hundreds of candles, thick, plush carpets, and the library was unlike anything you had ever seen.

“Do not touch anything.” He hissed, startling you. Nuada had walked up to you without making a sound. It was more than a little unnerving that he could do such a thing. “These treasures are priceless, and I will not see them sullied by mortal hands such as yours.”

Nuala apologized profusely. “Some of the sculptures you see here belonged to our mother,” she went on to explain after he disappeared down another corridor. “And my brother is quite attached to them.”

She did not say more on the matter, and she took you to her own rooms and hosted you to a light supper. At least, that was what she called it. An elaborate meal had been laid out in the dining room of her apartment. During dinner, Nuala informed she had to return to the BPRD, as her true home was there, with Abe. She would visit from time to time, but her place was elsewhere. Your heart sank, for it meant you would have to be alone with Nuada.

“Do not fret,” she urged. “My brother has a good heart; it is just that he guards it so fiercely. Give him time, y/n. He will come around. Mr. Wink will be here as well, so you will not want for company.”

“That’s comforting,” you tell yourself. Mr. Wink was large and imposing and spoke in a language you did not understand, and his loyalty would always belong to Nuada. Still, you made peace with Nuala’s leaving, and enjoyed the rest of your dinner.

🍃During the course of the subsequent days and weeks, Nuada would go out of his way to avoid you. He dined by himself, trained by himself, and kept to his own chambers when he was not needed elsewhere. If, by chance, you did run into him, he would respond with a curt grunt before walking away. If you came upon him training, he would order you to leave him in peace. Sometimes, not always, but sometimes, he would walk out of a room if you walked into it. It stung. What made it worse was knowing your stay had to last a full year before a change in placement could be requested. And that made you wretched, because the end of that year was still a long way off. Resentment took root, and you slowly began to loathe the prince for making living with him so hard.

🍃Mr. Wink, on the other hand, was surprisingly nicer, allowing you to join him while he used the mechanical toys that kept him entertained, watching TV with you, and even letting you read to him once in a while. He went so far as to ask through Nuala for you to help him learn your language.

It was a trial. Truly, it was a trial. Mr. Wink was a creature of fixed habits, and modern languages were strange to his ears. Once, he nearly flipped over a table in frustration. You had to keep to your sofa and hide your giggles while he ranted and raved and declared, through Nuala during her next visit, that human languages were languages born from the pits of hell.

“They may be languages from the pits of hell,” you tell him, “but you still need to learn. Come on. You can do this.”

The lessons continued. And Nuada’s avoidance of you continued as well. 

🍃“Why do you always avoid me?” You finally mustered your courage and confronted him after breakfast. “I know you are not all that happy about it, but do you have to go out of your way to make me feel unwelcome?”

“Because you are mortal,” he rasped sharply. “That alone is enough. Now leave me. I have better things to do with my time.”

🍃And so it continued, until one dark November night, when an injured Mr. Wink brought him home, covered in wounds. A raid had gone wrong, you were told. Hellboy had taken it into his head to charge straight into a hive of tooth fairies, the largest that had been found in North America. Many in the team were injured, and Nuada was one of those who were worse off. Doctors from the Bureau came over and did the best they could. You had to see to his care after they left, as Nuala could not leave the BPRD. She too had suffered the same harm, even though she never left the facility.

For several days, Nuada slipped in and out of consciousness. You wanted to let him struggle out of spite, but seeing him helpless and weak convinced you to do otherwise. You changed his dressing, gave him bed baths to clean him up, and even changed his clothes. You avoided looking at the scars that marred an otherwise near-perfect body. It would be rude to do so, you tell yourself. He would not like being gawked at.

You brushed his hair and then read to him before making yourself comfortable on a nearby pillowed bench that served as your bed. Sometimes, you would find him looking at you with a strange expression in his eyes while you went about looking after him. You didn’t know what to make of it.

🍃“You must eat something, my prince,” you insisted one evening, holding a spoonful of soup to his mouth. “Just a spoonful. Please.”

Nuada’s appetite had deserted him, and you had to feed him his meals. He fussed and grumbled and muttered choice words in the language of his people, but he would yield to your entreaties in the end and make himself eat. It started with a spoonful, and then another, and another. Finally, when he was strong enough, he could eat properly.

🍃Then he started to talk. It’s about the little things at first: the meal before him, his sister’s wellbeing, and your lessons with Mr. Wink.

“He speaks very highly of you,” he confessed, much to your surprise. “He says you treat him with respect.”

“Do other elves treat him with respect?”

“No,” he replied. "Trolls are seen as, how do you mortals put it?" Nuada searched for the right word. "Oh yes. As the knuckledraggers of my world. Mr. Wink is a remnant of a more primitive age and, therefore, unworthy of true respect in the eyes of many. Besides my sister and myself, you are the only one who is openly kind to him."

"You are kind to him, and yet you treat me with scorn," you sighed. 

The prince said nothing. He grew quiet and thoughtful. You take it as a sign to clear his tray and leave.

🍃Life with him became easier after that. While he rested, Nuada spoke of all the things he had seen and all the wondrous creatures he had met. You listened to his tales with rapt attention, for few mortals knew of such things. Finally, he opened up about his hatred for humans and why he allowed it to fester in his heart for so long.

“They killed my mother,” he spat. “When father left for war, mother traveled with him. She would stay at camp while he took off for the battlefield. He thought he had no cause for worry, for it was an unwritten rule, you see, for a military camp to be left untouched even during the height of fighting. There could be women and children present. Humans did not care for that. As soon as father’s warriors were out of sight, they attacked the camp. My mother… let us just say she did not survive.”

You did not know what to say, except for "I'm sorry.” Nuada smiled sadly and patted your hand.

“Tis not your fault,” he countered. “And it is I who should be apologizing." Nuada paused, and hesitated. "You have been nothing but considerate of my wishes the entire time, and you went out of your way to take care of me even after how I behaved in the beginning. I am ashamed of myself and must beg for your forgiveness.”

🍃Forgiveness would take a while, but Nuada did all that he could to make amends. He even invited you to accompany him to a great feast as his honored guest. That gave you pause, for while Nuada was lithe and graceful and everything a mighty warrior ought to be, you thought yourself to be the opposite of it all and told him so.

“Everyone would compare me to the other ladies,” you agonized after changing into yet another gown, one that was so soft it felt like you were clothed in nothing but air. “I cannot go looking like this.”

“No one will compare you to others,” he insisted. Nuada came into your rooms after wondering what was taking you so long. “They would not dare do so. Besides, there is nothing to give you cause for concern. Like your hair, for example. It looks beautiful the way you have arranged it.”

A flash of heat crept up your throat. No one had complimented you like this before. “It is?”

“Indeed.” Nuada came closer. “And that dress. How artfully it clings to your body. You have made a wise choice with your garments, y/n.”

“Oh.” Now your cheeks were aflame. “You’re not lying? You really like how I look?

“As my sister would tell you, lying is not something I excel at.” He grew bolder, and brushed his hand over your hip, your waist. “Soft,” he murmured. “Even softer than your dress.”

His touch was electrifying. And he was right. Lying was not something he was skilled at. You saw it with your own eyes—how he could not even pretend to be gracious in the beginning. You flushed and looked away, unsure of what to do or say. Nuada reached over and lifted your chin, making you meet his gaze.

“Did I go too far?” He murmured softly.

“No,” you mumbled. “I… I just didn’t expect such attention from someone like you. You are the crown prince. You’re dashing and skilled, and you're the greatest warrior among your people. And I… I am me.”

He went quiet for a while, as if he were thinking. “Then give me the chance to show you how you are so much more than what you believe yourself to be,” he proposed. “Can you do that, y/n? Give me such a chance?”

He was holding out his hand, his eyes bright and determined. But there was something else in those vivid golden-yellow eyes of his. Something more than determination. It tugged at you and drew you in.

He is trying, you think to yourself. He is really trying. And would it be awful to be at the receiving end of his affections?

You decided it would not be so awful after all and placed your hand in his.

tags: @nupppuff @thepjofanqueen