#her safe person is the husband her marriage was failing with

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Quirky representations of dementia should go die actually

[wonder-worker]

Is it true that Elizabeth of York birth celebrated like she was a son? I have seen some historians say this.

Hi! Yes, Edward IV did celebrate his daughter’s birth as though she was a male heir (“a prince”), iirc as per the Great Chronicle.

While we have no contemporary reports at the time of Elizabeth of York's birth, we know that Luchino Dallaghiexia reported that the birth of Edward and Elizabeth's third child, Cecily of York, "rejoiced the king and all the nobles exceedingly*, though they would have preferred a son'. Wanting a son (ie: an heir) was typical for their time period, likely enhanced by Edward and Elizabeth's unprecedentedly controversial marriage, her very unsuitable origins and his own status as a usurper. The fact that he was described as being "exceedingly" delighted at the birth of his third daughter in a row regardless does support the claim that he would have gone over-the-top to celebrate the birth of his first legitimate** child.

Hope this helps!

*Bizarrely, I have seen several historians and blogs using Dallaghiexia's letter to claim that he was bitterly disappointed at Cecily of York's birth. I don't understand how historical reading comprehension can be so poor that "rejoiced the king exceedingly" has somehow been rewritten as the...exact opposite of that. With no self-awareness whatsoever. **His illegitimate daughter Margaret (known as Elizabeth for some reason) was almost definitely born before his marriage. We don't know the birth dates of his other two illegitimate children: I think the likeliest conception date for Arthur was in early 1470, but it's unverified; and we know nothing about Grace (which was in fact her surname, not her name) other than the fact that Elizabeth Woodville seems to have been very attached to her.

[silvreflames]

things you'll be hard pressed to learn about nesta from nesta so i am telling you, pt 1:

the grooming she was made to endure at the hands of her own mother to prepare her for marriage, first in the hopes of securing her family's place in society and then in saving her family from poverty

[changbunnies]

All About You (18+)

♡ Pairing: Royal Knight/Bodyguard!Minho x Princess!Reader

♡ Genre: age gap, royal au, historical au, arranged marriage au (reader only), angst, kind of forbidden love? (maybe more than kind of), basically porn with plot

♡ Word Count: 7.5k

♡ Summary: You, the princess who ran away from the castle after finding out your father, the king, has finalized your arranged marriage. Minho, your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, tasked with bringing you back home at all costs. When found, you hit Minho with a very interesting proposition- for him to be the one you share all your "firsts" with, instead of your inevitable husband.

♡ Warnings: age gap !! reader is ~23 while minho is in his 40s, please don't read if this makes you uncomfortable!, uneven power dynamics, outdated traditions and views on women to suit the setting, brief reference to death by guillotine and death in general, mentions of injury and swordfighting

♡ Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): lowkey corruption kink, loss of virginity (reader), pet names (princess (mostly as a title), good girl), slight sub + dom dynamics, soft dom minho, a lot of kissing (should be expected from me atp), nipple play, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), slight overstim, unprotected piv, multiple orgasms, creampie

♡ Notes: at this point i am determined to write a royal au fic for every member, and my newest offering to you is minho <3 i was literally possessed writing this like once the idea hit my brain i had to get it out asap

♡ Disclaimer: please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people.

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked.

In recent years, he had one job, and one job only, and that was to take care of the princess. Make sure she’s safe, escort her to where she needs to be and watch over her at all times– that’s all. Not always an easy job, but one of vital importance that Minho took with utmost seriousness. In the 3 years it’s been since becoming your royal knight and glorified bodyguard, he never messed up this critically. 

You always had a rebellious streak and challenged authority, everyone in the castle knew that. And part of Minho’s job, apart from keeping you safe, was keeping you in check– and the king made it extremely clear that failing to do so was not an option.

He lost track of the amount of times he uttered the words “Princess, please think rationally,” or “please consider your responsibility to the kingdom, don’t do this,” in a near desperate attempt to get you to listen to reason. 

And today, he fucked up the worst he ever had. He knew you were upset tonight, but he was under the impression he successfully calmed you down, and that you wouldn’t do anything rash. He turned his back to you, thinking the storm had been quelled, and that you’d listen to your father, even if doing so felt like pulling teeth. He underestimated however, just how deep your sadness and anger truly ran, and the very moment you saw an opening, you took it. 

You fled from the castle with blind determination, nowhere to go and with little of value in your hands, fueled purely by the desire to escape your unfair circumstances, and live your own life by your own means. You may not believe it, but Minho understood, and felt for you– he really did. But that didn’t change what his duty was, and even if it made you hate him, he had to do his job to the best of his ability. 

So now here he was, roaming the streets looking for you, the hours passing in a blur. You must’ve done a good job of concealing your identity, because no one he asked had seen a young woman matching the princess' description. And as the minutes ticked by, and sunset turned to midnight, he was at a complete loss of what to do.

He made record time combing the entire bustling town, stopping into places full to the brim with people in the hopes he’d catch a glimpse of you in the crowd, and yet there seemed to be no trace of you anywhere. It was easy for someone to hide their presence in a crowd, or in the rowdy environment of a tavern, and you were more than intelligent enough to blend into a crowd and divert attention away from yourself.

It was entirely possible that Minho had seen you at some point, and simply didn’t realize it, though he liked to believe he’d recognize you anywhere, no matter what you wore. Minho scowled, clenching his teeth as he scanned the dark horizon of the treeline; should he check the outer walls of the town for a clue, or double back and check the streets again?

He doubts you made it out of the town easily, considering you likely had no money on your person and little experience with the realities of the world. You were intelligent, yes, but sheltered; he could easily imagine you quickly getting in over your head, thinking you could make it to the next town without issue, only to end up lost and in need of help, with no one for miles to hear your desperate cries. 

Fuck. If he couldn’t find you, his head would most certainly be meeting the cold steel of a guillotine. He had no family who would mourn his loss, but still, he wasn’t ready to face his mortality. And the king, despite being someone he could call a close friend, would spare no mercy if he failed to keep his one and only daughter safe.

But really, there was more to it than just the threat of death that kept him searching for you. Believe it or not, he genuinely wanted you safe and well, and he'd do anything to ensure you made it back home, even if it made you curse him for the rest of his days. 

As if God himself heard his prayers and decided to grant him a miracle, Minho sees you– there, on the outskirts of town, holding your cold hands up to your face and letting your breath warm them. It’s dark, the street barely even illuminated enough to discern your recognizable features, but he knows without a doubt that it's you standing there in the cold street, because truly, he knows you anywhere. 

By the time you realize you’ve been spotted and recognized, it’s already much too late to flee. Minho approached you with utmost haste, reaching out and grabbing your arm, lest you make the foolish decision to try to escape again. His hold, while not rough enough to hurt you, is firm, and it only takes one attempt at pulling your arm from his hold to know this is it; your escape attempt has failed, and you’ll be dragged back to the castle and reprimanded for your “temper tantrum.” 

Your father never listens to you, no matter how hard you try to make him understand and see your point of view. Maybe if you were born a boy, your opinions would be important to him, and he’d see you are more than an object to pawn off to whatever man gave him the most political power.

“Princess–” “I’m not going home,” you interject before he even has a chance, though you already know it’s in vain. There is no avoiding returning to your glorified prison now that Sir Minho has you in his grasp. 

He sighs, but his face changes to one of sympathy, his grip on your arm loosening ever so slightly. “Can we at least go to an inn room? It’s not safe for a young lady to be on the streets at night,” he reasons with you, as gently as he can manage.

Normally Minho is quite stern with you, but you get the impression that he feels being stern isn’t the right approach tonight. You’re known for expressing yourself very vocally, even when doing so is extremely ill-advised, and he is well aware of how opinionated and fiery you are. 

But treating this display as anything other than a genuine act of desperation, a culmination of years of perceived disrespect and conformity, would be another critical error– one he can’t afford to make. So he will be firm, yes, but gentle in his approach.

You frown as you look at him; you’re stubborn by nature, and part of you wants to fight against him until the bitter end, but he’s not wrong about the streets being unsafe for you at night. You know he won’t let you escape again come morning, but that’ll have to be a problem for later; for right now, you really should heed his advice and go to an inn for the night. 

“Fine,” you concede, much to Minho’s relief. He could’ve forced you to go with him if he really needed to, but he’d rather avoid doing something so unpleasant. He leads you to a nearby tavern, which is still bustling with activity even at the late hour.

He keeps you close as he pushes through the crowd of rowdy drunks to the dual innkeep-bartender, hoping that there is still a room available. The man departs, coming back with a key dangling in hand, “You’re in luck. Last room’s all yours.” 

Minho thanks the man and pulls out his satchel to pay him, leaving a few extra coins as a tip before stashing it back in his pocket, along with the key he was given, and the two of you go up the stairs together.

“There’s only one bed,” you comment as you step inside the room, though Minho doesn’t seem to care much about that fact. “That’s fine, don’t plan on sleeping anyways,” he says as he removes his leather scabbard from his back, resting it against the back of the chair in the corner of the room. 

You frown as you sit on the bed and watch him; he must’ve been in a hurry when he received word you fled from the castle, as he wasn’t wearing any of his armor, strictly in casual wear you’d very rarely seen him in. Probably for the best, you think, because if anyone saw a royal knight desperately searching the streets, multiple alarms would be raised.

He lights the fireplace, hoping to quickly spread some heat throughout the cold room, before he sits in the chair, crossing his arms and watching you carefully. Deserved, you suppose. How is he supposed to trust you’re not going to flee at the first available moment just as before?

You certainly don’t make his job easy for him; he can’t take his eyes off you for a second. The silence between you lingers for some time, the crackling of the fire the only sound either of you hear, apart from the muffled patrons enjoying their drinks downstairs. Minho, despite his relaxed posture, looks like he’d be ready to jump up at a moment's notice should he need to. 

You sigh; should you just try to sleep? It’d feel awkward and uncomfortable to try to fall asleep with someone's eyes boring holes into you, but you really didn’t give him much of a choice. “Do you want to tell me why you ran away from the castle?” Minho asks suddenly, breaking the tempered silence between you. “You already know the answer to that,” you respond, crossing your own arms now. 

“Is marrying Sir Jin really so bad?” he asks, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Yes, obviously. I don’t want to. Not that you or my father care about me or anything I think.”

Minho’s brow furrows, the frown on his face growing. “Princess, you know that’s not true. I do care about you.”

“Do you? I haven’t been able to tell in the slightest,” you counter a bit harshly, “and you could help me if you wanted to, you know. I’d be fine out there if I was with you.”

Okay, maybe you’re not being fair to Minho right now. You do know he cares, but realistically, what is he supposed to do? If he disobeyed your fathers orders, he’d be lucky if his only punishment was a swift death.

He was assigned to you because your father trusts him to do the right thing and follow orders dutifully, a trust that is usually not misplaced. But he has to admit, the more and more time he spends with you, the more he feels for you. 

Minho never knew your father, the king, to be an unreasonable or cruel man, but in your eyes, he might as well be the devil himself. And maybe he is cruel– because how do you strip someone of their freedom and choices for your own gain, and not see the harm it causes, the wrong in it?

You are more than a pawn, more than a subject, more than his daughter– you are a person. A person with thoughts, feelings, and opinions as real as any mans, who did not deserve to be treated lesser than for the simple crime of being born a girl. 

But what is Minho if not an upholder of the status quo? He was just a single man, and even if he recognized how unfairly you were treated in comparison to the golden child that was your elder brother, what was he supposed to do? He always performed his tasks dutifully and without question, and it wasn’t until he met you that he began to struggle with what he should do, and what he wants to do.

And maybe he could get you out of this town, help you live a quiet, modest life somewhere new, away from the watchful eye of your father. Where he could be your protector, same as now, but without the guilt, burden, or threats.

You know you shouldn’t take your frustrations about your life out on Minho, but he’s really all you have. You trust him with your life, and he’s shown you multiple times that he cares about you beyond the duty he has to you, or to your father. He's your only confidant, the only person in the world you can rely on. 

Your eyes linger on the scar across his nose– he got it protecting you, the other man’s sword barely missing his eyes and cutting just across his face, and it was only one of many scars he obtained in his service to you. He’d pick you up and run with you in his arms when you were injured, he’d fight off attackers without breaking a sweat, sustain injury after injury all to make sure you were safe.

You’d watch his back, always stunned and mesmerized at the ease at which he cut down your enemies, as if they were nothing but paper. When he’d turn back to you, breathing heavy and sweat only just starting to trickle on his brow, his eyes would turn from the harshest winter chill to the gentle warmth of a spring morning.

He was quiet, stern, but his care ran far deeper than one would think just by looking at him, and all you had to do to see the true depth of his feelings was look in his eyes. So you knew it was unfair to accuse him of not caring about you, to expect him to go above and beyond for you, to ask that he go against your father to give you what you want. But you were just so sad, frustrated, angry, that you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Maybe you’ll grow to love him if you give him a chance,” Minho suggests; you both know that’s never going to happen, but what else can he say? He never married, and had no children, dedicated to his duty as he was; he had no real advice to offer someone when it came to love, romance, and the like, but he imagined it wasn’t impossible to fall in love if you just met Sir Jin with an open mind.

But as stated, that’s never going to happen. You’re stubborn to a fault, and once you’ve decided something, there’s no changing it. The best Minho can ever manage to do is get you to reconsider, but even then, you’re still likely to go about things the way you originally wanted to, with no regard for consequences or keeping up appearances. You’re a fiery woman, there was no doubt about it, and you don’t let go of things easily. 

“The mere thought of giving that man all my firsts makes me sick, it’s vile,” you scrunch up your nose, making your distaste for the man very clear. Minho doesn’t even think you’ve actually met the man yet, but you’ve already decided you hate him– you don’t want to marry him, and so you’ll be firmly stuck in your opinion, no matter what anyone says. 

“Maybe this isn’t advice I should be giving you, but.. You don’t necessarily have to. To give him your firsts, or love him. Find someone you do love, even if you have to keep it a secret, and hold him with all you’ve got. It still wouldn’t be ideal, of course, but.. Well, it’d be something, at least.” Really, Minho is supposed to encourage you to be an obedient daughter and listen to your father without question, but he knows you well enough to know that’s a fool's errand. 

You’re never going to listen, never going to be obedient, never going to stop being opinionated. So what’s the next, most realistic piece of advice he can give? Lie, of course. Make your father and inevitable husband believe you’re a good, obedient wife and daughter, and then go live the life you really want behind their backs.

It's dishonest as all hell, and there would be consequences if you got caught, but if you’re going to be miserable no matter what you do, you might as well try, right? It’s what Minho thinks he would do if he were you, anyways. 

“What about you?” you ask and Minho raises a brow in question. “What about me?” he asks, and what you respond with makes him feel like the air has been punched out of his lungs. “What if I gave my firsts to you?”

Did he hear you right? There must be some mistake with his ears, there’s absolutely no way you said what he thinks you did. “You– what?” Surely you can’t be serious about this. You’re the princess, and he’s just the man who happens to be your guard; a man who is your fathers age at that. But the way you look at him, he can tell you’re not joking in the slightest.

“Princess, I couldn’t possibly accept that,” Minho says sternly, his arms no longer crossed but instead resting on the arms of the chair, hands beginning to grip tightly so he can ground himself and try to make sense of this insane situation.

“Why not? I’d be happier if I gave it to someone like you. I trust you,” you say so nonchalantly it makes his head reel. What the fuck is happening right now? 

And truly, Minho was the ideal man; at least in your opinion. He was handsome, mature, realistic and practical, knew how to reel you in without disregarding the root of what you feel or being disrespectful to you.

He never dismissed how you felt, made you feel over emotional or like a fool who overreacts; he’d ask you to see reason, sure, urge you to think more before acting, but he never, never made you feel like your feelings were invalid. And he genuinely cared about you, and you liked him, were attracted to him, so if the opportunity presented itself then.. Why not take the chance? 

Fuck. Minho was absolutely fucked.

You were just freshly 20 when Minho first met you and became your guard, and hard as he tried to never see you beyond the platonic, he’s always viewed you as an attractive young woman. He liked your fiery spirit, liked how you had the bravery and gall to challenge authority, a skill that in recent months he felt he was sorely lacking. Your attitude was refreshing, and despite your circumstances, you never acted like a damsel in need of his help. 

In a different life, in another world, maybe you two could have met as equals, not painfully stuck to the rules of an unfair, unforgiving reality. You’d be each other's foil; you, the impassioned dreamer with as many thoughts and ideas as there were stars in the sky, and he the realist, who didn’t dim your light but tempered it into a steady, sustainable flame.

You’d take him out on adventures, out of the strict box of his comfort zone, and he’d ground you more firmly to reality, never discouraging your dreams but making sure you took the necessary steps in the right way, responsibly. You'd match one another perfectly, complementary and meant for each other. 

But that’s not your reality, and you both know it. There would never be any coming back from this if you go through with it, and there’s no ideal, happy future for you two to share. “I’m not so disillusioned to think this would be anything other than sex for you,” you continue, and he swallows, mind still racing impossibly, “but it’d be much more meaningful for me with you than some bastard I don’t like in the slightest.” 

You’re wrong. So wrong, and you don’t even know it. It would never be “just sex” with you. You mean much, much more to him than you even realize. “You won’t regret asking a man like me? There’d be no taking it back once it’s done,” Minho can’t help but ask, rationality and reason desperately trying to gain control. 

Despite what your father may believe, you’re a grown woman capable of making your own decisions. And this is a decision you make with full knowledge of what it means for you, more than willing to accept whatever consequences may arise for committing such a sin.

In an ideal world, you’d be allowed to love who you wish, live where you wish, do what you wish. But this isn’t an ideal world, and if there is only one thing you can ever be granted in this life that feels as if it isn’t even your own, it would be this– to have one night, just one night, where you can be the person you want to be, with Minho by your side.

“You’re free to reject me if you’re not attracted to me, but.. My only regret would have been not trying. So I ask, are you not attracted to me?” He looks you over carefully following your question, grip on the armrests tightening.

Admitting that he’s attracted to you may as well be a death sentence. But he can’t lie to you, completely at your mercy. Fuck the king, it’s you he’s really loyal to. All he’s ever done, all he ever will do, it’s always for you. He’s always tried to act in your best interest, to do the right thing, to keep you safe and protected. But does keeping you safe even matter if you’re miserable? 

“I am,” Minho swallows, answering honestly despite his better judgment, “You have no idea how attracted to you I am.”

“So why hesitate?” you ask, fingers trail down your lap, over your knees, to where the very bottom of your dress lies. He watches you, eyes darting from your hands back to your face. You’re watching him too, carefully, considering his every reaction before you make your next move, impressively calculated. 

You take the hem of your dress in your hands, pulling it up leisurely, getting it halfway up your thighs before Minho rises from his chair. He's is in front of you in an instant, his hands grabbing your wrists and stopping you from lifting it any further.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Princess,” he breathes, voice low and strained; he can’t lose control of his desires, but fuck, you’re making it so hard. You look up at him, meeting his gaze with the same fiery determination you always have, but there’s more there than just that this time. Desire, want, need– all for him.

Fuck it. He’s going to get burned, but maybe it’s worth it. You’ll be his funeral pyre, engulfing him in your flame until all that remains are the ashes of the man he was supposed to be. And what a beautiful way to end his life it will be, lost between your thighs, feeling your nails dig and claw at his skin.

He lets go of your wrists, one of his hands coming to cup your face, thumb tracing over your bottom lip. “Has anyone ever kissed you, Princess?” he asks and you give a slight shake of the head, breathing a soft “No..”

He hums, and there’s a twisted sort of pleasure he derives from knowing he’ll be your first in every conceivable way. You’re not “innocent,” he knows you’re not, but there’s something about being your first kiss, your first cock, your first everything that makes him crazy. 

“And you want me to be the first one to kiss you?” he follows up with another question, corners of his mouth threatening to twist into a smile when you nod, a soft, honest “yes” leaving your lips effortlessly. He leans down towards you, keeping your head tilted up so he can easily meet your lips.

He does so softly, treating you with care. His lips are softer than you expected, and the feeling of them against your own fills you with butterflies. He carefully tilts you back, and you let your body fall back onto the mattress, head hitting the surprisingly soft pillows.

Minho crawls over you, spreading your legs apart just enough to get between them, your dress now hiked all the way up your thighs. He’s hovering over you, looking down at you with so much love and lust and that it leaves you speechless. “I’ll need you to listen to me tonight. Can you do that for me?” he asks, pressing light kisses to your jaw, under your ear, your neck. 

You can, because it’s Minho. He’d never hurt you, never try to control you, never make you feel lesser than. So you can listen to him, because you trust him with your care; he’ll take good care of you, you know he will. He smiles when you nod, and you see him smile so rarely that it makes your heart skip a beat; his role always requires him to be so stern and straight faced, that seeing him smile down at you like this is enough to melt you into a puddle. 

“You’re a good girl when you want to be, hmm?” he hums against your neck, resuming his trail of kisses against your skin, and you can’t explain why, but the words and tone he says them in makes your stomach flip.

If you were in a different world, and didn’t have to return home to the castle tomorrow, he’d take his time marking your neck, filling it with pretty shades of blue, purple, and red, sinking his teeth into your soft, supple skin. He just knows you’d look so pretty like that, and the way you react when his breath tickles your skin and his lips linger, tells him you’d like it too.

His fingers trail down your body, finding the hem of your dress and pulling it up over your chest. You lift your back off the bed when he separates from your neck, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and discarding it to the floor. He kisses you as he fiddles with the straps of your bra, effortlessly unhooking it in the back and pulling it down your arms and off your body. 

He may have never married, but he’s no stranger to being with and pleasuring women. And he’ll make sure he makes this a night you’ll always remember for all the right reasons. Capturing your lips in another kiss, his hands take in your now bare breasts, gently kneading and squeezing.

You try to squeeze your legs together, but his place between your thighs stops the act from happening, and he chuckles against your lips when he realizes what you’re doing. “Be patient, Princess, I’ll take good care of you,” he whispers before kissing you again, and you let out a small whine, not knowing exactly what you want but knowing you want something.

You gasp when he takes your nipples between your fingers and pinches them, not too hard of course, but enough to give him the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your body shudders, you feel dizzy with pleasure and excitement, and the feeling of his tongue circling yours is impossibly intoxicating. 

One of his hands travels down, over your stomach, coming between your bodies to feel your heat over your panties. He’s barely even begun and you’re already soaking the fabric, your eager anticipation for more of his touch palpable beyond all else. He nips at your bottom lip, gently tugging it between his teeth before soothing the sting with kitten licks, his hand slipping inside your panties to feel how slick you’ve gotten directly. 

Your body jolts when his fingers run between your folds, and he barely has to move them at all to get his fingers completely coated in your arousal. He pulls back to look at you, taking in the sight of your flushed face and swollen lips, pretty and perfect.

You’re panting, breathless, overwhelmed in the best way possible. You keen when his fingers rub over your clit in circles, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you lift your head from the pillows to watch. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asks, suppressing a grin when you whine and quickly nod your head.

“Want more, want you,” you mutter, the most timid you’ve ever been in regards to a man. He coos, giving you a sweet kiss as he continues his stimulation to your sensitive spot. “Remember what I said? Patience, Princess, you’ll get what you want. We can’t rush and have you getting hurt, can we?” 

You pout as you concede, and God, he finds that so cute; he’s never seen you actually act shy and pouty before, and it makes him want to give you the entire world. He’ll give you everything you want, anything you ask for, but he’ll have to remember to tease you first so he can see that cute expression on your face before he gives in to your whims.

“I’ll make sure you’re nice and ready for my cock, so just be a good girl and follow my lead until then. You can do that for me easily, can’t you?”Another shy nod, another adorable flushed look that makes his cock throb in his trousers.

It was a little intimidating for you, knowing how experienced Minho must be due to his age, and feeling like you must fall short in comparison to other women– women who knew what they were doing. But really, that was just your own insecurity talking. He didn’t mind at all that you were inexperienced; in fact, it excited him for reasons he didn’t entirely understand. 

Maybe it was the knowledge that he was the first to touch your skin, or maybe that someone as determined and fiery as you are is allowing yourself to concede control, to let him be in charge of your pleasure, trusting him to bring you to utmost bliss. What bigger display of trust could you ever show him? Your glassy, pleading eyes, begging him for more but still waiting for it just as he asked– you’re too good for him. He’s going to ruin you. 

He takes his fingers away, and you have to physically stop yourself from whining at the lack of contact, lest he remind you again about “being patient.” “Open your mouth for me,” Minho requests, and though you are a bit confused, you do as he asks immediately, obeying without question.

Fuck, that’s hot; the image of you, mouth open, tongue slightly sticking out and waiting to receive whatever he gives you is something he never wants to forget. Minho slides two of his fingers into your mouth, instructing you to lick, to get his fingers nice and wet.

Truthfully, you were more than lubricated enough to take his fingers without this step, but he couldn’t resist the urge to see you this way. He pushes his fingers in your mouth down to the knuckle, and you persist with coating them in your saliva even as you gag and tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

He showers you with praise, slipping his fingers out of your mouth when he feels satisfied with the work you’ve done on them, kissing your cheeks, feeling the heat of your face on his lips. Slipping his hand back inside your panties, he presses the tips of his wet fingers to your hole, and you instinctively suck in a breath, body unconsciously tensing from the anticipation.

“You have to relax, Princess, it won’t feel good if you’re tense,” he explains sweetly, shaking his head when you mutter a soft apology. “Don’t be sorry, not for that. Just focus on me, hmm? On this,” he whispers, his lips lingering on yours in a deep, impassioned kiss.

His fingers stay completely still until he feels your body start to release its tension, heeding his advice to focus more on his kisses than the motion of his fingers. He keeps kissing you even as the first of his fingers finally starts to push inside you, and you moan into his mouth, hot pleasure licking your skin. 

He moves his finger in and out slowly, making sure you’re well adjusted before he pushes in another one, hooking his fingers to find that delicious sweet spot he knows will have you crying his name in no time. You gasp loudly when he finds it, your hands twisting the sheets beneath you between your fingers, your entire body trembling.

It feels so good you almost can’t breathe, and when he picks up his pace, hitting your spot over and over as he brings his thumb to your clit, you know you won’t last long at all. “M-Minho, I’m– 'm gonna–” you try to warn him, but the words die in your throat, the pleasure too overwhelming to continue to try and form a sentence.

He simply hums, continuing his motions until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, sharp, shuddery gasps and moans tumbling from your lips as your orgasm takes you. “That’s it, just let go, just like that, I’ve got you,” he praises, pressing kisses to your hot skin, helping you ride out your high.

Before you can even fully recollect your breath and get your racing heart back under control, he’s pushing a third finger inside, the trembling in your body intensifying from the addition. “You need more to get ready for me,” he tells you, and in your fucked out state all you can do is nod, taking his word as gospel truth, “need to stretch you good to make sure my cock fits.”

All you can do is lay there and take the onslaught of pleasure, unable to think of about anything other than how full and good his fingers make you feel. You don’t even register that he’s moved your down your body and tugged your panties to the side until his tongue is meeting your clit, swirling around it in expertly practiced circles, making you desperately cry out his name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging harshly as your hips buck up to keep feeling the delicious sensation his tongue provides you. He flattens his tongue and lets you grind against it as you want, the motions of his fingers not stuttering or ceasing despite the movement of your hips. 

You feel the familiar heat pooling your stomach, another orgasm approaching quickly, the sounds you release turning into desperate whines and whimpers as you chase the feeling. It only takes a few more rolls of your hips and thrusts of his fingers to have you releasing all over his face and gushing around his fingers.

He sits up and pulls his fingers out when your body falls limp, chest heaving and ears ringing as you try to recover from the mind-blowing experience you just had. Your eyes are closed, and you can feel his weight shift, can hear the soft clink of his belt unbuckling, followed by the rustling of clothes.

You open your eyes to see Minho’s cock is now out, his hand lazily pumping it and spreading the pre-cum that accumulated and dripped over his time focusing on you. You reach a hand out to touch it, to replace his hand with your own, but he grabs your hand before you can, instead making you intertwine your fingers. 

“Tonight’s all about you, Princess. Don’t worry about taking care of me,” he says, kissing the back of your hand and then holding it down right above your head. You’re not quite pinned, easily able to snake your hand out of his hold if you wanted to, but you have to admit, you like the feeling of his hand keeping yours held down.

He rubs his cock between your folds before he lines himself up with your entrance, though you didn’t miss the subtle smirk on his face when you whined from the feeling of his tip rubbing against your clit. “Squeeze my hand if you need to,” Minho tells you before taking your free hand and bringing it up to his shoulder, “and hold onto me.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest; the hidden romantic in you yearns to tell him you love him, to thank him for taking such good care of you, to express how you never want this night to end, but you know that would be a mistake. Neither of you can afford to let your emotions spill out, so you swallow them down the best you can, deciding to just live in this moment, to experience it for all that it is and all that it means for you.

The initial push is slow, and thanks to his diligent preparation, there is little physical pain or discomfort you experience from the stretch of his cock. A slight sting, sure, but nothing you can’t easily handle, and it’s barely even recognizable when compared to the pleasant fullness you feel. So when you squeeze his hand, and your eyes well with tears, it’s not because you are pained; it’s because you finally have something you want, a happiness you thought would forever elude you.

He takes his free hand and wipes away the tears from your eyes, a soft look of concern on his face. “Hurts?” he asks, but you shake your head quickly.

“Feels good, I just– I..” you struggle with the words, knowing you can’t express how you actually feel about him even if you felt you could. “I know. You don’t have to say it, I know,” Minho speaks to you softly, and the kiss he gives you very nearly makes you sob.

There’s still a few inches left before he’s fully inside you, and he pushes the remainder in slowly as he continues to kiss you, his free hand now rubbing soothing circles on your hip with his thumb. Minho does well at maintaining composure, staying firmly in control of himself and his body despite the way your walls squeeze and suck him in, despite the way you whimper when you feel him throb, or cry out against his lips when his tip kisses your deepest spots.

“That’s a good girl, taking all I give you, doing so well,” he praises you some more, and you love when he tells you how good you’re doing if the way you clench around him is any indicator. “Fuck, Princess–” he groans when he finally starts to move, pulling out and pressing back in much more slowly than he normally would, but the wet friction you provide him is delicious.

“Minho, I–” you start, interrupted by a sharp gasp when he finds your sweet spot with his cock.He looks at you as he stills his hips, patiently waiting for you to continue in case what you have to say is important, or a request for him to stop.

You swallow, face heating up but determined to get out what you want to say. “J-Just this once, I don’t want to be the princess. Call me by name, please–” Oh, that’s what you want? He can do that, easily; he’s already groaned your name countless times in the privacy of his room, stroking his cock to the thought of you.

The sound of your name falling from his lips as he resumes the thrust of his hips has you clenching hard, stars erupting in your vision as he picks up his pace, beginning to quickly and mercilessly hit your spot, over and over again. He takes one of your legs and props it up over his shoulder, allowing more of his cock to fill you up, the creaking of the bed and the sound of skin slapping beginning to overpower the noise from downstairs.

Taking his other hand away from yours, you’ll have to forgive him, he licks his fingers and then brings them to your clit, wanting nothing more than to see and feel you release on his cock. It only takes a few more thrusts and circles from his fingers to have you crying out his name as you cum, fingers digging into the sheets beneath you as your body shakes and legs tremble.

But Minho hasn’t cum yet, so he’s not quite done with you– not that you mind in the slightest. You’ll let him chase his pleasure as long as he wishes, even if it leaves you a drooling, fucked out mess in the end.

He pulls out of you, just long enough to sit against the headboard, and then he’s pulling you on top of him, guiding you to sink back down on his cock and sit fully in his lap. The new position has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head, Minho guiding the movement of your hips with his hands as he thrusts up into you.

He’s quite literally doing all the work, but that’s perfectly fine; this night is supposed to be about you, after all, and he doesn’t want you to lift a pretty little finger. Just let him use you a little until he cums, that’s all he needs.

You’re panting against his neck, head laid on his shoulder and nails digging into the skin of his back beneath his shoulder blades. The sting of your nails in his skin is just how he imagined it to be, and his head is falling back against the headboard, low grunts and groans of your name leaving freely as his cock throbs and twitches, getting closer and closer to his release.

He uses one of his hands to grab your face and lift it up to his, crashing his lips to yours in a desperate, impassioned display of love and lust. A few more snaps of his hips and you feel his cum spurting inside you in long, thick ropes, the sensation sending you forward into yet another orgasm of your own, your desperate sounds muffled only by Minho’s mouth on yours.

Your body collapses against his when the moment slows to a stop, both of your chests heaving and breaths heavy as you lie against him. His arms wrap around you snuggly, and keep you upright against his chest. You can hear the quick, erratic beating of his heart as he catches his breath, looking up at him to see his eyes closed and sweat trailing down his brow towards his cheek.

He looks beautiful like this, you think; you hope he thought the same of you. Even as his cock starts to soften, neither of you move, and though your legs protest and beg to be stretched out, you refuse to leave your spot on Minho’s lap.

“Are you alright, Princess?” he asks once he’s collected himself, pushing your hair from your face and wiping the sweat from your brow.

“Mhm, just want to stay like this,” you reply, and Minho smiles softly, rubbing over your shoulders and down your back in a sweet gesture of comfort. You’re silent like this for some time, just simply enjoying the feeling of him, the sound of the crackling fire, the warmth he and this room provides you.

“Does my happiness really have to end here?” you can’t help but quietly ask, and Minho is quiet for a moment, carefully considering before he speaks.

In a different world, in a different time, in a different place, maybe the two of you are meant to be. There’s comfort in imagining yourself there, truly happy with Minho, letting him care for you while not snuffing out the flame that is your pride, ambition, and spirit.

It’s not meant to be, you both know that to be true. To be with each other required great risk, sacrifice, hardship. But again he has to wonder, is being safe worth the cost of happiness? Would you even truly be “alive” if your every moment was spent miserably?

He doesn’t want to see the very core of what makes you you be snuffed out by selfish, idiotic men and their expectations of what you should be. You’re much younger than him, and it would be impossible for him to be there for you for the rest of your life, but he can be for the rest of his, at least.

“Maybe not,” he answers, unsure of what the future holds for the two of you, but not entirely ready to give up so easily. He could accept his fate, accept that love is something out of his reach, but it’s your happiness on the line that makes him want to fight for it. 

There’s a lot he could lose by helping you escape this life you feel trapped in, but he’d rather see you happy than wasting your days away in the castle, subservient to a man you loathe. Your love isn’t meant to be, but that’s okay; he’ll help you all the same.

He’s loyal to you, and only you, he’s decided– so if you make your future husband, your father, or even the entire kingdom your enemy, then they’ll be his enemy too. And it’ll all be worth it just to see you smile for a little bit longer.

[claymoresword]

The Realm's Delight

Rhaenyra Targaryen x Velaryon Fem!Reader

Summary: The entire realm of suitors tripping over themselves to take Rhaenyra to wife and yet the only person she has eyes for is you.

Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader

Wordcount: 1k

Warnings: smut, nsfw, top!rhaenyra

Note: first and foremost reader and rhaenyra are cousins clearly so if that bothers u maybe skip this one :/

been putting off writing rhaenyra for so long bc her characterisation is a little intimidating to me but i got over that fear finally (i think)

anyway i hope u enjoy this silly little thing and let me know what u think!

(sorry for the inaccurate high valyrian i dont speak the language)

You let out a yawn, the sheer banality of this morning's affair was shocking to you.

At Rhaenyra's request you were sat by her side as she listened to petitions from various Lords from all over the realm offering her their hand in marriage.

You scowl at the man before you, he had been going on about the state of his castle. Nothing of interest to you and certainly not to the Princess. If this was his idea of wooing a lady only the gods knew how he would be like as a husband.

"Bisa vala iksis uēpkta than aōha kepa."

(This man is older than your father.)

Rhaenyra's face contorts in amusement at your remark before looking down at her hands, fiddling with her rings out of disinterest.

"Tell me, lord Dondarrion did you think my great grandmother was as beautiful as they say?"

The Princess interupts the man mid sentence and you shake your head in disapproval.

Rhaenyra..

"This was half a century ago Princess" Lord Dondarrion responds, perplexed.

"Yes it was."

The entire court erupts with laughter, you stiffle a grin yourself.

The older man sulks before walking away, being last to catch on the Princess making a mockery of him.

"Bona iksin unseemly, dārilaros."

(That was unseemly, princess.)

Rhaenyra glances at you with a sly smirk before rolling her eyes.

"Issa unseemly syt zirȳla naejot jiōragon nyke zȳhon ondos."

(It is unseemly for him to offer me his hand.)

Boremund glares at the two of you. You throw him an innocent smile, very well knowing he has no notion of what is being said between you.

"Next!" He exclaims.

You were itching for these proceedings to conclude.

A young boy, he must have been no older than 10 and 2. You recognised his sigil, house Blackwood.

You fail to suppress your amusement paired with disbelief, an involuntarily laugh escapes your lips.

Rhaenyra mirrors your baffled expression.

"And now a boy." The Princess says with an exasperated tone.

"The Blackwoods are an ancient house with a formidable army. In the riverlands they once ruled as Kings." Lord Boremund states.

Rhaenyra nods, she decides to give the poor boy a chance.

He goes on and recites a rather well rehearsed speech. Voice trembling but otherwise full of conviction.

A rictus, albeit kind smile painted on Rhaenyra's face.

She is not convinced.

"If chosen as your match Princess, your days shall be easy and night's safe under my protection."

The boy says and you purse your lips, trying not to laugh aloud once again.

"Protection? The Princess has a dragon you dumb cunt."

One of Rhaenyra's many suitors exclaims from the crowd and the boy unsheathes his sword, summoning a challenge.

You roll your eyes. Whether it be a man grown or a little boy, they are all the same.

"We're leaving." Rhaenyra stands, swiftly grabbing your hand. Taking your leave by her side and matching her strut.

"Ser Criston, send word to the harbor and have Captain Oswin ready the ship for you."

"Lady y/n and I will leave on Dragonback. We will see you back at King's Landing."

Criston glances at you in confusion and you only give him a shrug.

"Princess, we're due in Bitterbridge in 3 days time."

Rhaenyra stops in her tracks, You, Criston and his men followed suit. The Princess glares at the Knight and he opposes for a moment before relenting.

"Very well, Princess."

--

Rhaenyra grabs your arm again forcing you to pick up the pace. You eventually find yourselves alone in a dimly lit hallway far from the commotion in the other room.

"Nyra–" You yelp, as she expertly pushes you up against a wall her hand resting against it.

She leans in capturing your lips into a searing kiss. You melt at the feeling of her mouth against yours, simply aching for her.

Rhaenyra's hands find your waist as she disconnects your lips. You nearly shiver under her intense stare. She watches your chest heave as you attempted to catch your breath. You notice her breathing just as heavily.

"I have been dying to do that all morning."

She kisses you again, this time your hand finds the back of her neck pulling her impossibly closer.

"Istin emagon ao sir."

(I must have you now)

Rhaenyra shifts her attention to your neck, placing wet kisses against it. You don't suppress the shiver this time and immediately feel her grin form against your neck.

"Ēdā nyke mōrī bantis."

(You had me last night.)

You tease, hand moving to rest on her shoulder.

"One night is not enough" She whispers before taking your bottom lip in between her teeth tugging at it. She kisses you again.

"With you it is never enough."

Your mouth opens wider and her tongue comes into contact with yours. A moan spills out of you directly into her mouth and Rhaenyra hums against your lips.

A rush of arousal shoots directly to your core. Rhaenyra would have her way with you infront of the entire court if she could.

Gods, you wish she would.

Rhaenyra lifts up your thigh and runs her hand under your dress resting it on your ass. You wrap your leg around her waist reflexively giving her easier access. A glimmer in her eyes as she takes the opportunity to slip her hand underneath your smallclothes, she could feel how wet you were as she swipes a finger through your folds.

"Rhaenyra, what if someone sees us?" You whimper as you fight the urge to grind your wanting core against her hand.

She leans forward, placing another kiss on your neck before sinking her teeth into it earning a desperate moan from you.

"I really don't care." She whispers and you feel your legs grow weaker.

Rhaenyra presses her palm against your center and you feel yourself move against her hand wantonly. She dips a finger into your entrance and you let out another moan.

"Ah– Rhaenyra, wait please."

You wanted to kick yourself for stopping her but you couldn't risk getting caught, not here.

Rhaenyra sighs before removing her hand from underneath your dress completely and you stand up on both feet. Your hands don't leave her shoulders however, needing the support.

"Issa daor litse."

(It is not fair)

You breathe out, after a moment's silence.

"Hm?"

"Lo nyke sia vala nyke could gūrogon ao naejot Zaldrīzesdōron se mazverdagon ao ñuha ābrazȳrys."

(If I were a man I could take you to Dragonstone and make you my wife.)

"Nobody would question it."

You suddenly feel tears well up in your eyes. Rhaenyra notices and places a tender kiss on your forehead. You quickly wrap your arms around her.

The both of you stay like that for a beat.

"Then take me to Dragonstone." Rhaenyra simply states.

You scoff.

"Do not mock me, Princess."

Rhaenyra lets out a chuckle before stepping away from you, intertwining your fingers.

"No, it isn't fair."

She lifts your intertwined hands to her lips and plants a kiss on the back of your palm.

She guides you down the hallway and the two of you resume your walk.

"Ivestragī's jikagon lenton."

(Let's go home)

[atopvisenyashill]

i get to a certain extent when people push back at some anti targ stuff with “that’s a feudal system that’s how every house works” the problem here is that the incest and the dragons makes it worse.

i think you can draw a lot of parallels between baelon & ned and the way they fail their younger sisters, but crucially, lyanna does not show up in ned’s bed naked when asking for help the way viserra does. there’s a level of horror there that is much more severe when it comes to “women being nothing but wombs” when you are acting as a womb for your brother and when the only way you know how to ask for help is by attempting to seduce your older brother, instead of simply asking. yes plenty of husbands feel entitled to their wive’s loyalties, bodies, and wombs and plenty of old dudes marry much younger women but i Do in fact think there is something much more sinister about lysa realizing she’s been done wrong by hoster & jon and raging against them while miserably trapped in marriage and daemon spending literal decades grooming his infant niece into believing she will only be safe from harm if she turns from all others and relies solely on him for protection.

yes, stannis and renly react with extreme violence when faced with insecurity over being the younger brother in someone else’s shadow and stannis does a fair amount of damage to king’s landing…and yet what he does pales in comparison to aemond’s campaign of mass slaughter in the riverlands atop vhagar. yes, robb makes his grief over losing ned the problem of every lowborn person in the riverlands but aegon & visenya committ what i would argue is an indiscriminate and genocidal campaign of destruction (think ancient civilization genocides like rome against carthage) during the dragon’s wroth over their grief from losing rhaenys.

like, i keep seeing this “the only difference between the rest of the houses is the dragons and incest” but those are huge differences that impact the way their family works on a fundamental level. i think there is a level of horror to naerys desperately begging for a normal relationship with aegon only for him to continue raping children into her until she dies that is not present in similar marriages on the basis of “this is her fucking brother.” the entire system is feudal but the way the feudal system works in this specific family, because of their dragons and incest, brings the entire system to this natural, horrific endpoint and that’s the entire point of this whole family!

[songmingisthighs]

Pitiful, You're Pitiful

fic m.list | next >>

ch. i

group : ateez

pairing : aged up!wooyoung × aged up!reader

genre : angst, mature, smut

word count : 2.9 k

warning : adultery, cheating, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of loss, negative depiction of wooyoung

a/n : happy new year !!

From your own experience, life is hard. Especially marriages.

Growing up, your mother and grandmother told you to beware of men, of their lips especially be it their kisses or their words. You never quite understood why until you found out what kind of a man your grandfather actually was. Sure, he died surrounded by the people who loves him but as it turns out, those were the people who had decided to forgive him for cheating on his wife.

After learning that, you began finding faults in your family, anything that could make sense as to why your grandpa cheated in the first place. Was it his kids? Was it really his wife? Was it just the fact that he had no self-control? Maybe it was a little bit of everything accumulating until it became too much. So you decide that when you find the man you want to marry and finally settle down, you'll do whatever you can to keep your husband happy and safe. Of course, when you met your husband Wooyoung, you told him about your fear of marriage, and what it can do to people and their relationship. Coming from a good family, Wooyoung couldn't quite understand your worries but nevertheless, he assured you that you didn't have to do anything to make him happy, you just had to be yourself.

You both married young, as soon as you graduated university. You were 21 and in love and didn't want to waste anymore time apart. He was starting his career as a professional dancer and you wanted a chance to travel with him as you worked remotely at a PR firm. But of course, when you got pregnant you stopped travelling with him as stability is better for babies and it sucked for you because Wooyoung's career had just taken off with him getting booked for gigs all over the country and even landing himself a year contract to tour with an idol. Your last semblance of personal life died the moment you gave birth to your first child as you weren't able to juggle the stress of being a PR and a young mother with your husband absent for most of the time. Even with your and his mom's help, things were still hard and maybe it was because he wasn't there and your anxiety got the best of you. But each time he came home, so excited and so in love with you and your child, your anxiety dissipates and it was then that you realized that your marriage wasn't like the failed ones you had heard. Wooyoung was away most of the time but he was still head over heels for you. So that reassured you, that was how you know you had found the perfect, committed husband.

Now, however, 16 years later, things seemed to change.

"Mom?"

You jolted slightly and turned from looking out the window to see your 14-year-old daughter standing in the middle of the staircase. "Dayoung," you called out, clearing your throat as you put the glass of wine on the coffee table next to you, "What are you doing up, sweetie?" You asked as you offered her a smile. Even through the darkness of the living room, you could see her eyes flit from your face to the wine glass and back up to your face again, "What are YOU doing up?" She asked, crossing her arms. You weren't surprised at her curt words, she had always been rather... snippy with you ever since she became a teenager.

It was no surprise that when you gave birth to her, Wooyoung doted on her a lot. After all, she was your first born and she just looked so much like Wooyoung which was his proudest accomplishment. Until your second child was born, that is, which was double his proudest accomplishment. Different from her little brother who is just 5 years old, Dayoung grew up without Wooyoung around much. But whenever he was in town, the two were inseparable, they're each other's partners in crime and Dayoung loved the fact that she always had fun with her dad. You, however, were the disciplinarian, a role you were forced to take because a child can't have two fun parents and what were you supposed to do when Dayoung refused to take a bath after deciding to play in the mud outside? What were you supposed to do when she refused to eat her vegetables? To her, you were the bad guy, the villain, the party pooper, the wet blanket. And you made peace with that, you made peace with your own child vilifying you so bad that she told her 5-year-old brother to be careful with you because you're not going to let him have fun. You let her believe whatever she wants because she grew up to be a very smart girl who is independent, assertive, opinionated, and brave. Sure, she used her qualities against you, but you liked to think that it just meant that she was comfortable enough with you to be like that.

"I'm..." your words trailed slightly when you saw a car nearing your house only for it to drive past, making you let out a sigh of disappointment, "Waiting for your dad," you turned back to her and shrugged, "Now you." Dayoung rolled her eyes and walked to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. It pained you that she was being rather disrespectful, but you weren't about to make an issue of that at 2 am. She even made a show of making eye contact with you as she swallowed the cold water before obnoxiously tossing her used glass to the sink. "Woohyun wanted to pee but you weren't there for him which is not a surprise," she smiled sarcastically before stomping her way back up to her room.

You absolutely love the kid but sometimes you do wonder why she seems to love to torture you with her attitude. To distract yourself, you downed the last bit of wine in your glass before approaching the sink to wash the glasses you and Dayoung used. It had become a habit, cleaning, a way to take control over things you can't really control no matter how much you want things to be in order. You hate being so helpless, wanting to have a good life but not knowing how to achieve it without being perceived as naive, juvenile, or even selfish.

The task had taken over your mind so much that you didn't notice the sound of the front door opening and closing. When you looked up, your heart skipped a beat from what you saw. There he stood, your husband with a bright smile on his face, looking so lovable with his hoodie and sweatpants, making his boyish charm shine even more even through the darkness of the room.

"Hey there, wifey, what are you doing so late? Did you miss me?" he chuckled, making a show of posing at the entrance of the kitchen, making you giggle and shake your head. "Yeah, sure, I miss your stinky self so bad that I stay up hours after putting Dayoung down to sleep," you teased, drying your hands on the towel tied on one of the drawers' handles. Wooyoung faked a gasp and lunged at you, making you squeal and take off to the other side in hopes that you could avoid his grasp. Despite it being so late in the night, you both still ran around the kitchen happily trying to shush one another half-heartedly. Even when Wooyoung managed to grab you and pulled you down on the couch, you couldn't stop giggling out of sheer happiness. You just loved him so much and being in his arms was the best thing you've ever felt.

"..ey? Hey, (y/n)!"

You jolted slightly and blinked twice, trying to make sense of what you were seeing. In front of you, your husband stood by the kitchen doorway like you saw moments before. But he wasn't wearing his hoodie and sweatpants nor did his youthful smile there. He was aged up and wearing attire fit for a young businessman. You remembered that you had put the outfit out for him earlier in the morning; a black knitted sweater with a navy blazer and matching pants. He had asked for you to pick the outfit for him because he was supposed to meet up with investors who want to open another branch of his dance academy in another city.

"Why are you spacing out like that?" Wooyoung asked, raising an eyebrow at you. Though he was asking about you, his voice lacked genuine concern or sympathy. It was almost as if he was only asking as a formality. You push those thoughts to the side however and smiled up at him, "It's nothing, honey, I-" Before you could even finish your sentence, Wooyoung's gaze averted back to his phone as he let out a sound that was supposed to simply acknowledge your answer so that he could simply walk away. He had done it multiple times before and lately more frequently, but the sight of his back on you never got easier to see. It hurts because it felt like he was trying to push you away, not letting you get too close to either share yourself with him or even ask him to share himself with you. You wondered what happened to the both of you. It had been a while since he was like this and you have no idea how to fix it.

But still, you weren't the type to just give up. There is no way in hell would you just throw your hands up carelessly and leave things in the hands of fate. Screw that.

Knowing Wooyoung, he would spend his first moments back sitting on the edge of the bed, still in his dirty outfit, answering people he couldn't answer before because he was driving. You took this as a chance for you to get close to your husband, and spend all the time you can spend together because, during the day, he would be busy with work, running an academy with his partners and shouldering the responsibilities of being the sole breadwinner and father which he absolutely loves. On the other hand, you were busy being a stay-at-home mom. Taking the kids to school, making sure they have their lunches, running errands, paying bills, being active in the PTA as how the private school expect mothers to do, making sure Dayoung go to her hakwon by using public transportation while you take Woohyun to his after school activities on the other side, and sometimes you even help Wooyoung's mom around. You barely had time for yourself or your husband and you truly felt bad for it.

You closed the door to your shared bedroom, not surprised that your husband barely reacted but you let it go, you didn't want to focus on that. "So..." You started, going to your side of the bed to turn the lamp off before sitting down, "I saw my friend Eunyoung today, it was the first time since she had her second child. We went to the salon because her mother finally convinced her to leave the child with her and it actually took Eunyoung an hour to finally leave her house." Wooyoung let out a hum of acknowledgement while his eyes were still glued onto his screen, and a smirk played on his face. For some reason, that smirk made you feel uneasy but you swallowed the feeling down, you were on a mission and you were not about to back down just because your gut decided that something was wrong. "I-it got me thinking," whilst unsuspecting, you crawled on the bed towards your husband before you rest your head on his back as your arms wrapped around his waist, making him freeze in surprise, "I... Want to try for a third again," you confessed. Whatever you expect his reaction to be, a scoff and a shove to your arms were not on the list. "Are you crazy?" He stood up before turning to look at you, "You've had your hands full with Dayoung and Woohyun, why would you want more? I thought we agreed after the last time that two were enough?" He was talking to you as if you were careless or crazy and it made your gut twist. The form of your shoulders visibly dropped in disappointment as you look up at him, "That was almost a year ago, honey, I'm fine now," you ensured.

It had been almost a year since you lost your third child. You never even got to know the gender of the baby. You never even got to know how you lost the baby because not even the doctors know. The both of you went into the doctor's office one day, happy and hopeful and when you came out, you were followed by the echoing voice that there was no heartbeat and that it could happen for no reason. You were such a wreck after that, you shut yourself from everyone and Wooyoung had to jump in and take care of you and your kids whilst also dealing with his grief. After all, it was his idea that you reluctantly agreed to. But when you finally overcame your depression over the loss, you had hoped to see that your husband would be glad for you but instead, he drifted further until you got to this point.

Wooyoung was still simply staring at you in disbelief and you think he realized that something was wrong with you, you had something going on in your mind. No matter the situation, one thing that never changed from Wooyoung was how easily he can read you. "I know... You wanted to have another child, Wooyoung, I do and I think you still have not let go of the one we lost and that's why you've been pulling away from me this past year and I'm so done with that, really," You felt your cheeks burn to your eyes and tears well up to the point of almost spilling, but you willed yourself not to. Hearing this, Wooyoung's eyebrows furrowed and his arms folded in front of his chest, "But I have, (y/n), I... Accepted that we lost that one a long time ago and there is no way we can bring that one back." "So then I don't know what's wrong with us! After almost 20 years being together, 16 of which we spent in a marriage, I don't think something can just snap and everything turns to shit. For fuck's sake, Wooyoung we haven't had sex since then! We used to not be able to have our hands off each other and now it's like we don't have passion for each other anymore. So you make the choice here, Wooyoung, either we try for a third and hope that this baby will bring us the joy we seem to have lost in the past year or you and I go through marriage counselling."

The words barely left your lips when Wooyoung shoved you hard enough that you fell onto the bed, bouncing slightly as your back collided with the soft mattress yet you somehow felt hurt. He quickly climbed on top of you and kissed you whilst taking his blazer off of him. "You want a baby? You're gonna get one," he muttered against your lips. After almost a year of not being intimate with each other, you expected the kiss to be passionate and homecoming, not cold and distant. There was no passion in his kiss, it was just... There. The action seemed more like an attempt to shut you up rather than a proclamation of his love. The hands that used to caress every inch of your skin now yanking and tearing at your clothes with no care, he didn't even bother to completely undress you and you could assume that his movements were simply muscle memory. What you did at that moment was not making love, that was simply having sex. Fucking.

Wooyoung was usually very attuned to your body and its needs, each tick and squirm was interpreted correctly in his head and he was able to calculate what to do next to ensure both of your pleasure. Each session of intimacy was always categorized as lovemaking because that was what it was, an expression of unadulterated, raw intimate love. But this? He didn't even realize that he was basically fucking a corpse. At least, that's what you felt like. Lips on your skin, your husband's warmth encasing you, touch lingering, yet you felt nothing short of coldness. Touches that used to be feather-like and careful seem more like restraint now, harsh and emotionless.

Even after you two were done- well, after he was done, you couldn't move. Your husband left you lying on your bed all alone, the remnants of his release staining your thighs and dried once the excess leaked out of you, body sprawled and unmoving while your gaze fixated on the only source of light, the crack from under the bathroom door where Wooyoung was cleaning himself.

Slowly, your eyes closed from exhaustion, both mental and physical. Despite that, your brain wouldn't let you rest, it forced you to fixate on one thing and one thing only:

Your husband, the man whose affection and love is so exceedingly plenty that it just burst out of his body has no more left of them for you which can only confirm one thing.

He was seeing someone else.

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[misguidedasgardian]

The Winter Sun (22)

22. Rains of Fire

MASTERLIST

Summary: Your personal sacrifice is not enough to Aemond’s thirst 

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader, one sided Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen Reader

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoiaf customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), arranged marriage, incest, hinted non-con, involuntary imprisonment, non con adultery, kidnapping, a little choking, body shaming (Aemond is a c*nt, I imply Reader had chubbier hips from giving birth), death of characters, war and all that comes with it, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.1 k

Notes: Ufff this was hard to write. I know I have to update Dragons' mistress and the White Dragon, but I had to write this first, I was just taped to the computer writting this

Cregan hand’s shaked as he read the urgent words of his sister, his eyes filled with tears as he whined, like a wounded animal 

His fist landed on the table on his tent.

He so childishly thought he could protect you, but not even an army of a thousand men could get between a dragon and his desire. He was marching to fight a war, and yet, it wasn’t enough

“How long until we reach Harrenhal?”, he asked his most trusted man, Jon, the second son of Lord Roderik 

“Two weeks Lord”, he whispered shakily

“We need to pick up the pace “, he grunted, “my wife just…”, he looked at him and he straightened his posture, “she tried to take matters into her own hands”

“Is the Lady of Winterfell alright?”, he asked, fearfully, “is the heir…?”

“The heir is fine”, he said shortly, “but the Lady of Winterfell is in enemy hands”, he said shortly, "we need to reach Harrenhal as soon as we are able, and send a raven to Dragonstone for the old gods!”, he said quickly, “we are facing the largest dragon in the world!”

The man that was around his age left the tent in a hurry, and Cregan bit his bottom lip strongly, enduring the need to cry

You had been threatened and flied willingly to the enemy hands

He didn’t know Aemond in his entirety, but… he was a man, a dark man… with dark desires. He didn’t have to be a genius or a wizard to know what that man wanted to do to you

His wife, his beautiful, smart, sweet, loving wife who had fled her own home to marry him, to escape that monster, who trusted him to protect her and care for her and keep her safe.

He had failed

In a rage he threw everything he had atop his desk to the dirty ground

You threw yourself to the jaws of the dragon to spare him, he hasn't been fast enough, powerful enough, to protect you, his own wife.

And he could only pray to see you again

It had to be at night

You had manage to hide a small knife in a gartner around your thigh, but for it to work, Aemond needed to be impossibly close, and impossibly distracted and relaxed for it to work

The mere thought made your stomach turn, but it was the only way, and if it was at night, you had a better chance to escape in the night, with Vhaelar being so close

She was injured but you could hear her sing at nights, missing you, so it was clear she was ready to fly away if needed be. 

You shook in anticipation, he had left to arrange some things, and left you alone to put on a very flamboyant dress and jewelry, like the one he gifted you in Winterfell. You whined, scared out of your mind, but you had to remind yourself that you were doing this for a reason, a good reason, for the survival of your family, your husband, your son, Sara, the North, all of them. 

You were getting claustrophobic in this windowless room, it was beautiful decorated, yes, and the candles lit up the room and their scents prevented you from smelling the burn stone and wood and the moist of something that had never seen the sunlight, but they were there, you knew it, like ghosts

Sometimes in those hours he left you, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

A shaky maid brought you water, wine, bread, cheeses and fruits to calm your needs, and left you without even looking at you. You knew it would be futile to try and talk to her. You knew what Aemond did, killing everyone in the castle, he probably filled it with people loyal to the Greens. 

You were not proud to admit that you drank the full pitch of wine, out of nervousness, and by the time Aemond walked back into the room, you were tipsy, and on your nerves

Aemond didn’t take long to see that

“I’m sorry for leaving you for so long”, he seemed disgustingly pleased with himself, and amused by your tipsiness, “believe me when I say, I wouldn’t have left at all”

“You are here now”, you said, fighting to make it an even voice. He smiled darkly 

“I am”, he took one step towards you, and you couldn’t help but take one step back, making him smile darkly

“You know why you came”, he said

“I know”, you whined, “but Aemond… I need to know…”, he was bored pretty quickly

“Get on the bed”, he commanded, and you whined

“Please”

“I don’t want to force you”, he said simply, clasping his hands together behind his back, “it will be better for the both of us if you surrender yourself to me”, he said simply, with the edge of his mouth turned upwards, in a sick little smile

“Aemond”, you whimpered.

Of course before you kill him, you wanted to see if you could convince him to retreat, but as you could see, there was no going back on his darkness 

“Do it”, he only demanded. By your count, it was already nighttime, so this was it, this was the time to do it.

You walked towards him, turning off your brain and all your thoughts, and you kissed him roughly. He released his own hand and grabbed you almost tenderly, like he couldn’t believe this was happening. But then he kissed you back, taking control, his hands got rough, grabbing your arms, and then your sides, squeezing your flesh

“I‘m enjoying your initiative”, he whispered darkly and your lips left his, but he wasted no time in kissing you again, biting on your lips, making you cry out. When you realized what was about to happen, you needed to fight with yourself to tune yourself off. You needed to be in control if you were really going to go through with your plan.

So you needed to be in control. 

He seemed to sense your urgency, so as he kissed you roughly he led you to the bed.

You fell on top of it hazardously, a mix of limbs and arms, but you were determined. You manage to be on top of him, and your took a sharp breath, the flimsy fabric of your dress already up your thighs 

He looked up at you with wonder in his eye

This was it

And as you accommodated yourself on top of him, you looked down at his face, and he immediately could see that something was wrong, as you couldn’t hide your anger and your hate any longer, you took your hand under the skirt that was already hunched around your thighs, and uncovered the dagger

You were quick, taking both hands and raising the weapon over both your heads, Aemond opened his eye widely, his arms under your knees, he couldn’t do anything. 

His heart was your aim, and as you were lowered the knife into him, he went in so slow you cursed yourself, that is what it felt like, but as you were lowering the knife with was like incredible speed, you were pulled backwards, as sharp nails grabbed you by your hairs and scalp

You whined in pain as you landed on the floor in what seemed to be slow motion, you tried to protect yourself from hitting the stone floor but your arm landed awkwardly, your leg twisted as well. You were not injured, but hurt. Something or someone kicked your hand, the knife flying over the other side of the room, and as you tried to stand, Aemond had done so, and right by your side, was a woman with long dark hairs, sharp green eyes and her face twisted in rage

Aemond could not believe what his eye was seeing

“Do you think she would’ve come freely if you hadn't threatened her?”, she asked bitterly, “she came here to kill you”

“Fuck you!”, you screamed, your nerves in the edge of your skin, you had failed, fatally 

Aemond looked at the scene developing in front of him, his witch, Alys Rivers, the woman he had taken to bed to assert dominance, he could have never imagined she was the owner of a dark power, and then, the woman he truly wanted, on the floor crying in anger, married someone else and had his child, having tried to kill him after she pretended to wanted to be with him. 

Even though Alys knew what his aim was -you-, she even helped him to get to you, and yet, she, as any person would be, was jealous of you, she believed she was the one Aemond should be with, should want, she could give him a child, she could give him everything you could, and more, she could give him dark powers.

Aemond soon was angry, he had lost control of the situation, he had let himself be blinded by you. 

“It’s me who you should be with”, she said bitterly, looking at you still on the floor, pitifully, “it is me who had been faithfully by your side all these months, and it is me who can give you everything you want”

“Get out”, he said bluntly, taking Alys by surprise

“What?”, she snapped, still not impressed

“Get out”, he was fuming, Alys contained her anger, walking away from the room, closing the door with a surprising strength

“Aemond”, you called, scared of what you were seeing, he was very angry, enraged. He grabbed you by the neck, not squeezing but still you couldn’t breathe, he threw you on the bed and as you recuperated, he went to the door, opening it and barked orders to a soldier on the hallway that you couldn’t hear, and the he turned towards you, grabbing his own dagger from his belt

“Please!”, he threw himself on you, straddling your middle, making it hard for you to breathe but he immobilized you. “Please!”

“You are just a tricky little whore!”, he shouted, you had never seen it this angry, he was usually so contained within himself 

“Aemond please don’t do this, please!”, he sliced the top of your dress and then he ripped it off with your own hands, at once you were completely naked underneath him, and then a shaky soldier entered the room, in his hands there was two thin, short chains

“No”, you whined with tears in your eyes, “NO!”, Aemond trapped one of your wrists no matter how hard you fought him, he was stronger than you in aspect, quicker, smarter…

He closed the other ends around the wooden frame of the bed. 

And one you were immobilized in one arm, he went for the other , and he chained you to the bed like you were an animal

The guard left without even looking at you, but you could tell he looked troubled, but there was no time for you to concern yourself with such things, Aemond was looking down at you with a hunger in his eyes that scared you

“You are certainly looser that the last time I saw you”, he mocked, grabbing your chubby hips, you whined, motherhood certainly had taken a toll on you

“Fuck you”, you spit out

“But no matter”, he whispered, “it is still you”

“Please Aemond, it is not too late!”, you begged, “please don’t do this”

“Why can’t you see?”, he growled, “you had been mine all along, it was a mistake on my part to make you believe you had a choice”, you cried underneath him, once he realized you were tied up nicely and tightly, he separated himself from you to undo his breeches, he didn’t even undressed fully, he didn’t even get his clothes off

“Like I said, you are already married, so for now, you are my whore”, he growled, “But I will not forget what you tried to do, you tried to kill me, and your husband will pay the consequences”

“NO!”, you cried, twisting and turning underneath him, crying bitterly, “you promised”

“You have to understand, that my promise is no longer valid after you tried to stab me in the heart”

“You have no heart”, you cried, “please don’t do this”

“I could have been nice, and gentle”, he growled, “but you are more dragon than lamb, are you not?”, he teased, he released his cock, and you whimpered at the sight 

“You are going to give me real children”, he whispered darkly, “dragon princes”, you only shook your head, but you had to look away as he pushed your legs open and placed himself between them

You couldn’t even look at him as you let him take you.

They weren’t advancing fast enough

Cregan thought bitterly, two weeks had passed since he receive the dark news from Winterfell, he knew Aemond had you in his power and he knew what he was capable off

They had already passed the Crossroads Inn and he knew it was a matter of a few kilometers until they could see the burn and cursed towers of Harrenhal

His army was great, he had met men in all the Northerner cities he went through on his journey South, he had a power of ten thousand men 

He would siege the Castle, he knows it will take the lives of many men as Harrenhal was huge and completely defendable once you could take it, but if he could convince the Kinslayer to come and face him face to face, relying on his hate for him, he could take him in a hand to hand combat

But his plans were… mercilessly destroyed

They came at first light, storming his camp, an army of Baratheons and soldiers from the Royal army as well

The surprise factor did take them by surprise but only for a moment, as they retaliated fiercely, they were the winter wolves, the wildest army Westeros has ever seen.

The battle was brutal, mounted soldiers galloping through the tents and breaking havoc, hard tall men throwing them off their horses with axes of war hammers

Cregan, fueled by rage, cut enemy soldiers in half with the strength and power of Ice, his Valyrian sword, screaming in a rage, seeing red everywhere, the battle was soon pretty even, even though the wolves were being attacked by double the numbers

But Cregan had no space on his mind but for one thing

“KINSLAYER!”, he called, freezing everyone around him, and for his luck, or curse, Aemond answered the call, appearing through the soldiers and smoke, and destruction

“Stark”, he called back, soon they were in the middle of a circle, surrounded by men that had stopped the slaughter just to witness something that was going to be written in the storybooks 

“Where is my wife?”, he asked, on guard, with his sword between his hands

“My whore is in Harrenhal, waiting for me in my bed”, he wanted to jump him, cut off his head, but he had to be smarter, he had to beat him. 

“Release her, and I will march away”, he said firmly, Aemond only chuckled, his own sword on his hand, ready for the kill

“I will carve your heart out and present it to her as a wedding present”, he breathed out

“You will have to kill me first”, he threatened, putting himself in a position for attack

“After you are dead, I’m going to fly to that wasteland you call home, I’m going to take your widow in your bed, and I’ll give her my children”

“You are never going to touch her again!”, he growled

“I already did, make her bleed on my cock”, that was not true, but Cregan didn’t care as that was the last straw, with a war cry he threw himself towards Aemond, Ice on hand

The clash was brutal 

Both blinded, one by power and lust, another for love and desperation. It was a fight for the ages, the single strength shown by both in their encounter made the hearts of everybody who was seeing it clench.

The battle around them also continued, each soldier inspired by their leader, soon Cregan and Aemond both got pushed around by the own fights going around them

“But don’t worry, I don’t care about that little brat, I’m going to leave it there”, Aemond teased, “lets see how long it takes your bastard sister to find him in the snow after I take her eyes”

“ARGH!”, Aemond's sword, that was not Valyrian steel, got split in two by the sheer force of Cregan and Ice, Aemond grabbed a shield from the ground, Cregan was stronger than him, but he was way faster and leaner. quicker on his feet, so he managed to dodge every heavy attack, slower by the size of the sword. 

With a growl, and fighting against himself, Aemond retreated, taking advantage of his soldiers around him, Cregan tried to reach him, but his path was cut by Green soldiers 

“FIGHT ME AEMOND!”, he screamed, “CRAVEN!”, but the silver haired man disappeared between his men, walking away from him.

The royal army with the Baratheons surrounded the Northmen, making them so tightly against one another they could barely move

Cregan could barely breathe, as he looked around in desperation, it was a sickening moment, in which for him, all hope was lost. Jon was by his side on a second

“My father is leading half the army to surround them, we are going to be fine!”, he managed to scream, Cregan had to believe him, but the sheer force of the attack was unbelievable, the worst part wasn't even… Cregan gasped loudly, as he watched frantically for the skies. 

They had placed his camp on a valley, that was their first mistake, even though he had placed watchers on any high point around it, they had been clearly slain without anybody knowing, so they were in the worst place possible 

It was moments that felt like hours, as the Northmen fought their way to make room, to recuperate ground, but they were having a hard time doing so, and that is when… all hell broke loose

“DRAGONFIRE!”, screamed another one

“COVER OUR LORD!”

“NO!”, it all happened so fast, Cregan remembered being pushed to the ground, in the reduced space, in the mayhem, in the midst of battle, someone hit him in the head, it could have been a foot, it could have been a shield of the pointless part of a spear, but he lost himself in the roar of battle.

More notes: THIS WAS INTENSE, I couldn't bring myself to write *that* scene, but still you get the picture... Don't hate me please, you know, or at least some of you know, that I'm a sucker for happy endings... hehe this isn't over yet!

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[thedeviltohisangel]

Blurb idea of Cass bringing John a gift back after her overseas trip?

All The Things I Did (Interlude): All I Brought Back With Me

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 INTERLUDE 1 CHAPTER 3

INTERLUDE 2 INTERLUDE 3 interlude 4

a/n: this got a little out of hand. cass and john have a mind of their own. i took the prompt in a bit of an evil direction but am i sorry? you be the judge. interlude ideas still open/come scream thoughts and questions at me. esp curious if you guys think cass should visit more? what does she do when she notices bucky's decline? does seeing her help or hurt? interested in your thoughts. love you all, enjoy !

When she landed at Thorpe Abbotts, her trip to rescue John failed, Colonel Harding was waiting for her on the runway. He looked like her father did when he caught her sneaking back into the house after night swimming with friends back in South Carolina. Hands on his hips and jaw twitching. 

“You look like hell, Lieutenant.” Cass had spent the flight back biting her lip so hard it drew blood in an attempt to keep it from trembling. The tears had fallen silently but she was doing her best to keep them at bay. She couldn’t waste time crying over the current situation. Emotion would distract her from the task at hand. Prevent her from focusing the way she would need to do to break him out of the camp. She wasn’t going to sleep until he was back with her and safe.

“That’s where I came from, Colonel.” Her ribs were hurting with each breath, the bottle of whiskey the pilots had given her not numbing the pain at all. 

“We’ve got to get you in front of an interrogator.” Cass nodded. She knew the drill. Knew they would want to know about the layout of the camp, the susceptibility of the guards, the process of transferring pilots. “For what it’s worth, Cassandra, I’m sorry about Egan. He was one of our best.”

“Is. He is one of the best. He’s at that godforsaken camp and I’m going to get him out.” She grimaced and reached for her side. 

“I think your supervisors at the OSS have an opinion on that. They’re waiting for you inside.” Fuck. Now she was screwed. They had kept out of her business the entire time she was in the field. Had sent her instructions by classified mail or cable and praised all of her reports. For them to show up in person, she must have pissed someone off all the way up the ladder.

“Well, Colonel, I guess this is goodbye.”  Harding removed his aviators and looked at her with sadness behind his eyes. He reached out and tenderly touched the bruise on her cheek before his hand dropped back to his side. “Cassandra-”

“Colonel, you already declared your love for me once. Don’t do it again.” Every professional wall she had built would break. She turned before he could change his mind and take the risk and walked into the building where she was sure her career was going to end. In there was a table with a man in a suit sitting behind it, a thick file open in front of him. All the chairs for her to sit in had been removed and she would’ve taken a deep breath if she thought it wouldn’t have killed her.

“Lieutenant Cassandra Ann Egan. Ink barely dry on the marriage certificate before your husband goes down over Germany and you recklessly insert yourself  behind enemy lines. I might add, also in defiance of orders from your local, cover consistent chain of command, in direct violation of your training. Any comment so far, agent?”

“No, sir.” 

“You’re lucky you were successful in Berlin last month. If you weren’t the only officer to ever accomplish that operational objective, I’d be here to escort you back to the states in handcuffs.” Cass gulped but maintained eye contact as best she could. “Instead, I’m here to promote you.”

“Sir, that doesn’t seem-” She caught the new rank he threw her way as best she could with one hand. 

“Captain, you’re being sent on mandatory R&R back to the states until DC decides where to place you. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. Do I get to choose my location for leave?” 

“I presumed South Carolina-”

“Wisconsin. There’s some people I need to meet.” He looked at her pensively but nodded. 

“Very well. Now, let’s get a doctor in here and start the interrogation, shall we?”

----

When Cass finally made it back to her room, breathing was easier and the moon was illuminating a giant trunk that was now at the foot of her bed. She froze in the doorway. It was John’s. And now it was hers. She kicked her shoes off and padded over to her desk, his large sheepskin resting over the back of the chair. It still smelled like him when she put it on and it shattered her last will to stay strong. She dropped to her knees and wrapped his jacket around herself tighter, the sheepskin catching her tears like she imagined John would himself if he were here.

“You were right, Johnny. We should have never left London.” It had been the happiest two days of her life. It had been normal. Just like she imagined falling in love with a boy might be. They had gone to dinner and danced and danced and danced until her feet hurt. He had kissed her and ran his hands down her body and whispered in her ear how he needed her. They had gone to bed and claimed each other over and over until she forgot where she was and how awful the world around them was. Until she forgot how dangerous it would be to tell him she loved him and said it anyways. Had married him the next morning because neither of them could shake the feeling something bad was going to happen. That they needed to be each other’s fully in this life to guarantee they would find each other in the next.

Cass crawled over to the trunk and opened it shakily. There were the items she was expecting. Books, gum, cigarettes. A photo of his family back home and Yankees baseball cards. There was a pile of letters from home and then at the very bottom, an envelope with her name on it. And then she found another one and another one until there was a stack of letters he had written to her on the floor. 

The first one dated the night she found the nerve to claim him in public. He wrote that he was going to tell her he loved her. That he couldn’t keep it in any longer so he wrote it down. That he knew she would be the one to get his trunk if anything happened to him because he had known she was it for him all along. She held that one close to her chest and felt the words seep into her skin and soothe the ache in her chest. 

The rest of them followed similar themes of John pouring out emotions he was too afraid to say out loud. They all made her giggle because almost immediately after the letter was dated, he had said those words to her in person. He was never good at restraining himself when it came to her. The last one made her heart ache. It was the morning of the last mission, his handwriting rushed and sloppy. He poured out his love for her, how he was fighting for a future with her and hoped at least one of the men who owned the bullets she collected was down there today.

And as soon as I get back, we are going to celebrate our wedding and plan our trips to South Carolina and Wisconsin and practice our baby making. Cass smiled. The version of her that had met John that first night at the social club would have never guessed how broody he was. Now that she knew, it made her tingle. My sun. My moon. My stars. My wife. My precious Spook. I love you, Cass, and am eternally yours. She wiped the tears from her eyes and gently placed the letter back in its envelope. Sitting at her desk, her pen hovering over the blank paper, she looked up at the moon. Whenever her dad spent the nights camped with the farmhands in the field and Cass missed him, her mother would tell her to look at the moon and remember he was looking at the same one. John was looking at the same moon as her tonight. As she whispered her love into the moonlight and wrote the first of the daily letters she had promised him, she hoped the moon did her a favor and carried the message to Germany.

----

She spent the first day or two of her leave building up the courage to knock on the door of the Egan family. Her and John had discussed the eventuality of meeting his family. It felt odd to do it without him but she felt in her heart they deserved to know where he was and how he was doing. Selfishly, it was like getting a piece of him back. 

After knocking on the door, she hoped for a moment it didn’t answer. Maybe this wasn’t going to make her or them feel any better. Maybe it would just break her heart all over again.

And then, the door opened.

----

A few weeks later she was pacing outside that wretched chain link fence. She had managed to make it without any broken ribs this time and she was thankful her contact hadn’t confiscated her canvas bag. In it were hats and gloves for John and Gale and the other men, enough chocolate to hopefully bring them some happiness and some mementos from Wisconsin his mother had sent with her. Cass wasn’t even sure how many of her letters had made it to him yet. If he even knew of the trip she had taken. 

“There’s my beautiful, beautiful girl.” Her smile split her face, surging to meet his lips through a gap in the fence. “I’ve missed you.” Seeing her soothed the ache within him only incrementally. There was still something endlessly aggravating about the fence in between them but John knew he was lucky to even be able to see her like this. Counted her as his chief blessing before he tried to find sleep at night.

“I’ve missed you too but your face looks better than the last time I saw you.” John scoffed.

“Worried I wasn’t handsome enough for you anymore?” 

“Worried you weren’t going to take care of yourself more like it.” 

“Buck’s got me covered.” He pressed as close to her as the fence would allow. “I’ve gotten a few of your letters. Wrote you one back.” She smiled at how sheepish he seemed. Nervous that maybe she hadn’t liked what he had written.

“It hasn’t made its way to me but I’m sure it's lovely if the letters to me in your trunk are any indication.”

“You found those?” he asked while rubbing the back of his neck.

“It was waiting for me when I got back from here the last time. You loved me a lot earlier than you said it, John Egan.”

“Loved you from the moment I saw you.” He smiled, he thinks he only smiled when he read her letters or the one time she had visited, took any opportunity to escape into their solar system that he was allowed. “Your last letter said you got in trouble at work.” 

“Colonel Harding ratted me out for not obeying his orders.” John’s jaw clenched at the mention of the man. The man who had used his rank to take Cass to dinners and dances and promised her the life of a General’s wife if she wanted it. “But you’ll be happy to know after I got my ass thoroughly chewed, I got promoted.”

“Promoted?” 

“You are now the lucky husband to one Captain Cassandra Ann Egan.” He whistled, heart stuttering at the reminder she was his wife, as she did a little twirl and took a bow. 

“Congratulations, Captain. You certainly earned the hell out of it.”

“You’ll have to feign surprise when the letter telling you all of this gets to you.” John watched as her face fell and grew concerned. “You’ll also see some letters from me that are postmarked from Wisconsin.”

“Wisconsin?” Then realization settled on his face. “Cass, did you…did you…” He was struggling to formulate the question.

“Please don’t be upset with me,” she breathed desperately. “When they mandated stateside leave it just slipped out. It was selfish of me. I’m sorry. I should’ve just gone to South Carolina and left it alone.”

“I haven’t been to Manitowoc in years,” he spoke wistfully. Had wanted to go back with her on his arm when all this was over. “My sisters give you a hard time?”

“I brought some fabric from my last trip to Paris to butter them up.” John laughed. Only his Spook would be able to tame his two older sisters. “I spent most of the time promising you were okay. They thought you injured your head when I told them we’d been married, something about you not seeming like the type.”

“Just had to find the right girl.” 

“Your mom misses you. A lot. Wanted me to give you this.” Cass reached into her bag and pulled out a slightly tarnished silver watch with a date engraved on the back. 

“My dad’s watch.” It was hard to swallow around the lump in his throat. “His dad gave it to him on my parents' wedding day. That’s what the date on the back is. Told me when I got married, it would be mine.”

“I can get it cleaned and upgrade the engraving and bring it back if you’d like.” John coughed and shook the fog from his head.

“No. It’s perfect. We’ll get the engraving done together when I’m out of here.” He tucked the watch into his shirt pocket. 

“She also gave me this. Was horrified I wasn’t already wearing it.” Cass handed him a small ring box and he knew it was his grandmother’s engagement ring before he even opened it. “I told her it would be wrong to put it on my own finger. One more thing for us to do when we get you out of here.” 

“Yeah but you best keep it safe while we wait to get the chance.” He removed the cross from around his neck, slipping the small diamond ring onto it and passing through the fence. She took the chain but slid the cross charm off and handed it back to him with a look. “I’d rather use it to protect you.” 

“It’s not up for debate.” He took it and slipped it onto the same chain as his pendant. “Here comes our friend. Catch.” Cass launched the canvas over the side of the fence, John gathering it with ease.

“Thanks, baby. I’m sure all the guys will be very grateful.”

“I’m not sure when I’ll be back. Moscow is my new station.” She had asked for London but was turned down. Told she had earned more of a challenge than London presented. “I have to get the lay of the land and keep my head down for a little bit.”

“I’m sure you’ll win them over in no time, Spook.” She rolled her eyes and reached for a kiss. “I love you, Cass. Now and forever. I promise.”

“I love you, too, Johnny. I’ll see you soon.” Cass stayed until he was walked out of sight, the chain heavy against her chest once he disappeared from her view. 

Soon was never soon enough.

[lumireis]

Fairy Queen Titania, wife of King Gloxinia, originator of Tír na nÓg

Loooong character bio/story summary because I struggle with writing long fics!! I wish I could write a whole story about these two and their relationship but know I wouldn't finish it ;;

Her special ability is Wither, any living thing she touches will decay almost instantly — excluding fairies as their bodies don't rot even in death and she isn't able to turn it off. To compound her destructive nature, Titania isn't capable of any of the nature-nourishing magic that is innate to the Fairy Clan. Because her special ability is similar to an aspect of the Fairy Kings' ability, Disaster, but only the aspect of decay, Titania was surrounded by skeptics.

In her young life she was subtly outcast from the community by her fellow fairies. Titania spent decades of her life lonely and despising the fact that she was failing her duty as a fairy until she met the King of Fairies, Gloxinia. Gloxinia was curious about Titania's abilities as he noticed that even though Wither was destructive in the moment in following decades all flora that grew where Wither was used came up healthier and heartier, though Titania and the other fairies had their doubts.

The two spent years together trying to understand how to get control of Wither, though Titania was holding out hope that he would a way to remove her "curse" permanently. Slowly, the attempts to help her shifted into spending time together simply because they enjoyed each other's company. Gloxinia had it as his personal mission to try and make the sad woman smile with tricks or jokes or games, anything he could to try and lift her spirits.

It was through that closeness that they were able to learn that Gloxinia himself was able to neutralize her decay ability, just by being capable of using Disaster. With Gloxinia, Titania was able to feel safe enough to spend more time with the other fairies and finally experience what living as part of the community was like. Though Titania still felt like an outsider or a guest, rather than a complete part of the Fairy Clan.

Using her magic, Titania created an island for herself called Tír na nÓg, the effort she spent nearly ended up killing her. She only survived thanks to Gloxinia finding her and getting the help of the other fairies to heal her. The creation of Tír na nÓg granted Titania an immortal lifespan as her magic is tied to every living thing on the island. As long as a single blade of grass grows, Titania and any mortal being will live.

Tír na nÓg was the first place that Titania truly safe and comfortable, as she could walk around without worrying about upsetting anyone as she withered the flora around her. Only those who are given permission can set foot on or even find the island. One could search for a thousand years for the Land of the Young and never see its shores. It's Titania's own safe haven. She granted permission to her dear friend Gloxinia and it became a place for the two of them to spend an untold amount of time together, relishing in each other's company.

Eventually, their relationship evolved past companionship into love and eventually marriage. As it was the wedding of the first King of the Fairies, it was a gathering full of friends and love. Even the ever-anxious Titania was more rambunctious and lively, keeping the party alive until well into the next day with singing, dancing, and drink. On her wedding day, Titania truly got to experience being herself, wholly and unapologetically.

On the first night they spent together as a married couple, a nearby flower was made to bloom from the joy Titania felt and once she noticed it she was so overwhelmed at being able to create life for the first time, she cried while holding it. Gloxinia blessed it to never die and tucked it into her hair, his first gift as her husband and her most treasured possession.

However, following the ancient Holy War and the disappearance of Gloxinia as he joined the Demon Clan, Titania's joy came to an end. Without Gloxinia there to tether her to the forest, she retreated to Tír na nÓg permanently. No one within the Fairy Clan knew what happened to her and for thousands of years, until the unsealing of the Coffin of Eternal Darkness and Gloxinia's return.

Wanting to know the fate of his wife, Gloxinia asks Gerheade and the other fairies if anyone has heard anything about Titania as no one seems to mention her. Through them, Gloxinia learns about her vanishing but no one can say for sure what became of her. Taking this as a chance, he asks those at the Boar Hat to keep an ear open for rumors. He confesses that no matter how hard he tries he can't find Tír na nÓg and suspects that becoming a demon severed his connection.

Tír na nÓg might have been her personal paradise but he's sure she would have allowed other misfits like her to find refuge in its eternal paradise. Eventually, a lead turns up and brings them to an old woman with a much darker story to tell than Gloxinia is expecting. The old woman spent time on Tír na nÓg herself as one of the immortal Fair Folk. As a young woman, she was mistreated by the people of her village when one night a beautiful young woman appeared and offered her a place in paradise.

She spent years in Tír na nÓg, living in a place of beauty and bounty when she met a man she would soon fall in love with and wanted to return to the mainland to raise a family. The ruler of Tír na nÓg refused to allow them to leave, viewing the rest of the world as an inescapable hell, and warned them of the severe consequences if they should ask again. So the lovers devised a plan to escape the island that was as much a prison as it was a paradise. Under the cover of night for weeks they built a boat to flee on. When the night to escape came, the forest began to shake and shudder and rot as the full power of the ruler of Tír na nÓg approached them.

The man sacrificed his chance to escape and shoved the boat out, promising to distract the tyrant holding them prisoner and promising to find her. And so the old woman has been waiting for decades now, alone in her home. She laments leaving the love of her life behind, knowing that if he's alive she's aged well beyond her beautiful prime and fears for all the other poor souls that the tyrant has preyed upon. Her sweet voice promising the outcasts of society a home and safety only to chain them like dogs in a beautiful, immortal prison.

The woman's story lives Gloxinia reeling. He can't imagine his dear, sad Titania being capable of that level of cruelty but he also knows just what grief can drive someone to do. What it drove him to do. Gloxinia asks the woman if she knows any way to get back to Tír na nÓg which she confirms, giving him some stones from the shore as anything taken from Tír na nÓg can lead someone back. After expressing his gratitude, he takes the stones and returns to Meliodas to decide what to do next.

The group follows Gloxinia as he heads to Tír na nÓg and is unsettled by the eerie atmosphere and fog that hangs over the island. Screamers attack as they make landfall and quickly hide to avoid the sight of a fairy woman patrolling over the forest canopy. Slowly making their way through the forest, they encounter a village filled with terrified humans who beg them to bring them back to the mainland. The commotion is cut off by a man matching the description the old woman gave of her love, a man named Nico, who explains the reason the island is in the state that it's in.

Titania, the tyrant of Tír na nÓg has been using tricks to bring humans to the island against their will, even going so far as taking children and babies from their parents and replacing them with changelings if they weren't loving them enough in her eyes. Following the escape of one human woman, his beloved, an enchanted fog appeared around the shores, choking anyone who attempted to leave. It seems day by day, Titania falls further into madness. The island has been subject to earthquakes for the past few days as the ruler of Tír na nÓg is punishing them but no one knows for what reason. Gloxinia promises that he can fix this and when questioned, he simply smiles and says it's his duty as a husband to soothe his wife.

Their conversation is interrupted when a woman spots them talking to outsiders, flicking between everyone before calling them traitors and sprinting away into the forest to inform Titania. The man urges them to do whatever they're going to do quickly as they might not survive the day when Titania finds out.

Gloxinia hopes that Titania might come to her senses as soon as they reunite but the constant unending attacks from Screamers, the mysterious fairy, and the forest itself make him question his optimism. And sure enough when face to face with Titania, her eyes tinged with mania, those hopes are dashed. She calls them thieves and begins attacking. Gloxinia tries to calm her but for years Titania was tortured by visions of Gloxinia and believes him to be another one.

During the battle, Elizabeth asks why she's tormenting the villagers. Titania says she doesn't want to do any of it, they just need to give back the thing that they stole from her. It's then that Gloxinia notices the flower that he gifted her isn't in her hair but he can sense his magic nearby. He orders the others to hold her off while he finds it but makes it clear that if they hurt her too badly there would be hell to pay. Ban shoos him off saying they'll do whatever they need to do to make sure she doesn't kill anyone. Gloxinia isn't amused.

It takes some time and he's forced to fight the mystery fairy girl — Oberon, loyal attendant of Titania — but eventually Gloxinia finds the flower in the village. And it's utterly torn to shreds. Gloxinia picks up the damaged petals, looking utterly heartbroken when Nico appears behind him. Gloxinia asks if he was the one that destroyed the flower, which Nico confirms. He resents Titania for keeping him trapped here as one of her Fair Folk while the woman he loves will wait for him until she dies. Destroying the only thing she seems to treasure felt like a fitting punishment after she destroyed his happiness.

Gloxinia thanks him for his honesty and promises that Titania won't find out who stole the flower. He doesn't blame Nico for doing what he did but tells him that as her husband he can't stand knowing how sad she would feel if he didn't return it to her, then flies back towards the battle.

As he appears back on the battlefield, Oberon has joined Titania, even though she's injured. The pair of them look exhausted, having to take on the Sins but not too worse for wear. He flies up to Titania, offering the shreds of his first gift to her, and in an instant Titania begins crying - utterly horrified by what's happened to it. She swears she's going to kill everyone on the island but gets cut off by Gloxinia kissing the tip of her nose and chiding her for crying over something so trite.

In an instant, he injects his magic into the flower, healing it and restoring the bloom to full vitality. Titania is stunned, not believing her eyes before slowly reaching out and touching Gloxinia's face to confirm he's really there and not a hallucination. Once she confirms it, she utterly collapses into him, apologizing and begging for forgiveness but once again he chides her for her dramatics. He tucks the flower back into its rightful place in her hair before embracing her properly and finally kissing his wife again after three thousand years apart.

Following Titania's return to her senses, she returns the children to their families and allows everyone to leave Tír na nÓg. To her surprise, some choose to stay. As long as Titania is the same kind, just queen she was when they first arrived they're more than happy to stay. Oberon hands Titania a magic stone they can communicate through and says she'll take care of the Fair Folk while their queen spends time with her husband. If they need anything or she needs them, a message into the stone is all it will take. Nico doesn't hesitate to climb on the boat back to the mainland, ready to finally be with the love of his life again and fulfill his promise.

Gloxinia is just happy to be with Titania again and show her the world, the new fairy forest, whatever she wants as long as they can stay together.

[celticcrossanon]

Tea from Lady C's latest YT video (May 23rd, 2024), part 1. LC hears that H&M marriage has hit a rough spot but this does not mean they are divorcing anytime soon" & H&M's relationship is "sadomasochistic. Meghan mostly dominates Harry, but sometimes they flip roles. Meghan’s big role in the relationship is to blame Harry for failing to protect her and failing to keep her safe. And Harry’s main role in life is to blame himself for failing to protect Mummy so he must protect Meghan."

Tea from Lady C's latest YT video (May 23rd, 2024), part 2. LC says "Harry tortures himself that he can never be good enough as a husband. As a son. Harry is constantly being lassoed by Meghan. Unless he cuts the rope and frees himself, he will never escape. Lady C does not have hope that Harry will realize he is abused by Meghan."

*

Hi Nonny,

I combined both your asks so they can be read as one.

Well, that was more than I wanted to know about the relationship dynamics of the Harkles.

It sounds as if they enable each other. It also sounds as if Harry is acting out his repressed issues with his mother and her death in the relationship, which comes as no surprise to anyone, I think.

I agree with Lady C. Harry has to realise what is happening and free himself. If not, he will a) resent the people who rescued him and blame them for everything that was wrong in the relationship and b) repeat the same relationship with the next person who comes along, who will be Meghan 2.0 but worse. It is hard to watch it happening, but this is a lesson that Harry has to learn for himself.

Also, I don't think Harry wants to leave Meghan, as where else will he find someone who encourages him to foster and feed his worst traits?

[imdoingsortagay]

You’re my girl

Ghostface!Agatha x reader

Summary : you were her girl and she’d do anything to protect you

Warning: ghostface!Agatha, murder and some dark stuff

word count : 2.9k

A/n : I’m sorry if this is trash but it’s something

Years and years of getting away from danger, yet it never failed to come popping out of nowhere. This time it was the first month of you moving into Westview and some innocent man had been murdered. 

“ Oh honey come here,” you hear your friend Agatha say as she brings you in for a hug. At first, when you got here she was a bit pushy with showing affection. Not being the one to be used to getting hugs til you met her 

“ You don’t have to be here Aggie,” you mumble into her chest,” I’d rather not put you in any danger”. 

“ Oh nonsense superstar” " she says and you both spend the rest of the day in her house before you eventually make it back to your house as you did have to go to work the next day. Not before Agatha kisses you on the cheek and a Tupperware full of leftovers. 

She was a nice lady, a good cook, and pretty as hell but there was always something that stopped you from making the relationship official with her. She could sense it too when you’d act like friends in public and lovers in private. She’d never question when you would see her at your apartment for little breakfast dates and see a random woman leave the place or when people would come and flirt with you whenever you’d drag her along to the bar. 

Right as you begin to get comfy in bed and think of Agatha, your phone starts ringing. The caller ID is unknown before you start to think of who might be calling you at this hour. One part of you says to let it ring until they get tired but after years of running from town to town, you are way better off just answering the call. A couple more seconds go by before you press the answer button and are met with a very familiar deep laugh

“ Well if it isn’t my sweetheart,” Ghostface tells you over the phone while you roll your eyes. Always the one for pentanes this one. 

“ How the fuck did you even get my information ?????” You ask. 

“ Y/n darling,” she pauses,” use that adorable brain of yours to think where’d I get all the information on you baby. I just wanna make sure my favorite bunny is safe from all the danger of course”. 

“ After you killed my wife I doubt that’s true,” you spit back, feeling your pent-up anger come back. All their years of running from Ghostface and yet they never failed at being horrible. It had been a year into your marriage with Natasha at the time when she was brutally murdered by the killer after they saw the both of you happy together. Since then each person you tried to get together with, would always get murdered in a gruesome way, and the both of you would play a game of cat and mouse until you got tired of it and moved away. 

Truly there was some delusion going on in your head if you thought they’d leave you alone. Nobody can stop them in their path of destruction if it means having you. 

“ Just wanted to see how Westview was treating you bunny, liking all your new besties? “ 

“ how the fuck do you know where I am you massive -“ 

“ I have ears and eyes everywhere honey, better not be too careful with that redhead sweetheart” they pause,” for a married woman, she sure does seem to flirt with you all the time”. 

“Wanda and I are just friends you ass,” they can hear you yell through the phone. Wanda was in a happy marriage with Jarvis and from the many times you’ve had dinner with them, they seemed to both be madly in love with each other.

“ Honey you studied at one of the most prestigious colleges in the country and you can’t seem to see that the redhead wants to be fucked by you,” they pause,” that woman is terrible at hiding her moans darling, she tends to moan out your name a lot when the husband of hers is out on some dumb business trip”. 

“ You’re lying,” you yell again, grabbing a knife from the kitchen. 

“ Darling you’ve known me longer enough to know me as someone who’d lie,” and before you can respond you hear your office door open to ghost's face. Your flight or fight going on overdrive as you throw the knife their way and they dodge it with ease. The closer they get to you the faster you move to get out of your house to go to the one person who’d protect you with all their energy. Only 2 houses away you make it to her door and ring the doorbell with fear before you’re met with the older woman who seemed to be sleeping at that moment.

“ Honeybee? It’s only 10 pm what’s the rush-?” She asks before you push the both of you inside and lock the door. Sensing your nervousness, Agatha holds you in her arms. The warmth of the woman brings your breathing down and makes you forget what happened earlier in your house. 

“ Honey, you’re scaring me why’d you run into my house? Did someone come? A dog? A rude neighbor?” She asks brushing your hair away to your face and her heart breaks to see you crying. 

“ Aggie they came,” you say between sobs,” they came here Aggie I didn’t think they’d come back!!!” You say as you cry again in her arms. All your friend can do is keep holding you in her arms. 

“ I’m never letting you get hurt my little honeybee,” she tells you as a means to comfort you,” As long as I’m in your life, you’ll always have someone to protect you from all the evil in the world”. 

And she made sure of it. 

3 months passed with no other sightings of ghost faces, no murder committed by them, and no other weird calls since then. Agatha offered up her home to protect you from the dangers of the world and you took the offer. At first, it was weird sharing a house with the woman but it became comforting to come home to her making your favorite dinner in the most gorgeous-looking dress you’ve ever seen on her. Before the two of you know it, it becomes a routine to come home after a busy day of work to Agatha making you food. 

“ Oh honey I’m home,’ you say in a way too cheery tone that elicited a chuckle from the older woman. You take off your suit jacket to see Agatha has gone casual but you pay no mind to it as she approaches you for your usual after-work hug. 

“ Nothing weird happens to you at work ?” She casually asks you while serving you a plate. 

“ No but I got a random text from Wanda, I haven’t talked to her in a while though,” you pause as you bite into the meatloaf,” she’s been busy trying to be a better wife to her husband or whatever the girl at the coffee shop said.”

“Now?” Agatha asks “ I wonder why”. 

“ It might be because of what ghost face told me the night I almost died” you mumble to her, Agatha unsure as to how to react. She had assured you that you didn’t have to tell her what was said that night. She had thought it would be months from now until you had been more comfortable to talk. 

“ Ghostface told me Wanda had a crush on me and something about hearing her masturbate to the thought of me,” you tell the woman” which I don’t believe for one instance”. 

“ What did she send?” Agatha asks you in a monotone voice, which makes you a bit nervous but you show her the text either way. She’s your friend, of course, she would never force you to show her and you felt comfortable doing so. 

Maximoff: I know we haven’t talked since you moved in with Harkness but I miss you y/n <3 

“ Should I go talk to her tomorrow? I mean it’d be weird to still be friends even after the info they told me but maybe so? Do I bring something? Wine? Roses? A baked good? Or -“ 

“ Honeybee calm down,” she chuckles,” look at me dear and breathe a bit”. 

“ If you want to talk with her y/n and you feel that you’re ready for it,” she grabs both of your hands,” I think it might be a great idea”. 

The past couple of months of being in Agatha’s house you don’t notice how pretty she is, her pretty eyes looking at you as she talks about something but all you can focus on is her pretty lips. 

“ Are you listening to me - “ you take the moment to kiss her lips, your gut telling to you show the appreciation you have for her. Agatha takes a couple of seconds to focus before grabbing you from your chair, carrying you like you weigh nothing. 

“ Bedroom baby ?” She asks between kisses. 

“ Fuck yes please baby’, you respond as she makes your way to her bedroom.

“ Three hours later “ 

You wake up in Agatha’s bed with a smile on your face and your body sore, happy to have been fucked by her but also shocked too. All this time she looked like a sweet lady who would blush at the mention of sex. Yet Agatha proved you very wrong with your assumption. 

You move to the right side of the bed, expecting the woman to be fast asleep, and are met with an empty bed. While one part of you wants to just go back to sleep the other part of you chooses to get out of bed to see where she went. You can’t find any shirt of yours so you decide to throw on the one Agatha had on earlier, sure it’s a bit big on you but better than walking around naked. 

‘ Where the fuck is she’ you think to yourself as you look around the house, not finding her in the kitchen, the bathroom, or even your office which worries you a bit. She can protect herself, all this time with her she has proven she can defend herself. You try to think positively in said moment when you hear some muffled talking coming from the one place she told you not to go to, the basement. 

When you first moved in, she gave you free rein in her house except for the basement. You respected that rule as it would be the one place where she could have some alone time but this might be the one moment where you’d break that rule if it meant assuring that she was okay in the moment. Checking behind you once again as you slowly make your way down to the basement to not make yourself known the talking starts to get louder but the moment that you open the door to the forbidden room, you can believe your eyes. 

Wanda’s dead body is all over the floor, still bleeding while your friend, your protector for the past couple of months is above her body with a giant kitchen knife still in her right hand. 

“ You weren’t supposed to see this honeybee,” she starts,” I was gonna clean out the basement before you woke up”. 

“ Agatha you can’t explain this in any way,” you tell her, shock all over your face. Your mind goes in all different places before Agatha starts talking again. 

“ I was just protecting you sweetheart. Wanda wanted you for herself to fuck and I couldn’t let that happen to my little honeybee so I just decided to take her out before she can do anything to you”. 

“ Oh god, oh god it’s you,” you say to yourself. All the years of pain and suffering, countless times the cops told you they couldn’t capture your biggest enemy and somehow it was the person who brought you into their home, made you feel loved, made you feel protected, made you feel the happiest you’ve been in years to tear it all down with the revelation. 

“ I knew that brain of yours worked baby,” Agatha says as she slowly makes her way to you. You don’t think quickly enough before she grabs your body, unable to get away from the older woman’s grip. She was the one who took everything away from you all those years ago starting with your dead wife and you hated yourself for falling for her spell. 

“ Let me go,” you struggle to get out of her grip as she carries you to a chair not a couple of feet away from your friend's body. Even with your failed attempt to get out of her strong grip, Agatha manages to tie you up in the chair and then goes to a nearby table to let you calm down. 

“ All this time you were the one who made my life a living hell,” you hear Agatha laugh at your words, meaning she must feel the opposite. 

“ Oh baby that’s far from the truth,” she says,” that wife of yours was doing some shady business behind your back and I was just trying to keep you safe before she used you to get off scot-free. All this was to protect you from going to jail”. 

“ NO “  

“ No? Oh honey once I’m down with you then you’ll realize all of this,” she points to the dead body not far away from you,” was to make sure that you were safe and sound my darling”. 

“ Like I said: I’m never letting you get hurt my little honeybee,” she tells you and you fear what she has planned. 

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hey love I wanted to know if you can do a yandere Shiva x empress reader who had two sons both teenagers however though when she died she turned into this sweet lady however those shoes kind of like Queen Elizabeth II where Queen Elizabeth was in her 20 she was a ruthless woman give out war speeches that's how reader is the only thing about this is that reader was actually on the battlefield with her soldiers and let's just say this her sons are in a battle and they are losing she acts the Valkyries to bring her back to life and Shiva does not know where she is so they go looking for the Valkyries take them to her and she's on the battlefield and her words were after they see her killing an enemy whole words are blood for blood you will not be missed after she ripped it the heart out of her enemy with her bare hands how would yandere Shiva and his wife's react

-When Shiva had first met you, he had no idea that you were a warrior, a queen but instead of sitting on the throne and just looking pretty, you would be out in the fields with your soldiers, leading them and fighting alongside them.

-This is what drew him to you, as he had heard about a newly arrived monarch who was once a great warrior, one that fought in many battles and he wanted to meet them.

-After Ragnarok, Shiva and many other gods had a greater respect for humans, as they were way stronger than the gods initially thought, and after all those who passed were brought back to life, including his rival turned best friend, Raiden, Shiva wanted to fight other strong humans.

-However, when Brunnhilde introduced the two of you, he was a little disappointed seeing that you were a woman, no longer the older woman, reverting back to your prime in your early twenties, however when you greeted him, he could sense power within you.

-You were a sweet person, treating others, especially children, with such gentle kindness, but also speaking to others who have disrespected you or others like a true ruler, commanding their respect, but not talking down to them as if they were beneath you.

-When he brought his wives to come and meet with you after several visits, his wives instantly liked you, finding you witty, polite, sweet, but also you took no crap, you were perfect!!

-The four of them were stunned to learn that you had two sons, who were still alive, both of them wonderful people, making you proud by helping so many others.

-You were flattered by their affection towards you, after spending time with them and all four of them, Shiva, Parvati, Kali, and Durga, all fancied you, as you didn’t care for your husband, as it was an arranged marriage.

-It was the first time you were dealing with others who had genuine affections for you so you were a little hesitant, something they saw, but they found it alluring, finding it cute.

-Shiva was the one to ask you to start dating them, and while you were a little uneasy as he had three wives already, they were all in agreement and you could see that he had enough love for all of them, you included, so you agreed.

-It was the first time that you got to be in a relationship where you were happy and allowed to be happy and enjoy yourself rather than just ‘sit there and look pretty and be silent’.

-Shiva promised you, that if he came across your ex-husband, he would deliver a beat down, after you didn’t want to talk about him so they did their own digging, finding out how cruelly he had treated you, including cheating on you, multiple times.

-Luckily for your ex-husband, he wasn’t worthy to come to Valhalla, so he wasn’t there, but you would check in on your children here and there, making sure your sons were safe.

-Shiva was confused after you failed to meet up with them for a picnic date, as you were never late, it was impolite to be late. Kali was holding her cheek, trying to figure out where you could be, “I remember that she said she was going to check in on her children with that Valkyrie, Brunnhilde. Could she still be there?”

-They sought out Brunnhilde who was watching over a large orb, showing a massive battle and Shiva spoke, “Brunnhilde, do you know where Y/N is?”

-Brunnhilde turned, bowing in greetings to the four of them, “Lord Shiva- Y/N is currently on the screen before you.” They turned, seeing that you were in a large battle, holding a sword.

-Parvati’s hands came to her mouth, “What is she doing?!” Brunnhilde explained, keeping her eyes locked on the screen, “Y/N came to me, asking to see her children, and when she saw them in a losing battle, she requested to be sent back down. It is possible to send humans back, as long it’s within five years of their passing, but only for one hour.”

-Shiva remembered this rule, as not many humans took advantage of it, being content in Valhalla, and to see you using your one time pass to help your children, he could only admire you more.

-Shiva turned to Brunnhilde, “Take me there- I want to help her.” Brunnhilde was surprised by his request before remembering that you had joined their group as the fourth. She agreed, “I will do as you ask, but you must take a human form.”

-Shiva had no issue, turning into the human version of himself, which looked exactly the same, only with tanned skin and one set of eyes and arms and she took his hand and opened the bridge to Midgard, or Earth and pulled him through, while the others remained, watching the fight from Valhalla.

-However, thanks to your leadership, with many not realizing that it was you, but listening to your orders, feeling your aura of a leader, including your children, they followed you and you quickly turned the battle around.

-As Shiva and Brunnhilde arrived, they both paused, eyes wide as they watched you charge towards a man, wearing heels and your pretty sundress before you thrust your hand into his chest and pulled out his heart.

-Shiva had no idea you were so vicious and violent! It was kind of hot as the enemy retreated, seeing this young maiden fighting so violently as your sons and the soldiers cheered.

-You turned as your sons approached, recognizing you and you smiled warmly, “You both did so well! I’ll keep watching over you.”

-They both hugged you before you turned, running to Shiva who grinned, catching you princess-style and your sons saw this new man, seeing you so happy, so they said nothing other than goodbye, and the three of you disappeared.

-Once back in Valhalla you were plowed down by Shiva’s wives, who expressed their worry for you as well as telling you how cool it was to see you fighting, as many said you were a warrior queen, but many didn’t believe it, looking at you.

-You couldn’t help but smile, feeling so loved between the four of them before Shiva picked you up princess style again, “Well let’s get you cleaned up then we can have our picnic!”

-His wives cheered and you couldn’t help but smile, cheering along with them, feeling like you truly belonged there with them, like it was where you were meant to be.

[jedimaesteryoda]

Victarion had been sent by Euron to retrieve Daenerys to be his bride, but Victarion has other plans: he intends to marry Daenerys himself and become king not just of the Iron Isles but all of Westeros. Having spent his entire life being the follower serving others from his father to his brothers, and having failed to win the kingsmoot, he now takes the opportunity to become the leader.

"Where else? The dragon queen awaits me in Meereen." The fairest woman in the world if my brother could be believed. Her hair is silver-gold, her eyes are amethysts.

-ADWD, The Iron Suitor

On wings of song I fly to you, Daenerys, the iron captain thought.

-ADWD, Victarion I

The way Victarion thinks of Daenerys is notably similar to another Westerosi suitor, Quentyn. Quentyn saw himself by his own admission as on “a grand adventure . . . Demon roads and stormy seas, and at the end of it the most beautiful woman in the world. A tale to tell our grandchildren” only for his plan to marry her fall flat. Victarion likewise was sent to retrieve her by his sovereign, and thinks of her as a reward at the end of his long quest. 

It’s seen further in his thoughts on her.

But I shall make the dragon queen mine own. She will share my bed and bear me many mighty sons."

-ADWD, The Iron Suitor

And Euron had not made Victarion a gift of her; the Crow's Eye meant to take her for himself. He sends me like a serving man to fetch her. How he will howl when I claim her for myself. Let the men mutter. They had sailed too far and lost too much for Victarion to turn west without his prize.

-ADWD, Vication I

The way he refers to her as “gift” and “prize” shows how before he even meets her, he’s objectifying her. He projects his fantasies onto her as some prize or damsel in distress wanting a big, strong man to come get her to become his trad wife who gives him sons, and just goes along with what he wants without even wondering what she might want. 

He’s missing some clear indicators about the abilities and person of the girl he means to marry that are pointed out by Tyrion:

"I know that she spent her childhood in exile, impoverished, living on dreams and schemes, running from one city to the next, always fearful, never safe, friendless but for a brother who was by all accounts half-mad … a brother who sold her maidenhood to the Dothraki for the promise of an army. I know that somewhere out upon the grass her dragons hatched, and so did she. I know she is proud. How not? What else was left her but pride? I know she is strong. How not? The Dothraki despise weakness. If Daenerys had been weak, she would have perished with Viserys. I know she is fierce. Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen are proof enough of that. She has crossed the grasslands and the red waste, survived assassins and conspiracies and fell sorceries, grieved for a brother and a husband and a son, trod the cities of the slavers to dust beneath her dainty sandaled feet.”

While the submissive Vicarion was handed the Iron Fleet, Daenerys built nearly everything from the ground up. Daenerys didn’t get her dragons, her army or her city by being meek and submissive, but has shown herself to be strong, smart and resourceful and capable.  

Victarion will find to his dismay when he finally meets her that Daenerys isn’t some meek, submissive damsel but someone just like his niece Asha who is a strong, proud leader (and smarter than him) not willing to subordinate her goals and ambitions to his.

He had seen the wench wed too, but what of it? She would not be the first woman Victarion Greyjoy had made a widow.

-ADWD, The Iron Suitor

But then where does he go from there? The dumb brute’s ideology is constrained by the Old Way which taught him nothing about diplomacy. What happens if she rejects his offer of marriage? Victarion likely will not give up after having come so far, and when in doubt, he would consult the Old Way or ask what Euron might do. 

The Old Way taught him to take things by force, including people. Victarion has taken salt wives before, and he was even willing to kill Dany’s husband Hizdahr just so he could marry her without even taking into account her reaction to such an act, showing a clear lack of regard for her consent. I think should Daenerys make it clear that she won’t marry him freely, it would result in him trying to marry her by force. 

"In the Seven Kingdoms, there are tales of dragons who grew so huge that they could pluck giant krakens from the seas.”

That, of course, won’t end well for him. While “at sea the kraken rules supreme,” in the Dothraki Sea, the dragon reigns supreme. His attempts at courting Daenerys will likely end the same way Quentyn’s did as the dragon Daenerys named in the spirit of the husband who protected her, Drogon, will likely deal with this troublesome suitor.

The deeply misogynistic Victarion who abducted women as salt wives and beat them to death for being raped by his brother, dies at the hands of a woman he tries to take by force. Daenerys herself ends up taking his Iron Fleet after having paid the Iron Price of Victarion.  

Thus is the fate of any Greyjoy who strives for a crown. 

[scotianostra]

On 10th of February 1567 Henry Stewart, Lord Darnley, estranged husband of Mary, Queen of Scots, was murdered in Kirk O'Field.

The murder of Mary Stuart's second husband has fascinated historians for centuries, he was amn with no shorage of enemies, and was disliked by many, Mary was deeply unhappy with her husband, and is often cited as the one with most to gain, I personally do not think she was involved, but hey, I might be worng, here's more about the case.

On a Sunday morning in February 1567, Darnley lay sleeping on the upper floor of an Edinburgh house known as Kirk o' Field. For weeks he had rested there, convalescing from either smallpox or syphilis. Across the city, Queen Mary and their baby Prince James were safely ensconced at Holyrood House. Unknown to Darnley and perhaps unknown to Mary, someone had for some time been packing the cellars of Kirk o' Field with enough gunpowder to blow the structure to smithereens. And at around 2 am the building exploded, a blast heard and felt throughout Edinburgh.

According to historian Magnus Magnusson, nothing was left of the building. But, in an adjoining garden beside a pear tree, townsmen found Darnley's nightgown-clad corpse. Curiously, he appeared not to have been killed by the explosion but by strangulation. Magnusson speculates that Darnley had tried to escape just before the blast but had been intercepted by his murderer before he could flee.

Complying with royal protocol, Queen Mary observed 40 days of official mourning for her husband. But rumours circulated that Mary's widow weeds were woven discordantly with threads of insincerity. With Darnley's death, she had, in fact, become a widow for the second time. If her two-year marriage to Darnley had been brief, so too was her earlier marriage to the Dauphin of France. That union had lasted only two and a half years before the Dauphin, who had become King Francis II upon his father's death in 1559, died at age 16 from complications of an ear infection.

To understand the lead up to Mary's unhappiness you have to take a look at the circummstances leading up to her marriage and another murder.

Against the advice of her nobles and in spite of Queen Elizabeth's expressed displeasure, Mary wed Darnley in July 1565. But as predicted, the bridegroom's dissolute lifestyle soon angered her, causing her, of course, to second guess her decision. Most nights he roamed the streets of Edinburgh with low-life companions in search of women. He failed to participate in the business of the royal court.

Less than a year after the wedding, Darnley, unhinged by immature jealousy, became involved in the murder of David Rizzio, his wife's private secretary. Rizzio had come to Scotland from Italy some years previously on a diplomatic mission but remained at the Scottish court as a lute player, singer, and subsequently, as Mary's assistant. The more outraged Mary became over her husband's stupidity and lewd behaviour, the more she looked to Rizzio for consolation. At the time she and Rizzio were close, many Scottish Protestant lords were discontent with Mary's rule. Some of the nobles claimed that Rizzio was a secret agent of the Pope and had usurped their proper places beside the Queen. They easily cajoled the gullible Darnley into believing that Mary and Rizzio were sexual partners, an accusation that historians have found implausible. (At the time, Mary was six months pregnant with Darnley's child.) They persuaded him to take part in a plot to murder the Italian.

On the night of Saturday, 9th March 1566, Rizzio was dragged screaming from Queen Mary's side at her supper table in Holyrood House and stabbed some 56 times before life drained from his struggling limbs. It is unclear whether Darnley himself did the dragging or the stabbing or whether one of his henchmen performed the actual slaughter.

Amazingly, Mary forgave - or at least pretended to forgive - Darnley and cleverly managed to sever him from the group of treasonous nobles who had masterminded the Rizzio assassination. With Rizzio still fresh in the minds of the court, another threat to Darnley's fragile self-esteem soon took centre stage. James Hepburn, fourth Earl of Bothwell (a committed Protestant himself), rushed to Mary's aid in putting down a rebellion of Protestant conspirators.

Bothwell was Lord Admiral of Scotland, and although he possessed a reputation for bravery, he was also known to be lecherous, brutal, and power-hungry. Mary regarded him as her saviour, and he quickly became her most trusted advisor.

By the time Mary gave birth to Lord Darnley's son in June 1566, her husband had backslid into a life of debauchery, neglecting his royal duties and displaying a sullen resentment towards Mary's relationship with Bothwell. His disappearance from court prompted talk of a possible annulment of the royal marriage. But when the Queen learned he was seriously ill in Glasgow, she traveled to his bedside and later arranged for a horse litter to carry him back to Edinburgh to convalesce at Kirk o' Field. For months Mary had spoken of her husband with nothing but contempt, and the gesture was out of character.

While there is no definite answer to the question of who murdered Lord Darnley, most historians agree that Bothwell - with or without Mary's complicity - concocted the plot. A house explosion, which gave the crime such flagrant overtones and which scandalized all of Europe, was significant; a disintegrated building would cover tracks, making it impossible to prove anything. To be sure there was no direct evidence establishing Bothwell as the murderer, but for those associated with the royal court, it was only too easy to guess. Bothwell was a ruthless opportunist aiming at nothing less than the kingship of Scotland.

Typical of the era, the events following Darnley's murder were dramatic, ruthless, and bloody. Bothwell kidnapped, raped (so Mary claimed), and married the Queen. Predictably, within days of the wedding Mary was reduced to suicidal despair by Bothwell's abuse. Yet her willingness to marry Bothwell was not as absurd as it might seem. In spite of all she had been through, Mary remained politically astute. In the political power game playing out around her, she needed a strong ally to protect her from rebellious noblemen. Indeed, Bothwell notwithstanding, less than a year after Darnley's death the Scottish lords forced Mary to abdicate and flee to England. For the next two decades, she was held prisoner by Queen Elizabeth I and finally executed in England at Fotheringhay Castle in 1587.

There is no hint of any culpability on Queen Mary's part in regard to the Darnley murder in Sir Walter Scott's romantic epitaph, albeit written centuries later....

Thus died Queen Mary, aged a little above 44 years. She was eminent for beauty, for talents, and accomplishments, nor is there reason to doubt her natural goodness of heart, and courageous manliness of disposition. Yet she was in every sense one of the most unhappy Princesses that ever lived, from the moment she came into the world, in an hour of defeat and danger, to that in which a bloody and violent death closed weary captivity of 18 years.

The picture shows a depiction of the murder scene, for a breakdown of it, and more about the murder check out the link below from The National Archives. https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/education/resources/kirk-o-field/

[spaceorphan18]

Who is the best character on The Office, and why is the correct answer Pam?

You know, it's funny, when I started watching this show, I connected more to Jim -- in that I was in my mid-twenties, and didn't care that much about my job, and felt stuck, and doing humorous things to pass the time was what I did.

But as the years have passed, I really do think Pam has one of the most realized arcs on the show -- and it's subtle and awkward and doesn't go in a direction you expect it. Because TV has expected us that getting the big things is winning. That -- she needed to succeed at art school or get a huge promotion or want to leave her safe, comfortable life to be considered a win or a success.

And she doesn't.

She fails. A lot. She's in a terrible relationship for a long time because she struggles with her own self worth, and is an inward person, who really doesn't want to be pushed out of her comfort zone. She fails at art school and decides not going back is the best answer. She prefers her small town life with her two kids and her husband in a job that's less than ideal.

But the thing is, Pam does find courage. She does try. She does become more confident within herself. She does take chances. She does end up standing for herself. She has these little, mini victories along the way. And all of those begin to add up. All of those are rewarding -- and I think so true to life.

Most of us don't experience the big wins. Most of us don't end up rich at the end of successful careers. Most of us don't end up with the grand sweeping romances. Most of us do fumble around just trying to make it in life. And Pam symbolizes that so much.

but she does fight for the things that matter to her. She does end up fighting for herself. She does end up fighting for Jim. She does end up fighting for her marriage. When it matters, she does the thing.

And I love that about her. And I respect that about her.

I think Season three's Pam arc -- where she really starts to stand on her own and really be her own person is one of my favorite arcs in television series. I adore her character growth there, and her coal walk and speech in Beach Games will always be one of my favorites.

She's real, she's smart, she's funny, she's emotional, she's silly, she's a mess, she's adorable, and she feels god in this chili's tonight. And that is why I love Pam. :)