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notsodelirious · 3 months ago

Note

hi hi hi i loveee your royal au with Dick PLEASE continue ahhh the angst ahhh i love it ahh my heart ahh it burns so good 😭😭

and if you do make it nsfw but then mix it with the bittersweet forbidden love trope AAHHHH pleaseyes i would cry so much but also happy tears but also just my heart going kaboom so yeah do it 🥺

here it is!

synopsis: tear-filled sex and a drastic solution as your engagement grows nearer

notes: NSFW MDNI, it’s anal sex and no genitals are described so it’s still gn :)

tags: Royalty AU, forbidden romance, knight!Dick Grayson, anal sex (reader bottoms), just about 2k words, no use of y/n

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (current)

You moaned into his mouth, a keening sound as he pinned you against the wall.

“Shh…”

You had barely even made it into your chambers before Dick was all over you. You were just retreating from a dinner, a final negotiation of what your union with your betrothed would bring to the table for both kingdoms. You had sat as everybody discussed your fate, but never turned to you.

Dick had been standing behind you the entire time, as a couple of other knights had been—a fight was unlikely to break out this late into the arrangement, but neither party wanted to take any chances; flaunting their power as their finest stood around while they gorged themselves and spoke of people and livestocks. You almost ran the moment you were dismissed—by that point, you seldom cared about how rude you were perceived to be, you needed to be anywhere but there.

Barely a couple seconds later, you heard footsteps rush after you.

His hand gripped your waist, holding you against him, your back arched to press against him, selfishly devouring the affection and attention he showered onto you.

“You have to be quiet, love, or they’ll hear you.” His words were soft, barely whispered against your mouth. You tried to nod, tried stifling your sounds but a soft whimper slipped past your lips when Dick rolled his hips against yours, rutting his growing bulge against your crotch.

The next moan was muffled beneath his hand as he covered your mouth, calloused palm pressing carefully across your lower face, precious sapphire blue eyes drinking in the sight of your needy body.

“Can you be quiet?” he whispered against your ear before he dipped down to kiss your neck, “Or do I have to keep you quiet?” You didn’t answer—couldn’t answer—you simply stared pleadingly, hips twitching in a valiant effort to not seek out the friction and pleasure you so desperately craved from him. He continued to lavish your neck, careful to not leave a single blemish on your skin, any trace of his love on you. You weren’t his to keep, to mark.

“Be good for me, love,” he continued in a low voice, unoccupied hand already shifting to start undoing your clothes, tugging fine fabrics and jewellery away from your body, until you stood completely bare in front of him. The cold air of the room made your skin prickle, while his awestruck expression made your face warm.

“Stop staring like that.”

“But you’re gorgeous.” You averted your gaze curtly, hands instinctively drifting to shield yourself from his gaze. You startled slightly when he grabbed your wrists and pulled them up above your head. “Don’t—I mean it.” He leaned down to kiss you again, his tongue pushed into your mouth, savouring any part of you he could. You tried to reciprocate as best you could, show as much love to him as he was to you but he held you down, forcing you to accept how he was cherishing you.

“Get on the bed for me?”

You made for the bed when he let you go. You heard the rustling of clothing as he began to shed his own attire—you were almost annoyed he had waited until your back was to him to start undressing but it almost instantly forgiven the moment you settled on the bed and looked up at him.

There truly was no entity prettier than Dick Grayson. You would describe his body as being carved from marble if he wasn’t so wholly warm, soft to the touch, gentle. The man you loved wasn’t a statue, he was so painfully human that your heart ached for him.

He crawled over to you, kissing you as soon as he reached you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, dragging him down with you as you laid down.

“Comfortable?” he asked, to which you nodded and he pecked your cheek before he reached up towards your bedside table for the vial of oil. “I’ll go slow,” he promised as he kissed your cheek again. You hummed, forcing your muscles to relax in preparation—you knew it would be uncomfortable at first, but the pay off would be worth it.

You parted your legs for him, ignoring the embarrassment that flushed under your skin as he settled between them, petting your thigh was a slow hand. It slid down, fingertips brushing against your puckered hole, making you squirm slightly. For a moment, he simply continued the movement, brushing his fingers up and down your ass, letting you get used to the feeling of being touched.

It wasn’t until he heard you let out a shaky sigh that he uncorked the vial and oiled his fingers and your hole, stoppered the bottle and discarded it as soon as he was done.

“Deep breaths, baby,” he said before he pushed the first finger in. His pace was slow as he let you adjust to the foreign feeling and only when you nodded did he add a second. You squirmed under his grasp, even as his clean hand gripped your hip to keep you still and his lips kissed your shoulder and chest, distracting you from the intrusion. You muffled your moan behind your hand when he curled his fingers upwards, your eyes rolled back just the slightest bit at the unexpected pleasure.

“So good for keeping quiet, love,” Dick praised as he pushed his third finger in, immediately making you break your good behaviour, the whimper so loud he silenced it with a kiss. You panted against his lips, rolling your hips against his hand, all in an attempt for more, you needed more—even as he stretched you open deliciously over his thick fingers, you wanted him.

“Dick…”

“Okay, love, okay, just-“ he pulled his fingers out of your relaxed asshole, and found the oil as you grumbled unhappily about the loss. He chuckled softly while he slicked his cock, readying himself for you. You’d only seen his cock a handful of times, but you couldn’t deny how fascinated you found yourself every time. He was pretty, just like the rest of him was, long and slightly curved upwards and the thought of him inside you made your heart skip happily. “You know you can’t have it both ways.”

“I want you.”

“I know, love, I know,” he rested his hand on your waist as he held himself steady with the other. “Ready?” You couldn’t have nodded faster—you kissed him again as he began to slide into you, stretching you open further than his fingers had, his lips muffling every whine and whimper.

It was a long minute before he was fully seated in you, leaving you trembling and your chest heaving as you tried not to overwhelm yourself from the penetration alone.

“Are you okay?” He brushed sweaty hair out of your face before cupping your cheeks, holding you carefully as if afraid of breaking you while he waited to ravage your body.

“It’s… so much,” you mumbled as you leaned into his touch. “I’m fine, I just… I need a minute.”

”Take as long as you need,” he assured you as he brushed his thumb across your skin, resting his forehead against yours, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Those words alone made your throat close up, tears pooling in your eyes.

”Okay…” You took another minute to compose yourself before you were nodding and Dick’s languid pace began, the gentle rock of a back and forth making the tears finally fall.

He was so careful, gentle hands so painfully aware of their power but never cruel or controlling. He kissed away yours tears, holding you close as he fucked you, desperate to get as close as possible, unwilling to let go. Giving yourselves to each other before you could be torn away.

You bit your lips, as he carved a space for himself inside your body, fucking into your loose and pliant body, groaning softly quietly while he thrust into your tight heat. Your legs clasped around his hips, the coil in your belly only tightened as he increased his pace, letting his control slip just the slightest bit to give way to the grief.

“Dick… Fuck, Dick-”

Your orgasm was drowned by tears and sobs, leaving your body shivering and sensitive. You clenched down around Dick as he followed close behind when he came inside you, claiming you without ever leaving a mark, before collapsing you.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered. Dick made a small distressed noise as he propped himself up on his elbows to hover over you. Your hands find his face, cradling him close. “I can’t lose you.”

“Then run away with me.”

You startled at his words, mouth agape.

“Run away with me,” he repeated, more determined this time around, confident. “My father’s estate is coastal. You can disappear before anybody realises you’re gone.”

“But, your family-“

Dick was close to his family—he wasn’t like you, he didn’t bear any resentment towards his father or siblings. He’d chosen to become a knight, to follow in his father’s footsteps.

He had chosen his life.

And now he was choosing you.

“I’ll talk to them.”

“I can’t ask you to leave them.”

“You aren’t.” He pulled away, his now soft cock slipping out of you. You sat up with a wince as he knelt in front of you. “I’m offering. Run away with me, Your Highness.”

“You have to stop calling me that,” you chuckled wetly as he wiped your face.

“Leave this place with me, love.”

Preparations didn’t take long, all things considered. The hardest part of the entire plan had been convincing your father to let you go to the Wayne Manor alone, for undisclosed business—so close to the wedding, he was reluctant; but when an urgent message from Lord Wayne himself reached the castle, there was nothing he could do but allow you to go.

You hadn’t expected to be welcomed into the manor with such open arms; both your escorts, Sir West and Sir Harper, smiled knowingly as Mr Pennyworth ushered you in before announcing that they were taking their leave and they had absolutely no idea where you’d go after they’d turn their backs.

Dick was tearing down the stairs before the doors even closed, and swept you into a tight hug. You embraced him, tense and awkward from the public display of affection, but you held him all the same, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Ready to go?” he asked softly when you both parted—you only nodded as you clutched his shirt in a vice grip. Slowly, the rest of the Wayne family had begun to trickle into the main hall, standing around the two of you. “Good—Jason and Cass will accompany us across the sea, we’ll separate when we get to the other side.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly.

Before he could answer, Jason piped up, “Don’t be. He’s been miserable the moment your engagement was announced.”

“He mopes,” Cass continued, giggles and laughter spreading through the manor when Dick began to protest that he didn’t mope.

“The ship is docked and ready for you,” Lord Wayne said as he stepped forward to place a hand on his eldest son’s shoulder. “Be careful out there.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Thank you,” you added, inclining your head ever so slightly.

He turned to you, a small smile playing across his impassive expression. “Your Highness?”

“Yes?”

“Take care of my son.”

“Yes, sir.”

a/n: I actually don’t know if I like this ending but it was this or Reader marries the person they’re engaged to and I think I prefer the happy ending (also I genuinely don’t know how I would have written a gender neutral wedding, I’ve been jumping through so many hoops to not mention gender lmao)

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shinwonderful · 5 months ago

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Freedom of Choice

prologue to Heavy is the Heart (That Wears the Crown) [masterlist coming soon]

part of you hoped you'd be able to avoid this aspect of royalty, but it was inevitable. they would never allow the sole heir to the kingdom of evermoor to remain unmarried. all you can hope for is that one of the suitors you meet will be the true love you've always dreamt of.

⁺✦ seventeen x reader (cyoa style!) ⁺✦ word count: 3.3k ⁺✦ genre: historical, kind of a mix of everything lol ⁺✦ warnings: shitty parents, forced marriage, mention of being pressured into intimacy, i promise i'm not a royalist i just think historical stories of nobility are v romantic

જ⁀➴┊ [🐈] happy valentine's day!! this series has been in the works since november, and i'm so excited to finally post the prologue! this series has come to be very close to my heart, and i'm really excited to share it with you guys!

special thanks to @lovewithoutresin my beautiful bestie for editing and writing the dialogue for the reader's Handmaiden! I love that this series has a piece of you in it too MWAH!!

the prologue and a certain upcoming chapter are dedicated to the lovely @ylangelegy for inspiring me to pick up writing (on tumblr) again after nearly a decade (christ alive i'm old. 💀). if they hadn't been so supportive and expressed interest in this story, i'd likely not have written it. happy valentine's day ilysbbbb

dividers by saradika!

each chapter of this series will have a (relatively lol) period-accurate theme and costume.

this chapter's theme is Fauré: Après un Rêve (ca. 1870).

"A song about devotion and passion. The dreamer yearns for the return of her dreams, in which she met her love: ‘In sleep made sweet by a vision of you’."

the costume for this chapter is this gorgeous afternoon dress (ca. 1835) from the met museum archives.

“All we ask is that you keep an open mind.”

The rattle of the carriage wheels against the meticulously hand-paved road beneath your fancifully cushioned seat was, perhaps, the only thing keeping you grounded at the moment. You could do little but curse them internally, knowing putting up a fight was… tragically futile.

“How do you mean, Mother?”

You already knew the answer to this question, but it bought you a bit of time to school your reaction, to use your decades of lessons in decorum to keep your actual thoughts and feelings from clawing themselves out of your mouth.

After all, for God’s sake, how could they expect you to choose a husband on this supposed ‘diplomatic tour’?

You’d, of course, rolled your eyes when your Handmaiden had told you of their plans (though a much more tumultuous emotion stirred behind your sardonic response). Your parents hadn’t even afforded you the courtesy of a conversation before making arrangements for the tour. Instead, the news was broken only after your Handmaiden heard the rumors in whispers that echoed through the long, hollow halls of your castle. (Pro Tip: Having a best friend on your staff never stops being helpful.) You knew what this was, and it wasn’t simply diplomatic. At least, not in the usual sense.

You knew what this was– everyone did. You were of the age where courtiers began to whisper about your lack of husband, gossiping about why the Crown Heir of Evermoor had yet to even begin the courting process. Why so many requests for meetings had gone politely rejected.

The truth was much less salacious than popular theory– as is usually the case. Quite simply, you’ve just yet to meet an eligible bachelor that doesn’t make you physically recoil at the prospect of being wed to them. Between the Dukes whose eyes on your female staff were… less than respectful and Counts who couldn’t make it longer than thirty seconds without saying something to stroke their own egos, you’d rather shovel the stables by hand than meet with any prospects for the time being.

There had been a close call once, just a few months back, where you’d met with a neighboring King who was charming enough at first. That is, of course, until the bastard had tried to pressure you into necking with him after dinner one night. You sent him packing on the spot. And your parents, the Queen and King, were irate. Apparently, not offending the royal family was more important than your honor.

Which, tragically, prompted them to force your hand into embarking on what would be your ‘grand tour’ throughout the nearby kingdoms. Officially, it was a tour to introduce you as the Crown Royal to your (pre-established and potential alike) ally’s own Royal Families. To establish a line of communication and get to know each other sooner rather than later. But none were gullible enough to miss the writing on the wall. You were unmarried, and most of the kingdoms you’d be visiting had unmarried royal sons of their own to offer. After all, for a royal as high-ranking as yourself, it’s most appropriate for you to marry other ‘high-value’ royalty. Those who would be Counts in their own right someday, some even Kings. Any children born would rule over both domains, doubling your families’ power and influence in the realm. (And that was all anything was ever about. Cue eye roll.)

Perhaps you’d have fought harder if you thought there was the slimmest chance of getting your way, but… why kid yourself? This was an inevitable. Since you were young, you’d known your fate would be that of most born of noble blood. To be used as a bargaining chip, a pawn in someone else’s game– one neither of you had elected to play.

Sure, there had been a time many years ago where you’d find yourself in despair over this. Growing up, your favorite stories were the ones told of love triumphing over all. You’d go to your balcony in the dead of night, wishing to any power that could hear you to be one of the lucky ones. For you to have the chance at a marriage of love. A husband you chose not because of the family crest he bore, but for the tender affection he showed you. The way he lit up your world, coloring your bluest nights into the tender pinks of the sunrise. Someone who was well and truly yours, divorced from the way nobility are traded like commodities, but how love brings two souls into one, merging until you can’t remember where you end and he begins. A love like poetry. A love worth writing about.

But those days were long behind you. Even the most hopeless of all romantics can’t resist the effects of erosion, the cynical waves of the ocean clawing at the coast until even something so eternal as the Earth itself gives way, becoming part of the ocean it once fought to resist so vehemently. Holding onto that optimism… at some point begins to hurt you more than it helps you. And so you, once as steady as the Earth in your quest for love, you surrendered to cynicism just as steadily, until you, too, found it hard to believe that love in the pure sense even existed at all.

Of course, those were the times when your Equerry would ask you to accompany him on a trip to the local market. After all, none could read you quite like him. It came with the territory– his job, of course, to be your shadow. To care for you, and to watch over you. And he took his role very seriously. To him, this meant to help you through not just your meetings with the steward, but also to watch for signs that your spirits need lifting (despite this not technically being in his duties). And seeing how your mouth twitched into a frown any time someone mentioned the concept of love the past few months? He didn’t have to be a scholar to read you.

So he pulled you into the castle’s preferred bakery, calling for Mister and Missus Kim and producing a beaming smile when the pair came out from the back to say hello. The couple’s eyes shined every time they looked at one another, and the three of them talked about the castle’s weekly order as you watched from near the door, mindlessly eyeing the pastries on display in the cabinet, trying to ignore the way your chest fluttered just being around something so beautiful. She held a toddler on her hip, and the moment it crossed your mind that she was looking tired from holding the boy, her husband instinctively grabbed him, placing him to lay upon his own chest instead. It was as if they had their own language, something silent but incredibly tangible that tied them together. And it was a sight to behold.

Your heart felt much less heavy on the ride home, your eyebrows quirked in thoughtful wishing instead of the bitter resignation they tended towards. Your Equerry said nothing, his hands smoothing against the hat he’d placed on his lap as he smiled softly. He didn’t need your words to know he’d done well, even if he would love to hear them. But alas, the you of the present day was much too timid to speak what was on your mind. The thoughts were much too soft for someone who was to someday rule over this nation. But maybe, you thought, maybe you were what was too soft. Maybe fate had played a cruel joke in making you the only one who could govern your beloved country once your parents no longer could. Maybe it was all a fool’s errand.

Because you couldn’t help but feel that… perhaps you’ll never be lucky enough to possess a love of your own, but you’re more sure than you’ve ever been that love is one of the finest things humanity has to offer– so real, so tangible that it shone through the dark clouds hanging over your head. And you’d do anything it took to feel its embrace, even for the smallest moment in time.

It was hard to contend with the idea people had in their head about you at times. To them, you were the Crown Heir of Evermoor. Sole Heir at that. Flowers bloomed bright the day you were born, and (according to folklore) it’s impossible for a flower to wilt if it’s been blessed by your presence.

You care deeply for your nation, making certain your Equerry schedules an allotment every few weeks for you to visit the capital’s town square, relishing in the bustle of the city and the chatter of those hard at work, or those working to forget their hard day at work. But when they notice you, they’re quick to forget what they were doing. Instead, they either gawk openly, or rush to have their moment with you. Something they’ll remember for a lifetime; ‘the time the Crown Royal complimented my pelerine’ or ‘the time I made the Crown Royal smile by presenting them with a rose’.

But at home? You’re just… you.

You’re sprawled out over your plush bed, dressed down to your chemise and pantaloons as your Handmaiden helped you sneak a second dessert to share, shutting the door to your quarters quietly as she, too, leapt to join you in your bed with a mischievous smile (though there was an unspoken tension in the air that neither of you cared to address just yet). Your hair hit your shoulders in what were once carefully-manicured curls that had loosened throughout the day. If it were anyone else, you’d be shamed for the lewdness of this moment, but this was another perk to having your best friend as your Handmaiden. With her, this was perfectly appropriate. Even if it wasn’t technically in the spirit of the rules.

The upcoming months hung over you like a death sentence. Tonight would be one of your last as a single person, one of the last you’d not be betrothed– or worse, married. At the end of the week, you’d be leaving on your tour. Leaving the only home you’d ever known to stay at palace after palace belonging to strangers who intended to sell you on their sons. And if there’s one thing you knew; the only thing more formidable than your citizens competing for your attention is dozens of nobles doing the same. At least your people had some sense of dignity.

Today was one of the last nights you’d be free to kid yourself into believing that, by some miracle, you’d get the fairytale ending you’ve always dreamed of. Because once you left the borders of Evermoor, there would be no returning without the burden of a ring on your finger, its center stone heavy with insurmountable expectations and a destiny you’d never get to seek.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud clink of a fork on your Handmaid's plate– a clearly theatrical gesture.

“So?” She sat her plate aside without looking away from you. When you gave her no indication that you knew what she was about to broach, she continued, her voice casual and innocent. “How long were you planning on moping about for? I just mean to ensure we stay on schedule.”

Eyes still trained on the plate of Ratafia Cake in front of you, you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at one corner of your mouth. You gave her a thoughtful hum. “I was thinking… maybe a couple more decades? Don’t want to overdo it, of course.” You looked to her with a facetious grin.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t buying it. “That sounds about right. I wouldn’t want to waste any more precious time I can’t get back either.” She kept the dry tone, but there was evident concern on her features. Perhaps a bit of frustration as well.

Your smile faltered, the truth in her words hitting a little too close to the truth for comfort. You resorted to pushing your cake around on the small saucer, the prospect of eating suddenly much less alluring as the truth settled in your stomach like a stone. Your voice came out barely over a whisper; “What else can I do? It's not as if I have any say in the matter. I've pushed this off as long as I can. My parents…” You take an exasperated breath, “They aren’t going to budge this time.”

The pretense was dropped then, and she shifted to get comfortable, tone more serious. “I know. It's not fair the way this is happening. I hope you know I am really sorry about that.”

“I just… don't think that the way you're thinking about this is really helpful to you.” She looked off, thought for a moment, then turned back to pick the situation apart. “We can't change the situation. So the way I see it, you have a few options here.”

You placed the cake to the side then, shifting to lean against the bedpost. Part of you felt the urge to dig in your heels, to protest, but unfortunately one of your best friend’s qualities happens to be that she’s almost always right about these things. So instead, you bite your tongue, nodding for her to continue.

“Option One; you go on the tour. You grin and bear it with the suitors. And really, you’ll only be with each of them for a short time. So if they’re that terrible, you’ll be out soon enough. Don’t worry about months or years from now– just focus on getting through this part. One step at a time.” She picked up her cake again, taking a shamelessly large bite and swallowing it quickly.

“I hate that you’re being made to choose this. But think of it this way: you do get a choice if you go. You can at least focus on trying to influence things to make your life easiest. And maybe you will end up liking someone, at least enough to try. I mean, the odds are one of them won’t be completely insufferable. And if they all are, I promise to let you mope until the end of time, okay?”

That has you laughing again, turning to look at her fully. “Careful; I may actually take you up on that. I really think I’ve yet to fully realize my true potential in the field of being annoying. And as my Handmaiden, you have special privileges as my guinea pig for just that.” You give her an easy smile, leaning on one side while you pick up your cake once more.

But as you take another bite, you ponder her words carefully. As suspected, she was right once again. Most noblewomen are not as lucky as you’ve been. You made it this far without being betrothed, and even then your parents are still allowing you the choice of who to marry instead of forcing someone upon you. So while the situation is certainly unideal… she’s right to say that you still have some freedom of choice. And while small, it’s best to count your blessings whenever they come, lest it drive you mad.

“You’re right.” You pause, trying to find a way to say what you mean without sounding naive. Or worse, corny. “What I want may be out of question, but I suppose any choice is better than none.” You furrow your brow for a moment, lost in thought. “Perhaps… some of these suitors also mourn this choice. Love may be off the table, but… perhaps we can be friends–” You pause once more, laughing softly. “–who just so happen to be married.”

You’re not sure why it took you so long to reach this conclusion. After all, noble as they may be, these suitors are human just as you are. Each of them have their own thoughts, goals, desires, dreams. And perhaps, like yours, theirs is also stifled by this imposed choice. Perhaps.

“Exactly,” she replied, face brightening a bit at your change in tone. “And… well, who knows?” She shrugged, not going any further into the thought. “At any rate, it won’t necessarily hurt to have a partner in crime.”

“My, my– are you suggesting that I replace you now?” You tease her.

“Right. So what's Option Two, then?”

“Option Two; we let the kingdom burn, run away in the night and live on the lam. That one has a few kinks to work out.” She played it as straight as she could, but it was obvious from her face that she was trying to be funny.

Your laughter comes out in a snort, her words catching you by surprise. “You know what? I'm half tempted to take you up on that. But I don't think Mr. Stick-in-the-mud Equerry would go for it. Tragic.”

“Oh, forget him,” she said lightly. “We can do it on our own.” She finished the last bite of her dessert.

You try to ignore the way you immediately feel guilty imagining the expression on your Equerry's face if he knew the details of this conversation. Even tonight, you had to practically beg him to take the night off so you could have this time with your Handmaiden. He's been practically glued to your side since the news of your fate reached him, ever protective of you. He means well, but… a girl needs to breathe sometimes. You can only imagine what he'd do, how he'd feel if you fled. You scrunch up your face apologetically at your Handmaiden, still smiling. “Sorry. Maybe next time.”

She laughs, shaking her head at you softly. “Seriously, though. Just try, okay? There must be some part of this that could work out for good.”

As you, too, finish the last bit of your cake, you nod solemnly in return. “Alright. I'll… try. But only because you asked me to.” You answer with an air of drama. “We should both hope this goes well. After all, he’ll soon be your problem just as much as he’ll be mine. It's your neck on the block too,” You joke.

“Don't I know it,” she replied, and collected the dish back from you. “And God help us both.”

“We just don’t want you to be so… dismissive. Alright, dear? Give them a chance. They just might surprise you. You’ve been so picky, and we won’t tolerate a repeat of last time.”

The words of your Father hit your ears like an arrow, and you’re rearing back to spit a harsh retort when you feel your Equerry place a steadying hand on your shoulder, just out of view of your parents across from you both. Looking at him, he gives you a sympathetic smile that does little to alleviate your anger, but it succeeds in holding you back if only because you hate fighting with your parents in front of him. (It stresses him out having to play the middle-man when he wants to have your back with no question.)

So you take a deep breath, letting your Father’s words linger in the air of the carriage, which suddenly felt hopelessly stuffy.

It wasn’t fifteen minutes later that the carriage slowed to a stop, signaling the end of your journey to meet the first of your suitors. Your heartbeat quickened, and as your attendant opened the door to the carriage, the sun pricked at your eyes.

While you waited as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you noticed an unfamiliar hand reaching into your carriage, offering for you to grab to assist you out. “May I help you, Your Highness?”

And though it felt like diving into frigid waters in the black of night, you took the stranger’s hand.

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kuroyuki-kokuyoku · 5 months ago

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Random TCF Related Thought - Fairy Tales

In canon proper, we know that fairy tales do exist in Nameless 1, or at least, fiction geared towards children.

Well, I was reading some TCF React fics and found a hilarious moment where Heni!KRS was explaining fairy tales to Cale's kids and was shooketh to find out that Cale had butchered some of Earth's classic fairy tales into loosely-based-on stories (to put it gently) cuz apparently the "princess-in-distress" trope would not be relatable if every princess IRL they know could easily save themselves in a simailar or same situation. Therefore, Badass Action Girl!Princesses FTW.

Where am I going with this?

So my shower thought is that Cale one day decided to invoke his inner Brothers Grimm and published his own book series based off of Earth's classic fairy tales.

But here's the twist: He uses the Walt Disney versions but made every Disney Princess BAMFs.

Sorry, Mr. Walt Disney. Your own versions of Earth's classic fairy tales were a product of your time, but your 50s sensibilities won't fly when all of the princesses Cale knows can easily break a full grown man man in tiny little pieces, physically, spiritually, and emotionally. Besides, he wants little girls like On and Lily to have strong female role models to aspire to be even if it's in fiction.

Sleeping Beauty? Aurora is based on Roselyn. She finds out that she got cursed by Maleficent, who is a whole Dragon that her father had offended by failing to invite her to his unborn daughter's christening like he promised, so she threw away her status as crown princess to become a mage out of spite and break the curse on her own. In the end, she succeeds and managed to tracked down Maleficent to her lair. Maleficent is so impressed by her moxie that the Dragon took her on as an apprentice. By the time, Prince Phillip shows up hoping to slay the Dragon and take Aurora back to his kingdom so they can be married, the story is already over.

Beauty and the Beast? Belle is the village chief's daughter and the most beautiful girl in the tribe. Belle is a Tiger and Lion mixed-blood Beastman and also pining after the cute human bookworm named Adam in the next village over. Dorph the greater value Gaston can go fuck himself for all she cares. TLDR: Role Reversal AU and Belle is Dark Tiger!Alberu.

Cinderella? Cinderella is a secretly a Shaman. Everything is the same up until the whole dress ruining scene. After that, Cinderella invokes the spirit of Queen Jopis, stopped giving a shit, and turned the rest of the plot into a shitshow. Her evil stepfamily is given the OG!Brothers Grimm treatment.

Pocahontas? Everything is the same except the Powhatans are all Elves. Ratcliffe is the White Bitchless.

Hunchback of Notre Dame? The plot is the same, but Esmeralda is a Dark Elf, and Quasimodo is half-Dark Elf. Frollo is replaced by Adin just so he can fall off the roof a second time.

Aladdin? Jasmine is also a thief. She looted what should've been her dowry from the Sultan, her annoying suitors' wealth, Genie's lamp, Carpet from the Cave of Wonders, Aladdin's heart, and Jafar aka the White Hobo Looking's dignity and respect, not in that order, then whisked Aladdin off of his bare feet and away to her own personal kingdom. Basically, Cale reimagined her as Fem!Hong Gildong.

The Little Mermaid? Romeo and Juliet with a happy ending where Prince Eric is a Whale Prince and Ariel is still a Mermaid, and both their families got scammed into finally burying the hatchet by Ursula.

Snow White and the Seven Dwarves? Snow White is a Dwarf too, and the plot is basically an otome where she has seven suitors from different tribes, and the Evil Queen (*couch*Elisneh*cough*) is, of course, the jealous villainess.

Brave: Everything's the same except Sayeru gets abused more than Mor'du in this book.

Frozen: Everything's the same except Prince Hans is swapped out for Sir Bernard cuz Hans the goodest butler doesn't deserve to be associated with scum.

Tangled: Everything's the same except it's Adin who takes a swan dive off of the tower.

Mulan: Everything's the same except the Huns are replaced by Arm.

#trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #lcf #tcf #random thoughts #shower thoughts #headcanons #cale being a dad #cale basically plagiarizing Disney movies by essentially writing fanfiction #Disney princess whom? only Henituse princesses #all princesses are queens #badass women #all the villains may or may not be based on members of Arm #still going strong on disrespecting He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Properly-Named in all my TCF related posts

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