#may the Maiden forgive you

[justpked]

Today is May 13th.

You know what that means. Here is what was promised a long time ago.

Happy birthday, you bastard. May the Maiden forgive you for your sins.

I swear if someone finds a bug, I WILL cry

Happy Birthday, Asol

[thewritetofreespeech]

kinktober: frottage

tags: frottage, making out, secret relationship, targaryen incest [aemond/rhaenyra's daughter], immense pinning by aemond

-------------------------------⚔️--------------------------------

“Where is Aemond?”

“I do not know your grace,” Larys replied. Remaining calm in the Queens frustration. She had been hunting for her middle son for hours, and he was no where to be found. “I have checked with the guards and sentries, and no one has seen him leave by Vahgar or horse.”

“So, he must still be in the city.” Alicent deduced. Hoping he was still in the castle as well. “The conclave starts soon, and we need…a united front for the court.” The plan to weave her family’s place to the crown was to start today. First, but claiming Driftmark back from Rhaenyra's brood. Then, with them illegitimized, start making the case that Aegon should be king. “He knows how important today is. How could he do this to me?!”

“The prince is nothing but a servant to duty.” Larys assured her. He may not see eye-to-eye with the prince, at least with the one he had left, but the Lord did respect that he seemed committed to his family and their goal. “I’m sure he will come out of hiding eventually.”

In a further, deeper part of the castle, indeed hidden away from all those who had not truly explored it, Aemond laid sequestered with his maiden. Marveling at her beauty in the low light between kisses. Beads of sweat forming at the back of his neck from the warmth of the candles in the small space and their hot, panting breath. Bucking against each other with soft gasps & grunts in the nest he had built for them

“We have to go.” His lady insisted. For the umpteenth time, yet neither one of them had made a legitimate effort to move.

“No, no. Not yet.”

Aemond didn’t want to go back to the ‘real world’. A world where his family and hers were fighting. Where the rift between them seemed to grow every day. Separating them. Lines in the sand now a chasm that seemed impossible to overcome.

He also knew what was to happen today to Rhaenyra's bastards, and that she might not forgive him for his part in the plot of disinheriting her brothers. Aemond wanted to stay here a little longer, where she wouldn’t be mad at him.

“People will be looking for us.” She told him as he moved to her neck, which was freely given.

“They’ll never find us.” It had taken him years to find this place and even then it had been difficult to remember where the opening was until he had committed it to memory.

“Oh yes. Because you’re so clever. Ow!” His lady yipped but then moaned when he bit at her neck. A true Targaryen. Wanting a little pain with her pleasure.

“We should just leave and never come back.”

He’d made the offer before. To take their dragons and ride until they reach new land. Conquer it like their ancestors. Build a new kingdom, instead of being stuck in this conflicting one.

Yet, every time, she just laughed it off as a joke like she did now. Not realizing the seriousness of how much he wanted to leave, and never come back, and just be the two of them in the world. “You would miss the tarts too much if we left. Come on. Let’s get going.”

Aemond finally let her go, though disappointed about it, and let her right herself.

In the right light, her mused hair and clothes looked like she had been riding. No one would think where Rhaenyra's Targaryen jewel had truly been. In the arms of her scorned, much less beloved uncle. His cock throbbed in his breeches. Desperate to make her truly his, but he would not take such liberties. Aemond would not tarnish their jewel nor besmirch her honor. He loved her too much for that. That’s why he wanted her to run away with him, so they could be together. Growing up in a world beloved & adored, she does not see that her parents will never allow them to marry. Never allow them to be happy. Their jewel will be given to someone politically inclined to help secure her mother’s place on the throne, and Aemond would be unhappy & unfulfilled.

He would join the Watch before he call anyone but her wife.

Righted and upright, Aemond tucked a lock of silver behind her ear. Marveling at the affection reflected in her eyes. “Will you see me later? After the conclave?”

“Of course.” She told him. Her earnest something he wanted to hold on to. “Here, or somewhere else before dinner?”

“Here.” Where he could pretend. And if he spoke his words sweet enough maybe she would take him up on his offer to finally run away.

They exit their nook and depart. Her back to her family and Aemond to his. His mother found him readily enough, given how frantically at this point she had been looking for him, and asked where he had been.

“Day dreaming.” Was all he told her. It was a peculiarly enough answer that it halted all further questions from his mother and left him to get ready for the meeting.

After today, his daydreams where all he might have left. Let him keep them for a little while longer at least.

[auspicioustidings]

Savage

Summary: Request for some Scottish warrior Soap taking an English maiden as a prize.

Words: 3.7k

CWs: Violent non-con (I am so serious, do not ready this if it's not your thing), hardcore smut

–

Authors Note: This is very much a rape fantasy. Traditionally rape fantasies have historical grounding in minorities who felt ashamed of their own desires so had to fantasise a situation in which they were blameless for engaging in a stigmatised action because it was forced. It’s sort of where a lot of the noncon trope in bodice rippers comes from because women in unhappy marriages need a fantasy in which they can get rid of the shame for wanting passionate or rough sex because they imagine they fought against it. A lot more people have rape fantasies than people generally realise and truly a miniscule barely there number of them would ever think it was ok to actually assault someone. All that to say, this is not me condoning anything in real life. If you find fantasies like this don’t do it for you, then do not read it, but don’t then shame people who do. There is psychology behind why people fantasise about these things, it’s pretty normal and you don’t need to be worried that it is some moral failing. Mind your business.

It was a miraculously good match for you, a high ranking soldier of the King’s army. You were technically of noble blood, but just barely. You lived simply, not in a large house but in a small village where you held no sway over anyone else and were treated as common. But the village was close to the border between England and Scotland and every day it became more tense as whispers of raids from villages to the West skittered between houses like rats.

You didn’t know how your uncle had made arrangements for this beneficial marriage for you, but it would get you moving South in a few days time to marry and then you would finally be able to relax with this war much further away from you. You had heard horror stories of what happened to young maidens when savages came pillaging. They said that they didn’t wear anything under those kilts, they said it was to make it easy to bury their cocks in any hot hole they could find. They said they didn’t have any tame qualities, not like the English. Scottish men were feral, the comparison to dogs not holding water because at least dogs could be trained. 

When you retreated to bed you got on your knees to say your prayers. As always you had to beg forgiveness for the licentious thoughts that sent thrills straight to your cunt whenever you thought about the images all those rumours put in your head.

–

The noise of chaos woke you in a panic, heart hammering against your ribcage as the smell of smoke drifted on the air and war cries sounded. You recognised your own kinfolk of course, the battalion of soldiers stationed here to keep eyes on the border. But it was the cries of those animals from the country to the North that sent you scrambling out of bed in only your chemise, knowing you had to run and hide before they could see you.

You slipped out of the bedroom, a frightened little rabbit looking for a burrow to hop into. The smell of smoke was stronger in the main room and you could see the orange glow of flames through the window. Going outside would be a risk, but hiding in here may get you burned to a crisp should this building be lit up. You did not have time to make the decision as the door burst off of its hinges, a muscular man in a blood spattered kilt with a warrior's mohawk and wild eyes panting like a dog as he caught sight of you.

You were frozen, unable to even breathe. And then after a beat his mouth stretched into a horrid manic grin as he bounded towards you. That finally shifted you from freeze to flight as you scrambled back through to the bedroom, trying to get to the small window. You threw the top half of your body through the gap but his rough hands grabbed your naked ankles and yanked you back, hard. You felt the chemise catch on the window frame, the fabric bunching up to completely expose you to him before he let go of your ankles letting you crash to the ground. 

Your knees throbbed from the hard floor and by the time you were trying to crawl away he had his hand in your hair, brutally pulling your head up and craning it to look at him leaning over and getting into your face.

“Hear I have a wee noble bitch on my hands.”

Of course he would know. There were families here who would tell them anything to save themselves and pointing them in the direction of a noble maiden, one who was betrothed to an English soldier at that, would certainly be information that could spare them. The shouts outside sounded more heavily weighted towards those in his own gruff and growling accent now. The English soldiers were losing.

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about ser” you cried gently, not knowing how else to save yourself. 

“Bonnie words” he growled, pulling so sharply at your hair that you thought your scalp might be bleeding and using his other hand to grope meanly at one of your breasts through the rough fabric of your nightwear.

You cried out, feeling the tears immediately spill over and stream down your face. He was so strong, you could barely budge against his hold, and he reeked of blood and fire and sweat and hot arousal. You squeezed your eyes shut and he only growled at you.

“Ye’ll keep those eyes open, yer going tae watch yer wee English cunt take me like a whore or I’ll take yer tight arse instead.”

You choked on a sob and opened your eyes, seeing that his were full of sick glee and heat. The hand groping at your tits moved under the chemise to cup roughly at your sex and he pulled you to your feet by that hand. You screamed at how it felt as he abused you with his hand, grinding the heel against you. You felt a hot flood of bitter shame as he swiped a finger violently through your folds. What he found there made him pause for a moment, his face lighting up in unrestrained glee.

“Fucking English slut. Y’er dripping.”

You had heard women who said it would be better to be wet if they were to be taken against their will. You did not agree. Him knowing that your traitorous body found his rough abuse of it arousing was so humiliating you felt you would rather die. He was so oppressive in his demeanour, so big and aggressive above you that you imagined he may break your bed with what he was about to do to you. How foolish of you to think he would have that level of mercy.

“Going tae show all those bastards how their women take Scottish cock” he laughed, spearing two fingers inside you to their full length with no softness at all and pulling you by them.

You could not breathe. You had never had anything inside you and those two fat fingers felt like they were stretching you so much you would tear. He walked backwards so he could keep them firmly inside you and you stumbled pathetically after him, needing to keep as close to him as possible to stop the painful press against your walls that came from him pulling if you did not move. 

The shame was overwhelming as you emerged, full of his fingers and stumbling after him with tears streaming down your face, to find that your country's soldiers had been defeated with the survivors on their knees, hands bound. You were being paraded in front of them you realised, they had been put right here in the town square so they could bear witness, the Scottish soldiers standing behind them feral and full of lust as they took in their leader pulling you in front of them by the cunt. 

When he ripped his fingers out of you, your knees buckled and a high whine left you. You had went from feeling too full to feeling far, far too empty. You could barely hear anything but the blood rushing through you as your heart hammered. That and him as he taunted the soldiers on their knees. 

“Our women would ne’er let ye touch them, they’d die first. Yer clean wee English princess on the ither hand?” he said, planting a booted foot to your chest and pushing until he had you pinned on your back underfoot, “she’s gagging fir it. Foaming at the gusset tae take strong Scottish cock, put a real warrior in her belly.”

His own men cheered at that and you watched on with horror as he cocked his head at one of them and he began to approach you. 

“Naw a monster though am I my wee slut? Ye’d be wet enough fir one of their small English cocks nae doubt, but fir mine? Going tae need something to help me sink in good and deep.”

The other soldier went to his knees between your legs and you watched as he pulled his throbbing cock from under his kilt, jerking it violently. You tried to move away, his cock so close you could feel the heat of it between your legs, but the boot on your chest held you still. When you tried to close your legs the man touching himself used his other hand to wrench one of your knees until it was touching the ground, using his own knees between your thighs to help him keep your glistening cunt fully on display.

When the head of his cock stroked through your folks, slicking you with his pre-cum and bumping at your clit, you were so overwhelmed that you didn’t quite manage to bite back your moan. They laughed meanly at you as the man found his release, spurting hot cum all over your pussy, smacking his cock against your stomach when he was done to shake off the last drops.

It was filthy, you felt sticky and like you were on fire. The next soldier took his place and spat right on your already disgusting cunt as he began to stroke himself. By the time he had painted you with his seed and the third was started, the man above pressed his foot harder to get your attention and all you could do was stare up into his taunting eyes, trying to focus on him so you could not think of what was going on between your legs. You cried up at him, trying to find any level of sympathy in him.

“Keep crying and I’ll gie ye something tae cry about princess.”

Oh you hated him calling you that when you were pinned down in the dirt, defeated soldiers of your country watching as their enemies smeared their cum all over your exposed body. Watching as they made a sloppy mess out of you in preparation for their leader to shove his cock deep inside and pump you full of his savage children.

You did not know how long you stared up at him, not able to look away as you felt the heat of his men on your body, your own body getting hotter and hotter with each slide of velvety throbbing skin against your own. He had started to talk to you, his eyes not budging. It wasn’t the defeated soldiers he was taunting, it was you, ruined and disgraced under his boot.

“See how good I am tae ye little whore? Letting my men make ye flush wi pleasure. Don’t deny it, think I cannae see yer face whenever ye feel a cock on that wee untouched pussy? Like a fucking bitch in heat. I’ll fuck ye like one. Get ye on yer hands and knees so ye can look yer precious King’s soldiers in the eye when ye fall apart on my cock. When ye’r fucking begging for my cum. Wilnae even have tae dae any work, ye’ll be fucking yourself back on me ye needy slut.”

You shook your head in horror at his claims, the true fear being that he would make them true. Already you felt in a daze, felt empty and desperate. But you felt fear as well as he put his arm under his kilt, rucking the fabric up to grab at his cock. It was huge and you found yourself panicked and squirming as the last of his soldiers grunted and slapped the meat of your thigh to get you to stay still. You were rambling incoherently as the man above stroked slowly at himself, causing that thick weapon between his legs to throb and seem even bigger. 

“It won’t fit, it’s not going to fit, please I’ll die, you’ll split me open. It’s so big no no I can’t, I can’t!”

You didn’t even feel the last of his soldier’s loads splatter onto you, didn’t notice when his hands left your flesh. You would have rapidly purpling skin in the shape of fingerprints all over your thighs from how you had been held still by all of them, but you could not feel the dull pain of it through your fear of what was to come.

“Ye’ll take whit I gie ye and ye’ll fucking thank me princess.”

He removed his foot and it was only then you realised that he had been pressing down hard enough that your breaths had been shallow. The rush of oxygen from being able to fully expand your lungs again made you horribly dizzy, but it also flooded right down to your clit and made your body jerk violently with the sensation. 

He didn’t take his hand from his cock and he bent so he could use the other to grab your ruined hair again, yanking your head up and shoving himself into your mouth. You choked, legs scrambling to get underneath you to give you some stability with which to batter your fists against his thighs, trying to pull away. He laughed meanly at your attempts, moving the hand that was touching himself to join the one tangled in your hair on the back of your head and pulling your head at the same time as he thrust forward, settling himself fully in your throat. 

You were gagging around him, tears really streaming down your face now as you begged him with your eyes to let you breathe. He held you there, his own eyes glittering with satisfaction, until your muscles started to give in and you felt your eyes dropping closed as your brain became cottony. Then all at once he pulled you off and you were gulping in oxygen around your coughing and sputtering, the rush much more intense this time. 

He held your head tilted up at him so he could watch your face as he shoved his boot between your legs and got you over the edge. Oh weren’t you a delicious little thing for him, getting off so hard on how he used you, moaning shakily and wantonly in the dirt beneath him in front of his triumphant soldiers and your defeated ones. 

“Good fucking girl” he growled with a feral grin, letting you ride it out with little aborted thrusts on his boot, unable to control your body. 

You looked gone, eyes glazed and body slack. Couldn’t have that, he needed you screaming for him. He needed your blood fighting between being frozen with terror and boiling with need. And he needed you full of him, needed to be able to feel his own cock through your stomach so fucking clearly that he could jerk it. 

You were thrown forward, top half of your body collapsing pathetically into the dirt right where it was covered in the sweat and cum of his soldiers. He manhandled your hips up, leaving your face crushed into the dirt and your ass up high for him, cunt presented. You felt his hot breath at your ear and it was a sudden shock when you realised he was growling lowly into your ear, his words for you and you only.

“S’going tae hurt, yer going tae scream yerself hoarse for me and then I’ll get ye tae milk me when I rip pleasure out of all that pain. Will treat ye right after little princess, like one of my good Scottish lassies, but right now ye’r my fucking English whore.”

The confusing mix of sentiments cleared some of the fuzziness from your mind but you had no time to dwell. He was right, it did hurt and you did scream yourself hoarse. He had lined himself up and plunged into you, cock coated and slick from the cum of his soldiers but no less huge inside your tight virgin pussy. He had split you in two, you were sure of it. His cock must have broken through you, was sitting in your ribcage and punching all the air from your lungs.

You blacked out for a moment, coming right back to when he pulled out to fuck brutally back into you again, slapping your ass so hard that you felt the sting all the way up to your fingertips and making you choke on the sob that fought through the screaming. He ripped at your hair, making you look at the defeated soldiers on their knees. Making you watch their own cocks swell at your treatment. Your utter ruination was making them hard. Your head being wrenched back meant you had to go to your hands as he pounded you, and you saw how they looked as one of your breasts was fucked right out of the chemise, bouncing lewdly for them to see with every hard thrust.

The humiliation had you digging into the dirt like you had claws, feeling the bite of the earth pushing under your nails. It sparked something in your brain, almost like you could see them sharpen. Like you could feel your shoulder blades become more pronounced, become something sinewy and sleek and animal. He was fucking you like a predator and you were drooling and howling and panting like his prey, back bowed as he pulled your hair harder and had to staring at the sky babbling prayers into the night air. 

“S’too much, can’t, I can’t. Full, too full.”

“Ye fucking can. Yer tight fucking cunts trying tae strangle me, wants my cum so bad naw? Perfect English pussy, so slutty and needy for a real cock” he growled, hand letting go of your hair and smacking your ass right over where he had before, causing you to howl at the pain. 

The pain and something else, something that had no place here and yet had been lingering from the moment he had caught you. Something that had been getting closer and brighter and more insistent with every abuse you were subject to. Something that he invited in when your arms collapsed beneath you without him holding your heads weight anymore and he ground your face into the ground before bringing his hand to your clit and pinching. 

Your scream was raw and hoarse, throat well past being able to produce a clear sound. The orgasm was blinding and every bone felt like it had liquified. You saw white and then you saw hardly anything, only vague shapes and colours. The only thing now was how his cock filled you. The shame was gone, replaced with the truth that you loved this. You loved how he used you like this, how he violated you in front of these soldiers just because he could.

“That’s it princess, fucking take it” he hissed, stopping his thrusts and letting you do all the work.

You didn’t even realise now how you wildly fucked yourself back on his cock trying to chase the pain of overstimulation, addicted to the way it made you feel some sick hazy pleasure. You were drooling onto the dirt, tasting the earth mixed with cum and finding the disgust of it only felt right now. When his hand came to your stomach and pushed to feel himself bulging there you came again, harder, babbling thank yous to him.

He bit out a string of curses above you as your pussy squeezed so hard it was forcing him out, but he was strong as he forced himself balls deep and held there, finding his release as you milked everything out of him and into your womb. The liquid heat of it was the last thing you felt as you passed out, blissed and fucked out of your mind. 

–

John MacTavish allowed himself a moment to lean his body against your back, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt and cum and fear and lust from your limp body. So good for him, took it perfectly. He hissed when he finally pulled out, resisting the temptation to just keep going beyond what would feel good because fuck, being inside you had been a religious experience. 

He was nothing if not a man of his word though, and he scooped your body gently into his arms to get you onto a horse and ready for him to take over the border where he could give you that princess treatment he had promised. The surviving soldiers they would leave beaten and bloodied but not dead. After all, someone had to tell your betrothed all the details.

-

“Fucking MacTavish” he hissed after excusing the man who had given the report.

He had made him give it in full detail, told him to leave nothing out. 

“Kept her alive by the sounds of it, maybe looking to get a bastard out of her” Garrick mused.

“Knowing him he’ll keep her near the border to taunt us instead of moving her further up North” Price added.

Simon Riley would not be letting his betrothed get away with allowing MacTavish of all people to take the maidenhood that rightfully belonged to him. She needed a proper punishing fuck from an English man to learn better.

“Doesn’t matter where he keeps her. I’m going to take her, and she’s going to learn what happens to sluts who spread their legs for those Scottish bastards”.

[yoonia]

Ever A Never After — story masterpost

⟶ Title | Ever a Never After (adaptation from Enchanted movie) ⟶ Summary | Growing up in the fairy tale land, your whole life seems to have been written perfectly in the books, with the picturesque life and the Prince Charming that you can see yourself having your happily ever after with. But your entire world turns upside down when you are suddenly sent into a whole new world, a different kind of universe where happily ever after doesn’t exist. Thrust into a new challenge and shown a new side of life, you find yourself standing in a crossroad. When the moment arises, would you find your way back home to your true love, or is the universe trying to show you that sometimes happy endings don’t have to be written so perfectly?

⟶ Pairings | Jungkook x female reader; Seokjin x female reader ⟶ Genre | Strangers to lovers!au, Fairy tale retelling!au, Angst, Smut ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; specific warnings will be added accordingly on each published chapters ⟶ Status / Current word count / Total word count | ONGOING; latest update: Ever A Never After: Act 2 - Part 2 (Oct 7th, 2024) - 51,865 words of n/a words  ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Feedback | Ko-fi | Music companion ⟶ Cross-posted in AO3 and Wattpad

⟶ Special Taglist: Ever A Never After

⟶ Story Note | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs). In place of the coding, you’ll find a blank space as her name. Please also note that our main character/reader insert for this story has her own nickname that will be used in the scenes. While the story is adapted from the movie, Enchanted, with some characters and places that were mentioned in the movie added into this story, I will be adding changes in the story settings, characters’ names and background stories to fit the plot. That being said, as someone who has never set foot in the land of America, forgive me if there are some inaccuracies in the details that are being added here. I hope that doesn’t change your reading experience with the story.

⟶ Chapters

⇢ Act One. Andalasia, The Maiden, and The Dream Prince [“It’s you. The boy I saw in my dreams.” “It’s me. Your Prince Charming.” | Word count: 19,688 words | posted: May 21st, 2024 | Chapter Teaser]

⇢ Act Two. The Alter World and The Saviour [“I need to find my way back to the castle.” “What castle?” “Why, of course, I’m talking about Andalasia.” “Huh, right. Why don’t I just call you an Uber?” | Word count: 32,185 words | Chapter Teaser]

— Part 1. Welcome to the Alter World [Word count: 15,410 words of 32,185 words - posted on: Sept 16th, 2024] — Part 2. The World Without Magic [Word count: 16,755 of 32,185 words - posted on: Oct 7th, 2024 ]

⇢ Act Three. Fairy Tales and Bittersweet Endings [“You forgot to say the part where you lived happily ever after.” “Happily ever after? That thing doesn’t exist, not in the real world.” | Word count: — | Chapter Teaser]

⇢ Act Four. The Ball for The Kings and Queens and Dragons [“There is a ball for the Queen and Kings at the start of spring. Shall we go together?” “As your Prince Charming, I’ll be happy to escort you.” | Word count: — | Chapter Teaser]

⇢ Act Five. Prince Charming and a Happily Never After [“Look at how the tables have turned, as now I have in my hand the Prince who is supposed to protect the princess.” “Come along now, dear. You wouldn’t want to miss the ending.” | Word count: — | Chapter Teaser]

⟶ Fic talk & references

⇢ image reference

⇢ readers feedback & discussions

⟶ Patreon specials

⇢ visual inspiration board

⇢ fic commentary (coming soon)

⟶ Author’s Note | Originally commissioned by @pinkbtsarmy | It’s finally here! I’m so sorry for taking so long with this one. Thank you so much for commissioning me and for your endless support. As mentioned in our last talk, there will be some changes from the original prompt/details that I’ve made to make the story work better, but I hope you’ll be able to enjoy it still. I have decided to release this one as a mini-series to present the timeline more appropriately and make the storyline work. Have fun reading!

— © Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.

[daportalpractitioner]

the triple goddess in astrology

the triple goddess is represented by 3 archetypes in 1 to describe the multi-layered experience of the divine feminine. they are the maiden, the mother, and the crone.

the maiden: venus

the maiden is the archetype of the young woman who is grounded in her identity, her sexuality, her gifts, her desires, and her standards. she's confident in herself and what she wants, allowing her to cultivate meaningful connections that elevate her on this soul journey. she recognizes that this is her world and you are just living in it. the sign of your venus tells you how you are meant to embody this maiden innerG.

☾⋆｡ for example, a virgo venus is meant to embody her maiden energy through being of service to herself and others with integrity. this means that she doesn't let people take advantage of her and she doesn't do shit for people with manipulative intentions. she only allows what serves her highest good into her life, from what she eats to the environments that she takes space in, because when she focuses and allows only what serves her, she is also of service to The Most High.

the mother: moon

the mother is the archetype of the woman who gives birth to her creations + nurtures them so that they can grow to sustain life on their own. this is deeper than just having kids —this applies to all creations which once started off as a desire. she is an effective nurturer because she recognizes the importance of taking care of herself first. she uses her heart space to heal her wounds through compassion + forgiveness and in turn cultivates a loving community through the love that she fosters. her first home is herself and her life is a desired reflection of everything she already holds within her. the sign of your moon tells you how you are meant to embody your inner mother innerG.

☾⋆｡ for example, a capricorn moon is meant to embody their mother innerG by reconciling the energy connected to family trauma (especially their parental relationships) and not letting their childhood traumas + resentment bleed into the way that they care for themselves and others. she doesn't add unnecessary pressure to herself and shows grace to self + others. she leads by not being too hard on herself and those that look up to her and depend on her. she trusts herself to lean into her femininity + allows others to support her instead of always being the one that others are always relying on.

the crone: saturn

the crone archetype is the wise, older woman who is a pillar in the community, being able to provide support and insight for others due to the hardships + lessons that she experienced. people look up to her as an authority figure because she has the wisdom to guide others in the right direction. she isn't distracted by what's going on in the world + uses her time wisely because she's aware that she won't be here forever. she doesn't entertain bullshit and while others may call her mean, she stands firm on her boundaries. this is that grandmotherly innerG that is very supportive + protective of our highest good by holding us accountable. the sign of your saturn is meant to show you how to embody your inner crone.

☾⋆｡ for example, a cancer saturn is meant to embody their crone by holding herself emotionally accountable to cultivate healthy connections with others. she is aware of the "generational curses" that she has karmically acquired though the bloodline and doesn't play the blame game, recognizing that it is her duty to break those curses so that those same karmic patterns aren't played out in her connections and the family that she has/will create for herself one day. she is aware of the complexity of humans + their emotions and is able to teach + heal others through her own experiences with family + other loved ones that are or were once near and dear to the heart.

[heartfullofleeches]

The Blacksmith

Yan Deity HCs [Request]

Tw: Self Harm

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- Blacksmith isn't what most would gods would consider being one of their own. For the better part of its existence, The Blacksmith has functioned akin to a machine rather than his own individual self. Acting on orders given by those above him was all he knew until the punishment of gods through extensive torture was shunned upon by many. Blacksmith was free to do as they wished, but they're generally stumped to the workings of society outside of what their created purpose.

- Love as humans and even some gods express it is unfamiliar to the Blacksmith. Their creators greatest mistakes was teaching it the painful side of love without the innocence of something puee. He was instilled with the knowledge that any sign of weakness should not be allowed. That being said, a strange warm fills its chest whenever you treat it kindly. He does not deserve the gesture- Are you toying with it because you truly believe he is beneath you?

"My Lord.... I do not understand the purpose of this so called "hug" you have bestowed upon me.... I did not ask you to stop."

- There is no room for error in Blacksmith's eyes. As he adapts to the mortal understanding of affection, Blacksmith showers you with gifts and gestures to prove they are willing to even the playing field with you. If he brings you something you are allergic to or simply not a fan of its wise to keep sharp objects from him until you can calm him down and assure him it was a common mistake.

"May the spill of my blood grant me your forgiveness.. Had I heard you clearer I would not have made this mistake."

"It's cool, dude- Pizza is pizza."

- The Blacksmith is immortal and heals relatively quickly, which is why if you bother to patch them up when they do get hurt their brain just kinda shortcuts for a while. You are the mortal in the situation. Those supplies would be better saved for you. Is this what it means to care for another out of the generosity of one's heart(s)? Is this love? Logically, when you are injured they must return the sentiment.

"Please hold still, My Lord. The cast is almost complete."

"Isn't this a bit excessive? It was only a splinter."

"... Negative."

- The Blacksmith has a hidden profession of making music boxes. It is a tad embarrassed due to the macabre nature of the other objects it creates, but as they learn more if your world it develops a small obsession with the melodies they produce and their mechanisms. He leaves ones he is most proudest of in your bedroom - expecting you to somehow have no clue how it ended up there.

- Blacksmith can easily remove their helmet - they just don't want to. He has been described as beautiful by gods who have met it after the incident due to their eyes, but as for the appearance of its face as a whole no-one knows. It wears the iron maiden to atone for its sin of nearly condemning an innocent god, but it also believes those gods were liars and that its face will disgust you. If you argue back that are gorgeous regardless of if you've seen it or not, The Blacksmith has no choice but to take your word as truth since they trust you not to lie to them.

- Enjoys classical music. Cannot dance to save it's own skin, but would greatly admire your dancing no matter your skill level.

- One rule you must keep in mind is to not give Blacksmith access to the Internet. He will absorb modern lingo and relationship advice like a sponge. It confuses him greatly, but considering you are from this time it might be the key to winning your heart.

"Have a good day at work...Pookie."

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Galadriel in Season 1-2 of “Rings of Power”: Valiant, Prideful and the Darkness Within

Galadriel was born during the Years of the Trees, on Valinor, the only daughter of High King of the Noldor, Finarfin, sister to three brothers. She was named “Artanis” by her father, and “Galadriel” (Sindarin for “Maiden crowned with gleaming hair”) is the name she took after marrying prince Celebron, in Doriath (Middle-earth).

In her youth, Galadriel was known for her proud, strong and self-willed temperament, and for the unmatched beauty of her hair. She had the golden hair of her kin, but hers was particularly striking, shot with silver, and beautiful. And so much so that Fëanor was inspired by how the light of the Two Trees of Valinor caught her hair to craft the Silmarils. Three times he asked her for a few strands of it, and three times Galadriel refuse him. Galadriel couldn’t stand Fëanor and saw the growing darkness in him; most likely because it was the same as within herself.

Tolkien describes Galadriel as “of Amazon disposition”, “strong of body, mind and will, a match for both the loremasters and the athletes of the Eldar in the days of their youth”, and she would “bound up her hair as a crown when taking part in athletic feats”. Her mother called her Nerwen, “man-maiden”.

Departure from Valinor

Galadriel is adventurous, ambitious “and like her brother Finrod, of all her kindred the nearest to her in heart, she had dreams of far lands and dominions that might be her own to order as she would without tutelage [from the Valar]”.

Galadriel, the only woman of the Noldor to stand that day tall and valiant among the contending princes, was eager to be gone [from Valinor]. No oaths she swore, but the words of Fëanor concerning Middle-earth had kindled her heart, and she yearned to see the wide untrodden lands and to rule there a realm at her own will. For the youngest of the House of Finwë she came into the world west of the Sea, and knew yet nought of the unguarded lands. Morgoth’s Ring

In Unfinished Tales, Tolkien tells us Galadriel wanted to leave Valinor and travel to Middle-earth to exercise her talents; being brilliant in mind and swift in action she had early absorbed all of what she was capable of the teaching which the Valar thought fit to give the Eldar’, and she felt confined in the tutelage of Aman. In Valinor, Galadriel had been a pupil of both Aulë and Yavanna, and felt the Valar had already taught her everything they were allowed to.

This can look like a level of arrogance of the likes of Fëanor, however, this is not how Tolkien sees it. Galadriel is presented like a character full of potential, spirit and talent. And even Manwë, the King of the Valar himself, has heard of her desire to leave for Middle-earth and didn’t oppose.

Refusing the Valar pardon

At the end of the First Age she [Galadriel] proudly refused forgiveness or permission to return. Tolkien Letter 320

And this is the Galadriel we meet in the first episode of “Rings of Power”. The audience can immediately perceive she’s strong-willed, proud and rebellious, acting against orders of the High-king of the Noldor, Gil-galad, in her endless hunt for Sauron, Morgoth’s sucessor and the responsible for her brother’s death.

Galadriel is also the only Elf in Middle-earth who believes that Sauron is still out there, and means to find and destroy him, at any cost. “More and more of our kind began to believe that Sauron was but a memory. And the threat, at last, was ended. I wish I could be one of them.”

It was not your company who defied you out there, but rather you who defied the High King, by refusing to heed any limit placed upon you. In an act of magnanimity, he has chosen to honor your accomplishments… Rather than dwell upon your insolence. Test him again and you may find him less receptive than you might have hoped. Elrond warns Galadriel, 1x01

Gil-galad “honors” Galadriel by granting her passage to return to Valinor, and rest in glory. But she’s set on refusing, not because she’s certain Sauron will return, and wants to find him, but due to her belief she won’t find inner peace, until she accomplishes that, as she tells Elrond in the same episode:

Elrond: Do you truly believe seeking him out will satisfy you? That one more Orc upon the point of your blade will bring you peace? […] If you are wrong, will you lead more Elves to die in far-off lands? To convince yourself you have done enough, how many more statues would you add to this path? No one in history has ever refused the call. Do so now, it may never come again. Do so now, it may never come again. You will linger here, an outcast, poisoned in dark whispers and dreams. Galadriel: And in the West, do you think my fate would be better? Where song would mock the cries of battle in my ears? You say I have won victory over all the horrors of Middle-earth. Yet you would leave them alive in me? To take with me? Undying, unchanging, unbreaking, into the land of winter less spring? Elrond: Only in the Blessed Realm can that which is broken in you be healed. Go there. Go, and I promise you… If but a whisper of a rumor of the threat you perceive proves true, I will not rest until it is put right. You have fought long enough, Galadriel. Put up your sword.

I would also like to point out Elrond foreshadowing Galadriel’s banishment in this scene. And this is very much in line with what Tolkien wrote:

[Galadriel] had no peace within. Pride still moved her when, at the end of the Elder Days after the final overthrow of Morgoth, she refused the pardon of the Valar for all who had fought against him, and remained in Middle-earth. It was not until two long ages more had passed, when at last all she had desired in her youth came to her hand, the Ring of Power and the dominion of Middle-earth of which she had dreamed, that her wisdom was full grown and she rejected it, and passing the last test departed from Middle-earth forever. The Peoples of Middle-earth

The Darkness Within

“Rings of Power” presents some explanations to Galadriel refusing the Valar’s pardon and staying in Middle-earth. At the surface, it’s because she wants to hunt down Sauron, defeat him, and for Halbrand to be “The Lost King” who could ride [her] to victory, like Elrond says, in 2x02.

It’s because of her pride, or her desire for vengeance. However, in 1x05, and in a moment of vulnerability with Halbrand aka Repentant Mairon, she reveals the true reason behind her restless pursuit of Sauron:

Galadriel sees her endless pursue for Sauron as the means to earn her inner peace after everything she saw, did and endured on Middle-earth. It’s connected to her pride, yes, but also to her greatest and deepest desire of healing. And this is why she can’t stop her pursuit, even when we, the audience, watch Galadriel endanger her companions’ lives in 1x01. She believes only when she destroys Sauron, will she destroy the darkness within herself.

Indeed he does, because Sauron wants to heal Middle-earth from Morgoth’s corruption, at this point in his own character arc. But the “darkness within” has been present in Galadriel’s character ever since the prologue of “Rings of Power”, and this is also in line with Tolkien legendarium, as Galadriel recognizes the darkness in others as a mirror to her own, and how she refuses to talk about her time in Valinor with Melian.

And in Season 1, we see Galadriel employing some questionable tactics; in Númenor she acts behind Halbrand’s back with Queen regent Míriel to get herself an army (the army she claims to Adar Sauron promised her, in 2x06), and travel to the Southlands and defeat Sauron. There, she vows to genocide the Orcs and killing some of them in a gruesome manner (bringing them into the sunlight) just for Adar to reveal Sauron’s whereabouts, even though he already told her the truth (as he knows it): he killed Sauron.

It would seem I'm not the only Elf alive who has been transformed by darkness. Perhaps your search for Morgoth's successor should have ended in your own mirror. Adar taunts Galadriel, 1x06

And Adar will not be the only character to mention the pull to the darkness in Galadriel, in “Rings of Power”:

The light of Valinor shone upon your very face, Galadriel, and you turned your back on it. Was it truly to fight the darkness or was the darkness calling to you? Elrond, 2x01

This is more noticeable with Repentant Mairon aka Halbrand, when she acts the “Morgoth” to his “Sauron”, by tempting him with power while he’s on a quest for redemption. By then, we already have some pieces of foreshadowing on this. We have Gil-galad’s prophecy in 1x01: “We foresaw that if it had, she [Galadriel] might have inadvertently kept alive the very evil she sought to defeat [Sauron]. For the same wind that seeks to blow out a fire may also cause its spread.”

And we also see Galadriel in connection with the Fall of Númenor visions, in Season 1:

And Mairon himself confirms this in 1x08. And that explains his “are they not the seeds you planted?” in Season 2. Because she’s the one who tempted him with power, and with the pouch of the King of the Southlands (Morgoth), when he wanted to remain in Númenor in servitude, and to prove his good faith to the Valar, and redeem himself from his crimes under Morgoth.

However, not only Galadriel established a connection with him, but also said “I’ve felt it too” when he expressed his wish to bind himself to her (“Fighting at your side, I... I felt... If I could just hold on to that feeling, keep it with me always, bind it to my very being, then I...”). She gave him the validation he wanted, and made him believe she would offer him forgiveness, and he would earn the redemption he so desperately wanted. But she didn’t, she cast him out. And he wouldn’t let it slide that easily, as we’ve been in Season 2.

Growing in Wisdom

In Season 2, we saw some glimpses of Galadriel letting go of her arrogance and “galloping”, and seeing the “bigger picture” in some occasions. This is foreshadowing for her future character arc, as the wise and compassionate, yet fierce and valiant, leader we know her to be on the Third Age. From Tolkien lore, we know that as she grows in wisdom and power (“elf magic” as Sam calls it), Galadriel will leave her pride behind.

Arondir. There is a dearth of Elven heroes this night. It would be a pity to lose another. Galadriel advises Arondir not to attack Adar, 2x07

But perhaps her last scene with Adar, in 2x08, was the most emblematic of this. She has been to the Orc camp, and witnessed the funeral rites, and how the Orcs live, and realized that, maybe, they aren’t the scourged slaves she believed them to be, back in Season 1. Each one of them has a personality. Like Adar told her, in 1x06: “We are creations of The One, Master of the Secret Fire, the same as you. As worthy of the breath of life, and just as worthy of a home.”

And Galadriel is becoming more attuned to every race in Middle-earth, and the Orcs were only the beginning. And she was willingly to make an alliance with Adar, at the end. They shared an agreement (until Sauron showed up and put an end to that). But more importantly, Adar forgives Galadriel for her hatred and her killing of the Orcs. And, as I’ve talked about on my post on Repentant Mairon (aka Halbrand), forgiveness is a major theme in Tolkien legendarium, and it’s not only earned, but given as well. And by forgiving Galadriel and returning Nenya to her, Adar redeems himself (just like Gollum; which is a theme I talked about here).

Banishment from Valinor

In Letter 353, Tolkien confirms that “Galadriel was 'unstained': she had committed no evil deeds”, concerning the Oath of Fëanor. She took no part in any of that; because “she was an enemy of Fëanor”. In the same letter, Tolkien tells us Galadriel reached Middle-earth independently, and not alongside the other Noldor. And her desires were legitimate, but “she became involved in the desperate measures of Manwë, and the ban on all emigrations”.

Many (Christopher Tolkien included) think this contradicts Galadriel’s banishment from returning to Valinor. But this is an idea (“the banishment of Galadriel”) Tolkien has in place in several sources of his work. And it wouldn’t be the first time Christopher Tolkien misinterpreted his father work, either, with the Dagor Dagorath being a prime example, when he thinks Tolkien abandoned the concept when he didn’t (Christopher later corrected this, though).

And it has been noticed by many Tolkien scholars how Christopher Tolkien has “tone down” his father’s female characters on his notes and editions, too. With Galadriel being a prime example of this. Tolkien tells us on several occasions that Galadriel had aspirations of power and dominion, she wanted a kingdom of her own, to rule as she saw fit, and that’s why she remained on Middle-earth, and refused the Valar’s pardon. However, Christopher decided to strip Galadriel of her agency, and even attempted to whitewash her character by claiming she wanted to stay on Middle-earth due to her love for Celeborn, when this has nothing to do with what Tolkien himself wrote. So, excuse me, for talking his interpretation with a grain of salt.

And, since Galadriel is married to Celeborn, of course, he’s included on her plans of having a kingdom of her own (to be otherwise wouldn’t make sense), with them both ruling it, but Galadriel wants to be the one “calling the shots”. And this dynamic is what will happen in Lothlórien: Celeborn is lord, but Galadriel is *the* Lady, without her husband overstep or overshining her. I’m not seeing any contradiction here. Maybe a case of “overthinking”, because Letter 353 appears to be about Galadriel not taking the Oath of Fëanor (and that’s not the reason for her banishment).

I owe much of this character to Christian and Catholic teachings and imagination of Mary, but actually Galadriel was a penitent, in her youth, a leader in the rebellion against the Valar (the angelic guardians). At the end of the First Age she proudly refused forgiveness or permission to return. She was pardoned because of her resistance to the final and overwhelming temptation to take the [One] Ring for herself. Tolkien Letter 320

I already theorized about Galadriel connection to the Virgin Mary (she’s not “the Virgin Mary”, but a “devotee of the Virgin Mary” in Tolkien lore) but I think Tolkien is being very clear with his words here. He considers Galadriel a “repentant sinner”, and he doesn’t contradict himself at all. Because a desire for power and dominion are not positive traits on his legendarium. And the confirmation that she was pardoned by the Valar when she resists the One Ring, clearly indicates there was something more at work, and is connected with her return to Valinor.

In “Fellowship of the Ring” book, this is also clear: “I pass the test,” she says, “I will diminish, and go into the West, and remain Galadriel.” Her “passing the test” and resisting the One Ring is connected with her returning to Valinor.

We know, from Tolkien lore, Galadriel develops ��sea longing” on the Third Age, and has a deep desire to return to Valinor, to the point of depression (she sings laments about it). One can argue she stays out of duty, but then why is she “pardoned” by the Valar after rejecting the One Ring and can now go to Valinor? The only explanation is that Galadriel was, indeed, banished, and her resisting the One Ring is her final test. She passes the test, the Valar pardon her, her banishment is lifted, and she returns to Valinor at the end of “The Return of the King”. No contradictions there.

On Christopher’s defense, he probably thought Galadriel “desiring power and dominion” weren’t good enough reasons for her to be banished from Valinor, and that’s a plot hole “Rings of Power” is trying to answer, with her connection with Sauron, and the temptations he offers her. He is, after all, the one who introduces the “desire for power and dominion” to her character arc in the show; by offering her temptations and promises of endless power (his power). Which means, Galadriel’s desire for dominion and power from Tolkien lore is personified by Sauron in the show. And the reason for her banishment, will be, also, connected to him, somehow, for Sauron has already offered her the same temptation as the One ring, thousands of years into the future:

And now at last it comes. You will give me the Ring freely! In place of the Dark Lord you will set up a Queen. And I shall not be dark, but beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the earth. All shall love me and despair! She lifted up her hand and from the ring that she wore there issued a great light that illumined her alone and left all else dark. She stood before Frodo seeming now tall beyond measurement, and beautiful beyond enduring, terrible and worshipful. Fellowship of the Ring

In Tolkien legendarium, it’s not Galadriel adventurous or valiant nature that gets her into trouble with the Valar, but her rebellious spirit, and her pride, above of all, that lead her defy their authority, and wanting to claim a kingdom of her own where she can make her own rules. In “Rings of Power” the disapproval of the Valar are personified in the characters of Gil-galad and Elrond.

Indeed, her disregard for the Valar laws is visible on several occasions in lore. Not only she “proudly refused” their pardon to return to Valinor, at the dawn of the Second Age, but Tolkien tells us, in Unfinished Tales: Celeborn was the lover of Galadriel, who she later wedded. In Letter 43, Tolkien defines what he means by “a lover” (in general): “engaging and blending all his affections and powers of mind and body in a complex emotion powerfully coloured and energized by sex”.

This seems to imply, Galadriel didn’t wait to be “officially” married (ceremony, feast) to Celeborn before consummating their union. For the Eldar, “sex = marriage”, indeed, but the way Tolkien phrases this seems to indicate Galadriel doesn’t concern herself with the Eldar ways, and took Celeborn as her lover before any thought of actual marriage. Because language is extremely important in Tolkien, and we already know “sex = marriage” for the Eldar, so him writing this about Galadriel’s character means there’s something more to it.

Interestingly enough, these two themes are present in Tolkien last letter concerning Galadriel, in 1973 (the year of his passing). Without context, however, it’s unclear if the two are related or not, so read this with a whole saltshaker:

I meant right away to deal with Galadriel, and with the question of Elvish child-bearing.

[knight-of-flowerss]

BLOOD SACRIFICE

Vampire!Benjicot 'Davos' Blackwood x Septa!Reader

There will be smut so Minors DNI 18+

SNIPPET OF ONE OF THE THREE STORIES!

Synopsis: Many say the church can protect you against evil, that’s a lie. You pray to the Seven for forgiveness and protection, but they do not grant it. The stranger himself gets invited into the church, what will you do when he bears his fangs and gives you the choice between death or lust?

The stained glass shines from the illumination of the moon, the light refracting and casting shadows. My veil covers my hair, billowing down my back and coating the floor in the laced fabric.

My hand clutches my rosary, my mouth moving fast as I mutter prayers to the Seven. There had been talks of a monster amongst us. Murders of young, vulnerable women had become the new town myth, they say a Vampire.

Yes, a Vampire apparently walks amongst us. Ridiculous but precautions must be maintained.

We do not know if the Vampire is tall or short. Young or old. Pretty or ugly. All we know is that there is someone with a bloodlust amongst us.

My prayers are dedicated to the Seven, specifically the Warrior. I prayed to him for protection, to help rid us of this foul disease plaguing the Riverlands.

"I pray to the Warrior for protection and bravery, give me strength and safety and I will forever be in your debt." I mutter, my eyes closed and mind blank, only focusing on the words I’m speaking and which of the Seven I am praying to.

After praying to the Warrior, the Father, Mother, Maiden, the Crone and even the Smith, I go to pray to the Stranger, but something stops me.

I hear a scratch on wood. I stop my prayer for a few seconds, listening to hear. Nothing. So I go back to praying. "I pray to the Stranger-" scratch, scratch, scratch.

I pause, my eyebrows furrowing as I finally open my eyes, moving my eyes around the very empty church, my eyes land on nothing. There is nothing here with me. There must be rats in the wall.

I open my mouth to continue before a loud banging makes me jump and drop my rosary. I look behind me and see the door shake with the sheer force of the knocks.

Once the knocks cease I get the courage to call out in the darkness, "Who comes here at the hour of the wolf?"

Silence. "Answer me!" Silence as well.

I stand up from my sitting position, discarding my rosary as it lays neglected on the floor. I slowly walk towards the large double doors, my bare feet planting on the cold stone.

My body reaches the door, fingers instinctively reaching out and grabbing onto the handle. I go to pull it but I hesitate. What was on the other side? A cat? A person? The killer?…

You only live once, if I am to die then I am to die, it is what the Seven want.

I use a lot of my strength to pull open one of the doors to reveal the cold to the warm.

As my eyes scour as much as the darkness allows me to see. I turn my head right, nothing. I turn my head left, a shadow.

I shriek out of shock, jumping as I look at the body before me. A man. He has scruffy black hair, a cocky grin and a scar above his lip.

"Greetings, Septa." He smirks, enjoying my reaction. Who was this man? "Greetings… how may I help you?…" My tone is sceptical, unsure.

"I need a place to rest until the morrow. Well, it already is, what I mean is when the sun rises." He flashes a charming but cocky smile, stepping slowing infront of me. He was tall and lean, towering over me.

"Of course, you could have just came inside you know? Come, step inside, you are always welcome at the Church." His smile widens and turns into a smirk. His eyes flashing an emotion I cannot put my finger on. But it wasn’t just an emotion. I swear I had saw his deep, dark eyes flash a bright red, but it was dark, the hour of the wolf, I am just tired.

I welcomed the young man inside, smiling politely as I let him in. Shutting the door, I do not realise the danger I face. I have just locked myself in an isolated Church with a Vampire. Gods help me…

Tags: @thethreeeyed-raven @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom

[valaenatargaryensdragon]

could you do a one shot of alicent and viserys firstborn daughter manipulating and seducing Daemon to marry her instead of rhaeyrna after laenas death because he sees her as a younger and more beautiful version of her older half-sister. like reader is a girlboss cause she got him on the greens side and she got him whipped by her beauty and all the children she is giving him.

A/N: I hope you like it! Thank you so very much!!

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

summary: alicent and viserys firstborn daughter manipulating and seducing Daemon to marry her instead of rhaeyrna after laenas death because he sees her as a younger and more beautiful version of her older half-sister. like reader is a girlboss cause she got him on the greens side and she got him whipped by her beauty and all the children she is giving him.

Word count: 2,2K

Warnings: Smut, Angst, jealousy

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

"Nuncle" Daemon turned around to face you, his eyes widened at the sight of you. You wore a black dress a little too revealing for a funeral but the innocent glint in your eyes showed that you did not know better. Your corset pushed your cleavage up for him to see and admire while your arms were showing.

"Niece" He nodded his head looking like he was in a daze for a second. His eyes snapped up to look at you. You forced a small tear to roll down your cheek, faking your sadness.

"I wished to give you my condolences, I may have never met Lady Laena but from what i heard she was an amazing lady, I am sure your daughters will take after her" You spoke lightly. Your hand raised slowly to rest on his upper arm to offer him some comfort. Daemon's eyes followed your movement making you feel a little scared that you were going too fast and moved to pull away but he grabbed your hand before you could.

"Thank you, niece, she was an amazing mother indeed" Daemon raised your hand placing a kiss to the back of your fingers.

"If you need anything uncle, do send for me, we are family after all" You batted your eyelashes at him. Daemon did not let go of your hand and instead kept it warmed in his own.

"I wish to walk away from this crowd, I have not had time to mourn properly, may I ask you to join me?" He asked tilting his head to the side. You had to suppress a smirk to give him the impression that he was the one to manipulate you.

"Of course" You pulled your hand from his hand to the crook of his arm instead. Daemon led you away from the noise of the people talking. You looked back as the noise grew further away to find your older sister's eyes wandering in search of Daemon not knowing that you had gotten to him first.

"I heard that you were a rogue, father mention several times that you have the characteristic of your late mother princess Alyssa, what was she like?" You asked boldly. The noise now was merely background noise but still it grew quieter the more he led you away.

"I am afraid I do not remember, I was very young when she passed" Daemon answered, turning to look at you. You faked a horrified gasp and your other hand snapped up to cover your mouth in shock.

"I apologise uncle, I did not mean to offend" You squeaked. Daemon swallowed thickly, bingo! From what you heard he liked innocent maidens, he liked to corrupt them, mould them however he liked.

"Nothing to apologise for, sweet girl" Daemon's free hand raised to touch the apple of your cheek. You averted your eyes and opted to stare at the sand below your feet.

"I should have known better than to mention another important woman in your life when you are still mourning your lady wife's passing, please forgive me" You whispered. He put pressure below your chin to get you to look at him. His eyebrows shot up in shock at the sight of tears in your eyes.

"Sweet niece" He pulled you closer in for a hug. Your wrapped your arms around his waist tightly smirking into his shirt. You pulled away to look him in the eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something but you interrupted him by surging up smashing your lips together. He froze for a second before kissing you back. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer to your body, every fibber in your body begging to feel more of him.

He sighed against your lips, his arms wrapping around your waist pulling your closer to him. Your fingers wandered up his neck and into his hair messing the half pulled up hair do. His fingers fiddled with your laces not yet pulling them apart.

"Oh sweet girl" He pulled back to look at your face. You whined at the loss much to his amusement. Daemon can be cruel but not now. He leaned down to kiss you again, much fiercer this time, slipping his tongue into your mouth forcefully to play with yours.

Your fingers trailed down his neck to his tunic beginning to unbutton it and he let you. This time around he pulled the strings loosening your gown around your body.

"Nuncle" You moaned against his lips when you felt the tip of his fingers make contact with the skin of your shoulder. He slipped the dress off slowly until it was hanging off your elbows.

"How pretty" He complimented, eyes glued to your breasts barely covered by the corset. He pushed your dress the rest of the way down to the ground.

"Someone will see" You whispered. He ignored you and took off his cape to lay it on the floor before he guided you down to lay on the ground. He took off his tunic before joining you down on the sand.

"No they won't if you keep quiet, sweet girl" He responded. You gulped but did not push him away. He leaned his head down to place small kisses to your jawline. He shudder ran through your body at his touch.

One of his hands was planted on the ground to keep his weight off of you while the other one trailed down to grab at your thigh pulling it up and closer to him. You moaned as he squeezed the flesh along with his lips sucking at your neck. Your heart was hammering against your chest and your were sure he could feel it.

"Uncle" You mewled, feeling his ever growing length rub against your thigh. You reached down to his breeches to palm him over the fabric.

"Eager are we?" He teased looking up at you. You moaned when he turned back to your corset to untie the laces that were on the front for once.

"Shit" he groaned as your breasts spilled out. He moved to his knees between your legs so he can palm them with both of his hands.

"Such beautiful tits" He was in a daze like state. He dived back down mouth watering for your breasts. He kissed and sucked as if they were his last meal. Your cunt grew wetter with his each tug of his.

"Please, uncle" You begged attempting to rub your cunt against his clothed cock. Daemon growled against your flesh, one of his hands snapped down to your hip to keep you in place.

"Please fuck me, uncle" You begged, leaning down to whisper the words in his ear. Daemon let go of your tit with a pop and droll running down his chin.

"Whatever my sweet niece wants" He hands fumbled to push his breeches down just enough for his cock to spring out, proud and hard, long in length with just enough girth to make you shudder with fear if it will fit.

"Is it going to hurt?" You asked, eyes wide as you watched him move closer to you.

"Scared are you? You were begging for it only a second ago" Daemon teased. Your breath got caught in your throat when he let the tip touch your swollen clit.

"Uncle" You shivered, hands grabbing at his biceps. He furrowed at the sight of tears in your eyes.

"Shh sweet girl, it will hurt for a pinch then it will feel good, I promise" He leaned down to place a comforting kiss to your forehead. You gulped but nodded your head.

"Shhh" He shushed as he began to push in, a reminder to stay quit. One of your hands snapped up to your mouth to cover it. He was huge, he was stretching you in ways your fingers never did. You were heaving by the time half of him was inside.

"Uncle" You cried, hands snapping to his chest to either push him or stop him. He paused his movement and looked up at your face. Tears were leaking from your eyes, your lower lip in between your teeth to stop your cries, you looked amazing.

"Just a little more, sweet girl" He reassured. He leaned down to rest his forehead on yours as he pushed the rest of him in. You mewled holding on to his shoulders for some support.

"Such a good girl for me" He praised, kissing your nose. You raised your chin enough to claim his lips with yours. Daemon was not a patient man and began to move giving you barely any time to adjust to his length.

His mouth swallowed your moans and cries. The uncomfortable feeling in your gut slowly morphed into pressure, and it was so very pleasurable.

"That's it" Daemon praised when you pulled your mouth away from his moaning in pleasure. Your pulled him closer needing to feel his flesh on yours. He latched onto your skin without a second thought, not caring if he left marks behind.

You looked up at the sky letting the pleasure consume you, Daemon was experienced, he knew what he was doing. A smirk grew on your face knowing you had won, you had trapped your uncle or at least your web had began to wrap around him.

"Good girl, taking me so well" He moaned in your ear. You cried feeling your release nearing. He kissed your lips to quieten you as your pleasure rolled into you. Soon he was following behind you but he was not even close to being down with you, no he will have you until the sun began rising high in the sky again.

"Rhaella, will you help your mother" Daemon called earning the attention of the six namedays old girl. She turned to find you struggling to hold the hand of your other child, Daelyx, your three namedays old son.

"Yes papa" She skipped over to you and took her brother's hand in her own. You sighed in relief rising to stand up straight again with a hand over your growing belly.

"Thank you darling" You pushed some of her hair back. She grinned up at you happy to help.

"Lets go darling, Viserys is waiting for us" Daemon reminded. You smiled at him. He was standing to the side with your twins only one nameday old yet you were seven moons pregnant with your fifth child. Your twin daughters giggled at each other babbling in a language only they knew, Daenys and Aera.

"Yes, my love" You moved to walk along side him or more like wobble. Rhaella trailed behind you with Daelyx's hand in her own. She was whispering something to her brother you could not hear but that kept the little boy distracted as he looked around at the weird place he found himself in.

"Do you reckon he will be angry because we haven't visited in a while?" You asked in a whisper. The lords and ladies curtsied when seeing before noticing the clutch of children with you and Daemon all white haired and purple eyes. Your wedding was a quick and small affair only a moon after the beech incident when you informed your mother that you had not gotten your moon's blood. She was furious but then seeing who the father was she calmed down and allowed the wedding instead of terminating the pregnancy and sending you to old town to become a septa like she original planned.

"He will understand that we've got our hands full" Daemon grinned at you, he flexed his muscles to bounce the two girls in his arms making them squeal with delight. You smiled at the sound of their giggles.

"I hope so" Your conversation ended when you reached your father's room. The guards opened the door and to your shock Rhaenyra was there along with your mother and grandsire.

"Granny!" Rhaella let go of Daelyx to run to your mother, he huffed annoyed and attempted to race her over to your mother. Your mother grinned and crouched down to meet the two of them.

"Welcome prince Daemon, princess" Your grandsire nodded at Daemon who awkwardly nodded back. You grinned at your grandsire who smirked at you proud of your achievement. It did not go unnoticed that Daemon's clothes were of black and green and no longer of black and red.

"Uncle" Rhaenyra earned your attention when she addressed your husband. He handed you Daenys when she grew restless in his arms. She grew still knowing better than to kick your bulging stomach having been scolded for it only a fortnight prier.

"Sister, always a delight to see you" You stepped closer to her with fake joy on your face. She faked a smile letting you hug her buying your fake innocence as if you could not see her longing.

"Daenys look, it is your grandsire" You moved away from Rhaenyra to sit at your father's bedside. He huffed tiredly but half smiled at the sight of your daughter.

"Daenys? like the dreamer?" He heaved. Feeling a presence behind your turned to find Daemon with Aera in his arms and Rhaella and Daelyx by his side. In that moment you were more than sure you had won, he had ignored Rhaenyra in favour of you and your children. He placed his free hand on your shoulder to show his support. Daemon was your slave now.

[merakiui]

Mother

yandere!kabukimono x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, pregnancy, implied codependency, brief mentions of murder/death, brief mention of childbirth note - recently i was inspired to write a kabukimono story, so i hope you can enjoy it!

i. the miracle of life.

There is a little human growing within you.

Kabukimono has never heard of such a phenomenon, but according to you it’s a normal facet of life for all creatures. He, who has only ever interacted with men, young and old, and the occasional grandmother, has never known the word pregnancy. It’s a complicated concept he struggles to parse at first—like that first sip of sake or the stickiness of a sweet. It’s something that leaves you pleasantly rounded like a ripe lavender melon, softens the skin on your bones, and allows you to grow into the kimono that was once two sizes too large. It’s something you speak of with overwhelming warmth, a fondness so enticing it’s almost tangible. It’s something the men at the furnace discuss with great pride and merriment, swapping stories of their beautiful, beloved wives and the tiny miracles that dwell within the womb, adoration painted upon weathered countenances. 

Miracles. Kabukimono has heard the word once or twice. Miracles, as he has come to learn, are wonderful things wrapped in silks. Newborns swathed in softness. Frail humans who manage to overcome illnesses that are said to snuff both body and soul with the excruciating passage of time. Sometimes a miracle is simple and not nearly as exciting as tales of heroes and villains or a mortal fight for recovery. Sometimes a miracle is waking up to begin another day. Sometimes it's torrential rain battering thirsty farmlands. Sometimes it’s a delicious meal prepared by a loving hand. 

If Kabukimono’s existence were to be defined as a miracle, it would be both a grandiose, gilded lie and bittersweet flattery all in one pretty package. Miracles are wanted, loved, and accepted. Disasters, curses, failures—however you wish to name the wandering puppet—are unwanted, despised, and abandoned. Kabukimono may not know every truth of this vast world, but this is one he’s understood from the moment he awoke in a lonesome pavilion. 

There is a little miracle growing within you. 

“Although they’re not very little now,” you remark, taking his cold, bloodless hands in your warm, blood-filled ones.

You guide them to your belly, secured snugly with a hara-obi, and he averts his gaze, if only to be respectful of the bare flesh you’ve put on display. The men at the furnace note he often stares at you; they’ve said it’s unbecoming of a young man to fix licentious eyes upon a maiden. Once, they joked of repentance for invasive gazes: A man who strays too far from his honor when a lady is involved shall gouge his eyes out and present them to her in hopes of earning forgiveness. Kabukimono, unable to comprehend the sarcasm or the laughter, procured a shard of shattered glass, raised it to his eye, and was promptly stopped by a very concerned Niwa. 

“Now listen here,” he had said, addressing the group of chuckling men, “it’s not very honorable to trick others.”

Kabukimono knows that there are two types of tricks: the painful kind and the painless kind. Betrayal falls under the painful category. Swapping his bitter tea for sake falls under the painless category (though he was not spared of the dizzying, disorienting effects or the subsequent hangover). Had he sliced his eyes from his skull, he wonders if he would have felt the sting, the agony, the fluid filling empty eye sockets—if such fluid even exists within his unique anatomy. Kabukimono is grateful for Niwa, for he often rescues him from painless tricks that may turn painful should he follow through with blind trust. 

And, had he truly lost his eyes that day, he never would have had the pleasure of looking at you like he does now. 

“Not very little…” he parrots, and he can practically feel the heartbeat from your miracle the moment his hands rest upon your belly. It shimmers in the candlelight, but that’s only because you’ve applied herbal oil meant to soothe weary muscles and prevent stretch marks. “How big will it become?”

You hum, idly trace patterns onto the tops of his hands, and say, “It’s difficult to approximate. Imagine…a very big lavender melon.”

Kabukimono can do that. He peers past you at the purple pile on the table, spoils from his last walk. He always returns with too many, but then pregnancy leaves you with a voracious appetite and sometimes you can eat more than one melon in one sitting. It’s very admirable, so he brings more each week and you never stop him. 

“That’s big,” he mumbles, awestruck, and he slides a hand across the width of your stomach. “How does it fit?”

“It’s a miracle.”

“Oh.” He leans closer, suspecting he feels movement from within, and he’s proven correct when something shifts under his palms. His eyes, blown so very, impossibly wide, flick up to yours. “It… It moved!”

“Of course,” you say, smiling, and your eyes are the prettiest gemstones in the moonlight. He could stare at them forever. “They kick and squirm often. This, too, is the sweetest miracle.”

“How so?”

“A restless baby means they are alive and well within.” You look like a statue of the gentlest goddess when you cradle your stomach. “It’s all I could ever hope for.”

Curiously, Kabukimono withdraws his hands and lifts the hem of his silks to view his own flat, porcelain stomach. He presses a palm against synthetic skin. It’s cold, but there is life crackling beneath his hand, just barely contained within the frame his mother personally sculpted. 

Mother. It’s another word he knows well, but he cannot seem to apply it to anyone other than his creator. But, as he has come to learn, a mother is meant to provide and protect. His mother is currently absent, so she cannot do those things. 

“You must have something you want.” 

Kabukimono lowers the fabric, cinches it tight, and peers at you. “Something I want?”

“Like a miracle of your own.”

“I am unable to conceive a miracle.”

You stare at him for a moment before laughing a quiet, melodious laugh. “It doesn’t have to be a child. It can be anything you want.”

His hands rise to his chest and he intends to admit his true wish—a heart and a place amongst humans—but instead he says, “I would like a mother for myself.”

“Do you not have a mother, Kabukimono?”

“I do… I did.” He shakes his head, finding that the admittance is too troublesome on his tongue. “I’m…unsure.”

You nod, your features softening with understanding. “Perhaps something else then?” Kabukimono reaches out to touch your belly, hesitates, and draws away, conflicted. You offer an encouraging smile. “You can touch. I don’t mind, and I don’t think the baby minds either.”

And so he does.

“I want to see your miracle when it’s brought into the world,” he whispers, speaking more to your baby than to you. “And I would like to know the miracle of life.”

As if in response, your little miracle kicks.

ii. the miracle of death. 

Your little miracle almost fell from the sky that envelops it.  

On the way to the furnace, a man bumped into you and you were sent stumbling on uneven ground. Kabukimono does not want to think of what could have happened if he hadn’t been a few steps behind—if he hadn’t rushed to your aid with a quickness rivaling lightning. He’d caught you in his arms and, noting the raw panic sullying such a friendly face, could only exhale a slow, relieved sigh. 

When you fell, you were holding your belly, shielding it as if it was worth more than your own life. When you fell, the man who had been the catalyst for this short-lived horror did not jump in to catch you. When you fell, you were a sliver away from tragedy. 

Kabukimono tastes red-hot anger in his throat, but he cannot understand where it’s coming from or why it consumes him entirely. But he must get it out of his system. It’s unpleasant and wrong and sordid. He doesn’t like it. Not at all.

And so, later that same day, he repays terror tenfold and leaves the man clinging to the strand he calls life.

“I won’t allow you to take my miracle away.” It’s spoken like a fact, shot through with syllables of deadly certainty. The sharpened tip of his blade prods at the man’s abdomen, a warning, a threat, and a promise all at once. For nearly taking a life, you shall pay for it with your own.

“Your mother?” the man had sputtered, terrified and confused, sticky with sweat and tears. 

Kabukimono does not let the man speak again, for the sword sinks into his stomach, and unease morphs into painful torment. To be certain the man won’t survive, Kabukimono twists the sword, sullies his hands in the process, and yanks it free with startling strength. Blood speckles a pristine canvas. It’s warm and wet.

He did not say mother. He did not. You’re a miracle. You are not his mother. You will be a mother to your miracle, not him because he isn’t a miracle. 

He did not say mother. 

Kabukimono finds himself sitting across from you now. There is a ghastly tear in crimson-spattered silks. You suspect the truth in the liquid staining his attire. Surely you must. But you keep your lips pursed and thread the needle through with expert fingers, humming as you work. Kabukimono sits primly, watching you with bright, indigo hues. You hum a melody he has never heard before.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m uninjured.”

“I’m glad.” You snip the excess string away and tuck the needle into your sewing kit. “It’s fixed. I’m sorry if it looks a little awkward. I’m not the best at—”

“It’s perfect,” he insists, admiring the stitching as if it’s the most valuable thing in all of Teyvat. Irreplaceable, for no one could replicate your exact pattern, and that’s what makes it so special. 

“Would you like to talk about it?”

He’s quiet for all of two minutes before the silence shatters his resolve. “Your miracle…” He frowns, suddenly ashamed. “He almost hurt your miracle…”

“But he didn’t, and I have you to thank for that.” You hold your hands out, palms up, and add, “Your hands aren’t meant to break and destroy others. You were given these precious palms to embrace others, to protect others, to respect others.” 

Slowly, he places his hands in yours. His seem to weigh heavy like a grimy sin, yet somehow all it takes is a single touch from you and all of his filth is cleansed. His fingers curl around yours, entwining like vines.

“I will embrace others. I will protect others. I will respect others.”

You squeeze his hands reassuringly. “When you’re upset, rather than acting rashly, take a step back and sit with your feelings. If the unpleasant thing persists, come to me and we can discuss. But please don’t take your frustrations out on others. You weren’t made to hurt others.”

“Then if I was not made for destruction, what else could be the purpose for my creation?”

To that, you’re unable to produce a satisfactory reply. Instead, you pull one of your hands free, lick your thumb, lean towards him, and scrub the blood from his cheeks. He blinks at you, unaccustomed to such consideration. The men at the furnace often tease him for trailing after you like a lost, little duckling, seeking your approval and affection. Tonight, since the men are nowhere in sight, he thinks he can allow himself to be greedy without any admonishments from Niwa or Katsuragi. You sure do like that (Name), huh? the latter often muses, exchanging wary, furtive glances with Niwa, as if both are preparing to weather a calamity. 

Kabukimono always speaks the truth unless he must take care to conceal it. So when he tells them, I like her more than I like the world that surrounds me, he means it. Because without you there is no world.

“Thank you, Mother,” he murmurs, as if it’s a secret, a title not meant to be uttered by him. 

Oh, he said it again. He said mother. 

iii. the miracle of motherhood.

Kabukimono kneels at your bedside like an angel of death dressed in the purity of white. He watches you throughout the hour, listening to your cries, your groans, your hisses, while a grandmother assists below, whispering soothing consolations that somehow reach Kabukimono’s ears despite the shrill noises that fill the room. Kabukimono has learned she’s a granny who delivers life, so he puts his faith in her to take good care of you and your miracle.

The process is much longer than he anticipated. Though you’re covered in sweat and tears, your chest heaving, your hand searching for him in the midst of the commotion, you are the most beautiful miracle he has ever known. He closes his hand around yours and you squeeze so hard you might just tear his wrist from the joint. But it doesn’t hurt him, and he spends the afternoon at your side, watching the toll the miracle takes on your body.

He never blinks, burning the scene into his retinas. 

Some time later, you are holding your miracle in your arms, tears tracking down your cheeks in salty streaks. Kabukimono watches mother and child with wide, adoring eyes. After all this time, your miracle is finally here! You’re holding such a fragile human and there is love trickling from your lash line. Kabukimono wants to cry with you, but the tears won’t come. 

So instead he smiles. You seize his wrist and drag him down to where you rest, and the smile widens.

“Your miracle is leaking,” he observes, and you snort in amusement.

“Crying,” you correct, bumping your forehead with his. “She’s adorable, isn’t she?”

Kabukimono is inclined to agree, but your eyes are not on him. For the first time in the many months he’s been acquainted with you, he is not all you see. Somehow that saddens him, carves a hole into him, but he can’t mourn. He shouldn’t. He’s come to learn that the miracle of childbirth is an occasion worthy of celebration. He should be happy for you—and he is—but there is a pang in his chest. Something is not fitting where it should. Something is amiss.

“I think I’ll name her…Aika.”

“Is it common to give miracles names?”

“Of course. Everyone has a name, even you. We’re all given one the moment we’re born.”

Even me… 

Aika continues to cry and you rock her to and fro in your arms, shushing her with a song. She settles within minutes, lulled to sleep, and you follow shortly after. He refuses to leave your bedside, preferring to watch over you like a dutiful guard.

Kabukimono weighs his two warring wants: a name of his own, generously given by his mother, and you. In this very moment, you are attainable. A name, however, is not. But perhaps he can survive without one if it means you’ll accompany him through nameless wandering.

He’s only ever whole when he’s with you. 

iv. the miracle of rebirth. 

The Balladeer stands at an all-too-familiar doorstep. He has since swapped his pure linens for a shroud of darkness, and he’s taken on a new alias (he refuses to call it a name, for only you can grant him one). You haven’t changed in the many years that have since followed, for you are not fully human like him. Yet you veil yourself in the wonders of humanity, always empathetic in nature, tainted with weak emotions. You will never be human, but then neither will he and there is catharsis in similarity. The both of you stand on equal ground in that regard, or so you might have thought. 

He is better because he feels nothing, or so he believes. Perhaps, in the center of the labyrinth that is his mind, he recognizes his flaws and the fact that he is worse because you can accept the many aspects of humanity. 

Shrugging these irritations away, he composes himself, squares his shoulders, and knocks thrice. He could forego etiquette altogether, kick your door down, and force himself inside for the sake of a cruel surprise, but he refrains from doing so. He suspects your newest miracle might tumble from your sky if he shocks you and then you will never know the sweet cycle of motherhood again.

You know better than to ignore Death when he comes knocking. The door opens wide; there’s no need to crack it and peek through the thin sliver when you’re already aware of the person who awaits you on the other side. 

As he has observed over the course of many months, you do have another miracle, hidden under the softness of a floral-patterned kimono. He smiles at you, sharp and wicked under a blanket of stars, and spreads his arms for a hug.

“Mother,” he says in a sarcastic singsong, knowing it unnerves you terribly when it spills like sin from his lips. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Like an old habit, you welcome him in. Beyond your doorstep, the corpse of your most recent lover lies slumped and bloodied, decapitated and disemboweled, dragged so far there’s a vermilion trail marking the path. Sometimes you think these humans are not killed by The Balladeer but rather by the sheer ferocity of the hatred and anger he harbors. He’s always diligent with each of your lovers, swooping in the moment he catches their scents, like a predatory cat finely tuned for slaughter. 

He palms at your stomach, uncharacteristically gentle. “Aren’t you just full of miracles, Mother?”

There is a little human growing within you, and The Balladeer has made it his duty to bear witness to the birth of each one of your miracles.

[3vln]

Ravens and Stallions: Ch. 1

Pairings: D. Blackwood x Bracken!Reader

Words: 3,800+

C.W.: probably needs LOTS of revisions. lots of time-inaccurate privileges (ladies allowed in taverns?? modern dilly-dallying), lots of cringe-worthy moments trying to add Westerosi/British slang into the mix (would love help on this) OCs, enemies-to-lovers, Romeo & Juliet-esque, non-canon stuff, no smut yet but will have (so MINORS DNI) My Lady Jane-type of banter.

Summary: Someone’s broken heart is how the day got started; for someone else, it was how it ended.

There was nothing special about meeting the Blackwood boy, at first. And he thought the same about you. It wasn’t love at first sight, or anything like that. But it was a gradual thing as you both got to know each other throughout the evening. It was a meeting by chance.

See, your respective friend groups had taken you both out to the nearby town of Harroway for some drinks; for the Blackwood boy, he’d heard talks about war looming, and the time to enjoy his livelihood, and his time being alive… well, he knew it would be short. He needed to make the days he had on Earth count.

And you, you were staying at your aunt’s house in Harroway to accompany your heartbroken friend to get drinks with a few others. While you weren’t someone who usually snuck out to drink, and had a good head on your shoulders, times like these where you enjoyed yourself were few and sparse. It was easier to obtain forgiveness from Aunt Jeyne than to ask your parents for permission.

So, as you were drinking your wine and comforting your distraught friend with the others, you briefly met, unbeknownst to you, the eyes of a rival.

“He had used me! I know he did, that rat bastard!” your wailing friend had choked out, snapping your attention to her. The other two friends made agreeable comments to comfort their hurting friend. In a loud tavern full of bustling noises, no one else had paid attention to her besides the friend group. It drowned out the quiet sobs and prevented any unnecessary attention.

You tried to encourage her with words of affirmation in an effort to lighten up her mood, it pained you to find close ones in pain, especially if it could have been prevented. “Lyanne, you can’t let that boy dictate how you live your life,” you heartened. The others agreed and chimed in with more affirming reflections. You eyed the table’s supply of wine and ale and sighed. “Moon tea will serve you best if it interests you, and please pray to the Maiden. Let’s get you another round of drinks for now; what do you say?” Lyanne wasn’t much of a devout, but she still took the advice to heart; smiling through her sad smile and teary eyes, she reminded herself to thank her friend later.

As you got up, another from the friend group joined you, making small talk about the unfortunate girl’s heartbreak and thanking you for joining them and for bringing fun and reason into the conversation.

“Although, I really think she should look into another man’s arms for comfort,” she mentioned coyly upon arrival to the bar.

“Bellena!” you quietly exclaimed with a smile before turning your back to order. You were too lost in your blush but thought about agreeing. Truth be told, it wasn’t a terrible idea. Not the best and ladylike, but nonetheless. Crying over failures was futile, and it was best to occupy perplexed thoughts with distractions.

An unfamiliar voice behind you tried for an unsolicited introduction between you both with a “Lost are we, ladies?” You quietly exchanged unimpressed looks.

A man with a sly grin had presented himself, mostly towards your friend; while weak of an introduction, yes, you saw Bellena’s gears start to work, most likely thinking of ways to see how she could use this to their advantage.

It was beautiful to see her magic work in real time, as she smiled sweetly, flirted with her eyes, and informed the man they’ve come for sweet libations from handsome men. “I see we’ve come to the right place,” she added. They maintained a bit of prolonged eye contact and, truthfully, you couldn’t fault either.

Bellena, of House Piper, was a natural beauty. Dark, cherry-red hair adorned her, and she truly embodied her house words of “Brave and Beautiful.”

The man before her was tall and handsome, Dornish-looking in a way – dark skin and thick eyebrows. You weren’t sure what house he was from, but Bellena thought it didn’t matter on nights like these. No one was dressed for battle and expressed their house colors tonight. The ladies themselves were anonymous in a way, dressed as common folk or servants having the night off to avoid the attention if dressed in their usual silks.

Banter and flirtatious remarks were exchanged between them, and soon after, Bellena successfully got the man to pay for the next rounds, allowing him and his friends to join your table at the tavern.

You both exchanged another look - this time, a silent acknowledgement in maidenhood: if anything happened that wasn’t welcomed, you’d all be quick to collect the other 2 ladies sitting at the table, and quickly exit.

This was an acknowledged risk, and for Lyanne above all.

“For the lore,” a phrase you all repeated and clinked your first drinks to.

“Miss?” The bar tender called for you, snapping you back to the present, “the drinks.”

As the man waved for his friends to join you, and as you moved towards the drinks, a familiar face you had seen a moment ago reached out to them before you, “Oh!”

“Let me get these for you,” he offered with a lazy smile.

You eyed him suspiciously, but offered back a polite smile.

“Davos, mate! Ever the gentleman. Follow us,” Aron, you soon learned, called out ahead.

Bellena quickly introduced him and his company, and ensured at least one of you had someone to talk to and talk about - especially Lyanne, whom the girls wanted to see enjoy herself and meet someone new.

Times like today, you weren’t fully mentally prepared to meet new people or anyone outside of whom you thought about spending the evening with. Quickly downing your drink as you sit next to Lyanne, you hope it quickly loosens you up to conversation. But to your surprise, you found that Davos, from at the end of the table, had noticed this quick moment and looked at you with a mix of surprise and, ultimately, awe – nodding his head in approval. You looked away in embarrassment, not expecting the attention.

“What brings you pretty lot out here to Harroway anyway?” one of them asks.

The ladies took a moment to respond, sheepishly looking around at each other with embarrassed smiles, debating if an elaborate story should be told or flat out explain the story in which they’re here for their broken-hearted friend.

“Well...” it was a tricky position. They didn't want to reveal themselves, but the ladies didn't know where to begin.

One of them snickered. “Don’t tell us you’re all out having a naughty night out and running away from home,” Davos joked as he took a drink from his pint. “I’d be quite intrigued if that was the case.”

The cherry-haired girl chuckled at the irony and nodded towards you, “Oh, you’d be surprised. Have you met my dear friend over here? I think you’d be quite smitten with her.”

In this moment, you remembered thinking and wishing for the Earth to open up and swallow you whole, and created a mental note to strangle the girl in front of you as you cover your face with your hands.

“Oh? A runaway, I fear?” he teases.

“Absolutely not,” you shook your head, quickly thinking of ways to explain yourself. “I had only wished for some fresh air and found myself in this tavern before I knew it. I’m sure we’ve all been there before.” Not your finest.

“Oh! Oh, yes!” He teasingly agreed, nodding with a sarcastic smile. “I was out with these lads having a drink, and before I knew it, my feet had taken a mind of their own and found myself here. I’m glad I’ve found my people.”

“Precisely.”

He chuckles as he rolls his eyes and takes another sip from his pint.

-

The rest of the evening was followed by more laughter and banter from both ends, surprised at how well things were going and the ladies having fun and comfortable, the heartbroken girl had even rallied back together from her earlier state; and even though you weren’t contributing to much conversation, you were relaxed as long as everyone else was having a grand time. You looked down at your drink, almost gone, and while you weren’t inebriated, you figured it was time for some fresh air.

Absent-mindedly, you excused yourself from the table, and upon leaving to venture outside, you weren’t prepared to see Lyanne perched up outside against the tavern walls towards a quiet corner, in the middle of a passionate kiss with the man whom she had been speaking with.

Quickly hiding back behind the wall, hand on your chest and the other over your mouth, a peal of laughter creeps up as you try to hold against it, afraid of being caught or heard. You were wondering where she had gone after missing from the table for some time. Now you know where. You made a mental note to hold court with her and the other girls soon to debrief on the day’s events.

“There you are.”

You looked to the entrance of the alehouse and saw the man who had helped you with the drinks walk up. You offered him a greeting with a biting smile.

He seemed amused by your reaction. “I see we’re in need of some fresh air?”

You nodded as you bit your lip, holding back a giggle. “Well, that was the plan. But I see that we’re not the only ones who need fresh air.”

He looked at you curiously until he looked around the corner and saw the offending sight. He looked at you with shock, his mouth hanging in disbelief with his lips turned up, “Seven hells!”

You nodded to reaffirm you were equally as shocked. He looked over again, feigning the same shocked reaction, but this time he furrowed his eyebrows, face growing stern, “Wait, that’s not alright.” He touched your shoulder, as if to excuse himself as he made himself visible to the offending couple, “Ey! Get your vile tongue off her! And treat her like a lady - get a room!”

There was a “Piss off!” in the distance, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the entertaining interaction between Davos and his friend. He let out a chuckle as he ran his tongue over the side of his teeth, returning the response with an offending finger towards the distant man.

“The boldness of that lad, huh?” he returned his attention back to you.

You shrugged, “I hope this doesn’t make me a bad friend, but I’m glad she’s having fun.”

He raised his eyebrows as he scanned you down, “And you call that having fun?” You roll your eyes as you push yourself off the wall.

“Calm down. All I’m saying,” you emphasize, “is that I’m glad that she’s not sad anymore.”

“Hm. Care to elaborate?”

You looked at him curiously, looking at the way he was genuinely interested in conversation as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall towards you. Relaxed eyes looking down at you, dark irises gleaming despite the twilight sky. You thought about how sweet he looked – kind of handsome in a rugged and boyish way, his choppy bangs framing his face. It almost made you uneasy how interested he looked.

Clearing your throat and looking away, you entertained the conversation and started to walk around the alehouse – both attentive to not disturbing the lovebirds – and although you were careful not to reveal too much about yourself, it was nice to talk about your friend groups and your interests with someone who was interesting, of substance, and someone who understood your humor. This was a stark contrast to the suitors that your mother had wanted you to meet. Most conversations had fallen flat, or lacked sympathy, or intelligence for that matter.

Davos was careful to maintain a respectful distance, cautious to not make any unnecessary touches, which was something you appreciated. You began to take a liking to him because of that.

“What about you?” you asked as you both made your way to the distant trees that offered quietness - polar to the noisy tavern inside. “What do you like?”

He sheepishly smiled. A thought formed in his head about whether he should take a bold move or stay conservative. “Not a lot of things, truth be told.” He looked away. “But I know I like something when I feel it,” he finished, his head turning to you with a lopsided smile.

Taken aback, you hope the blush creeping up doesn’t betray you, and silently nod.

A beat of silence follows, and a look of realization falls on his face as he stands tall from leaning against the tree he had just made himself comfortable on. His face, now beet red, distorts with ideas to make conversation out of, “I hope that wasn’t too forward, I’m sorry, it’s just that you’re very pretty with a pretty laugh, and I think you’re a very nice girl and funny too, and I like you and…” strings of words came together to fill the silence, and you look at him in awe and curiosity at how fast he’s able to talk, wondering if he’ll ever catch a breath for talking fast.

As he continued, you made a forward move to place your hands on him in hopes of calming him, holding his face in one of your palms, “Davos… Davos!” you try. His face was warm, you didn’t realize how bony his cheekbones were as you brushed your thumb against his cheek.

Eventually, realizing your hands were on him, he slowed down. “Right, uhh, yes, sorry,” he breathed as he calmed.

“Thank you,” you chuckled. “I thought something had possessed you,” you laughed. A beat of silence. “But that was sweet.”

You forgot your hands were still on him caressing his cheeks until he placed his hands on top of yours, something you were unprepared for, but nonetheless welcomed.

Another beat of silence. “You have very soft hands,” he murmured as he closed his eyes and kissed the inside of your palm, then leaned into it. Oh.

When he opened his eyes, he studied you and smiled, “You are very pretty,” he said softly. Oh!

Something in you grew, your heart, or your chest, or something. It was almost consuming. Was it the way he had kissed your palm? Or the way he outright told you how pretty you look? Or the endearing way his thoughts dispersed and he babbled on? A bit of everything, you supposed. It was too forward, but it was nice, it was a nice feeling; foreign, and a bit uncomfortable from it being all new to you, but you welcomed it with a smile, curious to see how this unfolds.

You don’t remember exact details but you remember thinking about the scar above his lip, touching it lightly with your fingers, and the electrifying feeling of his lips meeting yours. The butterflies in your stomach swelled, making their way towards your chest, and your blood pumping with nervousness and excitement as you ventured into a foreign experience.

It felt good to be wanted, the way his hands snaked around your waist, and the way the kiss had started off soft, innocuous, and tender, and how it lent its way to become more profound, and almost sinful.

He was careful to not make any more offending moves, and that made you want him even more; one of your hands now having a mind of their own, snaking their way to comb his hair behind his head between your fingers. You clocked a small grunt leaving him as you tugged his hair a little, his arms pressing you closer to him, and a heat spreading through you, legs seconds from turning jelly and letting him mold you.

You needed to catch your breath – this was becoming too much, and you weren’t expecting any of what had just unfolded. Still interlocked in each other’s arms, a shy laugh left you both.

You shared a comfortable silence in each others arms after some time. And you, dare say thanked? the gods for giving you a lovely moment to live on.

“You know,” breaking the silence after a while as he held on to your waist, “that was quite a feat what you did back there with your drink.”

You quizzically looked at him as you toyed with the locks behind his ear, “hmm?”

“When you chugged your drink. Faster than the northern winds.”

“Oh, was that what first caught your attention?”

“Mmmm, that and your pretty face.”

You rolled your eyes, blushing. “You never told me what you didn’t like,” you murmured in an effort to change the conversation.

To that, the man bobbed his head side to side. “That may be a longer list,” he grimaced.

You heartily chuckle, “I may have the time for it.”

He smiled, “Well, for the basics, what I despise–”

“Oh, we’re starting out heavy.”

“Hah, mmm, well, maybe…” he grinned, and he indeed shared a long list of things, a lot of it personal things that are beyond surface-level that made him his own unique being; and more minor, funny things that he thought were inconveniences.

You really did admire him for being someone who isn’t afraid of vulnerability. It felt like a breath of fresh air. And the attentiveness!

You brushed your thumb over his cheek, with him leaning into it as he continued to list out the things he passionately disliked. He was a man of passion, you soon found out. To your surprise, you've come to found out you like this trait. And surely he's someone you'd be interested in if he were interested in pursuing you. You just needed to find an opening in this conversation with your parents once you learn of Davos' parentage.

And just as you thought about opening up about your family, he’s beaten you to it, and a part of you shatters.

“… ah! And Brackens.”

Huh? You turn to him, “I beg your pardon?”

A million thoughts ran through your head, maybe you misheard? Were we back to talking about our his likes? Enjoyments? Gods be good, are we family? A horror strikes your face. All thoughts race, all leading to the shared kiss.

You looked at him, warm relaxed eyes looking back at you – unaware, unassuming. A piece of you has broken, you think.

He shrugged, “Aye, Brackens. Cravens, the lot of them. I think they’re a bunch of good-for-nothing–”

Another shatter. “I’d be careful with your next words.” You dropped your arms away from him as you sternly held your ground, ready to bite back and defend your gold-and-red coated family. The worst has dawned on you, and disgust has overtaken. No, no, no, no!

Confused and a bit hurt, he studied you and nodded with a frown, finally piecing the puzzle together.

A pregnant silence takes over before he takes a deep breath. “I take it you’re Bracken?”

“Proudly.”

He continued nodding his head and rested his hands on his hips, “Then we’re definitely in a bit of a situation.”

You rolled your eyes, “there’s no situation.” Definitely not after the revelation. It couldn't be allowed. Wouldn't.

“Oh really? This moment we had–”

“We had no moment.”

“- kinda looked like a situation… Right. Well.”

You scoffed. “Davos, do me a favor, forget this ever happened.” It had to. If he was willing to say something about your family, what were the chances of him treating you any better? This was nothing but a flirtatious evening. It was going so well, until it wasn’t, especially when speaking in the matters of family. You couldn’t allow yourself to think beyond this moment, of the what ifs. You had to ensure he understood that and cut it off before anything more began. You looked him in the eye and stood your ground.

There was a darkness in his eyes now, surely hurt after being told to forget this moment with someone whom he wanted to explore a prospect with. He thought about the possibility of apologizing, asking for forgiveness, and although too soon, he'd thought about facing the challenges that involved asking for your hand from a family that wouldn’t welcome him in the first place.

But upon hearing your words, it snapped him out and brought him down to reality. Of course, there was no future, much less a moment of truce between the opposing Houses. This was a feud as old as time. So he did what he did best, and put up a wall around him that had forced him to spit insults, regretfully projecting his own hurt. “Forget? How could I forget the moment I discovered an almost civilized Bracken?”

Oh. This had turned around rather quickly. “Almost? Coming from a Blackwood, that’s a compliment.” Unexpected, but you saw this invitation to pass insults, and determined to not lose this battle, you wanted to hurt him if he was going to act this way.

“Don’t let it get to you. You might start thinking you’re actually interesting.”

I beg your pardon? “Interesting enough to catch your attention, apparently,” you spit, “Or is your recollection as poor as your judgment?”

He leaned in closer, towering over you. “My judgment might be questionable, but at least I don’t deceive people to have fun.”

Crossing your arms, you looked at him lamely with an arched eyebrow, “Oh that’s rich, I didn’t know Raventree Hall had a jester. Is that a Blackwood trait or just your own special talent?”

He stood mere inches away from your face and your stomach was back to making butterflies, but you refused to showcase anything other than annoyance, you were determined to have the last word.

Giving you a once-over, he chuckled, clearly over this, “It’s called charm, something I’m not afraid to use again,” he murmured.

A sound of disgust leaves your lips as you turn around and march back to the tavern, “Enjoy your delusions, Blackwood.”

Davos, back to leaning against the tree, smiled to no one in particular as he would enjoy his delusions. “And you, Bracken; enjoy your illusions.”

On your march back, you were too focused on holding back from vomiting and feeling your emotions, bottling them up and storing them far away. Just as you thought you found someone on your own, it had to be someone you couldn’t have and someone who was willing to insult your family.

You collected the rest of your friends, much to Bellena and Lyanne’s chagrin, and marched back home to your Aunt Jeyne’s place before it got too dark. It was then that you fully settled into your emotions, thought about the shared kiss, how sweet it was, and silently sobbed.

You ended the night with a broken heart.

[str8rat]

In Stars And Time Fear and Hunger AU

Today, we've got THREE CHARACTER SHEETS!!!

TW!! i'm actually not sure LOL UHHH mentions of anxiety?? mentions of grief?? mentions of Erotophobia ( fear of sex and genitals, but nothing graphic dw, a mere mention and explanation ) but yeah if you are any familiar with fear and hunger, i think nothing can really surprise you ._.

MIRABELLE!!! MY GIRL!!!

love how her hair turned out here :D

~ ~ ~

Mirabelle; Atychiphobia ( fear of failure )

Effects; Severe Anxiety

Info;

The Blessed Housemaiden of House of Dormont. Immune to the Curse of Time Freezing. Unfortunately, the public is not as fond of her as one may assume, with her being the Savior of Vaugarde. The public puts immense ammounts of pressure on her, even antagonizing her venomously, claiming that she is not trying hard enough, fast enough to get to the King, as the party ventures through the country.

Mirabelle is at constant brink of an anxiety attack, especially while she is around strangers, causing her to develop a light stutter, that gets worse when she is in a stressful situation. While alone with her party, she becomes a lot more open and calmer, so grateful for everyone's support and being there for her. She picked up the breathing exercise from Siffrin, and uses it regularely. She also cannot forgive herself for Isabeau's sacrifice for her, still having horrible dreams about that day.

Other than her phobia of failing to free her country from the King's grasp, she also shows signs of Erotophobia, which is a fear of genitals and sex. Sometimes, Housemaidens weren't seen as just maidens of the House, but also, prostitutes, earning on the side. Being associated with such an oppinion from her youngest years - ever since becoming a Housemaiden, really - she refuses to ever indulge in any of those gross activities.

Also, the constant use of healing craft puts immense toll on her body, causing her to be get craft-exhausted for short periods of time. If she happens to overuse healing craft, it may cause her to nosebleed, cough up blood, inability to use crafts or even loss of consciousness. Overall, Mirabelle does not have it easy.

MOMMY i mean what

~ ~ ~

Odile; Acrophobia ( fear of heights )

Effects; Fragile ( she old )

Info;

An Outlander from Ka Bue, a country from across the ocean. Researcher of.. something. Due to being an old lady, Odile has a much more fragile body, making up with her powerful craft skills and knowledge. During battles, her first turn always consists of Analyzing an enemy, in order to work out a tactic against it. She is scared of heights, and that is commonly known throughout the party, being the one thing that they can genuinely get back at her for relentlessly teasing them at times.

She is also subconsciously considered a mother figure of the party. She had seen many, many messed up things throughout her own travels, as well as after joining the others. Because of that, she may have became a bit numb towards violence and overall gruesome displays, which in turn sometimes greatly disturbs the rest of her companions. Still, Odile remains highly protective towards them, especially Bonnie, sternly forbidding them from joining in on actual battles, and instead staying in the back and sometimes helping out with tonics.

The things she wouldn't do in order to keep those she deems dear to her safe. One could easily underestemite her for being just an old lady with a love for books and learning more about the world around her, when in reality, she is ruthless towards those that dare to land a hand on her family.

MOMMY RULES

poor bonnie ;w; give them pinapple and headpats

~ ~ ~

Bonnie; Atelophobia ( fear of being useless )

Effects; Traumatized, Emotionally unstable

Info;

A pre-teen from the Vaugardian village Bambouche. Bonnie is severely traumatized, their young brain quickly folding under the cruelty and unfairness of this world, and always strives to impress those around them. Their entire village have been frozen in time, the curse swallowing everyone they knew, alongside their older sister Petronille. The only thing they've got left is their hat, oversized, damaged, and yet, very important to them, because it belonged to their sister.

Overcome by anger and grief, they made the impulsive decision to go through the country all on their own, wanting to face The King by themselves. Of course, they were too weak for that, being just a child, and as their exhaustion caught up with them after days of traveling on their own and desperately avoiding Sadnesses, they were eventually forced into a fight with one. It would've killed them, if it wasn't for Siffrin, which noticed them and saved them just in time.

Bonnie feels immense guilt at the sacrifice of Siffrin's eye for their life, and distances themselves from the situation. And even though their childish nature still shines through their numb shell, they will never forgive themself for having another person lose their eye for them. They try to make up the fact of them being utterly useless in combat, with the fact that they can cook very well. They're trying their hardest.

They are also incredibly clumsy, especially when stressed- leading them to getting hurt often, resulting in countless band-aids and bandages on their body. One particularely nasty occurance was that they accidentally knocked a pan off of the stove, causing oil burns across their left arm, left wrist, and chest. They are also emotionally unstable, and consider acting angry to be "strong," and "adult-like," so that's exactly how they act like most of the time, especially towards Siffrin. As time goes on though, they warm up more and more towards the members of the party. And now that their home, their friends, their family is gone- they eventually start considerring the rest of their party as family- even though they won't admit it.

~ ~ ~

YAY I actually speedran drawing THREE CHARACTERS!!! We already had Siffrin, we had Isabeau, now we have Mirabelle, Odile and Bonnie! Who's the last one? :0

The Universe's Favorite Cosmic Joke, of course! Look forward to that tomorrow, alongside some more doodles regarding the AU probably :D

( also, to the bozo relentlessly spamming my inbox, pls do keep harrassing me. it's funny )

[twst-kumi]

Weeping Maiden [ACT I] CHAPTER 11

[Act I] CHAPTER 11

[Name] woke up in her room in Royal Dawn Dormitory. Flora was dozing off on the armchair by her bed. The fairy’s eyes looked puffy from crying. Flora woke up startled by the young girl snorting. The old woman looked at her for a minute before bawling. She was so loud that she could hear running in the mini castle. 

Ambrose barged in the room holding his robe up. He looked disheveled while panting. His eyes darted everywhere before he saw [Name] smiling awkwardly. It was his turn to cry.

“_Oh my sweet child! I was so worried.”

Alerted by the commotion, the other came to see what was happening. Aurelius also teared up as he saw the young girl. She was alive and well. 

“_ Don't scare us like that ever again. 

_ Yes, I'm sorry. I swear I didn't mean to worry.

_ It's not about you worrying us, my dear child. It was dangerous. You could have died.” 

The director said glaring at her worriedly. He wanted to protect her. Not only was she his most delicate student, but she was first and foremost his daughter blood related or not. [Name]’s heart fluttered in front of his sincere eyes.

“_ It's a parent's job to take care and worry about their child. And a father's job to protect their daughter.”

The young girl couldn't say anything. Her heart felt heavy with unknown emotions. She didn't know how to react to it, but it felt good somehow. Like she was waiting for such words, she couldn't stop her tears trailing down her cheek. The old man held her in her arms and [Name] broke down wailing like a little kid. She couldn't help but cry as he hugged her tightly. It was warm. Ambrose’s embrace felt so warm around her. 

A few minutes after, her eyes were puffy and red gaining her some teasing laugh from Vil and the rest. 

“_You look like a baby chick who hatched with your eyes like that.

_Nooo, baby chick are ugly when they hatch.”

[Name] whined still sniffing here and there. The group laughed relieved everyone was alright. They got out with only a few scratch and bruise nothing to heavy. The most worrying peoples were Neige and her who were unconscious for two days. Neige woke up yesterday.

“_About Neige…” 

[Name] started to explain what she saw in his memories as they listened calmly. There was a silence for a moment until Alexis talked.

“_Like I give a fuck! He drugged you! Don't expect me to go easy on him because of his sob story.” 

Aurelius winced at his colorful language but agreed with him nonetheless. [Name] smiled gently at them.

“_ I'm not asking you to forgive him. I'm just stating the core reason for Neige's Overblot. Neige is incapable of valuing himself for what he is. For him, his worth can only be equated to his usefulness.” 

She understood this feeling better than anyone. As a former child actor and having grown up in a toxic family, she understood what Neige had gone through. Unlike her, Neige was probably not aware of his own abuse. 

“_ I see… Well, you may want to know. I decided to exclude Neige for a week.

_ Only a week? Don't tell me you are planning to let him go scoff free!”

[Name] looked at Vil who frowned at Ambrose’s words. She wanted to comments on how Crowley is letting every Overblotted students off the hook without any repercussions. Aside from Leona who almost got disqualified for Magicshift. The RSA director only laughed.

“_ Of course not. But I think that everyone can get a second chance, if they do show determination and sincerity. The same could be said for you. When I call for you as a primary suspect, I wanted to give you a chance to defend yourself. And if you were the culprit, a chance to redeem yourself.”

Vil couldn’t say if he was unconfortable or just jealous. The director knew Neige longer than him, so it was normal to trust him more than the actor. On the opposite, Crowley didn’t hesitate to send Vil the moment the school reputation was brought up. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Thanks to Ambrose, Vil was able to return to school. He covered it as a flu, he and [Name] caught that. The young girl coming from a different and closeted “land”, her immunity system was a bit weaker than them. It was the excuse they gave everyone to explain their absences. 

“_Where is Neige? I would like to talk to him before he leave.”

There was another silence. 

“_Hey! You heard her? So, are you going to hide behind that wall longer?”

Alexis growled looking toward the open door. They could see a shoulder flinching but no other mouvement. Seeing that he wasn’t going to move, the gentle-looking boy felt even more pissed.

“_ COME IN!!! YOU PIECE OF S…. syrup! I was going to say syrup.”

Everyone looked at him unconvinced and Aurelius couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle. He was going to be in trouble if he continued to swear like a sailor. Vil on other side was wondering if it was a normal for small and delicate looking boys to have a foul mouth. This was the second one after Epel. That being said hearing Neige getting insulted didn’t felt bad. He will acknowledge that Neige’s situation was sad, but it didnt mean he would like him. If anything, he had even more resentment toward him. 

Neige walked inside, his eyes darted to the floor unable to confront their stare. Taking on the cue, Ambrose made everyone leave. Aurelius and Alexis couldn’t help but glare at Neige. 

“_Scream if he try to do anything suspicious. 

_ Yeah, we will beat him for you if he try anything so don’t worry.”

Aurelius and Alexis said while burning hole with their glare on Neige. Vil felt refreshed in a way. Look like RSA too could be a little violent. 

Alone, Neige and [Name] looked at each other for moment. The boy looked devastated, remorse was obvious on his face. 

“_ I’m sorry… I… 

_ I never liked you more than a friend, Neige.”

Neige flinched a little. He could feel a lump forming in his throat. He looked at her before smiling at her. He tried to push back on his need to cry. He was  aware, she didn’t share his feeling.He was going to use this week to reflect on it. Deep down he felt like he didn’t have any right on loving her or coveting her affection.

“_ I know… I’m quite aware of it now. I just want to say it at least once. I love you, [Name].”

[Name] was speechless for a moment. His eyes shined with a resolve she never saw in him before. Something changed in him, he looked a little bit more like a man rather than a delicate boy. Both exchanged a small laugh before Neige stood up to leave. She rejected his confession but at least she acknowledged it. 

Neige was walking down the stair under the two freshmen’s glare. It was understandable for them to hate him. Remembering something, he stopped in his tracks and looked at them. 

“_Please, take care of her.

_We don’t need you to tell us that. 

_Just leave already!”

Neige chuckled a little looking at the two. What a duo of  brave little knight they were. 

“_Right, before I forgot. Don’t trust Henry that much.”

Aurelius frowned a little. What does his dormleader have to do with all this? The young man felt his stomach churn. Pushing his worry aside, he walked back inside the bedroom once he was sure Neige left the dorm. 

Act I: Poison of Delusion. (END)

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Tag

@cocomollo @owodi @illytian

[wordstome]

the very first night (ntwdt pt 2)

tell me that you hate it hate that i'm no longer in your reach if i can't hear you say it maybe you can't change it, but if you never if you never put it on the line how am i gonna sign for it?

alpha colonel König x beta ex-lover reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, reader's callsign is Eden, reader speaks French, omegaverse, exes to lovers, fraternization, fantasy version of military protocol, probable incorrect use of "copy"

2.2k words

tw: mentions of dead bodies and vague violence, dirty talk, könig is in rut but no actual sex happens, mention of grinding

Do you guys still even remember this au??? 😅 I'm back to writing this fic with this specific format just like the last time I had bad writer's block. I'm sorry that I basically made you guys take a poll and then immediately disregarded the results :( metalhead König is going to be the next one published, and then kosovo maiden. Anyway, this is less of a foray into the omegaverse as it is into exploring a married couple's dynamic. Forgive me if it's inaccurate, I've never been married. (Several of the people who will probably read this are married so...I might be really embarrassing myself here lol)

“Two on your six, O’Conor.”

König watches as his colleague takes down his pursuants with practiced ease. “Good to have someone watching over me, Eden.” the man roughs into his comms.

“It was my pleasure, Declan.”

“Can you two keep the flirting off the main comms?” Fender huffs. König hears O’Conor snort before the line goes quiet.

“Steady,” Horangi says next to him.

“What?” König says.

“You’re breathing like an angry bull. It’s unnerving.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s obvious you’re mad O’Conor’s flirting with your ex-wife.”

“She’s not—“ König lets out a sigh of defeat and tips his head away from the scope. “She can do whatever she wants. I’m not her keeper.”

“Right, which is why you’re white-knuckling your rifle and giving off the most furious pheromones I've ever felt."

König gives his friend a deadly side eye. “Can I help you?”

“Nah. Just confirming what I already know”, Horangi answers, unbearably smug.

König rolls his eyes and returns to the task at hand.

The two of you avoid each other, mostly.

When you’re forced to interact, it's with stiff professionalism. Cold and distant. The way it was when it was really, really bad.

You spend your time becoming closer to the other operators. O'Conor, for one, is someone you find yourself growing close to. In your line of work, it's usually not a good idea to get too attached to someone who may not see the next day, but it's part of your job to know these people now.

They're so competent that you can ignore the obvious, anyway.

König's always been competent, but watching him work nowadays is strange, like watching a remake of a nostalgic childhood film.

His movements are the same. He flicks his wrist the same way, with a heartbeat's worth of pause before the movement. Him taking cover, leaning with that awful posture you always got on his case about.

But everything about him is more ruthless, more efficient. The unrefined brutality of his youth is replaced with a honed precision that is foreign to you.

It stings, though you know the feeling has no right to exist.

You can't keep yourself from reminiscing about the past, when everything about him was familiar. When you knew him so well, it was enough to save both your lives.

"We've lost comms with König."

Your heart drops into your throat. You've been on several ops with him at this point, but this has never happened before.

"What do you mean you've lost comms?"

"He's not responding."

"What?" Fear grips your heart at everything that implies.

"He's in your building, Eden. Find him and extract. Copy."

You move slowly, like ice is flowing through your veins. "Copy."

You will yourself to calm down. Lost communications doesn't mean anything but lost communications. Panicking that you're going to encounter his body will only ensure you end up as a corpse as well. Besides, who could ever take down a man like that, tall like a giant and quick like a viper as he is?

If you had lost comms, what would you do? Re-establish them, of course. Pick your way out of the building and do everything in your power to reconnect with your team. From where König entered, he'd be exiting the building on the east side. You turn to head that way, then hesitate.

König's not you, though. He's not like any other member of the team. Proud, arrogant, vicious König, far more so than other alphas. You used to be afraid of him while he was at work, but eventually you came to realize that was simply how he was in his element—a different persona he wore to battle. As much as you wished he would be sensible and take the safe route, König would never take the safe route. He'd be carrying on the mission on his own, moving towards the target at the center of the building.

But he's a professional. No matter how good he is at what he does, he's not a one-man army, and he knows the right thing to do would be to extract. It's a gamble. If you head towards the east exit and he's not there, you could be losing precious time to find him. But if you head towards the center, you could be walking right into a fight you can't win and become overwhelmed.

You let out a shaky breath and attempt to calm your mind. What would he do? What is he thinking? If you make the wrong call, if you don't know your lover as well as you think you do, one of you won't be walking out of here. You close your eyes and think.

You open them with newfound determination and turn towards the center of the building.

You'd been right, of course, judging by the fallen enemies you find as you move through the hallways. But you don't allow yourself to feel sure until the moment you lay eyes on him, securing the target—a hard drive containing sensitive information.

"König!" you hiss, just as he whips towards you, gun drawn. He relaxes when he sees it's only you. Despite the fraught situation you're in, you can't help yourself from dashing towards him and burying your face into his chest in a hug.

"Eden," he says, his relief evident.

"You stupid motherfucker," you hiss. "You should have extracted the moment your comms cut out."

His eyes crinkle up behind his mask the way they always do when he smiles. "You knew I wouldn't."

"Yes, because I am burdened with being one of the few people on this earth who knows you like the back of my hand. Atlas holding up the sky," you grumble.

"I know you're relieved to see me," he responds, joy evident in his tone.

You let out a sigh. "Can we just get out of here?"

"Aye-aye, captain."

You could do without those memories, you think whenever the two of you trade clipped exchanges during ops now.

König still has traces of the arrogance of his youth, but it shows through less now. He's wiser, more patient and far less reckless.

You catch yourself admiring how good of a leader he's become. His connection with his teammates is like muscles flexing a hand.

You're no longer a part of that nervous system.

In fact, he's always catching you off guard now.

The energy in the common area is weird today.

You can’t quite put your finger on it. It’s like everyone’s walking on eggshells, but at the same time, nobody’s mood seems to be that affected. It’s like you’re all mice living in someone’s walls: going about business as usual, but with some looming threat casting a pall over everything.

“Is it just me or does the energy on base feel off today?” you ask Calisto.

“Oh. Yeah, that. Don’t worry about it,” she says. She swings open the refrigerator and pulls out coffee creamer. “No need for concern. König’s in rut.”

You do a double take. “He is?”

“Yeah.” She’s casual about it as she dumps cream and sugar into her coffee. “Usually he has a pretty light rut—he just gets testy and irritated. But for some reason this time is bad.” She offers you the cream, but you shake your head. “Don’t know what’s up with him, but he had to barricade himself in his room. His scent is driving people up the wall.”

You stare at the table in front of you. It can’t be a coincidence that König’s rut gets worse as soon as you’re near him again, can it?

When you look up, Horangi is staring at you from across the room. Slowly, he raises his mug to his lips, never once taking his eyes off of you.

You swallow the lump in your throat.

Calisto was right. The scent is overwhelming, but it's also familiar. You can't blame the others for avoiding the area. If you'd never dealt with him in this state before, you'd be hightailing it out of there too. Which is why you're doing this despite...everything.

You hover outside his door, trying to gather yourself, or work up the nerve to knock, or anything. It doesn’t matter in the end, though.

“I can smell you, liebling,” comes his voice, deep and growling and verging on feral. A shiver runs up your spine. You haven’t been called that in a long, long time.

“I only came here to bring you things. Water and…snacks.” you stammer, instantly hating yourself for how weak you sound.

“All these years later…and you still smell the same.” He blows right past your feeble little excuse, not even dignifying it with a response.

“I’m just here to check on you,” you murmur.

“Is that so.” You gasp as you hear a loud thud against the door from the other side. Oh God, it’s him, his body heat almost burning through the wood, pressed so close that you can hear his heaving breaths. “How kind of you.”

“It’s the least I can do, considering…”

“Considering it’s your fault I’m like this in the first place?”

Your legs feel weak. “Yes.”

His voice is silky, dangerous despite the barely restrained lust behind it. “Good girl.”

“That’s not fair,” you whisper.

“That’s a shame. You used to like it when I called you that. Still do, according to my nose.”

You wish he wasn’t right, but he is. You’re so slick that you’re soaking your underwear.

“Do you want the water or not?”

“Are you going to come with it?”

“I—”

“Because I promise you, if you’re still standing there when I open this door, you will get fucked against it.” He sounds like a savage animal snapping his jaws in hunger, and fuck, your body feels hot and weak in response. Every cell in your body is screaming out for you to throw open that door and let him fuck you limp. If you told him to break down the door, you’re sure that he would.

“You can’t say that anymore,” you whisper, hating the words as they leave you.

That seems to bring König back to rationality. You can picture him now on the other side of the door, shoulders slumping as he withdraws back into himself. "I...I'm sorry."

You slide down to sit on the ground with your back to the door, gripping a water bottle in a clenched fist. "It's like no time has passed at all, huh?"

You hear him let out a shaky breath, clearly trying to collect himself and bite back words he can't say. "Yeah."

That's the thing, isn't it? Your biology and his got the two of you into this situation in the first place. Very little of that has changed. Even though you've grown distanced in your minds, your bodies haven't forgotten the connection.

You're still struggling with how to feel about that. So much of your life has been dictated by what your body needs and wants. You've spent just as much time bucking against those needs and wants, so much that it feels like second nature.

"All of this...it takes me back. Do you remember the first night I spent with you during a rut?" you say. For a while you don't think he's heard you, but then he responds.

"How could I forget? It's my most embarrassing memory."

"Still?"

"I swore I would never let something like that happen again."

You giggle a little. "It was cute, for what it's worth." That first time, you'd come prepared with water and food, just like you had tonight, prepared for a long night full of...strenuous exercise. Instead, König had gotten so overwhelmed at his first rut with a partner that he came by just grinding on your leg and immediately fell into a 12-hour sleep.

"Yeah, you've said that. Doesn't make me cringe any less."

"And I'll say it again, it wasn't as bad as you think it is." You idly trace the cap of the water bottle with a fingertip. "There's no shame between us."

Another long pause before he responds. "Was."

A dull, throbbing pain nestles itself below your sternum.

"It...doesn't have to be past tense," you put forth tentatively.

"Doesn't it? We've gone right back to being strangers. You're still on the other side of the door."

You bite your lip. You can't deny that, nor the distance that's grown between the two of you.

This is all happening too fast. You don't know if you want to close the gap. You don't know if you're ready to make amends, after what happened.

"You're in no condition to have this conversation," you say, to distract both him and yourself.

"Conversation with you is hard to come by nowadays."

"Well...let's change that. Starting when your rut's over. Let's try talking like normal people again." This time, you don't know if you can blame your stupid biology for the relief you feel saying that. Maybe this time it's nothing but you and your treacherous heart.

You hear a thump against the door, but not an aggressive one. More like he's leaned his head against it. "I guess we have to start somewhere."

More silence. Then he speaks again, his voice tremulous.

"Can you stay? It's easier when you're here."

You swallow, your mouth gone dry like a desert. You can barely manage your next two words. "Of course."

The rest of the night is quiet, but you know he's there. At one point, you can even hear his steady, even breathing. Somewhere along the way, you notice that your breathing has synced with his.

The two of you fall asleep like that, propped up next to each other with a single layer of wood between you.

I miss you like it was the very first night...

I only revised this once while exhausted out of my fucking mind at 3am, so forgive me if anything's awkward or clunky. I'll probably go through it again in the morning (and die of cringe). But there we go! I hope you guys enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts and comments <3

Regarding my tag lists: I've had to leave out a few people, so if you see your url missing from this, please let me know and I'll add you back. Also, apologies if you're here despite not asking to be tagged for this particular story. I haven't gotten around to sorting out fic-specific taglists yet 🥲

@kneelingshadowsalome @danibee33 @crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @cookiepie111 @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @hexqueensupreme @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @deaddainish @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria @complexivelovely @black-moon-bunny @kit-williams @shebibtedmypepnis @mafer383

[frost-queen]

The moment I knew // part 4 (Reader!Bridgerton x Tewkesbury)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @cayt0123, @powwowsworld, @yomamacrusty, @mileyy22, @omgsuperstarg, @helen06dreamer, @misscaller06, @l4venderia

Summary: Blink and it will pass... a year has passed now. Having left for your education and proper lady-like manners. Now having returned the memories of before seek your mind with sorrows and promises. Only a week till the new season begins, but first families be reunited. [ part 1 & part 2 & part 3 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 part 8 & part 9 & part 10 ]

Loud heels clicked onto the marble floor. A hastened pace, skirt gentle pulled a bit up to not trip over it. Loud breathing damping the hallways. – “Miss Bridgerton.” – the voice called out. – “Miss Bridgerton.” – it repeated a hand moved near their mouth to call out clearer. The heels clacked louder as it picked up their pace. A loud swallow to catch their breath. – “Miss B…” – they called out once more rounding a corner. The last of their words swallowed back in at the sight of you.

You slowly turned to them with a warm smile. – “Yes governess.” – you spoke elegantly. The governess exhaled deep, pressing her hand deep onto her chest. – “I…I… you were not in your room.” – she explained approaching you. You nodded still smiling. – “I hope you forgive me; I was too excited to return home.” – you replied eyeing the suitcase standing at your feet. Your governess sighed deep coming closer.

“I hope it is not because of that boy?” – she asked you, bowing down to take your suitcase. – “He is not some boy!” – you called out. – “He is to be my husband.” – you explained to her. Your governess snorted loud. – “You haven’t even debuted yet.” – she concluded giving a nod to the doorman to open the door. – “A week isn’t that long anymore.” – you stated with a smile full of mischief. Your governess sighed again as she gave your suitcase to the clerk who came standing in the door opening. The clerk turned round and headed over to the carriage with your suitcase.

Your governess returned to you. – “Now do you have everything?” – she asked plucking a bit at your shoulders. Every little detail had to be perfect in her eyes. You hummed loud. She took a deep breath letting her hands slide down your arms. – “I remember how you arrived here. Still a young strong-minded girl.” – she said. – “I still am.” – you chuckled out. – “You are but you have also grown a lot.” – she corrected. – “You wouldn’t stop dreaming.” – she tapped you on the nose, pulling you out of a small daydream.

She then sighed deep. – “I am going to miss you Miss Bridgerton, for this house shall become silent once more. It’s whirlwind of laughter and dance leaving.” – her words made you swallow the forming knot in your throat down. Seeing how she started to become sentimental. You couldn’t have it for you would cry for sure. – “Governess please, let us spare our tears.” – you said brushing your finger against her cheek.

She smiled with teary eyes. – “You… you are absolutely right.” – she took a step back, holding both your hands up. – “As always.” – She curtsied, dipping her head down. You pulled her back up, curtsying for her out of gratitude. – “I shall miss you.” – you told her. Suddenly you heard a chaos of voices and loud heels clacking against the marble. Around the corner arrived a storm of maidens of the household.

“Thank Goodness.” – One exclaimed hastening herself over. – “She has not left yet.” – another one spoke pulling a friend with her. Your governess let go of your hands, taking a few steps back. The swarm of maidens hastened over to you. You got overwhelmed in the biggest hug. It was impossible to link any arm or touch to a person. – “Oh Miss Bridgerton think of us.” – Grace said squeezing you tight into a hug. – “Write to us.” – Olive spoke hugging you from behind. – “We’ll miss you.” – some cried out unable to hold back their tears.

“If you ever need a hand maiden.” – Irene said pushing her way through. – “Or two!” – Grace pitched in once more. – “Girls! Girls!” – the governess called out for some order. She started tapping the girls on their shoulders with a fan to dismiss them from around you. – “Miss Bridgerton needs to leave.” – she said out loud. You felt Olive’s hands slip out of yours.

“If I could, I would enlist you all in my household.” – you told them with tears in your eyes. The space around you grew bigger giving you more breathing. – “Girls please manners.” – the governess pointed them on. – “I’ll try to convince my husband about the matter.” – you told them. Your governess ticked on the shoulder with her fan. – “You are not married yet.” – she made clear. Grace giggled loud. – “She practically is.”

“Miss Bridgerton must leave now!” – Your governess insisted upon. She shoved you towards the door. The girls following after you. The governess stood in the door opening like a brick wall. Firm and sturdy to not let any of her household girls through. The girls didn’t care, trying to look through any gap to wave at you. – “Do not forget about us!” – Irene shouted sitting in Mary’s back. – “Visit us when you can!” – Olive called out waving excitedly over the governess’s shoulder. – “Invite us to the wedding!” – Grace screamed out to be heard over the loud well wishes of the girls.

You waved back at them standing by the carriage. You blew them a kiss before getting in. The clerk closed the door as you scooted closer to the window to look outside to them. – “I won’t forget you!” – you called out waving. The carriage got in motion as it pulled you back in the seat. The carriage rode turned to ride to the pathway leading to civilization.

You saw that the girls had broken free from the sturdy wall of your governess. Running after the carriage and waving as wild as they could. Seeing how much they cared for you made you cry. A bittersweet goodbye. After a long year of being apart from your family and Tewkesbury for your education and preparations for your debut. You still remembered the day you left.

After your mother and Anthony had delivered the news that you would be send away for a year, it crashed down on you. A whole year without Tewkesbury. They found it better for your education to be elsewhere where you couldn’t be distracted by him. Perhaps your brother hoped you’d forget about him in the year separated. It was foolish of them to think so. How could you ever give up on Tewkesbury as he held your heart in all its mighty form.

He was the very essence you breathed. That day you had left. Needing time alone. Of course you were never allowed to go alone so Colin was with you. You pulled the carriage to a stop seeing him at the park. You swung the doors open as the carriage had not come to a full stop yet. – “Y/n!” – Colin would shout out jumping out after you. You couldn’t care, only thinking of him.

Tears swelled up thinking about having to say goodbye to him. – “Y/n!” – Colin kept chasing you trying to catch up with you. Tewkesbury, who was near the trees, noticed you, turning his posture more to you. He furrowed his brows quizzable at your running. You jumped into his arms feeling his arms close around you. The impact making you spin round with him till he slowed down. Colin came to slow down out of breath. – “What is it Y/n?” – Tewkesbury asked brushing his hand up your neck to the back of your head.

Only shaking your head you couldn’t get the words out. – “Y/n.” – Colin breathed out, giving a nod to Tewkesbury. Tewkesbury bowed his head back to him, moving you at arms-length of him. – “Y/n we can not linger.” – Colin spoke. – “The carriage will take you away in an hour.” – Tewkesbury’s eyes widened with fear. – “Wait? You are leaving?” – he called out in a panic. You nodded, tears running down your cheeks. Tewkesbury’s world felt like collapsing into nothingness. – “Where are you going? Will you return? I…I…Miss Bridgerton I… will I ever see you again?” – he called out needing desperate answers as his hands cherished your face.

Colin stepped in to speak. – “It is only for a year.” – he explained. – “Mother wishes for her to fulfill her education elsewhere before her debut next year.” – Colin added making Tewkesbury look briefly at him. – “A whole year.” – you cried out. Tewkesbury smiled saddened wiping some tears away. – “It will be over before you know it.” – he said to you.

You sniffed loud, blinking to stop your tears. – “I…I…I don’t want to part from you.” – you answered brushing your thumb against his chin. – “Neither do I.” – he replied with a deep breath. Tewkesbury held your hands up preventing you from wrapping them tightly around him. You started to get angry, frustrated at him for not welcoming you. For not accepting your tears of sorrow. Tewkesbury wanted, but he couldn’t. Not with your brother watching.

His heart ached as much as yours cried. – “I don’t want to go…” – you cried out. – “Take me with you. Make me yours. Please don’t leave me.” – you begged never wanting to part from him. Tewkesbury shook his head knowing he couldn’t. Neither could survive a scandal. It needed to be done the proper way. Nothing else. His grandmother would not stop hunting him if he so much as married you in secret.

The fear of her hurting you haunting his mind. Tewkesbury pressed you close to him, arms tightly around you. – “Remember my promise.” – he whispered close to your ear. – “Remember it every day.” – he went on. You sobbed loud wrapping your arms over his shoulders. – “What is a year against a lifetime of love.” – he said looking off into the distance.

“Blink and it will pass.” – he continued looking briefly over to your brother. – “I don’t want to leave you.” – you sobbed out. – “Nor shall you. I will remain here in agony, waiting for your return. For I shall count every day till I can call you mine. You are my heart, my body and soul.”

You let go of Tewkesbury as did he. – “Will you write?” – you asked him with a faint smile. – “Every day for numerous times.” – he responded. You looked over your shoulder to your brother Colin. Seeing how glossy his eyes had become. Tewkesbury took your hand, bowing as his head dipping against your hand. You curtsied at the same time saying your goodbye’s. Stepping back your hand slowly slipped out of his till it dropped at your side.

Colin came closer laying his hand on your shoulder. – “Blink and it will pass.” – he repeated Tewkesbury’s words with a saddened smile. You forced your eyes shut, shuddering out a breath. Fluttering them open you saw the blurry image of him between your tears. Moving backwards he faded away. Drawing further away from you till he was nothing but a mark in the painting of your eyes. Colin helped you into the carriage.

As the door shut, he took your hand gently. Looking up at him, you saw something in his eyes. A reflection of poetry of belief. As if seeing clearly for the first time. A glance you had seen numerous times in Benedict’s eyes whenever he was compelled by the arts. A deepness inside that reflected the beauty within.

Fluttering your eyelashes you became aware of your surroundings once more. The carriage hobbled over the gravely road as it had awoken you from a memory. The taste of dryness on your lips as you wetted them gently. Familiar streets and boutique’s rose up as a sense of homesickness struck you. A tugging feeling increasing by each movement. Not for a year have you seen any of your siblings. Having no idea what their lives are now. How grown your younger siblings are.

Has any of them perhaps found love besides dearest Daphne? Would they have thought off you every day? Regretted their decision to take you away. Away from any distractions. Would they still find you the same? You didn’t think so. Over the year with your courses you had changed much. Matured more. Glorified with grace and manners. Even now upon looking at yourself you didn’t feel the same. It was noticeable in the little things.

How perfectly lady-like you sat. The change in posture to a proud young lady. No more time for silliness. Prepared to take upon the duty of finding a husband. The carriage rounded a corner as you took in a deep breath. Nearing the street of your beloved home. Easily you spotted the violets. The house coming in sight as the carriage stopped in front of its open gate. You shuffled a bit closer to the window, looking outside. Not a single soul waiting for you.

The ache in your heart began to grow. Perhaps you weren’t missed. Before you could fully sink in self-pity opened the door. Two, three, four at a time trying to squeeze themselves through the door. The footman opened the door for you as you stepped out of the carriage with his help. Anthony being the first to reach you. He picked you up, spinning around with you as you heard him exhale relieved. – “I want to see her!” – you heard with impatience. – “Anthony I want to.” – feeling the tugging on your dress it was no doubt your younger siblings.

Anthony wouldn’t let go of you. Slowing his spinning down but tightening his grip around you. Your feet touched the ground once more as a figure squeezed itself between the two of you. Anthony got pushed off you making way for Gregory and Hyacinth. They both wrapped their arms around you. You hugged them back feeling sentimental. Anthony got pulled back by his shoulder, the younger one’s ignored as Benedict smiled with a happy return at you.

His arms wrapped around you as the younger one’s were forced out of the way. – “The counting days have finally come to an end.” – he told you, hugging you tighter. – “For I could not bare another one.” – Lip trembling you felt yourself be overcome with sadness. Benedict kissed your cheek. Anthony joined the two of you leaving a kiss on your head. Your brothers made way to reveal Colin. Noticing the tears rolling down his cheek. You slowly stepped away from your brothers over to him.

Embracing him in a warm hug. – “Look at you.” – he said sniffling. – “How much you’ve grown.” – he added. – “I am still shorter than you.” – you teased hearing him laugh loud. – “As long as you have not overgrown me.” – looking beside Colin you saw Eloise. Her smile unsure whether to show sadness or relief. You pulled her in for a hug. Eloise and you parted as she took a good look at you.

“Urgh how lady-like they have made you.” – she commented as it was in her good nature. Francesca giggled. – “We’ll mark the day till you achieve such greatness sister.” – she teased at Eloise whilst receiving a hug from you. Eloise stuck her tongue out to her. – “Mother is inside.” – Francesca whispered to you. You nodded letting go of her. You took a deep breath preparing yourself to head inside. Inside the house you had missed for a year. It felt big.

A shaking weight making each step of yours slow down. Almost too afraid to walk inside. A hand slipped in yours. Seconds later another one on your left. Gregory and Hyacinth had taken each one of your hands. – “Welcome home sister.” – they said assisting you inside. Your other siblings following. The door closed behind them as the house filled with chatter. A loving meeting forming behind closed doors.

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[the-fiction-witch]

Say You Want Me Too

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - Y/n (Betrothal) Rating - Flirty Word Count - 1311

A storm rages outside the tall stone walls of Dragonstone, the night sky as dark as obsidian, the sky full of heavy clouds lit only by the occasional sparks of lighting that flash across the sky, thunder often rumbling the bowels of the castle. Jacaerys sat in his chambers reading his high valerian study book in bed by candlelight, already dressed for bed often muttering words to himself,

“Se guēse's skoriot… skoriot… nektogon ilagon va se endia… tistālior…” He mutters to himself,

When suddenly a timid knock comes on his door,

"Enter!" the young prince said, expecting the maester or his younger brother perhaps.

Slowly the door creaks open and as he glances up he takes a double take to check he is indeed seeing what he thinks he is, as much to his surprise he sees his betrothal Y/n, in her small blue velvet slippers and sky blue silk nightie with silver embroidery. Her hair in a tight braid that falls around her shoulder, a candlestick in her hand. She closes the door and stands sheepishly, "I pray I am not disturbing you, my lord Velaryon,"

Jacaerys's mind was racing, His heart beat faster as he realised what this situation could entail, What reason could she have for coming here? This late? Is she in search of comfort? and the fact that Y/n was in such a state was causing certain, desires to arise. "No, my Lady, you are not disturbing me. What reason do you have to seek me out? Is something amiss?"

She slowly approached his bed but she stopped before getting too close, she trembled as she held her small candle almost forcing out her words, "Forgive me I do not wish to be any trouble,"

"You do not know the trouble you cause me my lady," he thought, "So, what brings you to my chambers this late at night?"

she blushed slightly her head tips down to the floor before she gathered the strength to meet his eyes once more, even if her eyes do flick down to him in his bed, "I do not mean to be trouble" she blushed, "forgive me, I am still... New to Dragonstone, and we do not get storms such as this back home... I admit, I am frightened." She explained "I know that must seem foolish to yourself my lord Velaryon, you have been here so long and... Ride the back of a dragon, and fight with sword and lance… I know the idea of rain and lightning in being fearful must seem childish,"

Jacaerys smiles as he sees his maiden blush. "No, no, do not you dare say that. There is nothing childish about feeling fear." He reaches his arms out for her. "Come, my lady, there is no need to be frightened when I am here I will protect you from anything, be it lightning or bandits or anything else that you may have to fear. But for now, you can get into my bed, I will not let anything come to hurt you.”

“Are you sure my lord?”

“I am, come on.” He smiled,

she blushed and set down her candle before she moved closer, she took his hands her skin soft in his rougher hands,

Jacaerys smiles and moves to make space to sit with her in his large bed. "Now, my lady, all you need to do is relax and close your eyes, and I promise I will protect you from anything that can harm you. I ask only one thing of you..." He smiled,

"thank you, my lord, you did not have to be so kind to me" she giggled feeling him so close, "what is it you ask my lord?" She asks squeezing his hands in hers,

Jacaerys chuckles, "There is nothing that I can ask of you that you do not already give me...But,” Jacaerys can hardly contain himself, he wants his little betrothal but he must remain composed. "Can I... Have a kiss, my lady?" He asks her, his words breathless as his heart beats harder.

She blushed at her betrothal’s request, her eyes flickering down to the bed a moment before she looked up and nodded moving and pressing her lips to his cheek, her lips soft and smooth her whole self smelled like honey, when she pulled back her face is red and she squeezed his hands, Jacaerys squeezes her hands his heart is pounding so fast he cannot hold still as he stares into her eyes. He can barely control himself,

"My lady..." He whispers to her, his voice shaking with intensity, "May I ask you for one last thing?"

"yes, Jacaerys?" she bats her eyes,

Jacaerys moves his hands to her cheeks, "May I ask... for a kiss… on the mouth?" He is almost trembling now, he cannot control himself. He wants this beauty so badly,

"Are you sure we are not yet married?" she began to tremble,

"We are betrothed my lady, we are to be married..." He said, "A kiss is not enough to ruin that, my lady." he smirked slightly “She is so sweet and innocent,” he thought of taking advantage of her crossed his mind, but he forced it away, "Please? Just one kiss..."

Y/n blushed even harder and squeezed his hands she nodded and shuffled closer she gently pressed her smooth lips to his own, her lips tasted of honey too, her taste and scent almost overwhelmed him as they shared the kiss their lips moved together a few times before a crack of thunder rumbles across the sky and lightning flashes through the chamber which makes her pull away and slightly squeak in fright,

He chuckled at her reaction and moved his hand to the small of her back, drawing her body closer to his enveloping her in his arms, he pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head keeping her close and safe, "By the gods..." he whispers to her, The thunder crackles louder and louder and she buries herself into his chest. He can feel her small frame pressed against him and his instincts are to hold her even tighter.

“I’m sorry I-”

“It’s alright, you're scared. But no need to fear I am right here my lady,”

“Thank you Jace,” but more thunder cracked which made her burrow into his chest in fear,

“Shhh shhh shh it’s okay, I’m here,” He cooed, after a while of quiet he looked down at her he felt the burning desire for the girl that would soon be his bride, how she cuddled him, how she looked in her sweet state and he knows he can’t hold back any longer, "I could never do without you. I need you, my lady".He growled kissing her head, "Please, say the words that will make me yours. I am ready for you".

"what? What are you talking about Jace?"

"I want you my lady... In more ways than one, more than anyone else could ever imagine." He pauses, his words almost catching in his throat. "I love you... and I want you, it is as simple as that."

"I see. I do love you Jace you have been nothing but kind to me since I arrived and I'm sure we shall have a long and happy marriage" She nodded

"But my lady, you do not understand..." he gasped, "You are all I ever wanted, but I want more than what you are telling me. I do not want to wait for marriage, I want it now, now that I have tasted your sweetness"...

"you want what my prince?"

"I want YOU." He says, with great passion and determination. "You, Y/n. Now. please… I beg you… say you want me too.”

“I… I do,” she blushed, “Very much,”

“Then let me make you forget this storm and make this a night we shall remember for the rest of our days,” He stroked her cheek and she nodded so he bit his lip a moment before he pulled her into a intense kiss.