#trope: prince/guard

[cultofdionysusnet]

Check out this Ateez fic written by Topaz!

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑳𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒆𝒅

🍄Pairing: Fae Prince! San x Mushroom Guard! Reader

🍄Au: royal au, fantasy au, fae au

🍄Trope: prince/guard, power dynamic

🍄Genre: smut

🍄Rating: 18+, MDNI

🍄Warnings: descriptors of reader because you are a mushroom fae, dom! reader, sub! san, fear play, begging, making out, rutting/wet humping, degradation, verbal instruction, penetrative sex with no barrier, psychedelic sex (san got high from fucking a mushroom girl), consent before said high sex, pussy-drunk san, oral (f), hair tugging (m)

🍄Word Count: 4,259

🍄Summary: you were created for one sole purpose: to guard the nephew of the Unseelie King. Choi San was arrogantly confident that you would keep him from Death's Door; for if he died, so ended your life as well. But what you did not expect from your Fae Princeling was that he was just as dedicated to your body as you were his.

🍄Author's Note: happy birthday to the man that never fails to make me smile. your hard work and dedication to your craft and to make others around you happy never ceases to amaze me. Here's to your large heart (and even bigger tits)

San entered the ballroom with all the impudence of an arrogant Fae Prince. Nephew to the current King of the Unseelie, San was one of the most important Fae in the room. But he was also very much in danger. 

That’s how you came to be created. No allegiance could be sure, in the Fae realm, and even an oath binding could be wiggled out of with a few loophole words. So, life was breathed into you, as a mushroom. You were created in a woman’s image and your bond to San was that unlike any sworn servant. You see, your life was in San’s hand. You were created to be his loyal guard, and if he so happened to die, then your life would be taken from you as well. 

The whispers ran through the crowd like a wave retreating from the coast. Your deep russet hair, with random white spots and dull ivory skin had not been seen before. The simple rush of being the attention flushed through your body.

“Where did you dig up this beauty, San?” A bored voice drawled.

San ducked his head in greeting to multiple people but smirked towards the one asking this particular question. “From the dark, musky part of the forest.”

You scratched the back of your neck and turned your head to hide your flush. 

“Does she guard your body well?” Another asked.

Your sword whipped from its sheath by your side and wavered at the chest of the Fae who dared demand you did not complete your life's duty to the best of your ability. 

San pushed your sword down with two fingers, chuckling. It drew your sword down the body of the male fae, who looked a little turned on by it, if you were being honest. “Careful now, Wooyoung, that sword is poisonous.”

“Is your uncle really that worried about you?” 

San shrugged like he hadn't a care in the world. 

A spring dryad walked with an extra sway in her hip to your charge. You intercepted her immediately. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I was bid to entertain the prince,” The dryad responded, sending a gratuitous wink towards San.

You smiled but it was full of bitter recognition. “No one is allowed to come near the prince, dryad. Go find someone else to weakly hump.”

The dryad let out a loud ‘humph’, clearly insulted, and found a more receiving Fae Lady. 

San leaned into you from behind to whisper into your ear. “Jealous?”

“No one is touching you,” You insisted, keeping your face blank. 

San mingled during the ball but he did not ask for anyone’s hand to dance. He conversed and drank, spilling out anything that wasn’t approved by you. You ate and drank anything he consumed first, to make sure it wasn’t poisonous. You, of anyone, were the best at discovering if something was poisonous or not. 

But soon, your Fae Prince tired of socializing and was ready to leave the ball. It was truly sad that he was unable to attend the final waltz of the evening. He danced so well. You shook your head. This was no time to get your head full of images of San.

The quiet roar of the crowd fell behind the both of you as you left the ball. San’s smart shoes clicked rhythmically against the wood floor polished with age and use. You kept your ears and eyes open for any threats that thought they could take advantage of the early morning hours. 

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many eyes more interested in someone other than myself,” San said.

You scoffed at his statement. “Oh, you had plenty of eyes on you, My Lord.”

San cocked his head curiously, turning on his heel to look at you. “Did you want to squish those offending eyes with your fingers, Red?”

Your hand tightened on the grip of your sword. “My Lord,” you growled in warning.

San smiled impishly, playing with the black opal bracelet on his wrist. “But it's so fun to tease you!”

You jerked your chin in the direction of San’s rooms. “Shall we get to where it’s safe first and you can tease me all you want?”

San sighed wearily. “Fine, have it your way.”

A tiny bit of stress left your shoulders the minute you closed the door to the suite of rooms that were due to the Unseelie Fae King’s nephew. San did not move to his bedchambers nor did he begin to disrobe, like you had hoped. He was looking to wriggle under your skin with his words like a worm in a rotting apple. 

“I should have insisted you wear a more revealing dress,” San teased, his eyes alit with malicious merriment. “Perhaps that would have lured Yunho to caress that perk little bottom you were created with.”

“My Lord--”

“San, please, Red. We are in my rooms and you shall address me as I prefer. I am your lord, as you say.”

“San, your self destruction is almost an art.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Is it self destruction to--”

You gracefully swung your sword from its sheath and had the tip delicately touching San’s neck, just below his Adam's apple, in mere seconds. “--yes, it is.”

San held himself still, glancing down at the sword and then back to meet your eyes. “You can’t harm me.”

“Wrong,” You corrected him. “I cannot kill you.”

You leaned in slightly and a small cut bled immediately from San’s neck. You gasped when you felt a nick of pain on your neck. You reached up with your free hand to check and came back with black ooze. 

“See.” San smiled crookedly, revealing his canine teeth. “I told you, you can’t harm me.”

You twisted your lips in a grimace. Even your poison would have no effect; San consumed an antidote for your poison every day, for the sake of you simply being unable to harm him. You should have guessed that along with your lives being intertwined, you would be harmed when he was harmed as well. 

In a small fit of rage and rebellion, you whipped your sword in the air and then twirled it to sheath it. San opened his mouth as if to question the sudden embellishment of swordsmanship and then gasped when his decorative armor fell from his body. 

“It is time for you to go to sleep, little lordling,” You commanded. 

San slipped both his hands into the deep pockets of his satin pants. “Put me to sleep?”

You rubbed your face tiredly. “That, most definitely is not a part of my job.”

San stood there, topless, folding one arm behind his head while scratching the back of his neck. “I would like it to be.”

“I am supposed to be guarding you,” You growled. “I can’t do that if you’re inside of me.”

San sent you a boyish grin. “What better way to guard my body than to be as close as you can be?”

 You searched what you assumed was your heart, to see if this was the right choice in your path of your new life. You could feel your heartbeat but was it for the Fae Prince because if his heart withered, yours would go with it? Or was it because the roguishly handsome Lord really had grown on you enough to bed him?

San took a step forward, cautious of your abilities with your sword. He ran a finger along your bare shoulder. “You’re not even a little bit curious?”

“I didn’t have time to be curious,” You spat. 

This wasn’t the first time San had propositioned you. Nor would it be the last if you declined. He was adamantly vying for your body. Something about tonight was pushing you towards finally folding for him. 

“You’ve got time now,” San said. He walked around you, still trailing that finger along your skin. He was behind you now. “So how about it?”

He was temptation, with his muscles gleaming and the satin clinging to his legs. San knew that, you knew that. And of course you were curious. But was the risk worth it?

“If you ask me, I think it’ll only bind us even more,” San whispered, now on your other side. “You will have known me in my most intimate moment and will always be able to protect me.”

“I think someone had a little too much Fairy Wine, my lord,” you mused. 

“Nay.” San shook his head. “You would know me as a giggly fool if I had drunk truly. I am sober and looking to finally bring down your barriers, Red.”

“Want me desperate for you when typically I am reserved?” You mocked him.

San stood in front of you once again. His face was a combination of seriousness and lust. He put his hands on your shoulders and pulled you against him. You didn’t resist him. Your chest was pressed against his when he murmured, “Don’t our hearts beat as one? Shouldn’t we be connected in this final way?”

You tipped your head and kissed your sworn liege lord. His lips were soft and wet and when he sighed into your mouth, your tongue sought to tangle with his. San cupped the back of your head, tilting his head, and deepening the kiss. You allowed him to back you up to his bed and tumbled onto it with him. San managed, with his strength and grace as a Fae, to turn you around so that he hit the bed and didn’t even break the kiss.

You ate at his mouth like he was honey and you couldn't get enough of the sweet, sticky substance. You could feel your body tingling from the kisses but San was fairing much worse. When you broke the kiss, his tongue came out, chasing yours. He lied there, his pupils blown, looking like a panting dog. 

“San, are you quite alright?” You wondered. 

“You are like the sweetest, strongest brandy I have ever drunk.” San smiled lazily. 

You sat back. San appeared… he could not lie so he wasn’t drunk before you began to kiss. The situation was odd. 

Now that you sat back, however, you could not deny what was waiting for you under San’s satin pants. The Fae prince moaned lowly as your ass put pressure against his straining hard-on. His hands found your hips, and he held you in place, so he could grind up into you. “What will it take for you to let me slip inside of you?”

You frowned delicately. You petted your braid in thought. There was something off about this but you could not put your finger on it for the life of you. “Have you been taking your antidote potion regularly?”

“ ‘course I do. Don’t be silly.” He groaned as he pushed his cock between your lips, with only his satin pants as a barrier. He was ruining the garment but it didn’t seem like he cared at the present.

“Very well,” You shrugged. 

You grounded your lower half against San and his back arched off the bed. “Please,” he whimpered. 

“What do you want, San?” You said coolly. “Tell me and I may be able to fulfill your demand.”

San’s eyes widened, as if in an attempt to push off whatever stupor was pulling him in. Was he simply the type of man who became a slave to a cunt until he was satisfied. “Take me, take all of me, deep inside of you. I need to feel encompassed by you.”

“My sweet Fae prince,” You cooed mockingly. “All high and mighty because of his mushroom guard but the minute he gets behind closed doors, he’s a whining mess, rutting up into a pussy that’s always been denied to him.”

San pouted. “You’ll let me have it, right? You won’t let me lie here, begging, will you? Please, I’ll be good.”

You clucked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, moving your hips against San again. “Be good? You don’t know the meaning.”

San raised his hands from your hips and laid them on either side of his head, in abeyance to you. He even kept his eyes lowered but his Adam's apple was bobbing again. “I can try.”

You lifted your lower half up so that you could reach underneath you and yank San’s pants down. San gasped as the cool air suddenly hit his raging hard-on. You grasped his phallus immediately and began to run the head of him along your wet folds under your short copper dress. 

It was a test and San was struggling. His hands made tight fists and he bit hard on his lower lip. “Don’t you want to be inside of me, Sannie? What’s stopping you from…” You angled his cock to be flush with your hole. “...simply penetrating me with one sharp movement, San?”

San whined in the back of his throat. “I can be a good little Fae Prince for you.”

You let go of San’s cock, watching it slap his stomach satisfactorily. You rutted along the length, coating it in your slickness. You didn’t know which god or goddess San was praying to, but his lips moved fervently in silence. As if that would help him. 

You supposed he was taking his oath seriously. He was being good and hadn't attempted to take control since he said he would relinquish his power to you. Perhaps you could reward him.

You leaned down against San’s chest. He was sweating profusely, withholding back was taking a lot out of him. You ran a finger around the areola of his nipple. “Shall you show me what a good boy you can be?”

San nodded very quickly. “What do you need from me?”

“Flip us over and you may penetrate me. But!” You stopped your new lover. “You must go slowly. I want you to watch as every inch enters me.”

San licked his lips, wetting them once again. “And then?”

You chuckled. “Let’s see if you can do it first, Sannie.”

San had you flipped just as quickly as before, albeit slightly more clumsy. “You are the most beautiful mushroom lady I have ever had the pleasure of fucking.”

You snorted. “I am the only one of my kind, Choi San.”

“Still.” San grasped his dick with a soft gasp and then angled it between your open thighs. “You put the majority of the Fae Court to shame.”

You both groaned lowly as he finally pushed the head of his cock into your wet entrance. He pushed and pushed, and to be honest, it was a struggle for both of you. He was thick and seemed to fill you up perfectly.

“So! Wet!” San panted. “I--” he whined in the back of his throat. “Are we in the middle of a fairy ring?!”

Alarmed you had accidentally caused a growth of mushrooms, you looked wildly around but the room simply had San's minimal but expensive decorations; no mushroom in sight.

“San, are you sure--?!”

San completed sinking into you. He held himself aloft, his arm muscles moving as he shifted. He closed his eyes, perhaps in an attempt to focus on not jackhammering inside of you.

“Please? Queen of my desires? Let me plunge in your depths. I need to--I will die, surely, holding myself inside of you like this!” San pleaded.

You traced a finger along San’s collarbones. “You are so dangerously handsome.”

San swallowed loudly. “Dangerously handsome enough to fuck you so hard that you'll see stars?”

This fae princeling, this arrogant, untouchable man, was a puddle between your legs and you were becoming quite charmed by it. 

San blinked hard, clenching his eyes and shook his hair out of his face. The lines of his nose and jaw balanced out the soft curves of his lips. He really was gorgeous. 

“San,” You hummed softly. 

San opened his eyes and they were glossy with lust. “Red. I'm all yours. I've always been all yours. You're dedicated to keeping my body safe and I'm dedicated to yours.”

You pulled San closer, wrapping your arms behind his neck, and bringing him chest to chest to you. “Fuck me so hard I'll see stars,” You whispered into his ear.

A shudder went through San's body and then he tensed up so that he could pull back. “Better hold onto my arms,” he suggested.

The first thrust punched the air in your lungs out in a lusty cry. Your shoulders moved up the bed a full inch with the strength that San had thrusted into you. You immediately wrapped your hands around San's bicep to hold yourself in place. 

The cries didn't end as San fucked you hard. His thrusts were punctuated by a noise from you being thoroughly fucked, just as you had requested. You could hear the obscene slapping of skin against skin and the squishing of San’s cock against your wet entrance. It was debauchery at its finest and you couldn't find an ounce of you regretting it at this moment. 

San was a drooling mess in the crook of your neck even though his hips worked relentlessly between your legs. He whimpered and whined, pussy drunk inside of you. “So good, feels so good being inside of you, so wet, so tight, so good,” he babbled.

“San,” You said in a strained tone. “Remember, you are fucking me until I see stars, not the other way around.”

“I can… I can… I can be good…” San panted through his lust-filled mind. 

“Can you?” You groaned after a particularly hard thrust. “Can you put my needs before your own, you greedy princeling?”

“Can, can, can,” San chanted, even though he sounded like he was getting closer to his climax. 

You couldn't help but to sow a little chaos, considering how much chaos San had thrown your way this evening. “Are you going to come inside of me, Sannie?” 

San cried out and stilled his hips against you. “Nooooooo,” he lamented. “Why did you do that?”

“To see if I had that kind of power,” You admitted. You petted the back of his head in comfort. “But you were not a good little princeling, Sannie. You came before me.”

“It was so good,” San whined. “You can’t blame me!”

“I guess you’ll have to start over again,” You said flippantly.

San raised himself up so that he could look at you. He had the right amount of suspicion in his eyes as he said, “Start over again, how?”

Your fingers brushed some of his hair from his face that had stuck to his hairline from the sweat that was pouring off him. “Why, Sannie, you’ll have to clean up the mess you made inside of me and fuck me again.”

San’s eyes widened and you watched as he visibly slipped back into his subby headspace. “You want me to lick my cum from your pussy and then fuck you again?”

“Mmm,” You hummed. “Can you do that for me? Be a good little princeling and fix the mess you made? Do you want to be a good boy for me, Sannie?”

“Yes, please,” San murmured.

He immediately slid down your body and pressed his plush lips to your core that was aching for a release. You could feel his cum leaking from you and that’s how San began, licking your cunt diligently. And when he couldn't find any more cum to lick, he slowly stuck his tongue inside of you, looking for leftovers. 

“Yes, San,” You moaned. “Such a good boy for me. Put your tiny little tongue inside of me and make me feel something.”

San groaned against your cunt, and the richness of his baritone voice washed over you. You would have let him make you come with his tongue plowing inside of you but you were firm in teaching San that you were the one in charge and he needed to follow your directions. 

You pulled San’s head up by gripping his hair and tugging upwards. “Time’s up. Did you clean me up well?”

San’s appearance, with your slickness and remnants of his own cum all over his bronze face, was one for the record. He smiled lazily, looking like a cat caught drinking the cream. “You taste so good. Like a mushroom pastry. I could eat you up all day.”

You brushed some of the fluids from his pink lips with the pad of your thumb. “Shall I tell the other courtiers why you’re so busy? Can’t be bothered with any of the Fae politics or affairs, because you’d simply rather be between a mushroom guard’s thighs?”

San’s face flushed with pleasure and embarrassment. “If it pleases you.”

“Lie down, Little Princeling,” You commanded softly.

San did so, his body now horizontal to the bed. You finished pulling off his pants and discarded the soft copper-worked dress you had donned that evening. This moment of total dominance, of a bared soul, deserved flesh against flesh, heart against heart.

“I will ride you, my fair lord,” You declared. You set a knee on either side of San’s narrow hips. “I will take you within my cunt, dripping of my own desire and yours spent, and I will take exactly what I want from you. And you will lie there and give me everything, won’t you?”

San’s irises were round like saucers. He seemed unable to completely focus but he did respond. “I would pull the stars from the sky and string them along a chain for you, Red. Is that what you want? To show that the Fae Prince you guard is owned by his mushroom lover? I will do it. I would prostrate myself before my uncle and declare myself unfit to be next in line because I am simply a puppet to your--”

You put a finger to San’s lips and he quieted. “Do not speak of such a thing while you are between my legs, San. All your wits have gone out with your cum.”

San smiled dopily. “You make me this way, Heart.”

“Do not call to me fondly either,” You scolded him gently. “This should not cross from lust to love.”

“Then I will simply have to work harder for your love,” San sighed dreamily. 

You laughed under your breath. There really was no stopping this man once he got something in his head. “Let us start with this,” You said as you angled his cockhead to your entrance. 

San began to babble once again while your body struggled to adjust to his girth. “Why must you squeeze me so tightly? It is as if you would eat me whole with your cunt!”

You laughed in amusement, voice tight with your own withheld struggles. “If you were a mortal and I, a simple mushroom, it would be so, would it not?”

San groaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head with pleasure as you took him full-hilt inside of you. “You make me come undone, Red.”

You moved your hips, watching San intake sharply at the sudden movement. “I quite like it this way.”

San part moaned and part laughed. “You’ll drive me mad with lust. Can I touch you?”

“You may,” You allowed with a small dip of your head. 

San’s hands smoothed up your thighs, over your hips, and then they encompassed your waist, thumbs skimming your rib bones. Finally they rested just below your breasts, looking to cup them both. “I wish to sink into you every morning and every evening, sometimes in between.”

You bounced slightly, enjoying the way San’s eyes were eating you up. His hands held your breasts in place as you slowly began to build some pleasure between the two of you. “Perhaps I’ll allow it, Sannie. But only if you’re good.”

San licked his lips slowly. “I can be real good to you, Red.”

“So far you’ve only been a spoiled princeling, taking what he wanted and giving nothing back,” You reminded him.

San pursed his lips in thought. “Only--!” He paused to gasp at the pleasure luring his mind away from reality. “--only you do this to me. I am a skilled lover. I have made others weep. Please, I can prove myself a second time. You are--there is something about you that drives all the edges of my brain to soft, unending, blurred lines.”

“But you know enough that it is me you are inside,” You joked.

San sat up suddenly, more serious than you had seen him all night. His eyes traveled over the planes of your face. “Nothing could make me forget you.”

And so you rode San like this, chest to chest, heart to heart, eye to eye. You drank in every gasp and whine that left his pretty lips. San ran his fingers up and down your bare back. And finally when your orgasm overwhelmed you, breaking over you like a wave over a cliff, he kissed you with his mouth slanted over yours, determined to feed from your noises. 

You were both spent but you realized that regardless of the energy, neither of you were looking to be separated from each other, even when San’s cock softened and your wetness leaked out. He continued to keep you in his arms and you found yourself tracing the sharp planes of his face. There was something new between you; but you didn’t have a name for it yet. It was pleasant and that would suffice for now.

[shywhumpauthor]

Nothing better than a Whumper who wears thick, heavy rings backhanding a Whumpee across the face, the rubies that decorate their fingers splitting a gash across Whumpee’s cheek

And the little gasp that follows the impact

[blank-potato]

Waltz For Sweatpants

Pairing: Maxon Schreave x Aspen Leger

Summary:

“But you don’t know how to, do you?” Maxon asks again, his teasing softening just slightly, as though trying to understand the situation rather than mock it. “It's okay if you don't.” “Dance lessons aren't exactly high priorities for Sixes.” Aspen’s voice is sharp, his words laced with that familiar edge of bitterness. Maxon nods slowly, sensing the prickly tone in Aspen's response, then again, most of what the guard said to him was prickly.  Aspen wouldn't even be caught dead learning to waltz, but the production crew insisted that some guards learn to dance so they can dance with the remaining selected girls while Maxon dances with each one for one of their stupid challenges.  Yet another way, Maxon Schreave was screwing him over. Or Maxon teaches Aspen how to dance, and feelings are caught.

A/N: This is random af, but I had the urge to write this even though there's barely any fics on ao3, so I don't even know if anyone's going to read this. Also I'm just missing The Selection because I loved it as a kid and mourning the fact that there's never going to be a TV series or if there is I'll be 40 or some shit when it comes out. Title from Waltz For Sweatpants by Cody Fry.

♕🗡♕🗡

The faint notes of music make Maxon rise from his sleep. He groggily sits up, running his fingers through his blonde hair, looking more like a regular man just trying to shake off sleep than his usual manicured, royal self. His gaze is still hazy as he blinks his eyes open, squinting against the soft light of the early morning.

Maxon drags himself out of bed, stretching and yawning as he makes his way through his suite, moving toward the conjoined doors where the music is drifting in from the other side. It’s a familiar sound, a song that Maxon would’ve had to dance to during his etiquette lessons as a child. The soft, flowing rhythm of the waltz had been drilled into him from an early age, part of the endless list of things a prince must master. 

Maxon peeks his head through the conjoined doors to quite the sight.

Aspen was stumbling around the room, trying to remember the moves, his feet awkwardly shuffling as he attempted to follow the rhythm. Aspen had become Maxon's guard after the recent rebel attacks, and had been moved into the suite next to his, ensuring the prince's safety 24/7. The transition had been difficult. The constant presence of the other man was never easy to ignore, and the glaring fact that they didn’t like each other or rather, that Aspen hated his guts, hung between them like a thick fog. 

“Do you not know how to dance?” Maxon asks, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

Aspen whips around to see Maxon, aka the bane of his existence, the permanent thorn in his side. In a hurry, he turns off the music, frustration flashing in his eyes.

“Ever heard of knocking? What are you doing up anyway?” Aspen snaps, trying to regain some sense of control over the situation.

“The music woke me up,” Maxon responds coolly, leaning against the doorframe with an amused glint in his eyes. “And you are doing what exactly?”

A silence falls in the room, and Aspen looks away, embarrassed. He was already not fond of Maxon, considering their complicated history and the fact that they both had feelings for America. Aspen’s jaw tightens slightly, the tension in the room palpable. He hadn’t expected to be caught in such a vulnerable moment, especially by someone who always seemed to have everything figured out.

“Dancing, or at least trying to,” Aspen mutters, his frustration still simmering beneath the surface.

“But you don’t know how to, do you?” Maxon asks again, his teasing softening just slightly, as though trying to understand the situation rather than mock it. “It's okay if you don't.”

“Dance lessons aren't exactly high priorities for Sixes.” Aspen’s voice is sharp, his words laced with that familiar edge of bitterness.

Maxon nods slowly, sensing the prickly tone in Aspen's response, then again, most of what the guard said to him was prickly. 

Aspen wouldn't even be caught dead learning to waltz, but the production crew insisted that some guards learn to dance so they can dance with the remaining selected girls while Maxon dances with each one for one of their stupid challenges. 

Yet another way, Maxon Schreave was screwing him over.

Maxon moves from the doorway, entering Aspen’s space fully. The prince never found himself in Aspen’s suite; it was sparse, clean, and meticulously organised, just like Aspen.

“Do you… want help?” Maxon asks, his tone casual but with a trace of genuine concern.

“I’m capable of learning a few steps,” Aspen replies quickly, his pride flaring even though he knew it was true.

“I’m sure you are, but a little help can go a long way.” Maxon gestures to his feet, a playful yet knowing look in his eyes. "I’ve got some experience."

It’s clear the guard wants to say yes, his frustration evident in the tension of his shoulders, but his pride won’t let him. The thought of accepting help from Maxon, of allowing him into this vulnerable moment, feels like too much.

“I can’t sleep knowing you’re falling around like a fawn to the sound of Illéan classical music,” Maxon teases, the familiar traditional waltz music softly drifting from the speakers. “Let me at least make sure you don’t break something or yourself.”

Aspen hesitates, the offer dangling between them like a challenge. He knows Maxon isn’t entirely teasing, but still… the last thing he wants is to owe the prince anything.

Gritting his teeth, Aspen’s eyes are cast downward, the weight of Maxon’s words settling deep in his chest. If Maxon wasn’t the Prince, Aspen might have gotten a punch to the face for that comment, but for now, he’ll have to settle for a scathing look that could cut through glass.

His “treasonous” thoughts are interrupted when a hand suddenly comes into view, offering him something he wasn’t sure he wanted: a lifeline.

“Trust me, it’ll be a lot easier to learn if I teach you. I’m somewhat of an expert.” Maxon’s voice is calm, but there’s a quiet confidence in it that Aspen can’t ignore.

Aspen hesitates, glaring at the hand for a moment, the inner conflict clear on his face. He could refuse, he could walk away, but for some reason, his pride gives way just enough. Slowly, he takes the hand, his grip firm but reluctant.

“Fine,” he mutters under his breath, “but don’t expect me to thank you for this.”

Maxon simply smiles, his eyes lighting up with the quiet triumph of knowing he’d gotten Aspen to accept his help.

“Put your hands on my waist like this,” Maxon says, guiding his strong hands to him.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

They sway with each other, the room quiet except for the faint sound of the music playing. Aspen catches a whiff of Maxon’s shampoo — it’s subtle but clean, the kind of scent that clings to fine fabrics and expensive skin care, the sort of luxury a Six like him could only dream of. Materials and comforts that had always been out of reach.

Maxon, on the other hand, is focusing on Aspen’s tall, solid form. They were close in height, but Aspen had him beat by just a hair. The way he moves is controlled, sharp in places, but not without effort; it’s obvious he had been practicing for a while. His hair was wild and tousled from running his hands through it in frustration.

The two moved quite smoothly, and it was going great until Aspen stepped onto Maxon's foot…hard. 

“Sorry, I'm not exactly known for being graceful.”

“It’s fine,” Maxon groans out, forcing a small, strained smile as he lifts his foot slightly, trying to shake off the sting. “I’ve had worse,” he adds with a light chuckle, though the wince betrays him.

Aspen lowers his gaze, embarrassed. “You sure about that? I think I might’ve just shattered your royal foot.”

Maxon huffs a quiet laugh, nudging Aspen’s shoulder playfully. “You’ll have to try harder than that to break me, officer.”

There’s a pause, the air still lingering between teasing and something softer, and Maxon quietly extends his hand again. “Come on. Let’s try it once more.”

And Aspen accepts his hand.

♕🗡♕🗡

They continue dancing together the next night, and the next, and the next. Aspen is slowly getting better, but the lessons were starting to feel like more than just lessons. The giant ice wall between the two of them had started to thaw, piece by piece, until all that tension was replaced by something unfamiliar, easy, unspoken understanding. 

At first, the silences between them had been sharp and cold, full of everything unsaid. Now they were quiet, but comfortable. The music would fade out, but neither of them would move away, lingering there like the moment itself could stretch forever.

By the fourth night, Aspen didn’t even need to glance down at his feet. His body moved on instinct, his focus entirely on Maxon.

They bump foreheads, a soft, unexpected thud, and Maxon immediately starts to pull back, ready to apologise. But instead of the sharp, snappy retort he expected, Aspen lets out a quiet laugh.

It’s warm, real, the kind of laugh that doesn’t sound weighed down by rank or rivalry.

Maxon pauses, caught off guard, watching him with wide eyes. It was rare, seeing Aspen so unguarded, even rarer for it to be directed at him.

“What?” Aspen says, still grinning, breathless from the moment. “You looked like I was about to hit you.”

“I just… I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh,” Maxon comments almost reverently. 

“Is my laughing a problem?” Aspen snaps, and Maxon’s heart pounds in his chest that much faster. He saw his facial expression sour a little, as if retreating back to his defensive ways, and he couldn’t let that happen. “No, no. I like—” he pauses, catching himself before he says something he regrets, “It’s good.”

Aspen arches a brow, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t think you were the type to care about something like that.”

Maxon swallows, his throat suddenly dry. His heart was pounding so loud he was sure Aspen could hear it. “I’m not,” he lies, the words fumbling out too quickly. “I just meant... it suits you.”

Maxon shifts awkwardly, eyes flicking away. His usual smooth composure had gone entirely out the window, and he just hoped Aspen hadn’t noticed the flush creeping up his neck.

But Aspen did notice. And for once, he didn’t call him out on it.

“Thanks,” Aspen says quietly, voice low but sincere. “Guess I’ll try to do it more often.”

Maxon knows he’s joking, but he does hope he laughs more often; it’s sweet. 

From that night on, it was like something had changed. At least for Maxon, he found himself looking for Aspen in crowded rooms, yearning to get him alone so they could dance together, needing to be close to him. 

♕🗡♕🗡

The night drifted on, the palace buzzing with light and music as the long-awaited ball finally unfolded. Aspen had been paired with Natalie Luca; she was nice, easy to talk to, and light on her feet, but it wasn’t the same.

As they moved across the floor, Aspen found his gaze slipping downward, focusing on her shoes or the hem of her dress rather than her face. Her hands were small and delicate, resting neatly in his, so different to Maxon’s. His hands were still delicate, but they were bigger and broader. He almost misses the way Maxon’s hands would tighten around his, just slightly, whenever he notices Aspen fidgeting or losing rhythm to steady him. 

It felt different. All of it.

He looks up briefly to see America and Maxon now dancing together, and they looked good together; they looked natural. He saw what the whole nation did, that connection that none of the other girls seemed to have. 

He feels his chest tighten, a confusing ache blooming deep in his ribs. Watching America slip further and further away, knowing she was choosing someone else, was a burning pain that he had become accustomed to, but the part that unsettled him most wasn’t the usual heartbreak.

It was the quiet, lingering thought that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t only miss her hand in his. Because when his eyes shift from her to Maxon, guiding her around the dance floor, he feels that same tug.

That same longing.

And it terrifies him.

The dance finishes, the music fading into polite applause. Maxon doesn’t look at him once. Not even a glance.

Aspen holds his posture, the perfect image of a disciplined guard, but inside there’s a hollow weight that settles in his chest.

At the end of the night, when the palace finally quiets and the halls fall still, Maxon doesn’t come to his room. Their lessons, their late-night practices, the quiet moments where the space between them had felt so small, it was over.

But Aspen can’t stop thinking about it. About him. His soft blonde curls, the little crowns printed on his pyjamas, the way his eyes would crinkle when he’d laugh too hard.

Meanwhile, Maxon lies awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying the same moments in his mind. He gets up, walks to the conjoined door, and hesitates. His hand hovers above the wood, heart unsteady.

Just to talk, he tells himself. That’s all.

But he never knocks.

And on the other side of the door, Aspen stays awake, waiting for a sound that never comes.

Masterlist

[eraenaa]

Blessed Curse

Aemond Targaryen x Strong Reader Tag List

Synopsis: When a marriage between you and Aemond was arranged and forced by your grandsire, conflicting emotions arise, but which one will loom greater? Loathing or Love?

Warnings: Enemies to Lovers Trope, ¿Softer Aemond?, Arranged Marriage, Jealousy, Mature, 18+, P in V Sex, Fingering, Oral Sex (F receiving), Targcest, Not Proofread 

Word Count: 6,803

A/N: Final tribute (maybe) to Season 1 Aemond, you have fed us with your crumbs for the past two years. Based on a few anonymous requests where they wanted a prequel of 'Loathe to Love.'

Aemond’s frown severed as he looked through the window and watched as you and your kin exited the wheelhouse. He felt his sneer severe as he spotted a look of dissatisfaction adorned your plain face as you had realized the lack of welcome provided for your kin’s return. “Spying, brother?” Aemond jumped in his spot, his sister taking him by surprise as she appeared by his side. “I am not,” he said defensively, and Helaena only hummed, gazing below as the day of your awaited arrival had arrived. “Then why have you been waiting by this window since the morning?” Helaena asked, and Aemond clenched his jaw and stayed silent, not giving a response to his sister. 

“Come, join us, Mother, and I shall greet them,” Helaena invited, and Aemond shook his head, scoffing at his sister’s invitation. “I’d rather not subject myself to their… treasonous presence,” He said, and Helaena sighed, walking away in silence. 

Jacaerys raised his gaze and caught the sight of a silver prince looking down upon them. He warily traveled his oak gaze to you, who stood by the side of your stepfather. “Should we not tell her already? How long must we keep her in the dark about our true purpose here?” Your brother whispered to your mother. “Your grandsire shall be the one to tell her. The king must be the one to impart to her his wishes and orders,” Your mother sighed, guilt heavy in her heart as the whole of your family had kept the true reason for your return to Kingslanding from you. 

“Helaena!” You called out in excitement as you entered the walls of the keep, your aunt, along with her mother, welcoming you. Helaena smiled widely at you as you took her into an embrace; though you had a distaste for the capitol, Helaena was the only one you were actually excited to see once more. “How are you?” You asked, paying no mind to the tense conversation between your parents and the queen. “Well. I am glad of your return,” She smiled, and you only smiled as well as you could not lie and agree with her statement. “I’ve been told you now have three children,” You tried to converse, and Helaena nodded. “I do; little Maelor arrived just two moons ago,” She confirmed, “Would you like to meet them?” Helaena asked, and you eagerly nodded, slipping away from your kin who were to venture to your grandsire’s chambers. 

Aemond stalked the halls and watched behind the pillar as you walked with his sister, arms linked. He rolled his eye as you strutted through the halls as if your mere presence were not damnable. “Are you spying, brother?” Aegon appeared by his side, Aemond being caught off guard for the second time that hour. “I am not,” Aemond spat and walked off, but Aegon still followed him. “I have to admit, even I did not expect our niece to grow so… enchanting,” Aegon hummed, looking steadily at his brother to see what reaction his words would garner him. Aemond shook his head, not wanting to concede or show agreement with his brother. 

“If you’re still having qualms about this marriage, perhaps it could be I to marry her instead.” Aegon hummed, further testing his brother. “The conqueror had two wives, did he not?” Aegon added and noted the way his brother clenched his jaw and fisted his fists. “You are no conqueror,” Aemond gritted and made hastened steps towards the tiltyard to escape his brother.  “I do not understand your animosity, brother,” Aegon still followed.

“Were you not so… overly fond of her years before?” He asked and made fast steps to match his brother’s furious gate. “If I had remembered correctly… you had even asked Mother if you could be betrothed to her when you were nine,” Aegon reminded, and Aemond halted in his steps as he was made to recall the instance. “Leave before I succumb to my thoughts and maim you,” Aemond gritted, his hand already clenched around the hilt of his sword. Aegon let out a laugh at his brother’s threat but retreated because there was a murderous intent in Aemond’s eye. 

Aemond had a few moments of solace in the tiltyard before you once again began to haunt him. Aemond halted his sparring with Ser Criston as he heard a laugh so melodious he was certain it was brought by delusion. He turned to the side and frowned as he learned that the laugh he had heard came from your lips, the melodiousness he relished upon just moments ago; he now convinced himself it was aggravating. The prince huffed as he saw his older brother standing by your side, Aegon being the reason for your mirth, and Aemond could not help but wonder if his brother’s actions were genuine or just another ploy to aggravate him. 

“I see your intended has arrived,” Ser Criston stated as his eyes went towards where the prince’s gaze was placed. “Aye, she has,” Aemond gritted and shook his head, twisting the sword in his hands and urging himself to continue training. “Have you spoken to her?” Ser Criston could not help but ask, curious as to what the marriage order by the king would entail. 

The knight held no fondness for any offspring of the spoiled cunt they call heir, but he himself could not be so cruel to show any animosity towards you. You were saved from the insults that he had no trouble throwing at your brothers. Ever since childhood, you were kind and gentle and good-humored. You were the only one who genuinely showed kindness to Aemond even if he was being picked on by his brother and yours. You were the only one who never cowered away from Helaena and her odd demeanor. You were the only child of Rhaenyra that the queen and her sworn protector could tolerate. It also bodes well for you that you were not present during the ambush in Driftmark. Instead, you were sound asleep next to your aunt as her brother’s eye was cruelly taken. 

“No,” Aemond answered, his tone held disgust that the knight was a tad confused by, but he made no mention of it. Ser Criston readied his position to return to sparring with the prince, but Aemond was still wholly distracted by your presence. His frown severed as the smile on your lips did not lessen whilst you kept chatting with Aegon. It would seem his brother would make good with his tease of taking you to wife as well, and though Aemond had no wish to marry you, there was a pestering feeling inside him that savored greatly of jealousy, but he did not wish to admit. 

The one-eyed prince disregarded his training and walked in your direction. You were in the midst of a laughing fit, but it quickly died as he arrived, the wide smile on your lips lessening. “Niece,” Aemond greeted, the word said through his teeth. “Uncle,” you curtsied quickly, and Aegon smirked as the scene unfolded before him. “Well, isn’t this nice,” he stated, and you turned your gaze to your elder uncle. “A reunion that is well overdue, do you not think so, brother?” He asked and clapped the back Aemond, who stared daggers at him. You licked your lips as you felt tension now surrounding the air. Aemond’s eye shifted back to you, your gaze lowered, your fingers playing with each other, and your bottom lip in between your teeth. He swallowed thickly as he did not expect a sudden surge of an odd sensation to overcome him. 

You parted your lips, ready to speak, but a call through the tiltyard caught your attention. “Tala,” Your stepfather called; the three of you turned towards the steps and saw the Rogue prince approaching. “Good day, uncles,” You said quietly and curtsied before them before running towards your father. Daemon eyed curiously his two nephews you were speaking with. Daemon offered his arm for you to take as he escorted you up the steps, and judging by the smile that was still on your lips and there was no horror in your eyes, he deduced that none of them had spoken about the true reason for your return. 

Daemon tried earnestly to contest the marriage. To make his brother see reason and not cruelly tie you with his deformed son. He even went as far as returning to Kingslanding the moment he and his wife received the message of his brother’s order. But the king had made up his mind. You were to marry Aemond. 

Two days had passed since your return to the Red Keep, and you were still clueless as to why you and your family had returned. “When do you think we’ll leave?” You asked Lucerys as he went along with you in the gardens, your younger brother carrying the flowers you picked and were planning to give your grandsire you were still yet to visit. “I do not know, sister,” Lucerys mindlessly said, his focus transfixed on your uncle, who stood by the side, glaring at him with his lone eye. You, however, were oblivious to the presence of a silver prince. 

Aemond clenched his jaw as he watched you leisurely pick at the flowers. He had been observing you through the days of your return, and he could not fathom why you were not bothered by the whole ordeal as to why he saw no aggravation or anger in you as you both were tasked to marry each other. You exuded an entirely different outlook than Aemond when it came to this doomed union which made him wonder at the possibility that perhaps you wanted it. That you were willing to marry him. Aemond found the possibility preposterous, but it was the only answer to your lax, unbothered disposition. The more Aemond thought about the possibility of your agreement to the marriage, the more it left him unnerved. But it would answer his questions as to why you did not show any outward animosity towards him. Completely civil at any of your encounters— even going as far as flashing Aemond a ghost of a smile when you passed him by the hall. Were you truly in want of this marriage? Aemond was torn on how to feel or perceive this. 

“Must we not already tell her? We’ve been here for two days already, and she is still completely clueless about the reason for our return,” Jacaerys asked his mother, who sighed deeply. “Aye, I would take she would not appreciate this secrecy— especially the severity of the situation,” Daemon added, studying his wife who stepped towards a window that overlooked the gardens where you spent the afternoon in. 

“The king must be the one to tell her. He… he must be the one to tell her his wishes.” Rhaenyra said once more, unable to be the bearer of bad news. She could already foresee the anger, hurt, and fear in your eyes, and it made her stomach pit and twist painfully. She had made a promise to herself that her daughter would be saved from the political marriages most of them were subjected to— to save her from the heartache and the displeasure of having a husband bound to you not by love but by political gain. But even she could not protect you from such cruel fates. Having no choice but to watch as you would retell the plights of women before you. 

“The king has been incoherent for days. The wedding ceremonies they prepared are set in a fortnight— we must tell her Rhaenyra. She must know of the matter now so she could prepare herself,” Daemon spoke, “Prepare herself to escape,” Jacaerys muttered under his breath, already imagining your reaction that would surely be filled with shock and betrayal. 

Rhaenyra sighed heavily and shook her head, her hand unconsciously going to her forehead to soothe the throbbing pain as she thought about the matter. “If my father still has not regained his thoughts by the morrow, then we shall tell her at tomorrow evening’s supper,” Rhaenyra decided, putting a buffer on the matter, praying to the gods that her father shall regain consciousness and be the one to tell you of his orders. 

You returned inside the castle walls as the afternoon sun was proving to be too scorching for you. Your younger brother went to the tiltyard, and you were left alone as you wandered around the castle you once called home. You were admiring a portrait hung on the wall, your eyes completely fixed on the bold colors and the detailed strokes of the work that your surroundings started to fade, and you did not realize someone had joined your company. “Quite luminous, is it not, your highness?” You slightly jumped, startled by the voice that made itself known. You turned to your right and saw a son of House Tyrell. “It is my lord,” You agreed with a small smile finding itself on your lips. 

Aemond watched the scene steely-eyed behind a pillar as you acquainted yourself with the lord in the empty hallways, unescorted. There was a smile playing on your lips as you two conversed. He watched as the lord started to inch his body closer to you, daring to brush his hand with yours that held flowers in it. Aemond’s already impaired vision burned as he saw a blush rising to your cheeks. The scandal of it! Here you are, a betrothed woman still acquiring and entertaining the attention of eligible young men. 

When Aemond saw the lord take a flower from your hold and dare place it by your ear, Aemond removed himself from his spot of observation and stomped towards the both of you. “Uncle,” You greeted in surprise as Aemond suddenly appeared in the hall. “Good morrow, my prince,” Lord Tyrell greeted, and Aemond could not make the effort to not let his contempt not show. “My Lord,” was all he replied with, feeling your confused gaze by his left as he stood by your side. “The Princess and I were just discussing this portrait. I had remarked on its luminosity and sh—“ Aemond rolled his eye and cut the lord off. 

“If you shall excuse us, Lord Tyrell, I must speak with my betrothed. Alone.” He said, voice utterly cold and almost threatening. Your lips agape at his words, your mind unable to comprehend what he had uttered. “What?” You suddenly asked as Lord Tyrell bowed towards you before hastily walking away. Aemond turned to you, expression angered. “Are you truly this careless? Walking the halls alone, engaging with a lord without an escort. Do you not thin—“ You hindered him from completing his scolding. “What are you saying?” You asked in confusion. “Betrothed?” You added, and Aemond’s brows furrowed. 

“Do not act simple with me; you know perfectly well of o—“ You cut Aemond off once more. “What are you talking about? Betrothed? What?” You continued to voice out your bewilderment. Aemond stared at you, calculating if the confusion on your face was an act. But as he stared at your eyes, he knew your confused state was genuine. “You do not know, do you?” He asked quietly. “Know what?” Aemond licked his lips and looked around the empty hall. Just hours ago, he believed you were in full knowledge of the upcoming union between the two of you— that you were completely fine with a marriage with him, for he saw no resistance or rebellion. But what is there to resist or rebel about when you are left utterly clueless? 

“We are to be married,” Aemond stated, and you gazed up at him as if he had grown three heads. “Us… married?” You asked slowly, and Aemond gave a curt nod, waiting for the dread in your eyes, but he was left shocked as you began to laugh. The hall rang and echoed your laughs, Aemond watching you as you clutched your stomach and continued to laugh at the absurdity of it. He scowled as you gasped for air, your laugh still ringing in his ears and riddling his skin with gooseflesh. “You have an odd sense of humor, Aemond. But I am glad that after all these years, you finally learned how to jest,” you said in amusement, gazing at his lilac eye as you waited for him to break his peculiar act. However, when only seriousness was present in his Valyrian orbs, the smile on your lips faltered. 

“Are you serious?” You asked, your tone dripping heavy in disbelief. “It is the order of the king,” he replied, and you shook your head. Aemond clenched his jaw as you still did not believe his words. “Why do you think you’re here? After all these years of informal exile, why do you think your family was summoned? You and I are to be married.” He explained, frowning at how slow you are to comprehend the situation. Now, the dread that Aemond was waiting for was presented greatly on your plain but pretty face. “I… I do not believe you; you are lying.” You say, and Aemond stepped closer. “Why must I lie about this unsavory matter? What I speak of is the truth. If you do not take my word for it, go ahead and ask your parents, and they will tell you the same thing: you and I are to be bound to one another.” Aemond said lowly, his face drawing closer to yours. 

You shook your head and stepped back, your gaze still locked with Aemond, who stared at you undeterred, seriousness the only thing on his face. “You will be my wife.” He stated and watched as fear grew heavier in your eyes, and you ran across the hall in search of your parents. As Aemond stared at your departing figure, he began to wonder if it was satisfying to finally see the fear and rage in your eyes that he had been expecting ever since your arrival or if there was another pestering emotion that he wished not to entertain. 

“Mother!” You called through the halls, eyes already threatening to spill with tears. When you reached her chambers, she and your father turned to you, worry shining on their faces. “My sweet girl, what is it?” She asked and took hold of your hands. “Tell me it is not true— tell me he lies,” You almost begged. “What?” Your mother asked quietly, not accepting the fact that you now knew of the betrothal. “Please, you’re not marrying me to Aemond, are you? That’s not true, yes? He was just teasing me,” You said desperately, willing your mother to confirm your theory. But as she said no word and only went pale, your knees felt weak, and a pitting of your stomach presented itself greatly. 

“It… it is the order of your grandsire,” She said delicately, moving you to sit down as your breath had been rendered short through your cries. Daemon watched by the side, his hold on his sword tight as he could not bear to see you in such a state of distress. “No… please, you cannot make me!” You wailed as your mother tried to hush you, soothing you, running her hands through your hair, and patting your back just as she did when you were a child. “Please… I… let me speak with grandsire— he cannot marry me to him,” You pleaded, and your mother’s saddened eyes gazed at you, her warm touch moving to wipe the tears on your cheeks. “I’m sorry, my sweet… we have begged your grandsire, implored him that this union could not be. But he had made up his mind, and none of us could alter it, not even Alicent.” Your mother whispered. 

You sniffled in your seat, your thoughts running with dread and confusion. “Why did you only tell me now? How could you hide this from me?” You asked in betrayal. Daemon sighed and went to where you sat, kneeling before you. “We wanted to tell you, tala. To prepare you, but we foolishly thought that we could still alter the decision of the king. We had not told you, for we did not wish to distress you with a matter that we thought we could change.” He said softly, watching as tears fell from your eyes. You bit your cheeks and shook your head, “When… when must we marry?” You asked in dread. “In a fortnight,” Your mother replied and felt her heart clench as you stifled a sob. “I’m truly sorry, my sweet girl,” She said softly as you cried quietly in her arms. 

“It would appear they hid it from her,” Aemond remarked to his mother as he sat in her chambers. “They thought they could still alter the orders of the king,” She remarked as quietly as she observed her son, who stared at the fire. “I still have not asked you about your thoughts on this marriage,” The queen remarked, watching as her son clenched his jaw. “You need not ask; you already know of it,” Aemond answered. The queen breathed in heavily. 

“This may not be what you want now… but this was all you had wanted when you were a boy,” Aemond shook his head, a scoff leaving his lips. “Will all of you stop reminding me of it? Aye, I did want her when I was a child, but I am a man grown. I do not wish for a marriage forced upon me— especially when my bride is to be so… plain,” Aemond frowned at himself as he sensed hesitancy as he uttered the words that used to roll off effortlessly. It was the truth; you were plain— your features nonconforming to the house they tried to sell as yours. But you had never been plain the sense of attractiveness, your beauty celebrated throughout the realm, beguiling the lords of Westeros and years before, Aemond as well. Alicent stayed silent, for she could not offer comfort to her son, who was bound to a marriage that was devised for the crown.

When the crown announced your impending matrimony with your one-eyed uncle, mixed reactions were shared. Nevertheless, the kingdom was made to celebrate the event. You tried to hide your frown as your grandfather made you and Aemond parade around the streets of Kingslanding, a picture of unity to be sold to the small folk so they could attest to the new age of dragons. 

“Is this truly necessary?” You asked your father as you were sitting in a carriage. Aemond was still to board it, but he and his grandfather were conversing. “It is what your grandfather wished,” You hear your stepfather say, his violet eyes shifting to your betrothed. “But why? Is he even of sound of mind? I thought others were now tasked to do his bidding; why did they let this happen?” You asked in a plea, ready to jump off the carriage as you felt it jostle and your soon-to-be husband sitting next to you. “Best stop your bellyaching. You are not the only one who is shortchanged with this marriage.” You gritted your jaw at his words, turning to your father wide-eyed, trying to discern if he had heard it as well. 

Daemon clenched his fist around the hilt of his sword at his nephew, who had the gull to offend you, his precious daughter. “Your brothers and I will follow closely behind. It is only for a few hours, tala,” he gritted, and you unconsciously pouted as your father walked away, leaving you alone in the presence of Aemond. 

You traced the patterns of your gown as you rode out of the castle gates. When you reached the streets, you straightened your back and plastered a slight smile to appear as if you were somewhat happy with the devised marriage. Aemond scoffed and rolled his eye as you greeted the small folk, smiling at them and giving them a small wave of your pampered hand. He frowned at how much you loved their attention, giving them a pitiful show. “You might want to lessen the scowl… the purpose of all this is to present a united figure,” You whispered as you passed a crowd. 

“I will not be part of this farce,” Aemond spat and glared at a group of men whose hungry gaze were enclosed on you. “You are a prince of this realm. You have no choice but to be the crown’s puppet,” You said, with a tight smile as you waved toward a group of women. You feel Aemond’s glaring stare at the side of your face, but you willed yourself to ignore it. However, when the other small folk started to notice the glare of your betrothed, you turned to Aemond with a smile still on your lips, looking at him with your fictitious love-struck gaze, and you wanted to laugh as your act took him aback. 

Aemond stared into your eyes, perplexed at the look you gave him. Soft, adoring, and… he could not name the other element in your enchanting eyes. He had to look away as he felt himself stagger, and his breath was caught in his throat. When the crowd lessened, Aemond returned his gaze to you, the smile on your lips at the look in your eyes gone within a snap. You turned to him angrily, “Play the part for the subjects, Aemond. I do not expect much from this marriage, and I certainly do not expect us to get along behind closed doors, but when in the eyes of the public… best not to dishonor our house with another display of a fraudulent marriage. As all have kept reminding us, this is our duty.” You say quietly, tone bitter and overly severe. Aemond pursed his lips and clenched his fists around the air as the tumultuous crowds started to return once more, and the counterfeit smile on your lips returned. 

The day all had dreaded finally came. You stared blankly in the mirror as you were dressed like a doll. You were resisting the urge to run through the halls and escape a life of hate with a man who had only loathing in his heart for you. 

You stood before the door of the great hall, your arms linked with your mother as she walked you down the aisle. “I don’t want to,” You suddenly said, cold and clammed hands holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You tried to walk away, but your arm was linked with your mother’s, and she prevented you from doing so. “I am so sorry, my sweet, but not even you are above duty… none of us are,” She said solemnly, and you breathed out a previous breath as trumpets sounded out and the doors of the halls started to open. You bit your lip as you planted yourself on the ground, resisting the pull of your mother for you to walk. Your knees felt weak as you took small steps towards your groom, your mother practically dragging you down, her body a step ahead of your reluctant frame. 

When you reached the end of the hall, and your hand was placed upon your betrothed, you resisted looking Aemond in the eye. Aemond stared you down, the image of you wholly too much and all-consuming. This was all he had wanted. This was the dream he dreamt every night in childhood. You, in a white gown and a veil covering your comely face, and him standing before you as your groom. 

He could not explain how— how he had kept up his act for this long. To fake his animosity and loathing just in hopes that one day it would turn true because hoping and waiting for you was only a dream he had. Pretending to hold distaste for you because it was easier than letting himself hope that one day you will be his. But now, all those years of yearning have finally come to an end because before the sun could set, you will forever be bound to him.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Aemond recited and hesitantly looked toward you. Your hands were cold upon his, and Aemond took a deep breath before leaning in to seal your marriage with a kiss, your first kiss. The deafening roars and cheers of your guests were unheard as Aemond could only focus on the way it felt to kiss your lips. His mind only concentrates on the small taste he had of you— his entire being immediately starved for so much more than the quick and chaste entanglement of your lips. 

You and Aemond were silent for the whole feast, a small smile plastered on your lips as to appear agreeable to the hundreds of eyes upon the both of you. You were too entranced to appear joyous that you were oblivious to the strong, calloused hand that had never left yours. Long, slender fingers drawing circles upon your flesh as if to soothe you. 

You turned to Aemond, his eye on the sea of dancers on the floor. In disbelief that he was still holding your hand. You were in shock that he was willing to keep up the pretense so immensely— a pretense of unity that none seemed to notice, for your hands were tucked under the table. 

When Aemond felt your stare, he turned to you, and you searched for the familiar cruelty and hatred in his eye; you found none. “Do you wish to dance?” He asked, and your lips parted in shock, taking a moment to comprehend his words. You could only nod, your husband leading you to stand. You were silent as he placed his hand on your waist and pulled you closer to his body. The other dancers disappeared to make room for you and your groom, a slow, mellow melody enveloping the great hall as the eyes of your guests were turned to you and Aemond. 

You stared blankly at his chest, eyeing the metal buttons of his vest, and tried to ignore the erratic beating of your heart. Aemond took in a deep breath, your scent intoxicating his senses more than the wine he had indulged himself for the night in preparation for the later activities. When it was the end of your third dance, you finally spoke, “I’m quite tired,” You said lowly, and Aemond gave a curt nod, taking your hand into his once more and guiding you to your seats. 

Five more songs passed with you and Aemond in complete silence when your sisters appeared by your side. “Sister… we’re to help you to prepare for the… night,” Rhaena said lowly and cautiously. You feel your stomach drop and your nod. You stole your hand from Aemond and excused yourself before disappearing with your sisters, Aemond’s eye following your frame until you fully disappeared away from his view. 

Aemond gritted his jaw as he felt his brother clap his shoulder, “Are you ready for the bedding ceremony, brother? I hope you still remember what I have taught.” Aegon teased and took your vacated seat. Aemond stayed silent and downed another chalice of wine, ignoring his brother. “But it is fine if you are not ready… perhaps I could substitute in y—“ Aemond turned to his brother with a severe glare. “One more word concerning my wife, and I will cut your tongue,” Aemond gritted, and Aegon’s amusement only grew. “There he is— there is the boy who wanted no one else but our niece.” Aegon grinned. 

“You are a great actor— you almost had me fooled, but no amount of hate you display could make me forget about the little boy who would follow around our strong niece like a lost pup,” Aegon’s grin grew wider, and he quickly stood to walk away before his brother turned violent. 

Aemond downed another cup before he had no choice but to join you in your chambers. He stood by the door and took deep breaths; the shy little boy in him returned, and he had no idea how to cope. Aemond bit his lip and mustered all his courage to step inside your marital chambers. He knew neither of you could perform what was expected that night— as much as he wanted to perform his duty, he knew in himself he could not.

Aemond walked in quietly, his eye on the floor as he entered. Aemond heard shuffling, and he lifted his eye. Lilac orbs placed on a screen divider lit by the flickering light of a candle, your silhouette traced upon the thin paper of the divider as you fixed your shift. Aemond felt his knees weaken, taking a seat on a chair, his eye still fixed on your shadow. By just the outline of you, of your peaked apples straining through your shift and your graceful body turning behind the divider, he already felt pleasure wash through the whole of his body. His cock painfully straining in his trousers, he would think by the amount of wine he had downed, he would be left slack that night. 

You took in deep, calming breaths as you stepped out of the divider and decided to wait for your husband, but to your surprise, he was already seated in your chambers. You looked at him wide-eyed, having the urge to cover your body, but you reminded yourself that this intimacy was part of your marriage— at least tonight. 

Your gazes did not meet as you stood by a distance from where Aemond sat. The crackling fire between the two of you is the only sound surrounding the room. You gulped before you stepped close to your husband, footsteps overly heavy with every step taken in his direction. “Kneel,” You hear aemond grit, and you frown at his words, ready to fight his order, but you remind yourself that just for tonight, you will do your duties as a wife. 

Aemond was left breathlessly as he watched you slowly sink to your knees. He bit his tongue harshly as his eye went to your plush thighs pressed together, having the urge to squeeze them and feel if your skin was as soft as his mind imagined. 

You waited, wrapped in anticipation of what was to happen next. You shuddered as you felt his cold hand come to cup your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. Your eyes fluttered to a close at the surprisingly gentle touch, your body moving closer to him without any way of controlling it. As your eyes were still fluttered close, you felt the familiarizing way of his lips upon yours. You felt yourself already quivering and you placed your hand on Aemond’s leg to steady yourself. Aemond leaned forward to feel more of your lips, his cold touch placing itself on your shoulder, feeling the bare skin as the sleeve of your shift had dropped off. 

You moved to part from him, out of breath with the kiss you shared. The taste of him and wine imprinted on your tongue. Rose your gaze to meet his eye, and you saw that the lilac orb had turned dark. Without another word, Aemond smashed your lips once more. Kissing you more fervently and pulling you to stand. You whimpered as you felt him bite your lip and pull down further the thin cover you wore. You were in a daze as his lips kissed your sand, and his hands roamed your body, harshly gripping your behind as he led you to the bed. 

It was his turn to part your lips. You lay bare on the silk sheets of the feathered bed, his standing before you still fully clothed, and you feel a rush of embarrassment course through you, showing its evidence on your cheeks. Aemond hastily undid the buttons of his vest, eye still locked with yours; he did not miss the embarrassment and perhaps even scandal in your eyes, the tell-tale sign of your purity, and he could not help but succumb to more pleasure by the thought. 

You shifted your gaze as Aemond stood bare before you, the image of him quickly engraving itself in your mind. You bit your lip as you waited for him to shift his weight atop yours, but you were left perplexed when, from the side of your eye, you saw him sink to his knees. You propped yourself on your elbows as he pried your legs open, a deep frown on your face as you tried to comprehend what he was doing. When you noticed his head straying closer to your cunny, your eyes widened in further scandal. 

“What— Aemond, no!” You say breathlessly and try to close your legs shut, but his hold on your thighs is too strong. “You told me we must perform our duty, wife… let me perform them,” You could only fall back on the plush mattress as you felt the foreign feeling of lips upon your cunt. Aemond sucking upon the pearl of your cunt as his tongue would dart out and tease the bud. You breathed heavily and bit your lip to prevent any sound from being heard, which only made Aemond double his efforts, wanting to hear you be wrapped in utter pleasure. 

Aemond groaned at the taste of you, palming his length as it already wept, crying to be inside you, but he knew he must prepare you first. That he must savor you like this, for he did not know if after this— after this initial duty, when would be the next time he’ll have the opportunity to have your cunt against his face. 

Aemond finally pried a moan from you, smirking as he moved his finger to tease your folds, a louder moan coming from your lips as he teased your entrance. “A—Aemond,” You called as he inserted the digit, your body rigid and back arching the sensation. “Such a tight cunt… you kept yourself pure for me,” Aemond hummed and groaned as he felt your legs wrap themselves around his neck, pushing his face further to your cunt. He chuckled, and the vibrations from it made further wetness escape your cunt, your hips, your hips gaining itself upon his face; his finger found a companion, and the digits curled inside you. Brushing against the rough spot that spurred you quickly into your climax. Aemond groaned as he heard your muffled voice moaning his name.

You stared at the canopy bed as Aemond rose to his feet and finally placed his weight upon you, his lips finding yours again. You taste yourself on his tongue, and you cannot help but moan, Amend smirking as you find pleasure in tasting yourself; you were quite sweet. 

Aemond finally gave in to his wants and aligned himself against your entrance, brushing away your tears that were quick to escape your eyes as he pushed further into your cunt. He was cautious with his movements, not wanting to cause you any unnecessary discomfort. He was patient, waiting for the pained furrowed in your brows to turn to a furrow of pleasure; when it did, his thrust was still cautious. It was some pleasurable torture; he needed more, but he could not be so cruel to present you with such pain. 

“Faster,” You breathed out as you felt his thrusts were too slow to bring you to the climax you now sought. Aemond was uncertain if he heard you correctly, so he played it safe and kept his initial pace. “Aemond… please, I— I need it faster,” You urged, letting go of any pride in you as your body needed him. Aemond blinked for a moment, comprehending your quest before wholeheartedly obliging. 

Your moans spewed loudly as his thrusts were deep and fast, his finger drawing circles upon your cunt and supper you further into your release. “Oh gods… Oh gods, Aemond!” You cried and clawed his back as you came undone. Aemond groaned into the shell of your ear as his own release was quick to follow, his lips finding yours as his seed rooted itself deeply in your cunt. The thought of heirs already festering in his mind. 

That night, Aemond held you in his arms as you slept. His mind was made; he would do anything for your marriage to prevail, for the past to be shed and be forgotten. For you to be happy and contented in his arms, for he already was. As long as he had you, the only girl he had and will ever want and love, he was perfectly content with this blessing of a marriage they had disguised as a curse. 

Part Two: Loathe to Love

[eightmakesonebraincell]

you 🤝 me 🤝 sucker for royal aus

ateez as royals who fall for you (hyung line)

genre: royalty!ateez x fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, a brainrot and smutfest of royal tropes

length: 12.8k

c/w: very nsfw scenes - mdni, explicit language (dirty talk, swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, heavy & mature themes (sex work, murder, assassination, execution, mentions of misogyny)

a/n: this has simultaneously been the pride and joy of my life and the bane of my entire existence for the last 2.5 months 🥴 and tumblr is an inept incapable CLOWN who cannot handle the full 24k worth of bullet points so here is the hyung line first - maknae line coming soon (yumi @sorryimananti-romantic can vouch for my unsuccessful 3-hour attempt at formatting them into a single post)

hongjoong

pov: you're the king's royal courtesan

“fuck,” hongjoong lets out a deep growl from within his chest as his head dips down to rest against the crook of your neck. “you’re just as tight as last time”

when your hips involuntarily buck from the pleasure, he nudges your thighs further apart and keeps your wrists pinned above your head

he can’t help but let out another groan when he feels your walls clench around his cock as you adjust to his thickness

“i thought- god,” a moan escapes you after he thrusts his hips against you, “thought you never fucked the same woman twice”

“i don’t,” he simply says

and it’s true

hongjoong is one of the youngest princes to have ruled during the kim dynasty, having risen to power after the previous king succumbed early to an unknown illness

he has the choice and selection of all the courtesans available within the palace and outside its walls

hongjoong also has a reputation of being highly sought after by everybody, not just amongst courtesans

it’s not only because he is devilishly handsome, knows how to properly fuck somebody dumb, and is the literal king

the main thing that makes him so desirable and unreachable?

he never sees the same courtesan more than once

“yet here you are,” you hook your legs around hongjoong’s waist to gain leverage and meet his thrusts with your own hips, “between my legs for the second time”

you smirk when he curses and throws his head back

his grip on your wrists tightens and his voice drops dangerously low

“the first time doesn’t count because i was meant to see lady chae. so really, this is the first time i’m requesting for your services”

he silences you from retorting by pressing a bruising kiss against you, lips messily attaching to yours before trailing down the sharp angle of your jaw to bite your neck

you are a courtesan for people of nobility and royal status

part of the ‘house of flowers’ and commonly referred to as ‘flower courtesans’, you and the other women are highly-sought after for the companionship you offer

you are well protected by the house of flowers though - the services of companionship that you provide is requested by your client, but is ultimately accepted or rejected by you

lady chae, another of the flower courtesans and one of your closest friends, is requested by the king for her services

it is quite clear what it is going to entail and you both spend several of the following nights giggling and whispering scandalously to one another

whether the rumours about his stamina will be true

whether lady chae will be the first to break his one-fuck rule

except when the day of the meeting comes around, she spikes a sudden fever

lady shin, the head of the house of flowers, takes all but one look at her before ordering her to bed rest despite both of your attempts to, albeit unconvincingly, persuade lady shin that chae’s fever would only serve to help make the king’s dick warmer

lady shin is not amused to say the least

with the last minute hitch, the king agrees for you to be sent out to him as a replacement instead

and you end up being the flower courtesan who he breaks his reputed rule for

(lady chae is initially jealous, understandably)

(but very quickly, she appears to be even more excited than you are as she combs through your undergarments for the “sluttiest set” that she can find)

your attention is brought back as hongjoong flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, continuing to drag his length in and out of you while your back arches off the bed

you tease in between short breaths, “are you really bringing up another woman’s name while you have your cock inside me?”

“you brought it up first,” he reminds you, accentuating his answer with timed thrusts

you grind your hips against his, chasing more friction against your clit as you feel your high approaching

“why?” he snakes one of his hands down between your connected torsos to rub messy circles against your clit, smirking as he asks, “are you getting jealous already?”

for that, you clench down hard on his cock, immediately feeling the way it throbs inside of you as you bring him closer to his orgasm too

“as if. fuck off”

your words are hardly audible from the whines that are leaving your mouth due to the added pressure of another finger against your clit from your retaliation

“i’m close,” hongjoong releases his grip on your wrists so that he can straighten his body, anchoring his hand on your hip instead so that he can fuck you and rub your clit with his other hand with renewed vigour

when you hear him groan, “cum for me,” the string snaps and your whole body quivers in his hold as your orgasm washes over you

hongjoong’s hips gradually stutter to a pause, an occasional thrust inside your clenching pussy as he milks out the rest of his cum inside of you

he finally eases himself out of you and hums in satisfaction as he watches his cum slowly leak out of you

hongjoong drops down beside you, toned chest covered in a sheen layer of sweat as it rises up and down with his pants

when your fuzzy mind has cleared a little from the blissful haze of your orgasm, he strokes his fingertips along the side of your thigh, along the curve of your ass, and over the dip of your waist just under your breasts as he says, “you better not be jealous. first one to get jealous loses”

“if anyone’s going to get jealous first, it’s you,” you scoff back

he raises an eyebrow

oh yeah?

he shoves his leaking cum back inside of you and fingers you to another orgasm

now that shuts you up

for a man who barks, he sure has no bite, because you find yourself being notified by lady shin several days later of yet another request for your services under the king’s name

and another request turns into another

and every single time, hongjoong makes sure that the only word leaving your lips for those many hours is his moaned name

but at the same time, the more you and hongjoong meet, the more he just savours in your simple companionship

he asks you to teach him how to embroider because you’ve mentioned before it’s how you like to spend your free evenings

he rifles through your bag of materials that you bring

you smack his hand away at the carelessness with which he’s upturning everything

“what’s this?” he holds up a large, wooden hoop before trying to fit it through his head, “a necklace?”

“i wonder if people know they appointed an idiot to be king,” you say as you gently unscrew the hoops and demonstrate how to align a piece of fabric between the rings

he watches with interest as you screw the outer hoop tighter until the fabric is nice and taut and then repeat the process so you both have one to work with

you have to help hongjoong thread his needle too, because apparently the king’s fingers are only good for scissoring you open

you weave your own needle through the fabric at a slow pace whilst telling him the different names and uses of the stitches you’re showing him

except, when you look up to see if he’s following?

his own hoop has been abandoned to one side and he’s leaning against his hand as he gazes cheekily at you

“were you even paying attention?”

he sounds a little too confident when he answers not at all

in return, hongjoong shows you how to write hanja the next time you meet

he positions himself behind you with his hand over yours as he guides you through different characters stroke by stroke

he claims that there are specific ways of applying pressure to the brush so he has to be holding your hand at all times

you most definitely roll your eyes several times but you indulge him anyway

there are a lot of giggles and teasing pushes when you accidentally dip the end of your sleeve into the ink and you try to spread it onto his robes too

(the calligraphy may or may not become forgotten when hongjoong pins you down to stop your cheeky behaviour, because things naturally escalate whenever he has you under him)

you two do eventually manage to finish one decent-looking scroll of characters which he ends up gifting you so that you ‘don’t forget’ about him when you’re not with him

when you walk back into the house of flowers, the hanging scroll perks lady shin’s interest as you walk past

“hongjoong taught me how to write my name today”

lady shin waggles her eyebrows at you suggestively because of how casually you refer to the king, for which you nudge her with a shoulder

she laughs then asks to have a look

you unravel the paper to show her but then she makes a funny noise

“that’s not your name? these are the characters for- oh,” she cackles scandalously to herself, as if she has made a secret discovery

“what does it mean?” you hurry to clarify

you wouldn’t put it past him to have taught you a crude phrase instead, like ‘best tits’ or ‘biggest ass’

lady shin lets out an amused exhale, handing the scroll back to you

“it says, my flower”

you’re looking at those exact characters from where you lay on your bed when a knock sounds on your door several days later

lady shin steps into your room with a warm smile as you greet her

“you have an appointment with lord min tomorrow, but the king has just inquired about your service availability for tomorrow,” she informs you. “would you like me to give him the usual answer?”

this isn’t the first time a clash has occurred, particularly with the increasing frequency with which hongjoong requests to see you

you have always told lady shin to ask for hongjoong’s pardon and to offer him an alternative time or day, because in the end, you still need to maintain a professional and admirable reputation as a flower courtesan

and as you open your mouth to tell her ‘yes’, your eye catches the scroll hanging on your wall

my flower

you hesitate

“actually,” you look away from the hanja, “i’ll see hongjoong.”

lady shin gives you a motherly smile as she nods in understanding and closes the door behind her

the next day you see him, he excitedly points out the large tambour frame in his room that he bought just a few days prior, claiming you two can work on a big embroidery patch together now

you give him one look then demote him back to the small embroidery hoop because he still hasn’t learnt his basic stitches yet

(that’ll teach him to not pay attention when you’re demonstrating, ha)

you relent and end up going through the different stitches with him again anyway

and you find that he’s actually not that bad with embroidery once he’s actually focused on the task at hand

it’s nice, basking in each others presence while he threads his little square of fabric and you work with the large frame you have now essentially claimed as yours

not that hongjoong minds; he did buy it solely to make you happy

and then you offhandedly mention that someone had gifted you a handkerchief with your initials embroidered on one of the corners the other day

“i actually have it on me, in fact,” and you take it out from where it’s tucked into your waist so that you can show him

he juts out his chin as he peers down at the delicate letters, huffing, “it’s pretty, i guess”

then as an afterthought he tacks on, “bet i could do a better job”

“are you jealous right now, kim hongjoong?”

said man is hellbent on avoiding your eyes as he picks up his needle and thread again

“no i’m not!”

“whatever you say,” you smirk

after that day though, you don’t receive another request from hongjoong to meet until two weeks later

which, in the grand scheme of things, really isn’t much

but in comparison to the frequency at which you are used to seeing him, the frequency at which your body is used to having him, it is much too long

you are almost beginning to wonder whether you shouldn’t have brought up the handkerchief gift

yet, he greets you with his usual teasing squeeze of your waist, dangerously close to your ass

you make a move to follow him through the doors to his chambers but he turns around to produce a silk cloth

he starts to blindfold you, whispering sultrily, “i have a surprise for you”

you feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise at his tone

guiding you inside, hongjoong gently pushes you down so that you sink into the plush duvet of his bed

“do you trust me?” he whispers

trying not to dwell on the urge to lick your dry lips, you answer, “of course”

you feel him tugging slowly on the string that holds the front of your corset together, loosening your dress with tenderness like you are a fragile gift

you shiver when your shoulders are suddenly exposed to the cold air

and then the sensation is followed by the warmth of hongjoong’s soft exhales along the expanse of your collarbones as he leans closer to fully disrobe your shoulders

you have to remind yourself to keep breathing

“you can look now,” he tells you

you remove the silk cloth from around your eyes, unsure of what to expect

it takes a few blinks to readjust your vision to the room around you but then your eyes finally focus

and you gasp

there, hung on the wall with its striking viridian green, shimmering threads and intricate swirls on glorious display, is quite possibly the most stunning dress you have ever laid eyes upon

“try it on,” he encourages

but as you step closer, you realise the lacing across the front of the corset and running down the sleeves of the top dress is in fact, not lacing

it’s patchy

it’s uneven

it has empty areas

but it is no doubt embroidery

“did you…did you make this?” you reach out a hand to lightly caress one of the embroidered flowers, not quite daring to believe that hongjoong would go to these lengths for you

“of course,” he wraps his arms around you from behind and presses a light kiss against your temple, “i’m not losing to a lousy handkerchief”

“is that why you disappeared for two weeks?”

you let out a laugh, sinking into his embrace, because the image of the great king holed up in his chambers for days on end, hunched over your dress with a needle, thread and frown on his face is just too endearing

he lets out a warning huff as he turns you around in his embrace to face him

upturning his hands, he shows you the tips of his fingers and grumbles, “i poked myself so many times for you and you laugh at me?”

you bring his hands closer to your face, pressing light kisses to his fingertips as you smile, “thank you, joong. i love it so much, i really do”

he looks at you impossibly soft

under his tender gaze, something suddenly rushes to your very core

you hold one his hands steady in front of your lips then swirl your tongue out in an experimental lick over his fingers

it’s almost captivating how quickly his pupils dilate and zero in on your tongue

so you dare to bring his fingers into your mouth

you suck on them a little harder

a little deeper

and then you moan around his fingers, “i want you”

he lets out a groan himself, feeling the front of his breeches tighten as his cock twitches

“i- fuck, i didn’t give the dress to you in hopes that it would lead to this,” yet despite his words he is stepping you backwards so that he can pin you against the wall

“i know, but i want you,” you palm his growing bulge, your knees going weak at how hard he already is. “and i need you. now.”

he doesn’t need further encouragement

he shoves the remainder of your clothes aside before inserting his fingers roughly between your folds

it doesn’t take long for him to bring you to your first orgasm, curling his fingers relentlessly as you ride them

he spreads your cum over your pussy and you buck your hips with a whine when he circles over your clit briefly

then he’s turning you around and bending you over, one of your hands bracing against the wall, your other arm held behind your back by hongjoong’s firm grasp

“fuck, you’re so wet,” his whole body shivers with pleasure as his cock slips right into you

the obscene sounds of his hips slapping against your ass and your slick being pushed back into your hole over and over again fill the room

and to the clenching of your pussy from another orgasm, hongjoong also cums into you with a guttural groan of your name

he gently carries you to his bed and lays you on top of the covers

he leaves your side for a moment and you listen to him rummage through something while you try to regain control of your quaking legs

when he comes back, you feel him gently spreading your legs and then the ticklish sensation of a soft cloth along your inner thighs

a whine escapes your lips when he rubs over your sensitive clit and hongjoong grips your thigh a little tighter

“be careful what pretty sounds you’re making if you can’t handle another round”

it isn’t until he finishes cleaning you up and lies down next to you to start wiping himself down that you look over and realise what it is that he’s been using this whole time

your mouth drops in disbelief

when hongjoong notices your expression, he smirks, “the man who gave you this has no idea his handkerchief is being used to clean my cum off your thighs”

“hongjoong!” you flush with a laugh. “you are definitely jealous, aren’t you?”

“yes, i’m fucking jealous,” he growls, “you’re the only one i want. you’re the only woman i’ve been requesting for since i’ve seen you. and i want to be the only one who gets to have you, too”

you confess, “well, you can have all of me. because i’ve started refusing other people just for you”

he looks at you for another moment before he’s suddenly straddling your hips

“change of plans,” he says breathily, “i need you again”

“very good plan,” you grind up against him

and then you pause, mirth starting to bubble in your throat, “one last thing though”

hongjoong looks down with amusement in his own eyes, wondering what could possibly be so funny

“that handkerchief?” you start, struggling not to laugh when his eyes immediately narrow, “i never said it was from a man. it was a gift from lady chae”

seonghwa

pov: you're his royal guard

as soon as you notice the movement out of the corner of your eye, your body reacts straight away

you murmur seonghwa’s name with a tight voice and move to position yourself in front of him, unwilling to risk the prince’s safety

one of your hands grasps the hilt of your sword, ready to unsheathe it at the first sign of danger, as your calculative gaze darts between the two young men stumbling closer on the dirt path and the line of forest trees from which they appear

they are wearing simple tunics and breeches with their colour faded and seams loosening from wear

from what you can discern, they are simply commoners, but that does not rule out the possibility that they are bandits

seonghwa seems to think otherwise, though

unsurprising but still grating

the prince places his hand on your shoulder gently in a silent reassurance and request for you to step aside

albeit reluctantly, you force yourself to move to his left

it becomes clear to you as the two figures stop just shy of a few feet away that the term ‘men’ was pushing it - their faces are young and they appear to be no older than seventeen or eighteen

the young strangers dip their head in greeting, one of them apologising as well as he pulls out a tattered map that he extends out for you two to see

“my companion and i are traveling to the village norshaw but seem to have lost our way. would you be able to point us in the right direction?” the one with the map asks

“of course,” seonghwa offers with a kind smile

you watch as the three of them step closer together to look more closely at the map

on high alert, and just as you are predicting, you see the companion shuffle closer to seonghwa, hand inching towards the leather pouch that hangs from the prince’s belt

you catch the subtle motion of seonghwa’s eyes flickering down just an inch

because of how well you understand his body language, you know that it means he has already noticed the thieving intention

but because of how well you understand seonghwa, you know that he isn’t going to do anything about it either

so you strike in his stead

your hand darts out to snatch the thieve’s wrist, twisting his forearm upwards so that he is forced to lean awkwardly towards one side to prevent his elbow from snapping

his partner drops the map, letting out a string of curses and hesitating for all but three seconds before he turns around to flee

scoffing, you threaten the one who is still in your hold, who then bolts with his tail between his legs after you release him

"did you really need to scare them off like that? it's not like i had any money in the pouch anyway," seonghwa chastises with a chuckle

"yes," you deadpan. "i did not spend the last two hours of our trip pausing every fifty meters to wait for you to pick up a rock because you thought it looked pretty, only for them to be stolen by a pair of petty thieves"

"it would have been funny to imagine their faces after realising what they stole," seonghwa grins

“mhm,” you hum, “and the next thing you know, you’ll wake up to your palace ransacked, because word in town is that you can steal from the prince and get away with it”

he levels you with a boyish scowl, “you’re so dramatic. what are you, my mother?”

“no, but i am your royal bodyguard”

“exactly. you are my bodyguard, not my brainguard. if i am to be swindled of my pretty rocks, then so be it”

you roll your eyes out of exasperation, but everything is swiftly forgotten minutes later when you point out a heart-shaped rock and seonghwa rushes over to pick it up

it has been like this ever since the incident occurred - him, the sunshine; you, the sunshine protector

it has been almost four years since it happened

somebody had attempted arsenic poisoning of not only seonghwa, but also those working under him

you had noticed strange discolouring of the silverware in the kitchen and on the table serving his dinner, which prompted an investigation and subsequent discovery of the perpetrator

an act of betrayal and treachery by one of his closest relatives - his very own uncle

seonghwa was - still is - too merciful and tender-hearted to punish his uncle, even if the severity of his uncle’s crimes warranted execution

to have his trust broken so shatteringly hurt seonghwa more than if he were to actually have been poisoned

you still remember like it was yesterday; the sight of the prince slumped against the wall, weighed down by chains of turmoil and despair as whispers fly through the palace of the weak-hearted prince who is unable to deliver fair judgement

it is the sight of the prince looking so small and lost that drives your feet forward to stand before him

as the soft draught coming through the windows tugs gently on your tresses and the flickers of candlelight illuminate the glint of steel in your hand, you make a decision

“i’ll be your sword,” you pledge

not just as his royal guard, but as his haven when he is forced to face corruption and wickedness

and when you see the way his shoulders immediately sag with relief at your declaration, the way he nods like a child who has been reassured that everything will be okay, you tell yourself that seonghwa will never have to dirty his hands as long as you are with him

you will be the dark to his light; the yin to his yang

quietly, you see to it that his uncle is executed for his crimes - your statement to the rest of the palace that prince seonghwa is not to be mocked

neither of you bring it up again, but seonghwa knows

he pulls you into a wholehearted hug, arms enveloping you securely as his chest shakes with shuddering breaths of thank you over and over again

you rub your hand up and down his sturdy back soothingly

it is an action that simultaneously reciprocates his embrace and his crossed line of professionalism

one that starts the shift in dynamic between you both, boundaries of sought comfort blurring with friendship and then something more

where seonghwa is too trusting and too soft-spoken, you become his skepticism and his voice

“you should be more wary of others,” you always remind him

“and you should be more trusty of others,” he’ll retort

yet, he will never make a decision that does not receive your input nor one that you do not agree with

where seonghwa is too gentle and too humble, you become his sword and his shield

you do not waver when you strike down foe, and friends turned foe alike

you speak up and establish firm boundaries when others take advantage of the respect he shows everybody regardless of their class or status

and yet, if you find yourself on the receiving end of someone’s condescension or discriminatory treatment, be it due to your rank as a guard or identity as a woman, seonghwa will be advancing forward to defend you before you can do so yourself

where seonghwa is too innocent and too bushy-tailed, you become his eyes and his caution

your morning walks together always last for longer than they are scheduled for

he stops to watch every butterfly and bumblebee that flutters along the flowery path, and he waits for caterpillars to crawl onto a leaf that he holds by the stem so that he can move the critters off the pathway

you love to watch him and his glittering eyes, his cheeks rosy from happiness and from the air still crisp with morning dew

but you also make sure to watch his surroundings with greater vigilance because the quiet peace that the freshly awoken sun brings simultaneously increases the likelihood of a targeted attack against him

as much as you rib him for being a marshmallow personified, however, and as much as he banters back that you are more than welcome to resign at any time, neither of you want it any other way

seonghwa carries out a lot of gestures that he justifies to himself as being eternally grateful for you and the things you do for him

he likes to gift you flowers he has plucked from his garden or the bushes he walks past that remind him of you

(“that’s actually just a very pretty-looking weed, but thank you, seonghwa,” you tell him on more than one occasion)

(it’s adorable, because the next time he finds a flower, he goes to the length of certifying that it is indeed a flower with the merchant who sells bouquets in the nearby town before presenting it to you, eyes gleaming with pride)

you stand still and let him tuck a flower behind your ear, sometimes braiding your hair gently so that he can weave and secure the stem into your hair, holding your breath as his features fill with the same enrapturement that he would admire a beautiful artwork with

after you voice this out one day, seonghwa supposes to himself that there is not much difference between an artwork and you

not that he’s attracted to you or anything - you just…have an objectively attractive face

yes.

especially when your usually-piercing expression is softened by fatigue, guard no longer up as you sleep slumped over a desk while accompanying him during his late night of studies

he does not realise his feet have moved until he is right beside your resting form, as if the soft exhales escaping from your slightly parted lips are a siren’s song

seonghwa tenderly brushes your stray locks away from your face and behind your neck

except he forgets to account for the fact that you are trained to sleep on the brink of consciousness

the squeal that leaves his mouth when your reflexes kick in and you almost slit his throat resounds at a frequency so high you almost believe it comes from your own mouth

you have a grand time watching his beet red face stutter out an excuse as to what exactly he was doing so close to you

needless to say, that is the last time seonghwa ever tries to do anything while you are sleeping

but as much as he bumbles around, he also reveals his perceptiveness when you least expect it

like now, as you accompany the prince to one of his meetings with numerous advisors and ministers

it is relatively dull and uneventful, mostly a cordial appearance to maintain amicable and loyal relationships with his subjects

conversation is limited to pleasantries and at one point, seonghwa even points out the calligraphy paintings hung at the back of the room

everyone nods with throaty laughs as if the paintings are indeed the most exquisite and tasteful artworks they have ever laid their eyes upon

when you and seonghwa arrive back at his chambers following the conclusion of the meeting, he walks over to his bed and shakes the sleeves of his robe over the expanse of his duvet

and out drops a neatly-wrapped sweet, followed by another, then another, until there are enough to amount to two handfuls

baffled, you look at seonghwa, because these are the very same treats that had been plated on the tables during the meeting

“you smuggled candy out of the room?” you try to keep the amusement out of your voice

he peers into his sleeves to ensure there are no more stragglers, before turning to face you as he waves his hands over the small collection of goods on his bed

as if they are-

“for you!” he exclaims almost proudly. “i saw you eyeing them during the meeting so i took some for you”

okay

most definitely proudly 

you feel something tickling you from within, as if he has reached through your chest to directly caress your heart with a delicate finger

“when did you even…” your voice trails off when it comes out a little fonder than you are expecting it to

“remember the paintings i pointed out?” seonghwa giggles, and you think that the hand in your chest is now cradling your heart completely. “i swiped the sweets when everyone was looking back at them”

“thank you, hwa,” you settle on saying, because you do not trust yourself to say anything else

that is more than enough for him, though

which, of course it is - this is seonghwa, with his huge heart that fills easily with the smallest of things

he eagerly hands you one of the treats and you unwrap it to place into your mouth

you’ve had these before, but this one that he has specially grabbed for you tastes remarkably sweeter

you wonder if his lips will taste the same…

but then you accidentally bite your tongue, hard enough to draw blood, and you realise just how wrong you are for letting those fleeting thoughts into your mind

because while you navigate the world in thick droplets of red and sharp glints of silver, seonghwa sees the world in soft hues of pastel and gleaming rays of yellow

how could the two palettes ever blend together harmoniously?

so instead, you grant yourself one last moment of selfishness and pull him into a hug, a gesture that toes the already shaky borders of professionalism yet can still be excused under the guise of friendship

you realise that he has always meant much more to you, but that is what this will stay as - a mere realisation

seonghwa wraps his arms around your form as he relaxes into the way your bodies naturally meld together

it’s strange how easily you slot into his life, his thoughts, his heart

he wonders whether it’s possible for feelings of appreciation to run so deeply and potently within somebody, like a drug that he cannot get enough of

and when you take a step away from him, leaving his chest feeling physically and emotionally empty, he wonders if he is perhaps…

in love with you

following that incident, it is almost as if a switch flips - both of you take several steps away from the line that has been danced around

but neither of you notice the distance because you are both consumed by your own thoughts

until one of your usual morning walks around the castle walls of his palace

seonghwa is wondering whether the bushes you walk past remind you of the flowers he used to gift you and you are debating whether to reach out to brush a petal out of his half ponytail 

then, like deja vu, your eyes flicker towards the burst of movement as a figure covered in black comes darting forwards with their blade raised intended for murder

you immediately start to unsheathe your sword, feet poised and prepared to defend-

until you are harshly tugged back and the prince steps in front of you to parry the strike that the assassin tries to land

it takes your lifetime of training and experience to snap back into focus and thrust your sword into the enemy’s exposed side

when you are sure he is dead, you whirl around to descend upon seonghwa with a voice trembling from both anger and relief

“what in the world were you thinking?” you yell

“i-”

taking a step forward, you toss your sword to one side, “no, actually. you weren’t thinking at all”

“i was afraid that you would get hurt!” he takes his own step closer

“that is my duty!” the volume of your voice raises even more. “i am willing to lay down my life to ensure your safety! i have been guarding you for years now and you have never acted this way. what has changed?”

for a moment, the only sound that punctuates the silence is your harsh breathing

seonghwa swallows

“my feelings…” he whispers, a stark contrast to the peak of emotions you have been riding. “my feelings for you have changed”

your throat tightens at his words

it is your turn to whisper, a noise of confusion leaving your lips

he takes another step closer, bringing himself to stand right in front of you as he looks down earnestly into your eyes

“i’d rather be the protector, and you be the protected”

“but…why?” your heart races with anticipation

“because i’m in love with you” 

right at the invisible border that has been separating you two for as long as you have been his guard, seonghwa now stands, hands wringing together as he awaits a response

“then that makes the two of us,” you confess

you step forward to take your familiar spot on the other side of the line, except this time you do not stop

you stride over the boundary completely to stand by his side

raising yourself onto your tiptoes, you pull him down slightly by the front of his doublet so that you can press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips

it stretches wider and curves upwards under the nurturing of your own smile

you can’t help but give him another kiss on the other side of his mouth to match the one you just gave him

“from now on,” seonghwa starts, “i’ll be your sword”

you wouldn’t really, and you will fight him to let you continue being his guard, but that doesn’t stop one last teasing question from escaping you

“does this mean i get to retire?”

yunho

pov: you're part of a rebel group

the crown prince is not in his fucking library

for the past three weeks, the crown prince has always been in the royal library at night

until today

under normal circumstances, his royal guards and staff would be alerted to ensure that the deviance in routine is a conscious decision and not an issue of the crown prince missing

except doing that would make your job significantly harder…

considering you have been ordered to assassinate him.

you’re part of the ‘red sun’, a revolutionary movement aiming to overthrow the current monarch

following the debilitating state of the king after falling ill and the subsequent coronation of queen jeong into power, she has since then established numerous royal decrees to keep everyone under her reign on a tight leash

a leash made of barbed wire

people are quick to become resentful and thirsty for an end to the dictatorship and bloodline

although he has made limited public appearances, the crown prince has also developed a reputation rivaling the queen’s

within the second year of the jeong dynasty, red sun has already amassed a multitude of supporters

the focus is currently on growing in numbers, preparing for an imminent revolution and picking off corrupt royals and noblists, be it through incrimination or assassination

dealing with those in positions of higher power is a task only completed by an elite selection of red sun rebels who have distinguished skills and traits that set them apart from peasants and commoners

and you are amongst the elite team

which is why you find yourself staking out on the tiled roof of the imperial palace, clothed in black with a mask and hooded cowl covering your face that blends you in with the darkness of night, on the orders of a higher-up to assassinate the crown prince

except the target is missing; the information you were given is wrong

which never happens

you can’t risk staying around for much longer, especially now that the crown prince has broken his routine

he could be anywhere and so could his royal guards

you shift your body to a crouch and place your hands on the cool tiles beneath you, ready to leave

only to spot a figure, crouched just like you are, on the opposite side of the roof

their face is a black hole of nothing within the shrouded confines of their hood, but you can feel their gaze piercing into you all the same

you run

you scramble to the edge of the roof and nimbly leap off the curved eaves to the neighbouring structure of the study room

when you glance backwards, you see the man - physique now obvious - is keeping up easily along the stepping stones of roofs

this game of cat and mouse isn’t going to work for long

if you don’t get caught by him first, you’re both going to get caught by the palace guards

so you make a split decision and alter your next trajectory lower

keeping your arms outstretched for the eaves, you grab on tightly when your fingers touch the edge of the roof and use your core to kick your legs up to stop your body from slamming into the wall from the momentum of your jump

you let go and drop to the ground like a feline, noiseless, and slink towards a line of trees

then you wait

he’s good, you note to yourself, when the only sound that alerts you to his presence is the quick scuffle of his feet as he softens his impact against the wall and the muted thud of his body landing on the ground

“state your purpose,” he demands, voice low yet firm

you ignore him to ask, “who are you?”

now up close, you can see that the man is wearing attire almost the same as you are, identity also hidden by the his bandana and hood-

wait

even the dark red stitching that subtly replaces the original seam on the right shoulder of his outer clothing is the same

the same as those on the elite team

“one of you,” he confirms your suspicions

except you don’t recognise his voice nor his build

being one of the earliest members of the rebel organisation, you are familiar with all the members who carry out missions like yours

he is not one of them; not one you can trust yet

when you don’t speak, he adds on, “we need to go. the safehouse might be in danger”

we

he refers to the two of you so easily, as if you and him are an unspoken team

you cannot trust this man until you know for sure he is part of red sun, so you ask him

“when is red most beautiful?”

it is a vague question with a fixed answer

one that reflects the heart of the revolutionary itself

during the sunrise of a new beginning 

“during the sunrise of a new beginning,” the man says resolutely

the tension releases from your shoulders 

“okay,” you opt to abandon your original mission. “let’s check on the safehouse”

the man offers you a hand to hike yourself up onto one of the outer walls of the palace before he jumps up himself with ease

you both flip over the top and land in unison

the moon illuminates the ground beneath your feet as you both sprint into the surrounding forest

the safehouse is really just a small hut situated far enough from the palace to stay inconspicuous, yet not close enough to the outer borders of the kingdom to risk discovery by the frequent border patrols

you both slow down as you approach the clearing, steadying your breaths and treading with cautious steps

and then you hear it

the shattering clang of a desperate parry

all it takes is a quick glance at the man by your side before your eyes harden with purpose and your steps are dashing in unison towards the hut

you’re both hit with the smell of a metallic tang in the air, and it’s not from your drawn swords

bursting through the door, you quickly take in the scene before you

several red sun members are scattered around the hut and slumped in varying degrees of injury

it’s easy to spot the intruder; they’re yanking their sword out of a body’s torso as they simultaneously turn to look at you

and it’s hard to miss the royal insignia of the jeong monarch on their chest plate

you have the element of surprise

but only for the next few seconds

you leap forward with the thud of footsteps of your partner following almost immediately, side-stepping once you close the distance to dodge a haphazard swing 

there’s a brief break in defense when the enemy tries to aim for another strike that leaves the gap in the side of their armour exposed

you feel the slight resistance of your sword entering flesh as you thrust it forward into them

except when you try to tug it back out, a hand grasps your own and the hilt of your sword, stopping you from stepping away

the enemy has realised they are not going to make it out of this alive

but if they are to die, then they are going to take one last person with them

you.

you see glint of metal as they use their other hand to swing their sword down onto you, only for it to be deflected at the last second by another sword

the man you have met for barely an hour is now at your side with his towering protectiveness

in one smooth kick, his long leg sends the other careening into the wall of the hut with a mighty slam

you feel yourself jerking forward from the enemy’s grasp still on your hand

but the man next to you quickly tucks you into his side before you are also sent sprawling

“check on the others,” he briefly says, and then he is striding towards the fallen intruder

you only spare him another quick glance and then you rush to the nearest figure on the ground

you go around checking for pulses, and for those who are still breathing, the extent of their injuries

there are several casualties but nowhere near as many if you and the man had not come to check on the safehouse

which suddenly makes you pause in your tracks

how did he know about the attack in the first place?

you stretch your legs from their squatted position next to one of the red sun members and turn around to confront him

except…the man has disappeared

and so has the intruder’s body

days later, the question of whether you will chance upon the man again tonight flits through your mind when you find yourself perched in the very same spot on the tiled roof of the palace that gives you a clear view of the royal library

you have received another order to assassinate the crown prince as soon as you see the opportunity arise

this time, the note is accompanied by a cyanide capsule, a non-verbal message that this mission is to occur with your life on the line

you spot him

he’s preoccupied by the scroll in his hand as he makes his way through the shelves of parchments

you wait until he’s walked far enough into the library before you drop down from the roof, keeping your stance low to ensure you stay hidden as you silently move closer

you take out the jagged dagger from its sheath by your waist as you anticipate it will be too difficult to wield your long sword in the narrow aisles

and there the crown prince stands

he has his back to you, exposing him to your mercy

mercy that you have no intention of showing him

the cruel heir to the throne of an even crueler dictatorship deserves none

“it’s you again, isn’t it?”

you freeze

the crown prince still has not turned around to address you, but you can feel the dark gaze of his eyes on you as if he were looking at you

“you were here a few days ago”

fuck

how he knows you have no idea

what you do know though is that you have about two seconds to make a move before you lose this chance to assassinate him completely, and quite possibly, lose your life as well

the pill you have hidden in the breast of your tunic feels heavy

“you are part of red sun, are you not?”

this time the crown prince does turn around to face you, but it isn’t the nonchalance with which he reveals your identity that makes your head reel

it is the warmth and softness in his gaze and the hint of a smile on his face that does

what the actual fuck

you’re convinced that the crown prince is not only heinous, but also batshit crazy

“i am,” you spit out at him, “with orders to assassinate you, in fact”

his mouth thins into a tight line, “the orders you have received are false”

“sounds exactly like something a crown prince would say to avoid being assassinated,” you scoff

but then his next words change everything

“red is most beautiful during the sunrise of a new beginning”

before you have time to fathom the bomb that has just been dropped, your heads swivel simultaneously towards the entrance of the royal library when a voice calls out for the crown prince

“hide,” he hisses urgently

and then he’s stepping further away to conceal your presence as best as possible

you hear the shuffle of footsteps approaching before they stop, dangerously close to where you’re crouched behind a bookshelf

“apologies for interrupting your time, crown prince,” they say

from where you are you can see the crown prince’s expression clear as he lets out a small huff, “i have told you many times to just call me yunho”

“of course, crown prince yunho”

even though you can’t see the other person’s expression, you can hear the amusement in their voice

they continue, “i have the information you have requested for”

“thank you,” you see him - yunho - receive a small scroll. “the queen does not know?”

“no, i made sure to be as discreet as possible”

yunho thanks the other once again and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets when he bows his head in appreciation as he dismisses them

is this the same crown prince as the rumours?

and what is he doing behind his mother’s back?

you don’t realise you’ve been staring dumbly at him until he’s back in front of you with amusement on his face

he stands tall and proud, robes accentuating his stature and nobility

“who exactly are you,” you dare to ask

your voice is small - you feel small, crouched at his feet like a stark physical representation of the power he holds over you

but then he takes yet another step closer and kneels down so that your eyes meet at the same level

“i am the leader of red sun. the creator of the whole revolution”

your ankles actually do give out at that and you have to seat yourself on the floor

because how is any of this possible?

you must have voiced your thoughts out loud, because before you know it, yunho is crossing his legs and making himself comfortable on the floor right in front of you

it makes you feel so strange

the crown prince’s willingness to make himself an equal before you - and even to his staff from earlier

yunho starts to explain

a change in monarch, particularly one of such dictatorship, requires massive momentum and synergy; something he cannot produce alone nor without the support of the people

thus, red sun came into existence for the exact same reason you and all the other supporters have joined

in hopes of a sunrise one day that marks a new beginning

a new leadership

except recently he has had growing suspicious of the presence of a traitor within the organisation, which were confirmed the night the safehouse was attacked

“that night…that man was you,” you realise, “and that’s how you know who i am”

he nods, “and that’s also how i know your orders are false.” yunho nudges you playfully with his knee, “pretty sure i never ordered for my own assassination”

yunho continues to explain that he had taken the intruder back for interrogation, but then you frown when he reveals the enemy had swallowed a suicide pill before any information could be gained

he has an inkling that someone in a high position of power is involved, since the pills are almost impossible to gain access to, but it cannot be ruled out as a coincidence

“hang on,” you pull down the top of your tunic in a hurry

yunho scrambles to cover his eyes and turns his head as he jokingly sputters out, “woah okay, this is moving a little fast don’t you think?”

you tug impatiently on the sleeve of his robe, telling him to look

yunho hesitates for another second before lowering his hands and realising you have-

“a suicide pill?” 

you look at each other, because this can only mean one thing

the pills are not a coincidence; the enemy is much closer than yunho would like

you’re both unsure how much time there is until the traitor decides to order someone else to assassinate yunho, or worse, decides to finish the job off themselves

but from that very night of discovery, you and yunho work together incessantly against a ticking time bomb

it’s a delicate balance between finding as many leads as you can and spreading out your investigations to stay under the radar

yunho tries to look further into the cyanide pills while you try to uncover any information regarding the order you had been given

whoever is behind it all has kept their tracks hidden well

there isn’t much to report from either of your ends whenever you sneak into the palace to meet up with yunho

but he makes it very hard for you to feel discouraged when he makes your meetings seem like casual catch ups between - you dare say - friends

you have yet to catch him by surprise whenever you drop down from the roof in front of him in an attempt to scare him; he has an uncanny ability to sense your presence

except, you think you prefer being unsuccessful, because your indignant grumbles never fail to bring out his toothy grin and an excited body jiggle

other times he is the one trying to fluster you

“remember that time you literally tried undressing yourself in front of me-”

“i was taking the pill out to show you!” 

you bring your thumb and index finger closer together in front of your face and squint at the gap

“i am this close to changing my mind and assassinating you after all”

he gets a kick out of it, pretending to beg for your mercy, “oh please spare me, your majesty”

other times, yunho teases you for always keeping your cowl and mask on

“bet it’s because you’re ugly or something,” he jokes

and you bite back that he had his face covered too when you both met, so you’re one to talk, ugly

“but since then i’ve always shown you my face as the crown prince. you can see me nice and clear,” he suddenly leans forward, so close you can see the dip of his cupid’s brow. “what do you think about me now?”

you swallow hard

you’re glad you have your mask on because you can feel your face rapidly heating up

“i think…” you gently cup his jaw, “you look better with your mask on,” as you nudge his face to the side

you cannot help but join in with your own chuckles at his laughter and boyish glee

and eventually, you two have a breakthrough

yunho manages to trace the cyanide back to a traveling merchant operating under the guise of selling rare herbs and medicine

in the transaction ledger, there is an unusually large purchase under the name of ‘lee minjun’

“i’m sure i’ve seen the name before somewhere, but i can’t remember where,” yunho huffs

you let out your own huff at his elbow that has very naturally taken a rest on your shoulder

pulling out a stack of paper, you spread it out onto the table before you two

they are past records of certain red sun missions that, upon looking back, seem suspicious

“i noticed a mark on a couple of them, a drawing or character perhaps? except none of them are fully intact. it’s almost like the paper was accidentally marked”

you point them out to yunho in hopes that he will have a better idea

he doesn’t - not at first

not until he chances upon two that vaguely align with each other to form a clearer image

“this-” yunho runs his hand through his hair, “this is butler lee’s stamp. my father’s butler.”

the king’s butler?

lee?

your eyes snap to yunho’s, just as his meet yours

“lee minjun”

you sink back in your seat

there’s now definite proof that the king’s butler is at the very least involved

the question of why and what for remains

in fact, you and yunho would not put it past the queen either to be involved too

there is a long moment of shared silence as you both mull over what this means for the future

yunho breaks the silence first

“after this all ends…do you want to work for me, officially?” he clears his throat, “will you stay by my side?”

after this all ends

you two must still uncover butler lee’s motives; likely part of a much grander scheme involving queen jeong too

you two must still bring down the whole monarch; with the support of red sun, yunho needs to sit on his rightful throne

the sun has yet to rise but you can see the faint hues of orange and twilight blue in the horizon

the new beginning is close

and at that, something in you relaxes

crumbles and disintegrates with utter relief

“it would be my honour to stay by your side forever, yunho”

and then you are removing your hood and mask, daring to breathe and feel alive and hopeful for once

ironically, yunho chokes on air

you glance at him to find that he is unable to meet your eyes

you think your eyes are deceiving you because-

the tips of his ears are a glowing red

you could definitely get used to seeing the usually calm and collected crown prince become a shy, blushing mess

the corner of your mouth rises with smugness, “like what you see?”

“you should really keep your hood and mask on,” he mumbles

“and why is that?” you humour him

he finally looks at you

and when he sees the shit-eating grin plastered across your face, his shoulders suddenly fill out again with confidence and cockiness to match yours

“because,” his voice deep and flirtatious, “with a pretty face like that, you’re going to distract me from my duties”

yeosang

pov: you're in an arranged marriage with him

ever since you could understand the words coming out of your parents’ mouths, you have known that you will be married to yeosang

it just made sense

for the respective princess and prince of two powerful kingdoms to join together, leading to increased power and stronger allies

it is tradition for the pair to meet their chosen spouse for the first time only when both parties have turned sixteen, and even then, subsequent meetings are rare until the time of the actual wedding

so you spend the first sixteen years of your life infatuated with the idea of your prince charming - of prince yeosang - wondering what he looks like, what his personality is like, and how you two will fall in love

and when you finally reach that long-awaited first meeting, prince charming is everything and more than what you have envisioned

if angels with broken wings were exiled to earth, they would look like yeosang

he is soft-spoken and slightly reserved, as any awkward teenager meeting their future spouse would be, but you don’t miss the way that his eyes overflow with adoration and his shoulders shake with exuberant giggles whenever his little sister, yeoreum, comes tottering into the room

he always bends down onto one knee to match her eye level, uncaring of the stains that mark his pants even as his mother narrows her eyes in disdain, and he listens with utmost sincerity when yeoreum tells him about the secret pink and glittery fairy she spotted in the courtyard 

they remind you of the relationship you share with your own little brother, juwon, who is barely half your age and height, yet has you wrapped around his little finger

you lean down closer with a hum at the soft tug on your dress to hear your little brother whisper conspiratorially into your ear, “he looks stupid”

if looks could kill, yeosang would be dead right now

you stifle a laugh as you flick juwon’s chin affectionately at his sudden display of childish jealousy

if anything, you’re pretty sure you are the one who looks stupid

stupidly in love

because walking away from that first meeting with yeosang and his family, you know that you are absolutely smitten for the prince

unable to quell the restlessness of having to wait until the next unforeseeable meeting, you pick up a quill that very same day you return to your palace and start writing

it takes you all night, the gentle gleams and winks of the stars keeping you company until they rotate shifts with the songs of the waking world

but by the time you have crossed out and scrunched your way through rolls and rolls of parchment paper, you are satisfied with the letter you have written

the letter addressed to prince yeosang, which you task eunju, one of your maids, with passing it to the royal couriers for delivery to the kang palace

it is a simple letter, thanking him for the enjoyable day, yet it holds the deeper message that you are interested in him and would like to become better acquainted before your marriage

you wonder whether his cheeks will flush a pretty red as his butler hands him your letter

whether he will trace his fingers delicately over the curve of your words

whether he will bite back a smile as he pictures you saying the words to him

two weeks pass, and you approximate the letter to have just been delivered to his kingdom

and although you desperately wish for him to immediately sit down with a quill in hand to pen out his reply, you wait and give him a week before you eagerly start counting down the days until the arrival of his letter

your whole life you have been able to wait patiently

you wonder what has changed now that mere weeks feel like an eternity

the day yeosang’s letter is due to arrive, you are sporadic bursts of giggles, twirls and skips throughout the palace

even juwon is starting to become sick of getting swept up into a crushing hug to the cheery tune of i loveee youuuu every single time you pass him

nothing can bring you down from cloud nine

only…the letter never comes

not the day after, not the week after, not the month after

you’re disappointed, of course, but you busy yourself with reasons why yeosang has not replied, and you don’t give up

you send him another letter, and then another, and another

sometimes you just tell him about your day - what made you smile, what made you sad, something interesting you saw, something your little brother said

other times you tell him about yourself - your hobbies, likes and dislikes, aspirations, fears 

and you also wonder about him

you ask what he likes, what he smiles at, what makes him sad, what his dreams are

with each letter that you hand over to eunju to be delivered, it becomes harder and harder to stay optimistic - not even the words of encouragement from your favourite maid lifts your spirits

you continue like this for over a year, still yet to receive a reply 

until-

you do.

it feels like you are brought back to that very night of your first meeting, feeling so very alive as hope and excitement cascade into your body the moment eunju hands you a letter with a smile

with shaking hands, you fumble to unpeel the wax seal and free the envelope’s contents - a single piece of paper, neatly folded

your mind races with anticipated words and explanations

perhaps he had been too shy to reciprocate your letters earlier

or perhaps your letters had been lost in transit

you unfold the parchment as the hairs on your skin raise in anticipation, only to find it blank save for one scrawled sentence in the middle of the paper-

stop sending me letters.

and just like that, the clock strikes twelve

your carriage reverts into a pumpkin

and your carefully curated story of prince charming disintegrates into ashes

you don’t write to him again.

years later, the stacks of parchment scrolls on the wooden desk of the guest room you are currently residing in feel like a fresh slap in the face each time your eyes land on them

they are a stark reminder of your very own letters, the cold rejection you received, and the irony of the only letter you ever received again following his being one from the kang monarchs, announcing the proceeding of the royal wedding between you and their son

now, only a few days newly-wed to yeosang, the king and queen are gracious enough to let you sleep in one of the guest rooms temporarily, under your claims of adjusting to a life in a new kingdom and as a wife

really, you are trying to avoid yeosang for as long as you can

you spend your time instead getting to know his little sister better, which is why you find yourself sitting side by side with yeoreum, legs dangling off the edge of your bed

she eyes the vase of flowers on your bedside table curiously, “did you buy that?”

“no,” you reach out to touch the baby’s breath, “someone delivered it to my room”

you had offhandedly mentioned to some of your staff the other day that flowers would make your room look more homey, and you had woken up the morning after to find the beautiful vase teeming with flowers next to you

“why?” you ask yeoreum when she hums thoughtfully

“it looks just like the vase in my brother’s room, but he’s weird about it. yeo never lets anyone touch it, much less have it”

you blanch a little, “in that case i’ll give it back to him later then”

“you don’t like it? or…you don’t like my brother? my brother talks about you a lot, you know,” she reveals

caught off-guard by her perceptiveness, you reveal that you have been hurt before

you don’t specify by what exactly or who it is that you’re talking about, but she seems to understand regardless

later that night, sweet yeoreum barges into yeosang’s room and with as much feistiness as she can muster, she glares at her brother and interrogates, “what did you do to make her upset?”

before he can so much as blink, yeoreum concludes, “you boys are dumb. go talk to her and fix it or something,” and then walks out with a huff

there’s no one there to witness it, but yeosang nods anyway

heart feeling a little heavy after your conversation with yeoreum, you head towards the kitchen to seek solace in the sweet pastry you are usually served each morning

the first time you tasted the danish pastry, decorated with strawberries and cream cheese, was when you had traveled to yeosang’s palace at the age of sixteen for your first meeting

you remember the blissful expression that had bloomed across your face with your initial bite, and no dessert ever captivated your tastebuds quite the same way ever again

if there is one good thing out of this arranged marriage with yeosang, then it would be the reunion between yourself and the strawberry danish

“your highness,” the head chef bows, followed by the rest of the staff in the kitchen, “how may we help you?”

when you ask for one of the pastries, the head chef apologises that there are none

“but we can make you one now, if you do not mind waiting”

you tell him not to go to the trouble and ease his worries, “i just thought there may have been leftover pastries”

“we make only one fresh every morning, specifically for you,” the chef explains, and confusion must settle across your features because he adds on, “his highness has expressed that you may like them”

oh?

flustered, you can only muster a short response of, “i do, thank you,” before you smile once more and excuse yourself

because of all people to notice and remember such a small detail, and then to go out of their way to put in the request with the kitchen on the off chance that it was still true, it was yeosang? 

first the vase, and now this

you feel something deeply buried inside of you start to stir but you rush to nip it in the bud

your head and your heart are beginning to wage war against each other and suddenly everything feels like it’s too much

when you reach your bedroom, you throw open the double doors to step out onto the balcony, welcoming the chilling breeze of the darkening sky

you’re tired of fearing rejection if you open up

you’re tired of questioning yeosang’s intentions

and on top of it all, you suddenly miss home and you miss your parents and you miss juwon and-

“are you okay?”

yeosang’s soft question startles you, having missed his knocking at your door

he walks closer to join you out on the balcony when he sees that the answer is obviously a no, and he prompts you again, “what’s wrong?”

thoughts of vases and strawberry pastries flit across your mind

you start with half truths

“just missing my little brother”

“you love him a lot, don’t you,” yeosang smiles sweetly, “i can see it in the way you take care of yeoreum”

you can’t help the heat that slowly creeps up the back of your neck and to your ears, because it implies that he’s noticed all the times you’ve showered his little sister with the same love you give to juwon

it implies he’s noticed you

“what’s your fondest memory of juwon?” he asks when you nod

something within you thaws slightly at the fact that yeosang remembers your little brother’s name

you step closer to the edge of the balcony so that you can overlook the garden outside your room a little clearer, resting your hand on the railing as yeosang waits patiently

“we used to have this game we played. we had a lot of gardenia flowers growing around our courtyard and juwon loved cutting some to make me a mini bouquet,” you pause to shake your head with a chuckle, “it drove our mother nuts”

“doesn’t sound like it stopped him from continuing though, did it?” yeosang questions with mirth

“no, it didn’t,” your heart aches with fondness. “he would use a certain number of gardenias and make me guess what phrase containing the same number of letters he had in mind” 

it never failed to tug your mouth into a smile whenever juwon giggled at your attempts to guess the flower phrase, even when most times he would bound away whilst singing answers like y-o-u s-t-i-n-k or d-u-m-b d-u-m-b

yeosang supports himself on the railing with one hand as he nearly folds in on himself in laughter, and before you know it, you too are gasping for air and wiping away tears from your eyes

when you both calm down relatively enough, only intermittent chuckles leaving your lips, yeosang clears his throat and scratches his neck awkwardly

“i know it might not be much, but maybe we can go out into town tomorrow and it might take your mind off things? and we can bring yeoreum along if that makes you feel more comfortable, because you’ve probably spent more time alone with her than you have with me?”

you don’t admit it, but you’re already feeling a little better, so you decide to tease, “are you asking me out on a date right now, kang yeosang?”

“oh, well, we’d be doing things a little backwards since we’re already like, married…but, yes? maybe? is that okay?”

it’s yeosang’s turn to flush a deep red as his usually composed demeanor is reduced to stutters, but you don’t notice under the faint glow cast by the moon now reigning the sky

“yeah, that’s okay”

you and yeosang smile fondly as your little trio stroll through a nearby town the following morning, his younger sister skipping ahead to peer at the colourful trinkets being sold at the market stalls, and your own small squad of royal soldiers following behind at a respectful distance

it’s kind of endearing how yeosang points out item after item, asking whether you like it or whether you find it pretty, in a not-so-subtle attempt to learn about your preferences

you have to stop him from buying you something from every second stall you both pass, but you’re unable to convince him from purchasing a small wooden toy as a gift for juwon, insisting that you give it to your little brother the next time you see him

the more you actually interact and talk with yeosang, the harder you find it to associate him with the memory of the yeosang in your rejected letters

because the equation of the letters, the vase and the pastries just does not add up

as you two sit under the awning of a small shop, watching yeoreum play with the shopkeeper’s dog, you find yourself unable to hold back anymore

“why didn’t you reply to my letters?” you break the silence, trying to hide the hurt laced in your voice

yeosang looks at you with wide eyes as his mouth stutters open

and in the smallest voice you have ever heard him speak with, he says

“you wrote me letters?”

your eyebrows knit together as your eyes dart back and forth between his, searching for any hint of deception

“too many to count,” you confess, “until you sent a letter telling me to stop…”

“impossible. i never got your letters” 

your head recoils back as you try to make sense of his words, “but-”

“wait,” he interrupts

yeosang reaches into his robes, pulling out a small, wooden block, extending it out closer to you as he asks, “do you recognise this?”

upon closer inspection, you realise it’s a square seal stamp

it has the character ‘姜’ carved into it and you’ve seen it enough times to know it represents the kang family name - but the inscription that stylises the border is unfamiliar

“not the seal, no”

he swallows apprehensively, “i stamp all my letters with this to certify authenticity”

you let his words sink in as they throw you into a sandstorm of bewilderment

“but then-”

but then who wrote the letter?

and where did all your letters go?

the only people who would have known about them would be the royal couriers and…eunju

a memory flashes through your mind - the moment she handed you a letter with a smile

no, not a smile, you realise

a smirk

you are simultaneously overwhelmed with betrayal, guilt and apologeticness

yeosang doesn’t push you for a response, and you come to recognise that you are also grateful

“i’m sorry for doubting you,” you tell him

it’s nowhere close to the amount of things you want to confess, but it is a start, one that yeosang picks up on and understands immediately

“no, i’m sorry you felt the need to doubt me,” he offers. “that i didn’t make you feel loved enough”

“but i did, actually. the vase and the pastries, then our conversation last night…and even today”

he blushes a deep red as you list the things off with your fingers

“you weren’t meant to find out about the first two,” yeosang admits as he ducks his head shyly

then he suddenly perks up with a sudden thought

he ruffles inside his satchel that had been abandoned to one side, mumbling, “my sister said i did something to upset you…so i um, got you these” 

he turns around to reveal of bouquet of flowers, looking a little rough for wear after being hidden in his bag all morning, but his clumsy consideration only serves to makes your heart skip dangerously

“forgive me?” he asks cheekily, and you both giggle at the absurdity of his question because it should very well be the other way around

“if you insist,” you take the bouquet into your hands

and finally, you allow the chains around your heart to fall away, “i can’t say no to my husband, can i?”

yeosang lets out a little squeak as you look at the bouquet more clearly, counting the number of flowers

you turn to ask if he remembers the game you told him about, but the way yeosang suddenly finds the patch of dirt near his foot absolutely fascinating tells you everything that you need to know

eight flowers

eight letters

i l-o-v-e y-o-u

[theincantation-if]

☽ DEMO (TBA)

Those who never learn history are doomed to repeat it.

There is something wrong with your blood, the others sense it when they look at you. Your parents said it’s what makes you special, beloved. You wish it to be true. You are ten when you notice the change, the thing that courses in your veins, wishing to be released, but you don’t know how.

You are thirteen when it releases itself. Anguish, grief, rage. Power. It destroys everything around you, it strives to kill, and it does. It is that fateful day that lands you here, trapped and caged within the walls of the Gilded Palace. This is the place you believe you will die.

Until you don’t, you’re kept alive. Here, against your will. Trained and yielded to be a tool. In the next ten years of your life, you will become a prized captive under the King’s guard. Wallowing in hate, waiting for your time to come to an end. Then the dragons appear, the royal family is assassinated, a rebellion ensues, and all the problems are pointed towards you.

Can you prove your innocence? Is it even worth it to try?

The Incantation is rated 18+ for violence, death, abuse, explicit language, unhealthy relationships, morally questionable characters, suggestive content, and possibly more triggers pending.

☽ Play as a witch of your own making.

Customize your character.

Build your relationships with those around you.

Learn more about the power that plagues you.

Form yourself into a weapon of your choosing or become the monster they made you out to be.

Save the kingdom or doom it to eternity.

☽ Romance one of four love interests.

Evander Alazar. (he/him)

Evander is the crown prince of Elyssia. Often charming and elusive, Evander hides behind a mask of arrogance and indifference to get through courtly life. Yet, forced into a role he never wanted - Evander must quickly assume the role of monarchy to keep his kingdom safe. Will it be sink or swim for this young prince?

Trope: Forbidden Love. He shouldn't look at you, you are considered an enemy of the kingdom. He should order your death. So why is it, that when you look at him - his heart seems to stop beating?

Theodore/Theodora "Teddy" de Peyster. (he/him) or (she/her)

Teddy is the crown prince's sworn protector. Noble and steadfast, Teddy is everything the kingdom needs to survive. Born to the retired parent's of the King's guard, all Teddy's life has been is violence and warfare. Is it possible for this knight to rise to the challenge or will they fall on their sword?

Trope: Sworn off Love. The knight cannot afford any mistakes, no matter how small. They keep everyone at a distance, relationships lead to a mess and a mess is a big mistake. But when you smile - they feel a crack appear in their armor.

Maeryn Toussaint. (she/her)

Maeryn is a priestess, belonging to the Church of Estrellas. Frequently skittish and consistently pious, Maeryn has never set foot outside of her convent. That was until the rebellion, where her prophetic abilities could help turn the tide. Can she save the kingdom, or doom the world?

Trope: Love at First Sight. She has never had anyone look at her like she wasn't broken. It's gotten to the point where she believes it too. Yet, when your hand touches hers - she has never felt more put together.

Hartford Moss. (cis) or (non-binary)

Hartford is your best friend, or was at least. Long gone is the vibrant curiosity of childhood, the destruction of Hartford's home leaves nothing but grief in their eyes and regret in their heart. Until they see you again. Will you stay together this time or will fate rip you apart?

Trope: Friends to Lovers. No one has ever seen every piece of them and understood them; their soul is bare, yet people look and don't see. However, you have seen them all of them and never looked away - it makes their head spin.

[pomefioredove]

ok let's see

can I have a sugar cookie #16 with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle?

mwah ofc!

order #16, sugar with whipped cream, chocolate drizzle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ I could do worse

summary: an arranged marriage with someone who hates you... or, who he thinks you are tropes: royalty au (but not really), exes to lovers (but not really) characters: leona additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu

Okay, now you've really done it.

"You're... er, shorter than I expected," the royal tailor mutters. "Your measurements indicate height, but you..." he gives you another incredulous look. Like you're some stray cat they picked off the street.

...Which, well, isn't actually that wrong!

"I'm not that short," you mutter, though the palace guards that had dragged you in here certainly dwarfed you.

The tailor rolls his eyes. "Well, we'll make do. Only the best for Prince Leona,"

When Leona had pity-invited you to a royal wedding, you hadn't (you couldn't have) known it'd be your own.

Well... not exactly. Leona's, and...

What had the tailor said? A duke or duchess or... some other gaudy title that's surely not yours.

You hadn't even changed out of your tuna-stained scrubs from Ramshackle.

"Here, here... oh, these measurements are all wrong. You'll have to fire whoever is in charge of your wardrobe," the tailor tsks. "Not that it matters now. You must be excited- married at last!"

At last? You don't ask. "Uh, sure,"

"And the prince... well... he'll come to tolerate it,"

Oh, right. Leona. You hadn't seen him since he left you and your friends at the hotel. Does he know that he's marrying you in a few minutes? Does he know that he's getting married at all?

"...I'm sure he will,"

The tailor pins some sash over your shoulder and takes a step back. "Ah, here, perfect! Just needed a few tweaks... maybe a different pair of shoes, and-"

The doors on the other side of the room slam against the walls, sending flocks of guards, maids, cooks, florists, bakers, designers, and caterers into a flurry.

"ALRIGHT, everyone OUT!"

You're the only one unaffected. Has no one here heard Leona shout?

He stomps around the room, terrorizing the attendants. "Throw those damn flowers out," he demands. "And that cake! There's not gonna be a wedding, for the last damn time, I am NOT marrying that uptight, snobby, egotistical royal PAIN IN MY- oh, it's you."

He's looking at you now, his tone steady as if he hadn't just been snarling and stalking the wait staff like a wild animal. "What're you doing here?"

You look down at the million-thaumark outfit. "Marrying you, I guess,"

Leona makes a face. It's not a nice one.

"I'd say my brother has a funny sense of humor, but he doesn't have one at all, so I'm gonna guess you got lost,"

"Please don't tell Ace,"

He smirks, the last of the maids scampering out of the room. "Yeah, yeah. My lips are sealed,"

Leona's hands find your shoulders, helping you out of the elegant wedding arrangement, careful not to welt or wound the fabric. "How'd you end up here, anyway?"

"Was waiting for you with the others," you sigh. "Grim smelled cake and ran off. I went after him, and someone thought..."

"Of all the people," he smirks, undoing the ribbon around your waist with a deceivingly delicate touch. "Well, now I feel like a jackass. If I'd know it was you and not my dearly ex-betrothed, I wouldn't have made such a big deal out of it."

You raise an eyebrow. "Huh?"

Leona's hands close around your wrists, sliding off the beaded bracelets that had been put there by a maid with a much colder touch.

"I'm just saying," he says. "I could do worse."

"...Gee, thanks,"

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," he smiles, his hands resting on your forearms. His touch is warm.

"...But I guess you really dodged a bullet, huh?" he steps away and starts walking to the door. "Who'd wanna be married to a jerk like me?"

Your eyes widen and you follow, fumbling over your words AND the train of your wedding outfit. "I didn't say I wouldn't marry you," you say. "I'm wearing all this, aren't I?"

Leona raises an eyebrow, and then smiles. "...Hm. Y'know, I'm almost tempted to say the wedding's back on and hold you to that.

...But I think I'll save that for another day."

[sansaorgana]

— STILL WATERS RUN DEEP

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — He's a psychotic killing machine and you're a shy and innocent lady. You have nothing in common except for the fact your bloodlines have been manipulated for centuries to create a match. And you seem to be destined to be together.

REQUEST — (1) // (2) // (3)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I don't write children!Readers unless it's for the retrospections and memories. That's why I combined all these requests into one fic. Some parts of the requests didn't make it but I felt like it was already getting long 🙈 I included the trope of Feyd and Reader being destined to be together – some sort of Soulmates AU, I guess? ✨

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood, spiders, mentions of Baron Harkonnen abusing Feyd, SMUT, fingering, oral, hints of innocence kink, The Harpies being a bit non-consensual

WORD COUNT — 7,500

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

STILL WATERS RUN DEEP

Giedi Prime was surely a scary and intimidating place for a twelve years old girl. The lack of colour and friendly faces made you shiver and anxiously cling to your father’s hand. You couldn’t understand why he had insisted on you accompanying him on this official state visit for the meeting with Baron Harkonnen. He would never want to take you with him to much more pleasant places. You were too young to understand the hidden agenda, the Bene Gesserit scheming – whose plans had been destroyed by Lady Jessica giving birth to a son instead of a daughter. They needed a new match for the young na-baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, The Baron’s nephew. After years of searching and studying many possibilities, they had decided to create a union between your House and The Harkonnens. Your father was more than happy – it was an honour to bond with such a powerful family. You were from one of the planets of a lesser importance. That was the reason for The Baron’s distrust towards the plan. He would rather see his nephew marrying a great lady, perhaps even an Imperial Princess.

While he talked to your father, you were left alone with no one but one guard in an empty room. You were sitting on a black couch and looking with awe at the portraits on the walls. All men looked the same on them – big, bald, hairless and scary. They fascinated you as much as they intimidated you.

After a while, the doors leading to the corridor opened and you startled at the sight of a boy more-less your age entering confidently with a contemptuous look upon his face. He looked like all The Harkonnens – sickly and scary. He was wearing clothes you had only seen on gladiators and warriors before but it looked disturbing on a body so skinny and small, even though he was tall for his age. There was a splash of blood upon his face and it made you gasp and take a step back. He smirked at you.

“So, that’s you? Disappointing,” he commented harshly as you swallowed thickly.

“What are you talking about? Who are you?” You looked nervously at the guard but he remained stoic.

“I’m Feyd,” he introduced himself. “My training has been interrupted and I’ve been told to meet you for whatever reason. Haven’t expected such a scared, little bunny,” he sneered and you spotted his teeth were black. They didn’t look rotten, though.

“What happened to your teeth?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“My Uncle made the medics paint them black to intimidate my enemies,” he answered, proudly.

“What kind of enemies might a twelve year old have?” You asked, surprised.

You had no enemies. Your life was of a typical spoiled young lady – full of mother’s kisses, father’s embraces, candies, ponies and maids braiding your hair in the evening while telling you tales of handsome and brave prince charmings. You couldn't imagine that it was different for other people.

“You’re stupid,” Feyd pointed out and you shut your mouth, feeling hurt at his words as tears pricked your eyes. He approached you and you took a step back, scared of him. “Don’t cry,” he tilted his head at the sight of your wet eyes. “Has no one ever told you that you were stupid?” Now it was his time to be surprised and you shook your head. “Do you want to see something?” He proposed as his eyes sparkled.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, genuinely.

“I will protect you,” he offered his pale hand and you looked at it with fear in your eyes.

“I am scared of you,” you raised your eyes to lay them on his face again while you explained.

“Good,” he nodded with a chuckle. “But I’d get in trouble if something happened to you. You are the daughter of my uncle’s guest. Come,” he encouraged.

Your status gave you courage as your curiosity only fueled your desire to actually follow him. Just like the portraits on these walls – he was as intimidating as fascinating to you. Perhaps because you had never before met such a boy.

You took his cold hand and a shiver went down your spine. For a short while, you thought you would faint as an odd feeling filled your small body. A familiar warmth that you only felt when you were back home, in your bed, feeling safe and sound with the nanny or your mother caressing your head to help you sleep. Like he was home. But he couldn’t be. You had never met him and he was scary. 

“Have you felt that, too?” You gasped.

“No,” Feyd lied. “Come,” he dragged you behind him and the guard opened the doors in front of you.

Feyd took you down the corridor and led you downstairs to some sort of dungeons beneath the fortress. You were starting to have a bad feeling about it but something deep inside you made you trust that odd boy. Without understanding it yet, you were starting to realise he was the one who had been meant for you from the day you were born. There was some connection between your bloodlines that was drawing you towards each other.

You found yourself in an old, dark and damp room. It smelt of something rotten and it was full of spiderwebs.

“What is this place? It’s disgusting,” you pointed out as you winced. Feyd let go of your hand and sneered at you.

“Life is unpleasant. The sooner you learn that, the better,” he pointed out and suddenly, he reached for a short knife by his waist you had not noticed before. You yelped at the sight, convinced he had only dragged you there to kill you.

“Don’t be silly, I won’t hurt you,” he rolled his eyes and you nodded, unsurely. “Do you want to see me kill something?” He smirked playfully at you.

It felt wrong and you felt the anxiety rising in your abdomen when you realised you’d get in trouble for that. On the other hand, you did want to see him kill something. It was curiosity mixed with excitement to witness something forbidden and something you had been sheltered from.

“Yes,” you nodded, eagerly. He was a little surprised at your reaction but he only smiled.

Feyd beckoned you over by waving his hand and you followed him, quietly. Then you gasped and covered your mouth as you gagged out of disgust at the sight of a big, fat spider in the corner of the room. It was huge – nearly as big as you were. But it was also fat and slow. The legs were long and thin, furry black sticks.

“I found it a few days ago,” Feyd told you as he looked at your disgusted face. “Gross, isn’t she?”

You nodded.

“She reminds me of my uncle,” Feyd explained with hatred in his voice. “Do you see those small spiders on the ground?” He asked and you looked down. It was full of smaller spiders but they were all laying there dead. “She feeds off of her own children.”

You took a step back, utterly disgusted and sick. Feyd snorted at you and turned his back on you to gut the big, black spider. You watched with terror how much satisfaction it was giving him. He struck the monstrosity so many times that you lost count. He kept striking when it was already laying there dead.

“That’s enough,” you whispered and Feyd froze before turning around to face you. There was pure murder in his eyes and when he walked towards you with a knife in his hand, you were sure he would kill you now, too.

You took a deep breath in and closed your eyes, expecting the worst. But when you felt his breath on your face, you heard him hiding the knife away.

“Stupid little bunny,” he told you and you opened your eyes, hesitantly. He was staring at you as if he was studying your face.

The door opened suddenly and a few guards entered, sighing out of relief. Your father was standing behind them, scared. Baron Harkonnen was there as well, floating ominously.

“There you are!” He raised his voice and you spotted that all Feyd’s confidence was gone in a second. The boy looked down and blushed. “I’ve told you to behave. Why are you scaring Lady (Y/N)?!”

You turned around to face The Baron, hiding his nephew’s from his sight with your small body.

“He did not scare me, my Lord,” you assured with a slight bow of your head. “I wanted Feyd-Rautha to show me around,” you lied to protect him.

You had a feeling his uncle would punish him and he looked like a man you would never want a punishment from.

“She’s naive,” your father tried to save the situation. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he reminded you and grabbed you by your wrist to pull you closer to him. “Forgive my daughter, my Lord Baron.”

“She is forgiven,” the big man smirked viciously before lying his eyes on his nephew. “The boy, however, is not.”

You wanted to protest but your father gave you a stern look and announced it was time for you to leave now. So, you obeyed and walked away, following the guard leading you out of the corridor. But you kept looking behind, trying to see Feyd-Rautha for the last time.

“Will I see him again?” You asked your father, looking up.

“Who?”

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” you explained and your father sighed as he looked down at you.

“You will in eight years,” he announced. “You will become his wife.”

Those eight years you had not wasted a day, practising for your new role every day. Learning all about The Harkonnens; their culture, their history, their customs and war strategies. You knew that their nobility would not give you an easy time for being a Lady of the lesser house. You wanted to prove your worth with knowledge.

Your wisdom was your only weapon because you lacked confidence nor experience in nearly anything. Sheltered your whole life, surrounded by books and teachers, you were shy and innocent. The spider incident on Giedi Prime still remained your only sin – that no one except your husband-to-be possessed the knowledge of.

You had not been in touch with him at all but the stories had reached you about his nature and his victories in the gladiator arena. You believed them all because your short encounter had been enough to give you an idea about what kind of man he would become. You had never protested whenever your marriage was mentioned but you felt anxious. You didn’t belong on Giedi Prime, you didn’t fit in the world of death and violence.

Tested by Gom Jabbar, you nearly failed the test. The scary Reverend Mother gave your mother a look of disapproval. On the very next day you were shipped to Giedi Prime for your wedding, though. You had survived the trial and only that mattered – the long-planned scheming couldn’t be sabotaged.

On the day of your arrival, you were led with your parents to a room you had remembered from your last visit. There was the same black couch and the same portraits on the wall – only now there was one more than before. The last one in line, of a young man with handsome facial features, signed with your betrothed’s name. You opened your mouth slightly as you kept staring at it. He was a young and handsome na-baron; a strong warrior surrounded by men and women who admired him. You could only imagine how inconvenient a marriage had to be for him. Especially to an uninteresting and unimportant woman like you.

The doors opened and you turned around to see him in real life as he entered the room in black gladiator gear. He looked better than in the portrait – raw and magnetic, dangerous. Your parents stiffened at the sight of him and they both bowed their heads.

“Lord Na-Baron,” your father greeted him. “We have delivered our daughter to you, according to the agreement,” he explained. “We have hoped to be greeted by your uncle The Baron.”

“He’s busy,” Feyd interrupted your father in a low and raspy voice that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes were only fixated on you – curious and mocking. You bowed down slightly as well, not wanting to disrespect him.

“Y-yes, of course, my Lord…” your father took a step back.

“You’re grown now,” Feyd-Rautha stood in front of you with a smirk and you took a deep, shaky breath in.

“So are you, my Lord Na-Baron,” you nodded.

“She hasn’t changed a bit,” Feyd turned around to give your father a contemptuous look. “A timid little bunny. But it’s no surprise since she’s been raised by a coward and bootlicker like you.”

“My daughter is of many qualities, my Lord, I can assure you…” your father panicked.

“A wife only needs one quality,” Feyd sneered at him as your blood ran cold at his words. “Show them to their rooms,” he told the guards and left the room.

“I can’t believe you’ve made deals with these people,” your mother snapped angrily at your father who was standing there with his head kept low, ashamed.

But it was not like he had any saying in this. It was the plan of the Bene Gesserit. You were nothing but pawns in it. You tried to remember that Feyd-Rautha was a pawn, too.

After the scary and bloody wedding party, you were taken to your husband’s bedroom where you were supposed to be prepared for the wedding night. However, it was not the maids waiting for you there. Three bald Harkonnen women were sitting on your husband’s bed and smirking at you, showing off their sharp teeth. They were dressed in black leather and clinging to each other as if they were one body instead of three.

“We will prepare her for the Master,” one of them told the servants who had taken you there. You looked at them with panic and they only looked back with guilt and compassion before walking out as quickly as possible, leaving you alone with the scary snake-like creatures.

They were circling around you, sniffing you and chuckling contemptuously. You didn’t understand anything but you tried to bravely keep still and endure. Then, one of them approached you and licked a fat stripe across your cheek. Your eyes widened in terror.

“Oh-so-innocent,” she commented. “Have you ever pleased a man?” She asked.

You were terrified and embarrassed, you didn’t know what to do.

“N-no, my Lady,” you stuttered and nodded your head, unsure how to address her.

They all found it amusing as they laughed.

“My Lady, she calls me. I might like this one,” the woman caressed your hair with some sort of perverted delicacy that made you feel even more scared. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your hands turned cold and sweaty. “I’m not a lady, na-baroness. I am your husband’s whore,” she informed you and you nodded again, hesitantly. “We are his favourite pets. You see… Our Master likes perversion,” her hands landed on your hips as she pulled you closer to her body. “We will teach you how to please him and how to take him.”

“He’s a lot to take,” another woman stood behind you and grabbed your breasts from behind.

“W-won’t he mind, my husband?” You swallowed thickly.

“Not at all,” the third one giggled. “He always shares his toys.”

“Not this one,” the doors opened as Feyd-Rautha entered the room. He glanced at the women angrily and they immediately let go of you and moved away. “She is not a toy, she is your na-baroness. What are you doing here?” He snapped. “Have I not forbidden you from entering this room from now on?”

“Oh, Master…” one of them approached him to put her arms around his neck but he pushed her away.

“Get out,” he hissed and they ran away.

When the doors closed behind them, Feyd looked at you and sighed before approaching you and caressing your cheek.

“You alright, wife?” He asked.

“Y-yes, thank you,” you nodded and flinched at the feeling of his cold fingers brushing your cheek. An odd and out-of-place warmth started to fill you like all those years ago. It made him startled, too, and eventually he took a step back.

“You must be exhausted,” he only said as he looked away, awkwardly. “We can perform our duties in the morning.”

“Th-thank you,” you nodded. “I’ll go take a shower now…”

Feyd pointed at the doors leading to the bathroom and that was all for that night. When you came back to his bedroom, he was already gone. You went to sleep without him, confused by his behaviour.

Baron Harkonnen watched carefully with his own eyes and through the eyes of his servants. He observed and he listened – nothing could ever escape him. But the new na-baroness was as easy to read as a book. When she joined him and Count Rabban by the breakfast table, she didn’t wince while sitting, which was an obvious sign she had not been claimed by Feyd the previous night. The Baron smirked when the new na-baroness began to eat the meal, keeping her timid gaze down, terrified of her surroundings.

If Feyd-Rautha refused to be her friend, The Baron would surely find her a purpose. She would be an easy tool to keep Feyd in place. A silent, obedient shadow following her husband everywhere. A perfect spy.

“Na-Baroness,” he addressed her and she flinched before looking up, scared. “I would like you to join the council after the meal. Your husband rarely takes part in them since he is too busy training but now you are an extension of him,” The Baron forced a smile and she nodded. “I’ve been told by your father you are well-trained in Harkonnen history and customs.”

“Y-yes, my Lord,” she bowed her head.

“I know that Feyd-Rautha is not an easy man to be around,” The Baron continued as Rabban raised his head, curious about his uncle’s scheming plan. “He’s been like this ever since he was a child. I’ve been trying to temper him.”

“I remember,” the young woman whispered.

“You can tell me about anything that is worrying you,” The Baron assured her and she smiled genuinely. “Has he hurt you?” He squinted his eyes, knowing the answer already but wanting to test her honesty.

“No, my Lord. Feyd-Rautha did not spend the night with me at all,” she answered and he nodded as Rabban sneered.

“You have to forgive him, my Lady. He prefers other… forms of entertainment,” The Baron explained softly.

“I believe I have met them, my Baron,” the woman looked down.

“Most likely, yes. They don’t like to share him,” The Baron chuckled.

“But the heir…”

“Do not worry about the heir. You are both still young, you have time. There is no need to hurry anything. Take your time to adjust on Giedi Prime first,” The Baron tried to calm her down and she looked up with so much gratitude in her eyes that he was sure he had succeeded. She was his agent now.

To your own surprise, you found new friends in your husband’s family – his uncle and brother – but not him. Feyd-Rautha was mostly avoiding you and a few attempts to claim you were ending in a fiasco. You couldn’t understand why he would pull away suddenly and leave you without a word or fail to get hard enough no matter how long his touch lingered upon your body. It made you feel as if you were lacking, because you knew for sure he had no problems of this sort with his concubines. They often bragged to you about it. They had offered to help you to excite him and you nearly agreed to that but Feyd hated to see you around them. He snapped whenever he caught you talking to them or them approaching you.

He hated to see you around his uncle and brother, too. He had been warning you about them but it felt cruel to do so. Did he want you to not have any companionship at all? To be sad and lonely and miserable all your days?

You weren’t appreciated in marriage but you were appreciated as a part of this family – representing the na-baronship during the council meetings with your decisions and advice. The Baron seemed to be pleased with you and Count Rabban had stopped to make fun of you over time. Still waters run deep, The Baron would often say about you as your cheeks heated up and eyes sparkled. Perhaps all the years of studying the customs and tradition of this House would not be useful in your marriage but they seemed to be useful when it came to your political presence.

It still bothered you that Feyd-Rautha was acting so weirdly towards you. You remembered the boy he had been eight years earlier. You had never feared this union because you had been sure there was some sort of bond now between you two, some sort of connection. Perhaps you had been wrong.

It was right after one of Feyd’s failed attempts to claim you, when he left you half-naked in bed with tears pricking your eyes. He walked away and most likely went to his concubines as you fixed yourself and left the room, too, not wanting to remain in the chambers filled with the smell of embarrassment and humiliation anymore. You nearly crashed with your brother-in-law walking down the corridor.

“My Lady,” Rabban nodded at you. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yes,” you answered, trying not to show your nervousness. There was no need for him to know the details about the problems your marriage was facing.

“I was just looking for you,” he confessed and you raised an eyebrow at him. “Tomorrow, my uncle wants me to lead the council meeting only for the most important members of the court. It’s about a matter of a very high importance and it’s confidential,” he whispered. “I hoped you would join me. Without my uncle there, I will be the only one representing our family.”

“But tomorrow Feyd has his fight. I am expected to be in the stands,” you looked up at him.

“Uncle will be there. You are more needed here, (Y/N),” Rabban tried to convince you. You could see his hands were a little shaky – he was stressed about the responsibility placed upon his shoulders by his uncle. “It’s not like Feyd will even notice your absence,” he added.

You bit on your lower lip. He was right.

“Alright, I’ll join you in the council,” you nodded your head. “Our state affairs are much more important than some fixed gladiator fight anyway.”

The servants’ slim fingers were applying the black paint upon Feyd-Rautha’s body as he observed his three harpies from the corner of his eye. They were giggling between each other and some of the words reached his sensitive ears.

“...naive…”

“Silly little thing.”

“...taste her heart…”

“What are you talking about, pets?” Feyd turned around to face them as he asked and they went silent.

“Nothing important, Master,” the bravest of them all answered eventually.

“I have a feeling you’re whispering about my wife,” Feyd pointed out.

“As I said, nothing important,” she chuckled and the rest giggled. Feyd squinted his eyes and approached them with a clenched jaw and an angry expression on his face. When he grabbed her by the chin, they stopped laughing.

“You are forbidden to even think of her,” he hissed out. “You’re not worthy of that.”

“M-Master…” She trembled as she pleaded for his softness. Her companions hid behind her and observed him carefully. “She doesn’t even know how to please you, Master.”

Feyd’s hand dropped down and the squeeze tightened around the woman’s neck. He watched her struggle to catch a breath for some time as he observed with a smirk. Eventually, he let go of her.

“My wife belongs to a different realm than you,” he stated. “She is not to be discussed, looked at, thought of… Am I understood?”

“Y-yes, Master,” they all nodded, obediently.

“Good,” he smiled and went back to the servant girls.

“You might be interested in the gossip, though, na-baron,” one of the concubines whispered. “We are your eyes and ears…”

Feyd pretended not to be intrigued although he was. He didn’t react, hoping she would say more. And so she did.

“Your uncle keeps the young na-baroness close. The rumour has it he wants to make her one of his agents. And she is slowly taking your place during the councils. Count Rabban is his Plan B if you fail. Then she will be given to him.”

“I’m sure Rabban won’t have a problem with fucking her,” the bravest concubine added as if his punishment had not worked at all. Because it didn’t. She loved his punishments. “Her innocence will only make him more eager. He will tear her apart.”

“Shut up!” Feyd growled, making the servant girls take a few steps back as he turned around to face the girl with a big mouth. “Let me remind you that I don’t need your tongue to fuck you,” he sneered. “Your sisters are better at using their tongues than you anyway.”

The woman looked down and he was informed that he was about to enter the arena in five minutes so he went back to putting the gear on, furiously clutching to his blades. He was grateful to his concubine for fueling his anger so much – he wanted to make good use of it in the arena.

But when he approached the tower with his uncle’s balcony to bow down, he spotted that his wife was not there. Suddenly, the fight made no sense to him at all. What was the point of putting on a show, what was the point of killing with grace when she could not watch?

He had been waiting eight years for her to come back. The timid little bunny girl that made him feel so warm inside. That made him feel like home. Nothing had ever made him feel this way. They were destined for each other. Now, when she was by his side, he had no idea what to do. He had been training his body for years to impress her and be able to protect her but nothing was working out the way he had planned. She was slipping away.

She was slipping away because of his uncle’s scheming and because Feyd-Rautha himself had no idea how to approach a creature so pure and innocent as this woman. If anything in this world was still able to save his rotten soul, it was her. But maybe he had been naive to think so. He was beyond saving.

He didn’t give the audience a show on that day. The fights were quick and swift. No playing with his victims, no tormenting. Just a kill after kill to finish it as fast as possible. And no bowing down at the end. He just walked out of the arena, still clutching his fists on the blood-dripping blades. He walked past the guards and servants, not wanting to change or bathe – he wanted one thing only. To find his wife.

The sounds of the cheering audience were becoming more and more quiet. They waited for him to walk back and bow down, raising his knife in the sign of victory. He had no plans in doing so. He would not kneel in front of his uncle. Not when his wife was not beside him, because it was her he had been kneeling for. Not Baron Harkonnen.

The council was over now but you stayed inside the conference room with Count Rabban to discuss what had been decided and what to tell his uncle. You were staring at the maps of Arrakis and wondering whether the Emperor’s assurances of help were trustworthy.

“What I’m saying is… If he is so willing to get rid of The Atreides just because he considers them to be dangerous… He might do the same to us one day. We are a real danger to him way more than any Atreides is,” you pointed out.

“Especially now when we have knowledge that can turn other leaders against him and…” Rabban’s words were interrupted by the heavy black doors opening rapidly. You flinched and instinctively hid behind your brother-in-law’s broad shoulders.

It was Feyd-Rautha himself walking inside with an angry look on his face. Wearing his gladiator gear stained with fresh blood and still wielding two bloody swords. He looked ferocious as his cold eyes searched for you. When he spotted you behind his brother, his jaw clenched and so did his fists on the handles of the blades.

“What is going on here?” He barked as you and Rabban looked at each other, questioningly.

“Husband,” you tried to be brave as you took a step ahead to approach him very carefully. “I see you’re finished now. I assume you’ve won.”

“(Y/N), wait,” Rabban grabbed your sleeve to keep you in place. He didn’t want you near Feyd in such a state. But Feyd didn’t like his brother’s gesture.

“Let her go, brother,” he snapped. “She is my wife and she will approach me if she wishes. I would never lay my hand on her,” he drawled through gritted teeth.

You felt Rabban’s fingers letting go of the fabric of your dress and you walked up to Feyd. Something inside you was telling you that he needed you at that moment. Perhaps that was the intuition of a wife.

“Oh, we all know that you don’t lay your hand on her at all, brother,” Rabban snorted at him.

You watched in terror how your husband’s face became even more angry than before. He yelled and attacked his brother with all the burning wrath he had before been trying to stop from outbursting with.

“No! Stop! Please,” you pleaded as they fought and struggled one against another. Rabban took out his own blade now, too, and they ended up wrestling on the floor like two children. “That is enough, please!” You cried out.

Your tears brought attention to only one of them – your husband. He was distracted by them and ended up with his brother’s blade pointed at his face. You froze and Rabban laughed with contempt.

“Such a great warrior you are, my brother. Trained day and night for years, got your little arena shows… And now you got distracted by a woman,” he pointed out.

“That woman is my wife,” Feyd drawled.

You looked around in panic but the guards stood there petrified. They were afraid to attack any of the brothers. Usually shy and timid, you felt an odd outburst of courage as you took a blade from the guard standing nearby. He did not protest but only watched in terror as you approached the brothers and pointed the blade at Count Rabban himself.

“Don’t be stupid,” he laughed at you.

“Let my husband go,” your voice shivered but you managed to stand your ground.

“Or what?” Rabban sneered. “We both know you won’t strike me.”

In that very moment Feyd kicked him and got out of the direction of his brother’s blade. He ended up on top with his own knife pointed at Rabban. A smirk on his face revealed that he had never been defeated even for a second, he was only toying with his brother… and with you, too.

“She might not but I will,” Feyd hissed at his brother. “My marriage is none of your business, brother. And you stay away from my wife.”

“I am only representing you during the councils,” you tried to explain and Feyd looked up at you with his brow furrowed. “Your uncle told me I should because you rarely take place in them.”

“He’s scheming, can’t you see? Trying to turn us against each other. Thought you were smarter than this,” his anger was directed at you now.

He let go of Rabban and stood up to walk out of the room. You swallowed thickly and lowered your blade, scared of your brother-in-law’s reaction now when you were left alone with him after threatening him.

“Why did you take his side?” He only asked as you gave the blade back to the guard. “He doesn’t treat you any good. He never will.”

“He is my husband,” you explained quietly, avoiding his curious gaze.

“By name only. Your marriage is not even consummated.”

“Feyd was right,” you looked up. “Our marriage is none of your business, brother,” you emphasised who he was to you now before walking out to follow Feyd. It was easy because he left a trail of sand and blood from the arena behind him.

He went to your chambers so you took a deep breath in and pushed the doors open to face him in all his wrath and anger. He was struggling to get out of his gear with shaky hands as he shot you a furious glance over his shoulder.

“Should I call for the servants?” You asked.

“No,” he snapped and you sighed before approaching him and helping him yourself. At first he tried to shake you off but you were stubborn so he gave up and allowed your gentle fingertips to work on the pieces of clothing. “How do you even know how to do that?” He asked. “Did Rabban show you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear husband. I’ve read dozens of books about The Harkonnen art of warfare. I know your gears by heart. And Rabban is no gladiator,” you explained.

“Dozens of books about the art of warfare and The Harkonnens and yet it slipped your mind what masters of manipulation we can be?” Feyd barked at you and you chuckled. He didn’t find it amusing as he looked you up and down with contempt so you leaned in and placed a kiss upon his soft lips while your hands cupped his face. He was visibly taken aback by that, he didn’t even close his eyes for the kiss and he continued to observe you as if you would attack him any second.

“I have studied everything like a good pupil I was,” you whispered after breaking the kiss. Your hands kept caressing his cheeks in a soothing manner. “And now I’m one of The Baron’s closest people. I’m your inside man, Feyd-Rautha,” you smiled gently and his eyes sparkled at the realisation.

“But… why?” He only asked, confused.

“What do you mean why?” You bit on your lower lip.

“I’ve been treating you… coldly,” he admitted.

“Well, that is another matter. But that is between you and me. The marriage is between a husband and a wife. Not between them and his uncle or brother,” you explained. “I still remember that big fat spider. I’ve known ever since I was twelve years old that the thing you crave the most is to gut your uncle like you did to that monstrosity in the dungeons. And as your wife… I will do everything I can to help you,” you assured him.

But Feyd was not convinced. He pushed you away although he did it way gentler than you’d expect. He walked away from you as he stepped out of the pile of clothes by his feet. He was wearing nothing but underwear now and you watched how his muscular body glistened with sweat after the fight. 

“You can be a double agent, wife. I don’t trust you,” he confessed.

“You have no reasons to,” you nodded. “Except for the fact we have fate and destiny bonding us. Am I the only one feeling this when we touch?” Your voice lowered as uncertainty began to grow inside of you. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you were the only one feeling that warmth indeed.

“No,” Feyd admitted, nearly inaudibly. “Why do you think I can’t fuck you?” He approached you again and you gasped at how close he chose to stand.

“Because you find me unattractive? Or boring perhaps,” you shrugged your arms. “I don’t care about that. Our bond is stronger than physical attraction.”

“I can’t fuck you because that feeling is overwhelming me and I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt like that. You’re too pure for me,” he confessed, visibly uncomfortable with his own words as he looked away.

You were stunned for a moment.

“You’re an idiot, Feyd-Rautha,” you laughed eventually and he blushed. “I am not pure. I am flesh and blood just like you,” you told him. “For example now… When you’re standing in front of me… like this,” you allowed your hand to wander all over his hard muscles. “You’re starting a fire that will be difficult to put out later,” you looked up to meet his gaze. “Every time you start and don’t finish, you leave me in torment,” you confessed. “And nothing helps,” you pouted. “I writhe and I roll around and grow more and more bitter knowing that you’re giving your whores what you’re supposed to give me.”

He was nearly paralyzed in a way he was staring at you. You grabbed his hand and pulled your dress up to press his hand to your womanhood. You were soaking through your underwear now and he blinked a few times as his gaze intensified.

“I will never forgive myself if I break you,” Feyd took his hand away despite your protests.

“You’re breaking me by refusing to touch me,” you whined.

“Touch yourself,” he said suddenly as his eyes sparkled and you were left speechless. “Touch yourself for me. I will help you. I’ll make it feel good,” he proposed.

Out of desperation, you decided this was better than nothing – at least for now – so you agreed. As fast as possible, you got rid of your dress and remained in nothing but your sheer underdress. You laid on the bed and watched him approach you. Feyd laid next to you, observing you carefully. His eyes were admiring every curve of your body and every inch of your skin. Without waiting for his command, you pulled the underdress up and took off your underwear to toss the panties aside and start playing with your wet folds. It was embarrassing to see him watch but it also excited you in some twisted way. You toyed with your clit, moaning softly, showing him what kind of pleasure you could bring to yourself – what kind of pleasure you had to bring to yourself since he refused to do so.

“Easy, slow down,” Feyd breathed out and placed his rough hand on your waist. He was caressing you and joined your lips together in a sloppy kiss. His free hand undid the ribbon on the top of your underdress to free your breasts. They shivered under the touch of his big hand as he played with your nipples and buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your sweet scent and sucking on the sensitive skin below your ear.

You shut your eyes close, trying to focus on the pleasure as your fingers rubbed on your sensitive swollen clit but it was not enough. It never was.

“I can’t…” You admitted your defeat as you tried to catch a breath.

“Yes, you can,” Feyd whispered into your ear in that low, raspy voice of his that sent shivers down your body and straight to your core. “What’s stopping you?”

“It’s just… I don’t know…” You didn’t know how to find the right words. “It’s not enough,” you admitted. “It’s not you.”

“Let me, then,” he raised himself to look into your eyes as his hand moved your hand away and his fingers replaced yours on your exposed clit. You gasped at the feeling of his fingertips drawing circles and teasing your entrance. 

You pressed your hands to his chest and then you moved them lower to explore the hard muscles of his abs. To feel them underneath your fingers was enough to make your back arch needily, exposing even more of your hungry pussy. Feyd smirked at that and buried his fingers deep inside as you gasped out of pain but it was quickly replaced with pleasure.

His free hand grabbed your chin gently and when you looked up, batting your eyelashes and opening your lips slightly, he put his fingers inside of your mouth and you grabbed his wrist to hold on to it as you sucked and moaned. His other hand was bringing you close to your release as his movements were fast and rough and his thumb circled your clit.

You cried out but his fingers muffled it so you ended up choking on the sound escaping your lips as you came writhing under him with sweaty forehead and single hair strands sticking to your face, your whole body set on fire, trying to catch a breath. Feyd swallowed thickly as his eyes sparkled.

You yelped as he smacked your sensitive pussy right after pulling his fingers out of it and licking them clean, looking deep into your eyes. You were speechless as your mind was left thoughtless.

You could only watch him lower himself and open your thighs even further with his strong arms as he buried his face between your legs to lap on your juices. You were sensitive so it burned in the beginning but the uncomfortable feeling submerged into pleasure once again. Feyd’s tongue was cleaning your folds thoroughly and penetrating you while you threw your head back as you laid your hands on the back of his neck, keeping him close. But this time he didn’t let you cum so easily.

When you were about to reach the peak again, he moved his head away and the next thing you saw was his face right in front of yours, his chin dripping with your wetness and his cold eyes filled with so much fire that you felt like a prey trapped by a big predator.

But you loved that feeling. You loved to feel small and tiny under him, trapped, vulnerable. You dug your nails into his biceps and looked down. He had already tossed his underwear aside and his cock was hard now, swollen and aching for you, you could see it twitching and leaking black precum. He looked heavy and big and you wanted him badly to claim you and violate you to the point no other man would ever even think of touching you after him.

You had never made him that hard. You had never gone so far before. You were sure you’d succeed now.

“Take me, claim me, make me yours,” you pleaded. “Please, I want more of you.”

Feyd shut you up with a kiss and a strong, stinging pain of his hard cock finally penetrating you. Your eyes widened as you whined. He intertwined your fingers together and held you through the process of adjustment to his size. You were the first one to impatiently rock your hips to show him you wanted him to move. So he did, slowly and carefully. He winced from his attempts to keep himself in control and you let go of his hands to pull him closer by his shoulders and deepen the kiss.

You moaned softly and helped him to fuck you by you rocking your hips against him as your legs wrapped around his waist. You both had been waiting so long for this moment of unity that it didn’t take long for you two to reach your highs and the familiar feeling of warmth filled you whole. You didn’t remember your own name, the only thing you knew was that you were home and the man above you was destined for you; you were born to be his wife and he was born to be your husband. The thousands of years of manipulation of the bloodlines had led you to this moment and nothing could tear you apart now. No amount of rumours, scheming or the disability to show emotions.

You were catching your breath as Feyd was slowly coming back from his high above you, panting heavily and looking at your face with hazy eyes.

“You belong to me,” he leaned in to kiss your lips again. “You always have.”

“No matter what happens, we are one,” you agreed with a nod and intertwined your fingers with him as you held his hand. “Now, when that is settled, we shall focus on our most important task.”

“And that is?”

“Killing the fat spider in his nest,” you answered.

“Thankfully, we have experience,” Feyd teased before placing yet another soft kiss upon your parted lips.

MASTERLIST

[quarterlifekitty]

more medieval fantasy au time! reader whose life sucks and wont be missed by anyone in the present life suddenly finds herself back in time after blacking out and being mistaken for the assassin who was given orders to kill any of the cod boys (or price becos he's my hubby). cod boys/price decides to keep her under their watch closely in case she makes any more attempts to kill them. love myself some slowburn enemy to lover shite <3

Fun fact about me. I enjoy that shite, played out isekai manga/manwha trope where a girl gets reborn into the story of her favorite dating simulator except she’s reborn as the villainess and has to try to use her knowledge of the game to change the story and avoid dying to the heroine or one of her many devoted love interests. But often her sudden change in personality piques the interest of one of those love interests…. Here’s a very dark hentai with a somewhat similar plot to this trope, if you’re interested! Ghost coded, imo. Noncon warning.

Anyways

Prince!Gaz doesn’t believe you when you say you weren’t trying to kill him, but he does believe you when you say it isn’t your fault. Poor thing. Must’ve been forced into it! You don’t have to worry about that anymore, he’ll keep you safe from whatever criminal underbelly manipulated you into doing this. He turns you into a bit of a pet project. A perfect rehabilitation of a criminal. It’ll be a brilliant morale boost. Maybe even more so if he takes you as his wife? Controversial, yet romantic— the bards will eat it up for sure.

Knight!Soap thinks it’s a bit fishy. Why go after him? Why not the captain of the guard? He’s kind of a dickhead, but he doesn’t make any personal enemies. He’s just gonna have to keep you until you fess up and tell him who hired you and what the motive was. And how lucky he is that the assassin they sent was so cute and squeezable, too! He doesn’t mind having to keep you.

Warlord!Ghost considers this an open proposal for marriage. He’s very much attracted to your gall and open animosity towards him. Both excellent qualities in a wife and a mother. Very well— he accepts!

Lord!Price can see that you’re not a natural born killer. This must have been your first time. Your attempt failed— so he won’t have you killed… he takes a look at you and decides that humiliation is a more fitting punishment. So he’ll be keeping you collared and on a leash for the foreseeable future.

Artificer!Nikolai can see what’s happened right away. You have the smell of otherworld clinging to you. You’re not from around here. But he’ll play along as if he doesn’t know that. As for your punishment… he’s been wanting an apprentice. Some cute little thing to help him around his workshop. Looks like you fit the bill on that.

[hedwig221b]

Hello

I hope you're having an amazing day/evening

Thank you for all your hard work, just finished rereading Incandescent ❤️

Do you know of any fics where Sterek are mates, established or newly discovered, and they have to be apart for a while and the separation causes anxiety, unease or physical pain until they're together again?

I hope that makes sense. Have a lovely day, thank you

You're welcome! As I was finishing this rec list, I remembered that several of my other fics fit this separation trope, bc I'm such a sucker for it, so I added a few in the end 💕

yours was a good heart for me by stilinskisparkles

Stiles was right about the end of the world, and Derek needing something to remember him by just in case.

thank god your heart is too close by hoars

There's a boy, ("Fuck you, dude. I'm seventeen. Not fifteen." Stiles laughs in his memory) waiting for him back home.

Let your unfaithful weaving go by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Every night Stiles goes into the feasting hall to work on the shroud he is making for his husband, knowing that the alphas circle him like sharks until he is inevitably forced to choose one to stand as his alpha and Eli's regent. It's been four years and he doesn't know how much longer he can do this. This is based on the story of Penelope and her suitors, with Stiles in the role of Penelope, the wife of Odysseus

An Alpha's Misunderstandings by Dexterous_Sinistrous

And Derek was there, as if it was a simple twist of fate. There were so many ways Stiles wanted to forgive Derek, but then he came to his senses. He wouldn’t risk Charlotte’s safety for that hope–never again. ~*~ Stiles and Derek are parted by war and misunderstandings, only to find each other again.

A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous

He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend. In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better. ~*~ Or, Stiles is a prince and Derek is his knight.

of gods & monsters by Dexterous_Sinistrous

"I’m not the best at conversation. I’ve been told I have no finesse for it.” Stiles took a step closer to Derek, pushing the billowing silk out of the way. “And what would you say if you looked at me now?” Derek looked up, startled for a moment when he realized he was now looking at Stiles’ unveiled face. He was silent for a beat, taking in Stiles’ features for the first time, convinced he would never see such beauty unveiled for him alone.

sustain by bleep0bleep

Yes, there’s another person in the lab with them, someone who’s heart is beating steadily, sounding achingly familiar somehow, their blood sweet and cloying. Stiles drops the empty bag and rushes forward, because it can’t possibly be— that scent— who he thinks it is—

all stories deserve an end by bleep0bleep

No one hardly ever comes up to this area of the forest, especially with the rumors of the “mad wizard.” Stiles encourages the rumor, because it means people leave him alone. It’s a good, solitary existence as long as Stiles pretends the aching loneliness in his heart isn’t there.

Space Pirate Samba by Wrenegade (orphan_account)

That awkward moment when your fiance comes back from the dead as a space pirate trying to rob you and your sister's ship.

you're the only north star (dear god)

"I will go to the ends of the known universe, I will dive through a fucking black hole, I will walk unarmed with my hands tied into the Nemeton if it means getting him back," Derek says lowly. "But I can't do that if I haven't slept for eight days, and I can't sleep without Stiles."

I Still Believe by IAmAVeronica

War is hell. Falling in love with enemy solider Derek Hale, secretly mating him, and then accidentally being left behind by him when the war suddenly and violently ends is a special kind of hell apparently reserved for one human omega Stiles Stilinski. But Stiles is determined to find his mate again, because Derek left more than just Stiles in a war-ravaged and werewolf-hating country - and with danger at every turn and nothing but Derek's gun and his own wits for protection, hell hath no fury like Stiles now.

Recover, Reclaim, Retain by elisera

Derek stumbles through the camp half-blind, head feeling like cotton and knees trembling, the spell on him making sure he can’t fight the warlock leading him by a chain and he can’t--, can’t even fucking smell--. “No, no, no!” a voice suddenly says next to Derek and there is a hand fisting in Derek’s shirt, jerking him to a stop. “This one’s mine.”

I love this one as well, if you don't mind destiel, and I love sterek here:

Flesh and Bone by theinspiredginger

Dean's trapped in Purgatory looking for his angel when a not so subtle kid in a red sweatshirt asks to team up. Dean takes Little Red Riding Hoodie underneath his wing as they try to escape. Or the one where Stiles bargains with a witch to get sent to purgatory to save Derek and finds Dean instead. They work together to find a way out of Purgatory as they each look for their "person".

Also I LOVE their separation period in this fic, and the reunion is so delicious and beautifully written, my heart aches so good every time, AHHH, I adore it with my entire heart:

Actions Speak Louder than Words by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

"I apologize.” The cop finally looked back up at his face, seeming thrilled. “It’s just—it’s been so long. And we finally have you.” That was a bad word. Not found. Have. Stiles wrenched his hand free and took a step back, but before he could even think up a gameplan, he felt a prick in his neck and jerked away, reaching up to slap one hand against it and twisting in the same moment. One of the others had come up behind him while he hadn’t been paying attention, and his vision began to swim even as his eyes caught sight of the half-empty syringe the guy was holding.

Incandescent

"You are trying to court our alpha,” sang Lydia. “Surely you realize that he does not reciprocate.” “He doesn’t stop it.” There was no point in lying. Paige was courting Derek. She would be a fool not to. “He doesn’t care to.” Lydia arched her thin eyebrow. “Why do you think he’s still searching for his mate, hmm? Why didn’t he stop once you were here? You think you can annoy him into sleeping with you?” Lydia laughed. “He is a born wolf, darling. He will not fuck you if you are not his.”

Angel, Ignited

He was a fool to tell himself he wasn’t thinking of Derek. How could the moon not think of its sun? How, when the light of it — the sight of him — made him yearn to live? Stiles loved him before. Between their shared breath, upon their touch, after the tender words and giddy smiles, Stiles thought he knew what love was. He was a fool. This was love. This was how it felt. Annihilative. Mournful. Take all the air from his throat, he would still ask for Derek first.

Predators

He was born for this. Nature itself whispered into his ear where he should put his hands, how to twirl his tongue just right and when to bite. Stiles knew well enough that his saliva was currently working its magic on this unfortunate man, making him hungry, lustful, and insatiable. Soon, all his thoughts would be consumed by Stiles. And, just this once, Stiles would allow Derek to consume him.

The Happiest of All

"It’s every wolf’s dream. To find a perfect mate, to procreate. It’s a necessity, it’s healthy. It’s in our blood; akin to the moon in the sky, a wolf belongs to their mate. And humans don’t have the capacity to become a mate.” “But I love him,” Stiles whispered, begged. Talia stayed silent for a couple of minutes. “That’s why you should understand it’s not healthy for him to be with you,” her words were simple and clear, like a piece of glass, but sharp all the same. “He will not find true happiness with you. You’re wasting his time. Preventing him from having a future he deserves.”

New Moon

God, if only he knew. If only his wolf were here, Stiles would’ve run and told him everything, because this? This was huge. This was something you’d share with the love of your life. He remembered the phone numbers he didn’t delete. The contact he didn’t text. The same one that remained silent for months. It could have been refreshing and easy to hate him. And Stiles was angry — so angry at his wolf — but hating? No. Derek was invincible from that. Love weakened Stiles. It turned his bones into sludge, and he could do nothing but sink to the floor and lie there, rotting. Left all alone with such tremendous love, Stiles imploded and curled under its weight. He wasn’t supposed to bear it alone. They weren’t supposed to be apart, and certainly not go for so long without contact. This bond was bigger than him, but… just enough for the two of them. Come back, he repeated like a mantra in his head. He screamed it once that cursed night and hadn’t been able to stop. Come back.

Full and Void

Stiles could be meek, sure. In Derek’s arms, softened under the touch, pinned under his weight. He allowed himself to relax only in Derek’s sole presence. Stiles could also look meek. Small, scared. Let the enemies think he was hiding in his mate’s shadow. After all, no one would stop to think that the shadow could ever be dangerous.

[masterlist link]

[ducksido]

Hallo!

Can I request the housewarden with a yuu who got their finger pricked by the spindle (sleeping beauty skkd) and now in a state of comma, probably needs a true love kiss.

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is tense, pacing back and forth with clenched fists. His usual strict, orderly demeanor cracks with worry.

"This is unacceptable! How could something so careless happen to Yuu? We must find the antidote or the remedy immediately!" But beneath his stern tone, he’s conflicted—he’s never been good at expressing affection, and the thought of a “true love’s kiss” unsettles him. Still, he leans down to gently brush Yuu’s hair away and murmurs, "If a kiss is what it takes… then I will do it. For your sake, Yuu." He places a cautious, respectful kiss on Yuu’s forehead, hoping it will awaken them.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona looks frustrated but hides his worry behind a mask of sarcasm. He slouches beside Yuu’s bedside, trying to seem indifferent but clearly shaken.

"Of all things to get knocked out by… a freakin’ spindle. Only you, Yuu." He clenches his jaw and mutters, "…Guess I gotta man up and kiss you, huh? Don’t get any weird ideas." When he finally leans over, his kiss is rough but tender, full of unspoken care, and he waits silently, hoping it works.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul’s expression is calm but tense. His calculating mind races for any magical or practical solution.

"Sleeping curses are a pain… but that ‘true love’s kiss’ trope is quite archaic, isn’t it?" He kneels down, gently taking Yuu’s hand in his, his voice low and genuine, "If that’s what’s needed to wake you, then allow me to be your prince charming." His lips brush Yuu’s fingers first, then their forehead, a surprisingly sweet gesture full of warmth and hope.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim’s eyes brim with tears, his usual bright and carefree energy dimmed by worry.

"Yuu! You can’t stay asleep forever, okay? Please wake up!" He presses a soft kiss to Yuu’s cheek, whispering prayers to the seven, "You’re the brightest light in my world. I’ll wait for you to come back." Kalim’s warmth seems to fill the room, a beacon of hope against the darkness of the curse.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil stands poised and elegant, but the faint tremble in his hands betrays his inner turmoil.

"Such a tragedy… Yuu, you mustn’t leave us in this state." He delicately presses his lips to Yuu’s temple, eyes closed as if sending all his hopes and love through the kiss. "I promise, I will guard your heart until you awaken." His quiet strength offers comfort like a gentle lullaby.

Idia Shroud

Idia rarely shows emotions openly, but seeing Yuu in this vulnerable state cracks his usual cold exterior.

"D-damn it… this shouldn’t be happening." He sits close, wrapping Yuu’s hand in his, his voice a rare mix of desperation and softness, "If I have to kiss you to bring you back, then I will. Just… don’t leave me." His kiss is shy, awkward, but full of heartfelt longing — like a promise that he’ll always be there.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus’s usually stoic and majestic presence softens completely as he kneels by Yuu’s side.

"My beloved Yuu… awaken." His voice is a soothing rumble, and his hand gently cradles Yuu’s cheek. The kiss he gives is deep and reverent, a true love’s kiss filled with ancient power and pure devotion. "Return to me, my light."

[calisources]

ROYAL, FANTASY ROMANCE AND SPICE. all these quotes and sentences are taken from different sources as well some made by myself. change pronouns and places and names as you see fit. some of these are heavy with tension or sexual intention, though nothing too graphic, but you are warned some of these are full of spice and forbidden romance. if you have more suggestions, send them to me and i will add them to this post.

ACTIONS AND SCENARIOS. add +reverse to change the roles.

(royal ball): our muses dance at a royal ball. 

(captive in the tower): sender is held captive and receiver helps save them.

(arranged marriage): our muses are thrown together into an arranged marriage.

(childhood betrothal): arranged to wed since being children, our muses finally meet days before the wedding.

(ward): send is a ward at the receiver's house/home. 

(stolen kiss): sender kisses receiver before a battle, away from prying eyes.

(mystery knight): sender is unknown at court and receiver wants to know them further.

(secrets): our muses are together in a secret relationship as their families wouldn’t approve. 

(brother’s keeper): sender is receiver’s brother's best friend. Sender has been harboring a crush since they met.

(taken): sender is taken prisoner by receiver on their ship at sea after a shipwreck.

(horse ride): there is only one horse trope, our muses have to ride together.

(guard): sender is made receiver’s guard and they have to travel/spend time together.

(no one is here to help): receiver is taken to sender as their captive.

(aftermath): after a battle/war, sender and receiver reunite thinking the other was dead. 

(my prince): sender falls for receiver, who is the realm’s prince/princess.

(tourney): sender gives the receiver their favor during a tournament.

(piece of me): sender ties a piece of cloth on receiver’s hand to wrap around a wound.

(you left): sender left receiver years ago, now reunited, receiver is upset.

(last kiss): unsure if they will see each other again, sender kisses the receiver before distracting enemies so receiver can escape.

(under my protection): sender proclaims himself receiver’s protector while receiver is traveling/captive.

(starcrossed): our muses find out they have to marry other people and they reunite at night.

(we were in love once): our muses were together in a relationship in their youth and now see each other after years.

(my castle is yours): sender pledges their castle as a fortress to keep the receiver safe.

(gentle touch): sender heals the receiver of their wounds and inevitably grows close.

(magic): receiver is a being of magical properties and sender finds themselves enthralled by them.

(my paramour): receiver becomes sender’s mistress.

(the bane of my existence): our muses never got along and yet, they harbor feelings for one another after a heated argument.

(maze): our muses lose their guards in a maze and they find each other alone.

(it was always you): our muses are childhood friends about to get married.

(to make peace): from opposite houses, our muses are now married to bring peace.

(corner): behind a corner of the great hall, sender corners receiver after seeing them dance with someone else.

(advisor): receiver works as an advisor for sender, despite objection around court.

(rags to riches): receiver is a bastard now made legitimate and people around the realm came to meet them. Sender is one of them.

(at your service): receiver is a lady in waiting/personal guard to sender’s sibling and a romance develops.

(saved): sender is saved by receiver, who is a healer/witch.

SENTENCES AND QUOTES:

“You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.”

“He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.”

“Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.”

“I want you—but I don’t want this."

“Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.”

“There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.”

“I will not share you."

“Well, princess, let’s see what you’re made of.”

“She added the flowers and incense to help mask your own scent.”

“Your eyes betray you. Your body even responds to mine no matter that you’re angry. You want me.”

“He is my ruin. My complete and utter devastation.”

“Just how long have you been sticking it to the girl who’s like a little sister to us?”

“There’s a certain sort of beauty in submission.”

“My story hasn’t been written yet, but I know it begins with you.”

“You will love this man. Do you understand? You will love him, serve him, and obey him in all things. This is your duty to me and to France. Am I clear?’

“She didn’t need a man. She wanted one.”

“Your wish is my command, my queen.”

“It is legal because I wish it.”

“Rejection is an opportunity for your selection.”

“She's magic, Cassandra. A single flower blooming in an endless desert.”

“Do you really want to put yourself through this? Is loving me really enough to endure everything you have to just to be with me?"

“Make no mistake.You are under my protection now, and I protect what is mine.”

“But perhaps, when you sleep, you will dream of me."

“I cannot come with you, my prince.”

“This woman was consuming him, bit by bit.”

“Call him. Claim him. Speak his Name. Make him thine before all others.”

“You are the harbor of my soul’s journeying.”

“We love what we love. We don’t need to justify it to anyone… not even to ourselves.”

“To love something despite. To know the flaws and love them too. That is rare and pure and perfect.”

“The heart is neither given nor stolen. The heart surrenders.”

“Give yourself to me.”

“I ask for so little. Just fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your man to serve.”

“I married you to stop the bloodshed, and you keep killing. When will it be enough- when?”

“Marriage is a marriage- love or arranged. Both require the same level of commitment.”

“We are trapped by convention and must marry another.”

“We had both accepted the unwritten rule of arranged marriage: love, if it arrived at all, would bloom with time.”

“Be with me. Want me. Stay with me.I don’t know how to be without you.”

“We were doomed from the start. A lost cause. A losing battle.”

“Mr. Larsen, if you make me cry at my own coronation ball, I’ll never forgive you.”

“You are my very own forbidden fruit.”

“I’m scared, but I’d rather have one real day with you than a lifetime of misguided security.”

“And you, are mine.”

“You think a courtship and a hunt are two separate things. They are not.”

“I will share him with you, I cannot lose him.”

“Why must you resist me so dearly? When you tremble under my touch?”

“You must be made of magic itself. Your touch is warm.”

“One day, I will be able to leave you.”

“Did he touch you? Did you enjoy the way he held you across the room?”

"I will be your husband. I will take a solemn vow to protect you until death do us part. Do you understand what that means?"

“And why, pray tell, should I make it easy?'

"You are the bane of my existence--and the object of all of my desires. Night and day I dream of you."

"I did not ask for this--to be plagued by these feelings."

“I have loved you at every dance, on every walk, and every time we've been together. You must feel it in your heart, because I do."

“Because,by the time I’m done, prayer is the only thing that is going to save you.”

“Suppose I told everyone that I had seduced you.”

“You’re not planning to refuse me, are you?”

'Tell me if I do anything you don't like.”

“Say you do not care for me. Tell me you feel nothing and I will walk away.”

“I am a gentleman. My father raised me to act with honor, but that honor is hanging by a thread that grows more precarious with every moment I spend in your presence.”

“If I wed your sister, it will bind me and you together for eternity, and I will spend every day of my marriage wanting you, dreaming of you, dreading the day when my last thread of honor finally snaps.”

“I have never met anyone like you. It is maddening, how much you consume my very being.”

“That scent. It has remained imprinted on my mind ever since that night of the conservatory ball on that terrace. Lilies.”

“I desire you. I burn for you. I can't sleep at night because I want you."

“You’re the center of a star, and the force of gravity keeps pulling me closer, and I don’t give a damn that I’m about to be incinerated.“

“Whatever bad thing happened to you, it hasn’t made you less beautiful. There’s beauty in darkness, too.”

“I belong to you. Only you…I’ll always be yours. No matter what.”

[unboundprompts]

Romantic Prompts

↳ a masterpost for writing prompts with romantic themes.

↳ (#) is from my collection of random prompts, (list) contains multiple prompts.

If you like what I do and want to support me, please consider buying me a coffee! I also offer editing services and other writing advice on my Ko-fi! Become a member to receive exclusive content, early access, and prioritized writing prompt requests.

I also have a Patreon! Become a member to gain access to a Member's Only Community where you can chat and message other members and myself. Also gain access to my personal writing, which includes completed short stories, chapters from novels in progress, as well as completed scenes.

Unrequited Love, Reluctant Love, Falling Out of Love Prompts:

Unwanted Love (#3)

Not Good for Each Other (#7)

Not Meant to Be (#9)

Questioning the Validity of Romantic Feelings (list)

Character in Love with Someone Who They Think Hates Them (list)

Couple Fell Out of Love (list)

Controlling Childhood Friend in Love with their "Puppet" (list)

Denial of Romantic Feelings (list)

Fake Dating Tropes (list)

Someone Who's Perfect (#152)

Character that Pushes Away the People they Love (list)

Forbidden Romance Dialogue (list)

Unrequited Love Turns Requited (list)

Too Afraid to Lose You (#188)

Requited Love Prompts:

You Would Like That, Wouldn't You? (#31)

Three Good Things (#44)

Trying to Forget You (#45)

The Drawing (#48)

Love Me Today, Love Me Tomorrow (#78)

Anything You Want Me to Be (#78)

Comforting their Lover with Abandonment Issues (list)

Couple Didn't Realize They Were in Love Until Separation (list)

Height Difference Prompts (list)

Subtle Romantic Gestures (list)

I Thought I Could Fix You (#187)

Love Confession Prompts:

I Think I'm in Love with You (#51)

Responses to "I Want You" (list)

Responses to "Do You Love Me?" (list)

Responses to "Do You Like Me Too?" (list)

Responses to a Sudden Compliment (list)

Love Confession after an Argument (list)

Being Shocked After a Kiss (list)

Say it to My Face (#131)

Jealous Fight Turned Love Confession (list)

Enemies/Rivals to Lovers Prompts:

The Art Thief (#81)

Rivals to Lovers at a Martial Arts Academy (list)

Anxious Character x Careless Character (list)

First Kiss Prompts (list)

One Bed Trope: Morning After Dialogue (list)

Bonding Over Horror Movies and Mystery Books (list)

Blushing Like a Sinner in Chapel (#96)

Rivals Being Shipped Together (list)

Academic Rivals to Lovers (list)

Exes to Lovers Dialogue (list)

Exes to Lovers Morning After

Fantasy Tropes Prompts:

Princess x Their Guard (list)

Princess x Knight (list)

Royal Painter x Knight (list)

Prince x Prince (list)

Immortal x Reincarnated Lover (list)

Immortal x Mortal Lover Reborn (list)

Immortal x Time Traveler (list)

Hero x Civilian (list)

Sci-Fi OTP (list)

Witch x Fairy (list)

Ghost x Human (list)

Monster x Human (list)

Quiet Monster x Human (list)

Alien x Human (list)

Other Specific Tropes Prompts:

Shy/Easily Embarrassed Character Getting Flustered (list)

Country x City Prompts (list)

Amnesia/Childhood Friends (list)

Sunshine Character x Serious Character (list)

Opposite Couples (ex: Always and Never, War and Peace) (list)

Opposite Couples: Sea and Sky (list)

Sarcastic Aloof x Annoying Hothead (list)

Medic x Soldier (list)

Prisoner x Guard (list)

Book-Loving Couple (list)

Friends to Lovers Road Trip (list)

Cheerleader x Jock (list)

[lowkeyren]

HSR M.LIST!

⌞ to yearn is to ache, my daring savior.⌝ [₊˚⊹] personal favs! (sorted from top earliest -> bottom latest)

—ONESHOTS

heartfelt embrace (aventurine x gn reader) aventurine gets jealous when another man offers you a drink and gets too comfy with you.

dangerous infatuation (blade x fem reader) ₊˚⊹ you encounter blade while travelling on the xianzhou luofu with the astral express, who saves you from danger, and asks for a reward in return.

drunk words, sober thoughts (aventurine x gn reader) ₊˚⊹ “taking your boss home after he gets drunk for the nth time this week” wasn’t in your job description; but as emotions run high, would you still choose to resist his advances?

your doctor at bay, keeps the nightmares away (dr ratio x gn reader) your boyfriend comforts you from a nightmare

for his heart can't take it anymore (dan f/heng x gn reader) dan feng can’t imagine a life without you. so even when death takes your hand, he'll hold on to your other and do anything to get you back in his embrace, no matter the consequences.

two can play that game (sunday x gn reader) ₊˚⊹ sunday, realizing he fell head over heels for you, tries to push you away, only to have his efforts backfire, which leads to a heated confession.

my muse, my cure (jiaoqiu x gn reader) both you and jiaoqiu are deeply concerned about each other's health but have an unconventional way of showing it.

where hope begins with you (dan heng x gn reader) dan heng was never one to look forward to things. that is, until you entered his life and taught him how to hope once more.

trick or... tricked? (aventurine x gn reader) you save a strikingly handsome vampire, not knowing he would get attached to you in more ways than one.

catch me if you can (moze x gn reader) it’s a classic game of cat and mouse between you and moze, yet why does it seem like the mouse is enjoying the chase far more than the cat?

reject me not! (blade x gn reader) ₊˚⊹ when your sudden confession catches blade off guard, his response comes across as a rejection. though he realises his mistake, and tries his best to make things right.

close call (boothill x gn reader) crammed in a maintenance closet with boothill, his audacious plan saves you both from the ipc —but not without leaving your heart racing for reasons far beyond fear.

how to win my husband over 101 (mydei x fem reader) ₊˚⊹ you marry the ruthless prince of kremnos, and everyone says you'll never thaw his heart. but you’re nothing if not stubborn. surely all you have to do is win him over right? how hard can that be?

—VARIOUS

reverse dating tropes (boothill jing yuan blade) ₊˚⊹ reverse dating tropes pt2 (gepard aventurine sunday) ₊˚⊹ those classic/cliche fanfic tropes but with a twist

random texts (jing yuan blade aventurine) random texts (dan heng boothill gepard)

but you belong to me (dan heng blade jing yuan) ₊˚⊹ some jealousy headcanons / scenarios for our favourite luofu men!

not everyone knows (dan feng, blade, jing yuan) being in a secret relationship with them but they’re all idiots

where to now? ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ navigation.

[kirkenovak]

Voidwalker Knight/Prince AU anyone?

John Walker used to be the most renowned knight in the realm, until a certain incident turned him into one of the most reviled ones. Now, after being stripped of his lands and titles, ridiculed and shunned, he makes his living as a mercenary, protecting caravans from highwaymen and clearing out bandit camps for two-bit lords.

During a raid on a bandit stronghold, he finds a young man imprisoned in a cell and given the amount of guards that was guarding him, John figures out he must be rich, or at least important enough to collect ransom. The man introduces himself as Bob and says that if John manages to get him to the capital city, there will be a reward waiting.

So John and Bob embark on a long, perilous journey through the kingdom. We can’t trust anyone, Bob says, the people who imprisoned me are powerful and have friends in high places.

They have to fight bandits, traverse treacherous terrain, steal chickens, pretend to be married, often finding out there indeed is only one bed. They fall in love. They get to have a romantic encounter in a barn/stables (trust me, it’s a great trope)

Eventually the truth is revealed. Bob or rather Prince Robert is the younger brother of the king - The Golden One, known as Sentry. The third brother, Void, kidnapped and imprisoned Bob and held him captive for years, to have a leverage on Sentry but also because he’s just a dick who hates both his brothers.

The capital is just within the reach but Void himself is in pursuit. Will our heroes make it?? (Yes). Will Bob be reunited with his brother? (Yes) Will John get his honour and titles back (Also a yes). Will there be a big royal wedding? (Well duh, wouldn’t be a story without it!)

[airybcby]

hii i was wondering if i could have kaiser 🍰 for 'More Than A Married Couple, But Not Lovers' event thank you!

Of course!! You didn't pick a trope, so i picked one for you, hope you don't mind!

a michael kaiser apple slice :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° the lingering question kept me up

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — michael kaiser x gn! reader, gn! reader, rivals-to-lovers, arrogany and rude kaiser, hot headed! reader, reader calls kaiser a prince once, bickering, fighting, set in a high school setting

♡ synopsis — every girl wanted to get paired with michael kaiser, except you. and isn't it just your luck that that's exactly what ends up happening.

If there were a ranking of people you’d least want to be paired with in a fake marriage simulation, Michael Kaiser would sit comfortably at the top.

The smug, arrogant soccer star had been a thorn in your side since the day he transferred to the academy. He wasn’t just good—he was incredible—and he knew it, lording his talent over everyone with a devil-may-care attitude and a smirk that could ignite arguments in seconds.

So, naturally, when your name was called alongside his for the month-long program, your first reaction was disbelief.

“This must be a nightmare,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at the instructor, even if they didn't care how you felt

“Nightmares are just dreams, sweetheart,” Kaiser said, flashing you his trademark grin.

The first week was nothing short of a disaster.

Kaiser treated the simulation like a game he was determined to win, turning every task into an opportunity to assert dominance.

“You call this cooking?” he teased, poking at the pasta you’d made for dinner.

“Maybe I’d try harder if my husband didn’t lounge around like a spoiled prince,” you shot back, slamming your fork down.

“Ah, but I am a spoiled prince,” he said with a dramatic bow. “And you’re lucky to be married to royalty.”

You rolled your eyes so hard they hurt. It wasn’t just his constant teasing—it was the way he seemed to glide through life without effort, as if nothing could touch him.

But what infuriated you most was how easily he charmed everyone else. While you were busy struggling through the tasks, Kaiser had your classmates laughing, the instructors nodding in approval, and even the simulation’s pretend landlord eating out of his hand.

Things changed during the second week.

The task was to build a piece of furniture together—a deceptively simple project designed to test communication skills. Predictably, the two of you argued the entire time.

“Kaiser, you’re putting the screws in the wrong way.”

“No, I’m putting them in the efficient way. You’re just slow.”

“Efficient? You mean completely wrong?”

An hour later, the bookshelf you’d been building collapsed in a heap of wood and screws. You sank to the floor, burying your face in your hands. “This is hopeless.”

“Hey,” Kaiser said, his voice softer than usual. “It’s not that bad.”

You looked up, surprised to find him crouched beside you. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something almost… sincere.

“You’re good at this stuff,” he admitted. “I’ll follow your lead this time.”

The words caught you off guard. For the first time, it felt like he was taking you seriously, not just treating this as another game to win.

Working together after that was easier. He still teased you, of course—this was Kaiser—but there was less bite to it, and you found yourself smiling despite your best efforts.

By the third week, something had shifted between you.

Kaiser, as it turned out, wasn’t just good at soccer. He was good at listening, too. When you vented about the program’s ridiculous expectations, he didn’t interrupt with a sarcastic comment or brush you off. Instead, he sat beside you, offering thoughtful advice and the occasional joke to lighten the mood.

“You’re not as insufferable as I thought,” you admitted one evening, after finishing the day’s tasks.

“High praise,” he said with a laugh. “I could say the same about you.”

It wasn’t long before the teasing turned into something softer, more playful. The line between rivalry and something else began to blur, and you found yourself looking forward to his smirks, his quips, even the way he always managed to steal the last slice of pizza.

The final week of the simulation brought the ultimate test: a mock anniversary dinner, complete with speeches about what you’d learned from your “partner.”

You’d planned to keep your speech simple—something polite but detached. But as you stood in front of the class, looking at Kaiser’s confident smirk, the words you’d prepared evaporated.

“I thought this simulation would be a nightmare,” you began, earning a few laughs. “And, at first, it was. But somewhere along the way, I realized… maybe it wasn’t all bad. Kaiser might be arrogant and impossible, but he’s also… surprising. He’s thoughtful when he wants to be, and he pushes me to be better, even when it drives me crazy. So, I guess… I’m glad it was him.”

You sat down, your face burning, and avoided looking at him.

When it was his turn to speak, he stood with his usual flair, hands in his pockets and a cocky grin on his face.

“I could say a lot of things about my lovely partner,” he began, shooting you a wink. “But the truth is, they're smarter, stronger, and more stubborn than anyone I’ve ever met. And if I had to do this again, I’d choose them every time.”

Your breath caught, and for once, his grin didn’t feel like an act.

The simulation ended with the two of you earning the highest score in the class, but it was the goodbye that stayed with you.

“You know,” Kaiser said as he helped you pack up the last of your things, “we make a good team.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you teased, but your voice was softer than usual.

He stepped closer, his usual confidence tempered with something quieter. “Maybe we don’t have to stop being a team.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… let’s find out what happens next,” he said, his smirk softening into a genuine smile.

For once, you didn’t have a comeback. Instead, you nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “Okay.”

And as he walked you to the door, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Michael Kaiser wasn’t so bad after all.

i love a good rivals to lovers

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!