#and serves their mother-son relationship so well

[ctrlhope]

Bound By Blood (m)

synopsis: A servant to the state since birth, forced to work for the royal family until you die. These are the conditions that have granted you life, yet are they are the same ones that can take everything away. He can take everything away. But he would never, for you are his future, his eternity.

k.taehyung x f.reader

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: wc: 16.0k

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: genre: royalty au, soft yandere, fluff, smut, smidge of angst

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: content: soft yandere!prince!taehyung, maid!reader, power imbalance, talks about death/violence, blood, slight predator/prey dynamics, manipulation, misunderstandings, dom!tae, tae calls reader lamb, oral (f.receiving), marriage related dirty talk, virginity kink/loss of virginity, size kink, praise, reader is fucked dumb, implied kissing reader while she sleeps, implied offscreen somno, implied stalking, ownership, tae is rlly sweet and adorable

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! this was meant to be a drabble but as you can see it spiralled out of control lmao. i got a little hyper fixated (and grew a really bad crush on this taehyung) so it ended up being way longer than i initially thought! regardless, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it!!

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The Kim Empire. 

Your home, your family, your livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

They practically brandish your mind, have been since you were no more than a babe. Stuck in the clutches of everything Kim since you were born. Your mother a maid, your father gone from the face of the earth. At least as far as you are concerned he is, anyway. 

He is better off dead. The alternative of him living scott free in some far off land, meanwhile you have to serve the hand and foot of the king sets no more than the bitter taste of coffee beans against your gums. 

Bedding your mother, no more than a fresh-faced maid at the time. Outcasting her the second after when he had to have known the rules of the palace. The demise it would cost both her and her future daughter. Perhaps every generation that followed as well– if there were to be any, that is. 

Housestaff are not meant to have relationships. They are meant to serve the king and his bountiful family. How are you meant to do anything else with a child bouncing at your hip, a husband grabbing at your ass. 

You’ve heard the speech plenty of times. The words ingrained in your skull just as the brand you received when you were far too young to remember the pain of it. Evidence that you are bound to the palace by blood until the very moment you take your last breath. 

The punishment for becoming pregnant within the walls of the palace are simple: your child belongs to them. For anything within the Kim Estate is their rightful property, given to them by the grace of god. 

You, a gift from god to serve the empire. You would snort at the notion if training from a young age prohibited it. You are just a result of your mothers kindness, her naivety. 

You could never find it within your heart to blame her. She was just a girl who thought she was in love. Fired for her love. Had her daughter taken from her to serve for her love.

Love is something you will never be granted the property of. 

You will be granted an allowance to send home to your mother to keep her afloat. You will be granted a room to sleep in, clothes to wear, food to eat. A secure job in which you can never be fired– well. That is a lie. Though, your termination would come at the end of an axe, rather than a piece of paper. 

You used to muse at the thought– when you were a young girl, no more than 11 or 12. Going through your melancholy years, hating the rest of the world for simply existing. For putting you in a position where you could not change your fate, instead had to endure your present. Feeling like a  girl trapped in a tower just like the bedtime stories had always prescribed. 

One time you had caused such a ruckus in front of the oldest Kim son you really did think you were going to get the axe. Hell, you were even prepared for it. Locked away in a cell for two nights, brought before the executor. 

Right before the swing was meant to be brought down against your neck the head maid ran into the room, gave some sort of letter to the man. She apologised profusely, gripping your ear and dragging you away from the scene. 

You hadn’t acted ary since then. It taught you your place. Made you realise the need to survive buried deep within your bones. In the innate way some sort of wildcat would lash out until it was bloodied and on its last breath. 

You would not die at the end of a knife. You’d live your life, acting a maid until you could die peacefully of old age. Even if it meant surrendering yourself to servitude for the most annoying brat you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

A quiet sigh slips past your lips at the mere thought of him. The sound would get you punished if anyone were to hear, especially in respect to the coveted crown prince of the kingdom. Few share the same opinion as you of him– but then again most that work here aren’t forced. 

It is only when the stars are strung high in the sky that you allow yourself to feel such things. When you stay awake past the beginning of rest hours, most of the staff (save for the night shift) falling to sleep hours prior. Only then when you’re out in the gardens do you allow indignation to satiate your brain. 

For the few hours of freedom you may hold dear until the next morning begins and you are forced to live the same day once more. Over and over again until the end of time. 

Your fingertips reach out as you walk, bruised from the scrubbing of floors, to find purchase against the walls of flowers rimming the maze. Rough fingertips dance against the gentle petals of roses, lulling in the feeling. Picking themselves against the thorns without much of a thought, not withdrawing. Only pausing feet to observe. 

How can something so delicate and beautiful wish to cause harm? It does not. It simply desires a way to survive. You could never fault it for that. 

“Pretty, are they not?” A dark, husky voice sends cold down your spine. Hairs become on edge, back straightens taught, ears perk just as if you are an obedient dog. Fear flashing through your entire being.

You do not wish to turn around. Do not have any want to face the man that has caught the air in your lungs. The one catching you in the garden without any proper attire in place. Though you must. You must bow, grovel at his feet for forgiveness for allowing him to see you in your nightgown. For not being in bed as you should. 

Prince Kim has never been known for being kind. 

Your body acts for you while your mind sets on pause– taking several steps forward, bending your body at the hips to give a proper 90 degree bow. Your hands clasp before you, hair coming down in front of your face. 

“Prince Kim–” You rush, suddenly out of breath, “Please forgive my insolence. I-I am not of right attire or mind to be standing in front of his excellency right now. Nor should I be excused for touching the property of the palace. I have no proper excuse and any punishment you decide will be deserving. Please forgive me.” The words recite from your lips like a bible– instruction of them being heard time and time again. 

Cold night air whips at your ankles, fluttering the gown around your ankles. The chill only adding to the cold sweat you’ve discovered has perspired. Making your hair dance around your shoulders.

You expect something, anything really. A slap, a single word. Though there is only silence in response. Silence that extends far too long and feels far too pungent for your taste. If he was going to do something, you rather he just get it over with. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear the baritone of his voice once more.

“Pretty, are they not?” He asks again, repeating the same sentiments as before. Confusion bristles through as a kite in the summer air. Why is he asking you this? Is he not annoyed he caught a maid in such a level of disrobement? What is he trying to gain? What does he want? 

All the questions you do not have any hope to answer rush through you causing you to feel confused and incomposed. Every boring lesson you were forced to sit through never taught you how to deal with this exact situation. You aren’t sure what he wants, nor your place in the garden. The thought scares you. 

Against your better judgement, you allow your chin to tilt up only slightly. Only enough to look at the man– to try and read the expression on his face so you can better analyse your next action. 

The shock you feel when you find his face is only inches from your own, frame bent down to make his eyes level with yours is something you cannot explain in words alone. 

You would prefer to scream and run, however that is not an option at this moment, or so it appears. Instead, your eyes only widen in shock, in trepidation. Your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ as you stare.

Never before have you made eye contact with a member of the family. Never before have you had the luxury to view one so close. In any other circumstance, you suppose, you would surely be punished for such a thing. Someone lower should never view a future king in such a way.

You wish you could say he was a heinous, ugly beast for hatred of the palace alone. Yet you can’t, for he isn’t. He is beautiful. 

Sure, you knew that already. Paintings of him are plastered across the walls– his face is everywhere eyes are able to reach. Yet this close, at this angle, you can’t stop the way your heart skips a beat. Can’t help but admire every facet of his complexion before being thrown in front of the lion again. 

A gorgeous, blinding smile wipes across his face the moment you face him. Lips forming into an adorable box after he finally has your attention fully drawn on him. You’re startled back once again, sending your brain into a further whirlwind than before. 

He desires an answer.

“I um… Yes. I suppose they are.” You nod slowly in response, following in his footsteps as he returns to full height. 

You must follow his lead– it is how you will survive. 

You usher a stray lock of hair over your shoulder, trying to stop it from hitting your face. The air starts to become stale again, feeling empty in the lack of his reply. It is awkward, and the way he stares at you, eyes darting around your face– your figure, has you feeling in some sort of girlish, embarrassed way. 

You think you dislike the feeling. 

“Are you a fan of roses?” His arms are pulled behind him, wrapped together as he bounces on his toes in something that looks like… boyish delight? The muddle of your brain can't help to understand a single thing. He is making no sense, trying to make conversation with you. Trying to find a morsel of companionship in someone who is meant to bow to him like he is the true god of your mortal plain.

You will have to oblige until he allows you to depart. 

“I suppose so.” 

He frowns. Try again.

“I adore them, the palace always has the most gorgeous petals all year round.” You smile at him, hoping it masks any discomfort you feel. 

The smile returns to his own lips as he begins to walk. Tilting his head to you as a cue to join him. You try to keep your paces a few behind his own, a maid should never walk beside a member of the family. Though he only slows in response, matching your gate even though it is obvious he hates having to slow down. 

Why is he behaving in this manner? It makes no sense to you. 

“The flower of devotion.” He nods, breaking the silence once more and keeping his eyes straight ahead. 

You almost want to admire his profile– the gentle curve of his nose, yet you refrain. Training your eyes ahead, keeping your fingers laced in front of you. Trying to look as put together as possible at this moment. 

“Is it?” You quiz, unable to take the awkward silence anymore. He doesn’t seem to mind it. Unbothered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his loose, flowing sleep pants. 

“Of many other things, as well.” He nods, sending a slight smile at you. 

“I don’t know much about the language of flowers.” Though it feels wrong to be talking with Prince Kim so casually, you try your best. The more you give in, mayhaps the sooner he’ll bore and the faster you will be able to run from the cage. 

“Tell me your favourite, maybe I can tell you its meaning.” He pauses and you find yourself at the foot of the gazebo. He reaches out his hand, offering to help you up the small stairs of it. 

All over again you find yourself taken aback. The prince is requesting that you touch him, not for his service, but your own. He desires to help you. Is for some reason treating you like a lady. 

You don’t understand it, yet with great hesitation you oblige. You place your hand on his much larger one, allowing it to encase it. Help you up the stairs.

“I don’t know many…” You hope he cannot hear the hesitation in your tone, “Though I’ve always been fond of lilies.” You tell him, attempting to pull your hand away from his own as you reach the top. 

He doesn’t allow it, keeping your small palm tight in his own. Fear trickles in once more, circling around your heart, constricting it. 

You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him in the slightest. It is here where you shall face punishment for all the previous misdemeanours committed. White stone shall be painted with red and you will be left to your own devices to clean up the mess.

Your lungs start to take in more air, though of course you try to disguise it. Turning around to face him, to discover why he has kept you held firm, air is leaving your lungs for another reason entirely. 

He holds your hand close, examining your fingers. Tilting it back and forth, smoothing his thumb over the back of your skin. If he takes note of the little dots of red, he doesn’t make comment of it. He only curls his fingers upwards, hooking against your own. Bringing your hand up to his lips as if it was the most delicate thing on earth. Staring at them with a passion you doubt you’ve ever seen before.

“Rebirth.” His breath fans across your knuckles, slowly lowering to place a gentle kiss against the skin. His lips are soft, so gentle against your weary flesh. So full of safety, so full of song.

When he retracts, he pulls away no more than a millimeter, though his grip tightens. 

“Purity.”

Your first meeting with the prince had left you with a flurry of emotions, none of which you could hope to syphon through. For hours he kept you in the gazebo, sitting with you. Talking until it appeared the sun was cresting over the horizon. 

He refused to release your hand the entire time. His fingers playing with your own, perhaps obsessed with the feeling of your tiny hand laced with his own pristine skin. Did not pay any attention the several times you tried to excuse yourself, only changing the subject of conversation to try and keep you in place.

It was strange. Confusing. You did not understand the reasoning or cause behind any of his actions. 

Well, at least until the next morning while you were scrubbing the floors. Your friend Annabell cleaning right by your side. Catching up, gossiping about the new recruits found in the manner. It is only times like these when you actually get the chance to talk, to giggle with someone meant to be your equal in both age and house status. 

The only chance you’re truly able to forget about the fact she is able to leave once her contract expires. But it does not matter– any small amount of spite you hold is slashed away by her kind smile. The understanding in her eyes as she treats you like just another maid set to work for the king instead of a captive. 

It is only after the 7th yawn of the morning she asks about the poorly covered bags under your eyes. You had gone to bed with the rest of the girls, there is no reason you should be so tired. You never appear to be, at least it is not shown around others.

You struggle with yourself for a moment, trying to decide whether the night before was meant to be kept as a closely guarded secret to your chest. Yet one look at your closest confidant had you spilling everything. 

The entire night– the stars, the flowers, the way he prattled on. How tight he gripped your dirty, calloused hand against his pristine soft ones. 

You feel strange speaking of it, remembering it in any way. It causes your cheeks to heat and a fury to settle below your ribs. 

It is a strange feeling, yet not an entirely unwanted one. 

Your eyes train to the floor as you spill your soul, unable to keep it in once it starts pouring out. You try to keep your tone as neutral as possible– to tell her about the night as if it was a simple news story you heard from a guard. Though, you’re unsure of your success in the matter. 

A poised laugh leaves the lips of your counter, her eyes cresting into half-moons. 

“You cannot be serious right? You tell stories.” She giggles, shaking her head before continuing her assault on the floor. 

You simply shake your own. 

“It happened, I was as shocked in the moment as you seem to be now.” She lets out a small bellow of giggles once again. 

“No, no. I believe it happened entirely. I’m only talking about the fluster of your face.” She giggles, lifting her rag and shaking it for dramatic effect. You roll your eyes, cracking a small smile.

“There is no such thing.” You laugh knowing that there is. 

“Oh my heavens. Y/n, you cannot tell me you’ve grown fond of the Prince, have you?” Her words are hushed now, much more so than before. As if someone may be listening to the conversation. 

You tense in reply, unsure of the answer yourself. The closest you’ve ever felt to fondness of another man was a stable boy a few years back. Only 17 at the time, head wrapped in romance novels that you didn’t entirely understand. He was handsome and he was kind. However just as you were starting to become closer to him, he was sent away to work at another palace. 

You had not been optimistic since then.

She takes your silence as an answer in itself. Moving towards you, gripping your shoulders and hauling you to sit on your haunches. Forcing you to look at her face as she speaks. 

“You cannot be serious.” She repeats again, hoping for any sign of doubt. All she receives is bewilderment in reply, “Y/n. You can never trust Prince Kim.” 

You sigh, “I know, Anne, I–” You’re cut off with her own voice again.

“No, not in the way you’re imagining.” She sighs, letting her hands drop from your shoulders to continue scrubbing at the floor. Making work of herself as she speaks, “The other maids don’t tell you of much, do they?” 

You can’t deny it. Your seclusion within the castle walls is only partly of your own design. 

Other maids do not feel as though they can trust you, seeing as you are full property of the crown. In their eyes, you hold not a crumb of loyalty to your own kind. Few maids speak to you like Annabell does for fear the second they say anything wrong you are going to tell the world. 

You would never, though your word is worth its weight in feathers to them.

“They don’t care for me as you do… no…” You admit, continuing to clean as well. She already knew the answer, letting out an exhale before she speaks.

“Prince Kim has a pension for… debauchery… I shall say,” She flinches at her own words, yet doesn’t know a better way to put it, “The variety in which he uses pretty words to seduce young ladies to bed with him. Royalty from other lands, general’s daughters, maids. It matters not. He likes them for the night then pretends they shall never exist again.” 

Each word she speaks sends another stab into your gut. A dull pain blooming from the same places which a swirling was forming before. 

Ah. It all makes sense now. 

“Oh.”

“He has a particular fondness for the other maids, you know. Bedding them without a second thought.” A grimace forms on your friend's lips, scrubbing harder into the already shining floors, “There is no reason to form any sort of affection for that man. It will only end with his seed inside your core and a knife in your heart.” 

Yes, everything she is saying makes perfect sense. You feel almost stupid to not see it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it– want to think about it in any sort of fashion. But this makes much more sense than the crown prince wanting to speak to you for any other purpose. Explains why he was acting as a true gentleman to someone so much lower than him. 

However, you find that it does not take away the cavernous pit that has formed in your gut. 

“I see, I have no desire for either.” You nod your head in understanding, not sure of what else to say. “I don’t understand why he’s taken an interest in me, though.” 

She gawks, “I don’t understand why it has taken him so long to in the first place.” She shakes her head.

“Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter. Y/n, you must promise me. You will not fall for him, nor give any part of yourself to him. He is not someone that will care for you like you deserve.” She states, blue eyes piercing icicles into your own. She is determined and will not relent until you agree.

“I do not wish to. Not after hearing all of…” You make some sort of motion with your hand, “that. Anyone would be a fool to like him.” 

You nod your head while Annabell smiles in agreement. 

“Good.” 

Those are the last words you exchange with anyone for hours. The rest of the day passed by with lightning, an endless turnstile of things to take care of. A ball was to be held soon meaning the castle would be a wreck for the next few days. Too much planning, cleaning, sewing, coordination had to take place before anyone could rest. 

Honestly, you were grateful for it. A break from thinking was much needed. As is a good night’s rest. 

You sigh, already imagining how lovely it would feel to pull off your shoes for the day. Peel the cotton off your body and replace your dress with something more comfortable. 

Oo! Hopefully enough warm water will be left for a quick bath. That would be just wonderful, your muscles would be able to unfurl. The perfect thing to lull you into a glorious sleep.

Your arms stretch over your head as you finish descending the staircase into the maid hallways. Bones in your back pop from the pressure, causing a sigh to make its way from your lungs. Your nimble fingers make their way to the ribbon holding your hair in place, untying it and allowing the tresses to fall. 

Soon you would be in the maid resting quarters– your appearance would matter not there anyway. 

You send small smiles to other staff members passing you, those that have either just woken for the night or those who still have work to do. Yet in return, each one of them just stares at you with an incredulous look. Turning and whispering to their friends as if you were not still in front of them. 

You can’t help to understand why. Those around you may not have considered you a friend, but they were never rude. Always polite when need be. It has you feeling strange, some type of nervousness as you get closer and closer to the hallway extending to the maids personal rooms. 

Rounding the corner, you discover exactly why. 

His frame looks entirely out of place standing there. A perfect, pristine picture in a hallway of drab, illuminated only by the lanterns hanging on the wall. Royal blue tunic draped on his shoulders only emphasising his status. 

He looks as though he was never meant to be here. Like a mistake was made along the cobblestone walls. No, he looks as though he is meant to be among the living. Not in your dreary, windowless life. Nothing could change that. 

You stand there frozen, a deer caught in the lanturn of a hunting party. A pounding of your heart, as well as the dark swell of your gut coming back to life. Why is he here? Why the hell does he have a bouquet of flowers?!

You wish to scream, but you don’t. You have already been caught. 

His eyes look up from where he created a small pile of dirt on the floor. His face coming alight in an instant, pushing himself to full stature from where he once leaned against the wall. Long legs making their way towards you while he suddenly has the decency to hide the bouquet behind his back. 

Annabell certainly did not mention this method of Prince Kim’s seduction. You had never seen him down here before. 

“Hi.” Is all he says once he is finally face to face with you. His face bright and youthful. Excited.

It seems all formalities have been dropped in his mind, though you refuse the notion. 

“Prince Kim.” You simply reply, lowering yourself in a curtsy. 

He pays no mind, almost pretending you never did it in the first place. Instead, he simply rocks back and forth on his heels, bouncing slightly in delight. Wanting something, unable to voice it. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, hoping to end the encounter swiftly to stop all of the prying eyes leering into your being. 

“I brought you something.” His eyes do not break contact with yours once and you can see his hand twitch by his side as if it wants to reach out for something. You're glad he has the decency to hold back, so you shall do the same by pretending you never saw the flowers in the first place. 

You choose not to ask yourself why he brought you a present. It must just be a trick of seduction.

“I am honoured to accept such a thing.” You send a small smile his way, something between real and fake. It seems to make him beam. 

His arm comes out from behind, holding the flowers between both of your bodies. You look down at them, shock written across your features. 

Sure, you had noted them as flowers before. But you think these may be the prettiest ones you’ve seen in your whole life. Petals of orange, white, and purple cloud in your eyes. Stomatas filled with the sweet pollen.

Lilies. All different kinds– ones you’ve never seen before.

They’re out of season, at least you think they are. How did he get these? Why is he giving them to you? Why is he trying to get the butterflies to return? Why is he trying to make your heart explode?

“Prince Kim…” You’re not sure what to say– instead gently reaching out to feel the velvet of a petal. Staring intently at their colours, unable to pull your eyes away. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” His voice is a husk of a whisper, as if you’re the only two in the hallway. As if other maids are not passing, as if they are not staring at the two of you.

“Yes… I… I’m not sure what to say.” It is all so hypnotic. 

“Thank you would be a good beginning, no?” His smile is soft, a light chuckle present in the tone.

You pause, tilting your head to look up at him fully– a large, real smile donning your lips.

“Yes. Thank you.” 

You feel as if you are floating, just as you would when reading those romance books in your late teen years. Like the world has stopped moving save for the prince in front of you slowly passing the flowers into your arms. 

Your hands brush against each other and you feel his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slight. Wishing to grab onto your hand just as he had done the night before. Wishing to insect every line that traces over your fresh once more.

However, he refrains. Allowing his ringed fingers to sink themselves into his pockets.

“I was just going to have them delivered. I’m not really meant to be down here, you know,” His smile is shy, “But I didn’t know your room. That, and I wanted to see you again.” 

You look down, unable to keep the eye contact he presses you for. Prince Kim is too much for you. You don’t understand how he couldn’t be too much for anyone. 

“Oh…” You’re a flush, “Thank you for saying that.” 

“It is nothing to thank me for.” He chuckles, bangs dimming the hues of his eyes, “I’m sure I bored you with all of my ramblings.” 

He did, partly, but that was more discombobulation for the situation and a sense of tiredness creeping into your bones. You shake your head quickly.

“Of course not. I had.. Fun.” Mayhaps fun isn’t the right term, yet there is no word that exactly describes your emotions of last night, nor the ones of today.

“As did I.” His lips are tight in a smile again, feet bouncing on their heels once more. He’s nervous, wants to say something again but isn’t sure how.

You’re not sure how to feel about learning what that habit means. Not sure how to feel about what any of this means. You have not had a moment alone to truly dissect what all of it is. 

“I would love to spend the night talking to you again, if you would allow me.” You don’t think you would love anything more, yet you know you would not be able to function. Would probably make a fool of yourself, too. 

“I-I think it would be best if I were to get some rest… I had not even an hour before I had to start working last night.” 

He frowns, “That’s not good for your health…” He pauses, searching your face for any signs of distress, “Then let's talk in your room. I will only stay until you sleep.” 

You pause, air drifting back into your lungs.

Ah. Right. 

The words of your friend sink in once again, breaking you out of whatever trance he had put you under. Whatever spell he laced through both of your ears to have you singing songs of praises for him and the crown. 

He wants you as a notch in a bedpost. Nothing more. It is clear as day and you are a fool to think anything other than that. This is all just a cleverly rehearsed show. You will not fall victim like your mother. 

All royalty is the same. Use use use. Beat a dead horse until it stops coughing up any sort of reprise. 

Your posture is suddenly tense, fist gripping the flowers so tight your knuckles appear white. 

How dare he think so low of you. How dare he think he might be able to fuck you for nothing. 

“Men are not allowed in the women's private quarters.” Your voice is staunch, though it is not as if he can tell nor cares. 

If he does, he doesn’t show it. 

“Ah,” The lilt is still evident in his tone, the cat playing with the mouse, “But I am not any man, am I?” His body leans a bit closer, pulling his face parallel to your own. Smirk playing on his lips. 

Beauty is a deceptive thing, isn’t it? “When I am king I’ll make it so I can see you whenever we both desire.” Something heats in your gut at those words, yet anger quells it just as fast. 

“It is a shame that you are not King yet, then.” You nod politely in his direction, trying to excuse yourself. Yet your words only seem to excite something in his eyes, lighting a fire behind them. 

“My, I didn’t know you felt that way.” He smiles coy. A flustered sensation overcomes you as you realise the double meaning behind your words. You had made it sound like you wanted him in that way when that could not be farther from the truth.

“I do not.” You state, your voice ice. Though once again, it seems that it does not pierce him. 

“There is no reason to be so cold, Y/n.” He sing songs, tapping one of his long fingers against the side of his head. 

“I am not being cold! You are just not listening.” You sigh in exasperation. Exhaustion and annoyance make you forget yourself, causing your volume to rise just as his own does. This only seems to excite him more. 

“I have heard enough.” He giggles, boyish and what others would describe as cute. Right before you’re able to argue back once again, he cuts in with his own voice once more.

“I will leave you for now. Find a pretty place for the flowers.” 

He smiles generously at you, beginning to walk away, “Have a good night. I’ll see you soon.” 

In your shamble of a disposition, you’re left stuck there. Staring at his back as he retreats down the hallway. 

The shock of everything that had just transpired coming over you all at once. How poorly you had behaved. How you spoke to him. He could have you killed for any one of those things however instead he left you with a bouquet of flowers and a promise for another night. 

You scramble to find yourself, to move yourself from out of the eyeline of every other maid. To make your way to your room, your one sanctuary as quickly as possible. 

It is only when you’re in those walls, hard oak door shut firmly beside you that you have to remind yourself of your promise to your best friend. Remember that the prince fights his battles with words and emotions. 

Your second meeting with the man had left you even more confused than the first. Thousands of questions and emotions real through your bones at a pace your brain can’t manage to understand. Leaves you fuming, trying to form a single coherent thought as you analyse the last two nights with a ferocity unimagined. 

In your state, however, you neglect to think of the one question that should be dancing before you, held on a string just out of reach. 

Why did he know your name? 

It is apparent that since that night, Prince Kim has located which room you find habitance in. 

This morning, another letter has found itself slipped under the base of your door. They have become commonplace now– letters detailing apologies for why he was unable to visit, what he had gone about on his day, his regrets that he has not heard back from you in what feels like ages. 

He’s tried to speak to you a few times in the palace when you work. His eyes always trained on you with something you’re unable to describe when you clean nearby. 

You wish you could say it was perverse in manner, but it was nothing of the sort. 

Every once and awhile you would catch a lily pinned to his breast pocket. He would send you a secret smile whenever it caught your attention. As if it was a tale meant for only the two of you to know. As if he wanted to carry a portion of you with him.

You may be naive in saying so, nor do you have much experience in the matter, but these do not feel like the actions of a man who simply wishes to find home under your dress. These feel more personal. More extravagant than anything else. 

Nevertheless, you ignore every single advance. Annabell made you promise, and it was a promise you were intent on keeping until your dying breath. 

Put the letters away in a box, never to be responded to. Avoided looking at him whenever he was near. Rushed out of rooms when it appeared he was intent on  making his war for you.

Icing out the prince is what is best. Whatever lilies he will wilt and die and you will be able to continue on with your hatred of the Kim family as well as your blood pact with the throne. 

You only wish it was that easy.

“Y/n!! Miss Y/n!!” There is a scramble outside of the door, voices hailing for your presence. You don’t know why– you’re on wash duty. Anyone, unless they’re extraordinarily new, would know that. 

The voice grows more erratic, more panicked. As if their life depends on finding you in that very moment. The other maids in the quarters send their glaces to you, urging you to go yet not one opens their mouths. 

At least one bonus of endenturing your entire life to the palace is that you have grown in rank. More than 10 years has granted you a decent position. 

A hushed sigh slips past your lips and your hands find themselves forcing the pile of sheets into the washing tub. Your hands quickly wipe away at your apron, ridding them of any moisture before pushing open the door. 

Stepping into the hallway lined with stone you notice only a single girl. Her entire form shaking as she paces the hall– panicked. Blonde curls bouncing with every step, cheeks a fluster. 

A new recruit, indeed. Celley is the name she wears. 

She had just entered with the last batch of new maids, starting at the palace no more than 2 months ago. She was a recruit you were unsure of– not having a lick of grace or balance, nor any experience with serving. But you suppose there are many reasons maids are chosen. 

You do not like to think of them.

Her feet are suddenly clamouring over to you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’ve stepped in the hallway. Her small, shaking hands grip your shoulders, holding you with all the will she seems to possess. 

“Excuse me have you seen–” She stops herself, tiny pants pausing as her eyes go wide, “Oh my days! Miss Y/n! You must hurry!” She rushes, hand gripping your wrist as she tries to pull you away. 

Though your face twists in confusion, your feet remain firm. 

“What’s the matter?” You ask, both sympathy and concern entering your frame. You can admonish her later for her lack of manners, however now, the girl seems truly frightened. Her large steel eyes looking back at you, pleading. 

“The crown prince! He’s!” She’s out of breath once again, continuing to try and urge you on.

This time, the second the word prince is muttered, you begin to follow her pace, “He’s lost his mind! He’s going on a firing spree! Locking up anyone who tries to calm him!” 

“What? Why is that? Did something happen?” You ask hushed, urging the girl to keep her voice down. Though you both are similar in age, it is apparent who has experienced this type of thing before. 

“He got into some kind of spat with his father. His instructor was fired when he tried to continue on with their lesson.” It seems she understood your message, continuing to hurry you down the halls. 

“And what am I meant to do?” 

“I-I don’t know!” She lets out a quiet yelp, pulling you closer as you exit the maid hallways and enter the palace ones, “His personal maid is away visiting family. She said to leave everything to you if something were to happen! I-I didn’t know what else to do!” 

Damn Eleanor and everything she stands for. Why the hell did she have to bring your name into this?! Shouldn’t the head maid be called in times like this?! Not you, someone who wants nothing to do with any member of the royal family. Especially the crown prince himself. Sure, there must be rumours spreading around but you had managed nearly three weeks without speaking to him!

You let out a sigh, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to appear more confident, more put together. You will do this, and you will come out victorious. Every battle before has left you victor. What is one more?

“I understand. It will be dealt with.”

The least you can gain is the idyllic picture of the prince to be shattered forever. That would be the most ideal outcome, something to truly force him out of your heart for good. You will not fall prey to him and his earthly desires. He will not win your heart. 

At least that is what you hope. 

The throne room's doors stand before you, delicate lacings of gold worth more than your entire being etched into its surface. A glittering picture for what is sure to be a bloodbath behind its contents. 

A deep inhale of warm air fills your lungs, hand pressing against the door as you force it open. Face someone you have not wanted to see nor extinguish the flames of in nearly a month. 

He stands before you, 20 paces ahead. A broken bottle in his hand as he heaves, shoulders rising and falling with the passion of ten thousand suns. The look of murder in his eyes as he stares down at a maid, her form on the ground. Bowing with as much might as she can possess, looking for any exit possible. Few other maids stand around the room, keeping their heads low, avoiding any eye contact possible. 

Though he looks like a mad man– mayhaps a god of war himself, not a single hair is out of place on his head. He is still the picture of sovereignty. And though your breath spikes, you find that you are not afraid. 

What a strange feeling it is.

The creak of the door sends single to him, has him whipping his head to face you. Anger etched into his features, a new target befalling his sight.

You stand tall, moving towards him. You will rise to the position given to you, even if it shall mean your inevitable downfall. As long as the new staff are safe.

Only, when he looks to you, no wrath is found. No anger or deceit. The second his eyes meet your own, his expression drops along with the bottle in his hands. More glass littering the floor in its wake. 

His eyes soften, his lips turning from a sneer into a gentle frown. His shoulders automatically lower, and suddenly it appears that there is no one else in the room. His legs move automatically, carrying themselves to you with such a hurried pace you would have thought he had seen a long lost friend. 

Oddly, this scares you more than when he was angered. 

You start into a bow, “Prince Kim, I’ve come in place of–” 

His arms wrap themselves around you before you can speak another word. Pulling you in, wrapping you into his scent as you're pressed against his sturdy chest. Strong arms keep you in place as he tries to make his body become one with your own. 

His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, one hand raising to tie itself in your hair. It forces you to stay in place, stay attached to him just the way he wants you to be. Allows him to inhale, breathing in all of you. Finally delving into the scent that he has been craving.

Your eyes only widen, hands staying firm at your side in shock. Heart beginning to race, head becoming lost in the soaps that only a member of a family could possibly own. 

You’re not sure what to do. How to behave. As far as you are concerned or aware, this is something that no other has had happen before. At least not so openly. Not so brazenly in front of a myriad of other people. 

But, it seems to calm him. To placate him in a way you’re not sure anyone could explain. 

You try to make a small twisting motion with your hand, try to urge everyone else to leave while they have the chance. 

They seem to take it, exiting the room as fast as possible. 

You’re sure word of this will spread throughout the castle quickly. You hope the consequences will not be dire. 

“Prince Kim–” You begin to speak after everyone has cleared out, after he holds you for what feels like a lifetime. You can’t find it in you to want him to pull away, no matter how embarrassing this seems. 

“Shh,” He quickly silences you with a gentle press of his lips to your pulse, “Let me stay like this for a moment.” 

You are unable to move. Unable to breathe after he kisses you. War could begin in that very moment and you’re not sure you would have noticed in the slightest. You are stunned into obeying his whim as he simply inhales and exhales. 

The umber in his voice only comes after a millennia, after his shoulders have completely sagged. After all the tension is removed from his body. 

“You didn’t respond to my letters.” He still doesn’t pull away, his grip on your hair tightening a fraction. 

You pause.

“I…I didn’t know where to send them.” You lie and his hand loosens. The correct answer. 

“My study. Put them under the door to my study.” He instructs like a king would. 

You’re not sure why the tone of his voice sends shocks to your gut. Pooling into something you only find in your dreams.

“But if someone were to see them–” 

“Let them.” Mumbles in your ear to you and you alone, a growl practically spiking through his voice, “I want them to know.” 

Oh. This is new. This is definitely new. This is not the same way you felt with the stable boy years ago. This has become something entirely alienating. A completely different beast. You know that now as his baritone voice sends waves straight through your gut. 

You simply nod in reply, your mouth unwilling to say anything back. The arm around your lower back grows more firm.

“Tell me where you will put your replies.” He commands into your ear. 

“Under the door to your study.” Your reply is automatic, years of answering to the kingdom evident in your tone. 

He sighs, unfurling his fingers from your locks to gently pet the top of your head, “Good girl.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, soft as he touches you.

“Good lamb.”

You sigh, fingers deftly searching through your wardrobe for just a single pair of underwear. But once again, you turn up empty. It seems like every day that passes, another pair disappears without your knowledge. 

Perhaps one of the new girls is causing a fuss, messing up the laundry for everyone else. 

That is the only logical solution, at least. 

But logic doesn’t seem to make much sense at all anymore. You couldn’t hope to understand why few of your other belongings have come up indignant as well. 

Your favourite perfume, one of your stuffed animals, even your toothbrush! All have magically vanished from thin air over the course of the last week. 

It is too bad that you haven’t had the time to think about it, either. Preparations for the ball have been raging throughout the palace. Everyone has been on their toes, unwilling to face the wrath of the planners as they try to make everything perfect. 

You have had not one moment alone to think, either swept up in cleaning, decorating, or well… recently you and the prince have been going on walks through the garden at night. Though that doesn’t matter much. It doesn’t mean anything– just another thing he made you promise to. Claiming he wishes to spend as much time with you as he can. 

His recent fixation is trying to get you to call him by his true name. 

You would never dare, nothing is more inappropriate than such a title. It is something only his most beloved is meant to call him, and that person is certainly not you.

You try to force any thoughts of him out of your head, though it is clearly a fruitless endeavour. Especially with the dream you had the night prior. 

His hands finding themselves between your legs, touching you in a way no other has. 

You flush, quickly shaking all thoughts of the night away. 

The tea! Your tea, yes. A prescription from the doctor for this very thing.

More often than not, you wake to find a mess between your thighs. Sticky arousal between them in a perverse fashion. The region sensitive and overstimulated combined with a mess of dreams. More sexual in nature than ever before.

Embarrassed, you had turned to the only person you could trust. The palace staff’s doctor. 

She had told you it was normal– that you were simply having what she described as ‘wet-dreams’. The title alone made you feel embarrassed.

Nevertheless, she prescribed you a tea to help calm your nerves. It was meant to be passifying in nature, calming any lush desires you may have beginning to form. 

You were not sure how it functioned, however you trusted her. Found that it quelled whatever fire burned inside of your heart for the time being. 

Perhaps just a new oddity to add to your reality, you suppose. 

Finally, you find a proper set of undergarments to pull over your legs. Letting out a breath in relief now that you finally have them. 

Today is going to be busier than the last month combined– the ball is tonight. You know for a fact you will be rushed around the palace all day, fixing everything into an acute sense of perfection that only the Kim family is known for. 

You reach to spray your second favourite  perfume across your skin, only to find that the bottle has gone missing as well.

Your hairs stand on edge, a dark pit forming in your stomach.

It is all too strange for you to want to understand. 

Okay, now you’re sure Annabell must be wrong. She has to be, right? There is no other conclusion possible. 

The thoughts run through your head as you pace the small confines of your room. Thumb between your lips, biting the skin feverishly. Contemplating what it is exactly that you should do. A heavy box sitting on your bed, a letter laying next to it along with a single lily.

A month ago, you met Prince Kim in the gardens. A month ago you spoke to him all night long. A month ago he brought you flowers. He has been leaving you letters ever since. Three weeks ago he held you in his arms, made you promise to write him back. Made you promise to meet him in the gardens as many nights as you can. 

But this, you could not accept. You could not possibly think this is real. Why has he gifted you something like this?

A dress lays on your bed. The most gorgeous dress you have ever seen, in fact. Lined with crystals and gems, many layers of tulle poof from the underskirt. It must’ve cost a fortune, but it was not meant for you.  It is a dress meant for a princess, not a simple maid of the palace. Not… Not someone the prince simply wanted to bed. 

So why did it lie here, along with a lace mask and a pair of shoes. Why did it come with a note from the Prince, telling you to put it on for tonight's events? Is this why the head maid dismissed you so early?

No. You could not. You will not make a fool of yourself. You do not belong up there, dressed as a princess when you are far from the thing. That is your decision. It will be the one you stick to.

Even as hours tick past on the clock, even as you can hear the night in full swing, you stay locked in your room. Feeling the same as you did when you were a girl locked in the dungeon all those years ago. Helpless, indignant, stubborn. 

Lost in your thoughts as you try to piece together a puzzle that has several spaces missing. Feelings for the stable boy– life with him, it would have been easier than this. You’re sure of it. 

You allow yourself to imagine what life could have been like if he stayed. It would have been a cosy, peaceful. A straightforward one that didn’t leave so many questions in your head. Jungkook was always like that, spoke his mind without leaving anything to be guessed. You adored it, wished you could revel in it now. Wish you could kiss him under the cherry tree once more.

A pounding wakes you from the dream you were just beginning to weave. Loud, angry knuckles against the firm oak of your door startling you to your feet in an instant. Chills running down your spine as if your body already knew who was behind it. 

You wait too long to reply, another series of rapts following in quick succession. You’re in trouble. You’ve angered the prince in a way you’re not sure you’ll be able to find your way out of, but you have no choice. He knows your inside. You know you must face him. You must be brave.

Right before another series of knocks can echo against the walls, you finally pull the door open. 

There stands the man you knew would be there all along, sculpted like the lord had made him himself. You wish you could behold him properly, to stare at his beauty in the suit specially prepared for this night. One he asked your opinion of several times during its construction.

But you are unable to, not when his shoulders heave like a bull planning its charge. Not when his eyes are narrowed into a glare that enters your soul without consequence. Never before had you felt his anger directed at you. 

The future king would be a fearsome thing. 

“It appears you are not dead.” He states, cold and detached in a way you have never heard before. It makes you feel small, feel weak. Though by now, you know he wants an answer. He will not accept the lack of one from you anymore. 

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, “I suppose not…” 

“Then what do you suppose.” You flinch. You’re not sure.

“I– Prince Kim…” 

“Taehyung.” He interjects, though you ignore him. Only his future wife is meant to call him by that name.

“Prince Kim, I could not possibly accept this gift. You have to understand.” The way he looks at you makes you want to shrink. To appear as small as possible to placate the lion you’ve wondered into the den of. 

“I do not. You are to accept any gift I am to give you.” He is stern as if lecturing the ground beneath him. He looks massive in your tiny room, taking up much more space than you wish to grant him.

You begin to grow frustrated, annoyed. Does he have no sanity? Does he really think it is okay to play with the hearts of women so carelessly? It is disgusting. Repulsive even! You do not deserve anything like this. You begin to grow tense, grow firm like a wolf cornered. Ready to lash out with no remorse. 

That is what you are, anyway. A cornered animal with no hope to escape. 

“I won’t.” You raise your shoulders, stand taller and stare him straight in the eyes. If this will have you sent to the axe then so be it. 

He grows just as tense in reply, his lips forming a sneer as he takes a step closer towards you. 

Never before has Prince Kim been opposed like this before, you’re sure of it. The way his irises become darker is proof. 

“And why is that, lamb?” He mocks, and the fire inside of you only begins to glow brighter Of course, you’re just the lamb that's wandered into the lion's den. The lamb being prepared for meal. 

Steam clouds around your head, jaw becoming tense as you try to hold back your rage. Rage for your mother, rage for the life she was taunted into the same way the prince is trying to do to you now.

“I will not become another woman you bed and then lay waste to!” You practically shout, unable to hold back your emotions anymore. 

His nostrils flare, “Excuse me?” 

“You heard my words.” You state back, indignant, “I will not be an idiot. I will not become another woman who you use for your own pleasures!”

You hear him scoff, head turning away from you for the first time as he looks around your room. 

“You think that little of me?” His eyes make their way back to you, his face having the expression of somewhat… hurt? 

Suddenly, you’re unsure. You feel stupid all over again though you’re not entirely conscious as to why. You hurt him? How could you possibly hurt the most powerful person in the country? 

You falter in your stance, and it is obvious that he takes notice. Uses it to his advantage as he takes another step closer, makes his hand find your own. His thumb brushing soothingly over the knuckle. His hands are always so soft. 

“What else am I meant to think? I’ve heard the stories, Prince Kim.” Where once was fire lays blistering coals. Hot to the touch yet unyielding in their passion. The air in the room has changed in much the same way.

“Tell me of them.” He asks you, his voice now gentle, soft. 

It is strange, the complete change he’s had since first entering your room. Has your brain going a little haywire. Especially with the way he stares at your hands. Like they could be locked forever. 

“I…” You feel flush, embarrassed to mutter the words in front of the prince, “I’ve heard you seduce women… princesses, noblemen’s daughters, maids… the lot. Then you abandon them the next morning with your seed in their core and a knife in their heart.” 

You keep your eyes to your feet, face feeling hot by repeating the words of your friend. You refuse to look at him, you cannot take the embarrassment. 

A light chuckle leaves his lips, a hand coming up to attempt to muffle them, “Sorry, sorry.” He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. You’re baring your soul to him! How dare he laugh! 

He coughs to muffle the rest of the sound, returning to the moment, “I apologise. I just had the realisation. You’re jealous of them, aren’t you lamb?” 

A mess of flutters takes up your stomach, your shoulders raising in alarm. Your lips open to try and form words, to try and deny the allegations made your way, yet you are entirely unable. 

Especially with the way he moves closer, crowds your space with such ease. Leads close to you, whispers words in your ear, voice lower than before. 

“You wish it to just be you I lay with, is that so?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice as another, more erotic chill finds its way down your spine. 

“Th-That isn’t–” You try to speak, but your voice sounds as light as air. He moves closer, arm carrying itself around your back, pulling you flush against him as he speaks sinful words. Words only for you. 

“Ah…” He sighs in relief, lips practically touching your ear once you’re finally connected to him, “You don’t like it when I go fuck your friends then come to spend my nights talking to you… writing to you… touching myself to the thought of you.” 

You cannot take it. You cannot take this, take him. Your head is spinning, clouding with the drug known as Prince Kim. Your knees feel weak, your limbs feel all too heavy. How can someone so pretty say such sinful words without a second thought. It’s too much. Far more than your poor little heart can take.

Your arms come up, press as firm as they can against his chest despite how weak they feel.

“Mmm…?” He asks in response, pulling back to look down on your face. Mock confusion spread across his features. He takes a step back, pretending to look you up and down. Like he is just playing a game of poker while all of your tells are as clear as day. 

“Or is that not what you wish?” He asks, head tilted to the side like a confused puppy, “You would like things to remain the same?” He smiles, drawing conclusions all on his own. 

He pauses, waits for you to say something, anything before continuing. But you do not, so he will keep playing this game by himself. 

“Then I shall go find someone to keep me company for the night. Mmm..” He taps his chin in contemplation, turning on his heels, meanwhile panic and dread fills every facet of your being, “What were those ones you’re friends with again? Celley? That pretty blonde? Oh, or maybe Annabell. I’m sure she would be prepared to go for a second round.” 

What? What? No, No! What is he talking about? Why is he starting to walk away?! Wait, Annabell, second time?! She has before?! 

Oh heavens, oh gods. 

“Anyway, I'll be sure to write to you after. Have a good night, dream of me.” You begin to hyperventilate as he takes one step out the door. No, he can’t leave. You don’t want him to. You don’t want him to be with anybody else. You can’t let it happen. You can’t afford such a thing! Ever! That is not where he is meant to be! 

Your body carries you before your mind does. Hand slipping out, gripping onto the back of his coat with all of the strength you can muster. Feet planted firm in your room, doing everything in your power to not let him leave.  

It is really too bad you do not see the sick smile that forms on his lips. Maybe then the pieces of the puzzle would have finally clicked in place. 

Instead he only tilts his head backwards, painting a complexion of boredom.

“N-No! I don’t want that!” You finally manage to stutter out, knuckles turning white with the strength you hold onto him. Afraid if you let go in the slightest he will pull away and disappear forever. “I don’t want you to be with other women!”

The silence that follows your confession feels a mile long. 

“Then go put on the dress.” Out of any response there could be, that certainly was not the one you were anticipating. 

“What…?” 

His chin tilts in the direction of it, urging you on, “If that is the truth, then go put on the dress.” 

“I…” You hesitate for only a moment, but scramble to motion once the prince turns to leave once again. 

You make quick paces to your bed, keeping your back to him. You feel his eyes on your back, intent on giving you no privacy to ensure you follow through on his order. 

In fact, all he does is close the door behind you. Making sure no one will be able to see in. No one will be able to watch you save for him. 

You slowly peel off the cotton of your nightgown, trying to appear brave even though his eyes are trained on your form. Even if your slip still remains on, you have never been this uncovered in front of a man before. You feel entirely bare. 

You do not look at him as you finally find your way through the tool, slipping the garment over your head with struggle, yet his face is practically predatory. 

You don’t know his plans, or what he wishes to gain. You never do. 

As the fabric settles over your hips, half of you wants to question how the size is perfect, but you refrain. Too embarrassed by everything else to even consider it an option. Your hands reach behind you to attempt to lace up the back on your own, yet another pair are already present in their place.

When did he get so close? How did he get so close without you hearing a thing? Your heartbeat must be the only sound in your ears, that must be it. 

His fingers work down your spine, tightening the dress so it fits you perfectly. Tying it off with skill you did not know he had. You feel his breath on the back of your neck. A fire begins to grow in your core. 

“I was going to present you to my father tonight.” He admits, placing a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, “The ball was meant to find my bride.” 

“Oh.” Those are the only words you can say when he is so close, arms enclosing around your waist. Pulling your back flush with his chest. 

Only words you can manage at the revelation.

“Imagine his disappointment, more so my own when the girl I had been speaking to him about did not show.” He grunts, almost as if it hurt him. Guiding your body to stand in front of the full mirror in your room. Asking– telling you to look at yourself. 

The sight is strange, yet incredible. The crown prince of the entire nation standing in your bedroom, in the maids quarters. Surrounded by squalor and chaos. Arms wrapped around a maid dressed as if she could be a queen. 

You look up at him to the best of your ability, regret plastered across your features, “Prince Kim–” 

“Taehyung.” 

“--I’m so sorry.” He does not look you in the eyes. They stay trained ahead, not straying once from the mirror. One hand rubbing small circles into the fabric covering your stomach, the other sliding to your waist.

He touches you without care, without reason. Feeling you against him for all that it is worth. 

“Actions have consequences, that is all. They can come later.” He states plainly, “For now I just wish to indulge in you.”

He brings his face down, placing it right next to yours. His hand rises, making your chin face the mirror as well. 

He forces you to make eye contact with him through it, forces you to understand each of his words clearly. 

“You’ll let me do that, won’t you?” 

You take a deep breath, gulping down all the air you can manage. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more. 

With no more than a nod, his lips are on yours. 

Spinning you around, pressing your back against the mirror. His hands cupping your cheeks with such intensity you fear they may become etched into your skin forever. Keeping your lips closed against his own. 

His body cages you in, pressing entirely against you. Forming against you in perfect harmony, feeling two souls become one. Feeling each other fully for the first time– no pretence or public eye in the way to stop it. 

His teeth nip at your lower lip, biting in a way that has you opening them in pain. He takes the opportunity to lick his way inside, somehow pushing even closer to your body. 

Something hard presses against you and the discovery has your knees wishing to collapse. 

The prince can’t possibly be this big. He simply can’t.

The kiss has you reeling, unsure of anything. Unsure of what to do at all. It is nothing like your first kiss under the cherry tree with Jungkook. That was soft and sweet, docile as two people discover something new.

This, this is nothing of the sort. It is hungry. It is a beast that has been starved, finally getting its first meal. It is intoxicating. It is needy and desperate in a way that has your fingers trying to press themselves even deeper into the glass. It has your breath being robbed. Your lifeforce wilts away to satisfy only the prince. 

The groan he lets out as you finally give into him, finally allow him to take control of the kiss as arousal pools in your gut. It is one of the most deadly siren’s calls you think you’ve ever heard. One that would have any woman throwing themselves overboard for just a taste. 

“Finally,” He grunts, pulling no more than a millilitre away from your lips, wetness still connecting them, “My whole life I’ve been waiting for you.” He mumbles, hungrily connecting his mouth back to your own. 

Before you know it, you’re lost in the man once again. Allowing him to move you, to guide you to your bed without withdrawing from you once. Tangling your fingers into his hair, trying to make sure he doesn’t pull away. Making you drunk off of his taste, off of him. 

When he kisses you like this, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to live without him. 

Your knees hit the frame of your bed and all of a sudden you're falling backwards onto its plush lining. Panting, trying to regain some of the air he stole from you.

For the first time you’re able to look up at him, to discover the mess that he has become. Cheeks red, lips swollen. Eyes dark and twisted with lust. Hair ruffled messily from where your fingers laid. Shoulders rising and falling with effort as he catches his breath as well. 

He looks gorgeous and you can’t help yourself hoping this will be only a sight for you forever. 

He leans down, pecking your lips once more, “I couldn’t stop myself from imagining this. Since the moment I placed an order for your dress.” 

He huffs, dropping to his knees in front of you. You sit up on your elbows, face twisted into confusion as you look down at him. 

God. It is too dangerous to look at him right now. You know that as another wave of heat runs straight to your core.

“Pushing up the future queen's skirt.” He groans, hands gaining purchase on your hips, pulling you down so your waist sits at the edge of the bed, “Letting myself have a taste of her while everyone else at the party danced.” 

O-Oh. Oh. He sees you as, oh god. 

His fingers bunch in the material of your skirt, drawing in a shaky inhale as he holds onto any drop of sanity left. 

When he sees no hesitation from you, he slowly begins to push the material up your legs. Eyes trained on your own, looking to you for any sign of discomfort. 

“Have her come undone on my tongue while no else was the wiser.” He groans as he finally comes face to face with your panty covered core. 

Your brain moves at a snail's pace, trying to keep up with every tiny movement the prince makes. Trying to process his words while your head becomes fuzzy with your own arousal. 

You feel like mush, so pliable in his grip.

His large hands slowly begin to part your thighs, to look at what he has been craving for so long when your brain catches up with you, embarrassment overcoming your being. 

“Y-You can’t! I-it is dirty to do such a thing.” At least, that is what you had been taught. Though, the look in his eyes and the growl from his throat tells you the opposite.

“You could never be dirty. No part of you could ever be.” The sound he lets out is more akin to an animal than anything else, and suddenly you feel like a schoolgirl. Flustered and embarrassed beyond anything else. 

The muscles of your thighs untense, the look on your face blushed and biting. 

“You will let me?” He asks again, and despite your embarrassment, you nod. He is going to be king… his word is rule afterall. He wishes it, so it will happen. You could not be more pleased to oblige. 

His grip on your thighs is more firm than before, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he pries your legs apart. He lets a groan resonate from the back of his throat at the sight. Panties sticking to your center, wetness pooling just behind causing the material to almost become transparent before him. 

You did not know it was possible for a man to have such an effect on you. 

Without a second thought, he pushes the material down your thighs. His tongue licking a long stripe up your cunt, savouring the flavour for every cent it is worth. 

He moans at the taste, not wasting a second before he dives back in. Lapping against you like it is his last meal. 

A mewl leaves your lips, too many feelings crossing you at once for any of them to be worth anything. 

Embarrassment, shame, fear all vanish the moment his lips wrap around your clit, sucking against the small bundle of nerves in a manner that has your back arching against the bed. Fingertips digging into the sheets to find a second lease on life. 

You try to look down at him, to find him between all of your small pants of pleasure, however he is gone. Disappearing until the layers of fabric while he brings you sensations you never thought were possible. 

His tongue moves like it is made to pleasure only you. Taking turns flicking your clit to lowering into your center. Licking up any bit of arousal he can make out. Trailing up once again to press flat against the bundle of nerves.

All of it has your legs kicking, your breath melting. 

He is not quiet either, letting you know exactly how much he adores this. Adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped tight around his head. Adores every little sound and reaction you have to give him. Adores the taste of you on his tongue. It was only meant for him.

It feels like he has been wishing to do this far longer than you would ever know. Consuming you whole from the inside out. Causing you to become addicted, to desire him just as much as he carnally craves you.

His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as your hips begin to rock against his face, seeking out every ounce of pleasure that he is willing to give you. Your adorable mewls and whines grow louder, peaking every time he sucks on your clit. 

A coil has begun to form in your gut, feeling as though it could snap at any second. You wish you could see him, to look at his face and see the crazed gleam in his eyes. Observe the exact look on his face as he licks your cunt. 

You try to picture it. Try to imagine the way he would look up at you from between your legs. The dark umber his eyes would become, the gentle circles he would rub into your thigh as you finally make eye contact. 

Your walls clench around his tongue, sending a new waves of whines out of your mouth. He somehow moves faster, more precisely with every movement. Like he is able to hone in on the exact things that have your thighs quivering. 

His tongue moves up, takes your small, worn clit into his mouth. Alternating between sucking against it, flicking at it, and pressing against it firm with the flat of his tongue. 

Without warning, nor any reprise, one of his thick fingers is thrust into your wet heat. Filling you in a way you have never been able to do to yourself. Stretching you. And all of a sudden, you’re flying off the edge of a precipice.

“Prince Kim!” Your back arches off of the bed, head thrown back against the mattress as you let out a moan. Your hips jolt, cunt squeezing around his fingers, heels digging into the floor as you come undone before him. 

He works you through it with ease and grace, finger slowly thrusting in and out. Tongue firmly planted against your clit to ride you through your high. 

It would not be your last of the night. He must be gentle. 

Slowly, you relax against the bed, chest heaving from exertion. He pulls away from you, standing to full height before leaning over your shaking form. 

Your arousal coats his face, a sheen from his lips and chin evident against the soft yellow glow of the room. He looks down at you, concern and adoration written across his features. Though in his eyes, it appears that the beast has yet to be quelled. 

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You taste yourself against them. 

“You are delicious. I wish to eat you every night until I die.” He mumbles against your lips, his knee sliding between your legs. Muscle pressing against your swollen cunt. 

You try to flinch away, yet the hand on your hip keeps you in place. 

He will not have you running away. 

Not now. 

Your cheeks flush at his words, wide eyes looking up at him like he is all that matters. 

He is. 

He presses his knee further against your pussy while his lips trail down the column of your neck. Urging you towards the headboard with no words spoken until your head is against the pillows. 

Your arms wind their way around his neck, keeping him in place, “I-if we were married, I would let you.” You manage to speak, your voice shaky.

He only smiles in reply. Fingers digging deeper into your waist as if he is holding himself back.

“Then we shall call this practice for our wedding night.” He smiles, sitting back on his heels. 

Marriage, wedding night. You allow the thought to ghost through your mind, willing it to be reality. 

He smiles down at you, taking note in the way you seem to gleam at the idea. A small chuckle leaves his lips, you really are too cute for your own good. 

His voice is no more than a whisper, forcing you to stay enrapt, “You will let me, right?” He asks, eyes glancing down to where his pants strain against his hips, “I wish to make love to my future wife.”

Your mouth practically waters at the sight, his hard cock pressed taught against the expensive material. You swear there may even be a wet spot where his cum has leaked through. 

Your pussy clenches, wanting nothing more for him to find his way inside. For him to claim you for himself. Destroy you so no other man can have you in the same way.

You struggle against yourself for no more than a moment, but the way his hand reaches down, grips at his cock. Brushes his thumb over the surface has you moaning in want. 

“Please.” 

He smiles, the motion following swift. All at once his hands unbutton his pants, pushing the material down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring free. He groans at the feeling, thick length hitting his stomach. Pretty pre-cum dripping down the side.

Your eyes go wide. If you imagined him to be large before, seeing it now looked impossible. He is thick, long. Far too big to ever hope to fit inside of you. 

But the desperate groan in his voice, the hungry look in his eyes only has you spreading your legs. Wishing nothing more than for him to destroy you.

One hand wraps around the base as he moves closer, the other forcing the skirt of your dress as high as it will allow. He makes space for himself in between your thighs, slotting himself in. Ready to do what he has been waiting years for. 

Not yet.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the worry. So he leans down, planting a gentle, soothing kiss to your lips. One filled with years of time behind it. 

He knows he must be careful with you. Knows all of his patience will have been worth it when he is finally able to take your virginity. 

“Will it hurt?” You as quietly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close. You find comfort in him. Find a sense of safety within his eyes. 

He nods in response, “Only for a little while, I promise.” He mumbles against your lips, placing a soft kiss against them once more. 

He slowly rubs the fat head between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your hips buck slightly in response, and he can’t help but smirk. 

So sensitive. So ready for him. 

As much as he wants to be rough, he can’t. He can’t scare you away just yet. 

He looks into your eyes once more, “Ready?” He asks, giving you one final chance to back out. You only nod your head, pulling him close, hiding your face in his neck. 

His head catches on your opening with the final drag of his length through your lips. His hands practically shake in excitement, as he guides himself inside. Letting go only once the tip is buried within your walls. 

He feels your teeth sink into his coat, your body burning with the stretch of him. He only has the first inch inside, yet you think it is more than you could possibly take. 

A choked cry leaves your lips as he continues to slowly thrust inside. Your arms cling to him as tight as possible. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as he fills you, forming your entire body just around him. Just around his cock. 

He pauses only once half of his cock is buried in your needy cunt. You feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, to bring you back down to reality from the pain you feel digging at your core. Trying to bring you some sense of comfort. 

You pull back from his shoulder to look him in the eyes, expecting to see them soft. Filled with concern. Though there is nothing of the sort there. 

Behind his bangs is only the look of pure insanity. 

Though he tries to be compassionate, he really does.

“Are you doing okay?” His voice is strangled, coming out in only desperate cracks. He shakes, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself inside. Fuck himself deeper and deeper, until your cunt is shaped for his cock alone.

But he holds restraint. Just enough.

The way he looks at you, the way he speaks has a wave of pleasure rushing through your  skin. Your walls clamp around him, tightening even more. 

He is falling apart before you, because of you. 

He has gone mad because of you.

The feeling only makes you want to urge him on. See just how far the prince can fall.

You nod your head, looking at him with all the affections in the world, “Don’t stop.” 

He groans at your words, mind losing itself as he snaps his hips forward, forcing his cock inside until his hips are firm against your own. Teeth digging into the fragile skin of your neck.

You cry out in pain, your walls squeezing around him in shock. Pain coursing through your entire system as you are filled to the brim. Walls stretched as wide as humanly possible. The head of cock so deep inside you swear you can feel it in your lungs. 

“Shit.” He groans, mouth falling open, “This pretty thing is wrapped around me so tight, lamb. So fucking tight I can’t think.” 

He slowly tries to move his hips, though you only shout in response. Your legs wrap around his back, doing their utmost to keep him in place.

“Hurts!” You whine, shaking your head quickly. 

Fucking hell. What is the point of a pussy as sweet as your own if he can’t use it properly?

His hand moves between your legs, growl of impatience slipping past his lips as his fingers find your clit. They work with urgency, with need. Rubbing tight circles into it, trying to get you to feel the same pleasure he does.

You whine, overstimulated. Shots fired in all directions leaving you messy and confused. 

With every circle, a mewl sounds from your throat. Slowly your legs behind him loosen, the pain from before mixing with pleasure to become something wonderful. Something that has you whimpering for him to not stop. 

“See?” He grunts, slowly slipping out of your heat until only the tip remains, “We were made for each other.” 

He forces his cock back inside, fucking you open just for him. Only ever for him. 

Your nails dig into his back, heels digging into the mattress as you moan for him. As your cunt becomes addicted to the feeling of him filling you so perfectly. Addicted to everything he has to offer.

He moves too fast, too hard for you to even hope to keep up with. Hips pistoning into you, forcing you to take everything he has to give and more. Forcing you to be the perfect little doll for him, give him all the pleasure he can want and more. White mixing with red around the base of his cock.

Your back arches off the mattress to try and get closer to him, to try and keep up with him in any hope of the sentiment. Hips trying their best to keep him as close and as deep as possible, knowing they crave one thing and one thing alone.

“Prince Kim!” You moan, yet he growls in response. A sharp slap to your thigh sounds throughout the room as his hips pause, fingers removing themselves from your clit. 

“That isn’t my name to you anymore.” His voice is low, menacing in your ear. One more poke of the bear and you will be punished. “Tae–Hyung.” 

He emphasises the words with a sharp thrust of his hips, one that brushes against the bundle inside of you. One that leaves you crying out for him. Clinging on to him. 

“Say it.” He grunts, animalistic and desperate. Yet you’re too lost in yourself to realise how debauched he’s become. Looking less and less like a man, more like a demon come to lay waste to your soul. 

That is close enough to the truth, anyway.

“Say it until it becomes the only word you know. Every question I ask, every time I fuck myself into this sweet little cunt. Your only reply should be my name.” He grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at him. 

Your fucked out little features as you bob your head in compliance.

“I-I” You swallow, trying to understand his words as he pounds away at your core, “I understand!” 

He smiles, almost proud of the work he has done today.

His hips only move impossibly faster, impossibly harder in a way that has that knot in your gut tightening once more. 

“We’ll start simple then. What is my name?” He asks, angling his hips to press against your sweet spot with ever slight movement. Breathe panting, his mind falling deeper and deeper into the thralls of your body. 

“P-Prin–” You stop yourself, a pinch coming down on your skin, “Taehyung!” 

He groans, almost coming undone as he hears your name fall from your  lips for the very first time. The pretty sound your voice makes with every letter. 

It could be the only thing he hears for the rest of his life.

“Who are you going to marry?” 

You whine, your head thrashing around slightly. He smiles. You must really enjoy the idea of that, huh?

“T-Taehyung!” You manage to stutter out again, feeling your release coming closer and closer as the seconds pass by. 

“Who is the man you have fallen for?” The answer to the question is easy, especially when he is fucking into you like you’re the only woman that matters. Nothing matters except for him. 

“Taehyung!” Your brain is too fuzzy to process anything else. Anything other than the way his cock fills you. Anything other than the one word he told you is your gospel. 

“Who is the boy that kissed you under the cherry tree?” You don’t even know anymore. 

Does any man exist beside Taehyung anyway? You doubt it.

“Taehyung!” He smiles into your neck. 

“Who was the boy that was going to have you killed? That saved your life?” His words don’t process through your ears, yet you know what you are meant to say anyway.

“Taehyung!” He groans, his hips stuttering, losing their pace ever so slightly. 

“Who do you belong to?” 

“Taehyung!” You whine, your thighs shaking. The coil so tight you think you may just die if it doesn’t come undone in this very moment. 

His breath is quiet, only a rough whisper in your ear, “Cum.” 

Just as your king commands, you fall apart around him. White dots in the corner of your eyes as you clamp down around him, your legs pulling him close. A cry of his name leaving your lungs as if it is the very air you breathe. 

You feel him paint the inside of your walls white, his hips stuttering– fucking himself as deep into you as he could possibly manage. If you had any sense left in your little head you would have told him to pull out, yet your brain is so high. Filled with pleasure that only Taehyung can provide. 

Waves of arousal crash around you as he slows his hips, ensuring that you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before pulling away. You wish he could stay buried inside of you, just like that. Yet you doubt that would be very wise. 

“Was that good for you, little lamb?” He asks, slowly helping you into a sit. You’re not sure how to properly answer– mouth feeling dry. Your head has not yet come crashing back down, though that is probably a good thing. 

Facing reality is too scary right now. Especially when Taehyung is so warm. So caring as he removes your dress. Slips your nightgown back over your soiled body. 

“Very…” You nod, unable to take your eyes off of him as he moves around the bed. Tucking himself back into his pants, removing his shirt and dress-coat. Placing them over the back of a chair. Neatly hanging the dress on a hook, taking care that it is not damaged in any way.

Your arms find themselves reaching out to him, trying to pull him closer to you. He smiles once he takes notice.

“Would you like me to stay the night?” It is clear he was already planning on it, but hearing the words make you smile oh-so bright. 

“Yes, please.” You nod quickly, eyes already feeling tired. You did not know how he had so much energy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Right now he is meant to be in your bed, arms around you. In fact, you become annoyed that he isn’t already. 

“Alright.” He smiles, slipping next to your form. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible.

You feel so safe. So warm with him. So protected that you can’t stop yourself from falling asleep.

“Goodnight my lamb.”

The Kim Empire. 

His home, his family, his livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

Yet, the only thoughts that seem to brandish his mind since the young age of 15 are about you. 

When you first stumbled in front of him, carrying a tray of tea. Spilling it all over his shoes. That quick curse that left your lips before looking up at him. The wide, doelike vision you had once recognition had set in. One the realisation of error set into your bones.

He will never forget the way his heart began to race in that very moment. The way he felt a cloth of sickness overcome his whole body at the mere sight of you. Looking so serendipitous below him.

At first he thought it was hate, how silly he had been back then. Ah, the way he sent you to be killed was just funny to him now. He is grateful he talked to his mother before your execution date. Spilling his soul to her, detailing how he could not seem to remove you from his brain.

Ah, he was lucky he managed to get the letter to the executioner in time. What a pity that would be if he couldn’t. Then he wouldn’t have been able to lay next to you now. Wouldn’t be able to play with your hair, caress you like he pleases. 

It is truly too bad that was not his only trial on the road towards you. It was really a pity he had to send Jungkook away. Taehyung quite liked the kid. He was fun to play with and wouldn’t shy away from his games. 

But he just had to try and seduce you. Poor thing. You really were too innocent at the time. More than eager to kiss him for no reason. To give him even a peace of your heart that was meant for Taehyung alone.

He remembers as clear as day, the rage he felt as he watched your soft lips press against another mans. How terribly he wanted to go out and strike Jungkook with a sword. Of course he didn’t though, that would have scared you away. He would have hated that.

He thanks god every day he was really your first kiss, even if you didn’t know it. 

Patiences was the hardest battle of all, and he will admit, he has faltered a few times over the years. Kisses stolen while you sleep, a few of your belongings robbed to keep him satiated. Mayhaps a few trips to your room in the night. 

But who could blame him? He was a man in love. There was nothing that could stop him when he was so hungry for you. 

Ah, and then of course his father. He wanted to separate your love as well. A maid could never possibly be suited to be queen, blah blah. He doesn’t care. And at least that fight allowed him to hug you for the first time. 

God. You felt so perfect in his arms, then and now. You have always been meant for this. Meant for him.

If his father plans to keep standing in the way, he will simply have to remove him from the equation. His bonds to the man are as thick as water. He cares more for you than he possibly could anyone else.

You’ve belonged to him since you were born, anyway. If a maid becomes pregnant while working for the castle, her child becomes property of the state. Of the crown. Of him. 

It only makes sense that you are meant to be with him until death. It is the path lined for you. Your fate since birth. 

He knows it as his delicate fingers trace over the small patches of blood dirtying the sheets. Evidence of the hours before, of your virginity robbed. Of your promises to him.

You are bound to him by blood after all.

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

#taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #bts x reader #bts smut #bts #taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung x y/n #bts reactions #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #taehyung fic #kim taehyung #bangtan #bangtan x reader #bangtan smut #yandere taehyung #yandere bts

[seonghrtz]

𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 ✶ geto suguru

꒰ daylight ! ꒱ geto suguru, a powerful fairy who has had his wings taken from him, finds himself falling in love with the girl who has been cursed by his mother.

❛❛ if you're kind, you might discover something extraordinary you can do ❜❜

pairing. fairy!geto suguru x (aurora)fem!reader.

contents. maleficent universe, fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, forbidden love (?), he fell first he fell harder, royal!au, slight age gap (geto is 4 y.o older than reader), mentions of death, maleficent is geto's mom, ooc geto.

amy's note. hi sweetie, this is amy!!! i was so excited to write this one in particular. i love geto so much, and i think he deserves more, but since we are talking about him, it will obviously have a little angst, but with lots of cute and happy moments. i think geto is the one who best fits the whole aesthetic of maleficent, and here we are!!! i hope you enjoy it and have a good read <3

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

𝕺𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, there was a vast enchanted forest called the Moors. This forest existed a long time ago, even before humans settled within its borders, and it was home to countless magical creatures who lived free. Creatures that humans had never dreamed could exist. They all had their uniqueness and strangeness, and even though they were from different species, they lived in harmony with each other ⸻ something that sometimes even members of the same species could not do. The Moors were neither a kingdom nor a dynasty. Hierarchy was unknown among its inhabitants, everyone was equal (even with their differences). However, the forest had its guardians, the fairies. Fairies, specifically forest fairies, were powerful beings who served as protectors of the forests. They were responsible for keeping the Pillar of Harmony intact and protecting the forest from those with evil and malicious intentions.

When the first humans established their kingdom near the edge of the forest, the relationship between them and the inhabitants of the Moors was one of the best ⸻ which seemed surprising. Curiosity ran through both worlds, which were close but different in many ways. However, as the years went by, this friendly relationship seemed to become more unstable and fragile.

Until the fateful day when Moors lost his guardian to human greed.

Stefan, the young prince of the human kingdom, had greed and selfishness in his heart when he tried to dream that one day he could control the Moors as well as his own kingdom. But things didn't go according to plan and it backfired.

On a frosty dawn, Stefan and a few guards set out on a mission to capture the wings of the Moors' guardian fairy, imprison her, and finally take over the forest. Not as discreet as they should have been, they entered the forest before dawn, armed and determined. Things began to go wrong when, instead of capturing the guardian fairy, they first captured her four-year-old son, Geto Suguru.

The little fairy boy, who was absent-mindedly wandering through the forest, watching the day creatures rest while the night creatures went on with their lives, didn't notice the humans approaching with their evil intentions, and the next thing he knew, he was grabbed by the arms. The boy whimpered and cried, trying desperately to free himself from the arms that were twice his size and stronger than his frail frame. Geto let out an agonizing scream as he felt the metal chains wrapped around the beginning of his wings. The pain and burning made the boy choke on his screams and tears, which mingled into a painful sound.

Once Stefan had gained the wings of the helpless child, he pursued his ambition to gain the wings of the Guardian of the Moors. Geto was thrown to the side, writhing in pain and crying for his lost wings. The pain seemed unbearable. Not just the physical pain, but the pain of knowing that he could no longer fly, that he would never touch the sky again. His freedom in the sky, where no one could reach him, had been taken from him when he was still a helpless child.

"My son..." Geto heard his mother's voice and her footsteps approaching his slumped body. "My dear son... what have they done to you?"

"There you are, Guardian of the Moors." Stefan spat out the words with contempt.

"Young Prince Stefan of the realm of men..." the fairy said, trying to control her anger, "Give my son back his wings!”

"If you give me yours, I might think about returning his... if I don't take them for myself in the future."

"You will regret this moment." The woman's hand closed tightly on her staff.

"And why would I regret it? You're a freak!"

"Your wife is pregnant with a beautiful baby girl who is about to be born, and in a few months, if not weeks, you will take over your human kingdom... it would be a shame to have something as precious as your daughter taken away from you."

"How do you know that, you witch?!" the man shouted angrily.

"Listen, everyone," the fairy said, drawing everyone's attention as a green spell emanated from her, "The princess will indeed grow up with grace and beauty and be loved by those who know her, but at sunset on her eighteenth birthday, she will stick her finger through the spindle of a spinning wheel and then fall into the deep sleep of death! A sleep from which she will never awaken unless awakened by a kiss of true love! And this curse will last forever, no power on earth can change it!"

"How dare you curse my daughter, barely born!" Stefan drew his sword from its sheath and positioned himself to attack the guardian.

"And how dare you rip my son's wings off and think you'd get away with it!"

Geto's eyes blurred with tears and an unbearable pain in his back as he watched his mother fight the future king. The little boy couldn't keep up with what was happening, his head was spinning and the only thing he could see was his mother's last breaths as she was caught off guard at a clear disadvantage in the unfair fight. As his mother fell to her knees, he felt the earth tremble and huge thorns grow larger along the edges of the Moors. Frightened, and not knowing what those giant thorns were, Stefan and his companions fled with Geto's wings, happy that they had killed the guardian of Moors and won her son's wings. Without enough strength, the boy crawled over to his mother's fallen body. He rocked the woman from side to side, trying to wake her, but his actions seemed to be in vain. His mother's heartbeat could no longer be heard. With a tightness in his chest, Geto lay down on his mother's lifeless body and cried himself unconscious.

Deep down, he wished this was all just a nightmare that would end the next day. And he would live happily ever after with his mother.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

With the Wall of Thorns, Moors was protected from any threat from humans or any other creature that tried to take over the forest. Geto thought that time would make him forget that tragic night in his life, but he couldn't have been more wrong. But time only helped him develop a dislike for humans and their arrogance and greed. Time helped Geto work hard to train his powers and learn to live without his wings. Even at the age of eight, he had incredible abilities that might have taken longer to learn.

The sun was rising in the east, and while the nocturnal creatures went to their shelters, the daytime creatures awoke to the sun's rays and began their day. Little Suguru, eight years old, followed the forest path to a lake he always went to in the morning. Ever since he was a baby, his mother had taken him to the pond to pick some of the plants that grew around the edge of the pond. It was a little routine that kept his mother's memory alive.

Geto just didn't expect to be followed that morning.

"Who's there?" The boy turned when he heard the hurried footsteps, but there was no one there. He returned to his destination, but the footsteps followed him again, "Whoever it is, I don't want to play!" A low chuckle echoed through the room, causing Geto to roll his eyes. With an idea in his head, he started on his way again. When the one following him was least expecting it, Suguru quickly turned around to see a little girl half his age fall to the ground, startled by the boy's sudden movement, "What do you think you're doing following me?" Geto crossed his arms in front of him, but all he got in return was a giggle.

Geto watched the little girl sitting on the ground. She didn't seem to belong to any of the species that sheltered in the Moors. She resembled Geto physically, but she didn't have wings or a pair of horns.

"Why do you have horns?" the little girl asked with a smile. She stood up, slapped her hand on her baby blue dress, brushed the dirt off it, and stared at the boy in front of her.

"Because I'm a fairy." Geto rolled his eyes and returned to his morning chores, "Now leave me alone!"

"My fairy aunts don't have horns!" The little girl followed Geto with light footsteps.

"That means we are a different kind of fairy."

"Wow! There's more than one kind of fairy?" the little girl smiled, "I'd like to be a fairy!"

"And why would you like to be a fairy?" asked Geto curiously.

"Because you have magic powers! And some fairies can fly too!" she said, her eyes shining, "I can't do anything interesting or unique, even though my fairy aunts keep telling me I'm a princess, whatever that means, I don't have anything extraordinary about me..."

"If you're kind, you might discover something extraordinary you can do."

"Can I... can I touch your horns?" The little girl asked.

"Um, just once!" Geto leaned down a bit so that the little one could touch his horns.

Geto thought that this little interaction would end right there, and that he would never see this little girl again in the vast forest. He just didn't expect her to come down to the lake with him every morning to talk about anything and everything.

Her presence could fill the boy's loneliness.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

When that little girl told him there was nothing extraordinary about her, Geto was absolutely sure it was a lie. And he seemed to prove it with every passing year. And the passing years never scared Geto, but perhaps his feelings were the only things that could scare him.

Within a few months, the presence of the little human at his side had become commonplace. It was difficult to spend any time apart. They had become inseparable best friends. They were always running around in the forest, playing with each other and with the other creatures that lived there. And from time to time, the girl even helped Geto practice controlling his magic. They shared stories and secrets.

And there was only one secret that he had never shared with her...

Every day, Geto Suguru fell more and more in love with that gentle, delicate human being.

Geto didn't know when he fell in love, for him there was no right moment, he just fell in love. And maybe his feelings were the biggest problem. They couldn't be together, not when they were from different species, or when she was the child his own mother had cursed before she died ⸻ a fact that wasn't hard to discover. The young fairy would have to suppress his feelings and accept that they could never be together in this universe. However, Geto decided to enjoy every minute of his friendship with the human who had stolen his heart until her eighteenth birthday, when she would return to her home ⸻ the human kingdom.

"It's a very nice gift, I'm sure she'll like it," said Dival, the shape-shifter who had been rescued by Geto's mother and had since become the advisor and right hand of the Guardians of the Moors ⸻ and who had also advised Geto in his training.

"It's just a souvenir..." Geto sighed, looking at the amethyst necklace he had made.

"You should tell her your romantic feelings for her..." Dival watched the quick movements of the boy's chest.

"I can't do that, Dival"

"Why not?"

"First of all, she is a princess. Just as I have my responsibilities as the guardian of the Moors, she has hers as the future ruler of the human kingdom. Besides, we're different species. You know how humans treat anything that is different by their standards. Not to mention that we're just friends, that's how she sees me and will always see me..."

"And all this keeps you from being happy in love?" Dival crossed his arms.

"These things aren't as easy as they seem..." Geto sighed softly, "Especially when your feelings aren't reciprocated.

"You should definitely get rid of this idea of unrequited love. She likes you! You can see how she looks at you and how she treats you!"

"It is not like that! She's just kind to me, like she is to all beings. I don't get any special treatment." Geto clutched the amethyst necklace in his hand, afraid of losing it, and left for the young princess' house. "See you soon, Dival!"

"How stubborn he is!" Dival muttered to himself as he watched Geto's figure disappear between the thick-stemmed trees in this part of the forest.

The conversation he'd had with Dival a few minutes ago replayed in his mind: could she possibly reciprocate his romantic feelings?

The answer seemed to be right in front of him…

Geto stopped walking quickly when he noticed the young princess singing a love song while dancing with another human. Perhaps Suguru had to worry about how this tall, white-haired, blue-eyed young man had managed to get past his mother's wall of thorns. But the dreamy smile on the young woman's face made his heart squeeze with pain and fear. The fairy looked away and decided that it would be best to wait until the princess left for her kingdom to deliver her gift ⸻ if only he had the courage.

The young fairy made his way to the lake he used to go to with his mother, which had become one of his meeting places with the young princess, and sat on a rock by the shore, watching the crystal clear water and the aquatic creatures that lived there. Geto didn't know how long he stayed there, pondering feelings that should never have blossomed.

"Sugu!" The princess's voice snapped Geto out of his deep thoughts, and the boy turned back, murmuring her name.

"What are you doing here?" Suguru asked, she should have been on her way to the castle by now.

"You didn't think I would leave without saying goodbye, did you?" The girl smiled and sat down next to the boy.

"I thought you'd be more excited to see where you came from and to see your parents again."

"Yes, I'm excited... But then I remember that I'm leaving all this behind and I get scared..." she sighed.

"You can come back, you know." Geto turned to the princess.

"But the thing is, sometimes I don't know if I really want to go! It's a completely different world, even though it's right next door. And I don't want to leave you..." she looked up at the clear blue sky, it would be a while before it darkened. "Could you come with me?"

"You know what they did to my wings and my mother, I don't think I'll be welcome there." Geto sighed deeply. A few years ago he had told her the fateful story of the day King Stefan invaded the Moors, but he hadn't told her that it was his father who had orchestrated the attack and torn off his wings.

"I know, I just don't want to be away from you."

"Come to me whenever you want, I'll be here waiting for you." Geto gently held the princess' hand and placed the stone from the necklace in her palm. The young woman smiled gently and hugged Suguru until he gasped for breath, drawing a laugh from her.

And Geto, deep in his heart, hoped that she would come back as soon as possible.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

Geto put his hand to his forehead and took a deep breath. He was sitting on a kind of throne made of twisted logs and thorns, the place he usually used for one of his duties as Guardian. The sky was dark and the stars were not visible, and Geto found himself clinging more and more to the mere memories that floated through his mind.

"Geto! Geto!" Dival's desperate voice came from afar in his raven form, flying as fast as he could.

"What now, Dival?" Geto watched as the crow turned into a human in front of him.

"They're invading the Moors!"

"WHAT?!" Suguru quickly got up from his seat, eyes wide with disbelief at the news.

"Your mother's curse somehow came true and King Stefan was furious, he sent troops to attack the Moors, but apparently the wall is keeping them out, but I'm afraid that won't last long."

"The sleep curse has come true..." Geto sighed" Suguru looked at a random spot on the ground, his face blank, "She will sleep forever..."

"Can you wake her?" Dival asked.

"I've tried over the years, when I found out she was the princess my mother cursed, it didn't work."

"Can't you try now that the curse has come true?"

"I could try..." Geto looked at Dival, who seemed to be hiding something, but revealed it by looking for ways to wake the princess. "First we have to get there, then I'll think about waking her."

"You'll have to get past the king's troops first."

"That's the least of the problems, Dival," Geto smiled sideways.

And indeed, the troops of the human army were no match for Geto Suguru's power. With a flick of his finger, the fairy immobilized the soldiers, sending them into a deep sleep until he could reverse the spell. Determined, he made his way to the castle, using his magic to clear the way and avoid any unpleasant and unnecessary conflicts.

"King Stefan..." His voice rang out from the throne room, drawing the king's attention.

"You!" the king said in a voice of disgust.

"Well, I think you know that we have some unresolved issues in the past that make me hold on with all my might so as not to crush that tiny little brain of yours. However, due to the current circumstances, I'd like you to listen to my somewhat irrefutable proposal." Geto's hands closed on the staff that had once belonged to his mother.

"What do you want?"

"Wow, that was pretty quick to convince you..." a sideways smile appeared on Suguru's lips, "If you, noble king, withdraw your troops from the Moor's border of your own free will and never come near my forest again, perhaps I can wake your beloved and sweet daughter."

"Can you wake her?" the king's voice came out choked. In addition to his ego, his daughter's life was at stake.

"Only on my terms!" Suguru lied.

"I promise, I promise to leave your forest alone, just save my daughter!"

"I hope you keep your promise or the consequences will be unimaginable." Geto's voice was firm, "Take me to the princess."

The king, still unsure of his decision, ordered one of his guards to take Geto to where the princess rested in her deep sleep. As the fairy entered the huge, luxurious room, he encountered a figure he didn't like very much. The white-haired boy turned towards Suguru, his hands clenching the wooden staff. Geto's purple eyes met the crystal blue of the stranger he had caught dancing with the princess in the forest not long ago.

"Black hair and a pair of horns? You must be the guardian of the Moors," the blue-eyed boy said.

"Get out of here," Geto said, controlling his tone.

"Wow, the princess said you were kind, I don't see much of that kindness," the boy smiled sideways and crossed his arms in front of him. "I bet your kiss would wake her up..." he muttered to himself, getting ready to leave the room.

"What did you say?" Geto looked at the stranger suspiciously.

"Nothing." The boy smiled. "If you'll excuse me, I have some diplomatic business to attend to with the king."

After the boy left, Geto made his way to the princess's bed, where she slept peacefully. This was not a new sight; they had already fallen asleep by the lake they visited every day ⸻ it seemed like yesterday that Geto was studying the princess's features, memorizing all her curves and smallest details under the starry sky. But unlike the last time they had slept in each other's company, when the first rays of sunlight had awakened him and the princess had cracked a broad smile and wished Suguru a good morning, she wouldn't wake up now, not if the spell wasn't broken. Geto sighed, he had been quietly trying to remove the spell from his mother ever since he had discovered that she was the Princess, Stefan's daughter, but nothing was strong enough to break it. And even now, after years of training and trying to control his power, nothing woke her.

"I'm sorry..." Geto's voice came out lower than usual, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you! It's my fault that I was so weak that none of my attempts to free you from this curse worked. I'm sorry I couldn't give you what you needed and be who you wanted, I'm not worthy of having you by my side, not when the only thing that prevails in my heart is hatred. You're too good for this world, too good for me. I wish I could do anything to have you by my side... just once." With a trembling hand, Geto reached for the icy cheek of the sleeping princess and slowly moved closer, touching his lips lightly to hers. He whispered another apology and turned, ready to flee the castle and fortify the wall around Moors, knowing that the king would not let his lies go unchallenged.

"Sugu...?" The weak, sleepy voice of the princess made the fairy stop walking quickly and turn towards the young woman. "You came to see me?"

"I just wanted to see if you arrived safely."

"I just fell asleep..." She sat down on the bed and smiled, "Couldn't you stay a little longer, I want to show you the castle... please."

"Then let's go..." Geto relented.

"Come on, I want you to see everything here!" She smiled openly and hugged Suguru tightly before wrapping her right arm around the fairy's left and leading him through the castle corridors to the throne room where Stefan was.

When they arrived at the scene, the king looked in surprise at his daughter, who was well and awake, and observed the intertwined arms with disgust.

"Arrest him!" the king shouted to the guards, who attacked Suguru, knocking his staff from his hand and binding him to his arm with steel chains, causing the fairy to scream in agony. The princess looked up in horror and saw Geto being carried away, writhing in pain. She tried to save him from the guards, but was stopped by other guards at the king's behest.

"What are you doing?" she looked at the king with watery eyes, "Let him go, please! He hasn't done anything! Please leave him alone!"

"Don't worry, child, I'm just saving our kingdom from this freak!"

"Freak?!" the young woman looked at her parents in disbelief, "He's a living being, just like us! He's never done anything wrong, no evil! Geto Suguru is the kindest person I know, please let him go!"

"HIS MOTHER CURSED YOU, DO YOU THINK I'LL FORGIVE HIS KIND FOR THAT?!"

"How can you blame him when you are the real culprit?"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN?"

"My fairy aunts told me that you stole Geto's wings and killed his mother in an attempt to take over the Moors." Tears streamed down the young woman's face, "How could you dare to do such a cruel thing, he was just a child!"

"WHAT DOES IT MATTER? THEY TOOK YOU AWAY FROM ME!"

"And you took away his mother! Forever!" The princess wiped her tears with her hands and released the guards. "Because of their selfish desires, the Moors are afraid of humans, afraid of losing their families and their freedom, they are not hideous monsters, they have feelings too. And I can't stay in a place and with people who feel entitled to destroy the lives of everything that is different from them!"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

The princess ran frantically through the castle corridors as she fled from the guards. After arguing with her father, she soon fled the place, determined to find Geto and free him from prison so they could return to Moors. Looking for a place to lose the guards, she entered a dark room and waited for the guards to pass by. When the sound of footsteps quickly faded, she breathed a sigh of relief; now she would have one less problem to worry about when she found Suguru. However, something piqued her interest when she noticed something in the middle of the room. It looked like a cupboard covered with a long, thick, dusty cloth. She approached the object and, without thinking twice, pulled the cloth down, revealing what it was.

The huge glass box allowed her to see inside, and the young woman couldn't hide her surprise when she realized that she was standing in front of Suguru's wings, which had been stolen by her father.

‘They are beautiful...' the young woman thought, staring in wonder at the pair of wings in front of her. However, she quickly snapped out of her trance when she heard footsteps in the hallway. She took a deep breath, picked up the wings, wrapped them in the cloth, and carefully ran to the catacombs where the cells were.

Noticing that no one was in the catacombs, the princess left her wings in a hidden corner and, on tiptoe, picked up the key hanging on the wall near the exit and went to the cell where Geto was.

"Sugu...?" She whispered, searching the darkness for the fairy. When she heard the boy call her name, she let out a relieved sigh and opened the cell, approaching the fairy in the corner, who was writhing in pain, her wrists aching from the handcuffs. Gently, the princess removed the handcuffs and asked him to wait for her while she fetched something. She walked quickly, picking up Geto's wings where she had left them, but the wings seemed to move on their own with each step she took as she approached him. When the wings slipped from her hands and met their true owner, the princess was even more amazed to see Geto with his majestic wings.

"As much as I'd like to admire you longer, I'm afraid we have to leave as soon as possible before they come looking for me here!"

"Why are we running away?"

"I may have had a fight with my father..."

"You did what?" Geto asked incredulously.

"I had a fight with my father after you were taken away, I can't let my father treat you like that."

"You shouldn't have fought with him... not for me. You just came back home, you found your family again..."

"Why don't you let me save you just this once?" the young woman took Geto's hands in her own, "When I arrived here, I must admit I was excited by the idea of a new world, new places to explore and new people to meet, but at no time did I feel like I belonged here, not like I did in Moors. So please, take me home with you..."

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Geto asked, trying to hide his happiness at what he had just heard from the princess.

"I am absolutely sure."

"Then let's go home!"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

The princess clung to Geto as tightly as she could while the fairy flew through the sky as if there was no tomorrow. Over the years, Suguru had resigned himself to never experiencing that feeling of freedom again, but apparently he was wrong. Having his wings again seemed like a dream, and to his happiness, it was a dream come true.

When they arrived in Moors, the princess asked Dival to deliver a letter to the king, saying that she had run away and would return to the forest and live there, where she had always felt at home, but that she could occasionally visit the kingdom and spend time with her biological family if they wanted her around.

"Are you going to fly around all night?" The princess asked with a smile as she watched Geto approach her.

"Maybe, it feels too good to stop."

"Your wings... They are beautiful... may I touch them?"

With a feeling of déjà vu, Geto approached the princess and allowed her to gently run her hand over the black feathers of his wings.

"Thank you... for saving me and for loving me as much as I love you."

"Wha... what?"

"I like you, Suguru. I like you so much that sometimes I feel like my heart will explode if I stay by your side for too long... you're my everything. That's why I want to be selfish and have you by my side until the end of this world."

"Well, I think I'll be more than happy to stay by your side until you don't want me anymore." Geto approached the princess, placing one of his hands on her waist, pulling her closer to his body, while the other rested on her cheek, his thumb making a light circular caress of her skin. Slowly, Suguru brought his lips to hers and gave her a soft kiss, which was immediately returned by the princess. Even though he had dreamed of this moment for a long time, Geto didn't rush into the kiss, but enjoyed and savored every moment that their lips were together, as if they had all the time in the world.

"I love you more than you can imagine..." When they broke apart for lack of air, Geto rested his forehead on hers and smiled openly, it all seemed like a dream and if it turned out to be a dream, he didn't want to wake up ever again. The fairy's hands closed around the young woman's waist and he hugged her tightly, as if she could disappear from his arms at any moment.

"But I love you more." The princess said as she rested her cheek on Suguru's chest and listened to his heartbeat, which was slowing down.

"That's impossible, darling!" Geto smiled openly and kissed the princess's forehead, "But I'll let you believe it is."

© SEONGHRTZ, 2024ㅤ⸻ㅤall rights reserved. please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

#꒰ 🪷 ꒱ ࣪𓂂 ׅ ⤿ 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 ! #☆ . . seonghrtz !! #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #jujutsu geto #geto suguru #suguru geto #jjk geto #geto fanfic #geto fluff #suguru x reader #jjk suguru #geto suguru x you #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

[maxzinn]

FOUND FAMILY TROPE

⇀ tags ; fem!reader, developing relationships, found family, reader is yanqing's mom, jing yuan being a bit emo, slight angst, fluff, happy endings!

⇀ note: here's part 2, sorry it took a while sdjhfjh

part 1

jing yuan never liked the quiet, but he doesn't hate it as well.

sometimes, to him, it's peaceful. the gentle rays of sunlight slowly making its home in his abode, the gentle rustle of the wind, curtains fluttering from the gentle breeze, and the chirping of those tiny little finches that seemingly found comfort in his windows.

but sometimes, it's unsettling. his abode is far too huge for his liking. far too big that despite his huge stature... it makes him feel so small. the quiet seems to haunt him, its silence deafening. The halls are way too quiet, every nook and cranny - every room he barely used...

he was never used to the quiet, never ever got used to it. to jingyuan, the silence was a hard pill to swallow - one that haunted him, one that enables the lonely thoughts and regrets he has in his head. to him, it's a terrifying gamble. one that he doesn't risk, and a risk he doesn't want to take.

yet, he doesn't like the noise either. not when the screams and cries of his people fills the air, not when his friends mourn for their lost friend, not when the final verdict was placed, and not when their hatred and vengeance spoke louder that it drowned the voices of their joyful laughter.

not when chingzu scolds him for the nth time for setting his duties aside, not when fu xuan complains about his sleepiness, and not when another trouble arises in the luofu.

but then suddenly... the noise doesn't seem to be as unbearable as before. when he met you, as cheesy as it sounds.

"yanqing! don't run too fast!" you scolded as yanqing continued to run away from you, laughing and giggling as he played in the general's garden. you sighed in defeat and placed your hands on your waist.

the general chuckled, "it's fine y/n, let the little man play to his heart's content. I don't mind at all"

"you spoil him a bit too much, general. i'm afraid he'll get more and more demanding" you let out a small laugh.

the quiet was slowly filled with noise, ones that came from you and your son... ones that echoed through his oh so empty halls, ones that vibrated through his walls, ones that filled his abode with the color of your tone, ones that replaced the seemingly monochromatic energy of his own home... and ones that he always looked forward to hear in the mornings, afternoons, and nights.

the way you and yanqing would greet him with a sweet "good morning, general!" was something that brought warmth and comfort to his lonely heart. something that gives him peace as you began to serve breakfast on the table with yanqing helping you set up the table...

the way you would sing your lullabies to lull your son to sleep, the way you would hum as you cook in the kitchen, the way you would read yanqing bed time stories, and the way you keep him entertained with your company by telling random stories and tales about yourself...

these are the moments and memories he forever wants to keep - ones that he never intends to sacrifice. one that he will forever engrave and etch on his heart and mind, body and soul.

but then suddenly, the silence doesn't seem to be as unbearable as before. as he watches you and yanqing sleep.

the corner of his lips twitched upwards and turned into a warm smile as he observes the mother and son duo sleeping about in the garden without a single care in the world. your forms are relaxed, the children's book in your hand slipping out of your grasp, your arms wrapped around yanqing as he sleeps on your chest, and the soft snores you both let out wasn't something he was able to miss.

and suddenly, jing yuan hated to not hear the quiet.

"general, you've done enough for me and yanqing throughout my whole recovery. i'm truly grateful for your kindness and care, which is why I think it would be best not to further burden you anymore with our situation as I have recovered” you said with an almost disappointed and apologetic smile, and jing yuan froze in place.

“I already told you, I don’t mind at all as long as you have fully recovered. that would be the only favor I ask of you in return” he said, trying to convince you while trying to mask his desperation

“you’re too kind general, truly. I can’t thank you enough for letting us stay just because of my son’s insistence and tantrums…”

jing yuan could have left you both to the care of the healers of the alchemy commission after he had rescued you and yanqing… but the little man’s cries of fear and worry over his mother made it hard for him to leave. so he held him close, and chose to look after him until you wake up because yanqing who found comfort in the general’s presence - doesn’t want to part with him.

jing yuan could have agreed without any hesitation to your offer, he could have allowed for you to leave his home… but he got so used of your presence that it made it hard for him to agree. those moments where he feels himself truly relax in his abode, the fact that he have someone to come home to… for him to keep on bearing the burden and weight on his shoulders, for everything to be much more bearable than before…

he couldn’t bear coming home to an empty house anymore, where only silence and noise greets him in mockery.

and suddenly, jing yuan hated to silence the noise

as you filled the empty rooms and spaces in his abode, leaving your mark on every corner of his home… driving away the silence that haunts him as he hears your skittering and humming in the kitchen while making dinner, as you read your bedtime stories to your son, as you sing while taking your sweet time in the shower…

for once, jing yuan felt fear.

for once, he lets himself be selfish.

“…I plan to take yanqing as my apprentice” your jaw drops.

“g-general? what are you- that’s too much to ask of you!” you exclaimed.

“the little man wants to become a cloud knight does he not? I don’t see the problem with that” he said with his familiar smug and relaxed demeanor.

“but yanqing has not made any feats worthy of him being your apprentice! general, I ask you to please reconsider”

“I disagree, I see great potential in him and I have no doubts he will reach great heights and perform great feats… I only wish to nurture his talent at a young age” he stepped towards you.

“there are plenty of spare rooms for us to make use of… and I don’t mind you using them. so fret not.”

maybe, this is his way of asking you both to stay. as you look in his eyes, he looks at you with such gentleness… desperation… and longing. for once, the general looked truly lonely, but he couldn’t be anymore sincere of his feelings.

and maybe, just maybe… you might give in to his wishes too.

sksjdh finally complete, sorry it took so long 😭 I don’t know if I did well in writing part 2 but this is the best that my brain could think of 🥹

should I do a part 3 as well??

#jing yuan #jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan x you #jingyuan #jingyuan x reader #jing yuan fluff #jing yuan hsr #jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan #hsr jingyuan #hsr x reader #hsr yanqing #yanqing #yanqing hsr #honkai star rail #yanqing x reader #yanqing x y/n #yanqing flluff #hsr found family trope #hsr found family #hsr #star rail

[syoddeye]

useless

Part one of my submission to @glitterypirateduck's O, Captain! Challenge. I rolled a d100 to select three prompts. Part one uses two:

42. The story spans over a period of 10 or more years

14. Opposites attract

~2k words, Price x f!Reader. Some liberties were taken with canon, obvs. Please enjoy!

You meet John Price when you're fifteen years old. 

Being the new kid is never easy, but you have some practice. This is the fifth time your family has moved since you were born. Such is life when your mother's an ambassador. However, it is your first time attending an actual school, and it's miserable. It doesn't matter who your mother is when your peers are the children of millionaires, celebrities, and executives. Compared to them, you're a nobody, just easy pickings.

But compared to John, you might as well be a princess. 

The son of your mother's assistant, you see John almost every day. You do not attend the same school, of course. Despite the awfulness of its students, your school has standards, after all, but every day after the last bell, you and your security detail fetch John to rendezvous at your family's sprawling home. Since both sets of your parents work long and odd hours, you spend a great deal of time together. Usually, you study, eat dinner, maybe read or watch television, but you do not necessarily talk. He's as surly as an old man, unpleasant on good days and unbearable on bad ones.

You don't look at John when he slides into the car anymore. You're enthralled in Sabriel, too busy to acknowledge him, that is until you feel his eyes on you. 

"What?"

"Didn't say anything."

"You're staring," You huff, lowering the book, only to almost drop it. "What happened to your face?!"

A purpling, inky black bruise covers John's swollen left eye. It's nasty, but he looks bored by the question.

"Scrapped. Some idiot ran his mouth."

"So you hit him? Then he hit you?"

"That's generally how it works," He says dismissively, crossing his arms and leaning into the seat to stare out the window.

You roll your eyes and return to the Abhorsen. "Your mom's gonna kill you."

He doesn't have a comeback for that. 

Predictably, his mom loses it when she arrives to pick him up. Throws a fit, her anger evenly split between John and his school. You watch from the top of the stairs as your mother consoles her friend and offers advice before they leave. John scowls, the expression deepening when he catches you listening in. You give a shit-eating grin before retreating to your room. Serves him right for fighting. Boys.

Of course, though, in a rotten turn of events, his mother leverages her position, and John enrolls in your school. Due to your relationship, you're naturally coupled together both in and outside of the classroom. It isn't for lack of trying on your peers' parts. You can grudgingly admit John's a good-looking boy. He has all the makings of a popular kid. Athletic, intelligent, and withdrawn, just enough to make people wonder in a good way. He's regularly asked out, the invitations often extended in your company. You don't miss how other girls look at him or glare at you.

Jokes on them, he's easily the most unpleasant person you've ever had the displeasure to know.

"What are you putting down on the careers interest form?" You ask one afternoon, sprawled on the couch while John sits with his back to it, reading.

"SAS. Enlisting next year."

"Military? How noble." You muse. "Your dad's not–"

"No," His head turns a fraction. "But my grandfather served. North Africa."

It's the first you've heard of it. John doesn't talk much about his family, nor do you make a habit of asking. You don't pay close attention to the adults' conversations either. "Well, you're pretty strong and clever, I guess," you temper the compliments, uneasy about doling them out to him. So you'll fair well, I bet."

He doesn't respond for a minute before a quiet "Thank you," ekes out. 

For whatever reason, your face heats. How embarrassing. You tap your pen against your blank form, grateful he faces away. Yet as a silence follows and stretches, irritation sidles alongside discomfiture. Honestly, this is what you'd like to show the girls at school. Prove that John's actually quite annoying. 

"Now's about the time another person would ask what I'm putting down."

John doesn't look up from his book. "I know what you're going to write."

You bristle. "Oh, do you? Enlighten me."

"Artist. Writer. Actress. Something useless."

In one fluid movement, you sit up and strike him across the crown with your notebook. "You're such an asshole!" You quickly create distance between his stupid, stunned face and yourself, stomping all the way to the stairs. Halfway up the steps, you crouch, pressing your face between the balusters. "You're not going to amount to anything!"

You don't speak to him after that—not entirely, of course. Your families are too intertwined to avoid him completely, but the incident strains your already tenuous relationship. It's awkward and tense, though neither of your families notices the shift. You sit in silence at joint dinners. You leave him alone in the den after school. You latch on to other singletons in class, avoiding him in the halls.

Months pass, and as John declared, he enlists the moment the school term ends. Freshly sixteen, and scheduled to ship out to basic. 

The morning he leaves, your mother drags you to his house. You stand speechless on the walk outside when he marches out with his rucksack. His head's shaved. He grew an inch and filled out some in the last few weeks when you weren't paying attention. Still a boy, but clearly on his way to becoming a man.

His mother all but shoves him at you to say goodbye. He stares down at you now, the twit. 

"Good luck." It's the nicest thing you can manage.

"Break a leg," He responds, hauling his bag over his shoulder. "Don't be useless."

You're too busy noticing how his eyes are the same color as the sky to feel even a twinge of irritation.

When he files into the waiting taxi, his mother bursts out into sobs. You watch the car until it disappears down the next street, trying to understand why your chest is so tight.

It’s a decade before you see him again.

~~

"I told the Prices you'd pop by."

You nearly fumble your card, phone cradled between your shoulder and ear, and clumsily tap it against the scanner. Mouthing an apology to the disinterested cashier, you take your bag and find your words.

"Why would you do that?" You ask, unable to completely mask your disdain. "I told you I have plans for New Years." 

Your mother tsks. "Surely you can pencil in some of our oldest friends for an hour tomorrow."

The automatic doors open, and the wintry air envelops you instantly. The plastic bag taut in the crook of your arm, you flip the collar of your coat and start the return trek to your flatshare. "I haven't seen them since graduation, since we moved back to Virginia."

"And you moved back to London, what, eight months ago?" Her end muffles a moment while she says something to her aide. Her voice is sterner when she speaks again. "They've been asking about your job, how acting's going…" Her voice trails, leaving the works or not going unspoken.

You swallow, tucking your chin into your scarf to consider the remainder of the conversation. "Fine. I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon. But I'm not staying late. I have plans." You don't. You did have an invite to a party a week ago, but that was before Jeff decided Jane from work was 'more his speed'. More 'conventional'. Though you'd seen the breakup coming for weeks and the relationship only a measly six months old, it still stung. Since coming back to London, you've had more than enough rejection.

Dozens of auditions. Dozens more interviews. Zip, zilch, zero. No callbacks, no non-speaking roles. And while you are the favorite stage manager for several small local theaters and Yes Woman, you weren't any closer to the stage. Something your mother loves to remind you of. Between her rapid ascent up the career ladder and your decision to study theater, an uncrossable gulf cropped up between you. It grew with each passing day. Moreso, when you reject every offer of financial support or connection. Her support means control. Ownership. You won't have it.

The conversation drifts to other topics—Dad, mostly. He's still putting around after her, content in his retirement. They'll spend New Year's at the White House, of course. You're pushing through the door to your place when she drops the bomb.

"John'll be there, too."

This time, you drop your keys.

~~

There is no excuse you can make to back out now. You wait on the top step of the Price's home. It's smaller than you remember. You hear people inside, music, and laughter. You hesitate. Given what you told your mother, they probably expected you far earlier than nine, but you barely mustered the courage to leave your room. You practically blacked out on the tube, leaving the station in a daze with your cheap bubbles. Taking a deep breath, you reach for the door. No time for stage fright.

The foyer is a time capsule, aside from the dozens of coats hanging on hooks and a coat rack. Framed photos of the Prices throughout the years line the short corridor leading further into the home. John's center stage for most of them. You hang your coat and slowly edge down memory lane, pausing when you see your own face looking back at you. Aged fifteen, the first day of school. You and John in different uniforms, sulking for different reasons. It was the last time you were the same height.

There are a lot of photographs of you in the hallway gallery. Ones you didn't know existed. You get stuck on a still of you and John from behind. It's from the London Zoo, from some ridiculous event your mother's work mandated you attend. The photo is simple, accidentally composed almost professionally. You and John lean against the rail overlooking the lion exhibit. You excitedly point at the pair lazing about in the shade, and John…John's focus is on you.

The sound of your name rips you away from the moment, and Mrs. Price beckons from the doorway to the living area.

The reunion between yourself and Prices is sweeter than you thought it would be. It's odd to see them older. As jarring as it is when you see your own parents, as sparingly as those visits are. Wrinkles, spots, graying hairs…But unlike your parents, none of the familiar warmth is missing from the Prices. They fuss, complimenting your secondhand dress and gushing over the bottom shelf champagne. They awkwardly introduce you to the closest guests, some claiming to have met you as a teenager. But you feel Mrs. Price's hand on your back, gently ushering and ushering, until you arrive at the threshold of the kitchen.

He's taller, tanner, and a hell of a lot broader than you remember him.

"John? Look who's here!"

You step into the kitchen with a gentle nudge from Mrs. Price, and the figure from many memories and more than a handful of confusing and mortifying dreams turns to face you.

Your name slips from his mouth in an arrogant purr, and the little tug of his lip into a smirk instantly pokes at your patience. He's literally only said your name, and already he's resurrected the same shade of vexation you felt ten years ago.

You're going to need something stronger than champagne.

#ocaptainchallenge #john price #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #price x reader #price x f!reader #lieutenant john price #smug lieutenant john price is so important to me #i'm also obviously not british and i'll admit i did maybe 10% of the research i usually do.....apologies #lightly edited i was too excited

[amostnobleyandere]

Yandere! Noble! Scaramouche x GN! Reader (Arranged Marriage)

A/N: hey look first post!!!! this blog is basically just a place to dump my thoughts on yanderes and situations w them// if you’re not comfortable w that, please leave!!! this is not the place for you

GN reader but!!! the word “bride” is used once so do w that what you will .

remember, this is a mature blog !!! don’t like don’t read!!!!!!!!

warning(s): male! yandere, toxic relationships, slightly narcissistic yandere, verbal abuse, child neglect, arranged marriage, toxic behavior, bad parenting skills, loneliness, obsession, yandere scaramouche, scaramouche is his own warningetc. etc.

Synopsis: there’s this specific scenario ive been thinking of lately : an enemies to lovers, but with a yandere that is particularly bitter and hasn’t really experienced an unconditional love before but then his initial hatred of you turns into an obsession. I thought scara was perfect for it :)

—————————

neither of you had wanted to get married; you, the child of the last bloodline of a falling noble family, and scaramouche, heir to one of the wealthiest and most prestigious names in the empire, would have never been pushed to marry under normal circumstances. it could only be assumed that fate had revealed its hand and placed its destiny upon you.

you had never even met the young man that society had branded as ruthlessly curt with a lash-like tongue. you had never expected to, considering how far apart you were, in different circles and in different worlds

he was the duchess’ nephew and only heir, and was untouchable in both stature and power. in contrast, your family name was declining rapidly. you knew why your mother and father had accepted the marriage proposal the day it came, and you knew why they decide not to tell you until the letter in reply had already been sent. you had no say in the matter

how you parents arranged a marriage between the two of you? well, you could certainly guess; noble ladies gossiped and gasped about the young man who was rich with a handsome face, but with an incredibly arrogant personality and a razor tongue that both reflected his wit and endless scorn. you thought that the rumors must have been over exaggerated, as they always were, but for the duchess to have to reach out to your family to find a spouse for her son? had all the other contestants being rejected, and now they were picking through the scraps that were left? or perhaps, had they rejected him?

now, you weren’t so sure

even then, some part of you had never thought they would agree to something like this; they had concluded that this was what was best for you, had even told you that you will live a much happier life if you were in a household that wasn’t always on the edge of crumbling and giving way to time; you could see that they did have the best of intentions. and still, you felt betrayed

unbeknownst to you, at the time, your fiancé had felt the same way toward his mother; the expression of his feelings on the matter, however, included a lot more yelling and rage in his questions as to why he was being dragged into this. he was used to being disappointed, but being so blatantly used?

unfortunately, scaramouche’s defiance was only met with a cold silence and a blank stare, and after he had vehemently denied to go along with the marriage, his mother had only said that nothing could be done. he had no choice in the matter.

and the gentle glint in her eyes, that had still remained their after all these years, that stayed as she firmly reprimanded him, only served to make him more furious.

and so, his resentment for you, the other victim in this situation, came naturally.

when he met you for the first time, his regularly crass and sarcastic attitude only got worse. you could see the embarrassment dawn on both your parents’ and his mother’s faces, cringing every time his voice got a little too loud or when he said something particularly blunt. he made snide comments on your upbringing, your title, even your clothing wasn’t spared the ruthless bite of his words. between his curt and cold attitude and your futile attempts at making conversation, you two didn’t exactly hit it off when you first met

and then, when you finally got sick of it and told him what exactly you thought of his words and his money and where he could shove them, his resentment turned into something much more personal: spite.

he reasoned that he had every right to hate you. to be overly rude and childish whenever you so much as got the idea to be five feet near him. he never asked for the marriage. he doesn’t care about how much it would benefit the two of you, and he’s long past trying to finally please his mother into loving him, so why should he have to act like the perfect husband for someone who is below him?

your parents seemed to love you plenty though. if their guilty eyes and shifty glances were anything to go by. even if they were shamelessly grabbing at the wealth and prestige of another family, he could tell that this marriage was meant for you and your future. even if you didn’t want it. even if you seemed to dread it. every time they brought you over for a scheduled date in the lonely garden at the back of the duchess’s estate, there seemed to be a subtle pain in their eyes.

perhaps, a paternal regret at having to make their child miserable so that they could eventually have the things they weren’t able to give them.

…well, it gave him more reason to torment you.

————————

there seemed to be no way out of the awkward meetings. your parents were hell bent on having scaramouche as your husband, and his mother was just as determined. so, when you did have to suffer through seeing each other, you kept trading thinly veiled insults, practically sulking every time you heard the others name, and bickering with the each other at every opportunity. it became a familiar routine for the two of you, to not get along and verbalize your frustrations through jabs and taunts

strangely enough, scaramouche grew fond of the bickering. you were practically the only person who would speak to him so casually. with so little respect and without fear of him blowing up. he thought it was refreshing. no one hardly ever talked to him anymore, and even a child that had everything and more could not curb his own loneliness by himself…he would never tell you that, though.

he thought that at least it was entertaining to tease you. actually, if you weren’t so annoying, he might have actually gone as far to say it’s pleasant having you in his company. It certainly beats the large, lonely house he had to wander every day.

plus, when was the last time he had talked this much? when someone had looked at him and acknowledged his existence without him having to work for it?

—————————

as the engagement progressed, you two ended up spending hours together every week, whether you wanted to or not, and while you were mentally and emotionally exhausted from the stress your parents were putting you through, he’s looking forward to your meetings like they’re the highlight of his week…it’s ridiculous, he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks, and oh god now he can’t get you out of his head.

then suddenly, you’re calling it off. the whole engagement. miraculously, you guilted your parents into going back on what they had agreed to.

his mother is appalled and frustrated, a bit exasperated now that she has to find another suitable bride for her son.

scaramouche is beyond furious.

he goes quiet with rage. he’s more snappish now, towards the maids, towards everyone. his attitude is no longer his usual arrogance and crudeness. his usual bitterness rose into an explosive temper and ruthless training just to keep himself confined to a state of sanity. there is, once again, for the first time in many, many years, an unmistakable fear of abandonment that is raging in his head. he feels so wronged.

and it’s your fault.

and then, he goes silent. if they thought it was bad when he talked, see what they think when he’s quiet.

for his mother, it’s unnerving. to the servants, it’s downright terrifying.

no one realizes that he’s calculating. no one really expects it. everyone assumed this was one big temper tantrum after suffering a huge blow to his pride.

scaramouche was really only clutching his shattered heart after giving it to someone who threw it away.

—————————

what he wants at first is revenge.

that’s what he wants to think he wants. he wants to make things even between the two of you; make you suffer like you made him. force his way into your mind in the worst way possible, and keep himself there to get the message across.

for the first few agonizing days after the annulment, he thinks; maybe that he should tamper with your parents businesses and make you a pauper, someone who is reduced to having to take care of their parents after you fall from the graces of society. and then, after that, he’s hoping you’d come crawling back to him, and ask for his help and his hand. and he’d oh-so graciously accept you back into his life; not before making you beg for it, though.

then again, perhaps toying with whatever lover you have would be a good way to get back at you. he just assumes that you have one, because you must, for you to just abandon him like that.

you should have just stayed.

either way, he’s going to make you regret it.

—————————

it doesn’t take much for scaramouche to convince his mother to have a much needed talk with your parents.

and despite everything she’s done, ei does want to make her son happy. she wasn’t blind after all; he’s always seemed to be on edge, ever since the accident, but he had changed in the short amount of time he had know you. the boy she had failed to raise and care for, someone who was now so far out of her reach, seemed to be more calm and content when you were by his side. it had been a long time since she had seen her nephew look forward to something this much.

whether you want the engagement or not matters less to her.

—————————

and so, your resistance all comes apart so easily. Ei is one of the most powerful people in the empire, so it doesn’t take much effort before she’s luring your parents into throwing you back to them and into scaramouche’s waiting arms. It would be the least she could do as his mother

it’s only a matter of time before you’re resting in the palm of his hand once again; the engagement is back on, running smoothly towards your fast approaching wedding, like your little rebellious mishap never even happened

scaramouche is reveling in it. he feels as though he’s won. and in truth, he has. he imagines the look on your face, how you’ll have to greet him eventually, look him in the eyes after tossing him to the side and then losing, and thinks about how he’s going to make your reunion as painful as possible when you do meet again

his wishes are fulfilled when not even a month later are you pushed into the expansive garden by servants and abandoned by them even quicker, watching them scurry away with pale but oddly relieved faces. once again, you were meant to suffer through another lunch date after you thought you had finally escaped and left the gloomy estate behind forever.

the familiar stone pathway and expansive flora only served to bring back bad memories of your failed attempt to gain your freedom and reminded you of what you would have to look forward to for the rest of your life. it’s only the scuffle of boots against the ground that brought you back to reality.

you knew exactly who was standing behind you.

—————————

when scaramouche saw you standing there, muscles taught and shoulders tensed as you refused to look at him, he took his time observing you, savoring the moment and committing it to memory.

his slow and deliberate footsteps did little to calm your fraying nerves. You were both surrounded by tall hedges and the gentle sound of water coming from nearby fountains. no one else was around. You were completely isolated, with only your fiancé- no, your crazed future husband- keeping you company.

and as always, his presence was suffocating.

“you know, trying to run away from me was cute, but it got annoying after the joke was over. did you really think you could go against a duchy? don’t make me laugh.” his voice had a high and condescending lit to it that seemed to grate against your ears. your stony facade crumbled soon after, instantly revealing the confusion and panic that welled in your chest.

“…why did you do it?” your voice came out hoarse and low. you whirled around, finally looking into those violet eyes. scaramouche felt a shiver of excitement run up his spine as your watery gaze met his.

“you hated this engagement just as much as I did. why did you drag me back here? we both could’ve been free.” a bitter laugh escaped your throat that pathetically choked off into a sob.

he laughed lowly as his head titled down, shielding his eyes from you. the sight made you shudder involuntarily.

“‘drag you back?’ deary, you belong to me. you did the moment I decided I wanted you. what you want doesn’t matter anymore. You don’t know what’s good for yourself, clearly.”

when he lifted his head back up to meet your eyes, he was smiling. the soft turn of his lips wasn’t full of cruelty or malice, scorn or hatred, and somehow that made the uncharacteristically gentle look so, so much worse.

scaramouche picked up your limp hand, gently turning it over, and slipped a ring onto it. it was like putting a heavy shackle on a caged bird; it was needless and unnecessary, you were already trapped. the world did not need anything else but the duchess’s final word to let everyone know who you belonged to.

but, as you stood there staring blankly ahead, you noticed scaramouche seemed genuinely happy to see the band resting on your finger.

the smile he wore turned more playful, more mocking, as those piercing eyes looked at you as if you were pitiful and small, beneath him, something that needed guidance

and his purple eyes locked with yours as he slowly pulled you to him and brought you into a soft kiss.

—————————

“Give me your love. Give me your validation. Hand yourself over to me, body, mind, and soul.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“Darling, do you think you have a choice?”

#scaramouche #yandere x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin #yandere #yandere genshin impact #romantic yandere #male yandere #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #yandere wanderer x reader #yander wanderer #genshin impact #genshin

[redheadspark]

Vow

Summary - Azriel does not take threats lightly, especially when it comes to his family.

Warnings - Some angst and a hint of fluff in the end

A/N - This is part of the Ocean Eyes Series

There was one thing that Azriel would never compromise in his life, it was the safety of his family.

Long before Alec was born, Azriel made sure the safety of his Inner Circle, especially his mate and the love of his life, would never be in jeopardy.  He already lost so much in his younger years, including his own mother.  Now that he had a new fond family, he would fight tooth and nail to keep them in his life.  He felt that more when you came along, though he knew you could handle yourself as a fellow Illyrian.  Still, you were his priority for centuries as you two were together, and being a Spymaster for Night Court and a Shadowsinger, it made the target on his back and on his family all the more tempting for enemies to attempt to strike.  Azriel knew better, he was always a step ahead and had plenty of connections in most of the other Courts, so there was never a time he was sidetracked for taken by surprise.  

There were times in the past when someone would threaten his family, whether it was under their breath or using it as a scare tactic against Azriel.  Of course, it was a low blow for them to do against the only Shadowsinger in all of Prythian, and it was a colossal mistake on their part.  Azriel would snuff out those whispers and comment instantly with a flick of his shadows or a cool look from his hazel eyes.  Of course, he knew threats would come after Night Court and Velaris, especially against High Lord Rhysand and High Lady Freya.  He would protect them, his chosen and found family, he was embedded in his bones to protect and serve them since he loved them dearly.  

It took one afternoon and one comment to make the rational side of Azriel disappear, and the Shadowsinger side of Azriel taking over

Once again, he went with Rhysand to a meeting, out in Autumn Court with High Lord Beron Vanserra.  Although the relationship between the two High Lords was still on shaky ground, it was on the mend.  Lucien and Elaine’s upcoming wedding and mating ceremony was one of the main reasons for the mending relationship between the two Courts, with Beron wishing to help in the planning with his stepson and future daughter-in-law. 

There was still one being that was making ripples of uneasiness and aches: Eris.

No matter that the war was over, or that peace was seeping through all the courts and beyond. No matter that his own father was gaining more of a better reputation with his own Court and others, Eris was still holding a bitter chip on his shoulder. Whether it was because of his broken history with Mor and what he did to her, or the severe ties he snapped from the war, he was digging himself deeper and deeper in his grave.  

Of course, he would make it worse when Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel arrived, Rhysand needing a meeting with Beron with the upcoming traveling documents with some citizens and new soldiers that were being placed under his command from the Illyrian camps.  He was now open to having Illyrian soldiers come to work for him at his Court, which was a huge step in the right direction.  Cassian handpicked the soldiers that would migrate to Autumn Court, knowing which ones would be better for Beron.   

The meeting was going quite well, much to the dismay of Eris who was sitting in on the meeting with a scowled look on his face.  Rhysand and Beron were chatting together on the formalities, Cassian and Azriel watching on behind Rhysand along the back wall.  Azriel could see it on Eris’s face, the look of disdain on his face and almost a scowl that was permanently etched within his eyes and along his mouth. Of course, Azriel was never a fan of the prince, mostly because of how he treated Mor so long ago and he made it nonchalant.  Mor was his family, a huge support for his mate and now his son.  Mor was named Alec’s Godmother, Azriel not being able to think of anyone else to hold such an honor.

So it was safe to say that Eris was not on his nice list.

“Well, I think that settles that,” Rhysand said with a smile, Beron nodding in agreement as they both looked over the documents that were drawn out in their respected courts, “Thank you for taking the time to meet and go over the last of this tedious work,”

“It’s no trouble,” Beron replied as he gestured to the documents, “This will be a new step in the right direction.  I know I have no been the best High Lord of any means, but I wish to make things right.  Not just for the sake of Autumn Court and it’s citizens, but for Lucien and his betrothed,”

Eris shifted a bit from the mention of his stepbrother, Azriel making a note of it as his eyes slightly narrowed.  Beron saw it too, giving his son a side eyes quick to almost tell him to control himself.

“Lucien and Elaine are a solid match,” Rhysand hummed in agreement, “I know my sister-in-law is looking forward to a wedding there within a month, which in return will bring a strong alliance between our Courts.  If there is anything that needs assistance, please let us know,”

“Miss Archeron has planned everything out accordingly,” Beron explained with a softer smile, “I know she will bring nothing but great happiness to Lucien.  I know he needs too, especially after all he has been through,”

“I beg to differ,” Eris replied in a snarl, all of the attention now went from the two High Lords to the Prince who had a sour look on his face.  Azriel held his composure behind Rhysand, who was eyeing Eris suspiciously with his violet orbs.  Azriel was never a huge fan of Lucien at the very beginning, though he changed that opinion over time thanks to his friendship with Elaine and how he admired her.  Now that he was considered family to Azriel, he felt his shadows lick against him as the first sign of a warning.  

“Eris,” Beron said in a low tone, though Eric shook his head and leaned back in his chair.

“Have we forgotten what Lucien has done to this court?” Eris bitterly asked his father, almost forgetting that Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel were on the other side of the table, “The pain and betrayal he has caused?  Our reputation?”

“The only being that is causing dismay with our reputation now is you,” Beron reminded him calmly, though there was clear evidence of tension with the High Lord and how he was holding back what he wished to say to his son.  Eris, though still scowling and looking as if he would rather be anywhere else, stayed quiet as Beron looked back at Rhysand, “Apologies for my son’s outburst, Rhysand.  How about you and I finish this in my private study?”

Rhysand simply smiled, not trying to show the giddiness that he was feeling seeing the High Lord and his Prince squabble with each other in front of him since it was so amusing, “I don’t see why not.  Please, show the way,”

Beron smiled, both himself and Rhysand getting up from their chairs.  Beron gave his son one last look, it was a very quick look that would have been overlooked by the common viewer but Azriel saw it with his trained orbs.  

Behave yourself.

As Rhysand and Beron walked out of the room, still chatting with one another and things were settled again with the known tension in the room, Azriel and Cassian were still standing side by side as Eris finally set his eyes on the Illryians who were on the other side of the room.  

“Must be nice to be on Rhysand’s beck and call 24 hours a day,” Eris commented lightly, a small chuckle on his lips as he reached over to one of the pitchers that was filled with wine to fill his glass.  

“That’s High Lord to you,” Cassian reminded him with a slight warning to his tone, “Prince,”

Eris laughed, taking a long sip from his wine as he then looked between Azriel and Cassian,  Azriel good and well that Eris loved talking, making his words get under the skin of his target so easily and seeming innocent about it.  It was almost like a game to him, a sinister game that would always bring him happiness when others around him would be in torment.  It was a good thing that both Cassian and Azriel knew of his game, which was a huge advantage for them.  He knew how to fight with words.

Cassian and Azriel knew how to fight with their fists.

“I’ve heard great whispers of news coming from your Court,” Eris said casually, pouring his glass again since he downed the wine swiftly, almost too pompous and full of himself, “Whispers of new changes, marriages,”

“Never took you to be one for gossip, you must be bored around here with nothing to do,” Cassian hummed as he strolled over to take the spare glass, then reaching across the table to the pitcher of wine to pour as Eris eyed him with a hint of disgust of the Commander touching his glass.  Though Cassian never cared, Azriel noted that he was even showing traits of his mate in that moment as he glared at Eris while taking a soothing drink of the wine.  Azriel had to smile, inwardly thanking the Mother that Nesta rubbed off on Cassian in the best way,

“Ah, I’m not,” Eris hummed as he traced the win of his glass with his nimble fingers, “But these whispers are the kind that do catch my attention since it involves the Illyrian Army Commander….and the Spymaster,”

Cassian paused, remaining calm and holding the glass gently in his hands as Azriel’s eyes snapped over to the Autumn Court Prince he was slowly looking over at you with that glint in his bright eyes and along his sinister smile.  Now that Azriel was mentioned, his shadows were hovering against his skin and wings, wanting him that something was going to be said.  He relied upon his shadows, more than he relied on his gut.  His shadows had protected him in plenty of close calls and have kept him alive, not to mention gave him sound advice and valuable information that he would use to protect Night Court.

“I would watch very…very…carefully before you say something that would end badly for you,” Cassian said to him in a slight warning as Eris’s eyes were still on Azriel, almost in a way that made Azriel think that he was about to piss him off.  Azriel knew how to maintain his composure, to remain calm in stressful situations.  But his shadows were still active and warning him.

Stay on your guard.

“Is that a threat, in my own Court?” Eris asked in a coy tone, yet Cassian merely raised a brow at him.

“Merely a warning,” Cassian replied as Eris took another drink from his glass and leaned back a bit more in his chair, “As you know, from your own past experiences, whispers and gossip can lead to bad reproductions and mass chaos,”

Azriel had to smirk as Eris paused in his drink, Cassian keeping his stare on him as he too was trying so hard not to smile from his own comment at him.  This was now treading dangerous water with the three of them alone in a room, though Rhysand knew that Cassian and Azriel always represented Night Court in the best manner possible.  Most of the time.  

But Rhysand also knew his brothers and when the line would be taken too far.  When that happened, all bets were off. 

“I have to wonder if the rumors that I heard are in fact true,” Eris said, still going down the road that seemed far too dangerous for anyone else to tread.  But not Eris, who was now once again looking at Azriel was now sealing his fate with the next sentence out of his mouth.

“The rumors of the Spymaster and his little family,”

Within moments, the room was filled to the brim with shadows and darkness.  Azriel’s entire demeanor shifted from cool and calm to angry.  Pure unfiltered anger, mixed in with the rage that was pitted in his belly.  Eris crossed the line with that one sentence, showing no shaming in saying it and keeping his composure.  His shadows reacted before he did, stepping out into the entire room and filling in every single space in that room.  No light was seen, not even a single drop.

If there was nothing that Azriel would ever compromise with, it was his family.  His mate and his son were now his whole world, the two beings that he would go through fire for and go through torture for.  Anyone in Prythian who would even think about bringing harm to his family, to the lights of his world, they would be dead within a millisecond.  

Eris dropped his glass, which shattered on the floor as Azriel took a second to stand in front of Eris, Truth Teller in hand and pointing right at his throat with a look of death in his eyes. Cassian stayed still, his fingers touching the glass to the point of leaving cracks along the glassware as he too glared at Eris who was now looking in shock at the Shadowsinger who had the tip of his weapon against his throat. 

“I’ll say this now, and I will only say this once: If I hear a single whisper about my family from this Court, from you, I will come back and make sure you will never say anything against them again,” Azriel growled, his voice so low to the point it was almost lethal.  But he didn’t care, not when Eris was looking at him in both fear and shock at the same time. 

He was only thinking of his mate, his son, and the new life he was building for them to simply be safe and happy.

Azriel abruptly pushed the front door open, the familiar scents of his home was filling his nostrils he could smell something roasting in the kitchen.  The soft looks of the walls, the quilt that Elaine made thrown over the couch, and the lavender garden going outside the back window brought Azriel peace again as he heard the pots in the kitchen abruptly clatter and then footsteps were heard coming his way.  

You were there, wearing Alec against your chest in a wrap and a surprised look on your face as Azriel’s face looked relieved and almost to the point of tears as you grinned.  Azriel’s heart was happy again, still beating out of his chest but he was beyond happy.  Seeing you there, seeing Alec safe in their little home, brought the Shadowsinger peace again. 

“Hey,” You said to him as he glided over to you so quickly his shadows were once again catching up to him, “You’re back a bit early, what’s wrong—“

Azriel engulfed you in his arms, carefully avoiding Alec who was fast asleep against your chest as he hugged you close and tightly.  You were shocked, hugging him back after a second of feeling like a statue.  This was not like him, Azriel would simply come through the door with a big grin on his face and take his time un-dressing his leathers and toeing off his boots.  But feeling him cling to you, almost like he thought of you as a mirage that he was afraid would disappear, scared you.

“Az, what’s going on?” You asked him carefully as he pulled away and his eyes shot down to your sleeping son, his hazel eyes looking at Alec and scanning him over.  He sighed, leaning down to kiss the top of your son’s head lovingly and breathing him in.  This was his center, this was his home base, a little being snuggled against his mate and the pair of them tucked away safely in their little home that he would take over any palace.  

“Az, look at me, sweetheart,” You said to him coaxing him to look at you with a finger under his chin.  His eyes looked at you and it was then that you saw pain there on his face, pain and almost worry.  This was not like him, not one bit, “What happened?”

Azriel just inhaled and leaned forward to touch your forehead with his, you remaining calm since you knew it would take his time for him to finally open up and tell you what was on his mind. He finally found his words, feeling you trace his cheeks and jaw with your fingers to almost coax him open for you and let those walls down that he would always have up when he was being the Spymaster.

After confronting Eris and giving him the singular warning, he backed off when Cassian placed a hand on his shoulder.  Rhysand after Cassian explained what happened to him, sent him back to Night Court before he would do anything that would be damaging.  Although Azriel knew that he did cross a line, Rhysand understood.  He ensured Azriel would get home to be centered and collected again, keeping himself and Cassian behind to watch Beron berate Eris and profusely apologize to them.  It was surprising to hear that from High Lord Beron, but then again he too was trying to turn over a new leaf.

Eris made his stance known: he was now a new threat to Night Court and specifically to the Shadowsinger.

After Azriel explained all that happened, you were simply holding his hand and then hugging him close as the sun the setting over little home. It made you scared, the realization that your family was known in other Courts.  You already knew the risk of dating the Spymaster and being connected to him, but now that you had a child with him, the target only got bigger on your back.  You knew why Azriel acted the way he did, how could you stop him?

“Nothing will happen to our family,” Azriel promised you as you held him, you nodding in agreement as he held you a pinch tighter, “I promise you on my life, you and Alec will never be in danger,”

“I know,” You replied, kissing the side of his head over and over, “I know that, baby.  We’re okay, we’re okay now,”

No matter that you three had your own little bubble in Velaris, filled with happiness and joy that every new family had.  The danger was lurking around every corner because of who your family was, and it would stay that way for some time.  All you could do was simply take it daily, moment by moment, knowing that although there was danger, you had safety.  The safety of Rhysand as the High Lord who would move mountains for his family and their well-being.  The safety of the Inner Circle would keep Velaris and Night Court peaceful and filled with joy. 

Most importantly, the safety of your mate that would do anything, be anything, to keep you and your son safe. 

As Azriel tucked Alec into his bassinet that night, kissing his head and watching his son softly snore, Azriel made a vow then and there.  His family would never be in danger.  Not by a pompous Prince from another Court, not by any being filled to the brim with magic.  And while he held you close in your bed, watching the stars twinkle high above the mountaintops that were towering over Velaris, he kept that vow close to his heart.  

Nothing will tear his family away from him.

The End

Tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #acosf #acomaf #acowar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #daddyazrielandalec #writing #fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel acotar #acotar fanfic #daddyazriel

[absolutely-esme]

Monster!Tim Coraline AU Idea

This idea would not leave me alone.

It’s a cross between a meta!/magic!Tim au and a Coraline au.

Before I get into it, I feel like I should explain.  I was on a bit of an Eldritch!Batfamily and Cryptid!Batfamily kick.  Then I found a collection of supernatural Tim aus.  Then I stumbled across a Coraline au.  There’s probably also some inspiration in there from vampire au fics.

It didn’t really jell until the idea occurred to me of a scene where some frightened villain asks Tim “What kind of monster are you?” and Tim says “The hungry kind.”

...

The idea is that somewhere back along the way, Tim’s family tree includes some kind of supernatural creature which may or may not have been an eldritch entity.

The supernatural heritage allows Tim to acquire abilities from other entities he has defeated, and Gotham is absolutely full of the supernatural if you pay attention.

Of course, Tim’s power isn’t all sunshine and rainbows.  It actually comes packaged with some pretty nasty side effects.

One of those side effects is perpetual Hunger.  Tim is always Hungry.  There is no way to stop it.  He eats enough to stay healthy, but he still feels Hunger at all times.  Increasing his food intake will not help and will screw up his metabolism and cause him to need more for normal function.  If this was allowed to spiral out of control it could eventually reach a point where he was physically unable to eat the amount of food he needed to function and starved to death on a full stomach. 

Fixing it is stupid hard because this particular sort of magical inheritance is really fucking inconvenient.  And, of course, whatever is up with his biology also makes him insanely susceptible to addiction, so no coffee for him unless he wants caffeine withdrawal symptoms all the time for however long it takes to fix that.  The constant Hunger also makes it difficult to get enough sleep.  Have you ever tried to go to sleep on an empty stomach?  Not easy, was it?  Imagine that every night.

The Hunger is fairly central to the nature of the magic.  Whatever supernatural entity he’s descended from, it is the Hungry kind.  The ritual of defeating another supernatural entity, taking a bit of the defeated entity’s power, and incorporating it into himself serves as a sort of metaphorical devouring, (and metaphors matter more to magic than they do to normal biology).  That’s why he’s able to gain power and abilities from defeated foes. 

...

Tim’s relationship with his parents is complicated.  His supernatural heritage comes from his mother’s side of the family.  She did her best to teach him about it and how to cope with it, but a lot of knowledge was lost over the generations due to persecution forcing those like them into hiding more than once.  There may have been a few individuals who spiraled out of control and caused small-scale famines before losing their lives.  It only takes a few cases for people to decide that a specific category of people is simply not worth the risk of having around.  Janet always referred to herself and Tim (as well as anyone else sharing the condition) as “those afflicted with Gluttony.”  This is the closest they have to a name for the condition.

One of the important things Janet Drake teaches her son is to pursue his passions.  It is incredibly important for individuals like them to have things outside the self that they can draw satisfaction and fulfilment from, things that keep them going in the face of the relentless Hunger.  This is what leads Tim to his night-time photography of Gotham, and eventually to his fascination with the Bats. 

Janet’s passions are archeology and travel.  Unfortunately, traveling from dig site to dig site is not a particularly stable or safe environment to raise a child in.  She needs to do these things to remain in good health.  Without her external coping mechanisms, she could start spiraling.  If she starts spiraling, it might trigger her son to start spiraling too because children in their developmental years are delicate, and this type of hereditary magic is fucking inconvenient (there might be ways of managing things that make it easier to live with, but between the knowledge lost and the risks that come with experimentation, they don’t have much info on how anything works).  She comes home as much as she can without the risk of compromising both their health.

She also taught Tim how to calculate appropriate portion sizes based on nutritional data so as not to screw up his metabolism, and how to fix it if he does mess up.  She also stayed and managed the process the first time it happened because the process of returning the metabolism of one afflicted with Gluttony to normal after it’s gotten out of hand is difficult and unpleasant and Tim wasn’t old enough to handle it by himself.  The nanny that had overfed him hadn’t been malicious or unreasonable, she’d just been operating on the assumption that he had standard human biology.  It took months to get Tim healthy again.  It took several hefty bribes to keep things under wraps.  Janet doesn’t know if there are still people out there hunting their kind, but she’s not willing to risk it.

Janet may not know about the aspect of the family magic that lets them gain powers from defeating other entities.  It’s possible that she was holding off on explaining this until he was older and more ready for the responsibility of multiple superpowers.  It’s also possible that the knowledge got lost somewhere along the way and Janet didn’t discover it herself because she didn’t spend her childhood running around Gotham at night and was more the sort of person who would stay home and read when she had trouble sleeping.

...

Tim discovers his ability to gain abilities from defeating other supernatural things fairly early on.  The type of defeat can vary, but it has to be something of significance.  A fight will work for most, but there are other particular challenges that will work for specific cases.

The first things a young Tim is able to beat are these small things, invisible to most, that gain power from learning secrets.  What that power is used for, I couldn’t tell you.  They don’t seem to do much other than sneak around and learn secrets.  Tim doesn’t know if there’s a proper name for these things or not, but he calls them Secret Hunters.  They are absolutely everywhere in Gotham. 

Secret Hunters are invisible to most, but Tim is able to see them.  It might be because of his own supernatural nature, or it might be something else entirely.  If it’s hereditary it must have skipped his parents’ generation.  Neither of them seem to be able to see them.  Tim gains improved stealth and a sense for when something is hidden from catching Secret Hunters until they wise up and start avoiding him.  (Catching them works in place of a fight because secret hunters primarily operate on stealth and evasion.)

He can’t just magically know secrets, but he can tell when there is a secret.  (He still figured out Batman’s and Robin’s secret identities on his own merit.  The most this ability would have done is alert him to the fact that they had secret identities if that hadn’t already been obvious from the fact that they were wearing masks.)

He also gets various other abilities from other things he encounters while scrambling all over Gotham at night.  Nearly doesn’t get out of some of the scrapes he gets himself into.  He gains the ability to cut with his fingernails as if they were razors from something that nearly killed him.  He gains the ability to climb like a goat from a Jersey Devil.  Etc.

...

At some point, Tim is targeted by a beldam.  He doesn’t get the kind of warnings that Coraline does, but his ability to sense secrets lets him know that the Beldam is hiding something, and any child raised in any part of Gotham knows to be suspicious of things that seem too good to be true.  Tim doesn’t have a convenient seeing stone from the neighbor, but he does have the advantage of his own supernatural nature which the Beldam doesn’t know about.

Tim finds a button-eyed doll that looks like him after his parents leave on yet another trip, and thinks it’s a gift they meant to give him before leaving.  They do often bring interesting souvenirs.  It wouldn’t be at all unusual for them to find an artist who sews dolls to look like people and have one made based on pictures of him.  Later on, he discovers the key. 

This Beldam is older and more powerful than the one from Coraline.  She has more power and more past victims to work with, so she’s able to make a larger, more populated world. 

Oh by the way, I head-canon that the Other versions of people in the Other world are actually past victims of the Other Mother, remade and dressed up for whatever role she has them play.  The three ghosts were just the three most recent and not fully processed for use yet.  That’s why the Others are able to act against her sometimes (Other Wybie saving Coraline from the mirror, Other Father tossing the eye to Coraline) or say things she doesn’t want them too (Other Father says “so sharp you won’t feel a thing” and Other Mother kicks him under the table).

The Other Mother doesn’t know all that Tim knows, so the Other World has inconsistencies like Other Batman and Other Robin sitting across the table from Other Bruce and Other Jason.  She doesn’t know they’re the same people.  She just knows that they’re all important to Tim.  She also tries to tell him to “eat as much as he wants” when his real mother was the one to explain the dangers of attempting to eat to fullness for people with their condition.

There isn’t a cat to warn Tim but he doesn’t need it.  He can sense hidden intentions in everything, and he’s fully capable of uncovering the hidden secrets himself. 

Tim doesn’t have a cat, but he does have Other Robin, who might have been made from whatever remained of someone close to one of the people mirrored in the Other World made for Tim.  He doesn’t remember his life, but somehow he feels incredibly motivated to help a boy who cares dearly for whoever and is willing to let him know that they're living a good life out there in the real world.

Tim discovers the nature of the other world and sets out to free the souls trapped there.  He fights the Beldam will all the viciousness and desperation of someone who knows they’ve only got one shot.  He takes everything he can from this fight as he makes sure she won’t ever hurt anyone again.  He doesn’t stop until the beldam is well and truly dead.  Then he unravels Other Gotham and spills all of the souls out into the world where they can move on and rest.

This is how Tim learns to Sew.  He can’t make entire populated worlds like the beldam, but that’s mostly because he refuses to do what she did.  He can control things he’s made (though there’s limits on how much) and even see through buttons he’s sewn (onto cushions and such, he's not the Other Mother).  He also gets some minor illusory powers that let him make things look a bit brighter/nicer/cheerier than they are.  It takes quite some time before he’s comfortable with using these powers.  Trauma is a bitch like that.

Part of the reason this version of Tim was so desperate to do something about Batman losing it out of grief is because he already has Evil Batman trauma from Other Batman, and he doesn’t need that shit happening in real Gotham.

By this point Tim has a collection of powers that allow him to navigate the more dangerous parts of Gotham largely without fear.  Now he has to learn how to manage without using any that he isn’t one hundred percent certain he can sneak past Batman, which means he’ll have to divide his attention between learning from the training and not letting himself do things the supernatural way.  This is going to suck.

It does, in fact, suck.

Oh, it turns out some of the rogues are a bit supernatural.  He gains a bit of an intuitive understanding of the health of plants from Ivy.  He gains the ability to taste emotions from Scarecrow.  (Also, Johnathan Crane is a freaking weirdo, fear tastes like spoiled milk!)  The rogues with supernatural tendencies are freaking terrified of the new Robin because he always seems like he wants to freaking eat them.  The non-supernatural types don’t get it.

Eventually, Red hood breaks into Titan’s tower.  Tim, by this point, is very good at deciphering how supernatural entities work and is packing an extensive inventory of powers.  He realizes quickly that this is some kind of manipulative entity that feeds on rage and pain attached to an unwitting host.  When he realizes that the unknowing (and therefore unconsenting) host is Jason Todd, he tells the Lazarus Entity in no uncertain terms to give Jason back or perish.

Jason, who does not realize he has a malicious, mind-warping, supernatural parasite and believes there to be no one other than himself and Tim present, is understandably confused.

Tim decides that the Lazarus entity has had its chance and springs into action.

Jason is treated to the terrifying sight of just what Tim Drake is like when he’s not expending conscious effort on not being something out of a horror movie.  Suddenly he’s in the middle of a spider’s web and no matter how hard he tries to fight back everything around him is under the control of his opponent.  Furniture flies around on puppet strings.  Getting too close puts him in range of the freaking claws this kid apparently has!?  Trying to get away just leaves him caught in strings and the more he struggles the more entangled he becomes!  The new Robin is skittering and gliding around in a decidedly inhuman way. 

Jason honestly thinks he's going to die when he finds himself bound with Tim standing over him.  He passes out when Tim rips the Lazarus entity away from him and destroys it. 

Tim gains the ability to heal from defeating the Lazarus entity.

Jason is surprised and confused when he wakes up bundled in a handmade quilt with his head in Tim’s lap and a cool compress on his forehead, feeling sore but more well and whole than he has since before he died.

Jason later decides that his memories of the fight at Titans Tower must be some kind of weird fever dream caused by his body purging the last of the Lazarus Water from his system. It goes along with Tim's account of things.

According to Tim, Jason entered the tower, initiated a lock-down, and then collapsed on the floor. Then, Tim moved him closer to a wall where he was less likely to get stepped on than in the middle of the walkway and did his best to take care of him there because Jason was simply too large and heavy for him to carry all the way to the med bay by himself.

This is far more believable and less of a mind screw than what Jason remembers. Obviously this tiny, baby-faced kiddo who played nursemaid for a stranger who broke into the tower and now looks up at him with wide, starry eyes couldn't actually be the terrifying, predatory creature from the nightmare. It was all just a bad dream.

He's honestly glad he collapsed before he had time to do any harm. The poor kid will never have to know what Jason went there to do. Jason knows, though, and he'll do his damned best to make up for it. He may have flubbed first impressions, but he is going to be the best damn big brother that ever big brothered.

...

Tim might or might not go full on feral cryptid when Bruce is lost in the Timestream. I haven't decided. He will probably pick a fight with the Lazarus Pit much to the confusion and alarm of everyone around.

That’s all I’ve got so far.

#DC #batfamily #batfam #Cryptid Tim Drake #Eldritch Tim Drake #meta Tim Drake #Coraline au #eldritch au #feral tim drake #His illusion powers are mostly used to make himself look cute innocent and nonthreatening #There are no recordings to contradict Tim's account of what went down in the tower #Every recording device in the vicinity malfunctioned #even the ones Tim “didn't know about” #odd coincidence #whatcha gonna do #at some point the LOA is going to watch utterly baffled #as a sleep deprived gremlin fights a massive green blob monster that they'd thought was an inert pool of liquid #they try to demand explanations #all they get is “It knows what it did.” #Tim Drake confuses everyone #why is he like this #Hungry Monster Tim AU

[mysterycitrus]

All of your Bruce takes are so real and so true. It must break your back having to carry the weight of being the most correct batman account on this website. 🙏🏻 I love your thoughts about Bruce and Dick in particular and I was wondering if you had any thoughts about Bruce and Damian? Something about them is just… oh boy.

that’s very sweet but untrue, anon 🫰

i love damian and bruce's relationship, but it's hard to talk about without mentioning two other crucial people - talia and dick. for my own sanity i only accept damian's conception as a consensual act, so in this context talia is a fundamentally well-meaning person who attempted to protect her son from a violent life, and hid his existance from bruce until she felt he could be safe. damian loves and respects his mother. this is important.

dick, on the other hand, is really the foundation for their relationship. bruce spent like two weeks with this kid before he went on his timestream roadtrip and left everything behind for dick to juggle. contrary to popular opinion, i think it's a real disservice to act like dick taught damian to "be a good person" or like basic etiquette - a more realistic interpretation would be that dick taught damian that he didn't have to prove himself to be worth something.

the robin mantle from the time it was taken from dick has always been about proving yourself to bruce, to justify your role as his partner. always unfairly, mind (think how tim is treated vs. steph, for example), but damian is the first robin's robin. dick isn't a wayne, he's a grayson. there's an interesting point of comparison being that dick is the only robin who had a clear trajectory for his life prior to his parents dying - he was a core member of the worlds greatest acrobatic troupe - but he then left that path to become something else. damian is destined for the bat, but becomes robin instead, serving beside someone who achieved greatness by his own skill and kindness. damian has been told about his father, and here he is with someone who knows bruce better than anyone but also understands what robin means, better than anyone. i cannot emphasise how important i think dick being damian's first batman is for their own development. it's so so crucial to combat damian's perspective on family and blood. it's so important that he has that foundational knowledge of what robin means.

by the time bruce returns, damian has made tangible human connections in gotham. he's not the prickly, reactive kid that bruce first met. he's allowed himself to trust that the people around him have his best interests in mind. he knows that he isn't cared for because he's bruce's son - he's cared for because he's worth loving. his siblings aren't competition for affection or honour. he no longer sees bruce as an omnipotent force, and rather as a man he could learn to love. i think seeing bruce through both talia and dick's persepectives really helps with that.

bruce i think is confronted by the fact that for the first time in his life he can't try and hide behind the "im not really xyz's father" excuse. not that his adopted kids aren't his kids, obviously, but i do think he sometimes tries to lean on that as a crutch so he doesn't get attached (way too late for that lol). he loves damian, and there's a lot of fear about damian reflecting his worst habits, his most self-destructive behaviours back at him. maybe there's some fear about damian's history of killing, and how close bruce himself always feels to that edge. maybe there's misery about missing one of his kids growing up, again, like he's always a second too late to the important moments. bruce and damian are so similar, but this is bruce's second chance to be there. he is thomas wayne, emerging from the alley alive. do u think damian looks like his grandparents?

#sorry this mostly ended up being about dick again oops #damian wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #batman #robin #dc comics #the ask and the answer #also i have spondylitis so my back would literally give out

[nanawritesit]

Obey Me! Dateables: Dating a fem!MC with a Kid (Platonic w/ Luke)

Characters: Diavolo, Solomon, Barbatos, Luke, and Simeon

TW: mother!reader, light cursing, kissing, mentions of food, Solomon suggestively calls reader mommy bc he’s Solomon

Y/D/N = Your daughter’s name

Y/S/N = Your son’s name

——————

Diavolo:

You were walking up the steps of the palace, your suitcase in one hand and your tiny daughter’s hand in the other. After you and Diavolo had made your relationship official, he insisted on moving you and your daughter into the palace. The brothers were sad to see the two of you leave the House of Lamentation, but knew you’d be well taken care of at the palace. Diavolo would make absolute sure of that.

“Dia!” your daughter cheered as you entered the palace, releasing your hand and running up to your boyfriend.

He chuckled and knealt down with his arms stretched out to catch her, then lifted her up in the air and twirled her around. “Hello my little princess!”

You smiled warmly at how affectionate he was with your child, making your way over to them.

He shifted your daughter to rest on his hip, holding her with one arm, and wrapped the other around your waist, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “And hello to my beautiful queen.”

“Diavolo, we’re not even married yet.” you laughed.

“As if that diminishes my affection for you.” he scoffed playfully.

“Dia! I want to see my new room!” your daughter cried, tapping his shoulder repeatedly.

“Okay, okay, let’s go upstairs!” he decreed, motioning you all up the grand staircase.

“What about the rest of our stuff?” you asked. There was still a full truck full of your belongings that needed to be brought inside.

“The movers will bring it all in love. It’s alright.” he chuckled, taking your hand.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to being waited on.” you sighed, rolling your eyes.

“I will!” your daughter declared. You both laughed at her enthusiasm before walking down a long hallway to your daughter’s new bedroom. Diavolo set her down and opened the door, flourishing his arm to show off the room. You and your daughter both gasped.

“Oh my gosh! I love it!” your little girl squealed, running inside.

The bedroom was a little girl’s dream. There was a huge pink lace canopy bed, a wall of stuffed animals, a walk in closet full of pretty clothes, a tv and gaming area, and a chest chocked full of toys.

“I know it’s not much, but it’s enough to start out.” your boyfriend beamed next to you.

You whipped your head around to gawk at him. “Are you kidding? This is more than enough. In fact, she doesn’t need all of this.”

“Yes I do!” your daughter refuted, jumping up into her enormous bed.

You were about to argue, but Diavolo placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. You looked into his eyes which were sparkling with sincerity. “We’ll talk about it later.” he whispered.

You nodded, sighing as you looked around the room. Of course, you wanted your little girl to have the best, but you also didn’t want her turning into a spoiled princess.

Later on, after unpacking all of your belongings and eating a fantastic dinner served by Barbatos, you had put your daughter to sleep and were unwinding in your new master suite with Diavolo. He was undressing at the bed and you were going through your nightly routine at your vanity.

“So, can we talk about you spoiling my daughter rotten now?” you laughed, only half serious.

“Yes, my love.” he smiled, removing his tie. “I know it’s a bit much. But I just want you guys to have the life you deserve.”

“We already do Diavolo.” you grinned, turning around to face him. “We’re healthy, and happy, and we’re together. That’s enough.”

He smiled affectionately, walking over and kneeling down in front of you to grab your hands. He looked you in the eye before he continued. “If you’re worried about her becoming a spoiled brat, don’t worry. There’s ways we can teach her to be humble and have gratitude. And if she’s anything like you, she’ll remain kind and compassionate towards others.”

You blushed slightly at his compliment, looking down at your lap. “I just don’t want her thinking that the life I gave her before wasn’t good enough.” you practically whispered, voice trembling slightly.

“Oh, my love…” he sighed, gripping onto your hands sympathetically. “That won’t happen. One day she’ll understand the sacrifices you’ve made for her in the past. But she’s just a girl now. I promise you, everything will be okay.”

“Okay, I believe you.” you exhaled with a small smile.

“That’s my queen.” he praised, kissing you on the forehead. He then hoisted you up from your chair and carried you over to the bed. You were giggling and feigning protest the whole time, until he tossed you into the bed and crawled over top of you. He began peppering kisses all over your face and down your neck, the last one being on your lips. “I’m going to take such good care of you both. I promise.”

You sighed in contentment, ruffling his auburn hair. “I love you so much, my wonderful Lord.”

“I love you too, my beautiful queen.”

Solomon:

“Solomon! Mommy!” your son cheered when he saw you walk through the entrance of his daycare. He began to run over to you with his arms outstretched.

You giggled at his enthusiasm, kneeling down to catch him. You picked him up and placed him on your hip, looking at him with an affectionate grin. “Did you have a good day today?”

Your little boy nodded, then glanced between the two of you. “Did you guys have fun at school?”

Solomon chuckled mischievously before answering him. “Yes we did, especially mommy.”

You rolled your eyes and hit him on the shoulder lightly. “Hush, Simeon! He doesn’t need to know about that.”

“About what?” your son asked you curiously.

“Nothing honey, come on, let’s go.” you told him, making your way out of the day care with a snickering Solomon slinking behind you.

“Mommy made something explode in potions class today.” Solomon blurted out, catching up with you on the sidewalk. You whipped your head around and glared at him, setting your son down.

“Really mommy? That sounds so cool!” he marveled excitedly.

“It was not cool, honey…” you explained, brushing his hair out of his face. “Mommy needs to brew a successful potion in order to pass the class.” You grabbed your sons’ hand to cross the street, and he instinctively reached for Solomon’s at the same time. He always wanted to be between the two of you so you could swing him up in the air.

“Well, Solomon’s a good sorcerer!” your son giggled between jumps. “Why don’t you have him teach you, mommy?”

“Yeah honey, why don’t you?” your boyfriend teased, glancing over at you with a shit-eating grin.

You bit your tongue to keep from snapping at him in front of your child. “Because, dearest boyfriend of mine, I want to pass the class on my own. I’m never going to be a good sorcerer if I always have to rely on Solomon.” you explained through gritted teeth.

“Well, I think you’re a great sorcerer, mommy!” your son praised, looking up at you admiringly. “But there’s nothing wrong with asking for a little help.”

You winced at how sweet your little boy way, kneeling down to take his face in your hands and place a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you, Y/S/N. You’re so sweet and helpful.”

“He gets it from his mother.” Solomon grinned, smiling down at you with sincerity.

You looked up at him, trying to hide the smile that crept its way up your face. You then turned back to your son. “Come on honey, let’s go get some dinner.” you told him, taking his hand and leading him down the sidewalk.

“Or I could make us dinner!” Solomon suggested.

“NO!” you and your child both exclaimed in unison. The three of you all stared at each other blankly for a moment, then burst out into laughter.

“Mommy, can I run to the end of the street?” Y/S/N asked you. You nodded, letting him run off excitedly.

“So, are you going to let me teach you that potion?” Solomon smirked, putting an arm around your waist.

“Fine, fine, you can teach me.” you sighed defeatedly, leaning into his touch. “But I get to decide what we do after.” you winked suggestively.”

“Of course. Anything you want, mommy.”

Barbatos:

Barbatos walked into his bedroom to see his two favorite girls in the entire world curled up in his bed fast asleep. He slowly crept over to your side and sat down next to you, brushing the hair out of your face as he admired your sleeping features. He then gently leaned down and placed a kiss on your cheek, making you shuffle awake.

“Good morning, my darling.” he smiled warmly, placing a hand on your cheek. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Awh, you didn’t have to do that, darling…” you pouted affectionately, placing a hand over his.

“It’s alright, really. With Lord Diavolo away on business, it’s no trouble making breakfast for the three of us.” he reassured you.

You rolled over and shook your daughter awake. She sleepily squinted open her eyes, glancing at the two of you. “Good morning mommy. Good morning Barbie.”

You both chuckled at her nickname for him.

“I’ve made your favorite blueberry pancakes for breakfast this morning, Miss Y/D/N.” Barbatos told her with a grin.

“Oh yay! Thank you Barbie!” she cheered, immediately springing up out of bed and running to the kitchen.

Barbatos laughed at her antics over his shoulder, then turned back around to face you. He opened his mouth to suggest following her, however he never got to do so, as you had grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down on top of you, crashing your lips against him.

“What was that for?” he asked, cheeks turning a shade of light pink.

“For being such an amazing boyfriend, and treating my daughter so well.” you told him with a smirk.

“You don’t have to thank me for either of those things.” he grinned sincerely, shaking his head slightly. “I consider them a privilege.”

“Don’t speak too soon. I think Y/D/N wants to have a tea party today.” you giggled, pushing him off of you to get out of bed.”

“Hey, I happen to think I look fantastic in a tiara and a feather boa!” he shouted behind you, chasing you down the hall playfully. You squealed as you ran away from him, until he caught you and twirled you around in his arms. He placed a tender kiss on your lips, yelling away slowly.

“Can you guys please stop kissing and come eat breakfast with me?!” your little girl scowled from the entrance to the kitchen. You both just chuckled, letting Barbatos carry you into the kitchen and plop you down in your chair next to him.

Luke:

“Y/N! Hurry up, we’re gonna be late!” Asmo whined from the doorway. You glared over at him, your son still in your arms.

“In a minute. I need to say goodbye to my little boy.” you practically hissed.

“I’m sorry…” he pouted, backing off. “But Thirteen has the limo waiting outside!”

“Okay, I’ll be down in a second.” you told him, softening slightly.

Asmodeus and Thirteen had insisted on taking you out for a “girls’ night’ saying that you worked too hard and needed a night of fun. You were happy to go, although you were a little nervous about leaving your son for the night. However, the fact that Luke offered to babysit made you feel a lot better. The two were practically best friends, and Luke was highly responsible with him.

“I’m here!” Luke suddenly chimed from the doorway. He took in your glamorous appearance for a moment. “Oh, you look so beautiful!”

“Awh, thanks Luke!” you smiled, standing up and adjusting your dress. “Your timing is impeccable, I was just about to head out.”

“Hi Luke!” your son cheered, running over to him and hugging his knees.

“Hi Y/S/N! Are you ready to have some fun together while mommy is out?” Luke asked him, patting his back.

“Yes! You can go now mommy.” your son instructed, pushing you out the door.

“Okay, okay, one second baby!” you laughed, gripping onto the doorway in protest. “Thank you so much for doing this Luke. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no trouble at all! I love this little guy!” the angel beamed, waving to you. “Now go have fun!”

You had a great time at the club, until it was time to leave and Asmo and Thirteen were shit-faced. You were sober of course, being immune to the effects of Demonus, and had dragged them back to Purity Hall with you. You decided it would be too hard to get them back to their own separate houses and threw them into your guest room together. After tucking them in, you made your way down the hall to Luke’s room.

You slowly creaked the door open and tiptoed in to see Luke passed out on the bed next to your son. Ever since you arrived in the Devildom, your son didn’t like sleeping alone. Luke knew this, and offered to have a “sleepover” with him in his bedroom so he wouldn’t feel embarrassed asking to sleep with him.

You smiled affectionately at the sight of the two of them so peacefully asleep next to one another. You crept over to the bed and placed a small kiss on both of their foreheads. “Goodnight, my sweet boys.” you whispered. You then walked across the hall to go knock on Simeon’s door and ask if you could bunk with him for the night.

Simeon:

“Alright, wash your hands sweetie!” Simeon instructed, placing a stool against the sink for your daughter to stand on.

“Okay Simey!” she replied, hopping up to do as he said.

You smiled as you tied your apron around your waist. Simeon had bought matching ones for the three of you specifically for this occasion.

Your daughter was obsessed with Simeon’s baking. To her, his desserts were the best in the universe. And she honestly wasn’t wrong. A few days ago, while you were all eating the cupcakes he made, your daughter asked if he could teach her how he made them. Simeon, who absolutely adored your daughter, was happy to oblige, and now that it was the weekend, here you were doing so.

“Mommy! Wash your hands too!” your little girl instructed you.

“Okay, I’m coming!” you chuckled, tying your hair up quickly before rushing over to the sink.

“Alright, are we all clean?” Simeon asked, drying his hands. You both nodded. “Okay, let’s move over to the counter and start on the batter!”

You scooted your daughters’ stool over so she could help, placing her between the two of you. Simeon began going through the recipe, teaching your daughter how to measure the ingredients and carefully dump them into the mixing bowl. You were the designated mixer, stirring the batter after each addition.

“You’re a natural, Y/D/N!” Simeon praised your daughter as she measured the sugar all by herself.

“Thanks Simey!” she replied, a happy grin wide on her face. “Mommy’s doing a good job mixing too, isn’t she?”

“Yes she is.” Simeon smiled, looking at you overtop of her head. He shot you a playful wink, making you blush slightly.

“Do you want Simey to teach you how to crack an egg?” you asked your little girl, wiping your hands on your apron.

“Yeah! He does it so cool!” she cheered, glancing over at Simeon excitedly.

He couldn’t help the flustered grin that made its way onto his expression, chuckling as he grabbed the egg carton. “Thank you so much, sweetheart. But it takes a bit of practice to do it well! You have to tap the middle of the egg on the edge of the counter, hard enough to break the shell but light enough so that it won’t explode. Then, you dig your thumbs into the crack and pull the shell apart, letting the egg fall out.” Simeon explained, doing the steps as he said them. The egg landed perfectly into the mixing bowl, making the two of you gasp in awe and applaud him. He did a little bow while laughing, then handed one to Y/D/N. “Your turn.”

“Yay!” your daughter exclaimed, lining the egg up with the end of the counter.

“Just be careful sweetie, don’t-“ you started, but were interrupted by the egg splattering all over the counter. “Hit it too hard…” you sighed in defeat.

“I’m sorry Simey…” your daughter said meekly, glancing up at Simeon with wide, teary eyes.

“Awh, it’s okay sweetie, really!” Simeon reassured her, grabbing a washcloth to wipe up the egg. “You should’ve seen the first egg I ever cracked. Mine exploded so bad that it ended up on the ceiling of Archangel Michael’s kitchen!”

“Wow, really?” she giggled, wiping her eyes with her arm.

“Yeah, really! It’s okay, hardly anyone does it right on the first try.” he explained, patting her on the shoulder. “I’ll do the egg cracking just this once, then you can try again next time, okay?”

“Okay Simey!” she smiled. “Can I mix them in, mommy?”

“Sure, sweetie.” you told her, handing her the mixing spoon. Once she was occupied, you looked over at Simeon with an appreciative smile. “Thank you.” you mouthed silently. He nodded with a grin, cracking the rest of the eggs.

Once the batter was done, you poured it into the cupcake liners and placed the tray in the oven. Then you told Y/D/N she could go play for a little bit while you and Simeon washed the dishes.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” you told him, elbows deep in soapy water.

“What do you mean?” he chuckled, glancing over at you as he rinsed a plate.

“You’re so good with Y/D/N. She absolutely adores you.” you explained. “And so do I.”

He pouted affectionately, setting down his dish to pull you in for a hug. He kissed the top of your head lovingly, then each of your cheeks. Finally, he took your face in his wet hands and placed a kiss on your lips, deepening it slightly at the end. “Well I absolutely adore you guys too. I’m the luckiest angel in the world.”

You grinned at him lovingly, then leaned in for another kiss. You didn’t care that your cheeks were wet, or that you were getting soap on his apron. Right now you were simply lost in your love for him.

“The cupcakes will be done soon, love...” he whispered, forehead pressed against yours.

“No, I think they need a few more minutes…” you refuted, pulling him back down by the collar to crash your lips against his once again.

#obey me imagines #obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfic #obey me fluff #diavolo imagine #diavolo x reader #solomon imagines #solomon x reader #barbatos imagines #barbatos x reader #luke obey me #simeon imagines #simeon x reader #diavolo fluff #barbatos fluff #simeon fluff #solomon fluff #obey me headcanons

[findingnemosworld]

𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤 𝐬𝐳𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐳𝐥𝐚𝐢

• 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐦𝐞.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐫𝐭 ... 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐩*𝐫𝐧.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤, ( 𝐢 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤 )

( 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 )

he lived, ate and breathed football – yet in the midst of it all, he had her.

the relationship he had with his father wasn’t what you’d call a normal relationship, a well intricate bond built solely on his father’s wish for his son to become the best footballer there is; it seemed to work, dominik had firmly believed that football is the only way to gain his father’s approval, often times becoming so immersed in his chase to perfection that he barely noticed the fatigue and emotional distress crawling through towards him.

that is until he met her.

their first encounter happened on a summer day, he’d returned home from training when a curly haired brunette around his age had caught his eye, she was sitting out on the porch of the next door residence while his mother chatted with a woman, he assumed to be her mother, their eyes met and for what felt like an eternity, a sense of relief washed over him as the six year old girl waved at him with a broad smile, he tentatively waved back mirroring her smile before walking back into his home.

that was the day everything had changed …

in the midst of the chaos, in the midst of all the pressure he endured to become the best player his father knew he’d be, she was right there to soothe every wound.

their friendship was private, as his father had somewhat instilled the notion that any outside interferences would be considered a hinder to his dream, a dream he was often unsure if he truly wanted.

yet she, she’d constantly inspire him; remind him that everyone that had been put on earth has a purpose, his just so happened to be that of being on the pitch with a ball between his feet.

every match he had participated in, she was there to cheer him on, dressed in his jersey carrying a different sign every time he spotted her – it might have seemed normal to an outside spectator, those two were merely friends, however for him she had long crossed onto a different bridge, she was more than just a friend, in all of the darkness the world has to offer, she was the light, she was his light.

at first he firmly believed he’d untangle himself from the emotions he’d chucked down to being a teenage crush; yet, on her eighteenth birthday which fell a week after his he knew he was a goner, he was and still is madly in love with her, their families spent the night together and she had decided that they’d sneak out into the backyard of her home and that’s when she admitted the secret she has been withholding for a while.

" i met someone "

three syllables, akin to a knife that penetrated his heart, his brows knit in confusion as he tries to make sense of what he had heard, she, the angelic entity, the reason he was able to push through everything that had been placed in his path was with someone else, someone who gets to kiss her, who gets to love her; he hung his head down for a brief second before lifting it up to meet her gaze, a broad faux smile across his lips. " who is it? " he asks, hoping his voice didn’t come off as shaky.

" he’s name is tomas, my classmate " she responds, the gentleness in her tone served to further shatter his heart. " we’ve been seeing one another for two months "

" oh? " he echoed, swallowing the lump in his throat before he added, " i’m happy for you baba "

" it’s not serious but i like him " she states, in an attempt to convince herself, " is that weird or am i crazy? "

" no baba " he replies, placing his hand over her shoulder, " it’s not weird, you’re just discovering your feelings, don’t rush it – just give it time and you’ll understand it in due time "

she nods, " you’re right " she said with a smile before adding on, " what about you? "

" what about me? " he retorts with a confused expression.

" weren’t you dating that italian instagram model? " she wonders.

" ah " he said then chuckled, " it didn’t work, we wanted different things " — which wasn’t a lie, they’d fallen through due to the fact that every part of him didn’t want that girl, he wanted her yet she wasn’t his; he had to settle on being the best friend. " besides i need to focus on football more "

she nods in understanding, " when’s your final match " she asks.

" a week from now? why? " he wonders.

" so i can book my flight, you don’t think i’m going to miss seeing my best friend fight for the championship " she giggles.

" baba, you don’t have to! " he exclaims, " you have school, and the last thing i want is for you to interrupt your life for me "

" i have a week off you idiot, i want to see you play besides … " she said, her lips puckering into a pout, " we haven’t spend time together at all "

he avoids her gaze, silently berating himself for purposefully creating a rift between them, it wasn’t facile by any means, yet he felt like he had to move forward – " you’re right, we haven’t " he murmurs.

" that means i’m spending a week with you and you can’t do anything about it " she states with a soft smile.

it was that night that he knew deep down, he wasn’t escaping her love, no matter how arduous he tried, she would always be there; she was, from austria, the pair moved to germany following her split from tomas, while she secured a job as a ballerina/instructor for young girls — he thrived in his new home that is rb leipzig.

the pair would continue supporting one another in their ventures all the while denying that their bond had shifted resulting in awkward moments and failed attempts at moving forward, suddenly the fire that’d been brewing had become far too intense to handle.

he’d returned home from a night out with his friends, drained and ready to fall asleep – he walks in to be met with complete silence which was odd given the fact that she normally would be in the living room watching a film or in the kitchen cooking, he didn't think much of it, he removed his shoes and walked further inside, placing his keys into the basket on the counter before walking into the kitchen to grab a glass of water, downing the glass in one gulp he then made his way towards his bedroom when all of a sudden he heard what appeared to be a moan, her moan.

his brows knit in confusion, was she in pain? he wondered - his hand hesitantly reaching over to twist the knob open in order to check in on her; then, the moan that escaped her lips had shifted into a loud cry, 'fuck, fuck ...'

she wasn't in pain, his brain alerted him; his eyes had widened in shock as a surge of desire coursed through his veins, shooting blood straight into his cock, she's touching herself.

leisurely, he twists the knob to open the door wide enough, careful not to make any noise; in that moment, he wished he could engrave this sight in the back of his mind for all eternity, she looked like a work of art, she was a work of art, lying on that bed, bare of any clothing with her slender digits expertly toying with her slick pussy, her lips parted, trembling with whimpers, moans and cries escaping in response to the clear pleasure that enveloped her.

" fuck dominik "

if he wasn't achingly hard a minute ago, he was right now - there she was, touching herself to him, her hips were rising up to create further friction as she chased her high; just then, her eyes shot open and a gasp escapes her lips as she tries to cover herself, her cheeks were flushed, a look of shame evident across her features. " dominik " she whispers.

he was silent for a minute before asking her with a hoarse voice," why did you stop? "

" i ... " she opened then closed her mouth, unsure of what to make of the situation at hand. " i ... i didn't hear you come in "

" why the fuck didn't you tell me? " he asks, desire dripping from his tone. " why didn't you tell me you were thinking of me too? "

her eyes widened, " what? " she whispers.

instead of responding, dominik proceeds to remove his shirt and pants before he climbed up on top of her bed, caging her between his arms, their eyes locked in an intense gaze before they trailed down to her swollen lips. " baba " he whispers hoarsely, swallowing the lump in his throat, his thumb gently tracing the apple of her cheek. " do you have any idea how long i have been thinking of you? i tried to let you go, every time and i just couldn't; then you decide to live with me, the pure torture of having you close to me; not being able to kiss you, to touch you, it was getting far too intense for me to handle so tell me baba, tell me that you weren't just touching yourself to another person, tell me that i wasn't the only one that felt the tension between us "

his touch sent warmth spreading across every inch of her body, " i ... dom " she whispers.

he rests his forehead on hers, his eyes completely shut as he whispered against her lips, " kérlek, édes lányom, ne törd össze a szívem! "

her slender digits wrap around the chain he wore to tug him close, only a silver of distance between their faces, " please " she whispers.

his lips curl into a broad smile, " you have no idea how long i have dreamt of this moment " he utters each syllable with a deep groan, closing the distance between them with a searing passionate kiss, never in his wildest dreams did he think it would happen yet it did, and he planned on taking full advantage of every moment.

from the sounds she made in response to his touch, to her delectable lips that were akin to a drug, this was everything he could have hoped for and then some, " you taste so delicious kislány, so addicting " he murmurs against her lips, one hand gripping her waist with clear force.

" domi " she moans in response, eliciting a groan from him.

" i can't wait any longer " he grunts, rolling them around in which he was now on his back whilst she was on top of him, " take it out baba, take my cock out kérlek, need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock "

spurred by the desire enveloping the two of them, she pulls his boxers down to free his cock from the constraints - her gaze trails down to see the entire length flushed to the very tip which leaked of clear desire, tentatively she wraps her hand around his cock eliciting a hiss from his lips; then she swiped her thumb over his slit collecting the spec of his arousal in order to lubricate the sensitive skin, " domi, you're so big "

" yeah " he breathed out, releasing a strangled moan, " why don't you push it in then? "

" will it fit? " she asks, hesitance evident through her tone.

he smirks, " we'll make it fit, i just need to feel that warm pussy around my cock "

despite the hesitance, she opted to move forward, carefully aligning the length of his cock to her slick walls - she leisurely sits down, the pair releasing an unanimous moan at the friction caused by his cock penetrating her walls. " oh " she whimpers.

" baba " he moans, his hands gripping her waist. " baba, olyan mennyei érzés így körém tekeredni. " he whispers, his chest rising and falling at a gentle pace. " this is everything i could have dreamt of baba, you on top of me like this "

she stills for a moment, her gaze trailing over his chest, landing on the chain he wore, he seemed to have noticed as well which prompted him to remove it then say, " wear it, want to see you ride my cock while you're wearing it " he moans, thrusting upwards.

she whimpers, the sight of chain around her neck and the pendant landing in between the valley of her breasts was more than enough for him to let out another moan, " fuck, you're perfect " he whispers, gripping her waist, " come on baba, bounce on my cock, want to see your pussy swallowing my cock entirely "

she nods, releasing a soft sigh before she set a leisure pace, moving up and down while his grip on her waist remained as tight as it was, she whines softly, " domi, your cock is big "

" i know baba, but you can handle it, i know you can " he cooed, one hand reaching up to squeeze her breasts then toy with her nipples eliciting a soft cry from her. " te vagy az én jó kislányom, csakis az enyém "

the intensity of this moment, coupled with the delicious friction of his cock seething in and out of her walls sent her on a perfect edge, caught between the euphoria of his touch as well as the fact that after years of fighting back, they'd finally given in to what they felt for one another, " domi, i need you to touch me " she whimpers.

he chuckles darkly, teasing her by caressing her inner thigh with his palm. " where do you want me to touch you baba? " he asks, his tone dripping with a teasing glint. " you have to guide me "

" domi " she whines, " please, touch me " she continued moving up and down in an attempt to chase her high.

" you have to use your words baba " he tuts with a mocking tone, " i can't touch you if i don't know where to touch you "

fueled by anger and desire, she grabs his hand guiding it to her clit eliciting another chuckle, " now that wasn't so hard, wasn't it baba? " his thumb begins to rub circles around the sensitive bud eliciting soft whines from her lips. " look at you, taking my cock like the good girl you are, think you can go harder baba hm? "

she whines, " fuck, just like that " her eyes were tightly shut as she threw her head back.

" answer me baba " he rubs her clit harder, " you think you can bounce harder than that, show me that you want this cock, i know you do, you've been fucking yourself just now "

she nods; through labored breaths she ups the pace, letting out strangled whimpers and moans. " domi, i am going to cum " she whispers.

" i can feel it baba, you're squeezing my cock with your delicious pussy " he whispers hoarsely, further adding more friction on her clit, " come on, baba ... cum for me "

her thrusts grew rapid; in turn sloppy until she let out a rather obscenely loud cry as the knot in her abdomen erupts, " fuck ... just like that, just like that "

he watched her, with pure adoration before he said through strangled moans, " baba, i need your lips " he paused before adding on, " need your lips around my cock "

with a lazy smile, she moves from his lap to situate herself between his legs, her hand wrapped around his cock while her lips snuggly wrap around the tip eliciting a whine from him, " jesus baba, ... just like that, you have no idea how many nights i wanted this ... " he sighs, " my hand could only do so much "

his last phrase sent shockwaves to her still very sensitive pussy, spurring her to take more of his cock inside her mouth, the tip hitting the back of her throat causing him to thrust forward releasing a deep groan, " fuck "

her tongue traced every prominent vein while he withered under the effect of her lips along with her tongue, his digits thread through her hair to create a makeshift ponytail while he watched her take his cock through half lidded eyes, every nerve of his body lit up with desire for her, " such a good girl, keep sucking, i'm almost there ... oh fuck " his head sinks further into the pillow, " just like tha- oh fuck " he grunts upon feeling her her hand massage his balls, " baba, oh my god your hand is so soft, keep going ... fuck "

of all the art she had witnessed in her lifetime, nothing could come close to the sight of dominik, the boy she knew as reserved, composed and quite in control, right now be reduced to a whimpering mess, she continued her ministrations using both her mouth and tongue as well as her hand on his balls till she felt his cock twitch in her mouth before he lets out a loud grunt, his cock releasing ropes of arousal down her throat, she laps up every drop before pulling back, a trail of spit connecting her mouth to his tip.

he then tugs her up, her body laid directly over his, " that was ... " he whispers before chuckling.

" long over due " she giggled, pecking his lips.

he deepens the kiss, " far too long " he smirks before adding on as he stroked her hair. " baba, i mean it " he whispers. " you've been my beacon of light since the day we met, and i can't see a life without you "

she smiled softly, " so what does that mean? "

" that means " he trails off, releasing a soft breath, " you're my girl, my work of art "

she kissed him once more, " signed, sealed and delivered "

#dominik szoboszlai #dominik szoboszlai imagine #dominik szoboszlai smut #dominik szoboszlai fanfiction #dominik szoboszlai fanfic #dominik szoboszlai one shot

[spacebarbarianweird]

I know you probably have a deluge of requests, but may I add Astarion/Male Drow Tav headcannons to the list? SFW or NSFW, either one!

Ok, I usually don't do M!Tav but I think it would be a nice change since I mostly write fem!Tav (and especially OC Tav). Besides, relationship with a Drow is always an interesting gender dynamics!

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x M!Drow!Tav

You are that third son who is up to be killed since you can't be used even for giving your mother-matriarch more female descendants.

You were spared though and given to serve Lolth.

The day of your iniciation approaches and you know one thing for sure.

You will fail the Lolth test. You will be turned into a deranged monster, a Drider, and suffer from madness and pain till your long elven days come to an end.

You decide to run.

Besides, there are rumors about drow men who have managed to do that.

It takes you almost a year to find your way to the surface and you immediately get blinded by the sun.

You don't know how to make decisions for yourself, you are afraid of the Lolth curse, and you see spies and scouts in every Drow you encounter.

And you have no fucking clue how to lead this small party of weirdos you end up with.

You still try - you are so desperate to make it work, that you become a leader (and even think your mother would have been proud of you, after all)

Even though you are the smallest in the group (what, 5.2 is absolutely normal for a male drow! You are even called 'tall as a woman'!)

Astarion tries to play on your own insecurities, your fears, your anxieties.

Sweet words, praise. You don't need much to seduce a young drow.

But Astarion has one trait he hates to admit.

He enjoys taking care of others.

And he enjoys taking care of you - and he is actually ready to fight drows should they come for you.

It takes him some time to realize he, indeed, loves you. And he isn't sure how you'd take his confession.

Well, he expected anything but not tears.

But in the end, you forgive him and you end up together, promising to protect each other from evil.

Though, Astarion almost decides to ascend. Mostly because he isn't sure if a spawn can protect his beloved from Lolth.

He still makes a choice not to ascend and you end up cradling him through the night since he needs to mourn all the decades he's lost.

Once it's all over, return to the Underdark is out of the question. And you decide to get somewhere far enough not to think of your clan coming for your soul.

And somewhere Astarion can walk freely.

NSFW undercut

You are at the bottom. It wasn't actually something you'd discussed, you just ended up on your fourth in the clearance while having your ass pounded.

Sometimes Astarion is tender, sometimes he's rough - and you don't actually know what to expect from your lover.

Ever since his vampiric strength has returned, he often makes love to you standing. And the session can last for a very long period because he can't get exhausted.

Probably, the most embarrassing moment for you was when Astarion offered to give you a head (since you didn't finish).

The way your cock disappeared in his mouth and the way he maintained eye contact were unexpected, that's for sure.

Later, you asked Astarion to teach you how to give a blowjob, and you enjoyed the process much more than you initially thought.

@tugoslovenka  

@herstxrgirl 

@herdarkestnightelegance  

@vixstarria 

@not-so-lost-after-all  

@marcynomercy  

@theearthsfinalconfession 

@starlight-ipomoea    

@micropoe10 

@astarion-imagine-archive  

@veillsar

@elora-the-slutty-songstress  

@fayeriess  

@lumienyx  

@tallymonster    

@caitlincat-95  

@tragedybunny  

@valeprati  

@lynnlovesthestars   

@marina-and-the-memes  

@waking-eyes   

@ayselluna  

@connorsui  

@asterordinary  

@darkarchangel96  

@locallegume  

@brainfullofhotsauce   

@coffeeanddonutscafe  

@my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen 

@queenofthespacesquids  

@ednaaa-04  

@dajeong

@wilteddreamsofbaldursgate

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion headcanon #astarion headcanons #spacebarbarian headcanon #drow tav #male drow #dnd drow #male tav #astarion x male tav #astarion x you #astarion x male reader #astarion x male oc #baldurs gate 3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion baldurs gate #astarion baldurs gate 3

[amuromi]

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐓 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 7.0k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! modern!au, semi-established to established relationship (fwb to locked in), pet names (baby, baby girl, princess), fingering, overstimulation

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ This was partially inspired by this little snippet so everyone say thank you Miss Ginger! @ginger4sugar

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

Armin is out front. It’s dead quiet and pitch black aside from the sparse dotting of streetlight and the fluorescent haze of the neighbor’s porch light that activated as soon as Armin mosied his ass up the front walkway. He can’t seem to hold still, swaying and bouncing on the balls of his feet. Either dizzy with alcohol–hopefully not because you heard the loud slamming of his car door before your doorbell announced him–or high on nerves. Probably the latter as he runs his hand through his hair before stuffing it back into the pockets of his sweatpants, then he seems to think better of it and rings the doorbell again. 

He knows that you know he’s there. The Ring notification pops up on your phone as you view the live feed of him milling around on your front stoop. He knows just as much as he knows you won’t be letting him in. He can stay out there all night, and knowing Armin he just might. Because he’s annoying and stubborn and will do anything to prove his point when he thinks he’s right. Even if that means sleeping on the welcome mat instead of walking the twenty feet back to his car and driving home. 

He has his own place. A nice apartment about fifteen minutes away and your locked door isn’t inhibiting him from going there. And honestly, you don’t much care where he goes as long as it’s somewhere off your property. There’s no sense in doing something as stupid as calling the cops on a guy like Armin. He smiles like he swallowed the sun, all bright teeth and half-moon eyes that would lull even the most hardened officer into giving him a light scolding at best. Yeah, calling the police would only serve to make you look like the crazy one for calling the authorities because your not-really-boyfriend showed up at your door. And his cooing and whining theatrics haven’t drawn the attention of any nosy neighbors, so there isn’t any use holding out hope that someone else will make the call for you. 

It shouldn’t be so hard to get him to leave but he clearly doesn’t respect your authority over your own house. Well, your parents’ house that you’ve been put in charge of while they’re out of town for a while. They’re gone and he knows it–why had you mentioned their anniversary trip to him?–but that’s just as well seeing as your mother would’ve let him in the moment she heard it was him knocking. She dotes on him like he’s her own son, always making heavy handed allusions to your future together. A house of your own, a dog, maybe some children because “isn’t Armin so good with kids?” Of course your whole family loves him because he’s managed to weasel his way into way too many family gatherings, tagging along at your mother’s request because surely, he can’t upset his future mother-in-law. He always beams when he says it like it’s not a joke, like he’s dead serious about being your husband someday. It’s enough to make your head spin when he shows up with that pretty boy smile of his to help set up tables out back and play with your little cousins once everyone arrives. 

It’s all far too milquetoast for the type of relationship you and Armin actually have. A pleasant fantasy propped up on half-truths and short glimpses of your time spent as Armin’s kinda-girlfriend. Most of it is marred with sweat and the scent of sex, but little beyond that if you can help it. The doorbell rings through the empty house again, another notification popping up on your phone. And there’s Armin in the camera. Clearly, upset with the audacity–the nerve!–you have to keep him locked out. He whines about how absolutely unfair you’re being. 

“Baby, please, just open the door. I just wanna see you. Just wanna talk. You aren’t really gonna leave me out here like this, are you?” He tries to sound pitiful, absolutely heartbroken that you won’t just give in and unlock the door. It’s almost believable with the way his voice has lost its usual jovial edge. He should’ve known better before he dragged himself over here. It’s past midnight and you could’ve been asleep! Surely, he assumed you were after all his messages went unanswered. You hadn’t even bothered with the cruelty of a read receipt. Nope. All twenty-seven of them sit cluttering your messages. And the two phone calls? Straight to voicemail. If he tried to FaceTime you, you might’ve blocked him completely. Or at least put him on mute. 

He deserves it. Every ounce of this punishment he brought on himself for wanting a mile when you only gave him an inch, yet he can’t seem to accept that sometimes actions have consequences and that he can’t always get what he wants by thinking real hard about it. No amount of begging and pleading will make you get off your couch to let him in. Because the second you do, he won’t ever leave again. He’s strong. Strong enough to manhandle you however he likes because you didn’t have the sense to stay away from a man with military training when he smiled so sweetly at you. You’ve tried moving him before and it’s like pushing a brick wall. If Armin doesn’t want to move, he simply won’t. Which makes his occupation of your porch that much more frustrating. If he’s still there come morning you can only imagine the hell he’ll raise trying to keep you from getting past him if you have to leave the house. Wrapping his thick arms around you and lifting you up so you can’t take a single step away from him. 

“Go away, Armin.” He’s been outside doing his little Romeo schtick for nearing twenty minutes and it’s getting a bit tiring. Unfortunately, your voice crackling through the little speaker only seems to renew his dedication. To your dismay he sits. Just plops himself down in the dirt and dust, smiling at the camera like you’re on a video call. 

“There you are,” he coos. “Knew you wouldn’t leave me hanging. You’re not that mean. You like being nice to your boyfriend. I know you do. Always been so sweet.” His rambles err on the side of delusion but you can tell it’s more so desperation. He knows he’s not your boyfriend. An affectionate situationship, maybe. One that’s clearly rooted deeper than you imagined if he’s so torn up about you cutting contact. The two of you are meant to be on a break. He’d been opposed to it the moment you broached the subject, but he begrudgingly agreed once it was clear his pragmatic rebuttals weren’t going to change your mind. Unfortunately, his resolve lasted all of forty-eight hours before he and his big ol’ puppy dog eyes came rolling up on you. 

“Seriously, Arlert, get off my porch.” 

“Aw, c’mon, baby, don’t call me that. I’m not Arlert to you, you know that. Your man can’t get some love anymore?” He’s been in military schools since he was little. Got brought up hearing everybody call him by his surname. Still has friends that call him that from time to time, but hell if he ever lets you call him anything but his first name. He seems so assured of himself as he watches the tiny camera. 

His confidence is exasperating, and the way he’s talking makes you glad your parents don’t understand how to operate their new security system. If they caught wind of this live feed of Armin scratching at the door like a stray pup they’d probably have your head for treating such a nice boy so cruelly. The angry phone call from your mama would pop up on your phone with a swiftness. It makes you regret agreeing to let him meet your parents–your whole damn family!–to begin with. Such a big milestone is meant for actual partners and Armin certainly isn’t that. At least not in your eyes.

“Do you want me to call the cops?” It’s a last resort but one you’re hoping will scare him off, upstanding as he is. At least for the night. 

His smile widens, looking absolutely deranged in the black and white night vision filter. His light eyes are two dots of glowing white as he stares at the camera as if he’s looking directly at you. 

“You won’t.” He calls your bluff with an insufferably sweet laugh. Of course you won’t. The worst the cops will do is tell him to go home and Armin will smile and nod, saying something about “of course, officer!” But it’ll only make him more eager to see you. How could you call the cops on him? For just wanting to see his pretty girlfriend? Your phone will turn into a brick of lava from how many calls and texts he’ll be blowing you up with the moment he gets home. 

“Armin, please, just go home.” You’re getting exasperated, made worse by the late hour. The show you’d been staying up to watch has rolled to credits and you’d like to be able to go to sleep now, but you won’t sleep soundly knowing Armin might still be camping out on your porch. 

“Uh-uh, I’m not leaving without seeing you.” He’s dropped the humor again, voice going flat and serious, and you know he means it. Your neighbor’s porch light has gone off now that he’s out of range of the sensor but he’ll happily sit in the dark until you give in. You groan and toss your phone on the cushion next to you, trying to remember if you locked the storm door. It’s made of thick glass and heavy metal and Armin wouldn’t risk property damage just to prove a point. That would actually get you to call the cops and they’d have more to say than a light scolding for trespassing. You distinctly remember clicking the lock into place when you got home and decide you will open the door. 

The one leading inside, the one he can’t reach without shattering glass. The TV and living room light are turned off. Each step feels heavier than the last as you approach the front door. The second the deadbolt clicks out of place there’s a frantic shuffling outside the door, assumedly Armin jumping to his feet. The storm door rattles but doesn’t open and you unlock the bottom lock with a bit more confidence. But it withers just as quickly as it blossoms as your eyes find Armin’s. 

His hands are leaving prints on the glass as he presses against it like he’s trying to will the barrier away. His expression is more heartbreaking when it’s not filtered through a screen, all glassy eyes and pouty lips, looking every bit like a kicked puppy as his breath makes little gray clouds on the glass door. 

“Hi, baby.” His tone is disarming. He says it so sweet and gentle, soft like he thought he’d never see you again. With just two little words he’s managed to shatter your resolve and you take a shaky breath to try to regather your composure. It’s nearly impossible when Armin is hugged up against the glass, forehead leaving a mark high up on the door as he smiles down at you. The plan had been to open the door so you could spout off something cruel enough to chase him away face to face, but the words wither and die on your tongue with the way Armin is looking at you like your hands hung the stars in the sky. It makes no sense that he seems so desperately in love when he can hardly wring a romantic word out of you if he doesn’t have you tucked up underneath him, sprawled out on his bed. That’s when you’re nicest to him. Cooing and crying for him because he makes you feel so good, and that’s why you like him in the first place. The rest is secondary, unnecessary, but he wants it so bad. You can see it burning like blue flames in his eyes and it singes at your determination the longer you meet his gaze. 

He laughs when your eyes break from his, something real low like he’s really trying to get you weak in the knees. “Can’t look at me, baby? Where’s my sweet girl? I miss her real bad.” 

He presses his hand on the glass again like he’s waiting for you to mirror his touch. It’s something easier to look at as you rest your hand over his. He dwarfs you in every aspect, from the shape of his hand to the size of his heart and it makes a grisly feeling start to fester inside you. Feels like pressing on a bruise as you mull over how long you’ve been stringing Armin along with no real end in sight. In your mind you weren’t looking for anything real or permanent despite your mother’s insistence that Armin is most definitely The One. Because what other boy would come over just to help her in the garden and do all the heavy lifting for your father’s weekend projects? Mama was so insistent that you had to take them where you could get ’em and it would definitely be your ass if she caught wind of you chasing Armin off. On purpose, no less!

“What are you doing here, Armin?” You ask, pretending like you’re not pressing closer to the glass where you can feel the cool pane warming up everywhere his body is touching. 

“I wanted to see you.” He says it like it’s that simple. He wanted to see you, so he’s here. Just like that. He’s so startlingly earnest, the absolutely worst person to get yourself tangled up with in regards to something undefined. He wants to define it, set everything in stone so there’s no questioning where your loyalties lie because it’s painfully obvious that he’s only got you on his mind. It was your hope that calling it quits on your little not-really-a-relationship would free him up to find a girl that actually deserves his unrivaled loyalty, but it seems like Armin won’t have anyone if it isn’t you. Even if it means groveling to you in the dark just for a slight chance of seeing your face again. He probably would’ve stayed on your porch for as long as it took to get you to look at him and the dedication is enough to make your head spin. 

“Gonna let me in, baby girl?” That usual sweet tone is still gone from his voice, leaving only a stripped back timbre to grate over your already frayed resolve. 

“If I open this door you gotta behave.” His breathing comes quicker as your hand reaches for the lock on the storm door. “I’m serious, Armin. Clearly, we have things to sort out and I’m willing to talk since you came all the way here, but that’s all this is. Just talk.” He nods like he’s just been given orders from a drill sergeant, stepping back so you can open the door for him. 

The night air smells like bonfires and grass clippings, a soft breeze skimming over your exposed skin, but it only lasts for a moment before Armin’s arms are around you and you’re engulfed in the woodsy scent of his cologne. He clings real tight like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets up for even a second. He’s got one hand around your waist and the other on the back of your head as he tucks you up under his chin. It’s equal parts comforting and overwhelming as you melt against him. 

“You know that’s not why I’m here, baby. I didn’t come here to talk, I came to get my girl back. But since you wanna talk; let’s talk. Actually, I’ll talk. All you gotta do is listen.” When you don’t say anything back he just closes the door, locking both, then takes his shoes off. He’s been in your house enough times to know his way around in the dark and he leads you to the stairs with careful precision. Avoiding the end table you always bang your hip on and finding the stairway lightswitch on the first try. He’s ill at ease in your family home. 

“Go ’head,” he says, sending you up the stairs in front of him, like you’ll run the minute he turns his back. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. Armin is bigger than you, faster than you. And while you trust him to never turn his training against you there’s no doubt in your mind that he’d snatch you up if you tried to run from this. So you trudge up the stairs and down the hall to your room, turning on the light and settling on your unmade bed. Ever attentive, Armin catches you squinting beneath the brightness of the overhead light and turns it off in favor of the dimmer bedside lamp. For a minute all he does is pace, wearing tracks on the carpet before he seems to think better of it and crouches in front of you. He holds your face like he’s caught a star in his hands, thumbs brushing over the apples of your cheeks as he presses a searing kiss against your lips. He lingers and you can smell mint and something fruity lingering on his breath as he breathes your air before standing straight again. 

“Clearly, we haven’t been on the same page lately,” he starts. “So let me straighten you out.” 

“Your mama’s right, baby. I’m trying to make you my wife. I don’t need you to be as loud about it as I am but I need to know that you’re my girl. Here and now, tell me what you are. I wanna hear the words or this is over, and I mean that. Lemme hear how much I mean to you or you’ll never hear from me again.” Fuck. Your heart seizes up in your chest like he just punched through your ribs to wrap his hand around it. Pulsing and palpitating until your breath starts coming too quick in your lungs. Shallow and rattled, making you lightheaded as you try to wrap your head around Armin being gone from your life for good. This little break wasn’t meant to be the end of things, just a short reprieve from all his attention. You hadn’t thought of what it would be like for Armin to be gone forever. And there you go dragging him along again, wanting him close enough to keep but far enough that he wasn’t truly yours. Seems like he’s gotten wise to your game and doesn’t wanna play anymore. 

“I wanna have a family someday, baby. Wanna have kids and a wife I can love on when I come home from work. Want a woman who wants me and lets me love her how I need to.” He lifts your chin with a steady hand, forcing you to meet his eyes even as anxious tears start to swim in your vision, making everything warped and shimmery. “I want that woman to be you, baby. She is you. Just lemme hear it. I want you to say it’s me and you.” 

Your voice breaks, getting caught behind the lump in your throat as your skin prickles and your stomach flips. He’s asking for everything. No holds barred. A real relationship where you don’t get to pretend that he isn’t yours and you aren’t his. No more laughing it off when people say the two of you look cute together or giving coy smiles when the topic of you being single comes up in conversation. He’s put you at the edge of a cliff. In front of you is nothing. A yawning abyss that will swallow you the moment you say no, but Armin is still behind you with open arms, waiting for you to step back and accept him. Fully. No more running, no more games. 

When you finally get a sound to come out it’s soft and whispered. “It’s us.” 

Like tossing oil on a fire, Armin’s mood flares, that sunshine smile nearly splitting his cheeks as he falls to his knees. He’s real gentle, touching you softly as he runs his hands up and down your thighs.

“Yeah, baby? You and me?” He beams, sounding every bit as breathless as you are. 

“You and me. Just us. Only us.” You’re rambling, not even fully understanding the weight of what you’re saying. When Armin says something, he means it. And you tossing words around just to please him is gonna get you caught up, but you realize it too late. They’re already out, he heard ’em off your tongue and Armin has never been someone to let people take back what they’ve said. You gotta stand ten toes down on your every word around him. Because what other man would meet a girl’s parents and start talking real sweet about taking good care of her for them if he didn’t mean it? 

And like he can read your thoughts, Armin gets his hands around your waist to push you further up the bed, big blue eyes bearing down on you. “I mean that, baby. You’re mine now. From this moment forward. No more of this taking a break and runnin’ away shit. You’re mine ’til we die, and I’m being so serious.” It’s everything but a ring and it’s too late to take it back. 

He lays you down on your pillows and presses his lips over yours like he’s sealing wax on a letter. It’s hot and sloppy, spit dripping down your chin as you pant into each other’s mouths. He pulls away when you start sucking on his tongue, pressing wet kisses against your racing pulse as he tries to steady himself. His round nose comes to rest in the hollow behind your ear, breath skating across your throat as his hands grip tight to your waist.

“I don’t have the patience tonight, baby.” He’s back to whining as he thumbs at your shirt. “Want you, need you. I’ll treat you nice later, princess. Swear I’ll be real good, but right now I don’t think I can treat you like a gentleman. Just wanna feel you.” Armin has always been chivalrous when it comes to sex. Asking for clear consent every step of the way. Pausing to ask if he can take off your shirt like his tongue wasn’t just down your throat and asking if you’re comfortable to keep going the moment he catches wind of a hint of discomfort. It’s always been endearing if not a bit mind-boggling every time he’s kissing up your spine to ask if you’re okay when he has you bent over moaning his name. 

“Treat me bad, Minnie. I’ve been mean to you. Lemme apologize.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, working you out of your nightshirt. “Yeah, you’ve been real mean. Trying to run away from me like I won’t chase you to the ends of the earth. Tell your man how sorry you are, baby.” He’s mumbling around a mouthful the second he gets your shirt off, mouth kissing over your breasts until he gets one in his mouth. Your breath hitches the second his tongue flicks over a sensitive bud, the heat of his mouth chasing away the chill of your bedroom. He lets out a sound of his own as your hands find his hair, nails dragging over his scalp as your back arches to get him closer. Armin’s arm finds the space left between you and the mattress, clinging close so you can’t run away when the feeling gets to be too much. He leaves a shiny mess across your skin as he mouths his way over to your other breast, kissing and sucking against your skin as his tongue traces tight circles over your nipple. He’s as close as he can get, knee planted between your thighs to give you something to grind on. 

“Feel good, princess?” To the uninitiated, Armin might look small, but his entire body is corded with muscle. His thigh flexes where it’s pressed up against you, dragging a whine from your lips at the sudden firmness. It feels good and you say as much, but it’s not nearly enough to feel him through so many obstacles. Your panties and leggings are soaked through, leaving a dark spot on his sweatpants but you want to be closer. Wanna feel skin on skin as you grind against him. One of your hands leaves his hair to dip beneath the waistband of your pants but it’s snatched away before your fingertips reach your clit. The arm under your back flexes and suddenly you’re upright, perched on Armin’s lap with his thigh still pressed up between your legs. 

“Uh-uh, princess,” he scolds. “You like trying to tell me how much of you I’m allowed to have so tonight you’re only gonna take what I give you. If you want to cum you gotta do it just like this.” His hands settle on your hips, coaxing you to go back to grinding against him and you do because you wanna cum even if it feels impossible with all the layers between you. A shiver trickles down your spine as Armin’s hands caress your bare skin, rubbing up and down your waist while he watches you try to get off on his thigh. It isn’t working and a whine falls from your lips the longer he has you working over his leg. It feels good, has you right up on the edge, but you still can’t cum. And he’s being so mean about it. Smiling in your face as his nose brushes against yours. 

“C’mon, baby, I know you wanna cum.” His hands are on your hips again, guiding your frantic pace to a slow crawl, laughing when you try to strain against his hold because he’s not helping. Everything feels hot and wet, a mess of sweat and slick building up as you pant against Armin’s neck, biting at his skin just to get back at him for keeping you from the orgasm that you so desperately want. It only seems to entice him as his head falls back to give you more space to dig your teeth into.

“That’s right, princess. Mark me up, let everybody know who I belong to. I’m yours right, baby? I’m your man and you’re my girl. Lemme hear it, princess.” His skin is already going red where your teeth were, crescent marks standing out against his pale skin as his hand settles on the back of your head to keep your mouth on his neck. You mumble out a soft litany of words, “mine, mine, all mine” as you suck a bruise into his skin. 

“Fuck, princess, that’s right. Yours. I’m all yours, only yours.” He pulls you up for a kiss, spit spilling into your mouth as he sucks on your tongue. It’s enough to finally push you over the edge but the feeling is pitiful. A few short spasms as you clench around nothing. It leaves you hot and frustrated, worse off than you had been when you were still chasing the high. Armin’s hands soothe over your shaking thighs, cooing over how good you did for him like he helped at all. 

“Lay back for me, baby,” he hums, guiding you to rest against the pillows once more. He helps you out of your leggings and panties as you cringe at the sticky sound the sodden fabric makes as he peels it off your skin. Your thighs are slick and shiny and Armin can’t take his eyes off the mess you’ve made as he tosses your clothes aside. His hands press your knees apart then move higher until the pad of his thumb is rubbing smooth circles over your clit. It’s almost too much after being neglected for so long and your thighs snap closed around his wrist. Armin kisses his teeth and pries your legs back open so he can press two fingers inside you. He mimics the sound when you whine at the feeling of his fingers curling against the spot that has your vision blurring and back arching. 

“Make as much noise as you want, princess. You’re not running from me.” You barely hear him over the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears and your hand grabs at his wrist, trying to get him to slow down as your thighs start to quiver again. It barely sounds intelligible the way you whine his name, choking on a moan when his eyes meet yours. 

“Hands. Off.” He says it like an order, sharp and clear, and your hand jumps away from his wrist in an instant. “Tonight I get to treat you how I want. You just gotta sit there and take it, pretty. Go ’head and cry if you need to, baby, but you’re gonna take everything I give you.” He sounds angry and it makes your pussy clench around his fingers. Your sweet boy is gone and maybe that’s what you get for playing around with his emotions to suit your own needs. 

“M’sorry, Minnie,” you slur as he works you towards another orgasm. His eyes soften as he stares down at you, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. 

“I know you are, baby. I know my girl didn’t really mean it. You were just scared.” Were you? Maybe. Scared of how serious Armin was about you, how desperately sincere he was when it came to you. His lips brush against yours and you find yourself curling towards him, arms wrapped around his neck as the knot in your stomach winds tighter and tighter until the tension snaps. He swallows every sound you make as you ride your high out on his fingers, shivering like you’re about to fall apart at the seams. You sag against the sheets, panting and sticky as Armin sits above you looking unfairly pristine. Aside from his tousled hair and the developing bruises, he looks completely untouched. Still fully clothed as he licks the mess of your arousal off his fingers. 

It makes you feel more vulnerable than you already are. His intensity has seared at all your nerves and it makes you jittery every time his eyes meet yours. Armin seems to revel in your frazzled emotions, leaning in real close so you don’t have the luxury of taking your eyes off his. 

“Look at me, baby. Just me, only me, yeah?” You try to say something back, tongue tangling over a response as Armin brushes his nose against yours and kisses you with his eyes wide open. It nearly melts your insides the way he’s staring at you. The kiss devolves into a wet press of parted lips as Armin holds your chin so you can’t look away from him, bright eyes hollowing out your insides, scraping away any thought that isn’t about him, him, him. When you finally part there’s a string of spit sparkling like spidersilk between your mouths and he breaks it with a greedy swipe of his tongue. 

“Gonna fuck you like I love you,” he murmurs, finally, finally pulling his shirt off. “You know I love you, right, princess?” He asks as he shoves his sweatpants down his hips. I love you. Three little words to make your heartbeat stutter no matter how many times he’s said it. No other man would treat you the way Armin does if he wasn’t in love with you. It’s all too much. He’s too much. But Armin doesn’t seem to care if he’s overwhelming you as he reaches between your bodies to rub the head of his dick through your messy folds, your thighs jolting when he grinds against your clit. 

“Tell me you want me, baby, and I’ll fuck you like you deserve. Like the fucking princess you are.” You’re babbling before he’s even finished, tongue tripping over how fast you’re trying to get the words out. A sloppy mantra of “want it, want you, please!” as Armin presses inside you. He’s real slow about it, making sure you feel every single inch of him as he feeds you his dick. His forehead is pressed against yours, damp bangs sticking to your skin as he bottoms out inside you. He’s got you sweating and shaking, nails digging into his skin hard enough to raise welts but he’s just as fucked out on the first stroke. He presses a kiss between your eyes as his hands squeeze at your hips when you try to move, pining you steady against the sheets. 

“Fuck, hold still, princess.” He’s panting against your mouth, kissing over your parted lips like it’ll distract you from the way he’s twitching inside you. You shift again, not sure if you’re trying to run or get closer but all it takes is a flex of Armin’s hands on your hips to make the decision for you. You’re not going anywhere with the way he’s pressing you into the bed. “Still, baby. Keep moving your hips like that and I’m gonna cum too fast.” He presses another kiss to your pouty lips, mumbling about “be still” as he pets his hands over the plushness of your thighs. You drag your nails over his shoulders and feel his muscles tense and relax as he shivers through the feeling, hissing where he’s sucking bruises into your throat. He’s never been one to leave obvious marks, too much of a gentleman to let you go around looking like you got attacked, but it seems like all bets are off with the mood he’s in. He’s trying to prove something, to stake his claim and make sure you don’t forget it. It’s hard to forget anything about him when he’s bottomed out inside you, so deep you can feel him in your throat. And he won’t move. 

“Minnie,” you whine, nuzzling against him because you know he likes it. He smiles like you expected, pushing back against you until you’re nose to nose again. 

“What’s wrong, baby. Tell me what you need.” His hands on your hips have lessened their restraint, tracing shapes over your bare skin as he smiles down at you. 

“Need you. Need you to move. Please!” Your voice pitches upwards, cracking off into a whine as he finally moves. He pulls out real slow before fucking into you with enough intensity to drive you further up the bed. Armin has always been pretty. Blonde hair and big blue eyes. But he even sounds pretty when he’s inside you, whining and moaning like he’s not the one fucking you into the mattress. He balances himself on his forearms, caging your head in so you can’t look anywhere but up at him because he knows you wanna look away. You can’t stand staring at him for too long and seeing all the adoration welling up in his eyes. It’s too much. His hips grinding against your clit while he’s staring down at you, panting about how much he loves you. Your eyes pinch shut as you try to turn your face away from him. 

“Uh-uh.” His hand is quick to find your jaw, holding your face steady even as you refuse to open your eyes. There’s light leaking through your eyelids, brightness going in and out as Armin’s shadow moves above you. It all goes dark for a second as you feel his lips press against both of your eyelids, then your nose before settling over your lips. His tongue drags a messy streak over your mouth before he kisses you again, nipping at your bottom lip. The sharp edge of his teeth is enough to have your eyes popping open and he’s there to see you, giving you another open-eyed kiss as the hand on your jaw slips lower. Down the column of your throat, teasing over your nipple, over the dip of your navel, before his fingers find your clit. The feeling has your eyes rolling back but the second you lose sight of him everything stops. His fingers, his hips. Everything. 

“Eyes on me, princess. Don’t take your eyes off me.” He’s so pretty but even still it all feels too intimate and tears begin to burn in your eyes. Armin kisses each of them away in turn when the tears start to spill down your cheeks. 

“You okay, baby? Need me to stop?” You whimper, more tears coming faster now as you shake your head and cling closer to him. Legs around his waist and arms around his neck as he splits you open with each rock of his hips. Armin smiles and kisses the tip of your nose, murmuring “there’s my sweet girl” as you pull him closer. Each breath feels too short and sticks in your throat as Armin works you to the edge. He’s starting to lose his rhythm, hips stuttering and arm shaking next to your head. 

“Fuck, I’m close, princess. Want you to come with me. Need it.” You’re already there, close to pushing at his stomach to get away from the feeling of his cock bullying that sweet spot inside you as his fingers refuse to let up on your clit. It’s driving you to the edge real fast, melting your insides and scrambling your mind. When you try to speak, nothing intelligible comes out. Just a dumb wash of babbling whimpers as your hands tangle in Armin’s hair to pull him into a spit-soaked kiss. It’s hard to keep your eyes open when you come. Armin has you knotted up tight, every muscle clenched as he works you to the edge and you can feel your eyelids trying to flutter as the tension finally breaks with a blinding flash of ecstasy. It sings through your body, has you wound up so tight Armin is whimpering about your pussy choking his dick. 

“S’too tight, baby. Gotta relax for me. Gotta let me go, princess.” Somewhere in your addled mind you find the audacity to be upset about him telling you to let him go. Wasn’t he just telling you it would never be that easy to get rid of him? You wrap yourself tighter around him with a petulant “no!” 

“Not letting you go. You’re mine!” Armin’s nodding along, whimpering and squeezing at your waist. 

“That’s right, princess. I’m yours. And you’re mine, right?” He’s given up on really trying to move and starts grinding against you, stirring up your insides like you didn’t just come hard enough for your vision to go white for a second. Now you wanna let him go as he digs his cock into your gummy walls, making a bigger mess between your legs. It already sounds sloppy enough, each shift of his hips punctuated by the slick sound of your pussy leaking a frothy mess onto your sheets. You must’ve agreed with whatever Armin said ’cause he’s smiling–positively beaming–down at you as he sits up and pulls you up into his lap. When your hand starts to shove at the hard planes of his stomach he just laughs and slides right back in until he’s pressed as deep as he can get. 

“You’re so warm, baby, I don’t wanna leave. Don’t wanna cum yet.” He whines as he works his hips real slow. 

“S’too much!” It feels like you’ve been struck by lightning, the jolts of static singing through your body as Armin keeps you on his dick after he’s already pulled three orgasms out of you. 

“You can do it, baby.” He sounds just as fucked out as you do, skin sparkling with sweat as he works himself up to the edge. 

“C’mon, Minnie. Please. Love you. Need you to cum for me.” You hadn’t expected your desperate coaxing to have such an immediate effect but Armin tenses up immediately, cumming with a hoarse shout of your name the second you start whining about loving him. He fills you up and then some, leaking down your thighs as he works himself through it. He’s crying and shivering as he pulls you up until you’re chest to chest. 

“Again. Say it again.” He’s got your face in his hands again, keeping your eyes on him. You’re both crying now, tears spilling over his fingers as he kisses you like he’ll die the moment his mouth parts from yours. 

You say it again, “Love you.”

“Again.” 

“Love you, Minnie.”

“Who, baby?” He presses. “Who loves me?”

“I do,” you whisper. “I love you, Armin.” 

“I love you, too, baby. Fuck, I love you so much. My girl. I’m gonna fucking marry you, baby, I swear I will. Gonna take such good care of you.” Each admission is another nail in the coffin. This isn’t how the night was meant to go. You were on a break. Separated. Armin shouldn’t even be here and yet here he is carrying you down the hall to the bathroom and sitting you on his lap while he fills the tub with water. You’re too tired and boneless to protest when he sits in the bath with you, pulling your back into his chest so he can kiss over the marks he left on your neck and whisper about how happy you’ve made him. 

“I’ve been waiting so long, baby. Been waiting for you to say it back. You know I’m not letting you go after this, right? I’m gonna get you a ring, so everybody knows you’re mine. Something real pretty for my princess.” He promises, lifting your left hand to his mouth so he can press a lingering kiss to your ring finger. 

“Just wait, baby. I’m gonna talk to your dad when your parents get back. Ask his permission so I can do this right. I swear I’m gonna make you my girl forever.” 

#armin ★ #armin smut #armin x reader smut #armin x reader #★ mine!

[aclowntiny]

Hiii, can you do svt meeting your parents for the first time?

Hiiiiiiiii!!!! My first request, I'm so excited 😁 I so can friend!!!

(To keep it inclusive, I am putting a bit for *if* there is any language barrier with your parents, but if there wouldn't be, then feel free to ignore that hehe 😌 enjoy queens, kings, all my little monarch butterflies 🥰🦋)

Seventeen Meeting Your Parents For the First Time (Gender Neutral Reader)

Warnings: some slight language is all!

S.Coups

♡ He's simultaneously nervous & excited, AKA get ready to see Seungcheol practically bursting at the seams before you walk into your house. You, for your part, remind him that he's a great guy anyone's parents would love & to think of all the fun you two already had in your hometown that day.

♡ He immediately introduces himself so politely, saying it's an honor to meet your parents and you smile, any vestigial worries you had fading away.

♡ If your he and parents don't speak the same language fluently, he may rely on you a little bit to help bridge the gaps, but he really wants to do his best, so he tries to say anything he can himself and make eye contact with your parents. Will absolutely try his darndest to compliment their house, what they feed him, everything!

♡ Seungcheol is so caring and used to managing lots of people, so he immediately jumps in with offers to help or even serve your parents. They thank him, but insist he sit down because he's a guest. Neither you nor your boyfriend miss the glance they shoot you, one that says seems like a keeper to me.

♡ My gosh, we all know he's a family man too, so when they ask him about what he wants in life, if he wants to get married or *hint hint* would you guys give them grandchildren, and he says yes, he'd love that, hopefully three sons and a daughter if he can get (y/n) on board, well shoot, they'll practically help him pick out rings then and there!

♡ He sighs in relief as you guys leave, a big smile on his face. "That went well!" You exclaim, taking his hands in excitement. "I told you!" "You're right, I knew to trust you~" "I think my parents will want to see a lot more of you," you joke. "I don't have a problem with that," Seungcheol responds. What a man!

Jeonghan

♡ Oh you already know this man is going to WIN YOUR PARENTS OVER. He's pretty ready TBH. Honestly, while his heart is beating faster, it makes him so happy to be meeting your parents, that almost overrides the nerves (almost). You're so sure they'll love him, it fills his heart, too.

♡ He comes with a gift for your parents, this generous guy! He brings flowers for your mom and a drink you tell him your dad will like, which they happily accept.

♡ If there's a language barrier, he does his best to convey how thankful he is to them to be visiting the home of your family and how well they raised you. If you have to say it for him, he greatly appreciates how flustered you look repeating his words, barely resisting the urge to pinch your cheeks in front of your mom and dad.

♡ He helps you set the table, meeting your eyes as you lay everything out with a deep gaze because this all feels so domestic and as a loving homebody, it's perfect. Where you guys are almost fades away in his mind until he hears your mother thank him, shooting back up and away from you to look at her once more.

♡ Goodness me this man is an intent listener. He truly enjoys hearing the stories your parents tell and has very clear answers to their questions. He knows what he likes to do and is mature enough to answer with confidence that he wants a committed relationship, a future with their child if you want that, too- which you of course agree you do. He also delights your parents by answering the grandkid question, getting a bit flustered but happily telling them if you were down, he loves the idea of becoming a father of two personally.

♡ They can see as you sit together how much love Jeonghan looks at you with. It just totally fills up his eyes and the way he turns to you. So much so that when you go over to where the dishes are being washed, your father having been chatting with the two of you, she tells you she's never seen someone so loving with you. When you tell your boyfriend how he touched your mom's heart, he almost tears up, but instead settles for just about yanking you into the house and cuddling the heck out of you. He also thanks you for the experience, it was very sweet even if there were awkward moments at first.

Joshua

♡ "Meeting the parents is always the hardest part!" Joshua exclaims, though his tone sounds half-joking, not despairing. You chuckle at him, leaning a bit closer. "Be for real, Joshua, have you ever had problems with people's parents?" "No," he admits, "they usually seem to like me." "Then don't be worried," you tease him.

♡ Joshua knows a little bit of a handful of languages, so while the chances of a big barrier are sort of small, if it's there he'll probably ask you how to say all the most basic and polite things so he can properly let your parents know he's grateful to them for opening their home to him.

♡ And that's exactly what he does, says thank you before introducing himself, and right away you see your dad is pleased you're in the hands of a polite young man. He says their house is pretty, too, which your mom never forgets ever.

♡ When it's time to eat, Joshua pulls out your chair for you, leading you to flash a victorious grin to your mother, who looks down and chuckles, giving an amused little head shake. You're so proud of this one.

♡ Eloquent and calm of a speaker as he is, Joshua doesn't seem nervous as he gives explanations to what his parents want to know and describes how he enjoys playing the guitar, some of his favorite experiences he's had with you, like the time he took you skating, and even his favorite parts of living in LA and how it compares to Seoul. The whole time, though, one of his hands has reached for yours under the table and is gently holding it like you're his little anchor.

♡ "Why couldn't you have done this the first time?" Your parents joke to you, a message you surreptitiously relay to Joshua. "Your streak remains intact," you tell him. "So I'm a keeper?" He asks, eyes shining at you like you were a trophy he'd won. "I knew that without them," you shoot back, leaning in to give him a peck on the lips, "but now my parents know it too."

Jun

♡ Jun's nervous, but also finds meeting the parents super endearing, so he has some extra energy buzzing as you get ready. He can't wait to see if you look like your parents up close and personal and if their mannerisms are like yours. People have senses of how they are similar to their parents, yet they can never see it all. The way you guys move, the faces you make, all of those are things Jun can't wait to see.

♡ If he has any trouble communicating with your parents, he'll probably get inquisitive, like asking them what they call things or checking with you to make sure what he says is right. May accidentally slip up and call something by its Chinese name in a moment of confusion, but everyone has a good laugh, even Junhui itself.

♡ He tells your parents he can see where you got your good looks from :)))

♡ They ask him questions about his hobbies and work and stuff, so he ends up showing your parents some really impressive dance moves, getting shy when he sees the surprise on their faces, but it gives him some energy. Soon, he's doing impressions of other Seventeen members, giving a colorful picture of his bandmates that makes them laugh.

♡ Something they enjoy about Jun even more is the stories he tells about his little brother. They can tell he's caring and could be a family man: someone they could see themselves trusting with their child. He loves his mother, too, which is clear in the adoring way he talks about her. Definitely a few son-in-law points for Jun lol

♡ You can't help but tease him after you get back in the car. "Oh, you've done it now." Jun's face falls. "Did I make a mistake? Was someone upset?" "No, you love your mom so much my mom's really going to want you as her son now!" "O-oh." Jun blushes, but he can't stop smiling and showing you affection all night, whether it's holding your hand in the car or giving you a hug as you walk.

Hoshi

♡ Mr. Kwon Soonyoung wants THE FULL CRASH COURSE. He'll want to know things your parents like, any pet peeves they have so he can avoid doing them, this man will be studying like it's final exam week! You laugh after a while at all the effort he's putting in considering how to bring up your dad's favorite sport or the movies you guys love to watch. "Don't worry, you're a total people person, Soonyoung. And don't try to pull the introvert card on me, that's different!"

♡ A language barrier would put a slight damper on everything just because all his little tips and pointers he gave himself would be that much harder to bring up, but his desire to connect with people and energy shine through and through no matter what! He probably finds an excuse to give your parents a dance show hehe

♡ He takes such good care of you, all but hovering over you which your parents think is cute. The whole meal you guys share, he's making sure you're getting enough and asking what your favorite is both to make sure you get it and to try a bit himself :)

♡ When talking, Soonyoung stutters a fair bit, but manages to slip in a few of the mentions he wanted, making a reference that lights your parents' faces up with joy and yours with pride. Points scored, tiger!

♡ After dinner you guys start playing a game at your boyfriend's suggestion; he wants to get some of his energy out, his leg having been bouncing all dinner. Plus, if your parents ask him a ton of questions he might pass out. Games are more fun! He suggests your favorite game because he knows how much you like it, giving you a knowing look that your parents catch and smile at.

♡ The game seemed to be a good call of an icebreaker, you and Soonyoung strolling out of your parents' in high spirits. You're holding onto the tall frame of your boyfriend, who's waving brightly and enthusiastically with that adorable grin you loved so much. "Looks like you had a good time." "Yeah, but did they?" "My mom texted me and called you cute, so I think you won some points." Soonyoung leaps in the air, then grabs you and kisses you joyously, giving a whoop. "Your studies paid off," you giggle.

Wonwoo

♡ Wonwoo is naturally a more reserved person, so he worries that it's hard to grab the spotlight in social situations, but you reassure him. "Are you kidding? Think of all the boisterous people parents meet when their kids are young. I'm sure my parents will be refreshed by you- you're smart, reasonable, kind..." "Yeah, that's true, I am huh?" You just laugh, head falling onto his shoulder.

♡ Just as you said, you have an intelligent boyfriend, so even if he isn't able to fluently speak to your parents, he did some research and can pick up things to say to them pretty quickly, especially if you do any on-the-go translations.

♡ Your parents ask him some questions, naturally, like what Wonwoo enjoys doing. Their eyebrows raise at first when he says he likes to play games, but when he starts talking about reading, they look pleased.

♡ Like duh they are, this guy actually takes care of himself and manage living on his own like an adult and has an international driver's license and can handle interacting with them almost like a peer??? King.

♡ He makes an offhand comment during dinner to reassure you about something and that's when he really sees your parents light up because this man knows and understands you deeply- it's a subtle thing about you that others haven't picked up on or worked with and there he was getting it like it was nothing.

♡ "I think they're happy with you," you commented when the evening was over. "You think so?" "Yeah, they cut the questions and got into deeper stuff pretty fast. I could tell they respected you. My guess is they call me tonight or tomorrow and tell me they're glad I chose you." "Well, I have to say I agree with them there, too," Wonwoo tells you with a smile and a quick hug.

Woozi

♡ "What if they don't like me?" Jihoon asks, shooting you a nervous glance. You just laugh. "Jihoon, everyone likes you. Have you seen any of your members lately?" "Yeah, I guess they do, but I'm not dating any of their kids. They don't even have-" Resting a hand on your shoulder, you give him one more firm reassurance. "Trust me, don't try or anything. Just be yourself and get to know them."

♡ If Jihoon and your parents speak different languages, he may rely on you a little bit, but the last way he wants to come across is too dependent on you, so he may push himself further out of his comfort zone than he usually would.

♡ He's extremely polite, almost to the point of being formal, so you take the reins of the conversation at first to loosen him up, telling him things about your parents that he can bond with them over or even straight-up hyping him up to them.

♡ Of course, you inevitably bring up music, enjoying the smile that breaks across Jihoon's face, shyly at first at the praise and spotlight, but soon he relaxes, passion flooding into him as he forgets himself just a little. Your parents have their own styles of music and favorite artists, so of course they want to know if your boyfriend ever listens to them. They're impressed to learn how many songs he really writes, that his group has a producer within it, not just singing whatever they're given. Your heart swells with pride as Jihoon gets more in his element.

♡ Your dad and him get chatting, just sort of going down a rabbit hole, but it makes you laugh because they sort of have similar temperaments??? They just sort of shoot the breeze after a while, you guys chilling after you ate with anything you wanted to drink, sitting on the couches.

♡ Jihoon still wasn't sure as you guys left what your parents were thinking. "You did fine," you told him, "they were relaxed, which is a good thing. They felt at ease." "You could tell?" "Oh, yeah, they weren't being fake at all. They stopped feeling weird when you did!" "Well, that was thanks to you." "And you! Believe in yourself, darn it!" Jihoon just laughed, shaking his head. "That's why I love you."

DK

♡ "I want them to love me! (y/n), how do I get them to love me?" Shaking your head, you smile. "Just be yourself, Seokmin, that's all you had to do to get me to love you."

♡ All Seokmin's nerves manifest in the form of giddiness and awkward humor, so you try to still him as he cracks semi-self-deprecating jokes in the car by holding his hand and telling him to trust you, that you wouldn't have taken him home if you thought it would go badly: heck, most people wouldn't even stay with their partner if they thought it would go so bad at home!

♡ With the possibility of your parents speaking a different language, he'll definitely be extra nervous, but try to say as much as possible. He tries to work in as many jokes as he can and be extra expressive in other ways to get his point across, which is pretty much how he is naturally anyway. No matter if your parents and him speak the same language or not, they'll be laughing a lot together!

♡ One thing you can tell your parents appreciate about Seokmin besides his natural joy and humor is that he's attentive to you; he serves you once your meal is ready, gets you your drink, and makes sure you're situated before lifting a finger for himself. Your parents are visibly pleased by the way he values you.

♡ A member of the 'hey, let's play a game :)' squad because what better way to lighten the mood and take pressure off of everyone talking and performing, right? Will absolutely let your parents pick what game, though, even if he's never played it. "What's parcheesi? ...I mean, yes, that sounds great!"

♡ He pretends to faint when you leave, and as you laugh and play along, "picking him back up", you ask him how he honestly felt. "I had a good time. Do you think they did, too?" "Well, they laughed a lot. I think your story about Hosh at the pizza place really got them hooked. I told you, remember? I was confident your lovable ways wouldn't fail." At that, your boyfriend blushes. "If it wasn't for you, I totally would have spilled your drink everywhere and probably wouldn't have shaken your dad's hand." "Yeah, but they didn't see either of those things, so you're good."

Mingyu

♡ Get ready for charming guy! Mingyu isn't worried about meeting your parents. Well, there's a small, little teensy tiny part of him that worries he'll do something embarrassing, but he's confident in himself.

♡ If you didn't know your boyfriend so well, you'd be surprised at how boldly he just goes up to your parents and greets them, like wow, so... professional???

♡ Mingyu views a potential language barrier as a personal challenge, something he wants to put work in to overcome. That's probably one of the first things he'll say, in fact: that he wants to work on being able to speak well to your parents for everyone's sake.

♡ From that fear of embarrassment, the closest thing he does to anything like that is just a funny misspeak, and though he blushes everyone laughs so it's really not even all that!

♡ The thing he impresses your parents with besides being outgoing and respectful in his greetings is that Mingyu can cook! As you guys eat dinner, it's something he can bond with your parents over and gain an extra few points of mother's approval with because who doesn't want their kid to score a man who knows his way around a kitchen? Plus your mom mouths to you when he's not looking that he's handsome, lol.

♡ Mingyu gets a huge grin on his face the moment you leave. All you can do is smile and roll your eyes. "They liked me, didn't they?" "Well, if you could tell, of course I could! We both knew they would. You're the most outgoing and mature person I've ever brought home!" "And I cook, too~ What a keeper I am~" You smack his shoulder, but also kiss his cheek because what can you say, he's right? You wouldn't have brought Mingyu home otherwise.

The8

♡ Minghao doesn't usually care what people think, like he is who he is and he's secure in that, but hey, no one wants their partner's parents to hate them you know? 🤷🏻‍♀️ he doesn't make some grand plan or worry about establishing a pretense, but just hopes they can see how much he loves their child, too.

♡ If there's a language barrier between them, Minghao puts his all into listening and being intentional with how he interacts with your parents, but he also appreciates that you don't leave him alone with them forever if that's the case, keeping the line of communication open.

♡ He gets kind of shy and smiley because you start hyping him up, reminding your parents what an amazing artist and all around talented man he is, asking if he would show them pictures of things he's made.

♡ Hope your parents have pets, because this man will absolutely melt everyone's hearts with how sweetly he interacts with them, holding them so gently if they let him and giggling at anything adorable they do!

♡ Your boyfriend also has the sweetest view of the future, like the way he talks about his own parents and how their love story really inspires how he wants to live, and of course your own parents love that. He is able to come across as the kind, mature person he is, and no parents can be mad about that!

♡ He also manages to make them laugh with a few choice impressions of the other Seventeen members, and when you leave you congratulate him on how well he did, that you could see how your parents relaxed and enjoyed spending time with him. "I think they're really sure now I'm in good hands. But warning: they'll probably try inviting you around whenever they can!" "That's alright with me. I want to get close to the people who raised you into who you are." How did you get so lucky???

Seungkwan

♡ Seungkwan looks like he wants to throw up on the way to your parents' home. Volunteering to drive was clearly a good call. "Sweetheart, you're amazing with people, what are you so worried about?" You chuckle, grabbing one of the hands he has folded in his lap. "Well, I've heard stories about your mom, and-" "My mom didn't like my last boyfriend because he was a dick, ok? He barely would talk to her. You're going to be leagues better." "That's true, I still can't believe how he treated you," Seungkwan comments, gripping your hand now that he's successfully distracted, "If I ever saw him, I'd-" "Yeah, yeah, save that, my mom'll love that, she still hates him."

♡ If there's any language barriers with your parents, Seungkwan is an amazing boyfriend to have. Even though he's nervous, he immediately smiles and does his best to communicate with them. He'll try using any amount of your parents' language he knows and isn't afraid to repeat things they say to him to learn. He even makes jokes about his own mistakes or just starts talking in gibberish when he's confused, so that breaks tension and lightens the mood too!

♡ His usually affectionate ways stiffen and fade, though, at least at first, because he doesn't know how his parents will react if he touches you, even though he prefers innocent affection like holding your hands in his, putting his arm around you, or giving you a hug from behind. He just doesn't want them to beat his ass lol

♡ Just as you called, Seungkwan is such a naturally outgoing and funny person, he has your parents laughing with the way he tells stories and listens to them intently too, smiling and interjecting little things like "oh really?" and "wow!" so they know he's really giving listening his all.

♡ The moment you guys finish dinner, he starts cleaning up without any discussion, and though they make him sit back down, you and Seungkwan can both tell how much your parents appreciate it. He tries to still make things easier like collecting and stacking dishes he can reach from the table, which makes your mom especially smile.

♡ The one time you bring up your ex in talking about somewhere you went with him, Seungkwan manages to throw in a small shade, his expression contorting hilariously as he does it, which your mom does in fact love. They have a mini shade session and that's how you know Seungkwan is in. You make sure to tell him that when you guys leave. "See? I told you, you're amazing, my parents are open-minded anyway, there was no way it would go badly! They'll probably want to talk to you now whenever we call." "That's alright with me, your parents are fun to be around. I see where you get it from," he comments, wrapping his arm around your shoulders now that your parents can't see.

Vernon

♡ He's wide-eyed the whole drive, lowkey looking like he's on another astral plane. "You ok?" "Yeah, I just...can't believe this is happening. It's kinda crazy, I've heard stories about your parents, but now I'm going to really see them." "They'll like you," you tell him, a joking smile crossing your face as you elbow him, "they'll be happy I'm finally with someone chill."

♡ If your parents have pets, Vernon totally becomes immediate besties with them, which endears your parents to your boyfriend that much more. He's quiet and gentle with them, and showing a respect for life is a good sign in their eyes.

♡ He'll know already if there's any potential of a language barrier. It intimidates him, especially since he's already a pretty quiet person, so he may do a lot of talking through you, but everything he says is sincere. Probably tries to make a joke to make up for it.

♡ Vernon is one of the more inquisitive ones, asking your parents questions, too. Not interrogating them like they'll want to do to him lol, but he wants to know what they enjoy, how long they've lived where they lived, just little things like that to help him understand them. I mean hey, they're strangers too, you know?

♡ You're different around your parents. More relaxed. You lived with these people for how many years, after all? Vernon smiles, feeling like he's truly seeing you in your element now that you're home. You crack some super goofy running joke you have with your family that has him in stitches, and it finally helps him shake off some stiffness and formality. They may be your parents, but they're also people, you know?

♡ He gathers info about your parent's humor and interest, probably finding a meme or something he read that breaks the ice a little more so he can relate to them. They love it if he already knows anything about their interests. When you and Vernon finally take off, he tells your parents how nice it was to meet them and thanks them for having him. You tell him as you guys pull away that he did good. "You were so easy, they'll love you for that. No shmoozing or anything. I can tell they had fun." "Well," Vernon smiles, "I did too."

Dino

♡ This man right here??? Is absolutely DETERMINED to make your parents love him, whatever that takes. You'll probably have to remind him that trying too hard and showing off will have the opposite effect. "Trust me, my first boyfriend was like that. It didn't work," you told him with a laugh.

♡ Chan wants to overcome any potential language barriers, so he'll probably keep things concise but as charming as possible, like interjecting small jokes and compliments when he can just to make your parents smile and show he's making an effort.

♡ When they start asking him about goals and passions, that's when he really lights up. In his mind, that's his time to shine. He tells them that he's still learning, but working to improve himself and grow every day, explaining that performing is his life, but he never wants that to come at the expense of neglecting their kid either! He wants to take care of you! If you have to translate this, my gosh he'll have you getting shy and blushing, trying to keep down his own satisfied smile at this because he doesn't want to seem cocky.

♡ He'll probably be another one to suggest playing a game with your parents to help break the ice, making everyone comfortable and releasing some of the interrogation pressure.

♡ This particular game you happen to beat his ass badly at, which honestly just gives your parents that much more to be proud of you for and laugh at so Chan can't even be mad, he just joins in! Your joy is infectious, negating his competitive side...for now. The next game, it's so on. He probably teams up with your mom to take down you and your dad, which they have a lot of fun with.

♡ "That was fun, right?" "Yes," Chan sighs, arms falling around you, "but I'm kind of glad it was over." "Uh oh." "What?" "I hope you won't be disappointed if they want to do this again. They're going to want to be close to you, you know." Chan puts his hand under his chin, pretending to think. "Well, if it lets your mom and I get revenge for that cheap move you pulled, then I'll do it!" "There's the Lee Chan I know," you grin.

#seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #s.coups #jeonghan #joshua #jun #hoshi #wonwoo #woozi #dk #mingyu #the8 #seungkwan #vernon #dino #gender neutral reader #fluff #requested

[c-l0wnery]

Two popular headcanons about Sophia's character suggest she was either a love interest or a big sister/mother figure to P. While both interpretations hold value, I personally believe she served more as a big sister/mother figure to P, and here's why:

Sophia and Geppetto:

One notable difference is their approach to P's transformation into a human. Sophia encourages P's choices, even if they involve lying, recognizing his progress, while Geppetto often demands obedience and no lies from P (I am certain he is well aware that lying is what makes him human), even so that he becomes distressed over the occurrence that P's hair is growing and not knowing how to deal with his metamorphosis of becoming human. Sophia's supportive nature contrasts with Geppetto's rigidity, indicating a maternal influence.

Granting Life:

Both Sophia and Geppetto played roles in giving "life" to P, akin to parental figures bringing a child into the world.

Carlo:

Sophia's long-standing connection with Carlo reveals her nurturing demeanour, which was made clear at black seaside, akin to a big sister comforting him in times of distress. (Yes, I am aware that P and Carlo are in fact not the same person, but I do believe that Carlo has influence on P his actions because Carlo his ergo is infused with his heart, we have seen this with multiple puppets such as, the puppet maid Camille, Romeo The King of puppets and even Sophia when P decides to fuse her ergo with the doll, it did not create an entirely different being, Sophia stayed Sophia because that is what ergo makes possible.) This dynamic parallels her relationship with P, suggesting a maternal influence.

Statue:

The imagery of Sophia cradling P mirrors the Madonna della Pietà (the Blessed Virgin Mother Mary cradling the mortal body of her son Jesus Christ after his Descent from the Cross.), symbolizing her maternal role in P's life, particularly evident in the True ending.

Original Story:

Sophia's multifaceted portrayal in the original Pinocchio story aligns with her nurturing and maternal characteristics, further supporting the big sister/mother figure interpretation.

Appearance:

Sophia's mature demeanour contrasts with P's youthful innocence, emphasizing her role as a guiding figure rather than a romantic interest.

Record Shadow Flower:

While Sophia's record hints at a love story, it is not to be forgotten that Alidoro, brother of Eugénie, gifted his sister a record with a song depicting a love story about a wolf who went an a journey to propose to a girl.

In essence, Sophia embodies the parental guidance that Gepetto fails to provide, making her a more fitting parental figure for P. While the romantic interpretation is valid, viewing Sophia in a nurturing role offers a refreshing perspective, highlighting her depth beyond mere romantic tropes.

#lies of p #pinocchio #sophia monad #lies of p alidoro #lies of p eugenie #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p geppetto

[deconstructthesoup]

I've seen some good ones floating around, so here's my take on a Fantasy High Swap Class AU:

Adaine: She's a College of Creation bard, something that stemmed from needing something to keep herself sane growing up in the Abernant home. She channeled her studies of the cosmos and magic into songs, and she actually managed to pass herself off as a Conjuration wizard... until she got found out and sent to Aguefort. Luckily, it's the perfect place for her to hone her craft, and she winds up becoming an incredibly well-known songwriter---more on the indie folk side of things than punk rock, but still. (And she does also become the Elven Oracle, if only by accident.)

Kristen: She starts out as a Zealot barbarian under the Church of Helio, but it doesn't take long for her faith to waver, and she eventually falls into the unpredictability and beautiful chaos of the Path of Wild Magic---and eventually multiclasses into an Oath of the Ancients paladin, inspired by claiming Cassandra as a deity. She's got a lot of righteous fury and craziness at her disposal, and she's never gonna back down from a fight.

Fig: While still keeping her rebellious attitude, she decided to still accept the girly side of herself when her horns grew in and be more pastel-punk (kinda like K Tanaka), and she embraced her devil side by becoming a Trickster Domain cleric---specifically, a cleric of Asmodeus. She's still a lover of disguises, a shameless flirt, and has a shaky relationship with the truth, but it's cranked up to eleven due to her serving a deity of all that. She does eventually multiclass into being an Alchemist artificer, which is... just as chaotic as you might expect.

Riz: He's still a detective at heart, of course, but he winds up using his smarts and sneakery to become a School of Illusion wizard. This actually makes him perfectly suited to being the guy who's always trying to figure out the truth, even if his disguise habit is almost as bad as Fig's sometimes, and he takes on his secret-agent style way earlier than in canon. He's not strictly lawful---he's a big fan of finding out loopholes---but he's definitely the team's designated "smart guy."

Gorgug: His subclass was the hardest to figure out, but I decided he would be good as a Cavalier fighter---his martial prowess is still focused on helping and supporting his friends, regardless of whether it's through rage or skill. Eventually, though, he gets inspired by Adaine's creative ways of using magic and multiclasses into a College of Valor bard. And yes, he uses these skills in part to become a band member of hers. Fig is also part of the band.

Fabian: And last but not least, our Fabian got inspired by both Cathilda and a much more sober Hallariel to become a Swashbuckler rogue. His story is kind of an inverse of canon, with him learning from his mother and mother figure more than his father---partly due to the fact that Bill died before canon in this---and gaining a lot more pride from that (and yeah, that includes him introducing himself as "Fabian Seacaster, son of Hallariel Seacaster, the greatest swordfighter who's ever lived!"). But after his Bad Day, he realizes that there's worth in appreciating what his father has to offer, and he becomes a Fiend warlock of Old Bill---Pact of the Chain, of course, so the Hangman can be his familiar.

So, uh... yeah!

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #adaine abernant #adaine o'shaughnessey #kristen applebees #fig faeth #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #fabian seacaster #fantasy high swap au

[drakaripykiros130ac]

TG stans: “It’s so unfair how Daemon is given a free pass by fans, while Alicent is constantly criticized. They are both gray characters. Fans only forgive Daemon because he is played by a hot actor.”

No. No. No. And no.

You can try to spin it however you want but Alicent will never be considered a gray character. Not even the shitty show version of her.

Book Alicent - there is nothing to debate here. She is a greedy, manipulative upstart b*tch who got hers in the end. Evil stepmother and her evil sons perished. Happy ending. Bye bye.

Show Alicent - oh boy. Here we go.

Being a gray character often implies doing some pretty terrible or at least immoral things for the greater good. And a lot of other characters around them have a hard time understanding that what this gray character did was for the best. This character’s actions are often misunderstood and perceived to be done with selfish intent (and most of the time, greater good and selfishness overlap).

In what way does Alicent fit this description? In the show, she was driven by jealousy and resentment and done some pretty unnecessary and cruel things simply because she could:

1. Demanding that Rhaenyra’s newborn be brought to her immediately after birth. A disgusting display of cruelty. As a mother herself of four children, she surely understands the difficulty of labor, the vulnerability of a newborn baby as well as the immediate motherly instinct to protect her young (which is why Rhaenyra took the child herself, refusing to part with him).

2. Turning her children against Rhaenyra. As the Queen, and stepmother of the heir to the throne, it was her responsibility to attempt to forge relationships between her children and her stepdaughter, because this stepdaughter would one day be the reigning Queen and the fate of Alicent’s children would rest with her. But no, she was bitter, jealous and shortsighted and somehow thought that turning her children against Rhaenyra would somehow…what…do her family good?

3. Cheating on her husband by offering sexual services to a deranged clubfooted freak, in exchange for information. Call it whatever you like, but sexual favors in exchange for something is called “whoring”. I am not even going to debate this. No one forced her. This was her choice.

4. Taking a known murderer as her sworn shield for the single reason that he turned against Rhaenyra and that reason would benefit her.

5. Badmouthing children to their grandfather. The vendetta Alicent pursued against Jaecaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey is reprehensible. It was unnecessary, cruel and it certainly hadn’t done any good to anyone.

6. Showing up at Rhaenyra’s wedding in a dramatic manner and wearing the Hightower color for “war” simply because her ex-friend lied to her. Ironic, considering that she herself didn’t tell her friend that she was sneaking into her father’s chambers late at night, seducing him and getting him to marry her (I don’t give a damn that Otto made her).

7. Replacing the Targaryen heraldry with symbols of the Seven. Naturally, she couldn’t put up the Hightower symbols without “Hey look at me! I am committing treason!” written all over her face. Subtle, but it got the point across. And no, she wasn’t trying to “find comfort” or “honor her mother” or whatever bullshit TG stans like to invent. It was a strategic move through which she showed very clearly that she was turning her back on the House who made her everything she is.

These are just a few examples. If you take into account Alicent’s actions, none of them were done for the greater good. They served only her, and her own ambitions.

She married into the most powerful family in Westeros. She was a lady in waiting, a daughter of a second son from a low-ranked House with few prospects who was helping the Crown Princess dress.

When she married into House Targaryen, she was expected to remain loyal to House Targaryen. It was a privilege. One she completely disregarded in order to further the ambitions of House Hightower. It was Otto’s plan at first, but she pretty much took over in the long run. Simply because she was jealous and bitter. Because she didn’t know how to suck it up and accept that her father screwed her over, and her husband figured out their “master plan”.

Nothing about Alicent Hightower spells out “gray”. As much as the showrunners attempt to whitewash her, she remains the antagonist in this story. The war that started was one she had been nourishing for years.

Say what you will about Daemon but he is the very definition of “gray”. Whether or not his actions also benefitted him is irrelevant. His actions, although immoral and sometimes cruel, were for the greater good of the royal family, a House he belonged to, one he never betrayed. And despite the constant attempts of the showrunners to make him out to be the “bad guy” by pilling on him things he never actually did in canon, it still makes him look a whole of a lot complex and gray than Alicent ever will be.

Daemon is forever loyal to his family, and the House who rightfully holds the power in Westeros. Despite his actions, that makes him the anti-hero of the story. Alicent betrayed the House she married into, betrayed her husband, and committed high treason when she attempted to change the line of succession, for the sole reason that it benefitted her side of the family. That makes her the anti-villain (and I am being generous here, acknowledging the very few good qualities she possesses in the show, but her deeds are ultimately done in the name of evil).

And P.S: Let’s not pretend like the main obsession certain fans have with Alicent Hightower isn’t because she is portrayed by Olivia Cooke. If she were portrayed by a perceived-ugly/average actress, no one would be so quick to defend the character.

#Is it really that hard to understand why people love Daemon and hate Alicent? #pro daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen #anti alicent hightower #anti alicent stans #anti team green #team black #pro team black #anti team green stans #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #fire and blood #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #queen rhaenyra #anti greens