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nelle-y · 2 months

Note

I loved your recent Alhaitham fic! I was wondering if you would consider writing a pt. 2 where Alhaitham regrets how he treated you and attempts to win you back (maybe 4ggravate finds out and attempts to help Alhaitham to win you back)? I understand if not. Thank you for sharing your writing!

Thank you so much for liking my first fic! Feel free to request anything genshin-related and I’ll try my best to provide!

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath (pt. 2)

It was rare, I was there

Here’s part 1!

Synopsis: despite the neglect and everything that happened, you both still longed for each other…

Content: Alhaitham x fem!reader, wingmen!4ggravate, implied Dehyarzad, Collei, absent Cyno, Tighnari, second chances, writer!reader, angst to comfort, reader is with someone else

Warnings: slight cursing, long intro again (I can’t help it), mild spoilers for Sumeru archon quest chapter 3 act 2, Collei goes missing

Note: this part can be optional for you. If you prefer to end it at part one, then feel free to do so! But, if you’re a sucker for second chances (like me), then consider this a treat from me to you!

—

Nothing. You could hear nothing.

Not your heart pounding to the rhythm of your feet. Not the screaming in your head as you spotted familiar grey hair walking around the city. Your thoughts immediately tasted bitter—if he had the time to walk now, how come he hadn’t back then?

You surmise that you weren’t worth the step.

The weight of his absence hung over you like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the warmth of the day. Despite your efforts to push the pain aside, it crept back, heavy and suffocating. Your mother's words echoed in your mind like a haunting refrain, a reminder that perhaps you had been foolish to invest so much in someone who couldn't reciprocate your love.

The shops were as busy and ever; merchant services, inquiries about products, scholars out in the open. You were out for groceries, almost ashamed for showing your face after the scene you caused 15 days ago. The world needed to know you were strong, though, so you put a big smile on your face and a new perfume worth Alhaitham’s salary. You even reached out to Cyno about the book you mentioned; so far, everything has been accurate, according to him.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called to you. Turning your head in that direction, you see Dehya in the distance waving at you. Once you’ve said hello, she looked at you with a smirk on her face, “Wow, did a flower barf on you? You look radiant!”

“Radiant?” You humble yourself, “I don’t remember putting on any jewelry.”

“No, silly!” She gestured to your everything, “There’s this aura you’re emitting and it’s making you glow!” Glow? All you did these past few days was cry, eat, and write. Perhaps it was the tears that helped. They irritated your eyes so much it gave you a softer, more approachable look. “Do you think you could lend me some of that eyeshadow?”

Try crying every hour, Dehya. “Ah, I just did a favor for a friend studying cosmetology. I’m not entirely sure what products they used,” you lie. Thinking about Alhaitham will certainly eat you alive; you change the subject despite the flattery you enjoyed. “What brings you to the city?”

Enthusiasm spouts from the mercenary, “My lady Dunyarzad invited me over for the Sabzeruz Festival; and you know me, I gotta be there for my lady!”

You found it adorable—almost enviable—how they still keep in touch even after Dehya’s resignation. Call a spade a spade, that is real commitment. It makes you wonder if you’d be here, ‘radiant’ and ‘glowing,’ if you were treated that way.

“The Sabzeruz Festival? I didn’t realize it was so close. Wow, time surely flies.” Suddenly, you feel excitement rush through your veins, a new experience after days of steady tides.

“Couldn’t agree more,” said Dehya. From a distance, you both heard Dunyarzad call her name. “Ah, it looks like she needs me back there. I better go check on her. If you want, you should totally come over the bazaar once the festival is ready. Dunyarzad and I would be lucky to have you celebrate with us!” After you gave an accepting nod and farewell, Dehya ran off to the woman in purple, practically skipping on her feet.

As you watched their lively interaction, a surge of envy and longing swept through you. Their easy camaraderie and genuine happiness a stark contrast to the emptiness and loneliness gnawing at your insides. You had longed to experience that kind of connection, to be enveloped in the warmth of love and companionship once more. But deep down, you knew it was a distant dream, a fantasy you could never reclaim.

You weren’t a religious person, but out of sheer desperation, you prayed.

Lesser Lord Kusanali, please free me from this torment. Let the flowers in my garden bloom of life, let the fruits grow ripe even without much sun, let the trees reach the highest of buildings.

—

Simple greetings and little nods, Alhaitham wouldn’t have minded if those scholars were you. In fact, instead of returning those nods and hellos, he would embrace you, lift your feet off the ground and spin you around like you always wanted.

After you stormed out the tavern, Cyno went ahead and asked what happened to the both of you. For the first time, he couldn’t give a straight answer. Every excuse seemed to damage your image, and that was the last thing he wanted. Kaveh ended up taking over to save him the embarrassment.

The 15 days he burned for you were like falling into the abyss, fighting every day to the brink of death, unable to eat the sustenance that came from your warmth.

The now Scribe Alhaitham needed something to keep you off his mind. He considered attending a meeting, but none seemed to pique his interest. Every thought ended up on your doorstep, making him think of dropping by. “Kaveh,” he called the architect scribbling on his notebook, “have you seen Y/N, as of late?”

“No, she hasn’t been feeling well these past few weeks. Shouldn’t you be in a meeting?”

“Shouldn’t you be paying rent?”

Kaveh cursed at Alhaitham, “I’m trying to make the money, goddamit!”

“Maybe you would have the money if you stopped settling for your clients’ low budgets.”

“Is it hard to find me considerate?”

“I’d rather call it pathetic.”

“Go catch whatever Y/N has,” he shooed Alhaitham away, “maybe that would give you some perspective.”

The scribe stood silent for a few seconds. He knew his roommate was right, he should’ve thought about how you felt before anything. Kaveh was about to believe he had won a squabble for once, but then he suddenly revealed, “Y/N… is angry at me.”

Kaveh pshawed at him, “With the way you talked to her? No shit.” Alhaitham didn’t move an inch. “Hey, what happened there, anyway? It wasn’t like Y/N to burst out to you like that. Are you hiding something?”

With a sigh, the grey-haired man decided to reveal everything to his roommate. He listened intently, gasping and scolding him for his lack of attention towards you, adding salt to his open wounds. Upon recalling the words the scribe had said, Kaveh took a slight breath, “You fucked up.”

“I know.”

“You need to go fix this.”

“I know.”

“And you were calling me pathetic!”

“I know! I just-“ he couldn’t believe he was saying this. “I need help.”

As he was popularly known, Alhaitham wasn’t one to ask for help. Not because he had too much pride, but because he knew how to solve things like the back of his hand. He had access to numerous files from the Akasha, and he had connections to powerful people, being the scribe and all.

But this was a different situation. Every solution did not guarantee a 100% success rate, 87% at best, and that was not enough for Alhaitham. He was ready to do anything for you, to get on his knees and raise you to the highest regard, to even beg.

“I could ask Tighnari,” Kaveh began, “The Sabzeruz Festival is coming soon, maybe you could ask her out?”

Right, now that he’s perceived as a hero of his nation, he is expected to attend these festivals. He never bothered to come before, and he wouldn’t now, but he was willing to if it meant getting to see you again. “I don’t think she’ll be accepting me as her date.”

“Then we’ll talk to her.”

“Will she be willing to listen? Wait, isn’t she sick?”

Kaveh sighed, downhearted, “Right.” Then he clicked his fingers at the scribe, “I have an idea!”

—

“Collei? What are you doing here,” you said after opening your door. She drew a small grin with worried eyes, holding a box of goods for you. It’s been a while since you saw her, she grew up well, taller since your last meeting.

“Hello, miss Y/N! I heard from Master Tighnari that you weren’t feeling well,” yes, you distinctly remember lying to them (Tighnari, and Kaveh) so they wouldn’t see you as often. “So I thought I could bring you simple remedies.” The little girl observed you. “But now I think there’s no need for that,” she chuckled.

“Ah, yeah, don’t worry, it was just a small cold. Speaking of Tighnari, how come he isn’t here with you?” You ushered her in and sat her down for some tea, placing her box of medicines on the counter.

“He had some business to attend to with a merchant and allowed me to visit you. It’s been a while since you’ve travelled to Gandharva Ville, miss Y/N, do you have any plans on visiting?”

“Yes, I’m thinking of basing the rainforest as the main setting for my new book, actually.”

You both chatted about everything you could as you waited for the water to boil. Afterwards, you served a hot teapot, dwelling in mint and lotus herbs. “Ah, Collei, how long are you and Tighnari staying in the city?”

“Just for three days, though I would like to stay until after the Sabzeruz Festival,” she chuckles, holding her now warm cup in her hands.

“You could come with me if Tighnari would allow it.”

The little girl’s eyes beamed with stars, “Really? Oh, I’ve been dreaming of going to one for ages! Miss Nilou will be performing, right?” You nod to her delight, “Yes! Archons, I really hope Master would let me.”

As if he heard his name, Tighnari knocked on your door. Opening it, he looked glad seeing your healthy state. “Y/N! Good to see you’re feeling well now.” He peaked behind you to see Collei sip from her cup.

Upon recognizing her master, Collei got up and greeted him. “Hi, Master! Miss Y/N and I were just talking about the Sabzeruz Festival, and that I could come with her to see Miss Nilou perform!” Her enthusiasm was as contagious as a cold, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“As long as it wouldn’t be a hassle for Y/N, and that you would always be careful when purchasing products,” Tighnari worries like a mother. “Always look at the expiration dates, check if there are anything you’re allergic to.”

He goes on and on for about 5 minutes until you cut him off, “Alright, alright, Tighnari, it’s not like she’ll be going all alone; she has me with her!”

With this, Collei wrapped her arms around your waist, ever so thankful for your support. You thought of her as a niece, and she thought of you as an auntie, willing to give her advice on anything, trivial or not. After a few more words exchanged, and details for the festival, the pair decide to head to their cottage.

For once, you enjoyed your time and not think of Alhaitham once!

Oops.

—

It was the day of the Sabzeruz Festival; you had already picked Collei up from their cottage and are on your way to the Grand Bazaar. You could see thousands of attendees, travelling merchants, and familiar faces on the way.

As the vibrant colors and lights of the festival unfolded before you, the once a source of excitement and anticipation now loomed before you like a daunting reminder of what you had done. Despite Dehya's invitation, you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of joyous revelry. Each smile, each laugh felt like a dagger to your already wounded heart, a painful reminder of the love you had lost and the embarrassment that now consumed you.

But this was no time for dwelling upon the memories that brought misery, remember, Collei is counting on you to give her a good time.

“Y/N, Collei!” You spot Kaveh in the distance waving and walking your way. Collei happily waved back. “I’m so glad I could run into you guys, you have no idea how terrified I am of meeting a client by accident.”

You laughed, “Do I have to accompany you, too, Kaveh?”

“Actually, I was thinking of letting you have some fun while I take care of little Collei here.” He ruffles her neatly-done hair, now messy but more natural-looking. This led Collei to bring out a small comb to fix it.

You felt irresponsible leaving Collei in someone else’s care, you’d said you would take care of her, and it felt like you would be breaking a promise if you agreed to his offer. You tuck your hair behind your ear, “I don’t know, Kaveh, something feels wrong about that, no offense. Plus, if something were to happen to Collei, we wouldn’t hear the end of it; you wouldn’t like Tighnari when he’s angry.”

“A fair point, but you’ve been locked up in your house for two weeks, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. You deserve to be out there, butterfly, spread the wings you grew from being in that cocoon!”

That somehow felt too specific. Does he know something? Collei starts to agree, despite seeming so excited to go with you. “Even you, Collei?” You sigh, “Fine, but if something happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You weren’t expecting to have so much fun here. The lights, the music, even the people were a blast! At first you were anxious for Collei, checking in from time to time, then as you continued to do so, your vists would be more spaced apart. You drank some punch with Dehya and Dunyarzad, who seemed to be doing really well for themselves, then you danced with the crowd in the name of Lesser Lord Kusanali.

After all of that, it was time for one last dance before Nilou’s grand performance. The band began to play a soft, romantic folk song. “Alright, Sumeru City,” called the lead singer, their voice sonorous with seduction, “before we settle down for the reknowned Nilou, let’s have a little treat for all the couples out there. So, grab your partner and dance along.”

Just as you were at the height of excitement, everything seemed to come crashing down again. You stood on the sidelines, feeling lost and out of place. Dehya and Dunyarzad swayed together, hand in hand. A lot of other couples came together and danced. The passion embedded in the song they sang only made you feel more alone, the walls of the Grand Bazaar growing taller and taller as you gazed upon them in longing.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, a man you don’t remember meeting. “Excuse me, miss, could I trouble you with a dance?” He looked about your age, a nice smile and an energetic demeanor. You were cautious of his intentions, though. It’s possible to have fun while maintaining a distance, right?

You accepted his invitation, all of the sudden you felt a sick knot in your stomach, like you were cheating on Alhaitham. But you weren’t together anymore, why would you stop yourself from meeting new people?

The man said his name was Hafan, a mercenary from the Corps of Thirty. He offered to buy you a drink once the dance was over, and again, you gladly accepted while the sweat in your palms said otherwise. You talked with every step you took, getting to know each other and telling stories. He made you laugh—a lot—and you impressed him with your witty comebacks. Perhaps this was the Dendro Archon’s response to your prayer? A hand to guide you through the maze, and to help you believe in love again?

But just amidst the merry atmosphere of the festival, a lingering anxiousness settled within your stomach.

Then, you saw him.

Alhaitham stood in the corner of the room, the desperate merchants and harmonizing of the band seemed to die down as time stood still. The vibrant colors faded into shades of grey as your heart clenched with a mixture of dread and longing.

It was as if a gate had opened within you, unleashing a torrent of emotions you had struggled to contain. Guilt gnawed at your conscience, regret tore your chest open, and love gave your heart to him.

As Hafan twirled you gracefully across the makeshift floor, you held your gaze with Alhaitham, your heart torn between the past and the present, between what was and what could’ve been.

Maybe you had been thinking too rashly, maybe he had changed over the course of your absence. The way he looked at you with such burning could not make you think otherwise.

In that moment, with all the crowds in the festival and the ache of your fractured heart, you knew for certain—no matter how hard you deny it, no matter how fast you tried to run, you could never escape the grasp he had on your soul.

The dance had ended, though it felt like it just started. Before Hafan could get that drink he promised, you said, “I’m sorry, Hafan.” He looked at you in confusion. “You must be looking for someone to—I don’t know—spend the rest of the festival with, and I don’t think I can fulfill that position. You’re a sweet guy, truly, I’m just not in a good place for anything right now.” Archons, you sounded ridiculous. But to your suprise, the man hardly took it personally.

“It’s okay, I get it. I had fun with you tonight, Y/N. You’re a great person to be around.” You almost regret having to end your time with him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” He gave you a nod of farewell and left your side.

You looked in the direction of Alhaitham, again, hoping to catch that feeling of familiarity, but you had found he was no longer there. Perhaps it was your imagination.

You then searched for Collei and Kaveh, but they were nowhere to be found. They weren’t near the stalls, or in front of the stage.

They were nowhere in the bazaar.

The panic you felt shook your entire foundation, the pillars that kept you from going back home, back to the pain.

What if they had been kidnapped? You trusted Kaveh’s words, that he would take care of her, but for all you know they could be in the middle of the desert right now! What if Kaveh had run into a client and got distracted? What if Collei got injured or hospitalized?

Your heart began beating in your ears, your breath hastened with every thump. The air seemed so thin in the enclosed space, you needed to go outside. Yes, perhaps you could have a better chance at finding them out there, too.

As you walked out the doors of the Grand Bazaar, Collei’s name immediately echoed through the night. “Collei!” After numerous calls left with no answers, lumps of tears began crawling down your cheeks. “Oh my archon,” you sobbed. You could imagine the look on Tighnari’s face, the worry, the anger, the disappointment.

The feeling of losing them was clawing to your soul, like a mother bird losing her chick after their first flight. If they go missing, it was your fault. That fact will forever stain your soul, haunting your remaining days until the sweet release of death.

You sat on a curb, just near the entrance of the bazaar in hopes that the little girl and the architect would return unharmed. More tears had revealed themselves as your thoughts grew more and more intense, terrorizing, even.

The streets were so quiet, only the music from the festival and the first chirps of the crickets seemed to fill your ears, your sobs excluded. No guards or matras were present with you. Who the hell was in charge of security here!? The starry sky brought a comfortable cold instead of blazing heat.

You then heard footsteps from the bazaar and a person sitting beside you. “I walked them home,” a gruff voice sounded, “Collei was getting tired.”

Just your luck, the man who sat with you was no other than Alhaitham. Despite the conflicting emotions that came to you in a flash, you were relieved that Collei was safe. You let out a heavy breath. “Thank you,” you sniff, brushing away the tears that stained your face.

It was quiet again, for a while. You could hear Nilou’s music from outside; “Collei would’ve loved seeing Nilou dance,” you thought aloud. “I remember her basking about it when she had just became Tighnari’s pupil.” Suddenly, you felt calmer, safer now that the eerie silence accompanied you with the presence of the man you knew as well as breathing.

—

Alhaitham couldn’t say anything, busying himself gazing upon your eyes and your weakly pulled smile. There was still sadness lingering within them, covered by a coating of relief. He felt remorse for taking Collei away from you, for making you worry like this, for leaving you in the dark for a long, long time. Nonetheless, he was happy it led to you talking to him again. He was almost certain this day would never come.

Then he is reminded of you dancing with another man. His heart pounded erratically against his chest, each beat echoing the tumultuous storm of emotions raging within him. He had come to the festival in search of hope and redemption, a fleeting reprieve from the pain that chewed up his soul. But instead, he had found more heartache, contrary to the plan.

As he watched you twirl and sway with the man’s hand in yours, he felt as though the world tilted off its axis, leaving him teetering on the precipice of anguish. How could you be dancing so freely with another when every fiber of his being yearned to hold you so close, to feel the warmth you gave him once more?

His hands clenched into fists against his knees, his jaw tightened with unexpressed emotion. He remembered how badly he wanted to look away, but the flow of your hair and how gracefully you moved wouldn’t let him, it was as if you had casted a spell upon him, forever tormenting him to stay on the sidelines, to repress the overwhelming desire to be the one twirling you around and making you smile.

A surge of conflicting emotions washed over him—a searing pang of jealousy intertwined with a profound sense of regret and longing. Then just when he was ready to cross the bridge that separated you, he felt a small tug on his darkened cape. “Mr. Scribe Alhaitham,” Collei said meekly, sheepishly rubbing her eyes, “Did the plan work?”

He remembers Kaveh’s words, so filled with determination, She’ll do anything for Collei, so if she asks to go to the festival, Y/N will for sure accompany her! Once the slow dance starts, that’s when you’ll swoop in and declare your love.

And if it doesn’t work?, the scribe raised his eyebrows.

It will! I’ll make sure no one gets near her.

Boy, did that plan go to shit.

He gave the little girl a soft smile despite the mind-numbing pain in his chest. He knelt down to her level, “Isn’t Kaveh supposed to be with you?”

“Someone was talking to him just a while ago. It seemed pretty heated, so I slipped away when I got the chance,” she yawned.

“Of course,” Alhaitham muttered. Must be a client of his. “You look tired, Collei.”

“I think I’m ready to go home now, Mr. Alhaitham.” The drowsiness in her eyes could barely hold her awake. It was getting late, she must not be used to staying up at times like these.

Alhaitham looked back at you, wondering if you were still keeping your eyes on him. To no avail, it was like you had vanished like a ghost with the beautiful, painful sight he had witnessed along with you. A heavy feeling lingered in his chest, leaving him to wonder if you would lock your gaze with him again. Then he left, accompanying Collei back to her and Tighnari’s cottage.

On his way back to the bazaar for reasons unknown, he found you weeping in your hands, curled up like a shriveled bug beaten down, calling out Collei’s name. After he assured you of the little girl’s safety, you began talking about your experiences with her. Ever so glad, he listened to your voice, melodious and soothing like a lullaby to put him to sleep. The euphoria he experienced was one like no other, it was the first time he felt at peace for eons against the stars and the cool breeze. Then, he wondered, were you feeling the same?

“They found a new Grand Sage,” he announced.

“Is that why you have the time now?” Your words stung his morality, picking on the weak scabs of his mistakes.

He took a moment to respond. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Unable to meet his gaze, you managed a casual tone, “I know, Alhaitham.” His name sounded like a song whenever it came from your lips. “Besides, it’s not your fault.” Your voice was then hoarse of emotion, fingers picking at the dirt beneath you. “I shouldn’t have let myself to get lost in my own thoughts.”

“But I should’ve been there for you,” Alhaitham insisted. “I should not have made you feel like you were alone.”

“But it happened anyway.”

For a moment, silence enveloped the space between you, only broken by the distant sounds of the festival. Then, slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, in a light that had no remorse, for the first time since you told him to leave.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you admitted, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “But I do know I’m willing to try.”

With this, Alhaitham took you in a warm embrace, letting out a shaky breath as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He then held you by the shoulders, teary as you released him from this torture. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right again.”

As you looked into his eyes, you found the sincerity in his voice, determination reflecting upon his irises. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn’t deny the hope that ignited in your stomach. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to find your way back together.

You held his hands first, then traced your way to his cheeks, warm with anticipation. Then you pulled him into a kiss that was long overdue, Alhaitham almost tumbling from the force you had exerted.

As your lips meet, there is a softness, a tenderness in the way they press together, as if each touch carries the weight of a thousand whispered promises. Time seems to stand still as you both lose yourselves in the sensation, senses heightened by the intoxicating blend of warmth and desire. It's a symphony of sensations—a gentle caress, a fleeting brush of lips, a silent exchange of emotions that speaks volumes without a single word. And in that fleeting moment, you find solace, connection, and a sense of belonging in each other's embrace.

Slow as the breeze blew your hair, everything froze and only he brought the fire to relieve you of your vains. Alhaitham’s lips were soft and cold, clearly waiting for this day to come. When he leaned back for air, foreheads connected together, you breathed, “I love you.”

As you heard the crowd’s applause from a distance, as if cheering for your reconciling, he replied, “I love you more,” before pulling you in for another well-deserved kiss.

—the end.—

#genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fanfic #alhaitham angst #angst to comfort #4ggravate #alhaitham #alhaitham comfort #dehyarzad #genshin dehya #dunyarzad

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cowyolks · 7 months

Note

I would like to make a request

Knight Soap X Princess Reader. I've been dying for it. The King König is amazing!

AN OATH OF ROSE BRIAR

Pairing: Knight! John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Female!Princess! Reader

Prompt: It was always nightfall when he’d sneak into your chambers, yearning for love that tears apart at the seams. You didn’t know forbidden love could taste so divinely sweet.

Words: 6.8 K

Warnings: Violence, Gore, Graves is a creep, smut, p in v sex, oral sex (receiving), fingering, creampie, unprotected sex, hint of voyeurism.

A/n: don’t come at me for the action scenes, I know they’re bad lmao. Otherwise I’m proud of this, even though it took me years.

“Hold your breathe, My Lady.” A sharp tug pulled against your waist, securing your corset even tighter to your body, almost like a second skin. You’d been exclusively told you had to look perfect this week, as your father, the King, was inviting possible suitors for you.

It left an irony and rotten taste in your mouth.

You’d lifted your arms, feeling the soft and thick fabric of your crimson dress fall over the enlarged swells of your breasts and hips. It was gorgeous, laced and embroidered with golden roses. Gold jewelry proudly sat at the hollow of your throat and smooth skin of your wrists.

The maids had done well making you look the part. It was just a shame all of this was in vain. You’d never love any of your potential suitors, for there was already a man that had thieved your affections and ran with it like a sly fox.

And it just so happened he was someone you could never have. Ah, forbidden love.

A sharp tug on your scalp alerted you of the busy hands weaving your ruby crusted diadem over your temples. They’d spritzed your body in perfume and oils, using berries to bring out the plumpness of your lips. You felt beautiful, but a type of beautiful that would burn if you stood too close.

A knock on your chamber door startled you from your daydream.

“The King has requested your presence at the harbor docks, Princess.” His voice warmed your very soul and burned your beating organ. There was no possible way he didn’t know the true affect of his voice, his body, his affection. It was killing you from the inside out.

He was a spectacle.

In the eyes of the public he was Ser MacTavish, first of his name, and knight of the Royal Guard. To you, under the cloak of darkness and seclusion, you referred to him as John, chanting his name as you panted against his lips. He made you feel good, a rush of freedom and adoration that pooled in your gut like rolling waves.

Your maids stepped away, offering you tight and practiced curtesies as you thanked them with a smile. You shifted closer to the heavy door, one of your ladies in waiting pushing the door open.

You adjusted to the gentle summer sun, squinting in the rays and enjoying the balmy warmth of the air. Breeze blew from the Sea, fluttering your hair laced with pearls and beads.

A shift of metal drew your attention to your knight, someone who swore an oath to your father to protect him. Instead, he settled on protecting you, being your main guard and secretive lover. John stood tall and proud in his chainmail, your house crest displayed across his chest.

He had his helmet off, the piece of armor hanging loosely in the crook of his arm. He had a passive expression on his features, but you could tell by the look in his eyes that he was dreading this day as much as you.

You would be married off in less than a week, still you couldn’t help but look at him with greedy infatuation. He’d shaved for the occasion, jaw sharp and shining. His rosy lips contrasted the tanned richness of his skin. Even his eyes, the color of the restless sky, shone in sheer strength and power. His high rank was exposed through the gold beads and occasional shells that were braided through his ebony hair. The middle part was much longer than the sides. He always clipped it after a victory, and you’d never known him to have grown it out.

“Good Morn, Princess.” His deep voice twanged with the lit of his accent, making slight goosebumps ripple through your skin.

“How do you do, Ser?” You stepped forward, falling into step beside him as the two of you climbed down the steps to the bay. Gulls called out from above for their partners, stooping downwards to feed their young.

“Been better, I have. The lady I love will soon love another.” He muttered, hands clenching at his side with what you could detect as wretched jealousy. You noted he was just as miserable about your arrangement as you were. At least he still had his oath—nothing would change there. But you, you would bear a blood bond to your potential suitor. To obey him and provide him with heirs.

You felt bile rise up your throat just thinking about it.

“I doubt she will ever love anyone more than you.” You admitted, knowing then by the twinkle in his eyes it satisfied and gutted him at the same time. The scent of saltwater and seaside jasmine flooded your nostrils as John led you to your father, who was patiently awaiting for the approaching ships.

Ships of different houses, all set upon winning your hand. There would be a festival held all week, the kingdom was already decorated in crimson silks and glowing lanterns for the occasion. It would be beautiful, if it wasn’t for such horrible terms. With the festivals came the games. It was always fun to see the men compete in such activities despite the reason.

You distinctly remember watching the flex of your knight’s biceps and thighs as he tossed a caber the farthest and had won. Pride surged through your veins that day, and you made sure to reward him in the dim glowing light of your chambers.

Now, your suitors would compete for your hand. While it wasn’t necessarily determined that the winner of said games would earn your hand, it was more so a tool to help decide. The Royal Court and your father would pick the best with the most assets.

The only saving grace of this tournament was the fact that several knights under your Father’s command could compete as well. Not for your hand, but just to show the strength of your kingdom. Your eyes would be on your John, as they always would be.

Your knight stopped in front of your father, bowing his head low with one hand clutching the iron hilt of his impressive sword. You performed your own curtesy, gold jewelry clashing together as you moved.

“Daughter…aren’t you the prettiest gem in the Kingdom.” And isn’t that just what you are? A shiny object meant to barter away.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” You spoke clearly, something you were taught at a young age.

“Come here,” Your father gestured to the docking ships. You stepped forward, just as John stepped backwards, always one to watch your back. You could feel his fiery stare bouncing on the bare skin of your spine. Attempting to hide the rush of blood flowing to your cheeks, your eyes pinpointed the rush of banners heading down the enormous dock.

All your potential suitors came from the East, a district called Kortac. The land was split into three countries, all ruled by different Kings.

First, there was King Kim, dubbed Horangi. Most referred to him as the Tiger King, for his ruthlessness in battle that was reminded of a big cat. You’d met him before, he was respectable and kind despite those rumors, but he certainly wasn’t your John.

Then there was King Philip, while he was definitely pretty, you’d only heard bad about the wealthy King. He was the richest of all, as he had his own battalion deemed his shadows. You met his eyes slowly, almost immediately picking up on the greedy gleam of it. It made you shiver thinking of marrying him.

Lastly, was the most mysterious of the three. You didn’t even know his full name, just that everyone referred to him as König. He covered his face, although it didn’t stop the stares. Anyone would be drawn to a man of his massive structure. You’d never met him, but you’d heard how he fought alongside his soldiers, as if he didn’t give a damn about his Royal status.

Your father held his arms out wide, almost as if he was hugging his whole kingdom. “Welcome! It’s an honor to host your districts in hopes of winning my lovely daughter’s hand. You all must be tired from your journey, my guards will show you to your chambers. Rest up, because tonight will be our first game that the princess has the honor of choosing!”

All eyes settled upon your pampered form, making you shift slightly from all the attention. Subtly your eyes met John’s— what was he the best at? You wracked your mind quickly. He was a simple stable boy once upon a time, someone who loved horses and worked hard for the hope of something better. He was tall and strong, quick and witty. You thought of the callous on his hands, from hours of wielding metal and clutching reins. Yes, you had it.

“I chose jousting.” You exclaimed, not noticing the wicked smirk that wound its way across John’s lips. Cheers and war cries broke out amongst the men and common folk, all of them excited to watch the entertainment.

“Excellent! The games begin tonight before the feast to honor the princess.” Your father informed before clapping once as his guards escorted him to his chambers. John approached you again, bowing politely in show of all the new eyes.

“Back to your chambers, princess?” He asked, eyes flickering every once and a while. He looked stiffer than normal, ever the vigilant force at your side. You could tell he didn’t like all these outsiders, specifically around you.

“No, not yet. I feel like going on a walk through the gardens.” You’d always found solstice around the sweet smelling rows of briar and petal.

Afternoon bled into evening. And with the evening time came the air of excitement. You’d been fiddling with a strand of crimson fabric, the ribbon twisting between your digits absentmindedly.

You tilted your head behind you, wishful stare settling upon your guard, who walked several paces behind. He was dressed in full armor now, the helmet covering the soft flesh of his neck and head. Dark hair still curled out the bottom, whipping around against his tanned neck.

Your eyes flickered around, spotting no one in the private gardens. Still, you cautiously shuffled into the shade and privacy of the marble pavilion, a place where you and your knight’s lips locked and fiery touches met before. John knew to follow you, his form barely making a sound despite the heavy armor.

“Princess?” He uttered, eyes full of what only could be described as pure want and adoration.

You surged forward, lips immediately settling upon his own. A large arm wrapped upon your waist, pulling you off your feet and into his scent and warmth. His bottom lip parted, allowing his tongue to swelteringly lick across your own. You parted for air, a string of saliva connecting the two of you before it broke away.

“Please win tonight.” You begged, knowing that it would mean nothing despite the victory. John had sworn an oath— an oath that sealed his fate. No children, no wife, no lands. He’d have his head on a chopping block if anyone caught him.

“Aye, I’ll do just that, flower.” He swore, smothering eyes falling downwards to your moving hands at his chest. The scarlet ribbon you fiddled with snaked it’s way under armor. You’d tied the knot against the loose end of his tunic, your personal favor. The pads of your fingers brushed his chest, feeling the strong thudding of his heart.

He had your favor, your love, your time all symbolized in that red piece of fabric.

“Go,” you whispered, nodding towards the south, where the growing arena was likely filling up with spectators. He nodded his head once, grasping onto your hand that still stubbornly clung to his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss upon your knuckles.

“Goodbye for now.”

You watched him leave, following the horizon to the stables, where his mare awaited. You’d rushed down to the stands, keeping your head covered and away from prying eyes. After shifting pass several soldiers you collapsed down into the forged steel of your throne, similar to your father’s.

He’d been waiting for you, a disappointing look crossing his features.

“Why were you late?”

“I lost track of time in the gardens. You know how much I love the roses.” You excused, hoping it was enough for your father to put on his act of King and host again. He hummed, before standing. The audience immediately dropped volume upon the gesture of the King.

“Let the games begin!”

Loud uproars broke out though the area, cheers and shouts for their own kings escaping the many districts. You stayed seated, straightening out the sheer fabric of your gown.

A large black Stallion trotted proudly into the area, a knight with gleaming armor the color of obsidian upon the saddle. John’s second in command, Ser Simon. Some called him the Ghost, for his shifty speed and impressive strength in battle. He nodded to your father beyond his visor, shouldering the large lance he held.

His opponent’s horse moved forward as well, a buckskin shire so large you could almost hear it’s thundering steps. Large horse for a large man—König shouldered his lance with precision. You had no doubts he could out muscle Simon, but the Ghost certainly held fast in his speed and intelligence. König’s armor was coppery in color, long since used and well worn in his victories. It was admirable in a queasy kind of way.

A bugle sounded to your left, kick starting the joust with a burst of added cheers.

You watched as Simon’s horse reared excitedly, happy to speed towards the oncoming opponent in long strides. You watched as the Ghost twisted his shield, jamming König’s lance narrowly, avoiding splinters to his chest. You let out a breath as the two made it to the opposite ends unscathed.

The two approached again, this time Ghost was on the offense, shifting his shield before jabbing his lance in the opposite direction that caught König on his arm between the subtle crease of his armor.

Cheers erupted from your own subjects, chanting out the name “Ghost” over and over, with a thumb up, your father declared Ghost the winner.

Next was King Graves and Horangi. A match you were looking forward to as much as watching paintings dry. But alas, you had to look interested for they were your suitors.

Horangi looked on with flashing intelligence, something you admired greatly. If he could think quickly, he’d know that Graves’ left side was always weakly guarded and possibly strike there.

The first bugle sounded, allowing Graves to lead off first with his expensive looking mare. Horangi took off a second later, visor dark and covering the movement of his eyes. The two flew forward, speeding pass with no damage done.

The crowd cheered as Graves boasted from the opposite side, his raised arms making your nose wrinkle in disgust.

The second bugle sounded, this time Horangi was faster, shouldering his shield in determined might. His lance favored and aimed to Graves side, which he narrowly missed after the wealthy king twisted away. The crowd bursted into relieving calls, while the other half sighed in disappointment.

Finally, the last horn blew, and with gaining speed, Horangi aimed to Graves’ unprotected side again, but with a dirty trick, Graves juked his lance to the side, then with a vicious twist brought his shield straight onto the nose of Horangi, essentially flattening him and having the Tiger King fold to the ground with a wounded puff.

It was dirty, but essentially fair. It made unease reside in your gut as your father held up a thumb for King Graves’ victory. Cheers and boos broke out, making you shrink back in your seat with a huff. But then, your eyes caught on the sapphire blues of your knight. He rode on his fiery mare dubbed Themis, tribute to Justice. She was a handsome bay that loved when you gave her sugar cubes in the seclusion of the stables.

John would take on the Ghost. A battle that you knew would be entertaining and competitive, yet harmless. No ill intention would breakout among the knights, that you were sure of.

John rode to his side with a determined exhale, gripping his lance tightly as Themis pawed the dirt in anticipation. The bugle sounded as you shuffled to the edge of your seat, resisting the urge to worriedly bite your lip. He clicked his tongue, urging Themis into a speedy canter as he maneuvered his body in the right position.

Simon, who definitely owned the strength, brought himself tightly together, using his blunt force to push John’s lance away with his shield. The audience sighed in anticipation as the two knights rode to the opposite side unscathed. Under their visors, you could see the hints of amused smiles. At least they were having some competing fun.

The next round started, this time with John taking up a defensive position instead of offensive. Simon aimed his lance at John’s armored chest, anticipating that he’d block with his shield. Themis galloped onwards, huffing steaming smoke like a fiery dragon.

With a heave, Simon thrusted the lance inwards just as John brought his shield up a few inches. Then, with a lightening quick speed, he lowered it again, shoving his lance instead into Simon’s side, effectively teetering his balance. The Ghost fell with grace, landing on his feet in a disappointed dull thud. You resisted the urge to cheer too loudly as your John circled, a fist pumped in honorable victory.

Your father held his thumb up to John, likely the only approval he’d ever receive from the King. You only wish he’d approve of you wanting John’s hand. But Princesses weren’t people, they were tools of power. A simple pawn in the decade game of chess.

The tourney was drawing to an end— just John and Graves left in the competition. You’d completely dropped your resolve, chewing upon your lip as King Graves pranced out on his horse again.

There was a dangerous look in his eye, something that made your stomach spin in knots for your John. Regardless, your own knight held a hard and determined scowl, his chest likely breathing in pure desperation for a victory.

The deafening horn blew again, and John took off in a thunderous offense. He looked calm and collected, ever the cool demeanor when it came to a fight. Themis whinnied in disappointment as both lances missed their marks respectfully, making you let out an exhale you didn’t know you were holding.

Time sped up, your own surroundings moving much faster than your panicked thoughts. The next thing you knew, Themis was squealing, rearing up on her hind legs as John scrambled for a tighter hold on her reins. But you knew your John, your sweet, selfless, passionate John— it didn’t surprise you in the slightest that he dismounted in a cloud of dust. He was always selfless like that, disqualifying himself to check upon his panicked mare.

Themis seized her bucking as John cooed at her in reassuring words, a quick pat pressed into her withers.

Then you noticed the searing red of a laceration. The bleeding wound leaked crimson, but it wasn’t the blood that made your nostrils flare in anger. No, it was thin stripe of such a cut. A cut only made by a stealthy swing of a short sword.

The bastard king had cheated.

Roaring applause and boos echoed across the arena. You had to bite your tongue to resist a uproar of your own, so much so that you tasted warm blood upon your tongue.

You met John’s eyes, his filled with so much apologetic sorrow you had to blink to stop your own from watering too much. It wasn’t that you were upset that he lost, more so that it wouldn’t matter regardless. He was sweetness you could never taste, love that would only burn you.

You’d realized this now. Now so more than ever, when the sight of your own summer roses extended in front of your line of sight.

A crown of beauty and fertility. You couldn’t help but focus on the wicked thorns that pierced your temples as King Graves, the victor, declared you the most beautiful woman in the kingdom. It made you sick that he was the most favorable of the Kings. You’d never wanted to run away more, to spend your days on the highland coasts in a homey cottage your knight had built by hand. Saltwater between your toes and John’s body to keep you warm on the stormy days.

Perhaps, now would be the time to throw away your titles and fortune and replace it with freedom, love, and yearning.

The evening blurred into darkness illuminated by glowing starlight. A time you relished and anticipated when your knight would slip into your chambers and kiss away the stress and pain of expectations, orders, and rules.

Now, you wanted nothing more than to be excused from this wretched dinner and to sleep until dawn.

The crown of roses sat uncomfortably upon your head, despite all the compliments you had received from the nobles. You’d see it more fair to chuck the bloody thing in the roaring fires bordering the stony hall. Sorrow crept into your soul when you couldn’t find your knight in the sea of feasting people.

Your own roast chicken and vegetables lay untouched. It was hard to even think of eating when King Phillip sat next to you, boasting and smiling with his too white teeth. You wanted to get sick when his hand subtly touched your lower back.

“Father.” You blurted, drawing attention upon yourself. Graves’ retracted his jeweled hand begrudgingly upon the careful look he received from your king. Visibly you gulped, now having the divided attention of not just your father but the three other Kings as well.

“I’m not feeling well. I’d like to return to my chambers if it is quite alright with you.” You asked, nearly squirming at the sharp look he sent you. He didn’t appreciate your resistance to being wed, but you did happen to look a tad lighter than your typical shade. He sighed heavily, but nodded anyways.

“Go get some rest. I’ll have Ser Riley escort you since your own knight is still tending to his mare.” Your heart jumped as your father confirmed where John was. But you knew, in your heart, he wasn’t just taking care of Themis— he was shouldering his defeat badly.

Despite this, you stood, making careful eye contact with Ser Simon. You’d always observed him from afar, growing unnecessarily nervous with the helmeted knight. He was strong and mysterious, not belonging to a house or clan but was simply a nomad that sworn oath. Your John liked him, that was enough for you. After all, He wasn’t so bad when he cracked morbid jokes you likely should never hear as a Princess.

The Ghost held out the crook of his arm, signaling for you to take the cold metal of his armored forearm. You did so quietly, holding the stiffness of your posture until you were through the large doors of the hall.

Simon was always quiet, really only speaking when he needed to. John told you one time, when the two fought under the same battalion that Simon wouldn’t shut up or stop cracking jokes as he dragged a wounded John through the battlefield. Your knight realized then that Simon only spoke to keep him conscious and laughing. Respect and gratitude bloomed in your heart for the Ghost.

“I assume your sickness has left?” The Ghost spoke in his rough voice that reminded you of scratchy bark on Oak trees. Your heart jumped at such an accusing question.

“Pardon?”

“The damn parasite king? Leaching onto our Princess like he’s some Messiah.” He growled.

“Shhh! What if someone hears you speak that way, Ser?” You panicked for his safety, eyes flickering around in a familiar practice of looking for wondering eyes or ears. Simon, didn’t seem bothered, only shrugging in nonchalance.

He steered you down the hall, bicep gently flexing under your palm. It was then when you noticed he took a wrong turn, instead following the lantern light to the stables.

“You turned the wrong hall, my chambers are this way.” You insisted. Simon shook his head, continuing to usher you gently down the cobble path to the growing sound of whickering horses.

“Ser?”

“You speak too much.” Simon imputed, leading you into the old wooden building that housed all the guard’s prized mares and stallions. It was dark inside, the area barely lit with gentle candlelight. Still, you made out the shuffling outline of a familiar body.

John.

It took everything in you not to sprint in his direction. To pull him into an embrace and kiss the worry lines of his face. Instead you stayed planted next to Simon, who gingerly dropped your arm with a knowing look in his eyes. You should have been worried that he knew, but you could care less at the current moment. He was friend, not foe.

“I think I hear the sound of impending doom. I must go before it’s too late.” Simon monotonously quipped in a low voice, tilting his masked face just enough for you to see his wink before he turned on his heel and left you alone.

Your eyes swiveled around, only catching on the taut muscles of John’s back, who didn’t seem to notice you over the sound of Themis’ affectionate whinnies.

You took careful steps forward, not caring that the bottom of your expensive crimson gown was being caked in dust and straw. Instead you couldn’t help but admire your knight. He was shoveling loose hay into Themis’ trough, back muscles rippling in strain. You caught the white material of bandage wrapped tightly and professionally around his horse, obviously the work of his experienced hands.

“John?” You spoke softly, as not to startle his usually alert self. It appeared he only cared about his surroundings when you were his to guard and protect.

Immediately he dropped the pitchfork, the sound muffled by the hay below his feet. Then he turned, so fast that you missed the pure looks of sorrow, surprise and adoration cross his features.

“Princess! I- you shouldn’t be here.”

Your heart strained at the rejection, nevertheless you knew he was frustrated and self loathing. You couldn’t help but approach him, just as he took a leaping bound forward, pushing pass the gate to follow you like a loyal hound.

It was common practice for the two of you to find the dim part of a room. A place where no eyes or ears could possibly look.

Here, his stiffness fled, eyes nearly glowing against the flickering flames.

“I failed you.” His head hung low, knees almost buckling from the sheer disappointment that pushed heavy on his heart. He avoided your approaching form, not taking the time to meet your gaze or see the shaking of your head.

“You could never fail me, John. Not now, nor ever.” Your palm settled upon his stubbled cheek, his body instantly reacting to the touch by pushing further against you.

“But I-”

You cut him off, placing your thumb upon the chapped line of his lip. He’d immediately stopped speaking, his hand going upwards to delicately take a hold of your own. His palm nearly swallowed your entire hand, his calloused fingertips stopping just above your wrists.

“I don’t deserve you, Princess.” He’d absentmindedly brought his thumb across your knuckles, comforting and true that made your body buzz in love and adoration.

You reached upwards, tilting your head just enough to ghost your lips over his own. You’d let him chose if he’d like to take comfort in your warmth. A small grunt of frustration fluttered down his throat, but he took you anyways.

Arm wrapping tightly upon your waist to hold you to his warm body, firm with countless hours of training and bloodshed. His other hand settled upon the back of your neck, fingers sprawling with the purpose to expand you towards his awaiting mouth. A sharp gasp of surprise exited you as he kissed you. It wasn’t his typical sensation of passion and sweetness.

John kissed you hard. His teeth clattering against your own, with his tongue pushing down your throat in a one-sided battle of dominance. He was chasing his frustration through your very body, and you certainly liked it.

“Don’t know what you do to me…” he breathed out as he broke away, only to steer you against the far wooden wall, protecting the back of your head with the back of his hand.

“I think I know.” You quipped back, the heat coiling in your stomach roaring at the sharp look you received.

“Cheeky little thing…” he hissed, one of his hands holding you steady while the other trailed down your collar bone to the top curvature of your breasts. His mouth followed after. Lips pressing searing kisses against your exposed neck, down to the hollow of your throat.

“John.” You sweetly aired, exposing your throat even more to his awaiting mouth.

“I know, flower, I know.” His voice growing even deeper with the lust that coated his tongue like sweet honey. “Turn around.” He muttered, maneuvering your hips so that you could rotate with your back to him.

His fingers quickly found your corset in a familiar action, loosing it enough to help pull down your undergarments. His mouth pressed open kisses down the curve of your spine, making you gasp breathlessly and arch further against him. You felt the hardness of his cock press against your lower back, just as he hissed at the stimulation.

“Fuck…Need to taste ya’.” He growled in a command, typically the only time he did order around his superior. You had no problem following his experienced lead.

You heard the gentle thud of his knees hitting the straw bedding, just as his hand pushed on your hip to pivot to face him. Eyes once the color of the sky now raged like a stormy hurricane, dark and ravenous. It was enough for you to widen your legs more in an invitation.

The tips of his fingers traced the warm skin of your thighs, just as his head disappeared from under the soft silk of your dress. Hot air escaped onto your uncovered heat, making your eyes flutter shut in bliss.

“John,” you whined, oblivious to what he was planning beneath the drape. A growly chuckle sounded, until his lips made direct contact to your throbbing clit, his warm tongue flicking upon the bead in a teasing stroke that had your legs locking as they became pliable at his touch.

“Easy….” His palm made contact with the soft swell of your backside, molding his fingers into the skin that ached and buzzed for just him.

A soft sigh left your lips as he petted you, fingertips touching and caresssing with such accuracy despite the darkness under your dress. You mewled when a thick finger prodded your entrance, sliding nearly effortlessly into your wet heat.

“Fuckin’ hell, Bonnie, always so tight for me.” He growled, voice so heavenly you couldn’t stop your muscles from clenching yearningly against him. You cooed in response as he curled the digit, your own palms finding his shoulders to steady yourself from his burning touch.

“Just for you.” You pleaded, neck pushing back against the wood of the stable wall. Your throat bobbed when his tongue licked a hot stripe, body shuddering in ecstasy. John chuckled at your words, the vibration sending jolts across your core.

“That’s right, Flower. All mine, no sod of a King can have you. Just me, right?” He added another finger, relishing in your loss of control at his confident touch.

“Right, yes.” You gulped, losing yourself embarrassingly quick under his skilled tongue and fingers dipping into you. He picked up speed, noticing the tell tale signs of your body responding to his.

“Oh, John,” you stuttered, eyes fluttering shut as he curled his fingers skillfully, the movement being enough to allow the coil in your abdomen to finally snap.

You gushed around him with a carnal moan, his tongue hurriedly lapping it all up greedily, just as he hummed at the taste. You barely had time to heave out an exhale before his hands found the flesh of your hips, taking hold of you in a lovestruck desire. He placed a sweltering hot kiss upon the inside of your thigh. His massive hands pushed you upwards, allowing himself time to escape from under your crimson gown.

He looked like Eros reincarnated.

Crysaline eyes the color of deep-rooted glaciers bore into your very soul. He had a look to his face, such as a painting crafted of faithful devotion, as if he was staring at something so enchanting everything else dulled in comparison. Your own slick coated his stubble and lips, allowing the light to catch as he licked the nectar off with a satisfied hum.

He squeezed once, twice, upon your hips, signaling that he was to move backwards, his broad shoulders falling backwards upon the straw with a huff. He settled you down upon him, your thighs slotting between his hips as your dress spilled over the both of you.

“Yer’ so beautiful, flower.” He praised, candlelight catching in his blown out pupils. Your heart fluttered at the compliment, as did your weeping entrance.

“Mhm,” You preened, a soft smirk spreading over your lips as you leant to kiss him. With confident fingers, you reached under your dress, making contact with his waistband, sliding the material downwards before reaching his cock. He was scorching at your touch, already throbbing and prepared.

John let out a hiss muffled by your mouth, as your fingertip slid over his tip, smoothing the large bead of pre-cum that had gathered.

A delighted chuckle left your lips as he twitched, you pumped his length slowly, curving your wrist just how he liked it. He pulled away from your kiss with a heave, a growl leaving his throat as he saw the teasing look in your eyes.

“Think you can play with me after all that’s happened today? Watching all those men stare like you’re a piece of meat? You do this after I licked your pretty cunt? No, Bonnie, your going to take my cock like a good obedient princess.”

You didn’t have time to teasingly retaliate, instead you could only gasp as his head slid unforgivably into your heat, a low moan leaving the both of you at the joining. His hands guided your hips, until all of him was sunk around your fluttering walls. He paused, glancing up to see if you were alright.

“I can’t help their stares, I did-” his finger found your lips, pausing your words.

“Don’t speak of them when your full of my cock, eh?”

You couldn’t help but nod, rolling your hips against him in a slow way that mimicked the words “yes I understand. Only you can see me like this.”

“Good.” He aired, his hands once again finding your hips as he roughly guided you against his own bucking hips, starting a fast pace that had your eyes fluttering shut and soft coos leaving your mouth involuntarily.

“That’s it, princess.” He praised, a hand leaving your hip to play with your breasts that threatened to spill out from your undone corset. His palm squeezed the sensitive flesh, sending shockwaves down your skin and goosebumps to rise in ecstasy.

You picked up speed, now rising inches off the straw covered ground before slamming back down upon his length. He cursed, adam’s apple bobbing as his tip met the start of your womb. A ravishing hunger filled your very souls, only satisfied by your intertwined touch and the sound of squelching skin.

He gripped you harder, his climax drawling to a burning close. You felt the all familiar tightening again, knowing that John would only stop fucking you until you finished around his swollen cock.

“You going to cum for me, princess?” He growled, hand falling under your skirts to draw slow circles upon your puffy clit with his calloused thumb.

“Yes!” His circling thumb pushed you over the edge, along with the deep and ruthless plunges of his cock, your eyes fluttered shut, just as your vision blurred from pure ecstasy. Your knight clenched his teeth, but could hardly contain his whine as he plowed deeply, spilling into you warmly.

Together the two of you heaved, lost in each other and not wanting to break your intertwined hold quite yet. You settled, bringing a palm to John’s sweaty cheek as his eyes fluttered shut.

“I love you.” You whispered, stroking the skin in all the passion you could muster.

“Well…. Isn’t this sweet?” A shadow hissed into the night, startling the two of you as you struggled to get up off of your knight in horrified shock.

Before you could separate your hold, your hair was tugged from behind, forcing you to stand and whimper at the fiery hold. Your knight struggled to stand, hastily making himself decent before scanning for a weapon. Except it was too late.

A dagger pressed coldly to your flaming jugular, halting John in place as he glared holes into your captor. You glanced downward, noticing the hand had familiar jeweled rings upon his digits.

Graves.

Bile threatened to expel as John attempted to step forward, until the dagger drew blood and the sharp sting made a lone tear fall down your cheek.

“Ah, ah. Stay where you are, or I kill the whore.” Graves threatened, holding his ground and forcing John to stay planted where he was.

King Graves tutted, a disappointed clicking noise that traveled from his chest to your back in vibrations.

“I always figured you were a whore, had the looks of one. But with your knight…” he laughed, no humor behind his tone as John switched between glaring and panic between the two of you. “You’ve just handed me another kingdom on a golden platter. Once the King knows of this scandal your knight will be hung, and you will be cast out as a whore, unfit for any royalty. That will leave the Kingdom to me, after I kill your worthless father.” Graves growled, a playful lit to his voice as you silently cried.

“Don’t cry….” Graves cooed heartlessly, pressing himself into you with a dull hunger. Your knight growled, eyes darkening as he could only helplessly watch.

All at once, you felt the shallow cut of the blade as a dull shrunk came from behind you, you leant forward at the lack of pressure, knowing you were no longer held captive as John rushed to your side, examining you for any horrific injuries.

You could only turn and watch as Graves’ body fell to the ground, a shrouded figure holding a knife shadowed the area, another person standing close to him as well. One wore a signature mask pulled up to his lips, the other was flushed a pink color, much like you had been before.

König and Horangi.

They had saved you.

“Go. Before your father sends out hounds looking for you.” Horangi spoke, voice airy as he subtly placed a hand upon König’s waist. Huh. Maybe they wouldn’t be so devastated as to not have your hand in marriage.

Tears welled in your eyes as realization set in. You were really doing this, really running away from all the blasphemy that was royalty. You could be free, could be with your John as you always hoped. It would be hard, but your mind was settled the moment you kissed your knight for the first time.

“Thank you.”

A steel knife sliced its way across stew vegetables. It was amateur chopping at best, but you’ve been practicing for the oncoming winter.

With a hum, you moved to place the potatoes into your pot of boiling cream. The fire burned comfortably in the small cottage made by hand. Stones were masoned expertly to create a fireplace, among with the strong boards of Oak to keep out the salty sprays from the sea.

The door opened with a creak, cold air blowing into the homey space in frozen waves. You suppressed a shiver, but felt warm at the sight of your husband.

He held a stack of firewood in his arms, biceps bulging as he placed the logs down into the crate next to the flames. He shook from the cold, but it seemed he was already warmer as his crystalline eyes locked with yours. It had been two days since he had left for a hunt, the longest you’ve gone without seeing him as of late.

John was growing nervous as the days grew shorter. With the shortening days, came the higher probability of giving birth.

“How are ye’, flower?” Your husband asked eyes falling to your swollen belly with so much love that your face couldn’t help but break out into a smile.

“I say we are better now that you are home.”

John laughed heartily, the sound booming through the whole cottage as he hugged his family close to him.

#cod #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #call of duty #soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #john soap MacTavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish

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ettelenethelien · 3 days

Text

Poor decisions you might want to consider making:

Swear an oath that will doubtlessly result in your becoming a cautionary tale against rash vows

Invent mass murder

Invent break-ins

Actually follow in the footsteps of your greatest enemy who invented break-ins and murdered your father

Leave half your army on the other side of the continent because you quarelled with your brother

Overcharge and die

Get on the Murder Death Ice

Try to cross the Murder Death Ice

Cover for mass murderers in front of a goddess or something

It was your cousins that were murdered

It is your great-uncle that finds out

Challenge a dark lord to single combat

Ask your prospective son in law for a Shiny Murder Rock

Think kidnapping a princess is a good way to conduct diplomacy

Never mind that the last time someone asked for her hand her father almost killed him

Accidentally chase someone off a cliff

Run off because it was not wholly an accident and join a group of amoral outlaws

Refuse to return after your best friend has cleared everything up for you with the king

Kill your best friend

This time it really was an accident

Destroy a city

Really and truly an accident

Get killed over some jewelry because you were racist

Get killed over some jewelry

Get killed over the same piece of jewelry

Be an author and apologize that everyone died at the end of your book

#my post #Silmarillion #silm #tolkien #sons of Fëanor #Fëanor #Galadriel #Thingol

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missglaskin · 6 months

Note

In some way I see Sor Criston as having a Madonna–whore complex, which (in a hypotetic situation where he can get married without having to run away to Essos) would make his wife's situation a hell. He's totally the kind to view her as someone who should stay at home and raise their (many) children. Like he's the type to view it as her role in life, and in some way he may deny it at the start of the relationship, but the more it lasts the more he's pushing her to basically be his housewife.

Note-timeline is a bit different and don't worry reader is aged up since she's nyra's (adopted sister)

It would undoubtedly happen to a princess!reader in this scenario. Maybe she's Rhaenyra's younger (and adopted) sister; as the second, she has nothing to inherit and little to do but marry some lord.

Naive and wide-eyed, she finds herself utterly captivated by the knight pledged to accompany and protect her wherever she goes. Unaware of the depths of his longing, remaining oblivious to the spark she ignited within from the moment he first laid eyes on her at the tournament. With the honor of a kingsguard bestowed upon him by Rhaenyra; it only intensified his desires. Yearning to feel the smoothness of her skin beneath his fingertips, to trace the corners of her lips.

One fateful night, he found himself succumbing to his desires, bedding the princess. She was no longer a maiden and he, in turn, broke his kingsguard oath. Desperate to some way redeem himself, he pleaded with her to leave. To go to Essos and become his wife, blissfully unaware of the fate that awaited her.

For a princess accustomed to a life surrounded by servants who did her every bidding. No longer did she have the luxury of being awakened, having those dress her, having all the fruits and sweats to pick from. Instead, she’s thrusted in an unknown world, scrubbing the floors, washing the dishes, rinsing the clothes. Chore after chore, that was her life now. All that with a baby on her hip.

No longer did she wear those lavish dresses or the gold-adorned jewelry, forced by circumstances to sell them. She was once vibrant and unfettered, but now she found herself confined by invisible chains; Criston’s words echosed in her ears; to be a dutiful wife and mother. It was already a duty ingrained in her days when she was a princess and now one that overshadows her remaining days.

But there come days where she yearns for the court, the familiar faces of her father and sister. There were days when it all became too much for her, where she cries and screams for him to let her just go home. In those moments, at times Criston responds with anger, accusing her of being ungrateful for the sacrifices that he too had to make. And at times, Criston would take her in his arms, keeping her trembling body in place as he reminded her once more that this was her home; with him and their children. This is where she belonged. This was her life now.

#yandere concept #yandere hotd #yandere house of the dragon #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #criston cole x reader

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lazyjellyfish300 · 6 months

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In a vial around your pretty little neck📿🍷

AFAB Reader x Miguel O'Hara

*image not mine, from Pinterest, credit to original owner, if you are the owner let me know and I can credit you or delete*

TW: MINORS DNI, BLOOD, NEEDLE DRAWING BLOOD, SUGGESTIVE SEXUAL CONTENT

Synopsis: you and Miguel are dating. You two want to kick your outward display of devotion to each other up a notch. Your idea: wearing jewelry containing each other's blood.

The Valentine's Day spinoff I posted as a continuation of your relationship

A/N: More Miguel bc the brain rot is real lol 🧛🏾

----------------

You two laid together in the dark at his place (practically yours by now too), the 3 am traffic quietly humming below. You and Miguel had been dating for a year. One passionate, lustful, magical, sex-crazed year. You two went out for hibachi tonight and it wasn't long after that until your brand new dress and heels decorated his bedroom floor.

"Happy Anniversary," he whispered, planting a kiss into your temple.

"Mmmm..." you rolled over, draping your bare figure over his, which caused him to groan and grab you around the back of your neck to pull you in for another kiss. He was about to drift off but he didn't mind losing another 30 minutes to finish what you were starting...

You had something of an interest in the macabre. You had a little emo phase in junior high growing up and dark things like horror and true crime interested you. You loved Tim Burton and Edgar Allan Poe and Halloween was your favorite holiday.

You were also big into Twilight at one point and now that you were dating a guy with fangs it was like your ultimate vampire fantasy come true. You weren't a full blown goth, but while you were scrolling on your phone the other day, you came across an idea that seemed so edgy yet irresistible and sexy.

This fiery relationship you started with Miguel made you feel different. You felt alive and liberated and emboldened to try new things. And it filtered into your physical relationship with one another and he was not complaining one bit. Not at ALL. He never had a partner like you who made him feel so fulfilled and satiated. You made him feel like a man.

"I want a symbol of your devotion," you said breathlessly as he kissed your neck.

"Hmmm.." he paused, sucking a little on one spot, causing you to quiver as the skin turned splotchy red. "What did you have in mind?" He said in a sleepy voice.

"Jewelry..." you started but then evolved into a high pitched gasp as you felt his lips.

Miguel laughed into your skin. "I should've known you'd say that."He sighed and stroked your hair behind your ear.

"It's kind of a crazy idea, just bear with me."

Miguel smiled. "So far I've loved all your ideas. I'm listening."

You look at him with a smile as though you're planning something diabolical. "Blood jewelry."

When you saw Miguel's expression turn skeptical, you giggled.

"Hear me out. Remember how Billy Bob Thornton and Angelina Jolie wore vials of each other's blood when they were together? I wanna do that with you. We can find someone professional to do it and get our blood drawn together. I know it sounds weird and freaky but wouldn't that be so hot? Imagine me walking around with a necklace with your blood in it at all times. "

"Isn't that kind of superstitious?" He smirked. "That seems like something a really sexually charged couple would do at the peak of their romance only for it to fizzle out. I wouldn't want to inadvertently put a curse on this amazing thing we have going."

"Haha it's not witchcraft, babe! I just wanted something unique. I want something of you wherever I go. And I know we're not ready for marriage just yet. But I am committed to you. A hundred percent. People used to do blood oaths to signify the deepest sacrifice and devotion."

"Like the Mafia?"

You burst out laughing. "Babe, we're NOT in the Mafia. Just deeply in love until we take that next step someday when we're both ready..."

Miguel's face softened as you went on with your explanation and realized you were serious. His heart skipped a beat and his face grew warm. He traced your collarbone with his finger.

"Yeah? You'd want my blood to wear around your neck? And I could have the same from you?..."

You nodded looking into his crimson eyes, eager for an answer.

Miguel scoffed and shook his head. "Baby, you are crazy...."

He pressed his lips to yours. "But that's why I love you."

You break into a smile "Is, that a yes?"

"Mhmmm.." Miguel sighed, then looked down at you, draping an arm around your midriff. "Let me handle the lab side of things. I'll ask one of the technicians at my work to do it because if we're really doing this, we're doing it right. I'm NOT going to let us catch a disease on account of your insane little idea," he pressed the tip of your nose with this finger playfully.

"Coming from the guy with literal fangs!" You teasingly squish one of the spare pillows into his face. "I thought you'd be into blood."

Miguel removes the pillow from his face, definitely fully awake now. "They're paralyzing fangs, sweetheart. I inject venom. I don't suck people's blood."

He suddenly pounces on you causing you to squeal excitedly. "You're gonna pay for that."

"Oh yeah?" You smile up at him biting your lip, running your hands along his biceps as he cages you in underneath him. "How's that?"

"You're not walking tomorrow."

Your last train of thought vacated your mind as he fucked you into oblivion.

---------few days later---------

You sat nervously in Miguel's lab at HQ, clicking one of his pens over and over. You were waiting for his lab tech to do the blood draw. Miguel chose a signet ring to wear on his left pinky with your blood in the center stone, and you chose a necklace with a tiny, heart shaped bottle pendant to contain his blood.

Miguel walked over to you, squatting down to your level as you remained sitting on a lab stool, running his large hands along your thighs. "Nervous already?" He asked with a half smile.

"Is it a bad time to admit I don't like needles?"

Miguel laughed. "How on Earth did you survive getting all your tattoos then?" He ran a hand along your thigh piece that was poking out from under your skirt.

"That's different, mister. Tattoo needle pain is way more tolerable than medical needle pain."

Miguel shook his head. "That makes zero sense."

"You wouldn't know!" You scoff.

Miguel chuckled and then kissed your forehead. "I'll hold your hand, babe. Don't worry. If you want, we don't have to do this."

You smile and close your eyes as you feel him kiss your forehead and wrap your arms around him as he lays his head in your lap. "Thanks babe. I'm not backing out now though."

The lab tech walks in carrying a small phlebotomy tray. She's a short, slight woman named Trish who looks to be in her 40s with a blond pixie cut, almost like Tinkerbell.

"Who's first?" She asks with a grin. This was the first ever blood draw she's done for a couple wanting to wear it as a sign of devotion, but hey, she's not judging you two for your kinks. When Miguel offered her extra OT to come in on her day off, she happily obliged.

Miguel noted your nervous expression and rolled up the sleeve of his crew neck sweater first.

His blood draw was quick and easy. His face in the same stoic expression the whole time. He had to inject himself with Rapture on a daily basis so needles were no big deal to him.

He gave you an encouraging smile as he rolled his sleeve back down covering his teal bandage.

You felt your insides liquify as Trish walked over to you and wrapped the orange tourniquet tightly around your arm. Miguel squeezed your thigh harder and reached over and took your free hand in his.

"Look at me, don't look at the needle," he muttered.

You gulped and looked at him, staring into his eyes and he gave your thigh another sympathetic squeeze. You kept staring at him, trying to focus on his dreamy face. His sculpted brows, bold cheekbones, his chiseled jaw, his Adam's apple. He was easy on the eyes for sure.

God am I lucky you thought. Then your stomach fell as he pressed his lips tightly into the back of your hand, bracing you for the pain, and you felt that uncomfortable tight pinch as the needle punctured the sensitive skin in the crook of your arm and entered your vein.

You sucked in air between your teeth, gritting them together.

"Sorry, hun..." Trish says.

Miguel's eyes find yours, his lips still buried in the back of your hand, his free hand still gripping your thigh, giving you little pulses of encouragement as the blood began to collect in the vial.

As you focus on him and his face you never got tired of looking at, suddenly you felt a weird twinge of arousal staring low in your belly, combined with the pinch and discomfort of the needle in your other arm. You willed your body to release itself into the sensation, suddenly your cheeks get hot, electricity rushing to your crotch. You take a deep breath in, your breasts heaving slowly, causing the exposed round tops of your cleavage to push against your black knit top, causing the tip of the fabric to recede downward ever so slightly.

Miguel knows you well by now and notices how your demeanor shifts when you're getting turned on. He stops pressing his lips so hard on the back of your hand and begins to soften. He slowly raises his head, dragging his lips against the back of your hand, his bottom lip catches on your skin, slowly pulling it down, exposing the bottom row of his teeth.

You look at him and gently cock your head to the side, your lips parting slightly as you take another deep breath in.

Miguel's jaw tenses when he realizes your body and mind are going exactly where he thinks they are going.

"Fuck." He mouths to you. His eyes hungry as they focus on your bulging breasts trying to spring themselves free from your slutty black top. The vein in his forearm protrudes as he clenches his fist.

"All done." Trish removes the needle and begins wrapping you with a matching teal bandage. You sigh with relief and then let out a quiet wince as Miguel's hand on your thigh closes around it even tighter than before , knuckles turning white, giving you a small preview of the pent up lust he plans to unleash on you on top of this lab table as soon as Trish is gone.

Trish adds the anti-coagulant to the samples and gives them a little shake. She gives you two the run down on proper storage for the blood and wishes you luck and shuffles out the door.

As she walks away, she hears the door to the lab click shut but quickly claps a hand across her mouth to stifle a laugh and speeds even faster down the hallway as the sound of your moans and Miguel's grunts begin to emerge from the other side.

------------

You and Miguel shakily emerge from the lab an hour later. He lets you lean on him for balance as you walk with a slight limp. He smiles devilishly down at you.

"Amor, you took it so well."

You scoff and look up at him as you both continue to walk, pouting your lips indicating you want a kiss from him. He gives you a tender peck.

"Hopefully Trish didn't hear," you say.

Miguel laughs. "I mean, you were absolutely incredible taking me that way," he winks. "But I was referring to the blood draw. I'm proud of you for facing your fear. "

You smile and bob your head. "Yeah, well, yanno, you being there made it a lot easier. Turns out I might actually have a thing for needles."

Miguel inhales sharply, simultaneously pulling you into him from the back, your ass pressing into his front, and he bites the top of your ear.

"Don't, get me riled up again."

You giggle at his bite and wiggle out of his hold, interlocking your fingers once again as you two stroll to his car.

The rest of the afternoon, Miguel reluctantly buys you coffee after you gave him the puppy dog eyes on your way to the blood jeweler you guys are hiring to make the necklace and ring. The corner of his mouth raises slightly as he sees you happily sipping your overly sweet frappuccino and munching on your egg bites in the passenger seat and he shakes his head as he takes a sip of his black Americano.

He nuzzles his chin in the back of your head as you two wait at the the jeweler's, as you point excitedly to the rings you'd like one day for your engagement ring in the glass display cases.

"This one, no wait I like that one too..agh, okay maybe more so this one actually...yeah that one's my new fav..."

He takes silent mental notes of each design, pressing a kiss into your hair once more.

------

A few weeks later, your jewelry is ready for pick up. You and Miguel walk out of the jeweler's again with two sleek black boxes. He snatches your box away from you, a smug look on his face at your disappointed, cute pout as he tells you he's going to present you with it properly tonight at dinner.

You sat on a barstool with your face in your hands as you watched Miguel cook you your requested meal of the evening: Pasta Pomodoro.

He kicked you out of the kitchen this time because he knows you can't resist scoooching past him long enough to tease him with your hips before he'd have you on the kitchen island, banging you senseless, and then the sauce would be burned and ruined.

You hummed in approval as you stuck one of the red sauce coated rigatonis in your mouth, savoring the taste of the fresh warm tomato sauce, garlic and basil as the hot pasta warmed your belly.

"You outdid yourself tonight babe. My compliments to the chef." Your mouth made a "mwah" sound as you did a chef's kiss motion with your hand.

Miguel smiled warmly at you as he took a swig of his wine. "Thank you, babe. Should we give each other what you've been begging me for all afternoon?"

You smiled and rubbed your hands together quickly "It's about damn time."

"You are SO dramatic." Miguel pressed a kiss into your forehead as he knelt in front of you holding the small black velvet box containing the necklace. Suddenly you felt butterflies in your stomach as he opened the box gingerly, pulling the necklace out of it, dangling it before your eyes, the glint from the silver stopper of the glass vial gave a slight twinkle as the light from the kitchen ceiling hit against it. The glass vial was filled with the dark red liquid. The blood that once flowed through the vein in Miguel's arm contained in the small heart shaped vial.

"My love..." He said, holding your hand, the necklace still dangling in his other hand. "I wrote a few words I wanted to say when I gave you this." He pulled out a small folded piece of paper from his shirt's breast pocket.

"Amor, I have too much I want to say. But I'll try to keep this as short as I can. You have changed my life for the better. When I lost Gabi I-"

His voice cracked. His Adam's apple raised as he was surprised at the sudden emotion his body gave him in response to his words.

"I thought I would never be happy again. But then you came into my life. Those beautiful eyes looking at me over the rim of a mug in the coffee shop where we met. You lit a fire under me that I never want to put out. Your eyes are a warm spell I never wish to be cured of. Your arms are a haven in which I wish to take up permanent residence. Your body is my altar I want to forever worship. Your laugh is a melody I never want to stop listening to."

"I know we plan to pledge ourselves to each other one day as husband and wife, but for now, I'll give you this part of me, as a sign of my devotion. My blood in this pendant that once ran through my vein, kept me alive. You, mí vida, you now keep my love alive. Remember what once belonged to me, now belongs to you for good."

Your eyes glisten with tears as he presses a soft kiss into your neck and traces a finger across the back of it, moving your hair out of the way. The metal from the chain tickles your neck and the vial with Miguel's blood is slightly cold as it rests in the middle of your chest. His blood resting above your heart.

You wipe your eyes and open the velvet box containing his ring. You hold the golden signet in your fingers, the middle of it a dark red with your blood. Miguel's handsome face looks into yours and presses a kiss into your palm to calm your nerves as you pledge your love to him.

"Miguel, I'm so lucky to have you. You're more than I could ever ask for. You're funny (when you want to be), and I wanna jump your bones every time I look at you...."

Miguel's cheeks turn pink and he shakes his head, chuckling as he presses another kiss into your hand.

"...But your soul is what I've fallen hopelessly in love with. You've captured my heart and I never want it to be freed. Your mind, your intelligence, your thoughts and the very essence of who you are is something I've found in no other and I don't wish to seek it anywhere else."

I present you this ring as a sign of my undying love and loyalty to you. I can't properly repay you for all you've given to me, so I'll give you something that used to be a part of me. This blood in this ring once flowed through my heart, and now I ask you to wear it on your hand and know that you are never far from me, my love."

His eyes are glossy with tears as you slip it on his left pinky and he can't hold back as he kisses you desperately, cupping your face with his hands. He pulls back after a few moments to study you, his crimson eyes running along your features and he runs a thumb tenderly along your cheeks.

"This is the best night of my life." He whispers as he presses his forehead to yours.

"I don't know about you, but I want dessert..." You whisper back, fiddling with the top button on his shirt.

"Ohhh....mí vida, you're getting it now." He presses a canine into his bottom lip and swoops you up in his arms in one motion, not tearing his face away from yours as he takes you to his room, dirty dishes and the half-drunk wine on the table be damned.

"Everything comes off, except this...." He takes the vial of your necklace in between his fingers.

You smile and kiss his lips again before returning your attention to taking off your blouse.

"I adore you."

"Mí vida, I adore you most of all."

The rest of the night is slow, sensual, orgasmic bliss as your bodies practically devour one another. Your blood sealed in the ring on his pinky and his blood sealed away in a vial around your pretty little neck..

#Spotify #miguel o'hara #fanfic #miguel x reader #miguel atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara #romance #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o hara fluff #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara x fem!reader #miguel o hara x you

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thesummerestsolstice · 2 months

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Unwritten Fics game

I was tagged by @runawaymun to talk about all my as-of-yet unwritten fic ideas! I have many, many of them. Here are a few. Feel free to send me asks about any of them, or to tell me which ones you'd most like to read in the tags!

Earendil-drinks-the-Silmail-AU: see Tumblr post here. Elwing gives Earendil the Silmaril's light to try and heal him from an illness, and both he (and later E&E) now have the light of the Silmaril within them. This causes problems for the Oath of Feanor. Can't decide whether to make it serious and heartbreaking or extremely silly.

Immortal Elros AU: definitely need to post about this one. In which Elros sees the mortals who will become the people of Numenor, loves them, and decides the best way to help them is to be immortal, to protect their descendants and maintain their legacy long after they're gone. He becomes Numenor's beloved guardian, caring for it's people for centuries. This all goes pretty well until Tar-Mairon shows up on the island.

Faustian Bargain AU: when both Gil-Galad and Celebrimbor are captured during Eregion's fall, Elrond makes a dangerous deal with Sauron to get them back. In exchange for their release, Elrond offers to become Sauron's captive, and to help him in his efforts to reach the Void and free Morgoth. Elrond, of course, has other plans. So do the now-free (and incredibly worried) Gil Galad and Celebrimbor.

Unexpected Problems: see Tumblr posts here and here. All about the issues Elrond runs into in Valinor– from people debating about whether or not he counts as an Ainur to Noldor being scandalized that he only wears a couple pounds of jewelry. Also his repeated attempts to stop Galadriel and Bilbo from completely destroying Valinorian society.

The Love of a Parent: Elrond's parents continue to look out for him, whether from beyond the circles of the world or from the stars above. Probably largely outsider POV. A chance for more eldritchry.

On Estel: In which Earendil goes into the void, searching for Maeglin's lost spirit. Slight AU in the sense that it's very Maeglin sympathetic, and has him having a good familial relationship with Turgon, Idril, and Earendil.

Ten Little Soldier Boys: my take on who Finrod's faithful ten were, why they were so loyal, and the moments they each decided they would give anything to keep Finrod safe. OC heavy but very dear to my heart.

Misfits, Outcasts, and other Characters of Ill-Repute: a series of oneshots about the various people who end up in Rivendell and how they got there. Includes canon characters (Glorfindel, Erestor, Lindir, etc.) and some OCs (including an old Feanorian diehard and one of Thingol's bodyguards, and, of course, Garthaglir the Library Orc)

No pressure, but I'm going to second Runawaymun's tagging of @jaz-the-bard (I don't think they've done the game yet but I might've missed it on their blog)

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scriptorsapiens · 8 months

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Classicstober Day 14: Helen (𐀁𐀩𐀛/𒄭𒇷𒉌)

Helen of Troy… Helen Queen of Sparta… Helen Princess of Sparta… Helen the daughter of Leda and Zeus… the face that launched a thousand ships wore many masks over the course of her life but one thing that remains the same is how compelling she remains as a character. Many thanks to @symeona for helping me with her look!

Helen is a character intrinsically associated with her appearance, but early sources do not describe her at all outside of demonstrations of her status. For this piece, I have borrowed from two sources. The first is symeona, who's excellent translations on Ancient Greek color theory informed my take on Achilles. The second was that wretched and accursed fnckboy Ovid, who described Helen's mother Leda as having 'snowy white' skin and black hair. Since Zeus appeared to Leda in the form of a swan, and considering how pale Leda was, I decided to make her somewhat swan-like in appearance, with big black eyes and naturally ruddy lips to seal the deal.

First, let's talk about Helen the Spartan (rendered here in Linear B as 'Eleni of Laconia'). Despite mainly being known for her role in the Trojan War, Helen lived the majority of her life in Sparta and her husband Menelaus claimed the throne of Sparta through her. Laconia and Sparta are some of the oldest sites of Mycenaean culture, so Helen got to be depicted as Mycenaean as all getout. The high-piled hair, the diadem, the open tunic, and the bracelet are all very common in depictions of Mycenaean and Minoan women. She also has very elaborate florets to mark her status. The red fabric and large gemstones mark her wealth too i completely forgot to draw in the necklace she wore in the sketch version.

I mentioned before in my picture of Cassandra and Hector that I am basing the Trojan looks heavily on ancient Hittite clothing, and this is no exception. I know the movie Troy sucks for lots of reasons, but I did like that they made the Trojan theme color this very rich blue so I decided to add that here; dark, rich colors in general are very expensive to produce, so even if it's not red the saturation makes the cloth very expensive and a mark of royalty. I based her clothing and jewelry off a Hittite statue, but I decided to omit the tall hats that Hittite women appear to wear under their veils; I kind of wanted that to represent status, so only Andromache and Hecuba would wear the tall hats if I depict them.

I was not trying to make a commentary with it, but it does strike me how conservative the veiled, tunic wearing Hittite woman looks compared to the open-bodiced Mycenaean woman. That could easily be read into, but I'm just going to leave it as depiction and not try to ascribe any symbolism to it.

The decorative circle around Helen represents several things. Horses feature prominently in her life. The Trojan Horse is the most well known, but the wedding oath that Tyndareus made Helen's suitors swear to was sealed with the sacrifice of a horse too. Anemones are a sacred flower to Aphrodite (long story) and the white lilies seem like a fun way to evoke the 'pure woman' image.

Also in the circle are depictions of Eris' golden Apple of Discord. For the life of me, I could not find any translation related to fairness or beauty in any Mycenaean dictionaries so I had to cheat: "𐀴 𐀏𐀪𐀯𐀳𐀂/ti ka-ri-se-te-i" is just a phonetic transliteration of ΤΗΙ ΚΑΛΛΙΣΤΗΙ (tē(i) kallistē(i)), translated as 'for the fairest.'

#classicstober #classicstober2023 #classicstober23 #helen of troy #helen of sparta #greek mythology #ancient greek mythology #tagamemnon #linear b #mycenaean #hittite #hittite cuneiform #cuneiform

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jacevelaryonswife · 1 year

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Golden and Silver, my new colors | Part Seven

As a second son Aemond had to fight from an early age to conquer what he wanted, so the search for the forgiveness of his beautiful wife couldn’t be different.

∴pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Wife!reader

∴warnings and a note: fluffy and suggestive content; english is not my first language. 2,5k of words

golden and silver masterlist

It's funny how the course of things varies with time. Months ago you anxiously wished for your husband's love and haste, weeks ago you hated him with all your fury and a few days ago you accepted that your heart could forgive him. Aemond wasn’t only doing his duty as a husband, he was being everything you longed for him to be: kind, attentive and interested. Your husband was perfectly fulfilling the oath that wouldn’t be negligent again, from small gestures as gentle caresses on your back and hands as in quiet conversations throughout the days.

How are you feeling? Would you like something? How were the classes with the septã? What have you been reading? Did something happen?

And gradually you began to match him with the same questions.

How was the training? How is the food? How are you feeling?

He was genuinely fine with you.

As a second son Aemond had to fight from an early age to conquer what he wanted, so the search for the forgiveness of his beautiful wife couldn’t be different. He learned the most difficult way the consequences of an absent paternity and devalued motherhood, so why affect his own family in this? You deserved more than was emotionally offered. Therefore, in that mild late afternoon he decided to fulfill a previous promise and took you to your first love and conquest: Vhagar. In addition to stimulating the creation of the affective bond between you, Aemond thought it would be a good way to knock down some bricks of your barrier to allow your passage.

You wore a light golden dress for the occasion, which exhibited the growing prominence of your belly. Your hair was mostly loose with the exception of a simple hairstyle and some jewelry adorned your ears and neck. All the way there was a conscious heat in your stomach about what was about to happen, almost comforting — although anxious. Your husband was very incisive in questioning the Grand Maester Orwyle if the flight would not harm your health and pregnancy, being assured that a light flight wouldn’t harm your condition. It was a big step for your relationship and for him, you knew, but seeing him perform it warmed your heart. Although you didn’t share the same enthusiasm as your husband on the subject in question, you responded in a cordial and polite way — too cordial to go unnoticed.

"Are you nervous?" He asked.

You took a deep breath, looking at him before facing the ground. “A little bit.”

Aemond wasn’t common to physical touches, but he chose to lower the arm you squeezed to your waist and caress the swollen side of your belly. "There's nothing to fear while you're by my side, she feels what I feel."

"And what do you feel?" You asked softly, but expectantly.

Maybe that was the first time your beautiful husband displayed a genuine, restrained, but genuine and kind smile. "Good things," he said, making you reciprocate the soft stretching of lips.

"It's good to know."

Even there is a long distance, the great centenary figure became visible and intimidating. The tales used to be pleonastic most of the time, but you found that there was no exaggeration about the description of the colossal and aggressively imposing being. Another perception was the mild behavior of your husband, a great contrast to the usual stiffness of his closed jaw and intense eyes. He looked almost ethereal with his elegant posture and perfectly combed hair. Even though it was a sin, you thought it looked visually divine.

A meek roar drove away your daydreams and made you realize that you had arrived at your destination. Staying a few steps behind, you saw again a part of your husband's armor fall when you approached his mount and... caressed her?

“Uēpa riña, skorkydoso glaesā?” He said. Old girl, how are you? Unfortunately you weren’t knowledgeable of High Valyrian to understand what that meant. “Jaelan ao naejot rhaenagon mēre issaros.” I want you to meet one person. He took your hand and put it on the rough and rigid skin. “Bisa iksis ñuha ābrazȳrys.” That’s my lady wife.

It was the first time touching those beings... it was... unbelievable.

"What did you say?" You asked softly, delighted with the big animal in front of you — under your touch.

"I just introduced my beautiful wife," he said, taking your hand from his and landing on the small bud in your belly. "... when our baby is born I want a dragon egg in his or her crib." A trace of seriousness filled his tone and softened feature, visible in the intensity that your good eye looked at you.

His past was never an option to be approached because it was too painful and intimate, but you weren’t oblivious to what had happened, not when the evidence was quite clear.

“I appreciate it, but I wouldn't mind if he or she was as brave as the father and claimed his or her own,” you said, putting your hand on the left side of his face.

Another feeling flourished in his expressive look, which you didn’t know how to unravel, but kept your eyes attentively on his for the following moments. Even not knowing the feelings of others, you both thought that would be a good time for a passionate and kind kiss, it was enough for one of you to lean over and...

Vhagar's guttural roar announced that she was still there, making you laugh. "So, how do I get on that thing?"

"Don't call her a thing, it's impolite," he corrected you with humor.

Whatever it is...

"I believe it's more rude to you than to her," you replied as you took his hand to be carefully guided through the body of the big animal. The construction of nervousness was accentuated when you arrived in the saddle used by your husband. For the seven!

A satisfied and somewhat presumptuous smile was sketched by Aemond when he positioned himself in front of you. “Hold on tight, the sprint is turbulent,” he instructed.

"Where should I hold it?" You asked confused — afraid to touch him.

"In me, hold tight on my body."

Seven heavens...

You held his hips initially, but... but it seemed appropriate to lean to wrap him in an intimate hug and rest your head on his back. He always smelled good, there was no way to resist. And then, Vhagar started to take off the momentum and you've never felt so nauseous in your life with those movements. With eyes closed to focus on not vomiting you didn’t capture the transition between solid and volatile, opening your eyes when you were close to the clouds.

You were flying. You were flying!!

“Gods be good!” You laughed excited and incredulous.

"It's a beautiful view, isn't it?"

“Yes! It's.”

Your husband smiled satisfied. “That's just the beginning,”

After the start, the rest of the flight was smooth, but it still made your stomach float a few times. Aemond was perfectly fine flying with his beautiful wife in the largest dragon in the world. His dragon's blood naturally inflamed his veins, but at that moment your firm touch ardently ignited each contemplated part and fed a primitive and inappropriate carnal desire. Seven hells...

In addition to the running activity, Aemond planned to show you something else, which partially occupied his mind in place of inappropriate thoughts. But still...

No, stop!

Although the most beautiful fields were described in The Reach, the one-eyed prince had made a recent discovery in Riverlands (which was also not behind in soil fertility and native beauty) of a beautiful field of yellow flowers, and even better for being close to Kingslanding since wearing you out wasn’t an option.

Wearing you out...

May the Father have mercy on me.

“Can I quickly let go of my arms?” You asked.

“Take the test quickly with one arm and hold me tight with the other,” he instructed.

Oh! That exuded freedom! And it was as tasty as dornese meadwine!

It's been so long since you've left Red Keep, and even longer since something so fresh and soft ran through your body. It was so good. All the recent moments spent with Aemond were good and compensating.

At first, after your explosion on the night of the princess's ball, you thought it would be the end, but life likes to surprise us, doesn't it? Even your parents were surprising not to mention that you had danced with Rhaenyra Targaryen's heir. While the Queen... well, you didn't talk again as before.

They were promising weeks in general, however, you were afraid of facilitating his work in your mission to fix things, after all you were neglected for four months. But well... it's been a month since things changed, so... No! Stop ruining the day!

Unfortunately that feeling lasted longer than you wanted, making you distract you from the reduction of speed and the beginning of the fallow. Until you realized the beautiful yellow flowers arranged as far as the horizon allowed. You couldn't believe it. You had never seen such beauty before — besides your chic dresses and set of diamonds earrings.

Aemond went down first, taking your hand to guide you carefully to the ground.

“Aemond... it's beautiful, it's so beautiful, I can't believe it!” Your emotional eyes were bathed in the orange rays of the sunset. You were radiant and more beautiful than ever.

“Yes It's. It's a beautiful view."

Again, Aemond wasn’t common to physical affection, but he didn’t restrained himself by wrapping you in a hug from behind and touching your belly, smiling when you returned the comfort. "I really appreciate this and everything you're doing these days."

"That's all for you. For both of you. For my beautiful wife and my future family,” he said, breathing his addictive smell.

Your steps were slow and delicate so as not to damage the flowers, following the prince's side as he passed his hand on each vibrant petal. You've never felt so alive before; so full of color and calm down. The velvety texture of the flowers and the refreshing breeze were sweet additions to your happiness. And then, the words started to come out before you could control it.

"You know... before... the day I fainted I had talked to Princess Rhaenyra about pregnancy," you began, "not that I thought it was easy. It started when I thought I would be alone throughout the process. She said things got easy with support, with the right people. And I just... I didn't want to be alone; I don't want to be alone while I go through this, it's confusing, I feel tired and my mood varies so much and I just... I don't want to be alone. I don't want to do this alone."

How he hated himself for hearing that.

Aemond stopped in front of you and held your face, determined to solve all the doubts you might have about him.

“Listen to me. It took me a long time to realize what I had done. My relationship with my father was never good, not when he always favored his first daughter... not when nothing happened when I lost my eye, not when my mother begged for justice," he could not let you believe that he would be alone, "and unfortunately I let the result of that splash on you, because I underestimated you and was not ready for our union, but you made and I regret letting things get where they are, I really regret it, so I assure you with everything I have that I won't leave you alone again."

That was the first time he confessed such intimacy to someone. And he doesn't regret at all releasing such a burden from his chest — neither do you.

"I'm sorry for what happened," you said, copying the position of his hands, "you were just a boy, you didn't deserve it," your thumb traced the perimeter of your scar, "you’re a man dedicated to your studies and training, well-behaved and intelligent, much more than the King could see. And... I know it's not appropriate for the moment, but you're a very handsome man too," you whispered the last part, making you gasp. He wouldn't expect to hear that in a sincere tone.

"Do you see all these qualities in me?" His voice was small.

“Yes, I do.”

Fuck the appropriate.

He leaned with determination to capture your lips in a kiss never before shared between you, full of love and wish, without fear or estrangement, just a soft contact between mouths. He sucked all the air out of your lungs with the initiative and execution, making you hold his jaw while moving your lips slowly (a little clumsy) and intensely.

He circled your waist when he deepened the kiss, approaching your body with tenderness and care.

“Aemond...” you broke a kiss with an enchanted sigh and bright smile, floating around him like a cloud. You have never shared such a passionate kiss before and never in such a beautiful place.

“My beautiful wife,” he closed his eye and leaned his head against your own.

✩。:*•. ──── ❁ ❁ ────. •*:。 ✩

"Have you ever thought of names?" He asked on your way to your shared cameras.

"I thought of some. For a son I thought of Aelor or Aemon, for a daughter I would like Daella or Aelora," you replied, being very comfortable with your head rested against his arm.

“Hm,” he buzzed attentively as he analyzed the options. “No Aegon?”

“I believe this family has enough Aegons,” you were quick to say.

Aemond laughed silently and opened the door for you, watching your body rest against the mattress.

God, you couldn't imagine how much worse your tiredness would be as your belly got bigger and rounder. Your grunt caught the attention of the prince, who directed a watchful eye in his direction.

"Is everything okay?" He asked.

"Yes, I'm just tired," you closed your eyes when your back sank into the pillow, "and I need a good shower."

“I'll arrange it. Do you need anything else?"

"... no, I don't."

He walked to the edge of the bed and sat next to you, touching your belly lightly. It was highly inappropriate for the moment, but it wasn’t something he wanted to keep hiding from you.

"I... I know we didn't have fruitful nights of... you know, intimacy. But I have to say…I need to confess and take it off my shoulders," he began, holding your thigh with his other hand and sending a heat wave to your femininity, "I can't stop thinking about us... in intimate situations."

Seven hells... he wanted to say... copulating?

"I can't stop thinking about having you," he added, "when you're rested on another day, I... would you like to join me in bed?"

Gods be good! Your whole body formed with revelation, a hitherto unknown need bloomed in your shells and your interior squeezed subtly.

"Husband... I..." you didn't expect this, but the warm feeling of his hand on your thigh along with the intense look he watched you fed his courage to say: "do you want to show me the fire of the dragon?"

He took a deep breath and felt his member squirm. "Yes, I want to.”

——————————————————

Well, we are in the final stretch of the story (I still don't know how many chapters are left) and I would like to thank in advance each of you who has been following the course of the story!

taglist: @immyowndefender @arcielee @malfoytargaryen @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @fan-goddess @dark-night-sky-99 @siriusdumblittlepuppy @let-love-bleeds-red @sassysaxsolo @cicaspair418 @yentroucnagol @mefools @risefallrise @auratiqs @glitterandgoldfinds @bellaisasleep @plzletmedaydream @padfooteyes @bellameshipper @zillahvathek @schniiipsel @little-duck @dc-marvel-girl96 @nina2697 @kaemond-zafiro @the-hufflebird-girl @panagiasikelia @whatsonthemirror @namgification @minttea07 @crazymusicgirl104 @sahvlren @aemonds-fire @partypoison00 @glame

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond x you #prince aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #prince aemond #aemond x wife reader #golden and silver masterlist #golden and silver #golden and silver my new colors

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redbleedingrose · 7 months

Note

i think eris collects fancy wine and lucien has a lot of old maps what do u think

Oh, I have been waiting all DAY for someone to send me an ask about my favorite Vanserra bro’s! I am so excited tehehhe!!

Hobbies for the Vanserra Bro’s

Eris Vanserra

Okay, starting with the love of my LIFE!!!

He is a master of all trades tbh. He has so many hobbies, especially once Beron goes bye bye LMAO. He has so much more free time, he was already practically running the Autumn Court, even when Beron was alive. But now, without the added stress of his father, he is trying to explore all different avenues for hobbies, especially when you can join him.

He absolutely collects fancy wines. I think Er is a collector in general. He likes collecting wines that you both can share after a long day of hard work, he likes to collect unique and rare editions of his favorite books that he can display in the library he built for you, he likes collecting rocks and geodes and seashells that he will use as decorations in Marwa and Twila’s nursery. When they are born, Eris becomes a collector of all things for his favorite babes. He collects dresses and jewelry that they will use when they are older, he loves collecting shoes and handbags for them. Eventually, a new wing to your home is added just so he can store all of things he has collected over the years for them that they have unlimited access to. I also think Er would collect children’s stories and books for them, he loves encouraging them to learn and grow into smart, young ladies. He absolutely expands the library for them, creating a little play space for them along with hundreds, if not thousands of books that all belong to them.

I also think Eris would become involved with creating DV shelters. He would absolutely love being involved in foundations and charities that specialize in helping women get away from their ab*sers, and building a new life for themselves. He has created a whole new job sector for these women, and often finds himself visiting these shelters so that he can help the older ladies running the home cook and clean. You can picture him in his apron, scrubbing away at the tile with furrowed brows trying to get the grout out. He would also bring his pups to the shelters so that they can play with the ladies and the children.

While Beron was alive, he did have a secret hobby that only you know of. One that you and him will take to the grave. One that was the reason for your first oathe to him, the reason that you have a tattoo that matches his on your left forearm.

Tehe.

You know those smutty books that Nesta reads?

Yeah…… He ghost wrote those.

Don’t ask questions, but he did.

The poor male had to express himself and his desire for you somehow.

Anyway, only you and him know that he is Prythian’s best selling romance author. And thats the way its going to stay.

That secret follows you both to the grave.

Oh and Eris is for sure an animals rights activist. He loves his horses and his pups so much, even though he will never admit it, but he has spent a lot of time creating laws that provide protections for endangered species and animal rights in general. He has limited hunting grounds in Autumn Court to allow for safe areas for animas to roam and exist freely. He absolutely tries to convince you to move onto a farm with him. He wants so many animals on that farm, he wants pigs and goats, dogs and cats, horses and cows. He also really loves the idea of having chickens.

One day you will give in from his incessant begging.

Not today, but one day.

Lucien Vanserra

Lucien is also a collector, just like his older brother. He absolutely collects old maps. He also collects coins that he finds on the ground, claiming they are lucky, and he also collects stamps from different courts, using them to depict his travels and act as an homage to his journey through life that lead to finding you. I think Loosh also collects art and pottery, and I know he himself, has dipped into the talent of pottery as a hobby. Even if all of his vases are a little crooked and his mugs are kinda cracked and a janky orange color.

He tries his very best, and thats all that matters to you.

So you will absolutely display his crooked vases in your home, and use his janky orange mugs, even if he glares at you while your coffee leaks in dribbles onto the floor and you smirk at him over the rim of the mug and you wiggle your eyebrows as you “cheers” him. Because you are a loving, good mate who displays your mates talent of course.

Even if it is just to make fun of him

But I also think he is a nature freak. He loves cultivating and collecting rare herbs and plants that he can grow in Day Court. He loves using those herbs and plants to create herbal remedies. He is a big naturalist. I think before you accepted him as your mate, he spent a lot of time in the Day Court libraries trying to get his mind off of you and he did that by studying old medicine. He studied different healing techniques and herbs that he could use to create medicinal potions. Over time, it grew into collecting these herbs and creating these potions for those who are sick, especially the elderly where he ended up donating a lot of his creations.

He also loves going fishing, he could spend hours in the ocean or in a lake or river swimming and fishing. He always releases them back into the wild, but I think there is something he finds peaceful about being in nature and being able to use nature in different ways. He loves going on hikes with you, and he absolutely is a camping nerd. His first holiday with you included going no-contact with every other person he knows for a week and spending that week in nature with you. He taught you different ways to find fresh water, and he would catch fish and cook them for you over the fire he stoked. At some point, he became really really good at cooking outdoors and was creating meals that are almost impossible for the most experienced chefs to make out door using nature.

Anyway, it was fun, and while it may not be your cup of tea for every vacation you take, you will go with him on this camping trip at least once a year to get away from society and spend time with your favorite male.

But!!! This does spark an idea for Lucien.

He loves to take young children out into nature to teach them about it, teaching them how to fish and how to survive in the outdoors just for fun. So he creates a little group of 5-10 year old children similar to Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts, encouraging all children to join him as he takes them out into nature. He teaches them how to swim, and how to tie sailors knots, and how to safely make s’mores. The children of Day Court look forward to it all year, excited to spend one on one time with their high lord who teaches them so many things, who is so kind to them, who is so funny and cool to hang out with. Story time in front of a campfire slaps for those kids. Eventually, when your children grow of age, he brings them with him, giving you a whole week for yourself to rejuvenate and vacation in peace.

With that being said, Lucien does take action similar to his brother. He creates national parks and conservation areas to protect nature. It is something that he finds incredibly important and he knows that one day, his children and grandchildren, and future generations as well, will appreciate his efforts to protect the world. He goes as far as convincing other courts to join his efforts as well, expanding protected areas.

Masterlist

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aegor-bamfsteel · 2 months

Note

In a sense, would you consider Theon Greyjoy to be Ned Stark’s son, as Jon Snow (despite his true heritage) very much is?

Well, let’s ask Theon, before his imprisonment by Ramsay:

Theon held his tongue, though not without struggle. So that is the way of it, he thought. As if ten years in Winterfell could make a Stark. Lord Eddard had raised him among his own children, but Theon had never been one of them. The whole castle, from Lady Stark to the lowliest kitchen scullion, knew he was hostage to his father's good behavior, and treated him accordingly. Even the bastard Jon Snow had been accorded more honor than he had.

Lord Eddard had tried to play the father from time to time, but to Theon he had always remained the man who'd brought blood and fire to Pyke and taken him from his home. As a boy, he had lived in fear of Stark's stern face and great dark sword. His wife was, if anything, even more distant and suspicious.

"I forget nothing." Ned Stark had killed neither of his brothers, in truth. Rodrik had been slain by Lord Jason Mallister at Seagard, Maron crushed in the collapse of the old south tower . . . but Stark would have done for them just as quick had the tide of battle chanced to sweep them together. —Theon I, ACOK

Theon thought of seeking out the bodies of the two men he'd slain himself to see if they had any jewelry worth the taking, but the notion left a bitter taste in his mouth. He could imagine what Eddard Stark would have said. Yet that thought made him angry too. Stark is dead and rotting, and naught to me, he reminded himself. Ugly as it was, that smile brought back a hundred memories. Theon had seen it often as a boy, when he'd jumped a horse over a mossy wall, or flung an axe and split a target square. He'd seen it when he blocked a blow from Dagmer's sword, when he put an arrow through a seagull on the wing, when he took the tiller in hand and guided a longship safely through a snarl of foaming rocks. He gave me more smiles than my father and Eddard Stark together. —Theon III, ACOK

"This is craven," Ser Rodrik said. "To use a child so . . . this is despicable." "Oh, I know," said Theon. "It's a dish I tasted myself, or have you forgotten? I was ten when I was taken from my father's house, to make certain he would raise no more rebellions."

The noose I wore was not made of hempen rope, that's true enough, but I felt it all the same. And it chafed, Ser Rodrik. It chafed me raw." He had never quite realized that until now, but as the words came spilling out he saw the truth of them. —Theon VI, ACOK

And after his torture:

But if anyone spoke of him now, it was as Theon Turncloak, and the tales they told were of his treachery. This was never my home. I was a hostage here. Lord Stark had not treated him cruelly, but the long steel shadow of his greatsword had always been between them. He was kind to me, but never warm. He knew that one day he might need to put me to death. —The Prince of Winterfell, ADWD

The old gods, he thought. They know me. They know my name. I was Theon of House Greyjoy. I was a ward of Eddard Stark, a friend and brother to his children. "Please." He fell to his knees. "A sword, that's all I ask. Let me die as Theon, not as Reek." Tears trickled down his cheeks, impossibly warm. "I was ironborn. A son … a son of Pyke, of the islands." —A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

It’s true that his feelings toward Ned had softened by ADWD (which makes sense, given what he’s been through with Ramsay), but despite that there’s a common theme that Ned was always cold and distant, never affectionate, because everyone knew Theon was a hostage for Balon’s good behavior, and Ned would’ve had to execute him had he rebelled again. There was really no way that Ned and Theon could’ve developed the positive relationship that Ned and Jon did (despite the shadow of Jon’s mother between them, Jon looks up to Ned and wants to make him proud) given that history. He may have called him a “second father” in swearing his oath to Robb, but neither Balon nor Ned were true father figures to Theon, so he considers Cleftjaw his “uncle” (the man who gave him affection as a child). Ned considered Jon Arryn a second father, as Quentyn did Lord Yronwood, but neither had Theon’s history as a hostage against their birth family.

Now, Theon doesn’t have the same baggage with Ned’s kids as with the man himself. He saved Bran and fought alongside Robb (who in his first chapter admits to having affection for, “as for a little brother”), so it makes sense a regretful Theon would think of himself as their friend and brother. But he’d never think of Ned as his “true father” (another example of the show misunderstanding his character).

#ask #opinion #theon greyjoy #asoiaf #eddard stark critical

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ne0nic · 7 months

Text

Our Game

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ Wriothesley x f!Reader ₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

MDNI

ִ ࣪𖤐 Word Count: 5.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 CW: NSFW, Dom!Wriothesley, Thief!Reader, Mentions of Human Trafficking, Drugged Tea, Slight Bondage

ִ ࣪𖤐 No use of Y/N, Never use of Y/N

The game is lively tonight and you expect to enjoy it in full.

With effortless grace, you move in and out of the shadows around the Court of Fontaine, becoming a phantom of the night. The deserted streets are a ripe playground, businesses closed, doors and windows locked, and the guards drowsy and inattentive. It's a realm of exhilarating opportunity, just waiting for you to claim.

Your destination is the side door of the antique jewelry shop, known as the last source of pride for an elderly proprietor. Your knowledge of every shop in the city is impeccable, following a mistake where you learned that it's unwise to steal from a Fatui-owned establishment; it's akin to pilfering from the Tsaritsa herself.

With a few deft movements, you manipulate the lock, and the door swings open without a sound. The shop's interior is as silent as a tomb, its owners having long retired for the evening. You enter, your eyes alight with anticipation.

You navigate the shop's layout like a child in a candy store, your gaze drawn to the glass cases showcasing a myriad of jewels, each one casting a beguiling shimmer. With nimble fingers, you open the case and select a ring featuring a sizable ruby. You slip it onto your finger, admiring the deep red luster. The ring itself is far from delicate, clearly designed for a more masculine hand – someone like…

You quickly remove the ring, tossing it into your bag. No point dwelling on such thoughts; it's time to collect your treasures and make your exit. You work swiftly, carefully placing necklaces and bracelets into your waiting bag, ensuring the displays remain untouched.

The unmistakable sound of heavy boots approaching makes you freeze in place, listening to the resonant thud of leather shoes and the subtle jingle of chains and cuffs. It's time to depart. You wrap up your mission with meticulous precision, and as swiftly as you had arrived, you vanish into the night. Peering from the safety of an alley, you remain silent, unable to spot the approaching figure. Even worse, you're uncertain of the direction from which he's drawing near.

Taking on the rooftop is undoubtedly the better choice. Climbing up the copper gutter pipe, you gain a sweeping view of the city from the high vantage point. From here, you can easily traverse the rooftops, leaping across buildings and making swift progress. As the immediate danger lessens, you descend to the streets below.

Suddenly, that distinct sound returns, the one signaling his presence. How did he catch up to you so fast? It's time for plan B. You snatch a dark cloak from a nearby stall and quickly drape it over yourself, making a dash for the nearest stationed Garde.

"Oh! Garde! Monsieur!" you implore, rushing up to the uniformed soldier. The young man, evidently new to the force, turns his attention to you with an eager desire to assist.

"Madame? What's the problem?" he inquires, clearly willing to help.

"I was just at the tavern getting a drink, and I think a strange man is following me! Please, help me!" You plead, ensuring fear reflects in your eyes.

"Do not worry, ma'am. I will take care of this," he assures, stepping around you to face the direction of the approaching footsteps.

"Oh! Thank you so much, Monsieur," you say, masking your sly grin as you slip away.

The guard stands firm, ready to protect the innocent young woman who has placed her trust in him, aligning with the oath to safeguard all citizens of Fontaine. His excitement is palpable.

A shadow emerges in the dimly lit street, advancing slowly. The young Garde stands at attention. "You there! I'd like a word with you!" he calls out.

The approaching figure steps into the light, revealing a large, menacing man. He possesses piercing blue eyes, is adorned with chains and has a pair of handcuffs hanging at his side. His coat is casually slung over his back, and a scar stretches from the base of his neck, disappearing under his clothing.

The young Garde recognizes the man and instantly locks up. "Y-Your Grace! My apologies! I mistook you for a suspect!"

"Suspect? What gave you that idea?" the man inquires, tilting his head gently.

"This young lady, she—" The Garde turns, only to find that you've vanished. "Where'd she go?"

"A woman?" he asks.

"Y-Yes, a woman. She claimed a man was following her," the Garde explains. The man, who moments ago wore a serious expression, breaks into a smirk and chuckles softly.

You've successfully ascended the tower, fully prepared to make your getaway into the cover of the night. Luckily, tonight's escape had proven effortless, and you hadn't even needed to trigger an alarm to elude the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide. He must be accustomed to your flamboyant tricks by now. The two of you had been engaged in this thrilling game for so long that you constantly had to innovate new ways to lead him astray. However, you'd come to find that the simplest tricks were the most enjoyable, especially after the sheer madness you'd put him through as you slipped away.

As you make your way toward freedom, a hand wraps firmly around your wrist, pressing your back into the wall. He looms above you, an unamused expression on his face. The way his stunning eyes seem to gleam in the dim light sends a shiver down your spine.

"Hello, darling," you taunt.

"Give it up. I'm taking you in," he declares with unwavering determination.

"That's what you always say," you mutter, causing him to grit his teeth.

"The bag," he demands, extending his hand.

"You're no fun," you pout, pulling the strap over your head and placing it in his palm. Wriothesley keeps you cornered as he opens the satchel, only to find it empty—no jewels, necklaces, or even a few coins. "Trouble?" you ask with a smirk.

"Where are the jewels?" he asks bluntly.

"What jewels?" you play innocent. He grabs your arms, pressing you firmly against the wall.

"I'm not in the mood for this today," he growls.

"But I'm completely innocent, Your Grace," you say with wide, doe eyes. "Little old me? A thief? Isn't it wrong to accuse someone without any evidence?"

"Enough!" he snaps, pushing you closer, your chests almost touching. You can feel the way his heart races, how you make him nervous. It sends a thrill through you.

"Or was there a different reason you followed me tonight, Your Grace?" you inquire, leaning forward. Your lips are mere inches apart. He tries to hide the way his breath hitches, but your smirk widens. "Did you want me all to yourself? You could've just asked. I'd never refuse." You tease him with expert precision, knowing precisely what to say and do to provoke him. You close the distance even further, his eyes locked onto your lips. Your breaths mingled so closely that your lips could touch if either of you moved even slightly. And just when it seems like he can't take it any longer, you pull away. "Forgive me, Your Grace. Sometimes I forget you're a man of the law, dedicated to your work. Surely, you're far too busy for me to take up any more of your time."

"Shut up," he snaps, closing the gap between you in an instant. He captures your lips, instantly stealing your breath away. His kisses are demanding, his desire to take the lead palpable, and you willingly submit to his commanding presence. His teeth graze along your bottom lip, eliciting a breathy, barely audible moan from you. You press your thighs together, utterly captivated by the way this man has the power to make you unravel. His longing for you has always had the ability to make you tremble, particularly in moments like these, when the game between you two reaches its zenith, when he finally catches you, and both of your desires hit you without reserve.

His hand raises to the back of your neck, tilting your head up, giving him more of you. He's going mad. He has to be. There must be some kind of spell or pheromone that you've cast over him, that makes him need you desperately. Everytime you're before him like this, his morals fly out the window, and his lust becomes so thick he can't resist. He's well aware of the moral dilemma that plagues him. You're a true criminal, through and through, and he's fully cognizant of the wrongdoing of his actions. However, he never feels the exhilaration of the chase as intensely as he does when it's with you.

The tranquil sound of water churning brings you back to the present moment. Regrettably, it's time for you to make your exit. Your fingers slide over his vest pocket, and Wriothesley's brow furrows as you withdraw from the kiss.

"Gotta run," you murmur, slipping out of his grasp and collecting your discarded bag. Wriothesley's brows knit as you head toward the boat.

"Wait!" He attempts to step forward but is abruptly pulled back. He turns, only to discover that you've cuffed him to the service pipes. With a frustrated grunt, he struggles against the cuffs, and something falls out of his pocket. He gazes downward, finding a jewel necklace on the ground. Lifting his head to you again, you turn back to him with a playful smile.

"I had fun."

"Dammit!" He curses, his bracers materializing on his hand as he strikes through his own cuffs. Finally free, he makes a dash toward the boat. But the ferry has already set off, and he can only huff in frustration as you slip away.

Again.

Your fingers trace over the ledger, where rows upon rows of names denote inmates at the Fortress of Meropide. However, none of them match the one you're seeking. You can't help but wonder how many trivial offenses landed people in this imposing place.

Infiltrating the fortress itself was a relatively straightforward affair. They treat their prisoners well down here, making escape seem an improbable feat. Most inmates are cowed by the mere sight of the glass barrier that separates them from the relentless ocean outside. However, gaining entry was an entirely different challenge. Infiltrating the Duke's office, that's where things get tricky. Luckily, your familiarity with the office makes the entry a minor concern, especially when you have a duplicate key at your disposal.

"I'm assuming you didn't come for tea," a voice intones behind you. His hand closes the ledger's cover and rests atop it. Veins course through his arm and hand, and his knuckles are rough and calloused. You push away the inappropriate thoughts that threaten to surface.

"Should I even ask how you got in?" he continues, but you maintain your silence, choosing not to respond. Playing along with him today is the last thing on your mind.

"Who are you looking for?" he gets straight to the point.

"An...associate of mine went missing a few days ago. I was merely curious if he happened to be in your custody," you reply. He picks up the ledger and moves to the other side of his desk to set it down.

"Associate, huh? I thought you worked alone."

"I do," you confirm.

"His name?"

"As if I'd give you that. I'm not here to further incriminate him; I need to secure his swift release."

"Then it seems I can't help you," he states.

"You've never helped me," you correct, to which he chuckles.

"Touche."

"I brought you more of that blend you like," you say, gesturing toward the cabinet.

"Paid for with the proceeds from the jewels?" he questions, a hint of darkness in his tone. You smirk.

"I don't recall any jewels. It's simply a friendly gift, a favor for a favor," you reply, reveling in how his eyes narrow at your words.

"And what favor have I done for you?" he inquires, already knowing the answer. He's trying to ensnare you with your own words.

"I'll prepare a cup for you, dear. You seem weary," you offer, turning toward the cabinet. He's beside you in an instant, gripping your wrist.

"I wouldn't trust you to make anything for me," he snaps, making you smirk.

"Do you truly believe I'd do anything to harm you?" you ask in a feigned tone of surprise. You notice the tension in his jaw and your gaze drifts lower to the scar on his chest, which barely peeks above his clothing, triggering memories of that fateful day. "...Anymore?"

"Go sit down," he orders, and you pull away from his grasp.

"Yes, Your Grace," you say as you step over to the table. Outside the window, the vast expanse of the ocean unfolds, with creatures moving freely, seemingly unconcerned with the curse that hangs over the people of this nation.

You can't help but envy them, particularly after the arrival of that blonde-haired traveler, which marked the beginning of a downward spiral.

"I would like—"

"Three sugar cubes, I know," he interjects, causing a subtle smile to play on your lips.

"What time will the Iudex be arriving? I'd hate to be a bother," you inquire, knowing full well that you've committed his schedule to memory. He sighs, realizing there's no use concealing it from you.

"He won't be. Monsieur Neuvillette had a sudden trial, so he's rescheduled for next week," he admits, an air of candor coloring his response.

"What a shame. That blend is best served fresh," you murmur, your gaze drifting back to the water. A few moments later, he joins you at the table, the gentle clinking of teacups and saucers filling the air. You eagerly pick up your cup.

"I must admit I only ever have tea with you," you confess.

"Oh?" He raises an eyebrow as he settles into his seat. He observes you as you bring the cup to your lips and take a sip. Only then does he feel comfortable enough to indulge in his tea.

"It's true," you affirm, setting the cup down. "I always believe tea deserves to be enjoyed in good company."

"You don't have any other good company?" he inquires.

"None quite like you," you reply with a smile.

"Your clever quips won't get you out of here, you know."

"You think I'm clever?" You tease with a playful glint in your eyes.

"I don't intend to just let you walk out of here."

"You never have, not until I was properly sore and had trouble walking the next day," you taunt, taking another sip, causing him to gulp down his tea. His hands clench as you speak.

"Enough. This... arrangement we had is over. I'm taking you in. I'll inform Neuvillette of your transgressions, and you'll face justice," he declares, his tone stern.

"And then I'll find myself right back under your vigilant watch. Is that what you desire? To keep me close? Ensure that we'll never be apart again?" You tease. His jaw tightens. "I thought you relished our little game as much as I did."

"Game?! You're stealing from people!" His anger is palpable now.

You roll your eyes, reaching into your jacket and producing a document, which you slap onto the table. He leans back, perplexed. "And what is this?"

"The justification you seek. The part of you that yearns to believe I'm not entirely malevolent, this is your evidence."

"I don't understand."

"You will," you assure him. The grandfather clock in the corner begins to chime, marking the appointed time.

"It's time for me to go."

"What?" he blurts out.

You rise from the table with alacrity. "Thank you for the tea. I had a lovely time." You begin to walk away, and he suddenly springs to his feet. However, dizziness overtakes him, and he barely catches himself as the world blurs around him. Overwhelming drowsiness renders his legs wobbly, and he finds himself on his knees, struggling to resist it.

"When?" he manages to mumble.

"It was your teacup. You always use the same one," you giggle. He exhales in frustration. You draw closer.

"Don't worry. I'd never harm you. You're just going to have a short nap."

His hand grasps your wrist. "Don't go," he pleads, his desperation evident. It ignites a spark in your heart, prompting you to sink to your knees, cupping his cheeks.

"Well, when you ask so sweetly like that, how can I resist?" you murmur before pressing your lips to his. "Listen to Siegewinne, dear. You've been appearing quite exhausted lately. But I hope you'll feel better when you awaken. And on top of that," your gaze drifts toward the document, "you might see me in a different light the next time we meet."

After a lengthy and exasperating lecture from Siegewinne, Wriothesley finally returns to his office. It appears that you were telling the truth; it was merely a sleeping drug, and by the time he awoke, you had vanished. He didn't provide Siegewinne with many details about your encounter, nor did he delve into any in-depth discussion about you.

He sinks back into his chair, holding a cool washcloth to his forehead. You had been here, well within his grasp, and yet, once again, he found himself incapable of fulfilling the very duty he had sworn to uphold. It frustrates him to no end. Every time you make an appearance, it catches him off guard. However, when he saw you inspecting his office, for a brief moment, he had hoped you were there for him alone. Alas, that's never the case.

To make matters worse, you've infiltrated his dreams. Every time he closes his eyes, there you are, bare beneath him, your cheeks adorned with a charming flush. Your hands tenderly caress his face, and he takes you with a gentleness and passion that starkly contrasts the reality of your late-night rendezvous. Normally, he's rough with you, mirroring your intensity rather than expressing love.

The thought of you alone is enough to stir his desires, and he curses himself. You had drugged him not long ago, yet he's back to square one. Removing the washcloth, he stares at the ceiling, hoping his little problem will subside on its own. He replays the recent events in his mind, striving to rekindle his anger instead of his lust.

"You might see me in a different light the next time we meet."

What did you mean by that? How could he perceive you differently? His gaze drifts to the desk, where the document you left behind rests. He leans forward, scoops up the folded papers, and breaks the wax seal. As he peruses the contents, his heart sinks.

The elderly man who owns the jewelry shop was using it to launder money from human trafficking sales. You appraised numerous items and recorded their selling prices. You even managed to gather evidence of the boats at the marina being involved in the conspiracy. Photos, evidence—everything is meticulously compiled within these documents. This alone must have taken you weeks. A small note is clipped to the last page, the page itself revealing the location where the captors are holding their victims.

Without jewels, there are no sales. I have bought you time, Warden. Do not disappoint me.

He rises from his desk, his mind racing with thoughts of what to do next.

The entirety of Fontaine's police force is mobilized for this operation, simultaneously raiding all the identified targets. Wriothesley, however, personally takes charge of the most significant arrest. With a sense of duty, he apprehends the elderly man, promptly handcuffs him, and pushes him toward the exit.

Outside, the ever-dramatic residents of Fontaine have congregated, forming a boisterous audience to witness this spectacle. The vigilant Gardes work diligently to keep the curious onlookers at bay as he escorts the man outside. His eyes inadvertently scan the crowd.

A sudden pause overcomes him as he catches sight of you. A sly smile graces your lips as you knowingly meet his gaze, and then, with your characteristic grace, you disappear into the crowd, leaving him with a sense of intrigue.

About a week later, following the court's verdict and the subsequent exile to the Fortress, you make a return. Leaning casually on his desk, you patiently await his arrival. As he trudges up the steps, his demeanor brightens in pleasant surprise at the unexpected sight of you. There's a trace of solemnity in your smile as your eyes meet his.

Setting his report down, he approaches you, his curiosity evident in his tone. "You've been gone for a while."

"I had some important matters to attend to," you explain. "The victims who were kidnapped are now under the care of the Spina di Rosula. Most of them are just awaiting reunions with their families. Convincing a few to testify during the trial was a bit challenging, but I'm relieved it's come to a favorable resolution. The Spina di Rosula has pledged to hunt down the buyers, and I've provided them with all the information I could gather."

"Why not have the Spina di Rosula collaborate with the Garde?" he inquires.

"You and I both know that would never happen."

"What now?" he asks.

"My job is done, and I've cut my few remaining ties. All that remains," you say, raising his cuffs, "is you, Your Grace." He takes the cuffs from you, studying them with furrowed brows. As you lift your hands toward him, he glances from the cuffs to your wrists.

With a resounding clack, the cuffs land on the desk. The gravity of this decision settles upon you, hiding within it the unspoken message he wishes to convey. Slowly, you lower your hands as he fixes his gaze on you, drawing dangerously near.

"You're making a mistake," you caution.

"I know," he responds before pulling you closer and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

In a matter of seconds you both burst into his bedroom, lips locked, jackets falling to the floor. Your nimble fingers are quick on the buttons of his vest as he backs you towards the bed. He pulls your shirt upwards, his rough hands riding up your front. Once one hand finds your breast you moan into his mouth. His ice cold touch electrifies you. He rids you of your shirt and pushes you down onto the bed. His gray vest falls to the floor leaving him looking seductively disheveled in just his black button up.

The tip of your nail fits between your teeth as you devour him with your eyes. "You're going too slow," you whine, reaching a hand out. Your fingers trail over his shirt, feeling every curve of his muscles just beneath the fabric. It has you aching for him. He reaches up, tugging his tie free from his neck. You light up, obediently offering your other wrist to him too.

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you'd liked being my prisoner," he says, leaning closer as he ties the red fabric around your wrists.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," you tease, leaning in as well. His gaze falls to your lips before lifting your arms over your head and guiding you to lay on your back. From there he spreads your thighs, fitting himself between. Pressing your lips tight together, you resist the urge to beg. Even a small bit of friction would be heavenly, but it doesn't come. Instead he slowly strips your bottom half, taking his sweet time to admire your panties before just snapping them off your hips.

He sinks to his knees, lips caressing your inner thigh. Your hands find their way to your mouth trying to muffle your own weak whimpers as he trails towards your core. Where you want him the most.

Just as his breath ghosts over your aching cunt he stops. Suddenly his hand wraps around the tie and shoves it upwards again. "Do not move them again, if you do you can forget about my earlier mistake. I'll take you in, right now, like this," he threatens in a husky voice, eyes boring into yours. You smirk, lifting your thigh to rub against his hip.

"Like this, Your Grace? How scandalous," you tease.

"Do you understand?" he demands.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" He snaps.

"Yes, sir," you say, your voice growing weaker.

"Good girl," he praises, and you know you're soaked down there. Cheeks tinged red and heart racing as he sinks back down your body. He lifts your thighs over his shoulders before tugging you in one last time. Torturously slow he gives a chaste kiss to your clit. You resist the urge to pull your arms back down as a groan leaves your lips, your body involuntarily twitching. Wriothesley smirks at the display. It's as if he's trained your body to fall apart at just his touch, something he carries with pride.

His tongue dives between your folds, and you throw your head back with a sinful moan. The man below you is terrifyingly good with his tongue and fingers which makes his next move a damning one.

Two fingers easily slide into you, but he makes sure not to curve them into the place you like. Instead he watches the way you writhe, almost trying to force his fingers that way, the pleasure making you dizzy. Pathetic moans and whimpers pass your lips, music to his ears.

"Please… fuck— mh."

"What was that?" He mutters. "I couldn't hear you." His fingers slow to a cruel rub.

"I wanna cum. Please," you beg.

"Really?... I don't know if you deserve to," he says, his voice dropping a few octaves. The voice change drives you, making him smirk as he feels you tighten. "After all, you didn't tell me what you were up to. You worked outside the law, you could've gotten yourself hurt. Now, that… I just can't seem to forgive." He crooks one finger up slightly, sending you spiraling.

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry! I won't do it again," you promise. He slowly rises to his feet, fingers still deep inside you. Wriothesley leans over your trembling frame. His hand caresses your cheek with a tender touch. The coolness of his fingers on your burning cheek is practically bliss.

"Now, how can I believe you? You've broken every other promise you've made to me," he says tauntingly. Fuck! You hate him. You know what he's trying to do, and he knows how desperate you are, enough to agree to any of his demands. He brings your diverting gaze back to his.

"No more secrets," you agree, making him sigh.

"Now, was that so hard?" He asks, pressing right there making your head go fuzzy. You gasp in surprise as his fingers pull you apart all over again, the familiar sensation pooling within you. Wriothesley presses his lips to yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth so he can still hear your gasping moans. "Cum, pretty girl." Your body shudders in the wake of your orgasm, and he doesn't relent, driving you oversensitive in a matter of moments. Your hands grab his wrist, stopping him as you still ride out the end of your orgasm. He smirks and pulls his fingers out. You feel the tie release your wrists.

He's gentle as he lifts your face, seeing the dazed, blissed out expression you wear. His lips peck around your cheeks, to your neck, to your collar, and them to your shoulders by the time your high fades.

"Back with me?" He asks lifting your chin, you nod and he slots his lips against yours while opening your legs again. He fits himself between them and pulls on his belt with one hand, something you don't mind helping him with. He chuckles as he feels you desperately pull his pants open. His aching cock springs free hard and hot in your palm as you stroke him. His forehead sinks to your shoulder as he shudders, slightly thrusting into your touch. "Shit."

"Hurry," you urge. Lifting himself up he positions himself so the head just barely brushes against you. You press your lips together.

Wriothesley reaches upwards, his hand sliding down your arm until he can fit his fingers between yours. Then he thrusts. His other hand grips your hip so tight you pray there will be a bruise. He stretches you open, forcing you to take his size, your eyes roll back into your head.

"Fuck!" You cry out as he bottoms out. He starts with slow shallow thrusts but his patience quickly wears thin. In no time he's snapping his hips forward, rocking the bed, shoving himself deeper inside you. It's predatory, the way he heaves, the way he takes, the way his fingers grip your hair and hold your head up to make you watch him fuck your brains out.

In practically no time at all you're cumming again, but he doesn't slow down, his own orgasm approaching as he feels you clench down on him. The continued force of his thrusts sends you right into a second orgasm and he follows suit. Your cunt milks him for all he's worth. Every drop belongs to you.

He belongs to you.

"Just fucking be mine already," he groans. His words break through your hazy mind in an instant.

"What?"

"Fuck," he mutters. "You're gonna make me say it outright, aren't you?" He leans over fingers brushing over your cheek. "Stay with me. Be with me."

Your heart feels as if it may beat out of your chest as he says it. His cold eyes are now strikingly warm and tender. But you don't know what to say.

Instead you reach up, hands pulling his face down to yours. He complies easily. You kiss him sweetly, whispering against his lips, "I'm yours."

Your confirmation makes his heart sing as he kisses you with more fervor, growing hard inside you once more. The first thrust catches you by surprise but you're loving it. This time there's nothing rough about the way he holds you. He treats you softly, like you'll break if he's any harder. He holds your body in tight to his, burying himself deep inside you, until you're seeing stars.

The clock chimes, marking the hour as Wriothesley opens his eyes. To his dismay the spot next to him is empty. He rubs his face, already stressed that you've disappeared like usual. Unfortunately, maybe he was foolish enough to hope for something more from you.

Sitting up he finally notices the weight on his finger. A ring, a gigantic red ruby within a thick band. The metal is dark and the design is intricate. Honestly, it truly seems like something he'd wear.

Peering over to your side one more time his eyes widen as he sees a folded up paper. With one hand he retrieves it and flips it open.

My secrets come at a cost, Your Grace. So, if you manage to catch me Thursday night, I might consider telling you one or two. Preferably over tea.

I'll be expecting you.

He laughs to himself, "So, the chase is still on, huh? Better make it interesting."

#wriothesley x reader

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