#still slowly working on a new embroidery piece... slowly

[catscidr]

flowers blossom beneath the scalpel - chapter one: painfully punctual

chapter warnings: none, just banter and storybuilding wc: 3,2k

Fontaine is a beautiful region, but especially so during the evening. The moonlight reflecting the calm waves of nearby bodies of water onto nearby buildings, lamp posts illuminating the polished cobblestone streets and the bustling nightlife coming alive while the businessmen and women hastily strut through the streets to get back home so they can finally rest after a long day of hard work. Younger people chatting away and catching up on whatever drama that had been circulating around the city lately, blissfully unaware of how loud they were being as some older, more cranky residents give them nasty looks in hopes they would be a little quieter with their gossip. And then some people closing shop, cleaning around their store or booth setup, making sure the area stays clean for the next day. 

You were currently anxiously dusting off even the smallest, most insignificant surfaces of your flower shop in Vasari Passage- the pleasant smell of freshly plucked pluie lotuses wafting in the air unfortunately did little to ease your nerves. You kept running around in circles, going from fixing the window setup to restocking various items, to sweeping the floor for the millionth time. 

Part of why you were so on edge, more so than usual, was because of Fontaine’s new relationship with the nation of eternal frost. 

Snezhnaya and Fontaine had been on rough terms, issues between one of their diplomats and the eccentric Hydro archon unknown to the public until the Iudex of Fontaine declared that they would begin to rekindle the nation’s relationship slowly, starting with the civilians and locals. Unfortunately, the florist was one of the people involved to service an incoming Snezhnayan diplomat that would visit the region to study its flora. Something about research about the flowers’ medicinal abilities; Neuvillette explained the whole process, however you missed some parts of what he said because of how stressed you were. All you knew was that the Snezhnayan was supposed to arrive at any given moment, and you were still closing shop, far behind your self-imposed schedule. 

The whirlwind of thoughts only served to make your blood pressure spike to levels it usually doesn’t reach. Thanks to the panicked movements, while sweeping the floor you managed to accidentally knock over a porcelain flowerpot with the broom handle when you turned around abruptly. A loud crash resounds in the small shop, making you yelp loudly in surprise. 

“Fuck!” you exclaim noisily, whipping around to gawk at the broken pieces of clay scattered all across the floor you had just broomed. Grumbling a self-deprecating monologue to yourself under your breath, you round the corner to grab the dustpan and quickly clean up your mess. 

While you were busy making sure every little piece of porcelain was off the floor, you failed to notice the presence of someone else in the shop. 

The person in question wore a large white coat adorned by fluffy black fur around the collar with a Fatui emblem on their right shoulder. The cloak was lavishly decorated with embroidery, silver and royal blue threads adding some color to their otherwise gloomy-looking attire. They had messy icy blue hair, some locks softly curling around the sides of their face to frame their cheekbones. Though their face was mostly hidden by their black and white mask, their crimson eyes were visible and shone brightly with mischief, doing little to hide their expression of amusement. 

They chuckled under their breath while looking down at the frantic florist. During their long trip to come to the region of hydro, they had missed seeing people tremble with fear and, even though this person wasn’t exactly reacting in consequence to their actions, they still enjoyed the sight. But duty called- they couldn’t bask in the woman’s misery for too long. 

Plus, they had to maintain an amicable relationship with Fontaine anyways... The whole reason they’re here.  

“Ahem,” they cough audibly, raspy voice echoing in the otherwise quiet store. The sound of a voice other than your own made you jolt, accidentally pricking your index with a shard of porcelain that you hadn’t cleaned up from the floor yet. You stand upright immediately, turning around again, but this time to face the stranger. Met with the sight of an unfamiliar man but a familiar uniform, you can only deduce that he’s, in fact, not a burglar and had a good reason to come in the store even though the sign said ‘CLOSED’ outside. Even if he kind of looks like a criminal. 

“Hello! Good evening!” you stammer nervously, dusting off your apron. The movement made you cringe inwardly, injured finger stinging slightly with pain. “You’re the diplomat from Snezhnaya, right?” you ask politely. 

“That I am,” he says with a nod, tilting his head to glance around the store. He makes a slow scan of the flower arrangements around the shop, whether because he was actually curious, or to stall and make you even more nervous, you couldn’t tell; it may as well have been both. His gaze flickers back to the florist, locking eyes with you. You visibly flinch, much to his delight. 

“Il Dottore,” he says simply, with an easy smile. 

You blink, heartbeat slowly calming down. Seems like he wasn’t going to rob or kill you, despite what your anxious mind made you believe for a split second.  

You introduce yourself and give him your name with a nod and a forced, customer service-like smile. 

The two of you stand in awkward silence for a few moments. You look at his attire, equally in awe and in fear and he stares down at you, his expression unreadable. 

“Would you like me to teach you some... uh, stuff about our regional specialties, then?” you ask quietly, deeply unsure of how to go about this. Why wasn’t he saying anything? Shouldn’t he be asking about whatever information he needed? You fiddle with a frayed thread on your apron, eyes moving from the warm, comforting familiarity of your shop to the cold unfamiliarity of the Harbinger in front of her. To your surprise, the man laughs. A hearty, genuine laugh- though it didn’t seem like it was because he thought you were funny. When he finally calms down, he scoffs and crosses his arms beneath his cloak. 

“No.” 

Dottore’s answer was firm and straight to the point. With that, all you can think of doing is shutting up and waiting for him to say something since your attempt didn’t really do anything productive. The mood shifted in such little time, your poor mind reeling with what if scenarios as Dottore simply stands confidently, not affected by the atmosphere in the slightest.  

So much for rekindling the nations’ relationship, you think to yourself. 

“I’ll take a couple of plant samples, though.” he says abruptly, suddenly tired of the silence. The Harbinger had a cold tone, bored of whatever wasn’t happening, like he was used to wreaking havoc for his own morbid pleasure. You shudder at your passing thoughts, swallowing audibly. 

“Of course,” you respond after a moment of hesitation. Taking one last look at the man, you turn around and head into the storage unit. You were expecting the Harbinger to follow but the absence of his footsteps said otherwise; breathing out a sigh of relief, you take a moment to let your overworked body rest, shoulders slumping and head drooping down as you press a hand on your chest. It was beating so, so fast- too quickly for it to be considered a normal heart rate. But, being (mostly) used to it, you click her tongue in annoyance and lift your head up, ready to scan the shelves to pick out the worst-looking plants out of spite and childish rebellion. 

The shelves were only going to be restocked in three days, which left the storage room more barren than it usually was. Unfortunately, Dottore would have to come back if he wanted more samples, fresher plants, or if he had any questions about their properties. Unfortunately, that means you’re going to have to see him again, which you’re already dreading- even though he hasn’t left the store yet. With an irritated huff you grab a small plant of rainbow roses, lumidouce bells and two marcotte plants to make up for the lack of... everything else. After making sure that the more fragile plants won’t slip out of your arms, you carefully walk out to the open area of the store, where Dottore was silently observing a simple, plain sweet flower. Prodding and poking at the plant, he didn’t bother turning around to speak up. 

“Are you just going to stand there all night?” he asks. In the dim light of the flower shop, you felt equal parts intimidated and... reassured? You felt an odd sense of peace wash over you, seeing such an intimidating man handle a flower so carefully- you didn’t think he would handle the plants with such care, being the man that he is. 

You take a few steps towards him, tilting your head to look at what he was doing. “A sweet flower?” you ask in a hushed tone, almost afraid that being too loud will make him mad at you. 

“A sweet flower from Fontaine,” he specifies, a hint of irritation in his voice. “Although found all over Teyvat, everything evolves in different ways depending on where it resides, and plants are no different.” Dottore turns to glance at you for a second, then looks back down at the sweet flower, a frown on his face. “If you were to take this one,” he holds a petal between his thumb and forefinger, “and plant it somewhere in Dragonspine, it would die.” 

He lets go of the flower and lets his arm rest at his side, hidden by his large cloak once more. 

“If you were to take a mint from Mondstadt and plant it in Sumeru, it would die too.” He straightens his back and takes a proper look at your skittish figure, looking down at you with an unreadable, yet stern expression. “I want to study their differences. To know how they survive.” To exploit their properties, he thought. This was the most he had spoken since he got here, yet you almost wish he had stayed quiet instead. 

Taking in his words, you swore you heard a hint of what seemed to be a quiet threat to his otherwise smooth voice. But, again, you chalked it up to your head messing with you, ignored the feeling of dread pooling in your stomach and nodded slowly, even though you didn’t really understand what he was getting at with his explanation. He probably just liked hearing himself speak, you thought to yourself, scoffing. 

“So... would you rather I give you some sweet flowers and mints?” you ask with a raised brow, growing tired of being so on edge because of him. You should have been home ages ago. The man doesn’t catch your irritation (or rather, doesn’t seem to care about it) and nods, saying something about you actually making yourself useful that you brush off indignantly with an uninterested slow blink and brows that were furrowed ever so slightly. 

Instead of lamenting your precious time lost that could have been spent staring at your phone scrolling through social media until you fell asleep, you go back to the storage room and bring back a pot of sweet flowers and a plant of mint. When you get back to where Dottore stood, you immediately spot another man with him. He had dirty blonde hair and a gray mask on his face that covered half of his face, though his mask had black eyes drawn on instead space cut out for his eyes to shine through. You wonder how he can see through that thing, in comparison to Dottore’s mask. They were busy speaking- or more like the doctor was speaking to the shorter man while the latter nodded feverishly- but you couldn’t catch what he was saying. Though from the sight of the flowers you had previously brought in his arms, you assumed it was something like put these away so I can dissect them later or something along those lines. 

The man bows at Dottore and leaves with the plants. Deciding not to question him, you just come up to the Harbinger and place the new batch of flowers on the counter in front of him. 

“Here. Now did you want to discuss anything else?” you ask with a quiet sigh, though you try to keep your pitch higher so you don’t sound too tired. A habit from working a customer service job for so long. 

In response, Dottore’s lips curl into a small smirk and in the same cocky attitude as before, crosses his arms while turning around to have a better look at you. 

You wore a short-sleeved beige button-down with the flower shop’s signature steel blue apron over it along with black, skintight shorts that ended right below your knees. There were a couple of small tears and signs of distress on the hem of the skirt, but it seemed to be well-taken care of, nonetheless. Plain, slightly worn white sneakers finished off the uniform and, though simple, it had its charm. You had a multitude of bruises and cuts on your hands and knees; although small, they decorated your skin with hues of pink, blue and faded yellow from previous accidents on the job. You kept a pair of shears in your apron’s front pocket as well as a pen and what appeared to be a small notebook. Pushing up your large glasses, you shift your weight on your other foot impatiently- clearly a little irritated by how long it was taking the doctor to speak. 

“That won’t be necessary,” he says with a dismissive wave, shaking his head softly. “I need to get back to work myself. And you,” he huffs, his smirk dropping ever so slightly, “need to watch your tone.” 

You stared at the man; expression unwavering aside from the dumbfounded blinks you couldn’t help herself from... blinking. Were you supposed to tell him about your most sincere apologies after his rude display of attitude? Double down on your true thoughts about him and start insulting him? As far as you knew, you just looked a little tired. 

For a second, you were tempted to respond with a witty remark of your own to match his energy but, remembering who you were dealing with, you put that thought aside for now. 

“...sorry about that,” you mutter sheepishly, flustered that someone was actually confronting you about your lack of overly enthusiastic customer service attitude. “I’m not technically on the clock so I just...” 

As you continue to elaborate, you trail off and stop talking to prevent yourself from digging yourself into an even deeper hole. Looking up at the doctor, you shoot him an awkward grin and look away as you await the inevitable reprimand. But instead of scolding her, all Dottore does is shrug and scoff at your excuse.  

“You’re in severe lack of a backbone, don’t you think?” he asks with a strained, fake grin. 

Dumbfounded once again, all you can do is blink at the doctor. Once, and then twice. You shut your mouth, which had been slightly ajar from the shock of how boldly he spoke, and somehow kept yourself together, not wanting your body to be brutally mutilated and never found again. While you deal with your inner conflict, Dottore grabs the plant samples and makes his way towards the front door of the flower shop. 

“I’ll see you soon enough,” he says, purposely brushing his arm against your shoulder to make you stumble backwards. Knocked out of your dazed state, you shoot him a weak glare and mutter I hope not under your breath before holding the door open for him, a habit that you can’t get rid of since you started working with the general public. Dottore scoffs, obviously holding his tongue as he simply rolls his eyes in response to your quip. 

“Try not to be in such a sour mood next time. I’d hate to do something impulsive to correct that attitude of yours,” is all he says as he whisks himself away in the dim cobblestone streets, light footsteps slowly growing quieter the more distance he puts between the two of you. 

You stay standing at the door for a second, narrowing your eyes at the man you not only met about an hour ago, but already have beef with. Thinking back on the exchange, you couldn’t tell if you had done anything wrong to set him off or if he was just another one of those entitled rich men that thought they could get away with being dickheads just because they have a powerful job; you can only sigh and thank the archons that he left before you accidentally made the situation worse. 

Turning around, you head back into the flower shop to quickly cross out the stock you had given out to Dottore for free and make a quick note to mention it to Neuvillette next time you see him. The silence in the store was very welcome, your pounding heart finally able to relax while you lean over the counter to write down the details on what happened so that the Iudex could write it off as a business expense. At least this wouldn’t come out of your own pockets. 

Putting the document away in the desk behind the cash register counter, you take off your apron and hang it on the coat hanger in the break room. The four walls seemed almost too bare, too quiet at this time of day. With the lights being turned off, only the moonlight shone through to illuminate the surface of the small coffee table in the middle of the room, surrounded by a handful of less-than-comfortable chairs. 

With one last glance at the room, you grab your bag from the hanger and head out of the shop, locking the door carefully. If anything, at least the place looked fresher from how intensely you cleaned up earlier- you won’t have to do too much cleaning when you come back to work tomorrow. 

“Tomorrow...” you murmur to yourself with a groan. You take out your phone from your bag and hold back another, more dramatic groan- it was half past midnight. 12:32AM. Clicking your tongue, you shove the phone back in your tote, picking up the speed to get back to your flat before it got even darker outside.  

The streets were mostly barren, save for the handful of bars that had people occasionally stumbling out to get some fresh air. For a second, you briefly considered going in for a drink, but after a second of critical thinking, realize that the inevitable hangover wouldn’t be worth it. That and you might just throw your drink at a man if he looked at you the wrong way. The only remedy for your foul mood is your comfortable, warm bed and some good food to soothe your tired body and mind.  

With the sound of bar music fading away, your footsteps quicken as you get more and more excited to go home when, finally, you unlock your apartment door and fling your shoes off, collapsing onto your bed with a tired, dramatic groan- calling it a night. 

a/n: heheeee hi. hello. (゜▽゜;) this is a (very self indulgent) fic i started ages ago. i originally wrote it for myself but i edited it so it could be read as an x reader fic instead of oc/selfship x reader. idk if anyone's even going to like it but that's fine either way, i have a plot planned out for this and i intend on actually going through with it, unlike the dozen of unfinished fics and ideas i have in my laptop. So. consider this a gift from me to u, dear dottore enjoyer reading this. smoochies ٩(◦`꒳´◦)۶ if anyone wants more of this lmk because im nervous about posting this LOL (reader doesn't have a set appearance but i Do describe her work uniform and mention that she wears glasses, just fyi). apologies in advance if this reads a bit awkwardly i had to change it from third person to second person lolol it wont be like that for the entirety of the fic, just the first chapter and like half of the second one. n e ways

next chapter -> ch. 2

#୧ ‧₊˚fbbts #dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore x fem!reader #dottore x afab reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #il dottore x reader #il dottore x you #il dottore x y/n #dottore x y/n #il dottore #dottore #genshin x y/n #୧ ‧₊˚cat's work!

[coffeeanddonutscafe]

Cold Comfort

Astarion has a nightmare and fluff unfolds.

Summary:

The camp lay in nocturnal stillness. Astarion stood before his tent, the weight of his own existence pressing heavily upon him. And then, he saw her—a half-asleep Tav, her chestnut hair in disarray as she groggily stirred. Unable to resist, he approached her, a half-whispered endearment on his lips, crouching beside her. "What is it, my sweet treat?"

Notes:

I plan to make this a fluff fic, with a mix of introspections, pondering and some deep self-reflection from Astarion's point of view. I do want to envelop him into the gentle world of fluff, like a warm hug he deserves so much.

Chapter 3: Midnight Snacks

Tav's gaze remained filled with curiosity, but she held back from probing further, sensitive to the delicate boundaries Astarion had been constructing. She recognized that perhaps giving him the space to decide whether to share what troubled him was the best course of action.

Despite the brutal hardships he'd endured, he'd managed to persevere in his own way. In Tav's eyes, he'd shown incredible strength, often more than he gave himself credit for. With a fierce determination, he had managed to safeguard the tiniest fragments of his true self, slowly stitching together the pieces of his shattered mind and soul to the best of his abilities.

She thought to herself, "The same way he so meticulously mended all of his garments - embellishing them with embroidery, with exquisite mastery." Tav marvelled at the fact that some of his clothes, worn for years, retained an impeccable condition. However, that thought made her utterly sad and she made a mental note to make sure he bought himself new garments next time they stumbled upon a trader. Well, at least they are done with the task at hand.

Tav offered Astarion a warm smile, sensing that he was still lost in his thoughts. She decided not to disturb him further, content in knowing that he felt comfortable and safe in her presence. Well, comfortable enough to get lost in the labyrinth of his own mind.

His company was always welcome, and now, as he seemed lost in thought, she moved to her stack of bags. Among them, she recalled a bag of dried fruit and berries lovingly prepared by Halsin for the group. "Damn, what a sweetheart," she mused to herself, the affection for their companion evident in her expression.

Tav began to munch on the dried fruits, savouring the familiar taste of one of her favourite snacks. She decided to share a childhood memory with Astarion, seeking to connect with him in a more casual manner.

"You know what, Astarion?" she began, and suddenly Astarion perked his elf ears like a curious little cat. Tav’s voice content as she savoured another dried fruit. "When I was little and had a nightmare, my mom would give me a sweet fruit or a spoonful of honey."

Astarion opened his mouth, likely intending to deflect and try to change the topic, but Tav continued, "The taste of something I loved so much—which is sweet things—would distract me enough to calm my nerves down."

Astarion’s eyes sparkled with a suggestion he noted was in Tav’s voice. He met her gaze and smiled mischievously.

Finishing her bag of snacks, Tav made a mental note to ask Halsin to prepare another bag of dried fruits and berries for her in the future. "How about you have a snack?" Tav suggested playfully, winking at him. "Then you can go back to your meditative sleep." Her hand gently caressed Astarion's cheek, her thumb tracing soothing patterns. Scooting a bit closer to Astarion, she spoke in a soft, almost conspiratorial tone. "You deserve as much rest as I do."

"Does that sound like a good plan?" Tav said, her fingers deftly working at the buttons of her shirt's collar.

Astarion felt a rush of emotion. He understood that Tav's gesture was born of genuine kindness, but it was still an unfamiliar sensation for him. He wasn't accustomed to people being kind solely out of the goodness of their hearts, without any ulterior motives.

In a moment of panic, he reached out and gently clasped her hands. His voice quivered slightly as he spoke, "Darling, you don't have to..." He cleared his throat, trying to infuse his words with a touch of reassurance. "I'm fully capable of sustaining myself."

"Of course you are," Tav reassured him gently, her hands still resting in his. She wanted to convey that this was her way of showing care, not a gesture of charity.

"But you can also take a little sip of your favorite travel companion," Tav added with a playful wiggle of her eyebrows. Astarion couldn't help but laugh in response.

"I mean, you are free to do whatever you want," Tav continued, her tone light. "You were eyeing that gilt that was strolling around our camp. Looks like she won over me." Tav shooed Astarion away in a theatrical manner. "Go and cater to your new lady."

Astarion played along with Tav's playful banter, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Why, dearest," he chimed in, "How could I help myself? That gilt looked exceptionally scrumptious." He added a cheeky wiggle of his own eyebrows, and they both burst out laughing.

After a few minutes of shared laughter, Tav let out a contented yawn. She then looked at Astarion with genuine sincerity. "But for real, Astarion. I'm offering, and you know you don't have to do anything 'in return'." Her words carried a warmth and openness that put Astarion at ease.

He sighed softly, deciding on his following actions. He reached out to Tav and his fingers started deftly unbuttoning the first two buttons of Tav's nightshirt. "Alright then," Astarion murmured in a playful tone, "scoot onto your bedroll, darling. I want you relaxed and ready." Tav rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smile that tugged at her lips. She complied with the request, settling onto her bedroll.

Astarion positioned himself above her, crouching so that his face was nestled into the crook of her neck. The closeness sent a shiver down Tav's spine, a mixture of anticipation and the comforting presence of someone she trusted deeply.

Tav's fingers gently threaded through Astarion's hair, their touch sending a comforting sensation through him. As he inhaled her familiar scent, he felt a sense of calm wash over him. In that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their shared intimacy.

Her fragrance was intoxicating, a heady mixture of earthy warmth and a hint of something uniquely Tav. Astarion couldn't help but surrender to the allure of it, reveling in the closeness they shared. He nuzzled against her neck, his breath mingling with her skin. The sensation was both grounding and electrifying, a connection that transcended words.

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CHAPTERS

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

#baldur’s gate 3 fic #astarion fics #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion comfort #astarion hurt #astarion fic #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion fanfic #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion x f!tav #astarion x female tav #astarion angst #bg3 oc #oc: tav #bg3 tav #coffeeanddonutscafe #coffeeanddonutscafefanfic #astarion pov

[jawanaka]

WIP WED

I was tagged by @poetikat so hopefully this will give me kick in the ass to write more:

Working on the sequel on my HOTD fic, amking this a proper AU verse:

As the sun is setting on the royal capital and the traitor’s heads have yet to begun to fester above the gate, the prince who might one day be king climbs a staircase in the Red Keep towards the royal apartments, looking for a princess who might have been queen.

He finds her in her solar, her embroidery lit by the last rays of the setting sun that falls through the tall windows. It is the only light in the chamber and belatedly he realizes that they have refused them their servants, for security and isolation.

The hinges are well oiled and so he has made little sound when he entered and without servants there is no one to announce him and his soft calfskin boots make little sound. For a moment he stands absurdly frozen, not knowing what to say (how do people not followed by servants and guards at every moment speak?).

The light follows the gleaming point of the needle as it weaves in and out of the fabric held stiff against the frame. It looks like some sort of insect, a spider perhaps (his boyhood maester would scold him) its leaks leaping across the white background.

He clears his throat. The princess jumps up from where she was sitting, almost dropping her work as she spins.

“Oh,” she says, “sorry you startled me.”

“Its my fault,” he answers lamely, “I should have…knocked, or something.”

“Yes you should have, I mean, yes, your grace.” She finds herself there and even curtsies, stiffly, as if unsure whether it is the right thing to do.

He isn’t certain either. He looks towards the cold candles for a moment, eight large silver candelabras standing along the edges of the room. She misunderstands his intention and says, “my mo- I mean the queen, is sleeping. She took milk of the poppy, to be rested for the morrow.”

A small frown of the prince’s brow, “I didn’t know we still a maester available?” Certainly it cannot been the old one, for his head is above the gates at this very moment.

“Oh they keep some around. For me, when I have dreams. They think it helps.” She gestures towards a cabinet at the other side of her receiving room. “I find it makes it worse but they don’t seem to listen.” She shrugs in the gloom.

“I see.” He walks past her, picks up a small piece of steel and flint out of a copper jar, strikes a single long match. The flame burns, tiny at first, the strong and one by one he begins lighting the candelabras along the walls, one, two, three.

The princess smiles at him. “Thank you, that is most kind.”

He doffs his head, politely, “Fire is our element. Our element.” As the fourth candelabra is being lit he suddenly remembers his purpose. “I’m sorry my lady,” he says as he turns towards her, “but my real reason for being here was to apologize-”

“For grandfather?” she asks. For a moment her body seems to shake, as if suppressing an emotion, “He was always kind to me, believe it or not.”

“I believe. I noticed at the feast the other night, thats why I came.” My grandmother order his death and the kings justice struck off his head and spiked it for the whole city to see, he thinks. “There has been no news of your brother either.”

She smiles sadly, “He will have gone to the sea by now.”

“Pardon?”

She’s still smiling, “My brother, my grandfather…you don’t need to apologize. I saw it.” The timbre of her voices changes ever so slightly, “The highest tower and the deepest seas, anguish and fire can only be quenched by water.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

For moment she almost looks older then her ten-and-seven. “I saw it. I tried to tell them but they never listened. Not even Aemond.” She shakes her head ruefully and shake again. He stands uselessly, the match slowly burning down towards his fingers, his weak blood noticing the heat.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Don’t be. You cannot change the future.” A small whining cry is heard from beyond one of the doors, “They allowed me my nursemaid at least but I should see to the children. Good evening your highness.” And without a bow and without another word she turns and disappears into one of the rooms, leaving him alone in the half-lit room, the sun now firmly setting over the city.

“Good night Heleana,” he says, more to himself then to anyone else.

Tomorrow the Queen will arrive.

Tagging @herbalinz-of-yesteryear, @kuwdora, @elleinmotion, @bittersweetbark, @frances-the-red, @cahirdyffryns, @squiddviscous, @powerofadyingsun and anyone else I might've forgotten

#wip wednesday #tag game #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #heleana targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen

[pbandjesse]

Exhaustion just hit me like a ton of bricks. I laid down to write this and my body was just like oh awesome sleep time!!! Ridiculous. That's alright it was a good day and I feel happy.

Even if this morning was tough! I slept alright and woke up at 715. I got dressed and felt alright. I wore my new scarf coat and thought I would be cozy. But I was only partially right.

It was a little drizzly this morning but that would clear up quickly and then it was just wildly windy. And so I had to spend the whole morning cold and fighting against the wind which always makes me exhausted.

James helped me set up and I really enjoyed seeing my market friends. Ginny and her husband Craig were back. Craig's 95 year old mother passed away, and they will be gone again to speak at her funeral next week. She lived a long and happy life, but I am said for Craig. It is always to soon to lose your mom.

I didn't sell much but it was fine. I enjoyed chatting with people and working on my little embroidery project.

But man was I cold. Stanley would come out and put down almost all of the sides and it helped but it was still rough. Sometimes the gusts would throw people's signs and knock the sides out of their tracks. It would be startling but thankfully no one was hurt.

My frogs kept falling off the table. But I didn't lose anything. I sold a froggies and a pig. A few stickers. I had nice conversations and tried to remain positive. But I was cold and the wind was killing me a bit.

I would go inside and visited James and warm up. We had gone over to Ginny to buy some baked goods but she also gave us a bag of leftovers which was very much appreciated. We have so many baked goods between her and me going to the Dutch market. It was nice to just hug in James for a few minutes.

1 o'clock could not come fast enough. I was so tired. Both in general and of fighting the wind. I enjoyed chatting with Ann, Helen and Rod, teasing about his apparently secret girlfriend. Those last couple minutes went so slowly. But right before 1 I packed up. Shared a donut with Stanley. And put everything in the car.

I went inside to hug on James. I had to wait a few minutes while they helped some guests. And then went home.

It took longer then normal. No idea why. I got back before 130. The apartment smelled bad again!! It is just by the kitchen and I was just like. I have to solve this.

So I would spend about an hour cleaning

I double bagged the trash and cleaned the trashcan. I put it in the bathtub and used very hot water and cleaned and the water turned brown. Gross. I scrubbed the whole thing and a few things came out of the bottom. So when I was draining the can I picked up the gross little pieces of trash. And you won't believe what I found. James's engagement ring! The first one! Because James had 3 over the year we were engaged. James was so excited and I'm so happy we were able to get that back to them.

I would finish cleaning. I vacuumed and swiffered and was able to wedge the broken window open a crack to get some air over there. And it helped. When I got back at 9 tonight there was no more bad smell. Yay.

I got cleaned up and put on a big Tshirt and laid down.

I would sleep until 430. Very strong and active dreams. It took me a minute to gather myself. But I would get up and got redressed.

And then James was home! I wasn't sure we would cross paths. But we did and I would try on all of my sweaters before I gave them a smooch and headed out.

I went to the museum for the wedding. And it was so nice to see Joel. It was apparently the first wedding he had ever worked. I would give him so tips. But I wasn't worried about him. He's an amazing educator and just a smart cookie. I also got to meet the new Jesse who is taking over Angie's position when she retires at the end of the year. He's a nice guy! I am pretend mad there is a new Jesse but he seems like he's going to be good at the job, I hope for the best with him.

I had a lot of fun tonight. I was slightly disappointed that it wasn't print like I thought. But I had fun in the garment loft. I had some excellent conversations. It was actually pretty busy! Consistent. And I had fun just telling stories and working on my embroidery. People were just really nice and even though I was missing dinner at topside I was still having a good time.

The timeline was different then we had been told originally so dinner was at 7 and not 730. So at 730 Angie said we could leave. I called James and asked if they were done dinner and they said I could come through and join them for dessert.

So that's exactly what I did. James would meet me outside to help me find a parking spot and we went up and I was excited to see Margot. She is my favorite of the cousins for sure. We talk the most. And she brought us all crystals! She got me two tiny ones, a turquoise and a grey one I'm not sure what it is but I will instigate further. James got lapis lazuli! Very cool!

Me and Margot both got a very sour passion fruit Panna Cotta. Which she loved, and j thought would be better with whipped cream. But it was also just nice to see Anne and Tucker and James aunt and I'm really glad I was able to get over there to see them.

We would take a group picture outside. And then hugs and goodbye. Me and James went and got their bike and loaded that on the car and headed home. Lots of dumb drivers but we made it home in one piece.

When we got back I was super happy there was no bad smell anymore. I held Sweetp. We fed him some of a cookie. I went and got a shower after getting rid of some small eggs in the frog tank.

And now we are in bed. And I'm really ready to sleep. I'm hoping to have a nice little morning doing some organizing. Then I'll go pick up me and Celia's pottery!! I'll go to awah. And do more clay there. And then Callie is coming over. Possibly Margot and Charlotte will join us. Either way it'll be a nice day.

Sleep well everyone. Have a nice day tomorrow.

[lorelei-merridew]

With: @smoothwhiskeymicah When: November 2023

Lorelei had closed the salon for the afternoon, not having any appointments and hating to waste the final sunny days inside. Violet was at school still, probably staying behind with friends and she had no idea what Aspen might be up to, letting her handle her own life for now since that was what she had wanted for herself. Not wanting to bother any of her friends and unable to go see her lover due to them not speaking now for so long, it seemed as it had been ages, she had the day to herself.

Dressed in one of her favorite pairs of jeans and having thrown on her jean jacket that she liked to test new patterns for embroidery on, looking more like a composition of art than a clothing piece, she went to the coffee shop for a cup of coffee with the idea of just enjoying the sun in the park, maybe starting up a conversation with a familiar face which she was bound to run into. She was walking down the streets, not quite as bustling as they would be soon once more people got off work, but still pretty busy, something she loved about this city.

She had her usual smile on her face, an accessory that she rarely didn't wear, and was nodding at people as she passed them for a hello when something made her trip, managing to only spill coffee on her hand and not fall or push anyone else. As she regained balance she stood in a weird position of holding her hand out as to not spill on her clothes and one leg further than the other, needing a few more seconds to come back to her senses as she stared at what could only be described as a ghost haunting her. In her life she had never truly believed in ghosts or the supernatural until ten years ago when she had become what she was now today and then later when her daughter turned out to be a witch and they had moved to this magical city. So the idea of ghosts, in fact, did not seem that strange or foreign.

And if it were a ghost to haunt her, of course it would be her father, the guilt of his death still on her head, sometimes clouding her thoughts in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep and she would go through all the mistakes and downfalls of her life and go in circles of the ways it could have been different had she taken different decisions at certain times. So as she finally got herself together again, letting her lips widen in what was now more of a nervous smile she slowly walked towards the person with the familiar face, wondering if with Halloween happening recently maybe something had been unleashed. "Hello..." she said, walking closer to the man who had seemingly stopped to look at something, perhaps lost or perhaps waiting for her to react, if it was in fact a ghost from her past.

At close inspection, it was not a perfect match with her memories, but then again her father had died... close to 20 years ago. How much could she trust her memory on that?

#p:micah #micah01

[druggeddraccus]

today was kinda lazy. i went out shopping this morning with my mom and she did more gardening. i got to open my gift from ashley (it’s a build-your-own booknook—it’s super freaking cute it has so many pieces though lol) i also played minecraft with ash and geoff and that was fun

took a nap made dinner with my parents and i got new embroidery hoops so now i can properly patch the holes in my jeans

i love the fit of these jeans but always hated the holes in the knees (i would always rip them and get it caught everywhere) still needs a lot of work but it’s slowly coming along

now it’s getting late and i have work tomorrow night but i think i’ll play some of subnautica and then read a bit of frugal wizard before i go to bed

#2023 dayss #april 4 2023 #jordyn’s journal

[serenitymasonbcufashion]

for my final outcome I opted out of producing a board and instead created a wrap skirt that tells the story of my transition. Using a range of techniques I created a piece that conveys my narrative of transition through the use of primary research imagery. for the ease of explanation I will run through my piece from left to right.

starting with a darker side of this piece, the black butterfly wing shows the beginning of my transition. I used a piece from screen printing where I attempted a print onto leather but it came out very faded, although not my intended outcome I later worked this to my advantage when I discovered a link between the fading colours and my feelings prior to transitioning, a feeling like I was slowly fading but still trying to keep that colour vibrant inside me. I sewed this sample onto the panel using some straight stitch. following on from that same emotional conveyance I used a metallic silver thread to create a series of shapes on the wing, I tried to create a cracking heart. symbolic of my time in the closet struggling to be able to express who I truly am. next I used some leather fabric to create some neat pleating, forming waves across the fabric and giving it some more volume. the pleats express the ups and downs of my early transition and that it was not a smooth transition initially.

next I used some weave to create a set of unique samples that I backed with canvas and applied as patches, starting with the top example it uses a series of weaved chains against a black yarn to show the cage I felt trapped within, no colour, no hope. I then used some more colours in the second sample but this time it interweaves with the symbolic transgender flag colours. This shows a time in my transition where I was starting to chip away at the walls around me, finding myself through the cracks. the third sample shows full colour vibrancy, no cage or restrictions to be seen. it represents a victorious statement to me breaking free from my metaphorical restraints and truly becoming who I always had wanted to be. these weave samples were really interesting to produce as they gave me lots of ways to tell a story through colour and feel. the fact the chains sit as a three dimensional material and can be felt physically by observation of the senses gives my weaves a new angle to convey the story of me.

Following on from this I used sublimation printing in a repeated segmented pattern to show a clear display of my more physical transition. it goes from a very faded image to a very vibrant repeat below. This shows me coming to be, how transition can be shown in print and how repeated imagery can tell a different story just by being slightly faded or presented differently.

Next I used some very iconic colours from the transgender flag to recreate the motion and flow of a flag flying against the wind. I created some inter directional pleats to show the movement of the flag and decorated it with some braiding to give it vibrancy and avoidance of a flat fabric.

for the end of this piece I used another butterfly wing, that when wrapped around interlocks with the other wing as a wearable skirt. for this section I displayed my transition in full, it combines a use of applique, reverse applique and various embroidery techniques. using some screen prints from earlier in my work I sewed them amongst my embroidered out shapes, this gives some vibrant colour against the white backing. For the reverse applique I used a faded out primary image and cut away at the front butterfly panel to show this image through the gaps, I peeled back the ripped fabric and stitched it down to create more abstracted wing shapes with less definition. To give the piece even more colour I embroidered in some confetti used from another technique I used at the beginning of the project that resembles rag rugs.

[snakesandshanti]

I just wanted to reintroduce myself for those of you when are new to Snakes and Shanti and for those that have been here awhile. I wanted to share a some intimate photos and some background story for you to better connect with Snakes and Shanti. My names Shanti; my parents names me Mary but I chose to change my name 2 years ago as I never felt like Mary was my name. I was born in Australia, my Dad is Nepalese and my Mother is of Welsh roots. I spent most of time between Nepal and Australia in my youngest years. My most profound memories lay within the moments spent in Nepal. My parents separated when I was 5. After that I only visited Nepal one time when I was 9. After that I didn’t go back until I was a grown woman at the age of 28. ❤️‍🩹Reconnecting with my family in Nepal after 20 years of being apart has opened so many doors within my heart and soul. I always felt there was a part of me missing.✨ Going home in 2017 healed me in so many ways and this lead me to start the creation of Snakes and Shanti 🇳🇵A big part of my heart and spirit will always be in Nepal. I will be finally be heading back there this year and I cannot wait to share my heart opening experience with you all. Being one of the poorest’s countries in the world, It’s really important for me to be supporting Nepalese people as I know how hard life there can be there. During the c-ovid lockdown Nepalese people really suffered with the lack of tourism which is their biggest source of income. For instance the talented artist Ashad’s, sews all of the beautiful embroidery, has a family of 7 to support. During the pandemi-c the sustaining work he had was just through the purchases you made via Snakes and Shanti. Very slowly the tourists are returning to Nepal but it’s still far from being back to where it was. I can’t wait to go back and grow Snakes and Shanti with you all and show you so much more of Ashad and all of the wonderful artists who create the pieces you love. Thank you for being here and reading my letter ❤️ I wish to continue to spread love, connection and awareness that we are ALL ONE 🫶🏽🦋❣️ (at In My Heart ♥) https://www.instagram.com/p/CglE_YVvytw/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Yooo idk if anyone's noticed my absence lately, but I'm on... semi-haitus while I live as a feral creature in the forest

Please enjoy these pictures of flowers in the meantime (in lieu of any content you've been following me for)

#it's spring so I'm living in the garden until it gets too hot and/or I burn out #i haven't touched any of my fics in over a week ;_; #I'm spending a good 8 hours a day outside most of the time #there's been hardly any rain this year that would give me an inside-hobbies break #still slowly working on a new embroidery piece... slowly

[fizzydrink698]

consort iv | minho

pairing: lee minho x reader

word count: 7.8k

genre: historical au, arranged marriage au, enemies-to-lovers

warnings: period-typical sexism, discussions of sex, pregnancy and childbirth, an incredibly awkward tea party, minho and reader sure like to get all close and intense when arguing

summary:

There were a hundred questions still burning in your mind when you looked at Minho, and you longed to just hold him down and force the answers out of him. You were tired, it was late, and you were just so sick of games.

So, when Minho began to turn towards the door, you took a step forward without thinking – catching him off-guard.

The words that slipped out of your mouth were not ones you expected. 

You never expected married life to be so…boring.

It had been a week since your wedding night, and Minho hadn’t made a single move to invite you into his chambers. You woke up alone, you spent the day alone, you went to bed alone. You had no responsibilities, no lessons, nothing to fill your time with. You couldn’t even start up a rapport with the servants around you – now that you were part of the royal family, attendants seemed to swap in and out at a moment’s notice.

You wondered what they were saying, after seeing you spend your days alone. You wondered how often the subject of your marriage came up, how often it was discussed.

It didn’t matter much, in the grand scheme of things, you supposed. But it made you a little more wary, a little more self-conscious.

With nothing else to do, you tried to throw yourself into a new interest – with little success.

Embroidery kept your hands busy, but your mind would wander almost as soon as you started a new piece. You would think of Minho, of his appalling behaviour, of what you could have possibly done to offend him. And before you knew it, you found yourself barely a few stitches in, needle hovering over the fabric for the last twenty minutes.

Horse-riding had disappointed you. You had adored it as a child, delighted when the warmer months came and you were permitted to ride around outside. You’d had such romantic thoughts of setting out on a horse, speeding through the grounds, leaving your cares in the dust. The reality was a slow, menial trot, accompanied by royal guards, dragged on by a silence that only grew with each passing second. You realised that much of your childhood love for riding had stemmed from the talkative boy at your side, shouting excitedly about anything that sprang to mind.

So, here you were. Standing in the grounds, easel set up in front of you, a palette in your hands. Art was supposed to be relaxing, wasn’t it? Delicate work that required great eye for detail and total concentration.

And patience. Lots of patience.

Patience you did not possess at all.

The greens were too cold, the yellows too garish. You were trying to paint the scenic view of the palace lake in the soft morning light, but your hands were too clumsy, your brushstrokes too broad and constantly misplaced. Instead of gently fading into each other, your colours stood bold against each other, harsh and discordant.

The more you worked, the more frustrated you got – and when your hand slipped, dripping green paint onto the placid blue of the lake water, an angry noise – half-scoff, half-growl – forced itself out of your throat and you hurled your palette onto the floor.

This was pointless, this was all pointless. You were just wasting your time, forced to keep maddeningly idle while the rest of the palace seemed to avoid you like the plague.

You couldn’t even muster up a sense of embarrassment at the scene you had made in front of your guards. All you felt was anger, boiling in your veins, curdling in your gut as you glared at the paint splattered across the grass.

You were just so…

Slowly, the anger drained from your body, leaving behind a numbness that hollowed you out. With barely a second thought, you sank to your knees, and then with a sigh, dropped to your back.

The sky above you was a dismal shade of grey. Summer was approaching, but it had not yet cleared the clouds away.

You were so…bored.

Everything just seemed so trivial. A waste of your time – your seemingly unending free time – and your patience. You had spent your whole life working towards something – marriage, a household of your own to run, an estate to manage.

Now, you were just…stagnant. You existed in this strange liminal space between ‘too important to allow enough freedom’ and ‘not important enough to handle responsibilities’.

A week ago, you determined that you wanted power. Days later, you still found yourself at a loss on how to get it.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You knew one option – you’d even had the smallest taste of it. For just a second, on your wedding night, you had power over Minho. There was power in sex, there was influence, there was the opportunity to bind yourself to Minho.

But apparently, you wouldn’t be given that opportunity again any time soon. Was it because Minho had recognised that too? Was he suspicious of your motives?

There was something almost reassuring in that idea. It was easier to stomach being rejected because you were feared. That was better than the alternative. Being rejected because you were unwanted.

As you continued to lay there in thought, your guards apparently grew more and more perturbed – understandably, since you were lying prone in complete silence, staring blankly at the sky. You’d probably be feeling the same in their shoes.

One of them worked up the courage to speak, his tone cautious. “Your Highness?”

“I’m fine,” you replied immediately, making no attempt to move. “…I’m just tired.”

This seemed to reassure him. “Would you like to return to your chambers?”

“…No,” you said, simply.

You were expecting – hoping – for some kind of response. Confusion? Maybe some gentle admonishment? You used to have guards that would scold you for catching a cold, or skinning your knees, or running off out of sight.

Instead, there was silence. You supposed that no one liked to argue with a princess.

You returned to your thoughts.

Power. If Minho didn’t allow you into his bedchambers, how else could you get it? What else could occupy your mind, and stop these awful stretches of boredom?

You thought of what made you feel powerless. Minho was the immediate, painful thought that sprang to mind, and you pushed it away. Something else. Anything else.

And then, you thought of that dinner, the day after your wedding. The conversations the king tried to start with Minho, the references to politics and people and places that mostly flew right over your head.

An idea slowly began to take root.

Something to occupy your mind. The answer had been there all along.

You bolted up to a seated position, thoughts suddenly racing. It was as if that one spark of an idea had set off a blaze in your mind, spreading far too rapidly to be contained. After days of idle nothingness, your mind was engulfed in half-formed plans, excitement coursing through your veins.

Finally, you knew exactly what you wanted to do with your time.

The only obstacle, you realised, would be Minho.

But you supposed that wasn’t anything new.

Launching yourself to your feet, you surprised your guards with your sudden flurry of movement. Even more so when your head snapped around to stare at them with a sudden, burning impatience.

“Minho,” you said, disregarding his formal titles entirely. They knew exactly who you meant. “Where is he?”

The guards stared back at you in silence. Your mind was too wired to gauge whether it was confusion or reluctance that stopped them from answering.

Your jaw clenched. You wouldn’t back down now, before you’d even started.

Power.

“Answer me,” you demanded, glancing from face to face. “I know you guard the royal family as a whole. You rotate in and out far too often to only be assigned to me. Surely one of you knows Minho’s schedule.”

You folded your arms over your chest, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “If not, I’ll be spending the day combing through that palace until I find him anyway. You’d just be saving me and yourselves some time.”

There was a pause.

And then, at long last, one guard spoke. “…His Highness usually takes late morning tea in his office.”

You straightened up, satisfied. “Thank you. I suppose you can guess where you’ll be escorting me next, can’t you?”

The guard was right. You entered Minho’s office – a large room, hidden away on the third floor at the end of a corridor – to find Minho sat at an enormous desk stacked high with paperwork, sipping tea from a delicate, embossed cup.

Your entrance seemed to surprise him, judging by the way his head snapped towards the door the second you arrived.

Propriety urged you to go through the motions of greeting him properly with your head bowed low. It was to no one’s benefit – Minho was entirely alone, even his guards were posted outside the room. If you wanted, you could dismiss protocol entirely and hurl insults at him, with no witnesses.

But there was a petty delight you took in granting Minho the respect he didn’t grant you. A subtle reminder of his rudeness, how easily you could take the high road and be the better person.

So, you bowed deeply, with all the pleasantness you could muster, before you voiced your demand. “I want a tutor.”

Minho stared at you for a moment, perhaps still stunned by your dramatic entrance, before carefully setting his cup down. “How strange. I’ve never heard a greeting like that before.”

You rankled at his dismissive tone, pulling yourself up to your full height. “Oh, my apologies, Your Highness. Good morning to you, may your fortune be great and your good health everlasting,” you said, disdain seeping into your tone despite your syupy words. “I would like a tutor.”

Minho tilted his head, eyeing you – and for a moment, you almost caught a sliver of amusement in his gaze – before he pushed himself up to his feet with a sigh, strolling around his desk to come to a stop at its front, facing you. Leaning back against the edge of the desk, Minho brought his arms up to fold over his chest – and you hated that your eyes caught on that long line of his legs, clad in another pair of riding breeches. Surely they had to be uncomfortable, clinging to his limbs so tightly like that.

“Why do you want a tutor?” Minho asked, and your eyes darted up to his face immediately, aware that you had lingered far too long on his thighs. But if Minho had noticed, there was no trace of it in his expression – a good sign, as you imagined Minho would be irritatingly smug in that situation.

“Boredom,” you said, matching his disinterested tone. “I don’t do well without something to occupy my mind.”

“I see,” Minho replied – and, to your surprise, the corner of his mouth twitched, as if he were hiding a smirk. “So, I take it that art wasn’t a diverting enough pastime for you?”

You blinked, caught off-guard. You’d shown no interest in painting before today, and had only requested an easel and canvas this morning. How had news travelled so quickly?

You almost missed the way Minho’s gaze flickered to the window, almost imperceptibly. When you followed his look, glancing out the window, you were hit with a sudden realisation.

Right there, out in the gardens, in plain view through the window, was the distant sight of your easel – half-painted canvas still propped up on the frame.

He had seen your outburst, probably laughed at the way you had thrown your palette like an impatient child.

Your gaze snapped back to him, face heating. The moment he caught your expression, Minho’s lips finally curled up into a smirk, abandoning any attempt to suppress it.

You gritted your teeth. “It didn’t suit me.”

“Not much does, apparently.”

“Learning does,” you argued, and you found yourself taking a step forward, eager for a confrontation. “I was always a good student.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Minho replied, but that damned smirk was still on his face, as if betraying his true thoughts.

It irritated you. Minho irritated you.

“And I need something to do,” you pressed. “If nothing else is going to fill my nights, why not education?”

Minho’s smirk faded. That was a dig, and not a particularly subtle one, but it felt good to get a reaction out of him.

It was a shame that he recovered so quickly.

“I’m surprised,” he noted, voice tinged with ice, “that you feel the need for a tutor at all. I was under the impression that your education was the main reason you were considered fit for me at all.”

Fit for him.

Anger coiled in you like a venomous snake, poisoning your insides, leaving you sick. Hurting. Ready to lash out.

“It was lacking,” you said, coldly. “And so are you.”

Minho stilled for a moment, frozen, before pushing himself away from his desk. His back was ramrod straight, as he drew up to every inch of his full height, and took one deliberate step towards you.

“Is that your opinion of me?” Minho asks, raising an eyebrow. His eyes are cold. “Lacking?”

If he was attempting to intimidate you, he was failing miserably. You were so caught up in your own anger that he could order your execution and you would still laugh and spit in his face as you were dragged out the door. Minho didn’t scare you. He could never scare you again.

You squared up to him, utterly fearless.

“You haven’t spoken to me in a week,” you hissed. “You refuse to spend any amount of time with me. Yes, I find you lacking.”

“You’ve never been particularly eager for my company before now. Are you so bored that you’re demanding I entertain you?”

“I doubt you could entertain me if you tried,” you retorted, just to be petty. The words were paltry, meaningless, but you needed something to sling back at him, just to avoid feeling so powerless.

Minho didn’t even bat an eye. “If that’s the case, far be it from me to take up any more of your valuable time. I’d hate to bore you even further.”

You blinked, realising you’d handed him the victory quite by accident. There was no clever way to manoeuvre out of this, no witty wordplay to wield like a blade against him.

The only weapon you had left in your arsenal was anger – one that forced honesty up your throat, as blunt as a cudgel. Without even thinking, the words came spilling out.

“Why do you want it to be like this, Minho?”

He paused. Maybe he wasn’t expecting this from you. Or maybe he’d only just noticed how close the two of you had drawn together.

He tried to step back, but you pressed onwards, stepping forward to enter into his space once more, trapping him between his own desk and your frame.

You wouldn’t back down now. You couldn’t, honestly, because it felt like the floodgates had opened and the questions that had been building up inside you for the last week could not be contained again.

“I…I’m trying,” you admitted. “But I just don’t understand why this is the marriage you want. Never speaking, never together? Sleeping alone in different rooms for the rest of our lives? Why is that what you want?”

Minho stared down at you, dumbfounded. He didn’t seem to have an answer for you. From the looks of things, he didn’t seem to have an answer for himself.

Instead, after a long moment of silence, Minho swallowed. “…I’ll look into a tutor for you.”

A tutor.

Right.

You’d almost forgotten.

He brushed past you, returning to his seat behind the desk – allowing it to serve as the perfect physical barrier separating the two of you. In an instant, Minho was calm, composed. He reached for his teacup. “Is there anything else you need?”

You were left standing in his wake, reeling from your own emotional outburst.

You didn’t like this feeling, this awful vulnerability, like you’d been skinned and left raw to face the freezing elements. You hated that only Minho seemed to be able to bring it out in you.

“No,” you said, finally. And because there was an opportunity, a sudden chance to twist the knife, you added. “There’s nothing else I require from you.”

The word was sharp, biting – and, to your horror, you realised the memory of it still stung. You could hear the echoes of Minho’s dismissal, and the way it had left you feeling foolish.

You were almost disappointed with yourself, for still letting it affect you like this.

Minho hesitated, eyes back on you and fixed there. It took you a moment to register that there was a strange…softness there, just a glimpse of it, before it was gone in the blink of an eye.

When he finally spoke, his tone was dry. Rehearsed.

Minho was a blunt man, ignorant to the feelings of others. You imagined he was well-versed in the art of the empty apology.

“If I offended you, I–”

You scoffed, interrupting him almost immediately. “If you offended me?”

“…That wasn’t my intention,” he said, glancing away.

He said it like it was supposed to fix everything, as if it were some kind of dramatic, heartfelt apology.

You weren’t impressed. “How reassuring. All is forgiven.”

Minho rolled his eyes at your tone, which you thought was rather hypocritical. Sarcasm seemed to drip from every other sentence he uttered. “I’m not sure what else you want from me, but–”

“Maybe I want my future king to consider his words better. Even if his intentions are good.”

Minho laughed – a cold, disbelieving laugh that seemed to choke him – at that. “Yes. What could I possibly know about considering my words?”

“Apparently, very little.”

“You’re one to talk.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Am I? And yet, somehow, I’ve managed to avoid offending you this whole time we’ve been married.”

Minho’s jaw tightened. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

You blinked, brow furrowing, and you were ready to press him on this – to determine when exactly he had been so terribly insulted – when the door to Minho’s office suddenly swung open.

You turned, sharply, to see a vaguely familiar nobleman, well-dressed and sporting a carefully groomed beard. It took you a second to place a name to the face. Lord Young, a member of the royal council. You had briefly attended harp lessons with one of his daughters, when you were a child.

His eyes flicker between you and Minho. There was an amusement in his gaze, and you found yourself gritting your teeth.

He turned to Minho, lightly asking. “Am I interrupting?”

“No,” Minho declared.

“Yes,” you snapped, at the very same moment.

Lord Young only smiled, amusement growing. “Ah. Marital bliss.”

You bristled. A lifetime of etiquette lessons were the only thing stopping you from retorting, from exploding at him.

Instead, you plastered on a polite smile, and looked back at Minho to bow your head. “Until later, Your Highness.”

Minho kept his gaze on you, even as Lord Young made his way further into the room. “…Apparently so.”

You were about to leave, when you caught it. The briefest flicker in Lord Young’s gaze, as his eyes darted from Minho, to you, to Minho again. You would just dismiss it as amusement, as intrigue after hearing so many rumours about your tumultuous marriage.

But there was something just…slightly off. Lord Young wasn’t watching a lovers’ spat. It was as if he were a chess player, surveying the board.

It was a look that stuck with you the rest of the day, gnawing at you long after you left Minho’s office.

The next day, you received the grim news.

Your mother wished to join you for afternoon tea.

Rumours of your estrangement from Minho had to have reached her by now. You hoped that this tea would be a chance for her to reassure you, to console you and gently guide you towards a solution for your troubles.

You were sure, in her mind, that was what she was doing.

That knowledge didn’t do much to settle your nerves when you entered the solarium that afternoon, to see your mother seated at the table, perfectly poised in her mint-green finery, awaiting your arrival with the sternest glare you’d seen in years. In a moment, you had reverted back to your nine-year-old self, shivering in your mud-stained gown, about to be scolded for playing in the river with Felix and giving the young prince a terrible cold.

“Mother,” you greeted, trying your best to smile. “It’s lovely to see you. It’s been…too long.”

“It could have been sooner,” your mother sniffed, but she still bows her head towards you in greeting. “Your steward kept me waiting days for a response. How busy must the man be if he can’t arrange a simple request for tea with your own mother?”

You blinked.

In times past, your mother would simply summon you every time she wished to speak with you. Afternoon teas were at her whim, not yours.

You outranked her now, you suddenly realised. By virtue of your marriage to Minho. You outranked her and your father.

You weren’t sure what to do with this new information. You weren’t even sure how to handle this information.

So, you pushed it to one side, and took your seat next to your mother.

The spread in front of you was light, delicate, perfect for a mid-afternoon snack. The attendant poured your tea for you, and for a moment, the two of you sat in silence. Once upon a time, it would have been comfortable. Now, you felt on edge, self-conscious, as if your mother was waiting for you to speak – as if every second of silence that passed was another mark against you.

“You look well,” you murmured, politely, taking a sip of your tea.

“Thank you. As do you,” she responded. She reached for her own cup, eyeing you while she did so. “Have you been sleeping well?”

“Yes,” you replied, instinctively – and the resulting frown that appeared on your mother’s face made you realise the mistake you’d just made.

Yes, she had heard. The royal newlyweds, sleeping in separate chambers.

“And I’ve taken to walking in the mornings,” you hurried to add. “The air is quite refreshing.”

“Alone?”

“With guards.”

“Hmm.”

…This might actually be torture, you mused, looking down at your cup.

Your mother wasted no more time, setting down her cup. “And how is His Highness?”

It took everything in you not to make a face. “…Fine.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is he?”

You stilled, and despite your better judgement, you couldn’t help but retort. “Probably. I’d have to ask someone to make sure.”

Your mother’s face turned grim, and your stomach turned at the unimpressed frown being aimed squarely at you and your boldness. “Darling.”

“Mother,” you muttered.

“People are talking,” she hissed, serious, as if this news was utterly disastrous.

“I’m sure they are.”

“Don’t be glib,” she warned, severe. “You’re not in a position to afford that.”

You wanted to snipe back the first reply that sprang to mind – that your new position as princess afforded you quite a lot of new, shiny things.

But your mother had never appreciated your sense of humour.

“I know,” you said, instead. It was only half insincere.

She sighed, and this at least was a little more familiar. Not angry, or concerned. Exasperated, as if you were still a child, refusing to attend her dancing lessons.

As if you were a nuisance, taking up her time, inconveniencing everyone.

You were starting to get sick of that feeling.

“What did you do?” She asked, and you turned indignant.

Of course it had to be something you had done.

The blame was on you. Not Minho. Never Minho.

“Nothing at all,” you stated, taking a bite of your food. It went some way towards settling your stomach, but not at all your nerves.

“Darling–”

“This salmon is so very fresh,” you noted, contemplating the delicate fish on your plate. “I must ask someone how–”

“I’m not here to discuss salmon with you,” your mother cut you off, growing impatient. “Did you do something to anger him? Anything?”

Wasn’t that the question you kept asking yourself?

You swallowed. “No.”

She didn’t seem convinced. “What about your wedding night?”

You froze. How? How did she know? “Mother.”

“You need to be very honest with me,” she warned. To your shock, there was a new edge to her voice. This wasn’t just a scolding. She seemed almost…anxious. “There is a world of difference between a marriage that is consummated and a marriage that is not.”

Your face heated. Hearing your mother, so prim and proper, talk about consummation…

This was definitely, definitely torture.

“Please, dear. Tell me,” she implored you. “Did you please him?”

“I…” you stammered, the words sticking in your throat. Your cheeks felt as if they were on fire. “I…don’t know?”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” She asked, sharply, pouncing on your answer.

You remembered Minho’s behaviour afterwards, the way he rolled away from you. How cold he had been the morning after. He didn’t seem pleased.

But he didn’t seem particularly angry.

He just seemed…like Minho. Cold, aloof, terse.

“He’s hard to read,” you replied, eventually. It felt like an understatement.

Your mother stared at you, long and hard. And then, with a deep sigh, she set her cup down. “I’m going to be very blunt with you.”

Oh no.

Please don’t.

“Did he…” your mother paused, glancing around the solarium, eyeing the attendants that hovered just within earshot. She lowered her voice to a whisper, leaning towards you. “Did he finish inside of you?”

You choked, jerking away to hide your face in your hands. This couldn’t be real. This could not be happening.

And yet, your mother stayed there, eyes on you, silently demanding a response.

You knew she wouldn’t back down until you did. She wasn’t the type.

You forcibly removed your hands from your face, turning away to avoid looking away. And then, as you took hold of your cup and brought it towards you, you managed to force out your answer. “…Yes.”

You were expecting a new torrent of questions, each demanding more graphic detail than the last.

You were not expecting your mother to lean back, nodding. Were it not for all her grace and carefully educated poise, you could imagine her slumping with relief. “That’s all I needed to know.”

You paused, staring at her in shock.

She said it so…dismissively. As if that was the be-all, and end-all of her concerns.

You couldn’t believe it.

Considerably more relaxed, she reached for her tea again. “After everything I heard about the physician, I worried…well, I–”

“The physician?” You asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

Your mother glanced up in surprise. “You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?”

“His Highness had your women’s physician dismissed. Quite shockingly, from what I heard. Naturally, everyone assumed the worst.”

The worst.

Your stomach dropped like a stone, as you realised the reality of your situation. What everyone saw when they looked at you, and your marriage with Minho.

They assumed you were a failure in bed. A laughable failure. Enough to anger Minho into booting your physician from court and demand you keep separate chambers.

But you hadn’t done anything. In fact, at the time, he seemed to…

And you…

“…He didn’t say anything,” you say, abruptly, more to yourself than to your mother. “He…seemed to like it.”

Didn’t he?

Did you do something wrong?

Your mother frowned, clearly pondering something, and leaned forward. “And you? How do you feel now?”

You swallowed, softening a little at the question, thoughts too scattered to piece together. “I…I suppose I’m alright. Confused, I think. Irritated. If he has a problem, I don’t see why he can’t just speak to me about it.”

“Yes, yes,” your mother said, and once again, her tone is sharp. Dismissive. Impatient. “But how do you…feel, dear?”

You blinked, unsure what exactly she was asking.

And then her eyes dipped. Pointedly.

Towards your stomach.

…Oh.

Unconsciously, your hand moved to your stomach, pressing against it.

That was something you hadn’t even spared a thought about. You had been too concerned with Minho, about the disrespect he’d shown you, about all the ways to cure your boredom.

But you supposed it certainly was possible that…

“I don’t…feel any different,” you admitted, slowly, haltingly. “I haven’t noticed anything. Any, uh…any intuition about anything.”

“Hmm,” your mother replied, looking slightly disappointed at your response. “I suppose you’ll have an examination soon to check, won’t you?”

You’d almost forgotten. One of the glamorous perks of being a royal bride – a monthly invasive exam to determine whether you had fulfilled your duty.

“Yes. In about a fortnight or so.”

“Good,” she says, but the look in her eyes is anything but pleased. “I hope I don’t have to tell you how vital it is to get his heir in you. Soon.”

You winced at her words, uncomfortable. “Mother–”

“A wife without children is an inconvenience,” she warned you, solemn. “So easily side-stepped. Don’t allow yourself to get too comfortable in your position just yet.”

“I’m not,” you snapped, your patience finally worn away. You couldn’t deal with this right now. You couldn’t deal with your mother scolding you about Minho, as if his behaviour was somehow your problem to solve. You couldn’t deal with your own mother telling you how useless you were without a child in you.

It was getting too much. Everything was getting too much.

Under the table, your hands balled themselves into fists, clenching so tightly that you could feel your fingernails digging into the flesh of your palm.

You wanted to scream. Cry. You imagined, for a moment, overturning this table. You imagined watching those delicate little cups shattering against the floor, the sounds they would make.

You itched to do something – anything. Anything that left a mark.

You felt that familiar stinging at the back of your eyes, and you were unsure if it came from sorrow or anger. Either way, you fought it with all your might, dropping your gaze to the table in front of you, to your tea, to those perfectly thin cuts of salmon made for you.

You swallowed back your frustrations, and instead, you muttered. “I’m trying. I swear that I’m trying.”

There was a long, long pause – and then, you felt your mother’s hands on your shoulder, squeezing it gently, and drifting upwards to carefully stroke your head.

“I know,” she said, gently. “And your father and I are doing all we can to help you.”

Your mother’s kindness only made it harder to hold back the tears. You tried to take a deep breath, still fixating on that cup of tea until you regained your composure. “…How is Father?”

“He’s well. Doing all he can to spread our joy for you to the common folk. Did you know he sent an extra bushel of wheat to every household in our demesne on your wedding day?” Your mother asked, and you could hear the amusement in her voice. “Took them right from our own granary.”

That sounded about right. Your father liked his grand gestures, always generous and always looking for an opportunity to further his own ambitions. “The people love him.”

“And they love you. The common folk always love a new princess,” your mother reminded you. “And they love a richprincess even more. A fatter royal treasury means lower taxes, after all.”

You quietened, taking in that idea, letting yourself reflect on it.

“The public likes me?”

“More than you think. Your father has done an astonishing amount for you, dear.”

You didn’t respond, still too distracted with this new information.

You had assumed you were barely an afterthought in the eyes of the public – or, at worst, mocked for your failings.

But support from the people?

That was something new.

That was power.

At last, you had leverage.

Your mother withdrew her hand, smiling lightly, and reached for her cup again. “Actually, darling, I’ve been meaning to ask. I’m sure you heard the dreadful news about Lord Park?”

You frowned at her. Lord Park?

Very dimly, you recalled the elderly face of a nobleman. One of the royal advisors, who passed away peacefully in his sleep some weeks ago. You couldn’t recall any particular friendship he had with your family, but you supposed your father could have had business with him. “Yes, I did. At least he lived a long life.”

“Yes. I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about who will take his seat on the royal council?”

Council seat? What? This was politics, this was dull state bureaucracy, a topic so very far removed from your mother’s usual conversational topics.

“No. Minho doesn’t exactly talk to me about politics.”

Or anything else, for that matter.

“Hmm,” your mother sighed, taking a sip of her tea. “Perhaps you should fix that. A seat on the council is a powerful position to have. You would do very well to have an ally take it, a man you know will have your interests at heart. Think about it, dear.”

After your talk with your mother, your first thought was to track Minho down again and demand answers, to start an argument with him, to pick at him until you could drag the truth out for yourself.

You managed to restrain that urge, and returned to your chambers, telling yourself it was better to examine these things rationally and calmly plan your next move.

You didn’t expect Minho to find you that evening, ruining those plans entirely.

You were sat at your desk, dinner long since cleared away, dressed in your nightclothes and determined to finish re-reading this chapter on dignitary etiquette before bed – when the door to your chambers swung open.

You jolted, rising to your feet in alarm, only to relax slightly when you saw who it was.

“Are you going to make this a habit?” You asked. “Forcing your way into my chambers unannounced?”

“It’s hardly ‘forcing’ when your guards open the door for me,” Minho drawled, unapologetic. “Would you rather I shouted through the doorway to let you know my intentions?”

“I’d rather you knocked,” you stated, folding your arms over your chest. “That might be a strange notion to you, but I hope you’re aware of the general idea of privacy, at least.”

Minho smiled, but there was no warmth to it. Quite the contrary, there was a certain sharpness to his words when he spoke. “I’m afraid I’m rather unfamiliar with the concept of privacy. Could you explain…”

He trailed off, his attention caught by something. You followed his gaze, and froze when you realised what exactly he was looking at.

The grey furs on your bed, carefully folded and resting against your pillows.

His furs.

You wanted to immediately blurt out a defence, that the furs were just to keep you warm until the chill of early spring faded, that they were misplaced, that you had never seen these furs before in your life, you swear–

Instead, you cleared your throat. “Yes?”

Minho’s eyes darted from the furs, to your defiant stare. He paused for a moment, inhaling, his lips parting as if he were about to say something.

And then, his features smoothed out to that familiar look of boredom. “Nothing.”

The two of you stared each other down, silent, and you debated challenging him again, reluctant to take such an obvious lie as an answer.

And then, the cold of the evening sent a chill through you, and you were hit with a new sense of self-awareness.

Minho, you noted, was fully-dressed in his usual regal attire. Layers of expensive, thick fabrics, obnoxiously form-fitting breeches that you refused to grant more than a passing glance, sturdy black boots.

You, on the other hand, were dressed for bed. Your nightgown – a thin, cotton garment – kept you cool while you slept, but did barely enough to protect your modesty. You weren’t sure why you were embarrassed by this. Minho was one of the few, the very few, to ever see you in less.

But you felt exposed, exposed in a way that Minho, in all his finery, was not.

You wondered then, in that moment, what exactly he was doing in your chambers this late at night.

You swallowed. “…Why are you here, Minho?”

He tilted his head, just slightly. You couldn’t tell from his expression whether he had caught onto your thoughts – and you hated every second of silence that followed your question, as if he were making you wait.

“I found a tutor for you,” he finally said, to your surprise. “Kim Seungmin. He’s happy to meet with you tomorrow afternoon in the library, if that time is agreeable for you.”

“That…that was fast,” you noted, still trying to process this information.

“You gave me the impression that you were in a hurry,” Minho remarked, raising an eyebrow. “I can always tell him to reschedule, push it back a few more weeks if that’s more amenable–”

“No,” you snapped. “Tomorrow is fine. Perfect, honestly.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Another silence fell between the two of you. Now that Minho had said all he came here for, what else was there to do now? Tell him to leave? Invite him to sit down?

There were a hundred questions still burning in your mind when you looked at Minho, and you longed to just hold him down and force the answers out of him. You were tired, it was late, and you were just so sick of games.

So, when Minho began to turn towards the door, you took a step forward without thinking – catching him off-guard.

The words that slipped out of your mouth were not ones you expected. “How long will I be here?”

Minho paused, turning to look at you in confusion. “What?”

“In these chambers,” you elaborated, staying firm. “How long am I supposed to stay here?”

“Are you really that unhappy? I thought these chambers seem to suit you quite nicely. But I suppose, if you insist, we can prepare you something overlooking the lake–”

“That’s not what I mean. Don’t play dumb with me, Minho,” you warned, serious.

Minho paused, taking in the anger in your expression, the clench of your jaw. Maybe he was assessing whether you were likely to drop this subject any time soon – and quickly came to the realisation that you were absolutely not.

You pressed on, taking another step forward. “People are starting to talk.”

“Let them,” he said, entirely unbothered. “It doesn’t concern us.”

You couldn’t help it.

“Yes, it does!” You exploded, and you didn’t miss the way Minho’s eyes widened at your sudden raised voice. He didn’t quite take a step back, but it seemed a close call. “Maybe it doesn’t concern you, but you’re not the one they’re talking about. It’s me. They blame me, when you’re the one who…”

You tried to say it. You tried to voice the thoughts in your head, the reality of the situation. He’s the one who constantly rejects you, the one who just shoos you away like some tiresome nuisance, who bedded you once like some despised obligation and now seems desperate to rid himself of you, but you…

“What did I do?” You demanded, and you hated the wavering in your voice, but you despised the way Minho’s expression faltered. You didn’t want pity. You wanted an answer. “You know I didn’t…I wasn’t experienced, so if I did something wrong, you need to tell me.”

Minho didn’t speak, not for a long while. He just stared, and for once, the mask had well and truly slipped away – because you could see something in his eyes, clear as day, something conflicted.

And when he finally replied, you were struck by the realisation that finally – finally – he was being honest with you.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Minho told you, firmly. “It’s me. I…”

He hesitated. You watched as he swallowed.

“It’s as you said,” he said, softly. “I’m lacking. Not you.”

His words, uttered so quietly that you could almost believe they were never said at all, hung in the air between the two of you.

You tried to find a response, any response, to this moment of sincerity – but it had disarmed you, entirely.

You were still scrambling for words when Minho cleared his throat, and turned away. “Sleep well. Enjoy tomorrow.”

It was with a new sense of purpose that you marched through the doors to the library.

You had done nothing wrong.

Those words should have reassured you. You had done everything correctly, none of this was your fault, you could rest easy and place all the blame on Minho.

But…

That also meant you had no idea how to solve the situation. If you had done something wrong, you supposed you could have swallowed your pride and apologised through gritted teeth.

But Minho was to blame. Not only that, but he knew this – and most importantly, was doing nothing to fix it.

And that was just…infuriating. How did Minho manage to keep doing this? Angering you more and more each day?

At this point, it was practically a talent. A matter of expertise.

So, if you couldn’t make any progress on your marriage, you could – at the very least – throw yourself into learning.

And that was exactly what you intended to do.

The royal library was an impressive size, and it took you a few moments to locate your new tutor. You eventually found him seated by the window, gazing out at the courtyard below, tapping his fingers against the dark wood of the table in front of him.

He was young – far younger than any of the tutors you’d had as a child. An apprentice, probably, which was a thought that only stung deeper the more you thought about it.

Of course. You couldn’t waste the time of serious, respected scholars. That would be absurd.

You cleared your throat.

“Kim Seungmin?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

Seungmin’s head snapped in your direction so sharply, you almost worried he would do himself injury. He rose to his feet, bowing his head respectfully. Now standing, you could better take him in. He was tall, gangly in places, a far cry from the athletic nobility you’d grown up around, well-fed and trained in a variety of physical pursuits. This was clearly a man of learning, not hunting. “Your Highness. It’s an honour.”

You still needed to get used to all these formalities.

You approached the table, while your two guards took position by the shelves – keeping a distant, but watchful eye on you.

“I’d like to get started as soon as possible,” you told him, solemn. “I’m sure we have plenty of ground to cover in these tutoring sessions.”

“Of course,” Seungmin said, and you found yourself caught slightly off-guard by his simple response. You weren’t sure why you were expecting more resistance. A habit, you supposed. “What areas are you interested in, Your Highness?”

Here was the real test.

You eyed Seungmin very carefully, and lifted your chin. “We’ll start with geography.”

He nodded. “Very well, I–”

“I know this country’s noble families, but I have no idea what region they govern, their exports, their strength of position,” you listed them off with your fingers. “I also want to know all transport routes, all mines, mountains, rivers, forests. And then–”

“And then?” Seungmin repeated, sounding slightly dazed.

“History. The most recent century is the most pressing, but if you can think of any significant events before then that will be relevant, please add those. I know marriages by family, but not dates. And then there’s wars, treaties, things of that nature. Trade, diplomatic expeditions, coups. I want to know our allies abroad and our enemies, I want to know our common interests and the lines that divide us.”

“Ah.”

There was a slight trepidation in his eyes. Undoubtedly, you were asking far more of him than anyone probably expected. This was the kind of education that was reserved for kings and princes, learned gradually over a period of years, and taught by the utmost experts of their fields.

With this knowledge, you softened just a little. “I understand you have your work cut out for you. But please understand that…so do I. If there’s anything else you can think of that might aid me, anything at all, please let me know.”

Seungmin was silent, and you worried for a moment that you were demanding too much. That you had overstepped your boundaries, even as princess. That Seungmin would reject your requests, report back to Minho, and the two of them would laugh long and hard at your expense.

But then, suddenly, Seungmin’s eyes lit up.

“The best place to start would be Baek’s works on our political history, he’s great at explaining the broad strokes of what you’re looking for. For martial history, there’s a few new works on the Lakelands – we’ll need the most up-to-date accounts.”

You knew of the Lakelands. They were your neighbours to the south, once the contentious rivals to this country’s trade efforts, now sworn allies. Felix’s mother was a Lakelander, brought over to seal the alliance with marriage.

Was that why he went to the coast? The capital was so far north, inland, surrounded by hills and dense woods. Did he long for a warmer climate, by the water, to remind him of his maternal family?

You swallowed, pushing these thoughts to the back of your mind. Now was not the time to dwell on Felix.

Seungmin suddenly clapped his hands, struck by some kind of epiphany. “If I may, Your Highness, I’d suggest using the records of the royal council meetings as a reference guide. Reading those, alongside history texts, would be incrediblyuseful.”

Your eyes widened, as you considered his suggestion. “How detailed are these records?”

“Very. They’re tedious reading on their own,” Seungmin admitted, pulling a face, “but if you wanted to keep track of who was in and out of royal favour, or what big and small decisions were proposed and decided upon by who, they’re indispensable.”

“Perfect. We’ll use those too,” you said, and you couldn’t hide the smile threatening the corners of your mouth. Finally, something to engage you. Something to excel at.

“I can draw up a list of works to start on straight away!” Seungmin exclaimed, enthusiasm overcoming him for just a moment. You watched in amusement as realisation set in, as he returned to a sense of propriety, and quickly retreated back into his polite, soft-spoken demeanour.

He cleared his throat, looking just a little sheepish.

“If it pleases Your Highness, of course–”

“It does,” you declared, grinning. “Let’s begin.”

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[writing-in-april]

Dressed in Crimson

Spencer Reid x Female Reader (Royalty AU)

Summary: Spencer is a stable boy with a passion for learning and Reader is the princess of the palace that he serves in. They’ve been in a secret relationship, the two grow restless about not being able to be out in the open.

A/N: Guys I’m so excited for this one I really really loved writing it- it’s my fourth fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April and it’s also written for @omgbigfluffwriting !!! I kinda immersed myself into this quite a bit- and it’s my longest oneshot I’ve ever written 🤭The specific historical period theyre in is not specified and the world that they’re in is entirely fictional and not based on any specific point in history- if you’ve ever watched Merlin that’s kinda the vibe I was thinking of just without the magic lol (please still ignore that the gif does not have an accurate clothing choice from Spencer I just wanted a good shot of his hair that I thought of while writing this) i feel like it’s becoming so obvious how much I love historical fiction lol 😂 I’d like to hear from you guys also so if you want to drop me an ask here! It can be about anything 🥰 hope y’all enjoy!!!

Warnings: 18+, Reader has a horrible Father, subtle hints about sexism, Classism, Period typical clothing, Reader and Spencer fight for a little bit, Smut, Dom Spencer, Fingering, Handjob, Unprotected Sex, Day dreaming about fucking in public, Spencer’s possessive as hell, Ignoring the potential consequences of a creampie

Main Masterlist Word count: 4.7k

My day started out like any other with my corset made of whalebone being cinched tightly around my figure with my chemise underneath of course. Every time the ends of the laces were pulled taught on my body I thought of the days where I could get away with not having this wretched piece of clothing cutting off my breath. Those days had been so long ago, when I was just a small child, almost so long ago that I had to strain my memory to recall it. It wasn’t even until I was done clutching my mother’s skirts before I started to be forced into the confines of the worst invention in history. I would have rather muck in the mud in pants like the men, unless there was a reason for me to actually want to wear a dress.

Today, I had chosen a crimson colored gown, one of my only favorites. The front of the bodice was adorned with embroidery, one embroidered with a glistening gold thread. The sleeves were long and ever so slightly off my shoulders, ending just at my wrist. It had been perfectly handcrafted just for me, a seamstress being hired to slave away at each detail with precision. If it had been up to my father the seamstress would have been paid little to nothing for this masterpiece, but you had your own coins stashed away from your allowance to give extra to anyone that gave you goods and services.

The dress was my favorite almost solely because of someone else’s appreciation for the lush fabric, no one needed to know about that though. I did like to look nice on certain occasions, but only special ones. There was no special occasion scheduled for me to have a reason for wearing it, well none that the greater majority of the court would know about.

Only my maid Emily knew what my excursion would be today, why I dressed up so nicely. There was no feasible way for me to hide my dalliances from her, especially the one I was about to go to as it required some higher levels of stealth to be able to evade my father’s guards.

His name was Spencer, one of my father’s stable boys. I loved him more than anything, definitely more than any potential match that was arranged for me.

I gifted him whatever I could without raising suspicion, though I often hid my purchases if someone asked by excusing them as more frivolous in nature, such as a new dress. Spencer had no real need for pretty things as he’d said before, except from myself- those were his past words not mine. And, he did express to me how much he loved the dress I was wearing right now, which was tied to how we had first met.

When I first met him I had been looking for a fabric in the market stalls. I hadn’t really wanted to, I was content with all the dresses that I owned right now, they had no ornament on them, just how I preferred. However, my father demanded I get something fancier for some sort of frivolous ball that was coming up that undoubtedly had no reason to take place besides bleeding everyone else dry.

I brushed hands with him for the first time as I was looking for the material I wanted, something just fancy enough to appease my father. The stall filled with fabrics bordered one that had stacks of books, I would have much preferred to be looking at that one. My hand had gotten close to the edge while I was inspecting a fabric and it had bumped into a man who was looking at one of the books.

When I had looked up to see who had brushed my hand I was met with frantic eyes filled with apology. His stuttered apology had covered my attempt to assure him that it was fine, it had taken me grabbing both of his hands to steady him for him to listen to my reassurance.

When he had introduced himself to me after I asked it flowed into a long conversation. I could have talked to him forever, I would be content to never talk to anyone else. For a stable boy he was exceptionally smart, which I learned was from his mother who had made sure he was educated even in poverty, specifically through having him read anything she could get her hands on. From then on our blossoming friendship had flourished, and had eventually developed into more.

I slung a shawl over my shoulders made out of a fabric of similar color to my gown and also grabbed a purse filled with coins with a smile due to my reminiscing . It wasn’t cold enough for one of my velvet cloaks just yet and most of the walk down to where Spencer was housed was indoors.

The walk from my rooms in the main part of the castle to the stables on the lower floor towards the East end was longer than I would have wanted. Truthfully, I wished I would not have to live in a castle at all, I’d rather live in the small house that Spencer lived. It was just past the castle grounds at the edge of the surrounding village adjacent to the stables so he did not have to walk far for work in the mornings.

My feet tiptoed down the corridors carefully, I was lucky that I had figured out to be somewhat light on my feet otherwise I’d be caught swiftly for sure. I passed by the rooms of most of the lords and ladies staying at court, I always wondered why some chose to stay here, it was positively suffocating here. The door I used to go outside was through the kitchen, that had a myriad of breakable things strewn about that I had to stealthily avoid. Luckily, I knocked nothing over that would have woken up the cooks who slept just a room over. Turning the handle of the door had to be a slow process so no one would hear the creak of the knob while it was turned, but I did successfully make it out with no disturbance.

Beginning the stretch of my journey that was outdoors was perhaps the most risky. Guards were stationed around the perimeter of the castle in greater numbers compared to the ones indoors which were only stationed by important rooms. I weaved my way through, in some aspects it was even more confusing than the inside of the castle. Hiding behind each of the pillars was the most effective way to avoid them, the construction of them making a series of small blind spots. I had just snuck behind one of the last ones when one of the guards nearest to me moved forward a little. I stopped breathing immediately, holding it tight in my chest while I plastered myself as close as I could to the back of the pillar. My nails dug into the stone of the pillar in fear, if I was ever to be found sneaking out at night or worse in the presence of Spencer, I would either never leave my rooms again or be whisked away into marriage even earlier than planned.

When the guard did not move to investigate further I let go of the breath I was holding, still making sure to let go of it slowly so he could not hear me. Moving swiftly forward after I had taken a breath was a bit of a challenge, my knees had gone weak with fear. I pushed myself to take each step even with the weakness in my knees, there was no way I could linger any longer.

Finally I was no longer walking on stone, I was walking on the muddy earth now. It was nice to feel the ground under my feet instead of the harsh stone, it told me that I was now only a handful of strides away from Spencer’s home.

The leaves littering the ground mixing with mud crunched under my feet even as I tip toed carefully. The guards may be in the distance now, but I didn’t feel keen on testing how good their hearing may potentially be.

Passing the stables was the last marker for my journey, then I would be able to see his home too. As I passed the sleeping horses by anticipation began to replace the fear inside me. It had been a while since I had been able to come see him, making me yearn for his touch even more.

His home came into view, even in the dead of night I could make it out if I squinted my eyes hard. My pace picked up exponentially when I landed my eyes on his humble abode. It was a quaint home, fallen into disrepair as he could not afford to fix it on the meager salary that my father paid him. The purse of gold that I had brought with me was exactly for that, the repairs. He would most likely protest the gift just like any other thing I had tried to gift him. From my experience the most effective way to get him to accept anything was to leave it there with no conversation about it. I think it made him feel less guilty even though in my opinion he was owed the money in the first place, no one should have to live in squalor when they did their job every day without question or complaint.

When I finally was at the entrance of his home I entered through the door swiftly, too impatient to wait or knock. Stress melted from my shoulders when I caught sight of him, hunched over one of the books I had given him, candles strewn around to give him enough light to read.

The candles he had lit to be able to read in the night illuminated us both with a glow. He would always compliment me whenever we found ourselves in similar lighting such as this, but in my opinion there was no rivalry. Each time the candle flickered it brightened up every highlight of him, letting me see his wild curls, brown eyes deeper than any others I had ever seen, and a body that I had no doubt was crafted to perfection illuminated in a beautiful glow.

I went to compliment him just as he always did with me, but I became mesmerized when he stood up, then moving his way closer to me.

“It is nice to see you, it feels like it’s been an eternity.” It may seem dramatic for him to say that it felt that long, but I echoed his sentiment willingly.

“It is nice to see you too, Spencer. I agree it’s been far too long.” I was sure it had been at least a full moon cycle since we had the pleasure of being alone with one another, our duties to my father keeping us separated.

It had been painful whenever I would go out for a ride on my horse, to see him hand me the reins of my mare and be unable to reach out to touch him. There had been one day, about a week ago, that I had let my hand brush against his own for a moment while he handed the reins to me. It was an innocent brush of a touch, that also had a barrier in the form of my leather gloves. To anyone else it had meant nothing, but to me and him, it meant everything.

His eyes were blown wide with desire, as I suspected mine were as well. We let ourselves take in the sight of each other for a minute longer before Spencer broke the silence with a request,

“Drop your shawl, so I may see you better.” A stable hand commanding someone of such a stature such as I would’ve seen him whipped if it was any other person before him. His boldness was not unexpected, it had taken a while for him to grow so comfortable with my company. In truth, he had been quite scared when I had first met him. It was perfectly understandable considering his employer was my father, who was not known for his kindness. And, even then after his fear had faded he still had a shy exterior for a while, it only had been lifted when we began to become extremely comfortable around each other. We were each other's only form of solace in this world, we could only escape our reality when we were together.

Instead of having malice in my voice like other nobles would I simply pulled the shawl more taught around my shoulders and teased, “Why should I?”

The expression on his face was one of the ones I loved seeing on his face the most, a sly smirk. He came closer to me, with careful steps as if he was waiting for the right moment to pounce. We were so close together when he stopped moving, but still not touching. He was playing a game with me, not touching until I obliged him. As he leaned in to speak into the shell of my ear he was careful with the way he tilted his body forward so I could only feel his breath on the small portion of my skin, “Because you like it when I look at you.”

My arms fell to my sides releasing my shawl to fall from my shoulders onto the floor at his words, as they rang true. I did want him to look at me and also, of course touch me.

“You wore your favorite dress.” He observed, still not quite touching. I didn't need to answer the statement he made with the thought in my mind ‘I wore it for you’ because I knew he had already figured that out. His observational skills were keenly honed in by his constant reading whenever he had the chance, often reading books that I had gifted to him. He even sometimes read well into the night, straining his eyes in the darkness when the candle was almost merely a wick. I had found that out the first- and sadly, only time I had the opportunity to stay overnight. Since then I had pushed him to get more rest as I knew how hard he was worked to the bone during the day, courtesy of my father.

His eyes were staring at my dress, pupils blown wide, his mind seemingly off in another world maybe thinking about all the things he wanted to do to me.

“Please, touch me.” I didn’t need to speak loud, only a soft whisper for him to hear me because of how close he already was to me. So close, yet so far.

He raised his large hands, calloused from working so hard day in and day out. My own hands were soft from the expensive creams I had been pampered with since I was just a small child. I liked his hands better, they showed the hard work he used everyday to cultivate his beautiful mind and body.

I subtly licked my lips in anticipation of his touch, wanting to feel every inch of his hand roaming my body, from the tips of his fingers to where his palm met his wrist.

His fingers then started to trace over the top of my corset, just a hair away from touching the swell of my breasts. My chest was rising and falling with each breath, each inhale pushing it slightly closer to his fingers. With each fall of my chest I felt the need to quickly let go of my breath, so I could once again inhale and be brought closer to his touch.

“Please touch me.” I repeated, breathless from forcing myself to breathe into his touch.

“I am touching you.” His fingers still did not move to touch my skin, only the crimson accented in gold. It was his turn to tease me now, I was at his mercy, ready and waiting for it.

I could beg again, though quite obviously I could not convince him with it. As he was running his fingers over the cloth for what felt like the millionth time, still not touching me, I teased him back instead of begging, “No you are touching my dress.”

A mere ghost of a touch from his fingers then floated across my skin. What should have calmed my heaving chest from my gasping breaths only served to make my breathing even heavier. The slight touch was still not enough, only making my desire for his hands to roam every inch of my body even more severe.

“Perhaps I should take your corset off, to help you breathe better.” He said, as if he read my exact thoughts.

“I like your thinking.”

I was then spun around so my back was pressed into his chest. It soothes my desire for his touch some, but we both had barriers of cloth preventing me from fully feeling him. I could feel some of the warmth that was hidden underneath his shirt, which was made up of a much billowing white linen that compared to his trousers.

If my skirts were not so large I wondered if I were to push back if my behind would come in contact with his cock and whether or not his desire would be as prominent as the slickness dampening the bottom layer I was wearing. I’d have to find a way to find a pair of trousers then, sometime soon, so I could try to grind into him at a later date. There was no doubt that we’d surely find ourselves in a similar position again.

As his hands started to undo the laces of my corset with care, despite both of our desperation, a thought slipped out from his lips that I’m sure he intended to keep to himself, “I wish I could call you mine in public.”

“My father would kill you!” The taste of my voice would have been bitter in anyone’s mouth, quickly spat out in the same way I said those words. Perhaps my quick anger to his innocent thought would be insane to some, most would probably consider it a sweet thought. However, he knew from previous conversations that when those sweet thoughts were expressed that all I could feel was a heavy sadness sitting inside me, instead of desire.

Tears clouded my vision, so much so that I did not see Spencer’s arms come around me to envelop me in an embrace. I flinched a bit at first, but then melted when I realized it was him. We held each other for a while as I sobbed softly into his billowy white shirt.

He stroked my shoulder with his large hands that I loved, but the corset he had not taken off fully yet was blocking me from feeling his touch the way I wanted.

“Take it off please.” I begged softly, I wanted to feel his skin on mine, and not just his lips or his hands. I wanted to feel every inch of him.

The laces of my corset were already half undone because of his previous attempt at getting it off of me. He finished the job, pulling the corset off of my body, tossing it down to the floor. He may have loved the dress, but he was showing me through his actions that he loved what was underneath more.

Turning me around was his next step, so he could properly kiss me. The pressure was soft at first, as if he was testing the waters to see how I would feel. Feeling his soft lips on my own just made me want to pull him in further, and I did so. My fingers tangled into his curls as the kiss devolved into pure passion, we were both throwing ourselves fully into it, trying to express our feelings nonverbally.

His own hands moved to cup my breasts as he backed me into the cot he slept on every night. I did not let him push me down on the bed so he was on top of me like normal, this time I wanted to be on top for a while. When I straddled his hips the first thing I felt was his cock straining in his pants. I unbuckled them so I could wrap my hands around his cock, I wanted to feel his thick and heavy length in my hands. Precum was already dripping down his hard cock as I pumped his length with my hands. My own arousal was dampening the underneath of the skirt I still had on. Spencer confirmed it himself when he snuck his fingers underneath the fabric to play with my pleasure spots. We both groaned as his fingers entered inside me while he rubbed circles into my swollen pearl.

My skirt was bunched up in his hands, pulling up all the way to the tops of my thighs. He soon got fed up with the skirt being in the way though and maneuvered me to shuck it off of me as fast as possible. Being bare before him did not make me wither in self consciousness, it made me lean into his touch even more.

He leaned up to kiss me again while I grabbed his length and restraddled him. I was definitely wet enough to have him enter me, my separation from him making me desperate, it had been so long since we had the chance to be together like this.

I then sunk down on his length slowly, it was for me to adjust to his size and to relish in the feeling of him sliding inside me. I stilled on top of him as the back of my thighs hit the top of his, he filled me with perfection. Spencer only let me be still for a little while before his hands gripped my hips and started to guide me to roll my hips. The pace I set- well Spencer was the one who set it, was slow and deep, I was languidly rolling my hips while he thrusted up into me at a similar pace.

My face twisted in pleasure as his thrusts became more powerful, still at the same pace but with more force behind them.

“Fuck- I want everyone to know that you’re mine!” It was the exact same thing he had spoken to me earlier that had sparked anger and melancholy inside me. This time it caused a spark of pleasure instead, making me think about him fucking me in front of everyone claiming me as his.

“My father would kill you.” This time when I said it it was gasped into his mouth with little to all anger disappeared from it.

My words made Spencer growl which was swallowed by a possessive kiss. He then flipped me over roughly, my back now pressed into the cot. A high pitched squeak had escaped my lips unintentionally in surprise, it was quickly changed into a moan when he entered me again. This time the pace did not start off slow as I did not need to adjust to him inside of me.

“I don’t care.” His speech was agitated as he pounded into me, holding my legs open with both hands spreading me out for him to see everything, “No matter what anyone says or does, you’re mine.”

Pleasure sparked through me at his possessive words, I grabbed desperately at the cotton sheets trying to hold onto something as my finish was fast approaching. When the cotton sheets were not enough of a stabilizer for me I lifted my hands up to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him close.

“Come on I know you’re close, I’m close too baby.” My nails dug into his neck and back during the latter half of his sentence causing him to slightly wince. I knew he enjoyed it though because of the question that he groaned out next, “Can I cum inside you?”

Biting my lip hard was painful as I nodded my head in response to his question that had me falling over the edge. The consequences of him finishing inside me danced in the back of my head, I chose to ignore them as he did. I did not care as he filled me and I rode out my release, even if I was to somehow get pregnant because of our recklessness it did not matter. I’d gladly have his child, even if it meant I’d have to go on the run.

Instead of falling on top of me directly after finishing like I’ve heard most men do with their wives he gently removed himself from my entrance and laid down beside me on the cot. Bliss was mingling in the air between us, both unburdened by any of our problems that would become a reality as soon as I left for the night. For now we would just hold onto the bliss until it was cruelly snatched away from reality.

Spencer had a solution as always to our problems, and seemed to be thinking about the same thing I was with his next suggestion,

“Run away with me.” We were both covered in sweat that had cropped up from our activities, a contrast to the chilly air outside and in the castle. It was nice to feel warm every time I was in his arms, It was hard to resist being greedy and deciding to stay in his arms forever. It had crossed my mind more than once, but there was always something stopping me from going through with it fully. I opened my mouth to point out all the reasons why that would not be possible when he added, “And, before you say no I want to ask- what’s stopping you?”

His reasoning was sound, as it often was. My mouth opened and closed, struggling to find a reasoning before I accepted that he was right. The only potential downfall was my father’s forces searching everywhere to find me, but it would be worth it. We could also easily cross the border into nearby lands ruled by someone else that was not in alliance with him. I already felt lighter thinking about being free from the confines of the castle- and hopefully my corset. Though I would have to keep the crimson dress I wore today, even if I only wore it around him, It was his favorite and it symbolized the day that we met. He glanced over at me just as I did the same, looking right into his eyes as I spoke,“Alright.”

The light that sparked in his eyes made my heart soar, I could feel just from his gaze how ecstatic he was to spend his life with me. I didn’t need any words to know how much he loved me.

We basked for a moment in the presence of our love, Spencer broke the silence again when he started planning,“You need to go pack!”

I moved myself to sit up even though my limbs protested, wanting to sleep after our post coital bliss. A soft smile was exchanged between the two of us, “I’ll pack light, only the stuff I need.”

The purse of gold I had brought for him would no longer be used to fund his repairs, but to fund our life together. I climbed on top of him again leaning forward to capture him in a kiss that was much more chaste than the ones earlier in the night.

“I. love. you.” He whispered in between kisses making my eyes wet with tears. They weren’t born out of sadness, but of happiness that I had someone to love me as much as Spencer did.

“I love you too, I will see you soon.” I pulled myself away from his lips even though I did not want to, I then got up to leave reluctantly. Though it was easier than previous departures as I knew that it would be the last one that I would have to complete. My whole being was lighter and happier than I had ever felt before as I snuck back with a spring in my step. The only hint of what I was about to do, where I was about to go, was the mud stained at the hemline of my crimson dress.

Ask me anything

—-

Tag lists (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith (why wont tumblr let me tag you😭

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics @jareauswifey

Dom Spencer: @rainsong01 @evlfknb @jakobsdump

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #matthew gray gubler x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #mgg smut #matthew gray gubler smut #30 fics in 30 days

[pbandjesse]

We are sitting in our cabin!! It's so nice. We are being so spoiled because I am positive other cabins aren't going to be so nice. This is the best I have been feeling in a week. I am just super happy right now.

And today was great. Even if I didn't feel good. I slept okay last night. Waking up was tough. James tried to wake me up and I kept asking for 10 more minutes. But would soon enough get up and felt fine. I got washed and dressed. I felt really pretty. James started bringing everything down to the car. I loved on Sweetp and set out the extra bowls of food and water we always leave for him when we go away for the weekend.

I wanted to say goodbye to him more but I also knew I wanted to get out of there and start our trip.

James made a few trips but I carried all my bags in one go. And then James brought our bikes down. I was for sure being a little bit of a baby today but I really didn't feel well. I felt so weak. It sucks. Jess wants me to see a doctor. I am going to get my next injection on Monday when we get back from the cabin so maybe I'll ask their opinion while I'm there.

We left the apartment and drove over to locust point to go to the giant and then have brunch at Southside diner.

James left me in the car because my energy level was so low. And when they got back to the car I got out to walk to the restaurant with them. Which is when at that exact moment I saw James close their keys in the car. Which then locked?? We have never had this happen before. I was so upset. I had grabbed my keys this morning as well but they were in my backpack. And James was like. I guess we call AAA. And I was trying not to get really upset. I was like well let's actually call Subaru roadside maybe there is a trick and as I said that and pointed at the number I saw that the passenger side was still unlocked!!! We don't know what but it was such a blessing and saved the morning.

So we got the keys and I keep clowning on James to check for them.

We went to have brunch and while it was good the same thing that keeps happening to me happened again. I was super enjoying my meal. And then half way in I felt so sick I wanted to cry. I tried my best to power through and at least finish my sandwich but I was bummed because it was really good.

It was just nice being with James. People watching. And trying to guess what the new store is that is opening where the Walgreens was. But soon it was time to go.

We weren't driving to far. Less then two hours. And it was a beautiful day. I brought my embroidery and got to work while we listened to James's sport podcast.

I brought stuff to do the next couple embroidery pieces. I only have 4 left. Which does mean I technically started the project a day early somehow. I think I forgot January has 31 days. But that's okay. I will do finishing work on the last day. And then it will be finished for my birthday.

The drive out here was nice. But we could not check into the cabin until 5. So we had time to kill. Once we were in the area of tuckahoe state park James brought us to an arboretum!

Which was very nice. The woman at the desk was slightly awkward in conversation at first but was super knowledgeable about the stuff we could see. And I really did enjoy the walk. The more time we were outside the better I felt. Though I was very quick to be tired. There were a lot of benches and I enjoyed seeing the different trees. The streams were my favorite part. And seeing birds overhead. I bet it's very beautiful in the spring.

We were there for about an hour. And got a free book about native plants at the end. I really liked sitting on the benches and watching the sky. I was feeling happy. But my inside hurts. I was telling Jess earlier, around this time, that I was afraid I would never feel good again. But slowly, as the day has gone on, I have been doing better and that is encouraging.

We got back to the car and decided to go to the campground and see if we could check in early. There didn't end up being a person at the ranger station so we decided not to bother. And instead we went to the pavilion/picnic area and set up a hammock to chill for a while.

And that was perfect. Because I was so stupid tired. James got me a blanket (eventually went back for a second because the wind coming off the water was very cold) and we cuddled in the hammock for a long time. James read a book. I slept.

We got startled by someone car alarm. And that when James got me the second blanket and went to sit on a bench so I could have the whole hammock to myself for a while. I didn't sleep anymore after that but I was super cozy. About an hour had gone by and we would spend another half hour chilling. Before James decided we should go get condiments for hotdogs and hopefully it would be time to check in.

And that worked pretty well. We tried royal farms first but no luck there. I got a soda though. We went to a food lion and got relish and cheese sauce, my favorite hot dog condiments, and then since there was time we stopped on the goodwill across the street. It was kind of a bad goodwill. And I don't want or need anything right now so it wasnt like we were buying stuff. But it was fun to look around. And then it was time to go to the park.

We still waited 15 minutes to see if the ranger was coming. But nope. The cabin was just unlocked.

And for real we are going to be so spoiled for cabins. It's so cute. The outside is fine but the inside is all painted panel walls and big soft couches and a cute little kitchen. There heat and air and a microwave. Plus it's right on the water. This is the best. This is more what I had pictured with our bach weekend of I'm being honest. And like that was fun but this feels just a little closer to nature. Even if that had more deer.

We got all of our stuff inside. James left me know that besides the two twin beds there was also a pull out mattress. Since we only brought one sheet we decided to sleep in the living room and use the bedroom for our clothes and stuff. We got it all cozy and unpacked. And watched the sun set.

We had hot dogs for dinner. And I worked on my embroidery more. And soon James built a fire. We did not remember a lighter or matches so they used the stove to burn a piece of paper so we could have s'mores. Love James they are so smart.

And it has just been a beautiful night. James have been reading. We listened to a podcast. Watched videos. And now it's 9 and I am freshly showered and ready to get some sleep.

Tomorrow we are going to see nature and I have like two weeks of knitting to catch up on. I set up the hammock outside and I just want to chill and feel relaxed. No stress, no expectations. And hopefully I continue to feel better.

So wish us luck. And be safe out there. Goodnight everyone. I love you!

[laurfilijames]

Talk You Out Of It

Pairing: Fili x female reader

Words: 4708

Warnings: 18 + Rated E. Explicit content. Oral sex (M/F receiving), M/F intercourse, unprotected sex. Slight asphyxiation. Blindfold used during sex.

Summary: You and your irresistible husband Fili are meant to be getting ready to attend a royal feast, but manage to talk each other out of going. Basically p*rn with a smidge of plot.

A/N: I still flush every time I read this over. Please indulge in this delicious filth that I can’t seem to stop writing. I’m sorry it’s so long.

Editing/Beta courtesy of the wonderful @guardianofrivendell 💚

—————

You didn’t really want to go to the feast, but as the wife of the Heir to the Throne of Erebor there was a very high level of obligation.

The day had wearied you, full of duties and tasks that had left you uninterested and you just didn’t have the energy to endure the raucous of dwarves and make niceties with- well, anyone if you were honest.

It was a big event, an engagement announcement for one of the Princes from the Iron Hills, and you knew it would be loud and exhausting. You were typically always keen to attend a celebratory feast, being able to eat and drink to your heart's content, dancing and laughing with your closest friends, but tonight you didn’t feel up to it.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you wished more than anything that you could stay locked away in the comforts of your chambers with your husband.

You greedily eyed Fili through the mirror attached to the vanity in front of you as he walked out of the bathing room, his skin and hair still wet from his bath.

Gods, was he ever a sight for sore eyes.

Your thighs instinctively squeezed together and you tucked your lower lip in your teeth in an attempt to compose yourself, but to no avail. Fili was naked and practically parading around your chambers, searching for items of clothing to don for the evening's festivities.

Focus, Y/N.

You looked back at your reflection as you continued to weave intricate braids throughout your hair, knowing your attendance was mandatory tonight so you needed to continue making yourself look presentable. There would be no getting out of this without repercussions, that much you were certain of.

Reaching for another bead to clasp around the section you had just finished intertwining, you smiled when you noticed it was your courting bead; the one-of-a-kind piece that Fili had engraved himself with his signet for you. But even thinking of the wonderful night Fili had presented it to you and commenced your courtship wasn’t enough to hold your concentration.

You couldn’t help but allow your eyes to drift over to where he stood beside the bed, hands on his hips, making a decision between two formal robes.

His gleaming eyes met yours in the mirror and you flushed all over at acquiring the attention of your half-naked husband.

He smirked at you and made his way over to where you sat, trousers now covering his legs but unlaced, revealing coarse, dark blond hair and barely containing his large member.

Oh. This was not helping your case.

Drops of water remained on his skin, not having dried yet, highlighting the hair on his chest and adding to his overall appeal.

“Do you think the blue or green one would go best with your gown, Amrâlimê?” Fili asked, now standing behind you.

He rested his hands on your shoulders, firm but gentle, and you closed your eyes as the contact instantly increased the tension growing in you.

“Y/N?” he prompted, and you opened your eyes to see him smiling at you in the mirror.

“The green one,” you finally answered in a low tone.

His dimples deepened as his smile widened, which didn’t help with your not wanting to go to the party.

You tried to convince yourself that it would turn into one of those situations where as much as you didn’t want to attend, you would end up having the best time. With Fili by your side, you were guaranteed to be happy regardless, but all you wanted was for him to tear this fussy dress off of you and become tangled up together in your bed.

“You seem distracted, my love,” he cooed beside your ear, causing your breath to hitch and you cursed him. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“You’re distracting me from getting ready, Fili,” you chided, needing him to create some space between you or you would never be able to finish getting ready in time.

He planted a whisper-soft kiss on the space between your neck and shoulder, looking at you in the mirror through hooded lids as he did.

You could not be held responsible for what happened next if he continued on like this.

But, as he usually did, Fili proceeded to place his lips on you, covering every available spot of your skin that was exposed to him. It seemed he could never get his fill of you, not that you minded.

“Fili, we’ll be late,” you pleaded, although a bit unconvincingly.

“Then we’ll be late,” he pressed his hot lips against the spot just behind your ear and you were done for.

Now his arms were around your waist, his hands trailing across the detailed embroidery stitched on the material and you longed for there to be nothing between your skin and his anymore. Again, your eyes closed and you allowed your head to fall back against his thick torso, getting lost in the sensation of his hands dancing over you. One moved up to palm over your breast, brushing your nipple through the fabric and extracting a breathy moan from you.

Fili needed to either stop what he was doing immediately, or call the night off altogether because there was no way you would be able to sit politely through dinner being as worked up as you were now.

Tempting as it was to blurt out your wishes of abandoning your plans, you would let him decide, allowing him to be the one responsible for causing any drama that would ensue from you and Fili missing the event. You knew Thorin would be livid and Fili would have to spend the next couple of days trying to make it up to his uncle, but you could sense it would all be worth it. The tension that hung in the air between you and Fili was so charged, hinting at what could be, and you couldn’t deny yourselves the right to find out all that was possible.

As anxious as you were for a verdict, you weren’t about to interrupt your husband who was planting kisses across your upper back where you hadn’t yet fastened the buttons of your gown.

“Are you going to do those up for me?” you asked, your voice heavy with lust.

Fili looked at you in the mirror with his lips still lingering on your skin and ever so slightly shook his head ‘no’.

A shiver coursed through your entire body and more desire flourished in your stomach.

Mahal, you were putty in his hands and so easy to submit to his touch.

You felt his absence immediately when he stepped away from you, straightening himself and rubbing his hand over his face, trying to make up his mind whether he was going to force you both to finish getting ready or abandon the idea of leaving your chambers completely.

Remaining seated, you proceeded to work at your hair, trying your best not to let your mind wander to the salacious thoughts that kept persisting for your attention.

But that was easier said than done.

Fili’s strong torso was perfectly in your eyesight and you couldn’t help but stare, taking in the creases on his stomach and especially the growing bulge in his trousers. You knew he wanted to give in to this temptation as much as you did and you couldn’t help but slightly influence his choice by draping your hair to one side and slowly trail your hand down your neck and chest.

Catching Fili looking, you stood from the bench and leaned forward, reaching for nothing in particular, giving him a view of your breasts down the top of your dress through the mirror.

Fili all but hissed, making you turn around to look at him, his chest heaving and expression hungry.

“What’s the matter, Fili?” you asked as innocently as possible.

He took a hold of your waist and moved you against the wall, your back colliding with the cold stone that caused your breath to leave you and a mischievous smile to cross your lips.

His lips crashed into yours, rough and demanding, the urgency matching that of his hands. They groped at your body, tugging and pulling at the dress that kept you hidden from him. The gown was new, but at this point you didn’t care if he ripped it to shreds.

Fili pulled your bottom lip in his teeth and stepped away from you again, only this time with a growl, still having an internal battle with himself of whether to stay in or not.

“We need to go to this dinner,” he said out loud, but more to himself.

You were left yearning against the wall as you watched him pace in front of you for a few steps, still weighing his options.

He had been dreading the evening as well, admitting to you earlier that he didn’t even like the couple who was to be married. It wasn’t as though you were shrugging off the actual wedding ceremony, this was simply an engagement party and there would be more important functions to attend in the future, so what was the harm in missing this one?

“Yes, we need to go or Thorin will have my head,” he continued, but still not entirely convinced. You remained quiet, thinking how you weren’t going to be the one to talk him out of it despite how much you wanted to.

It was almost as though the threat of aggravating Thorin humoured him and he looked at you with a naughty smirk, taking in your disheveled state. The neckline of your dress had fallen to rest just above your breasts and you stood there ready and waiting at your husband’s mercy.

Fili couldn’t resist you any longer. The sight of you like that alone was enough to sway his decision and he lunged at you, taking your mouth in his with a bruising kiss and grinding himself up against you.

“We’re not going,” he declared between kisses, making you smile against his lips.

Guilt filled you for a brief moment at breaking your commitments, but it was fleeting, the sensation of Fili’s teeth pulling at your earlobe replacing that remorse with wanton need.

In no time your dress was left discarded on the floor, nothing standing between you and Fili aside from his trousers that were only being held up by his erection.

One of your legs rested in the crook of his arm as you proceeded fondling each other, Fili grinding hard against your mound and your hands tangled in his unbraided hair.

His mouth traveled down your neck at a delightfully slow pace, savouring every bit of you until he landed on your breasts. His tongue flicked against your nipples, sucking and pulling them taut in his mouth as he alternated his attention between the two.

Fili was determined to provide you with every intense form of pleasure he was capable of, that much was clear already.

He continued to rub against you in a slow rhythm, his cock still straining painfully against his pants in an attempt to break through, while his hand trailed up your body and rested on your neck. Fili gave gentle squeezes to the sides of your throat with his thick fingers as his mouth returned to yours, swallowing your moans.

Within moments you felt consumed by ecstasy and knew you were about to give each other unbounded pleasure for the rest of the night.

You moved your hands from his wild hair down to his chest, carding your fingers through the abundance of curls that decorated him and it made you even happier that his body wasn’t currently being covered by stifling robes. Just as you began to venture lower, Fili took hold of your wrists and pinned them over your head, holding them firmly against the wall.

“Fili, I want to touch you,” you growled out of frustration.

“Patience, Amrâlimê, we have all night,” he told you in an unwavering tone.

A fresh wave of wetness pooled between your legs at his words and your body relaxed into the restraint he still had on your wrists. You supposed you could wait for a little while.

Fili’s exploration of your body continued, enjoying the taste of your skin with his tongue and feasting on you with gentle nips from his teeth.

Then he finally rewarded your patience by reaching between your legs, sliding his fingers against your slick folds. The contact made you shudder, and you knew Fili was appreciative of your desire for him by the way he huffed a grunting breath and dragged his teeth across your collarbone.

Two fingers slipped into your heat, pumping in and out of you at a careful pace before pressing onto your clit with his thumb.

You wrapped your leg tighter around his waist, pulling him closer to you as he continued to work you with his fingers, the angle allowing you to match his thrusts with your hips and ride against his hand. His other hand released the hold on your wrists to allow your arms to fall onto his shoulders, and you gripped them for support.

Though as good as this felt, you were eager for more. You desperately wanted to touch Fili, to put your hands and mouth on every inch of his body and make him feel as incredible as he was making you feel right now. Unwrapping your trembling leg from his body and standing on your own, you hooked your thumbs in the waist of his trousers and began to tug at them, anxious to gain access to what they were concealing.

Fili reluctantly removed his fingers from inside you, stopping only to assist you in freeing him from the binding laces that were failing at keeping his manhood contained. He impatiently yanked them down, his cock springing out and slapping his lower abdomen, bouncing up and down from the momentum of his hurried actions.

The sight made your mouth water and caused that familiar weighted ache to pull deep in your center.

You dropped to your knees and splayed your hands across his wide thighs, allowing your fingers to admire the defined muscles chiseled into his flesh. Your lips followed the path of your hands, landing in every notch and indentation that were formed from years of bravery on the battlefield and brute labour in the forges. Roaming your hands over to his backside, you squeezed his ample, yet firm cheeks while your lips remained on the sharply cut line that separated his leg from his groin. Each time your mouth threatened to make contact near his throbbing shaft it twitched in anticipation, causing the corners of your mouth to turn upwards in amusement.

Mahal certainly broke the mold when creating this dwarf and you couldn’t help but take your time in worshiping his body. You were going to go as slow as Fili would allow, but judging by his ragged breaths and grunts each time you made contact with his skin, it wouldn’t be for very long.

You grazed your lips along his length, the heat from his swollen flesh radiating onto them and making you eager to swallow him, but you proceeded to tease him, having your mouth land on him with peppering kisses but never taking him in.

Once you decided it was enough torment, you placed your lips on his smooth crown and flicked your tongue over the leaking hole, enjoying the saltiness of his precum.

Fili bucked into you harshly when you finally allowed him access to more of your mouth and you gladly took the full size of him, the tip of your nose now buried in the dense patch of coarse hair on his lower belly.

When you weren’t able to handle having him consistently press against the back of your throat, you recruited your hand to fist around his girthy base, pumping in time with your sucking. The combination had Fili moaning above you and his hands weakly combing through your hair, his hips slowly rolling with your movements and completely lost in a daze.

You could have done this all day, tasting him and inhaling his musky scent, but Fili soon interrupted you.

He tipped your chin up with his finger for you to look at him, watching your innocent eyes stare at him while your mouth hid and revealed his member as you bobbed back and forth, the sight quickly turning his relaxed manner into frantic lust. A look flashed in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place, something along the lines of playfulness and intrigue, and it made your stomach tighten in anticipation.

A strand of silk ribbon remained in your hair, having placed it there earlier to help hold the sections you hadn’t been braiding out of the way, and that was what Fili was regarding curiously. He took hold of the fabric and pulled, untying it with a wicked grin on his face. He ran the silky material through his fingers, and a darkness replaced the spirited look in his eyes that had been there moments before, causing you to falter slightly with your lips still wrapped around him.

Then everything was dark.

Fili tied the sash around your eyes, robbing you of sight temporarily.

More excitement flowed through you and you felt your abundant arousal drip down your leg as you remained kneeling on the floor, your tongue continuing to roll over his swollen tip.

A chuckle rumbled through Fili, having taken notice of your readied state, the sound even more clear to you than usual with one of your senses taken from you.

“Stand up, Amrâlimê,” he requested, helping guide you to your feet. Your legs felt shaky from how stimulated you were and you gripped his arms tightly, appreciating the strength in them and feeling the veins that weaved under the skin on his forearms.

You could still sense his presence near you, but it was difficult to tell exactly where he stood, having removed your hands from him and leaving you standing on your own. A shuddered breath left you when you suddenly felt his hand trace across your hip, slowly sliding up your waist.

“Shh, it’s okay Y/N, I’m right here,” he said against your ear, making goosebumps erupt across your skin.

Now his lips were on you, kissing over your shoulder, and even though they had been there earlier the addition of the blindfold made every touch from them feel all the more intense. The hair on his chest tickled your back and his cock brushed against your bum, feeling achingly hard from your previous attention.

“Fili…” you breathed out, appreciating every moment of heightened touch from your One. You felt his hands move lower, clutching both sides of your upper thighs as he knelt down to you, ready to give his own worship.

The sound of his breath seemed louder to you, coming in ragged pants, an indication at how excited he was to reciprocate the pleasure you had given him.

It was difficult to know what to do with yourself, standing slightly awkwardly and unable to reach any part of Fili with him on his knees behind you. But after a moment he gave you guidance, instructing you to bend forward slightly and press your hands against the wall in front of you.

His tone was rough when he gave his direction, and you shivered again, your body even more responsive to his voice with the absence of sight.

“I think you’re enjoying being blindfolded, Y/N,” he pointed out, and you could tell he was smiling.

You attempted a response but it came out as a cry when you felt Fili’s face meet with your core, his nose spreading your cheeks open to access your heat. His tongue slid between your folds and licked at you hungrily while he brought a hand around to your front to toy with your pulsing bud.

The uneven stone on the wall bit back at your fingertips as you clawed down it’s surface, desperate for something to ground you.

Agonizing pleasure ran through you as Fili probed his warm tongue into you, every pass of it feeling harsh but exquisite, and you no longer had control over the sounds spilling from your mouth or the convulsions of your body.

“Is this w-what you’re going to say we were doing when you explain to your uncle why we weren’t there tonight?” you panted out as Fili’s tongue drilled deeper into your heat.

He gave a muffled laugh that vibrated through you in response, but never paused in his mission. He dug his fingers into your flesh, giving a tight squeeze to your bum with the hand that wasn’t pressing circles on your clit, seeming to grow more ravenous the longer he dined on you.

Fili increased his pace knowing you were close to the edge, determined to make you come apart around his mouth. The sensation of his beard scratching over your most sensitive area combined with the smooth lapping of his tongue and the pressure of his nose on the taught area between your two holes had you shattering within seconds. Tremors vibrated through you and you pushed back harder into his face, riding out your accelerated high. Fili drank at your essence as it flowed from you, his moans of satisfaction drowned out by your unrestrained cries.

You opened your eyes when you landed from your peak, only to have your vision still compromised by the sash you had forgotten about in those moments of intensity. A dizzying sensation washed over you, feeling unable to get your bearings, but Fili was there to support you, standing and gripping your body in a reassuring way.

“Are you well, Y/N?” he asked huskily. You followed the sound of his voice as he moved to stand in front of you, it being the only thing to steady you, your body feeling weak and dazed from your orgasm and lack of sight.

You nodded as a reply, still working on catching your breath, knowing Fili would be watching for a response.

“Good,” he stated, attaching his lips to yours quickly and forcefully, catching you by surprise. “Because I’m not done with you yet,” he added when he parted from you momentarily.

Teeth and lips crashed together as your tongues sought to taste each other, your desperation building rapidly. You moaned into Fili’s mouth, relishing in the feel of his rigid shaft pressing against your tingling bud.

Fili growled, the sudden noise startling you slightly, but adding to your amusement. It was an act to restrain himself and you knew he couldn’t hold back anymore. You could feel his excitement radiating off of him, his skin almost vibrating as your hand grazed over his belly.

With a strength that would always amaze you, Fili lifted you and tossed your body onto the bed, the act making you laugh as you settled into the plush furs. Tucking your lip in your teeth and feeling your husband crawl over top of you, you imagined the level of ferocity that was about to be unleashed.

He settled himself between your spread legs, taking in the sight of you before him. The silk still covering your eyes, a bold smile breaking across your face, your chest rising and falling heavily with anticipation, and your wet core, primed and ready for him to plunge into.

No warning was given before he impaled you in one swift motion, his size filling and stretching you completely, your cries echoing through your chambers once more.

His need emanated through to you and your hips met his with hard thrusts, the sound of your bodies slapping against each other loud in your ears. Your hands clawed at his shoulders and back as you brought yourself closer to his body, not needing to see to know exactly where he was on you with his form engraved in your memory.

Desperate to taste him again, you found his lips with yours and he stole the breath straight from your lungs with every press to your mouth.

Fili had you so close to the edge again, your walls squeezing him tight with every push, a signal of your imminent release.

Fili gripped onto your hips and pulled out of you almost completely, looking down to see his member disappear again as he slammed back into you.

“Mahal, you should see how good you look taking me like this,” he grunted out, sounding feral.

He repeated the process multiple times, enjoying watching your folds slide over him, revealing and then encasing him again as he pumped in and out of you, fuelling your lust and a bit of frustration that you also weren’t able to enjoy the view.

Although your body was being jostled against the bed, the covering over your eyes remained securely in place, the elimination of sight allowing you to still feel every contact even more than usual.

A gasp left you as Fili pulled your hips up off the bed and further onto his lap, spreading you wider and reaching even further inside so his tip was now bombarding your deepest spot with every blow. Your fingers tore into his thighs that were supporting beneath your own, craving your next release. His mouth covered yours, wet and rough, the beads in his moustache tapping against your chin with his movements.

You could imagine what he looked like now, his face dripping with sweat, his brows furrowed and the most intense gaze from his blue eyes burning into you with his efforts. As much as you were enjoying the benefits of the blindfold, you couldn’t help but feel robbed of seeing your husband in all his glory of providing you flawless ecstasy.

Fili was ready to take his fall with you, the evidence clear in the loose moans coming from him and the sloppy kisses that landed across your chest. The sounds he made pushed you to your second climax, knowing he was fully indulging in everything you offered him and completely intoxicated by you. He drove into you with one last hard push, twitching against your walls as he filled you with his thick seed, the feeling of his hot spend and friction on your clit igniting another orgasm more intense than the first.

Fili collapsed over your torso, his skin sweaty against yours and body exhausted, trying to catch his breath as you both recovered from your peaks. Still remaining inside you, he carefully pulled the silk ribbon away from your eyes, revealing the soft illumination of your room to you again.

You blinked slowly as you adjusted to the glowing light, smiling as Fili came into focus above you, his blue eyes shining and dimples set deep in his cheeks. You reached your hands up to cup his face and kissed him lovingly, lost in the after-effects of your passionate endeavour.

Although you could never forget his face, you missed being able to see it even for that brief amount of time.

You continued to take him in, running the tips of your fingers over the lines on his face, stopping to press into the crease on his left cheek. It made him smile bigger at you and you automatically matched his grin.

“What are you thinking, Y/N?” he asked inquisitively.

“How this was far better than going to the feast,” you giggled.

Fili hummed in response as he rested his head on your chest and you wrapped your arms around him, stroking his hair and back languidly.

“Aren’t you glad I talked us out of going?” Fili asked, teasingly.

“I don’t think neither of us needed much convincing, my love,” you cooed to him, feeling his laugh rumble through you.

“Now to deal with the wrath of Thorin,” you added.

He sighed loudly against your chest, “Don’t remind me, Y/N.”

“I promise to make it all worth it.”

Fili turned his head to look at you and you flashed him a smile and a wink, letting him know you wouldn’t be having an early night despite staying home from the festivities.

#fili durin #fili the hobbit #fili #fili imagine #fili smut #fili x reader #fili x female reader #smut #talk you out of it #one shot #fili fanfic #blindfold #fili friday

[imalwaystiredzzz]

C3: Sisyphus happy. Yan Zhongli x Reader

Warning: Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationships.

< Sisyphus happy. chapters >

“You are still the kindest thing that ever happened to me, even if that is not how our tale is told.” ― Nikita Gill, (Persephone to Hades) Great Goddesses: Life Lessons from Myths and Monsters ══════════════════════════════════

Step by step by step. Any more and you would collapse, exhausted to the very core of your soul. You’d give anything to stop, to sleep, to rest on a shade of a tree.  In this realm, there is no god. There is only the boulder upon your back and prisoner set to carry it and the nightmare of this is that you can’t.

The dreams flow like the sands of time, holding for a moment and gone the next, blown by the wind, unforgiving to anything. Not even you.

“You should rest a bit more,” Zhongli would say, picking a dress that you would be wearing from an extensive wardrobe that he got you after moving to your new house while you sit on the dresser feeling as if this has happened before.

The white silk easy and comfortable on the skin in this summer heat is welcomed with open arms and you smile at him as thanks. While it is as simple, fitting for someone in your standing, the traditional embroidery, intricate symbols of the land decorated by the long body of a dragon, made it fashionable and familiar yet never having worn it before. A perfect fit on your small frame Zhongli would admire without looking, busy brushing your (h/c) hair. “I would dare say that it would even be better if you simply relaxed indoors with this heat.”

“Isn’t that like asking you to skip the day and stay with me.” You would slyly comment after he is finished, holding his hand and giving you the shubi(comb) to be kept in the drawer. Yet another gift that he has given, your lovely husband never failed to spoil as even a simple comb is adorned by jewels and a symbol of the geo. 

“Trust me dear, I’d rather see your face than have another conversation with Barbatos.” He brushes a strand and kisses your forehead before going to the kitchen so you may prepare his tea. You chuckle, thinking back to the nights that he would complain, long and trouble about his flighty acquaintance from the city. The drunkard from Mondstandt, who shirks his duties and plays around. ‘A disgrace to the arts,’ he would even grumble. 

Even in summer when the sun is high with its sweltering long days and short nights, the mornings have never changed. You slowly and carefully put the leaves on the pot, as Zhongli talks about a child that he has recently taken in. “I do not know how to handle a child, and he seems to be suffering from chronic pain…” His voice, drawled in the background like static in your head; everything slowing and blurring like an oncoming headache as you notice something in the bottom of the pot. 

The city who was protected by the god of geo, had loved and adored him, to the point that they would engrave it on their crafts it seems, you think staring at it wondering when exactly did Zhongli get this yixing teapot. It seems as if a long time has passed, so long that even you have begun to forget. 

“Zhongli, when did we get married again?” 

He stops and as if time had known a master so did the world. Neither the creak of the wood as he stood, nor the pads of his familiar footsteps and the shift of his clothes make a sound.

The walls have ears and the earth keeps your soul, the wind whispers as you begin to suffocate in his presence, the whole house feeling familiar yet foreign, like the back of your husband as he walks away.

Your heart is filled with regret, the sound of a closing door has resumed the ticking of a clock, while you are left in the kitchen, thoroughly alone with an empty cup and unfinished tea, left to pick up pieces of your routine with a question left unanswered. You stare at the catalyst of this disaster, only to find a plain pot and a headache from trying to remember what you were looking for. 

It's always in summer, when uncomfortable heat makes your joints hurt and head light, that an unusual day occurs, it is as if you were dreaming, and any moment you would soon wake to begin the day all over again. Yet you don’t and you hate this season even more.

It ends with you retreating to the garden, welcoming and always familiar with it’s peaceful quiet where you find yourself in solace. “This is solely yours,” Zhongli once said, the first and last time that he has stepped in the garden that he had made especially for you. 

Here you are safe. Here the plants sprout from the ground and nurtured to life with your own two hands are a pillar to your reality. Here, you are (y/n)(l/n), a simple herbalist and the ache from being under this heat on your skin that turns red, the pain in your bones as it creaks from crouching to be near the ground, the soil and leaves in your hands is familiar.

It is with plants harvested and crushed to medicine, intricately and methodologically, where you find yourself. 

You are (Y/n) (l/n). You are a herbalist as was your father and mother whom  you clung and learned from their hip since you understood how to speak, and you try to remember what permeated the air as they came home in the dusk. 

Did your mother’s warm hands perhaps carry the scent of flowers from all the Qingxin petals or had your father smelled of miasma from the dying?

The mountain with its afternoon air, for the first time, never felt so lonely that you had wished for the sun to come down for any company. 

“Maybe we should visit my parents.” You say while eating Jewelry soup, an offering of sorts for whatever happened earlier. He is quiet again, sighing when you spoke before he replies, “I’m unsure if you can make the trip, you are aware how sickly you are, right? I would have loved even to show you an opera.”

“What if they visit us, instead?”

“(y/n), you know how they’ve grown old, I’m worried for their fragile bones.” 

Lies. Lies. Lies. Something whispers in the back of your head as you stare at him, gouging for any hints that it is indeed a lie, yet his impassive face and sharp amber eyes brimming with sympathy tells otherwise; then there it was again a deja vu moment as if you’d had this conversation before and you are drowning in your own head. 

“Maybe one day when you are feeling better.” He kisses your hand, tender and long, holding it tightly as if it was painful to let go, as a silent apology. It pulls you out and grounds you, immensely thankful for his presence thinking where you would be without your husband?

“I’m sorry. “ Guilt overwhelms your heart and you do not tell him that you barely remember your parent’s face, rather you opt to look at the hands that clasp yours, like a prayer as he sighs almost like a hiccup to his impassive facade, and you think that he is simply exhausted from work and the long journey it takes everyday, simply because you needed to be here lest you compromise your health. Everything, everything he does is always for you, yet here you are pestering and giving him another headache when home is supposed to be where one rests their weariness. 

Tonight, it is you who blows the candles and let the house dissolve into the pitch black, until you are blind and all you can do is feel and hold his weary body against yours. Your husband who is always unmoving, adamant and akin to a pillar rather than a person who knows how to hide his emotions in little cracks, feels like a stranger in your arms as he silently falls apart, yet still speaks no words and hides his face in the dark.

And then you sleep, closing your eyes as another season passes, like a dream blurring in and out of focus. Forgetting the tiniest details, but Zhongli. 

Your dear husband who is the only constant. Your dear, beloved husband is always there smiling and telling you stories about memories long passed and if you looked in the corner of your eyes, he looks at you like you were too. 

You are (Y/n) (l/n).You are a gardener. You don’t know nor understand why those words repeat in your thoughts like a broken prayer of a sinner who has long been abandoned by his god. It is whispered like a plea, filled with sorrow and regret. The weight of these emotions bore on your fragile shoulders as if you were carrying a boulder on an uphill road and yet you cannot stop your steps. 

#TiredZ Sisyphus happy #yandere zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin imagines #geshin impact #yandere zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you

[kurowrites]

Since you like cute fluffy prompts, how about everyone assumes LWJ and WWX will end up together for political reasons (which is fine, it's a smart match) but then slowly come to the realization that they actually really like each other?

Celebratory arranged marriage fic! This is probably not what you expected, but oh well! :D

---

"Wangji, are you sure this is what you want?" Lan Xichen asked.

Lan Xichen had invited Lan Wangji to the Hanshi to have tea with him, and although Lan Wangji had expected his brother to have something on his mind that he did not want to discuss in front of their uncle, he would have preferred if his brother had not voiced his concerns. It would have made things... easier.

Lan Wangji studied the bottom of his teacup for a long time before he was able to raise his gaze to meet the concerned eyes of his brother and speak.

"Xiongzhang," he finally said. "I have agreed to the proposal. I am not... unwilling. I never expected to fall in love."

Lan Xichen looked like he wanted to say something, but one glance from Lan Wangji had him maintain his silence.

"I do not place value on such impermanent emotions. To have a steady companion will be enough."

"Oh, Wangji," Lan Xichen sighed. "Sometimes I fear Uncle has had too much success with your education. You deserve to be loved, you know?"

Lan Wangji did not know how to reply to that.

He was not unhappy, that was the truth.

He had long known that a political marriage would be an inevitability, eventually. The steadily aggravating situation with the Qishan Wen sect, Jin Guangshan's own questionable ambitions; it had only been a matter of time until the other sects saw their hand forced. It was only natural that they would want to strengthen their own alliances and raise their defences. Arranged marriages were only too common in situations as these.

He should be glad, he thought, that his chosen partner would be Wei Wuxian. His uncle might not be as happy with the choice, might have preferred someone else, perhaps a woman. But to Lan Wangji, it had been the best choice out of the few that he had had. The Gusu Lan and Yunmeng Jiang sects needed a stronger alliance, and barring marrying Jiang Wanyin himself, Wei Wuxian had been the best choice. Naturally, Madam Yu would insist that Jiang Wanyin's wife would be a woman, someone that could bear the future sect heir.

Thinking rationally, choosing Wei Wuxian had been less of a choice and more of a given. The marriage needed to be both strong in terms of the ties that it created, but also unoffensive enough so that no other sects would object.

The only other possible choice would have been Nie Huaisang. But considering that Nie Mingjue and Lan Xichen were already sworn brothers, the alliance to the Jiang sect took precedence.

Lan Xichen sighed again.

"I just want you to be happy, Wangji."

"I am content, Xiongzhang. There is no cause for unhappiness."

His brother said nothing, but Lan Wangji could read his thoughts on his face.

After all, he had deliberately evaded referring to himself as 'happy.'

---

When he had agreed to the marriage, he had thought about Wei Wuxian, and felt a sliver of worry. Lan Wangji might be content to marry for politics, and settle for nothing more than a companion, but he had always felt that Wei Wuxian would want more than that.

Wei Wuxian had always been a passionate person; it followed that he would be a passionate man when it came to love, as well.

Instead, he was going to marry Lan Wangji.

Would he be content with simple companionship? Lan Wangji had considered it once, offering Wei Wuxian the opportunity to practice... certain activities outside the marriage, to keep a lover on the side. But something deep inside him rebelled against the idea. He didn't know if he would be able to live with the knowledge that his husband would seek the embrace of another.

And Wei Wuxian had agreed to the marriage, after all. He had known who Lan Wangji was when he agreed, and he had known the conditions attached to the marriage.

Still, there was the smallest nagging voice in the back of his head that told him that someone like Wei Wuxian was made for love. Not for marrying men like Lan Wangji for the sake of politics. He still remembered when Wei Wuxian had visited Cloud Recesses for the first time. He had heard that Wei Wuxian had calmed down a little since he had become an adult, but Lan Wangji remembered all too well how much of a flirt he had been, how openly he had carried all his emotions on his sleeve. Wei Wuxian had not been made for politics.

Still, the marriage would happen. They had both agreed to the proposal, their families had agreed to the proposal. Soon, they would be here, and Lan Wangji would be a married man.

---

"So," Wei Wuxian smiled once they were finally alone, back in the familiar quiet of the Jingshi. "Looks like we're married, huh? I feel a little bad for you - you must have wanted a nice, quiet wife, and yet here you are, with someone who's neither nice, quiet, nor a wife."

He let his eye wander over the room in front of him, and Lan Wangji wondered what it looked like to Wei Wuxian's eyes. As the rest of Cloud Recesses, it must seem like a horribly boring place to him.

Lan Wangji himself had no eyes for the room in front of him, however. He looked at Wei Ying, resplendent in his red wedding robes, and tried to remember if Wei Wuxian had already been this handsome before, or if the maids had simply done an excellent job in anticipation of the wedding ceremony. He truly looked like a heavenly prince, in his red robes, his hair half done up with an elaborate braid, decorated with a hair piece that had been part of Lan Wangji's betrothal gifts.

"What about the living arrangements?" Wei Wuxian asked, rousing Lan Wangji from his thoughts.

Lan Wangji frowned. "It is customary that we share the Jingshi with each other."

Wei Wuxian sent him a look he found difficult to decipher.

"Is that what you want?" he asked. "Forgive me my bluntness, Lan Zhan, but I cannot help but think that my presence here will be a disturbance for you. I don't want to force you into bearing my presence and suffer my noise. I know you don't like to be touched; you can hardly be wanting to share a bed with me."

Lan Zhan felt his heart thump loudly. He had considered before that it was possible that Wei Wuxian might insist on a token marriage. That was essentially what it was, after all. But now that he was faced with Wei Wuxian's evident dislike of the idea to cohabit, he found himself... disappointed.

"I had hoped for companionship," he found himself saying, hardly even knowing what he was doing. "I- No. It does not matter. If you are unwilling to share quarters, I will look for another room. The Jingshi is yours."

His answer was met with wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Lan Zhan!" Wei Wuxian exclaimed. "Why would you think I'd be unwilling to share? Or throw you out of your own home? I was trying to be respectful of your wishes! I-"

He suddenly fell silent.

"Wei Ying."

Wei Wuxian sent him another unreadable look.

But Lan Wangji was good at waiting people out. He stood there, silent, as he studied the beautiful embroidery on Wei Wuxian's robes, and watched his husband consider his answer.

"I had hoped for a hug," Wei Wuxian suddenly burst out. "That's it. I know I can't expect much from this marriage, Lan Zhan, and I don't want to force you into anything you don't want to, but I had hoped for at least a hug, now and then.  If I can't-"

He bit his lips and fidgeted with the seams of his robes.

"Look at me, doing my best to fuck this marriage up on the wedding night," he said, laughing quietly, even though there was nothing funny about it.

"Wei Ying," Lan Wangji said again. Wei Ying looked at him, and Lan Wangji was almost sure there was something akin to fear in his eyes.

That was… distasteful. He did not want his own husband to be afraid of him. And he would never want-

He himself remembered a time when a hug had been all he had wanted, but he had never had the courage to ask for it. And now, all he had left was the bitter taste of regret.

He tried to find the right words that would adequately express that he was willing to work for the success of this marriage, token or not. That he was willing to accommodate Wei Wuxian, within the realms of possibility. They had both agreed to this marriage. They had to pay the price.  

But the words would not come, not as he wanted them to.

In the end, he could do nothing but uselessly lift his arms.

"I will hug Wei Ying," he said.

It was terribly nonsensical and did not help in illustrating the point he was trying to make. But Wei Wuxian smiled a sudden, brilliant smile, and stepped right into his arms as if it were nothing.

"Mh," Wei Wuxian said, his face pressed into Lan Zhan's shoulder.

And Lan Wangji closed his arms, giving the promised hug.

Maybe that was enough, for now.

---

The next morning, Lan Wangji woke before dawn, as he always did.

For once, however, things were a little different.

On this morning, he woke with Wei Wuxian still in his embrace, his face buried in Lan Wangji’s shoulder, occasionally huffing out a deep breath that warmed Lan Wangji’s skin through his wrinkled robe.

Lan Wangji considered his new reality for a moment. He decided that the assessment he had given his brother had been accurate:

He might just be able to be contented, indeed.

#kuro writes #the untamed #wei wuxian #lan wangji #wangxian #mdzs #terratenshi

[keanureevesisbae]

But professor… - c.5

Summary: A few weeks have gone by. How are Penny and Walter doing?

Professor!Walter Marshall x Penny Townsend (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 5k

Warnings: Some sweet love making (sex, fingering, blowjob - yes, it’s sweet love making)

Masterlist // But professor… masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Five weeks have gone by. It’s been five whole weeks since Walter and I kissed for the first time. My days are spend mostly in the library, sometimes in my own dorm or—and this is my favorite—with Walter in his loft. I love spending time in his loft, because there aren’t any loud students in the hallways, obviously intoxicated and think they’re funny by knocking at my door and telling me they’ll pee against it. It’s just him and me in his loft, together with some soft lofi music in the background as he continues to make food for me, totally spoil me with everything I want and basically help me with all my assignments.

I haven’t told anyone about us. As if there are people who—beside my parents—I could tell. How do you even bring it up? ‘Hi, my name is Penny and I kiss my criminology professor almost on a daily basis and I’m totally and utterly in love with him?

Nope, that is not gonna work.

There are many things I love about us spending time together. The attentive way he pays attention to everything I say. How he sits with me on the couch, helping me get through my assignments, but also to check out different cosmetology schools for me to maybe enroll. I still haven’t quite decided yet whether or not I want to do that.

I mean, I want to, but how do I sell this grand idea to my parents, who really want me to go to NYU and finish my major?

But maybe it’s the way he takes care of me that I love the most about it all. It sounds so codependent, I know, but there is no one who ever gave me attention like this, not even my parents. My parents didn’t understand my love for embroidery, for nail art and doing my hair. They didn’t understand I wanted a sewing machine for my sixteenth birthday, instead of a car.

No guy in my life went out of his way for me. No breakfast in bed, no asking permission whether or not he could touch me and no one who was willing to put up with all my anxious thoughts.

Walter on the other hand, he does it all. He understands my love for embroidery (he even allowed me to put some on his shirt), he lets me try out products on his hair and takes his sweet time with me.

Today, the long weekend starts, meaning we have time off from Friday till Tuesday. It’s Friday night when I’m finally back at my dorm. I open the door and when I want to lock it once I’m inside, it doesn’t seem to work.

That’s weird.

I might not have any knowledge when it comes to this, but I quickly come to the conclusion that it only works when I lock it from the outside, not the inside.

Great, it’s Friday night and the thought alone of me spending the night with a door that doesn’t lock, causes shivers down my spine. I grab my phone and call the only one I can think of.

‘Hi princess, what’s up?’ Walter asks as he answers the phone.

My heart shouldn’t skip a beat or two, but it does. It always does. ‘My lock isn’t working properly,’ I say, trying to lock my door again, but still nothing seems to happens. ‘It only locks and unlocks from the outside.’

‘Hm, we can’t call a locksmith right now,’ he says. ‘You’re not sleeping there tonight. Go pack your stuff, lock the door and then tomorrow we’ll call someone to check it out. I’d absolutely hate it if you were to stay there.’

I smile. ‘Okay.’

‘I’ll pick you up at the station. I’ll text you when I’m there and when you leave, share your location.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Just to make sure that I am not stepping in a car with a serial killer, I check once more if Walter really is in the truck. Through the droplets of water on my glasses I find it hard to focus, but seeing that smile, makes me realize I’ve got the right truck. I open the door and get in.

‘Hello,’ I say with a smile. ‘I’m so sorry that I look like a drowned kitten. New York weather isn’t too kind on me.’

‘Nonsense,’ he chuckles. ‘Drowned kitten or not, you look absolutely adorable. Now come here and give me a kiss.’ He leans into my direction and I meet him half way to press a long kiss on his lips. ‘You’re so beautiful, princess,’ he whispers against my lips, before he starts up the truck. As he drives off the vacant parking lot, he places his hand on my thigh.

‘It was quite hard to find the car,’ I admit. ‘In all my hastiness I forgot to put in my lenses and my glasses don’t come with wipers.’

He smiles. ‘I missed your glasses. They look so sweet on you.’

‘You think?’

‘Yes,’ he says without thinking. ‘Can’t believe your lock doesn’t work. What a shitty dorm you stay in.’

‘Kinda.’

I don’t know if he’s consciously doing or not, but his hand pushes up my dress. He places his hand a little above my knee. ‘Is this okay, princess?’

‘Yes,’ I say. Thankfully the truck allows me to scoot over a little and place my head on his shoulder. I wrap my arms around his thick one and let out a content sigh as I take in his cologne. ‘Thank you for picking me up,’ I whisper. ‘For protecting me.’

‘Oh, that’s only natural,’ he says.

When we’re at his apartment building, I finally am able to hold his hand as we walk up to the elevator. I hate this part of his apartment, since it’s partially underground and it’s really dark to get to the elevator. Walter holds my backpack in his other hand and squeezes my fingers. The second he closes the door of his loft, he carefully places my bag on the floor, before he helps me out of my coat.

‘Ah, princess, you’re cold.’

I don’t really care. I stand on my toes to give him a kiss, a long one. I’ve been yearning for his touch the entire day. We’re taking it slow—painfully slowly for that matter—but maybe it’s a good thing we do. Two weeks ago, he gave me a kiss, his hand sliding down from my lower back to my ass, which caused me to stiffen up completely. It’s ridiculous. I love it when he touches me, when he pulls me on his lap and he gives me intense kisses.

Yet I sometimes stiffen up completely.

My fingers push up his sweater and I touch his bare sides. He holds my face in his rough hands, softly caressing my cheeks. ‘Princess, wait a minute. As much as I want this, I don’t want to force you.’ He pushes some stray baby hairs out of my face. ‘You’re tense.’

‘I’m not tense,’ I tell him.

‘You kinda are, sweetheart.’

I let out a sigh. ‘Okay, maybe I am a little, but that is just because I’m nervous. I want this with you, Water. I trust you, it’s just that no one has ever seen me naked before.’

He nods, pecking my forehead. ‘We can just take a shower first,’ he suggests. ‘But only if you want. I need you to be honest with me.’

‘I want this with you,’ I whisper. ‘I really do. A shower sounds great.’

‘Allow me to show you the way.’

✎ ✎ ✎

The water is running and Walter’s already in the shower. I saw him naked and he is… Big, tall and broad in all sorts of ways to say the least. I mean, I’ve seen some porn and while I am aware that’s fake and unrealistic, I’m kinda confused now.

Walter comes so close to it, what if it isn’t fake?

I take off my vest, before I shred myself from my other pieces of clothing. I watch as my lacy pink underwear drops to the floor and I take a deep breath.

I want this, no need to be nervous. It’s just Walter. He told me I’m beautiful many many times, that won’t change when he sees me like this, right? He saw me in my underwear once, that time I changed into his shirt right before we went bed. I remember him smirking, whispering I was so damn gorgeous and that if I wanted, I should just sleep next to him like this.

I open the shower curtain, causing Walter to turn around and he smiles widely when his eyes land on me. He holds out his hand, so he can help me in the cubicle. My eyes dart around, anywhere but to him.

‘If you don’t want to do this,’ he whispers, ‘just tell me.’ He places his hands on my upper arms and adds: ‘Princess, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Really, we can take as much time as you want.’

‘I want this,’ I whisper. ‘Really, I do.’

He nods. ‘I think,’ he says, ‘you are absolutely breathtaking. There is no one out there who can compete with you.’

‘Thank you,’ I say in a soft tone, finally looking into his eyes. ‘You’re handsome.’

He buffs out his hairy chest and I place my hands on it as I let out a nervous chuckle. ‘I want you to breath, Penny.’

‘I am breathing.’

‘No,’ he chuckles, ‘you’re holding your breath. There is absolutely no need to be nervous. It’s just me.’

‘It’s not just you,’ I say. ‘You’re my professor, my boyfriend.’

He nods. ‘Don’t you worry about that, you already got your straight A,’ he jokes.

I wrap my arms around his waist and I hide my face in his chest. ‘You know, I’ve been thinking about going to cosmetology school, so your grade doesn’t really matter anyway.’

‘How are you gonna tell your parents?’

‘I don’t know,’ I whisper. ‘You helped me with figuring out who I am, I bet you’ll help me with this as well. Besides, if I do cosmetology school, I can start in February.’

‘You’re gonna finish your semester here?’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure yet.’

‘Well, whatever you do, know that I’m proud of you. And when you leave your dorm, you can stay here for the time being. Is better for my heart anyways, I don’t like you staying in those sleazy dorms.’

I can’t help but smile. ‘You’re too sweet.’ I place my chin on his chest and he leans down to give me a peck on my lips. His kisses continue to be soft, causing goosebumps to appear on my entire skin. His touches are light, his hands squeezing in the soft flesh of my hips. ‘The second you feel uncomfortable,’ he says again, ‘you tell me. I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘I know, Walter.’ I hold his face in between my hands, pulling him in for another kiss. The warm stream of water massages my back, as Walter pulls me closer to him. I softly gasp for air as my chest is firmly pressed against his. His lips descend from my mouth to my nape and I’m pretty sure he is leaving marks.

‘Does that feel good, princess?’

‘It does,’ I whimper, as a buzzing warmth starts to form between my legs.

His hands slide up from my hips to my waist and they stay underneath my breasts, his thumbs slightly touching them. ‘Can I?’

I nod. ‘Please, please, yes.’

‘We’re already getting a little needy?’ he chuckles, as his hands cup my breasts. His thumbs toy with my stiffened nipples and I squeal of the unfamiliar sensation. ‘That’s my girl,’ he says with a smile, before giving me a long kiss on my lips. ‘You have no idea how lucky I am.’

✎ ✎ ✎

Walter has carried me to his bed, not caring to dry off either of our bodies. I could sense it in the shower, him becoming more and more desperate. His hands kneading into my flesh, his kisses growing rougher and him pushing my back against the cold shower wall, left him with a satisfied grin as I finally made a little bit of sound.

He has spread my legs, kissing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. He wraps his strong arms around my hips, his broad shoulders preventing me from closing my legs together. ‘Can you relax for me?’ he asks me, his hot breath against my throbbing slit.

‘I’m very relaxed,’ I say in a hoarse tone.

‘Unclench those fists for me then,’ he says and only then I realize my hands are balled into fists. ‘I want you to enjoy it, okay?’

‘Okay,’ I whisper. ‘What do I do with my hands?’

He smiles. ‘Run them through my hair,’ he says. ‘Can you do that for me?’

I nod, reaching down with my hands to grab some of his soft hair. ‘I don’t look hideous?’

Walter places his head against my inner thigh, looking up with nearly a pained expression. ‘Princess, why would you say that?’

I shrug. ‘Just a question.’

‘You’re beautiful, every part of you.’ He lets his tongue slide through my slit, before he wraps his lips around my clit. My back arches off the mattress and when the vibrations of his groans hit my sensitive bud, I let out a moan. Faster than my own shadow, I place a hand over my mouth, hoping to muffle out those sounds.

‘No, princess,’ he says, looking up. ‘Don’t do that. I want to hear those pretty sounds.’

It’s hard to let go. It’s hard to make sounds, to let him know how he makes me feel. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘I… I don’t know.’

‘You’re doing great, sweetheart. Nothing to be embarrassed about.’ He gives my thighs a reassuring squeeze, before he dives back in, this time hungrier than before. I can’t help but clench my thighs together, nearly crushing his head between them. I pull his hair, as his tongue draws circles around my clit.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, I think to myself. This feels so foreign, so—

A sob leaves my lips, interrupting my thoughts as my toes start to curl. My hips buck up and an unfamiliar feeling washes over me. This tension I had stored in my entire body, nearly slips out of my body, as I shake on the bed. Tears run over my cheeks and I hide my face in my hands. ‘Stop, please, stop,’ I whimper.

I can’t see what Walter’s doing, but I feel the bed dip beside me. ‘Princess,’ he whispers to me, his arm wrapping around my waist, ‘you did so well for me.’

I press my legs together, as I catch my breath. ‘Walter, it’s sensitive.’

Walter pushes some strands of my hair back, before peeling my hands from my face.  ‘It usually is. I almost think you never masturbated before.’

My cheeks burn up and I hate that he can see it. ‘I have, but… Never orgasmed before.’

He gives me a kiss and says: ‘I see, I see. How did it feel?’

‘It felt good,’ I whisper, before I clear my throat.

Walter must sense my insecurities, because his tone is soft when he says: ‘I’m proud of you.’ He does all the right things for me to relax. His fingertips draw figures on my skin, he kisses the left over tears away and whispers sweet little nothings in my ear, almost as if he wants to sooth me. ‘Do you want to continue?’

‘I do, I do,’ I quickly say.

Walter moistens his fingers between his lips, before he reaches down. My hips involuntarily buck up as they brush passed my sensitive clit, earning myself a low chuckle from Walter. As he gently pushes in one finger as he lays beside me, I wrap my arm around his shoulders. ‘Kiss me,’ I whisper.

He obliges without letting a second, slamming his plump lips on mine. I melt against him, his warmth radiating against my body. He pushes in another finger, slowly stretching me out as I whimper against his lips.

‘You’re doing great, sweetheart,’ he tells me, when he feels my digits wrapped around his thick wrist. ‘You feel so good around my fingers.’

I don’t even think about it, but the words: ‘I need you,’ leave my lips before I know it.

‘You do now?’

Oh, we’re getting cocky?

He pumps in his fingers, in a slow pace. ‘Good thing I need you too.’ His thumb brushes against my clit and when I clench around his fingers and I feel that same feeling bubbling up deep inside me, he stops. Pulls out his fingers and I let out a whine. ‘Want me to use a condom, darling?’

I nod. I might be inexperienced, but I am not that daft to risk a pregnancy. Especially since I’m not on the pill. He grabs one from the bedside table, rolls it on and sits in between my legs.

I don’t want to say it, but I worry. He is big and I have no idea if it’s gonna fit. What if it hurts? Oh no, what if I’m one of those women that start bleeding during her first time? Leave it up to me to bleed a gallon and having to go to the emergency room.

‘Okay, you need to get out of your head,’ he says, as he teases his tip near my aching entrance. ‘Don’t you worry a thing, okay?’

‘I’ll try, Walter,’ I say in a shaky tone. ‘What if it hurts?’

‘Then you tell me,’ he says, squeezing my leg. ‘Princess, it would help if you stopped worrying.’

‘I’m trying,’ I say. ‘I really am.’ This is not the time to cry, Penny. Don’t you dare—

It’s too late. A hot tear rolls over my cheek, followed by many more and Walter quickly pulls me up. I sit on his thick legs, his arms wrapped tightly around me. ‘We can stop, Penny,’ he says. ‘We really can.’

I shake my head. ‘I don’t want to,’ I whisper. ‘I’m just afraid it’ll hurt.’

He nods. ‘We’ll take it slow, okay? We have the entire night. Heck, we have the entire weekend.’

‘But I want to do it now,’ I say. In a softer tone I add: ‘I want you, Walter. I need you.’

He gently places me on my back again, nearly suffocating me with kisses, causing me to laugh. With his lips locked on mine, he pushes in his tip. I dig my nails in his strong back. ‘Feels good?’

‘It does,’ I groan. ‘More, I can handle it.’

He slowly sinks in, my walls wrapping closely and tightly around him. Walter lets out a growl like sound, stilling his motions. ‘My girl,’ he chuckles, ‘I’m so proud of you. Taking me in like it’s nothing.’

‘You’re proud of me? Really?’ I ask.

‘I wouldn’t lie to you, princess.’ He allows me to stretch around him. He pats my thigh a few times, before giving it a squeeze. Walter checks one more time if I’m ready and when I nod, he pulls out, before carefully sliding back in.

The thrusts are soft. His bed slightly creaks every time he buries himself back into me. The room is filled with his grunts and loving words and with my hoarse gasps. I wipe away my tears with the back of my hand, as I take in this unknown, but pleasurable feeling.

‘Faster,’ I whisper. ‘Please.’

‘You sure?’

‘Mhm.’

Not only do the thrusts grow faster, but slightly harder as well and those soft gasps of mine, quickly turn into something louder. A thin layer of sweat on both of our bodies. My legs wrapped tightly around his hips.

I flutter around his hard member, causing him to smile. ‘I can already feel it again, sweetheart,’ he says. ‘You’re close?’

A nod is all I can muster.

My toes curl, my breathing stops and the wave of euphoria washes over me. Tears drip over my face and I whimper: ‘Stop, stop, stop.’

He listens instantly and as the shocks run through my body, the aftermath of my second orgasm, he stills inside of me. ‘Too sensitive?’

‘I’m sorry, but yes.’

‘Don’t be sorry, don’t be,’ he tells me. ‘You did amazing, princess. Want me to pull out?’

I simply nod and I softly sniffle as he does. He’s still hard as a rock and he peels off the condom, throwing it in the bin. I push myself up and give him a kiss. ‘What about you?’

‘It’s okay, sweetheart.’

‘No, I… I can help,’ I awkwardly suggest. ‘I mean, I never done that before and I have no idea how to, but I think I can do it.’

‘You don’t have to.’

‘But I want to.’

He smiles. ‘Well, I can’t compete with that.’ He scoots over to the edge of the bed, gentle pulling me with him. ‘Go sit right there, sweetheart.’ I kneel on the carpet in between his legs and I take a deep breath. He holds my hand, guiding it to his hard member. I wrap my fingers around it, the tips not even touching. He leads the way as to how I need to move my hand. ‘You can squeeze a bit,’ he tells me.

I moisten my lips. ‘Can I?’

He nods. ‘Careful with your teeth,’ he says. ‘And don’t force it, princess.’

I open my mouth and let my tongue circle around his tip, before I wrap my lips around it. It earns me a low and sultry moan, and I look up. ‘Is it okay?’ I ask.

‘It’s perfect.’

As I slowly pump him without any guidance of Walter, I slowly try to get more and more of him inside my mouth. I don’t want my first ever blowjob experience to end with vomit, so I’m not forcing myself in a pornographic kind of way, where I nuzzle my nose into his pubes.

I mean, that would probably be impossible for me anyway.

Walter runs his fingers through my hair, slowly guiding me into bopping up and down. When I hollow my cheeks, the grip on my hair turns a bit harsher. ‘Shit, princess, you sure it’s your first time?’

I softly moan around him and he pulls back my head. With some drool dripping over my chin, I continue to pump him. His grunts fill the room, as warm spurts of cum land on my chest. The tight muscles in his entire body tense up, his hips bucking up to meet my hand. His jaw clenched, muffled groans.

That might’ve been the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

Completely enthralled in Walter, I barely notice that his cum has both painted my chest, but also the lower part of my face. ‘I was not planning on this,’ he chuckles, wiping my chin clean with his thumb. He pushes it passed my lips and I taste the saltiness of his cum on my tongue.

‘Was it good?’ I ask him.

‘It sure was, darling.’ He stands up and pulls me back on my feet. ‘But we do need another shower now.’

✎ ✎ ✎

After a warm shower, we’re securely tucked underneath the blankets. I nuzzle against his naked frame with mine and he holds me tightly against him. ‘Penny,’ he says in a low tone, ‘I am falling in love with you.’

I smile, my heart warming at his lovely confession. ‘I’m falling for you too,’ I say, ‘like head over heels in love with you.’

His grip on me tightens a bit. ‘You know, in a few weeks, we have Christmas break,’ he says. ‘You’ve got any plans?’

‘Originally I wanted to go back to Maryland,’ I say, ‘but my parents probably want me to enjoy the college experience and kinda force me to have fun with friends.’ I let out a soft laugh. ‘As if I have any friends.’

He scoffs. ‘You’ll get the friends you deserve when the time is right, princess. But, just so we’re clear: you and I can spend a lot of time together during Christmas?’

I lean on my elbow so I can look at him again. ‘Of course. What did you have in mind?’

‘A little trip,’ he says. ‘Outside of New York, so we can stop sneaking around for a bit. Where do you want to go?’

‘I don’t mind,’ I say, ‘as long as I’m with— Oh, we could go to Las Vegas.’

He smiles. ‘You want to spend Christmas in Las Vegas?’ he asks.

I tilt my head, all of the sudden not so sure anymore about my Las Vegas idea. ‘Maybe Hawaii then?’

Am I hallucinating or did it just seem like Walter’s eyes turned into little hearts? ‘You’ve got quite the expensive taste, princess.’

Instantly I feel bad. He is obviously gonna pay for a lot of it, since I barely have any money. ‘Oh, sorry. You pick something, something less expensive. I don’t mind where we’re going.’

‘No, no, no,’ he says, ‘Hawaii could actually be it. Want to be surprised or want in on the planning?’

‘Surprised,’ I tell him. ‘Oh my goodness, Walter, this is so exciting. I can’t wait to spend all my time with you.’ I lean in to give him a kiss and he smiles against my lips. ‘I love you,’ I whisper, when he lets me go.

‘You do?’ A cocky grin forms on his lips and he says: ‘I love you more.’ He peppers me with kisses, tickles my sides and my squeals fill the room. ‘I love you so fucking much, I’m never gonna let anything happen to you, okay? You know that right?’

I bite my lip. ‘Of course I know that,’ I whisper, pushing back some of his hair. ‘I’ll forever know it.’

✎ ✎ ✎

The next morning, I see Walter standing in the kitchen, his back turned towards me. I sneak over to him, but he wouldn’t be the detective he is if he didn’t notice me already. ‘Princess, I can hear you.’

I instantly stop tiptoeing. ‘I know,’ I laugh, ‘but it was worth the shot. You’re such a  good detective.’

He chuckles, before lifting me up, placing me on the clean counter. He leans over to peck my lips. ‘How are you feeling?’

I nod. ‘I’m good, just… A little sore.’

Walter seems oddly proud of himself. ‘Oh, really?’

‘Yeah, my jaw too.’

He dumps the wooden spatula in the pan, turns the stove down low, before he stands in between my legs, wrapping his arms around my waist. ‘Well, princess, you did great last night. I’m so proud of you.’

‘You liked it?’ I ask, still a little unsure of how I performed last night. I mean, I never done it before and Walter probably had plenty of sex, because hello, have you seen that man? The fact that he wasn’t taken before we met is a miracle to me.

Walter buries his face in my neck, pressing sloppy kisses on my delicate skin as his beard is probably leaving some red marks, but I don’t care. ‘What do you think, princess?’ he asks. ‘Of course I liked it. Heck, I loved it. I love you, Penelope Townsend. I love you and only you. There is no need for you to be insecure.’ The sloppy kisses have moved to my lips, Walter’s parted lips against mine, his tongue exploring mine.

I arch my back, leaning into his touch, but something burns in my heart. Insecurities, that voice that tells me I’m not good enough for him and that last night was terrible. Before I can even stop it, warm tears roll over my face. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper, my voice breaking mid sentence. ‘I don’t know why.’

Walter softly shushes me, whispering it’s okay. ‘It was a lot,’ he says, ‘quite the experience.’ He kisses my tears away and says: ‘Princess, it’s alright, no need to cry, okay?’

‘I’m totally overreacting,’ I hiccup.

‘No, you’re not,’ he retorts. When he sees it’s not working, he pulls my head to his chest, pressing kisses on my hair, before he wraps his arms around my body. ‘How about breakfast first and then a hot shower?’ he suggests.

‘A shower with you?’

‘If you want,’ he says.

I nod. ‘Sounds good to me.’

✎ ✎ ✎

As we’re standing underneath the warm streams of water, Walter massages my scalp as he washes my hair, lathers my body with soap and fantasizes about our future trip together. ‘I can’t wait for you and I to be together for an unlimited amount of time.’

I smile, thinking about the idea of waking up to him, eating breakfast, lunch and dinner with him and walking around, holding his hand. ‘Me neither.’

Slowly but surely, the insane insecurities are something of the past, however I still know that if I think about it too long, my hands start to shake and I overthink it all. Before that can actually happen, Walter makes sure to distract me with kisses, with touches and telling me silly things he wants to do when he and I get to Hawaii.

‘We’re really going to Hawaii?’

‘Of course,’ he says, turning me around so I can look at him. ‘Because Hawaii is a perfect place for us to spend Christmas.’

‘What do I need to wear?’ I ask. ‘I don’t know how warm it is there.’

‘Let’s start with a bathing suit,’ Walter cheekily says, causing me to roll my eyes. ‘Just some light outfits,’ he whispers. ‘Honestly, princess, you look beautiful no matter what you wear.’

‘Is it expensive?’ I ask. ‘A trip to Hawaii.’

‘Don’t you worry your pretty little head over that, I’ve got it covered.’

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