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mo-aiki · 2 months

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One-sided Love Exist... (Yandere Fiancé x F. Reader)

Summary: You have been in love with your fiancé, but all you know is that he isn't in love with you until you do something about it.

Notes: I got this inspiration from @mayulla, their story is here. Also, I might or might not do a part 2 for this story so wait on that

Warning: fake love, forced love, obsession, I don't condone these behaviors, I just write it.

Love.

Something you have always wished for to happen to you. All of the love stories you have read. You wished to be the princess saved by her knight or to be a princess who saves the one she loves. That was all you wanted. A knight or a prince in shining armor. That's where your fiancé came in.

A duke's son. Your fiancé, Alaric de Caius. He had seemed to fit the mold, perfectly. He looked regal and handsome with his black hair and dark blue eyes. You were only 9 when you had met him, but you couldn't help but smile when you first saw him.

Overtime you had absolutely fallen in love with him. He was a man of morals, he believe in the same things as you of what was right and wrong, he was academically talented, he was athletically talented, and he treated people around him the same whether or not they held a title.

A wonderful man.

But the problems arose when you had seen he had never paid attention towards you.

He never looked you way, seemed to say anything towards you, or seem to acknowledge you at all.

"Good morning Alaric!"

He wouldn't look.

You didn't understand why he ignored you. His indifference towards you, hurt. You didn't know if it was your ego that was hurting or it was truly your heart that was hurting, but something was in pain. But you didn't give up! Both of you were bound to get married to each other, one day!

Often talking to him first, soon enough he responded.

Bringing sweets such as cookies or sweet bread from the kitchen. Watching him eat it with no signs of disgust, might have made your day.

But you must also strive hard too! To be worthy of being a Duchess, you must help him by studying, taking up hobbies such as perfecting painting, embroidery and writing poems that have deep meanings. You must also know how to manage a household, so you asked your father if you could learn how to manage the servant's wages and everything going on in the household.

Everything you did was for him.

You did not partake in gossip with your bestest of friends, you didn't spread malicious rumors about someone, and you tried not to do the most selfish thing if there was a selfless option. Your friends, love you but saw you in pain. "Why do you do these stressful things (y/n)?" they would constantly ask.

"Because I am going to be future Duchess one day, I must prepare!" You would say cheerfully.

Alina Thompson.

Her family was new money. Her father was a merchant who was able to strike gold in selling a once thought, rare ore. Opening trades with the east, she has risen to become the daughter or Baron Thompson.

Your friends didn't like her. One of them saying, "There is something off about her..." and another saying, "Why does she look at Duke Caius like that..."

You had brought it up to Alaric one day. He said there was, "Nothing to worry about, she is just an acquaintance.", and at first you didn't worry, heck you even befriended her. She was pretty. Her hair, long and blonde, her eyes a bright green color like emeralds, and her smile the brightest you have ever seen. She often wore pink and you did as well. But she always seemed to not get along with your friends after a few meetings. Or any noble women in fact. She had always stirred the pot with the other women in high society, supposedly acting different as if she had 2 different personalities in front of others. But she had always gotten along with the men. They spoke high praises of her. From her looks to personality. She even had admirers of her own. She was perfect, but most women disliked her. But you didn't think anything of it.

Until the day of the royal ball.

You saw with your very own eyes. Alaric's arm, being held by her's. She had the brightest, most shameless smile that day. All the men looked uncomfortable while the women were shocked. It was no secret that you and Alaric were engaged. And it was definitely no secret that you were in love with him.

They danced together. They wore matching outfits. Even the flowers on both of their corsages were the same. He had smiled at her as they were dancing. He gave her, her first dance of high society at her first ball, a royal one in fact. There was no way he had no idea what he meant by his actions. Your heart shattered as your friends got mad at both of them.

"Why that sly fox! How could she betray your kindness like this?!"

"(y/n)! If you need to I can kill him myself!"

"No!" you had quietly yelled out.

You friends looked at you, worried on their faces. "(b/s/f #1), (b/s/f #2), I need to...go..."

You ran away towards the royal garden, letting your tears to flow down.

Once you got home, you destroyed the books, the gifts he gave you and finally sat down on the floor and cried you heart out.

Your heart had shattered that day, nothing felt like it was going to fix it. It felt like the end of the world.

The next day came, and you holed yourself up in your room.

Your bedroom door would not open. Nothing will work. Your father was worried, your friends, pestered at you, and the servants knock and check up on you as well. But even though you knew all these people cared, you truly only wanted one person to come and see you, Alaric.

You don't know if you were a masochist or not, but you did want answers.

Soon, one of the maids came in. "Leave me alone..." you mumbled in your pillow.

"No. Duke Caius is here to visit you. So I must get you ready, young lady."

You looked up at the maid as she chuckled. "What's so funny?" you asked almost like a pouting child.

"Your eyes are puffy my lady. If you do not want the Duke to notice it, I suggest you get ready, now."

You pouted as you got up.

The next thing you knew, you had seen Alaric. His perfectly combed over hair, his eyes, calm, and the placement of his lapels, in order as followed. You had bowed your head down slightly, as he sat down at the table.

You didn't even bother looking at him. If you did, you didn't think you could bear it. It was an embarrassing night for you. All you did was look at your tea, slowly stirring the sugar cube, looking at it and spacing out in the process.

"(y/n)?"

You looked up. This was the first time he had ever called out your name. He had always referred to you as Lady (l/n), out of formality, but he has never called out your name like you do his.

"Did you hear what I said?"

You took a moment and shook your head. "No, I'm sorry..."

"That's okay, I can say it again."

Why did your heart tug at this? You felt yourself being anxious for what he wanted to say. But first you wanted the answer to why he brought Alina to the royal ball the other night.

"I had brought out Lady Thompson to the ball a few nights ago, because of her father. He had wanted to make sure his daughter secured an escort for her first royal ball. He had insisted I had better escort her, otherwise she wouldn't come."

An excuse.

"I helped her father find the rare ore that had made him Baron. I must help him again."

Lies.

"So that's your excuse..." you mumbled out of your mouth.

He looked at you, his eyes were still. He had no emotion after what you had just said. "(y/n), it's the truth."

"Lies. We are engaged, but my debutant ball and first royal ball, you didn't escort me at all."

You remember it well. He had said he was busy, and you thought nothing of it, because he wouldn't escort or dance with anyone else anyways.

"When we had our first dance, you didn't even look at me."

It broke your heart that night when you both finally had that first dance you had been waiting for, only to be sad when he didn't smile, look or seemed to be enjoying it in any way.

"I had wanted us to get matching outfits, but you held it off saying, 'you hadn't gotten measured yet'."

He would get measured for an outfit for another woman, but not you? His own fiancé?

You felt nothing but anger now towards him. "Was it a waste of my time to devote it all towards you? I know your favorite snacks, colors, meal, drink, what to do as duchess..."

You felt like you were about to cry again, but tried to hold it in. "WAS IT ALL FOR NOTHING?!" your hands slammed the table as you felt your tears coming down your face as you looked at him.

Hoping he would say it wasn't in vain. That all of these things you did for him, would mean something.

"I had never asked you to do these things, (y/n). I am tired of your antics."

You couldn't believe you had ever loved this man.

You immediately went back inside, and into your room to cry once more.

Alaric has never needed anyone close to him.

He never understood you and your stupid antics to get closer towards him. From bringing snacks, to gifting the books he so wanted, to talking to him way to often.

He had an alright childhood. His father was sick and his mother was dead from childbirth, so he needed to become duke heir at a young age. Relying on himself to make the right or wrong decisions while his father's health deteriorated overtime.

His father wanted him to get married to his close friend, Marquis (l/n), so he arranged the engagement before his death, and after his death when he was 15, he kept it on because it was one of his father's final wishes. To see their families united.

But sometimes he couldn't stand (y/n). When he first met her, he had no opinions of her, other than the fact that she was nothing more than a clumsy girl trying to get his attention.

She was trying to live out fairytale romances through him. She had wanted him to be her knight in shining armor. And he didn't care for it.

He ignored her until she kept on pestering him.

Soon, they did their small talks.

He ignored the food she had gave him.

Until he ate it because he was hungry and it was his favorites.

He ignored her all throughout his childhood, because he never needed her as much as he did. He saw her as pathetic, but he couldn't help but fuel her pathetic attempts to get him to love her.

He did didn't need her. He didn't need her at all.

Plus, she was well liked. Both women and men liked her. But sometimes those men that liked her too much got on his nerves to the point of threatening them into silence. She didn't need him, she wanted him. And he didn't need her as well.

But he thought he felt something when he met Alina for the first time. But later, he realized it was nothing more than curiosity. But whenever he was around (y/n), there was always a feeling that he didn't know what it was, but always put it off, until it came creeping onto him whenever he was with Alina.

It was clear she was jealous of (y/n) and her life, so she had tried to mimic her. Her cheery attitude, beautiful smile, and her happy-go-lucky demeanor, even though he could tell that she was nothing more than hollow shell of an impression. She did all these things so that he could pay attention to her. But Alina was worse than (y/n).

Her personality and character are terrible.

She always seemed to get into fights with the other women. Whether petty drama or something a tad bit more serious. She had always seem to never get along with them. Unlike (y/n).

She was terrible at any financial things. Counting money properly, distributing money equally, and figuring out the budget. Unlike (y/n)

She had always seemed to look at others as if she was better than them. Often subtly bragging a new pendant, earrings, bracelet, shoes, dress, or hair accessories. Unlike (y/n)

Her tea was awful to drink. She always stepped on someone's toes for no good reason. Her embroidery was lackluster. Her paintings, a clear imitation. Unlike (y/n).

He remembered a time where (y/n)'s tea was bitter, when she stepped on someone's feet while dancing, when her paintings were dull, and when she had a hard time managing money. It was absolutely a clumsy and nerve-racking time. But slowly, it had shown improvement, unlike Alina's tea.

All of these hobbies that Alina had picked up and all of her personal quirks have cause him to realize one thing.

He would never look her way.

He picked Alina because he thought he could finally drive (y/n) away from her antics and say he is not interested in her at all.

When he went to the royal ball and was dancing with Alina, all he could ever think of was how (y/n) would react in the same situation. Her bright smile, cheerful eyes and glowing aura would all be very lovely. He couldn't help but unconsciously smile during the dance, and it seemed to have fueled Alina's determination to take her down.

But now he wonders why he had those thoughts during the dance with Alina.

She had holed up in her manor ever since that royal ball.

Alaric didn't see her. No letter, no snacks, no anything. Nothing had came. He should be elated. Happy. Excited. Joyful.

But all he felt was a big hole. A big empty hole somewhere in his body.

He had thought he had heard her all over the place. "Alaric. You need to stop overworking yourself to death! You might get sick!"

"It's none of your concerns, Lady (l/n)."

"Huh?"

He looked up from his paperwork, only to see his secretary looking at him, confused? "What did you say, Your Grace?"'

He looked down at his paperwork. "Nothing of note."

It happened again when he was reading through the manor's ledgers. "Can I help you with that Alaric? I'm very good with ledgers!"

"It is fine Lady (l/n)."

"Your Grace?"

Once again, he looked up only to see his butler, looking at him confused.

He felt like he was going insane.

He had developed a high fever one day from overworking. His butler called in the family's doctor, and the doctor said to take a break today.

But his fever kept on running, and the maids didn't know what to do. They gave him water that was too hot, his body kept on sweating, and they gave him food too salty for his condition. They were all incompetent when he was sick all of the sudden. And to top it off, his secretary still needed him to do paperwork for the estate.

During his time with his fever, he unconsciously only thought to see one person. (y/n).

He had wanted her to be by his side when he was sick. To take care of him and to see him recover. He wanted her to scold at him for overworking. He wanted to see her happy after he did recover from this fever. He had wanted to see her, no, he felt like he needed to see her.

He slowly opened his eyes as he was asleep for a bit. He thought he saw her in his groggy state. "...(y/n)..?"

Only to finally see clearly. It was Alina. And she looked pissed, but he was even more pissed. "How dare you! How dare you call out the name of that woman when I'm here?!"

He got up and yelled. "GUARDS!"

She got mad. "Oh, now you're calling the guards?! I came here to help you! And this is what I get?!"

He looked at her with contempt. "How did you know I was sick?"

She looked anxious. "The butler told me! He contacted me with a letter! Look!"

She pulled out a messily handwritten letter as people came up towards his room. His secretary and butler came to his side. "Who is this?" his secretary asked.

Alaric's head was banging, but managed to respond. "Lady Thompson. I do not know how she got here."

Alina looked scarred as the secretary called a maid to call the guards. "How did you get in here Lady Thompson?"

"I got here because the butler told me to come here because His Grace is sick!"

The butler looked confused. "I do not recall writing a letter to anyone."

Alina got mad. "Yes you did! I have the evidence!"

She held her letter as the secretary grabbed it out of her hands. "Butler, is this your handwriting?"

The butler fixed his glasses and shook his head. "I do not write this sloppily, even when writing fast."

Alina got even more mad as the guard got up the stairs. "Your Grace?"

"Take her away, and make sure she never sets foot in the estate again."

"Wha..? HEY!" The guards took Alina while she protested. All the servants went back to work as his secretary looked at him. "I will investigate where that letter came from, Your Grace."

Alaric looked at the ceiling as he started to lay down in his bed. "There is no need. But do investigate how she got in here and how she knew. We might have a stalker on our hands if I'm not careful..."

His secretary nodded. "Yes Your Grace, I hope you recover quickly, soon."

All he could do is stare up to the ceiling. Thinking. If (y/n) had done this, maybe he wouldn't had been as mad as he was back there. Maybe he would had enjoyed her trying to fumble out a response of how she knew he was sick. Maybe he would had enjoyed her antics of trying to cure him of his fever.

He couldn't help but chuckle as he slowly fell back asleep, dreaming.

When he had gotten better after 3 days, he immediately went to the (l/n) estate. He didn't know why, but he needed to go there after his fever.

He was led to the garden as he waited for her to get ready. Then he looked around. The garden was filled with flowers. Pink, white, purple, and blue flowers seemed to be her favorite. The servants brought out her favorite tea set. A pink and white ceramic one. He has only seen it every time she had hosted her friends. She only brought out the other tea sets with him.

She looked different. She looked less lively. Her skin looked pale, her eyes a bit puffy and her hands fiddling with the tea cup, nervously.

He had only brought up his purpose at being in at the royal ball with Alina, when she started talking about his shortcomings in their relationship.

How he didn't accompany her to her first ball, didn't look at her for their first dance, and how he always gave an excuse for not wearing matching outfits.

But something came out of his mouth when talking to her. "I had never asked you to do these things, (y/n). I am tired of your antics."

He felt annoyed at her behavior. She got too clingy and annoying now. Bringing up insignificant things. She got annoying in this very moment.

She soon ran away as he left the (l/n) estate.

He wanted to go home and rid his memories of her immature behavior. Hoping that her behavior won't continue again.

A/N: I should do a part 2. But you'll have to wait a while.

#yandere x reader #yandere childhood friend #yandere oc x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere male #yandere #yandere duke #yandere duke x reader #x f reader

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 16 days

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i saw your prompt list and was hoping for number 6 with Aegon <3

‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’

Request: Aegon married Rhaenyra's daughter. When the king dies, Alicent lock her in the dungeons so she won't go to her mother and ruin the coronation. Aegon ask where his wife is and get you out himself. Tells the guard that his wife is not to be made prisoner

—

You always knew Alicent had madness running through her blood, but you never thought she would have you taken to the dungeons and imprisoned.

After dressing in your day dress, you were walking down the corridors, looking for Halaena when you heard voices coming from the small council chamber talking about sending men to Dragonstone to kill your mother and Daemon. Before you could get to your bed chamber and write her a message to send by crow, one of the guards saw you and brought you to the dungeons.

You tried to scream for help, but the sounds were killed by the stone walls. So you sank to the floor and curled on yourself, praying to the gods that someone would come get you out. Someone must have noticed your absence.

At his return from the dragonpit, Aegon walked into your chambers and called to you. He assumed you were with his sister, so he went to Halaena’s chambers, but she told him she had not seen you. On his way back from his sister’s chambers, Aegon heard the servants whispering about ‘the blacks’ daughter’ and stopped them.

With fury in his eyes, the prince stormed down to the dungeons. He didn’t have his sword on him — only Aemond wore it on the daily —, but he had his dagger. Whoever would try to oppose freeing you will end their day bleeding out. Aegon was not afraid of a fight.

His footsteps echoed off the stone walls and the torches flickered as he passed. As he reached the entrance to the dungeons, Aegon clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw tight with determination. Without surprise, two guards were stationed at the entrance. They moved to block the way when the prince approached.

‘’We cannot let you go past, my prince. Orders of the Queen,’’ one of them said.

‘’The King’s dead, which no longer makes her Queen. And as the rightful heir to the throne, it is my command you obey.’’ Aegon tried to go past them, but the other guard pulled out his sword. ‘’I could have you removed from the kingsguard for pointing your sword at your future King.’’ His jaw clenched, his grip tightening on the hilt of his dagger as he stared the defiant guards.

The threat hung heavy in the air, a silent warning of the consequences should they continue to defy him. After a tense moment, the guard who had brandished his sword reluctantly stepped aside.

‘’My wife is not to be made a prisoner,’’ Aegon declared, his voice ringing with authority, holding his dagger at the guard’s throat.

The guard gulped. ‘’Yes, my Prince.’’

Aegon walked past them, wondering how his own mother could do this. A part of him was not surprised, though. Her determination often goes too far.

Finally, he reached the row of cells. All were empty, except one. His heart was pounding in his chest as he saw you sitting with your knees pulled to your chest on the cold stone floor. He said your name and you looked up, tears welling up in your eyes as you stood and reached out to him. You knew he would come for you.

‘’Aegon!’’ Your voice held relief.

He grabbed your hand through the bars, cold from being down here, holding it. ‘’Don’t cry. I hate it when you cry.’’ Aegon reached out to caress your tear-streaked face, his touch a tender reassurance in the midst of chaos.

Using the keys he stole from the guards, Aegon unlocked the door, a harsh creaking sound echoing in the silence of the dungeon when it opened. Without hesitation, he pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if afraid to let you go.

‘’Are you alright?’’ he asked, stepping back to look at you.

You nodded. You were cold, and very thirsty, but not hurt. ‘’I heard your mother and her father speaking to the Lord Commander. They sent men to murder my mother,’’ you said, a tear slipping down your face. ‘’I was sent here so I wouldn’t write to her and risk ruining your coronation. I need to get to the dragonpit. I have to go to Dragonstone and save my mother.’’

—

House of the dragon taglist: @khaleesihavilliard @domoron @ididliquorice @lover-of-helios @lover-of-helios @shine101 @tanyaherondale @mikariell95 @serrendiipty @lantsovheiress @gilliananderfuckme @shine101 @tetgod @clayzayden@memeorydotcom @tnu-ree @futuregws @blackravena @winxschester @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos @xxlaynaxx @secretsthathauntus @pilarxxxaguayo @emmavan39 @stargaryenx @erylilly @bbblackmamba @rainedrop97 @dreamer087 @gothicgay14 @ashlatano7567 @superkittywonderland @justaproudslytherpuff @evesolstice @buckysmainhxe @padfootsvixen @scarletmeii @evesolstice @dkathl @kaywsworld @tetgod @padfootsvixen @domoron @weird-addiction @angeliod @xjennyx2 @adaydreamaway08 @mymultiveres @secretsthathauntus @puffycreamcakes@thirsty4nonlivingmen@naty-1001@katiepie67@moshpot24x@hc-geralt-23@lovelynerdytraveler@saturn-sas @zgzgh @sssjuico10@tabloidteen@timetoten@deekaag@wondxrgurl@aerangi@strmborns@astridyoo15@daemonslittlebitch@queenbeestuffs@severewobblerlightdragon@agentstarkid@msliz@vane1999-blog@fairyfolkloresposts@todaywasafairytale07@otomaniac@zgzgzh@thebeardedmoon@golden-library@kikyrizuki@hnslchw@camy85@winxschester @armstrongscommentsection

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen imagine #hotd aegon #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #idk if i like this one

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mayullla · 2 months

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Title: Creature's Infatuation

Character(s): Doppelganger (Unnamed character/original work) Summary: The servants didn't know that their abusive noble was switched for a monster that looked like him. You forced to marry him knew tho, that he created everything to have you in his arms. Tags/Warnings: Yandere!monster, fem!reader, yandere!monster x noble!reader, general yandere themes, manipulation, brainwashing, blackmail, forced feminization, noncon pet play, forced intimacy, imprisonment, tentacles, 1.2k words

Author's Note: This is an old one-shot of mine that I didn't post for a long time inspired the yandere viscount so it is similar to it.

You didn't know how dangerous monsters could be… that some could turn into humans and blend into the crowd and you would be none the wiser.

If you were wiser… if you knew what would happen to you… you would hesitate even just a little, even just a second to help anyone who you saw in need. Maybe then you would not be locked up in this horrible mansion after selling yourself to pay off your noble aristocratic family debt.

You were nothing but a slave to him, with his affection and sick love, he kept you by his side. Nobody could know what happened here when everything was covered by thick curtains and dimmed lights. The servants here were nothing more than puppets. Their minds, which this monster had eaten just a little bit, placed itself, done just to get ever so closer to you and keep you locked here. He manipulated their thoughts while letting them think that they were still human.

You glared at the mansion, you glared at him who had caused you this suffering. Yet for the sake of something precious, you would give up that aristocratic pride, swallowing it down as you begged him to spare your family from their downfall. You said that you would give him anything he wants.

And all he wanted was you.

He told you that he would give you everything when he only did the opposite. What he said was nothing more than food that was taken away from you the moment you rebelled over the fantasies he had in his head.

He made you wear many costumes, dresses, and outfits, each and every one an arrow to your pride as he held your waist from the back dreamily looking at the mirror of you and him, telling you his disgusting and vile thoughts he was imagining when he first saw those clothes, how he imagined them on you.

The dresses that you usually wore were taken away the first day you signed the contract that you would be forever his. "Boring and lackluster," he told you. He would dress you with finer fabrics and silks that would make him excited to see, unlike the “dull and humble” dresses that you wore. It was unbefitting for you, he told you the first day, but you did see them later locked in a chest. Why he kept them, you didn't even want to know, not after you realized how perverted he was.

Gems and pearls of all kinds of accessories were also sewn into your new clothes. You were sure they would make a duchess or even a princess green with envy. He had gotten you almost all the latest trends that he fancied, which was almost all except the ones where much was covered.

Maid clothes that were more flamboyant, more revealing with a shorter shirt too short to even be appropriate. He had a particular fondness for lacy details, the more delicate the better.

Sometimes he would make you wear dog ears or cat ears, making you wear a collar as he cooed condescendingly, stroking your hair as he ordered you to get down and put your chin on his knee or forced you to sit on his lap.

Sometimes having you wear costumed shoes with heels too high to walk on. Barely able to walk on them, he would carry you, dreaming of how this was how a prince would carry his pretty princess. You wanted nothing more than to rip them off your feet, but with thick buckles and locks, it was practically impossible to take them off unless you chopped your feet.

To him, you became his pet, maid, princess, and whatever else perverted thing he managed to think up. Everything that happened in the mansion would never go out. The maids and servants didn't seem to care much about you, nor did they ever realize that the noble they served and some adored was a monster.

That the person they once thought to be him was long gone, rotting in some ditch as the monster took on his role just to make a situation that fits.

All they cared about was that their master had changed for the better, so in love with his wife that he shopped for all the violent acts he had done in the past. Not understanding that this was all wrong. Not knowing that he had control over their minds, that in reality, they were nothing more than lifeless husks made to believe that they were alive and that whatever he was doing to you was nothing more than normal.

From how he would lock you in a room as punishment, or how he would force you to feed him on his lap with overly revealing attire unfit for a noblewoman as he continued to be so fond of you.

Some days he would ask you if you loved him, loved him as much as he does to the point of obsession. The hurt in his eyes as he held you tighter asking what you wanted that would make you happy, "Why don't you love me as much as I do?" He would ask, as you watched tentacles move around the desk writing papers that were related to work. Tentacles that were connected to his back.

He pulled you closer to him, arms holding your waist tight, already forced to sit on his lap against your chest to touch his, which forced you to look up at him, unable to look anywhere else. Even if you were able to, it would be a bad decision to do so when he got angry.

Just as much as he loved dressing you up, you also have watched him morph many times, into something or someone else to make whatever fantasy even more real. The doors locked so that no one could come in, the windows shut so that no one could see through, and the lights but only from the flickering candle. "Do you want me to look like your lover? Would you love me more if I looked like him?" He asked, pulling your thigh closer to him, as you watched him morph, becoming nothing more than black goop to the man who you once loved.

The soft smile on his lips and the brightness of his eyes made you think that he finally loved you. It fluttered your heart but also sent shivers down your spine, as you knew that this wasn't your crush.

He was desperate for your love, yet at the same time, he was sadistic, forcing you to love him. There were days when he threatened you to stay by his side, unless you wanted to go out of the room or mansion naked, or face something worse. Your only choice was to stay there or hold his arm like a love-sick wife who loved him just as much as he loved her.

You felt gross, so vile, by this monster parading as a human and also forcing you to love him. But he didn't care, as long as he could see that you loved him and were by his side, playing by whatever whims he had in the bedroom or office. You were the person he had fallen in love with when he sneaked into the town of humans. You were kinder than anyone he had met. He had fallen in love with you that day and would do anything to keep you with him. He would even kill and take over the body of a noble just to get closer to you.

So long as you belonged to him.

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zapreportsblog · 7 months

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❝army of ivarrsons❞

✭ pairing : ivar the boneless x reader

✭ fandom : vikings

✭ summary : ivar has always thought of himself to be a failure of a man, his legs did not work like an normal man, his prick did not work. The only thing he was good for was being a prince and a warrior though he wasn’t all that good at being even those in his eyes, but then along came a woman. One so pure, so beautiful she looked to be a goddess amongst men. And with those sweet words she spoke “I will bare you many sons ivar the boneless.”

✭ authors note : I have requests closed as y’all seen but it’s only temporarily, haven’t really been up to writing and seeing as how I had many ideas in mind for stories I thought fuck it let’s try again

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the great hall of Ivar's family estate, illuminating the long wooden table laden with bread, cheese, and freshly caught fish. Ivar sat at the head of the table, his older brother Sigurd to his right. As usual, Sigurd couldn't resist testing his patience.

"Good morrow, brother," Sigurd teased, a wicked glint in his eye. "Have you finally learned how to eat without spilling half your breakfast on your tunic?"

Ivar clenched his jaw, determined to keep his composure. Their sibling rivalry had existed for as long as he could remember, and it showed no signs of waning. He forced a strained smile. "I'm making progress, Sigurd, unlike some."

Before the exchange could escalate further, the heavy wooden doors of the great hall swung open with a thunderous crash. A thrall, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, stumbled into the room. The hushed conversations ceased, and all eyes turned to the intruder.

Ivar rose from his seat, ready to reprimand the thrall for her lack of decorum, but before he could utter a word, she dropped to her knees, her head bowed low.

"Forgive me, my lords," the thrall panted, her voice trembling. "I bring urgent news."

Ivar exchanged puzzled glances with Sigurd. Urgent news was a rarity in their peaceful corner of the world. He gestured for the thrall to continue.

She raised her head, revealing wide, terrified eyes. "Freya herself has come and blessed us. She walks among us."

The words hung in the air like a spell, and a collective gasp swept through the hall. Ivar's skepticism wrestled with the growing sense of anticipation. Gods did not simply descend from the heavens to walk among mortals.

Before he could question the thrall further, the great hall erupted into chaos. The guests and servants rushed toward the entrance, shoving past each other in their eagerness to catch a glimpse of the so-called Freya. Ivar, however, moved reluctantly through the crowd, his curiosity piqued despite his reservations.

And there she stood, in the center of the throng, an ethereal vision that defied belief. Freya, if that truly was her name, had luscious hair that billowed in the wind, eyes that seemed to hold both otherworldly wisdom and untold mysteries. Her face was mature but agelessly youthful, her features mirroring the very essence of a Viking legend. It was as if the stories of the gods themselves had come to life.

The hall was filled with awe-struck whispers as people fell to their knees, proclaiming that the gods had indeed come to pay them a visit.

Amidst the reverence, Freya's gaze found Ivar's, and she offered him a serene smile. A shiver ran down his spine as their eyes locked. Something unspoken passed between them.

"We have much to talk about," she said, her voice carrying a mysterious weight that left Ivar both uneasy and captivated.

As the crowd continued to kneel and worship the divine presence before them, Ivar couldn't help but wonder what secrets this so-called Freya held and how her arrival would reshape their world.

Ivar stood alongside his older brothers, Sigurd, Hvitserk, and Ubba, each of them caught between awe and skepticism as they gazed upon the enigmatic woman who claimed to be Freya. The hall had fallen into reverent silence, save for the murmurs of those who dared to question her divine presence.

"Are you truly the goddess Freya?" Sigurd finally ventured to ask, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.

Freya, or the woman who bore her name, smiled, but her response held an air of mystery. "My face holds many names, Freya may just be one of them."

The brothers exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of her cryptic words. It was Ubba who stepped forward, his towering frame casting a shadow over the ethereal figure before them. "Why have you come to bless us, then?" he inquired, his tone respectful but inquisitive. "If I may ask without sounding rude."

The woman, who had introduced herself as (Y/N), let out a melodic laugh that echoed through the hall. "Rude? Not at all, dear Ubba. You see, I am here for Ivar."

Ivar's heart skipped a beat as all eyes turned toward him. He had been prepared for many things this day, but not for such a direct and unsettling revelation. He struggled to find his voice. "For me?"

(Y/N) nodded, her enigmatic smile never faltering. "Yes, for you, Ivar. If you were to accept me into your home, I would bear you many healthy children."

The words hung in the air, pregnant with meaning and implications that Ivar could hardly fathom. The weight of her gaze bore down on him, as if she could see into the depths of his soul. It was a proposition unlike any other, one that would reshape not only his destiny but that of his family and people as well.

Sigurd couldn't suppress the unease that gnawed at his heart. He looked from his brothers to (Y/N), his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Why him, and not one of us?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness.

(Y/N) met Sigurd's gaze with an unwavering serenity. "You are all favored by the gods," she began, her voice carrying an air of wisdom. "But Ivar, he is favored above all. The accomplishments you will face, the children you will bear into this world—they will be great, but not as great as his."

The revelation left Sigurd and his brothers exchanging troubled glances. It was a difficult truth to accept, that their destinies were preordained and that Ivar's path would surpass theirs. But even in the midst of their uncertainty, (Y/N) offered a glimpse of hope.

Ubba, ever the one to voice the unasked questions, spoke next. "If you are truly Freya," he began cautiously, "then how come you are here with us and not your husband, the Allfather? I do not wish to be rude, but you are married to Odin, are you not? Yet you speak of carrying my brothers' children."

(Y/N) smiled, her eyes holding a mixture of fondness and sadness. "Odin and I have long since split," she explained. "But for the sake of the other gods, we remain faithful to one another—just not in the way one would think."

The brothers exchanged another set of glances, their minds trying to grasp the complexities of divine relationships and the implications of (Y/N)'s presence in their lives.

Amidst the questions and uncertainties, Ivar felt a wave of insecurity washing over him. He couldn't help but voice his doubt, his voice laden with self-deprecation. "You should choose one of my brothers or someone else," he said, his tone laced with a mix of humility and resignation. "They are able men and can do all the things a woman would need in a man. You don't deserve a cripple like me."

(Y/N) turned his head gently, making him meet her gaze once more. Her smile remained, unwavering. "But yet I chose you."

The words held a weight that Ivar struggled to comprehend. In that moment, he couldn't help but wonder if he truly understood the depths of the path that lay ahead, one where gods and mortals intertwined in ways he had never imagined.

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, Ivar found himself giving in to the uncharted territory that (Y/N) had brought into his life. The same night they met, they wed an impromptu ceremony all of Kattegat’s members and held a extravagant feast of celebration.

Now, in the dimly lit chamber, amidst the cheers and laughter, the newlyweds were about to partake in the bedding ceremony. Ivar couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as he apologized, his voice tremulous. "I'm not very good at this," he admitted, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment.

(Y/N) leaned in close, her eyes holding a comforting reassurance. "You'll do just fine," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. "I've seen how your first time went, my dearest ivar. It is normal to be nervous, especially when it's not the one you truly want."

Ivar felt a surge of relief wash over him. Her understanding words eased his doubts, and he let himself surrender to the passion that simmered between them.

Throughout the night, their love-making was fervent, passionate, and filled with a longing that transcended mere physical desire. The hours blurred together, and the dawn found them entwined, their bodies and souls intimately connected.

The next morning, Ivar awoke with a grin that was unusually happy for the stoic prince. Ubba, his older brother, noticed the change in his demeanor and couldn't help but inquire, "Did something happen to Sigurd, brother?" He assumed that Ivar might have witnessed their brother's misfortune or a rejection.

Ivar chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing of that sort, brother."

Not long after both brothers had been joined by Floki - a member close to their family especially their father and seen as another father figure to ivar, for breakfast, the trio exchanged casual conversation, and Ivar's newfound happiness was hard to conceal. In the midst of a seemingly mundane conversation about the weather, Ivar couldn't contain himself any longer.

"I must share some news," he declared, his voice ringing with confidence. "Last night, I performed well in bed. Every round, to the very end."

Ubba, caught off guard, nearly choked on his mead. Floki raised an eyebrow, intrigued but nevertheless proud by the sudden announcement. "Is that so, Ivar?"

While Ubba struggled to contain his astonishment, he managed to offer a hearty congratulations to his brother, even if a tinge of bitterness lingered. The doubts that had plagued Ivar, the assumptions made by his brothers, had all been dispelled in the passionate hours he had shared with (Y/N).

It had been just a week since Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, but the news that swept through the village was enough to send everyone into celebration. (Y/N), still affectionately referred to as Freya by the villagers, was pregnant with the heir of Ivar, the prince of Kattegat.

Upon hearing the news, Ivar wasted no time in throwing a grand feast to celebrate this momentous occasion. The great hall was adorned with banners and torches, and the long tables were laden with the finest foods and meads. It was a joyous occasion, and the entire village turned out to celebrate the impending arrival of their future leader.

Throughout the festivities, Ivar's attentiveness to his wife was unmistakable. He was by (Y/N)'s side at every turn, anticipating her needs before she even voiced them. If she desired a drink, he would fetch it for her or have a thrall pour it with haste. When she wanted more meat, he ensured her plate was overflowing with it. And when she complained of stiffness in her shoulders and back from the long hours of celebration, he was there to ease the tension, his strong hands working wonders on her weary muscles.

Everyone could see the happiness that (Y/N) brought into Ivar's life, and it was evident in every glance, every gesture, and every tender touch between them. Despite the brevity of their marriage, their connection was undeniable, and it had only grown stronger with the promise of a child.

As the night wore on, and the revelry continued, Ivar found himself in a state of contentment he had never known before. With (Y/N) by his side and the prospect of fatherhood on the horizon, he couldn't help but look to the future with hope and excitement. The people of Kattegat watched their prince with admiration, knowing that he was not only a formidable leader but also a devoted husband, eagerly anticipating the arrival of his heir.

The months had went by swiftly and soon the long-awaited day had arrived. The air in the room was filled with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety as (Y/N) prepared to give birth to Ivar's heir. The labor had been long and exhausting, pushing (Y/N) to her limits, but she persevered with unwavering strength and determination. Ivar stood by her side, providing constant support and encouragement, never leaving her sight.

As the hours turned into eternity, the cries of pain echoed through the room. The midwife worked diligently, guiding (Y/N) through each contraction, offering words of comfort and reassurance. By her side, Ivar held her hand tightly, his eyes never leaving her face. He could see the strain etched upon her features but admired her resilience in the face of such intense pain.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the moment arrived. The cries of a newborn filled the room, and tears of relief streamed down (Y/N)'s face. Ivar's heart swelled with joy as he looked upon the tiny face of his firstborn son. The room seemed to glow with an ethereal light, as if the gods themselves had blessed this moment.

"I am truly blessed by the gods," Ivar whispered, his voice filled with awe. "For I have a wife, the fairest of them all - the goddess Freya herself - in my arms, with my firstborn son, an heir. I never thought I would find such happiness, but I am grateful that I have."

(Y/N) smiled weakly, her eyes shining with love and exhaustion. She reached out a trembling hand to touch Ivar's cheek, her touch filled with tenderness and gratitude. "And I am blessed to have you, my dearest Ivar," she whispered. "You have given me strength and love beyond measure."

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, overshadowed by the miracle of new life. Ivar and (Y/N) found solace in each other's arms, cherishing the precious gift they had been given.

The midwife gently placed the newborn in (Y/N)'s arms, and Ivar marveled at the sight. His heir, his legacy, lay peacefully in his mother's embrace. There was a newfound sense of purpose and responsibility that settled upon Ivar's broad shoulders.

As he looked upon his wife and son, Ivar knew that he would protect and cherish them with all his might. He, a warrior feared by many, had found his greatest joy in the form of his family. With a heart filled with love and gratitude, Ivar vowed to be the father his son deserved, and not the man his own father had been.

Six years had passed since the day Ivar and (Y/N) had wed, and in that time, Ivar had become a force to be reckoned with. At the age of twenty-four, he had accomplished more than he had ever dreamed of. He had conquered lands, brought riches to Kattegat, and solidified his reputation as a formidable leader.

But it wasn't just his conquests that defined his success; it was the growing family he had built with (Y/N) by his side. Their firstborn, Arvid, had been a source of immense pride for Ivar, carrying the weight of being the heir to the throne. Following Arvid, twin boys named Audun and Axel had joined their family.

Their blessings continued with the birth of a daughter, Astride, who brought a new kind of joy into their lives. And after Astride, more sons had followed: Ase, Bodil, Dane, Ebbe, Eir, and Inge, each one a testament to the love and connection between Ivar and (Y/N).

Now, with the passage of time, the couple found themselves on the brink of another exciting chapter in their lives. (Y/N) was expecting once more, and this time, they had received the news that they were to welcome another set of twins into their growing family.

The prospect of more children filled Ivar with a deep sense of pride and fulfillment. He had not only achieved great success in his endeavors but had also created a legacy that would continue to shape the future of Kattegat for generations to come. With (Y/N) by his side, he looked forward to the challenges and joys that lay ahead, knowing that their love and the family they had built together were the greatest treasures of all.

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vsnyarbll · 1 year

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A Targaryen prince is a heavy burden

atpiahb masterlist, part1, part2, part3, part4, part5

main masterlist

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader, platonic!Aegon II Targaryen x reader

words: 1.287

summary: Aemond is cheating on his wife with Alys Rivers. y/n finds out.

warnings: angst, mentions of cheating, mentions of death, mentions of non-consensual sex

a/n: English is not my native language

y/n was sitting on the window bench. Her eyes were puffy and red from days of crying.

She lifted her wine glass to her lips, but it was empty. She reached for the decanter beside her to fill it and knocked it over. The wine spilled on the cushions of the bench and the hem of her dress.

Her hand holding the glass trembled, and she put it on the marble in front of the window.

y/n clenched her trembling hands and tried to calm herself, but her eyes filled, and her vision blurred. She put her hand over her mouth and tried to stifle her sobs.

Aegon got up from his chair. He came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder.

"It will be all right."

"No, Aegon, it won't. He doesn't want me," she said between sobs.

Aegon sat next to her, ignoring the wine on the cushions.

"He had been going to her since the first day of our marriage. He always told me he had a mission that could take weeks.”

Aegon did not comment and averted his eyes.

"How could I have been so stupid," she said.

Two weeks ago, she found out that Aemond had cheated on her. They had been married for two years, and almost every month, he would get on his dragon and be gone for a week or two.

y/n kept reminding herself that he was a prince and had duties. But Aemond was cheating on her with a woman named Alys Rivers, and his affair with her even predated their marriage.

"He married me so he could inherit my father's lands."

Aegon reached out and patted her arm.

Like many in the castle, he had known this for a long time.

The Queen, the King, the lords, and their wives, everyone knew. That was why they had looked at her with pitying eyes at her wedding and when she first moved into the palace.

Even the servants in the castle felt sorry for her.

It was common for high-ranking married men to have affairs with other women. But it was not considered appropriate for them to have a lover.

"I thought he loved me," she said, turning to Aegon.

xxx

In the evening of that day, the wet nurse came to her room, holding Aemond's and y/n's son, born a week earlier.

Aemond was not with her at the birth of their son. He wasn't even in the castle.

Aegon had waited outside the room during the birth.

The queen had come to her room after the birth to hold her grandson.

y/n’s parents lived three weeks away and were unable to come when she went into labor.

She had to deal alone with the thing she feared most in life.

She was all alone.

After giving birth, one of her trusted ladies-in-waiting told her about Aemond's mistress.

y/n took her son in her arms from the wet nurse. And she buried her nose in his head.

He was the son of the man she loved.

Her eyes were full as she rocked him back and forth in her arms.

She could not go back to her family. Her parents, as much as they loved her, could not accept such a thing. She was married and her new home was The Red Keep, next to her husband.

The door to their room opened, and her husband came in.

His hair was disheveled because he had come to the castle with his dragon. Aemond looked at his wife as he closed the door.

When he saw the baby in her arms, his throat tightened. "I didn't know. I found out the moment I arrived at the castle."

He walked toward his wife and reached for the baby in her arms, but y/n pressed him against her chest.

Aemond paused and dropped his hands to his sides. "My mother said you gave birth to a boy."

"Yes, I did."

He nodded.

"All alone," she said.

"I would have come earlier if my mission-

"Your mission?" she laughed nervously. "What was that mission, Aemond, to fuck that witch?"

He didn't answer, but the muscles in his jaw tightened.

"I could have died in childbirth." Then, she paused briefly. "Of course, you'd be happy if I died. Since I gave you a son, it doesn't matter if I live.”

"You've learned."

"Yes, Aemond! I've learned!"

Aemond continued to maintain silence. His silence infuriated her even more.

"You won't say anything? Won't you defend yourself? Don't I deserve even a simple apology?"

"There is nothing to defend," he said and approached her. "She's been in my life since I was 19."

y/n couldn't hold back her tears this time. She couldn't remember how many times she had cried that day.

"Can I hold my son?"

She looked at him incredulously. "If you want to hold him, and if you want to be in his life in the future, you will leave that woman."

Aemond took a deep breath. "I can't, y/n."

"Why? Why can't you?!"

"Because she's pregnant."

y/n didn't know how much more upset and angry she could feel. "So after years of bullying your nephews, you made your Strong bastard?"

At that moment, the baby stirred restlessly in her arms and slowly opened his eyes. y/n started rocking him back to sleep.

"Don't make me choose between you."

"Do you hear yourself?! I'm your wife. You already made that choice by marrying me.”

Her son wouldn't fall asleep and started to cry. The tension in the room had affected him too. Aemond reached for him once more. This time she let Aemond take him. She couldn't bear to hear her baby cry, even though she felt guilty for feeling that way.

He looked down at his son in his arms, smiling. He placed a kiss on his head. With his eyes still on him, he spoke. "Was Aegon not enough to fill my absence?"

y/n's eyes widened. "Do you realize what you are accusing me of? I am not you, Aemond."

"The courtiers are not blind, y/n. As I set foot in the castle, they told me how much Aegon enjoyed spending time in our chambers."

She backed away and sat on the bed.

y/n folded her hands in her lap and began to play with her fingers.

Aegon was another matter.

Nothing inappropriate had happened between them, but she felt safe and at peace around him.

She always felt his gaze on her in crowded places.

His facial expression when he looked at her would sometimes cause her face to warm up.

Aemond came to her and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "If he comes near you again, I will cut off his hands."

She looked up to lock eyes with Aemond. "You impregnate another woman and then turn around and question my honor." She laughed to herself. "That's so like you."

y/n wanted him to be angry too. She wanted him to hurt even a little, but there was not a trace of emotion on the one-eyed prince's face.

"I'm going to take our son to his wet nurse. It wouldn't be right for him to sleep here tonight. I miss my wife."

"Do you think I'd bed with you after all you've done?"

Aemond spoke as he walked towards the door. "You have to. It's your duty as my wife."

As he opened the door, he turned and spoke for the last time before leaving the room. "Besides, everyone will expect me to have another heir."

As y/n looked at where Aemond had just stood, she remembered what her mother had said on their wedding day.

‘A Targaryen prince is a heavy burden.’

next chapter

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond one eye #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #aemond x you #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader x aegon targaryen

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rie-092 · 1 year

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ATTENTION

「 platonic yandere! dorothea milanaire 」

there is only one thing that dorothea wants before. it was to experience the attention and love from his beloved father, the current emperor that time. but despite of doing everything for that, her father didn't paid any attention to her. instead, he only focused his attention to her older brother, raymond.

it hurt her. she was really jealous of raymond. the only thing that was inside her mind that time was 'if i surpass raymond, will father pay attention to me?' that was also the reason why she compete with her older brother everytime she was given a chance. she wants to show to everyone that she was good, she can do everything raymond can do. she was better than him!

but, you see. dorothea's obsession with parental love disappeared in an instant by the time she met their older sister when she was nine. princess (first name), the eldest princess and the one who was supposed to be the heir instead of raymond. the beautiful and sweet (first name) whom dorothea see as the angel that the heavens gave to her as a gift.

as a platonic yandere, dorothea wants you to pay attention to her. not to raymond, not to your father, not to your fiancé. you only need to pay attention to her. whenever she visits you, the two of you should have a tea together. if she failed a test, you should be there to comfort her. and once you act as a perfect older sister for her, dorothea won't ask for anything. she doesn't care about what the nobles and your father says about her anymore. she only wants you to see her as a perfect little sister and dorothea will do anything for that.

if she see you talking or playing with raymond, ah. this girl will grit her teeth in anger and jealousy. you were her older sister, not raymond's. raymond already has her father's attention, the position as the crown prince, the ability to control light spirit. he already had everything and he dared to steal you away from her too? how dare him.

maybe witnessing those times where you laugh with raymond, play with raymond and have a tea with raymond was one of the things that trigger dorothea to become a tyrant. this girl treasures her older sister so much to the point that she was willing to kill raymond just to make sure that you will pay attention to her and only her.

no. she won't do it right now. she doesn't want you to get angry at her if she kill raymond. but do you remember that time when you complimented raymond in front of dorothea? yes. that event was the one who triggered dorothea to kill raymond in front of you and become the emperor herself.

and when dorothea became the emperor, this girl won't allow anyone except her to approach you. this girl thinks that she was the only one who has the rights to talk to you since she was your sister. do you remember those servants who tried to help you to escape from her? they died on ethan, her closest aide's hand. how about your dear fiancé and her family? she killed them all! but you don't have to worry. since before killing them, dorothea made sure to torture them first for spending so much time with you.

seeing you like a broken doll is something that dorothea loves to see. unlike those times after he killed raymond, you were now allowing her to style your hair, and wear a matching dress with her! you even accepts all the gifts that she was giving to you! does it mean that you finally saw the fact that she was the only person that you need?

that's what she thought at first. but one day, on her way to your castle. dorothea's whole word stopped at what she saw inside your room. you were leaning on the side of your bed, blood running down from your mouth. you were lifelessly looking at the blood on your hand with a rare smile on your lips.

“SISTER!”

dorothea immediately called a servant and ordered them to bring the doctor immediately. then after that, she immediately rushed to your side, crying and asking you what happened. but when you suddenly said to her that you were the one who did that to yourself, she frozed.

you looked at her with blank eyes, void of any emotions. it was completely different from those warms eyes that you had when you look at her before. but despite of noticing that, dorothea still begged you to hold on and don't leave her. but you suddenly laughed bitterly, saying that you were glad that you are finally able to escape from the chain that dorothea put on your neck.

after seeing you slowly closing your eyes. the only thing that dorothea could do was to cry. why? why? why!? even now, why did you chose death that staying by her side?! she gave you everything! money, luxuries and even the whole empire! so why?! was it because she's not raymond?

a few moments after you died, the doctor along with the servant arrived to your room. and what they saw inside your room frightened them so much. blood, that was the first thing that they saw as well as the dismembered body of your servants was seen on your room. while your dead body was carefully placed on your bed with the bloody dorothea sitting next to you. smiling while she brushed your hair.

the doctor as well as the servant couldn't help but to throw up after seeing the scene in front of them. and after hearing that sound that they made, dorothea's bloodshot eyes looked at them with a twisted smile on their face. dorothea got up from her seat as she held up her sword as she slowly made her way to them.

let's just say that after your death. everyone on your palace including your dear knights died on dorothea's hand. and even on her last moments, dorothea couldn't forget the sight of your lifeless body on her arm. and waking up as a baby and seeing your younger self smiling brightly at her doesn't help at all.

“ SISTER, I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU ESCAPE FROM ME AGAIN THIS TIME. ”

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pinkydevil16 · 1 year

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Daemon Targaryen x reader

Daemon was known for being the rogue prince, when he walked into rooms women would swoon and sigh at him, Lord's would worry for his reasoning of being at Kingslanding and the people feared the gold cloaks. However Y/n did not fear, worry or swoon at him, she simply saw him for who he truly was. Trouble, and he liked to make sure it was known to her he was going to cause trouble, he enjoyed watching her face when he would walk into the hall. His brother turning to look at his eldest daughter as Daemon would boldly stare at her, Y/n's eyebrow raised waiting for the cocky and unnecessary comment he would always make to cause her father's heart to skip in worry. Y/n and Daemon always seemed to dance around each other, her younger sister Rhaenyra finding him charming always drawn to him in a way Daemon wished Y/n would be. The older girl was wiser and quicker than her sister, she had always been that way, when their mother passed she had seen her father's gaze wandering to Alicent, Otto always whispering in his ear of what to do as he grieved for his wife. Y/n did not miss anything in court, she was the eldest, the true heir and her father had declared it the day after her mother died. Her fate sealed in that moment forever, Y/n only a young girl of 17 when she was made heir to the iron throne. She had not hid away from the title, Alicent only a year younger, only 2 years elder to Rhaenyra who did not understand why her best friend would marry her father. Y/n understood Alicent's position, she did not have a choice in the marriage but she did have a choice in her actions towards Rhaenyra.

"Hello my dearest Niece, you truly have grown since i last saw you." Daemon's voice came out like honey as he stared at Y/n, a girl now 20 who simply hummed in response to his comment, her father scowling slightly before chuckling and clapping his hand onto his brother's shoulder.

"Indeed she has Daemon, many suitors have asked for her hand but she is fierce as a Queen should be." Viserys smiled proudly at his daughter who raised her hand and caressed his face, she knew of his illness doing her best to help him when he needed it. Smiling kindly at him she bowed before leaving, finding her sister awkwardly speaking to Alicent, the two trying to salvage their friendship due to change in power.

"Ahh sister! How is our Uncle?" Rhaenyra spoke quickly, latching onto Y/n as the three fell into step. Y/n sighing and rolled her eyes as she thought of their troublesome Uncle.

"The same as always, i am quite shocked he came back considering the last time i saw him was when he was caught spewing gossip of an heir for a day." Y/n spoke calmly, collecting a cup and drinking as the two younger girls began chatting wildly of the celebrations. Alicent had trouble with her son Aegon but Rhaenyra had tried to help her, handing him off to servants so Alicent could drink with her having only given birth to him a few months prior. Y/n hoped the two would reconcile but Alicent could see the way Rhaenyra looked at Daemon, neither of the girls realising Daemon would only look Y/n in the same light. Daemon left his brother, collecting a jug of wine as he dropped next to his Niece, his wine spilling onto them both as she nurses her drink ignoring his presence.

"It is not nice to ignore your Uncle Y/n, i might be offended." He pouted, leaning back against the bench as he filled both their cups, his leg brushing against hers as he stared at her. She truly had grown, he had always known she would be beautiful as he watched her grow, when she had been declared heir he had been exiled but news had reached him quickly of the many Lords wishing to marry her.

"I do not think you could take offence even if you tried Daemon. Where is your poor wife?" Y/n turned to him, a lazy expression on her face as she drank her wine, Daemon pursing his lips before sighing loudly, stretching out so his arm looped around her shoulders and legs pressed against hers.

"The bronze bitch is in the Vale where she belongs and can damn right stay. As long as she's not near me." He huffed out, Y/n rolled her eyes, drinking some more as she relaxed against the bench, Daemon's pinching her as she gave him attitude. Y/n turning to him annoyed, grabbing his arm and pushing it into his body.

"You should respect your wife, she will have your children one day." Daemon poked her annoyed at her statement, he hated when Y/n spoke of his wife, reminding him of his 'duty' as she would say.

"She is not my wife, i did not choose her and i will not give her my child." Y/n looked at him from the corner of her eyes, pushing her cup towards him as Daemon refilled it.

"I do so hope my future husband will not see me the same way as you see your poor wife. It is not her fault Father married you two." Daemon despised when Y/n would speak of her future, in his eyes she would marry him and they would rule together, he had chosen her years ago to be his bride until Viserys had married him off and forced a wife on him.

"Do not speak of such things." Daemon groaned out, standing up and stalking off to annoy his brother, Y/n smiled at her cup knowing she had once again gotten under his skin. He was here to cause trouble for her and her father so she would cause him problems simply by being herself. She was not blind to the way he looked and spoke to her, or his reputation but she had been battling with him for years around his wants for her and she enjoyed the game.

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#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon prince #daemon targaryen x targaryen reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen headcanon #daemon targaryen gifs #house of the dragon #house of targaryen #house of the dragon Daemon #Daemon Targaryen #prince daemon targaryen

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tyrannuspitch · 7 months

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while i'm thinking about this...

violence centred on necks, a list of occurrences in mcu thor:

thor and loki's neck touch motif:

thor pulls loki out of the helicopter (ie, takes him prisoner) throat-first, and when they land, he throws him to the ground. he then repeatedly grabs loki by the scruff of the neck while shouting at and shaking him. loki does not attempt to defend himself or respond in kind. (A1)

in the same scene, rapidly switching tone but still holding loki by the neck, thor implores loki to stop fighting and come home. (or rather, continues to order him to do so, but more gently.)

thor grabs loki by the neck, covers his mouth, and slams him into a wall. again, loki does not resist, even though this one comes out of nowhere when they're supposedly allies. (T2)

thor repeatedly slams loki into a wall, pins him by his throat, and only just stops himself from hitting him. (during this one, loki cannot defend himself, because his hands are tied.) (T2)

thor holds the back of loki's neck and comforts him while he dies for thor. (not something thor wanted, but it happened regardless. TDW and sacrifice is a whole other post.) (T2)

collars:

loki's chains in T2 include a collar with no clear function besides dehumanisation. (*de-personification. you know what i mean.) given loki's jotun heritage and status somewhere along the prisoner-of-war to spoils-of-war spectrum (and odin's attitude to him at this point), this has, at least, connotations of ownership/slavery. :(

"obedience disks" in T3 - these are normally stuck on the neck, function as a shock collar, and used to enslave people. both thor and loki are given one, and both, to at least some extent, participate in the violence towards the other. (loki tries to keep thor on sakaar; thor actually sticks loki's on [though not on his neck] and uses it.)

loki is put in a collar again by the TVA in the loki show. it's not quite a shock collar, but it really looks like one, and it has similar functions. and in this case, loki is again (very literally) a) denied personhood and b) enslaved. :|

axes:

in T2, loki says that he expects to be executed, specifically by axe.

hela's only living ally in T3 is her axeman.

after thor loses mjolnir, he replaces it with an axe.

misc:

loki (probably) snaps thor's neck using the destroyer in T1.

thanos picks up loki by his throat and snaps his neck in IW.

loki and thor both pick up tony stark by his throat as a means of intimidation (in A1 and A2 respectively). thor does this alarmingly casually. (loki is not casual, but he does try to kill him.)

each of thor's friends threatens/mocks/otherwise disdains loki in quick succession in T2, and sif specifically puts a sword to his throat. (at this point, loki is an unarmed, chained prisoner.)

odin's defeat of laufey ends with his spear pointed at laufey's throat. (the framing of this is paralleled elsewhere, but the weapon isn't directly included.) (T1)

#space viking tag #well well well if it isnt the horrors.#i might be missing some ragnarok details bc i've only seen that one a few times bc i ummm don't like it #i think there's a non-aggressive one in there somewhere? idk #ANYWAY. never noticed the axes before. i wonder what THAT means #meta #ch: loki #ch: thor #r: loki + thor #ch: odin #r: loki + odin #r: loki + kang #r: loki + thanos #th: neck touch #th: abuse + empire #th: servant prince #th: sinister thor #highlights

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topguncortez · 10 months

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Court of Thieves || Chapter 1

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: The King's health is declining rapidly. The Queen sends for her son, The Prince of Brinefell and his betrothed, the Lady Mitchell

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of war, death, cursing, mentions of virginity, mentions of sex, mentions of religion, mentions of adultery, historical inaccuracies, arranged marriage.

The room was silent, except for the quiet cackling from the fireplace. The heavy curtains had been drawn, making the room nearly completely dark. The nurses and lords stood around the bed as the physician looked over King George Seresin. His wife, Queen Elizabeth stood in the corner, holding a rosary close to her heart and mumbling out Hail Marys. It was evident on everyone's faces that the King was near the end of his life. Consumption had found him, and despite the best efforts from his own physician, he was going to die. The physician stepped away from the King’s bed, bowing his head before gathering the nurses and leaving the Queen alone with her husband. She quickly moved to his bedside, sitting down on it and grabbing his hand.

“Where is my son?” King George rasped out, but not before coughing into his handkerchief, “I need to see him.”

“He is out in Westland,” Queen Elizabeth said, “I sent Lord Fitch to go fetch him.”

“He needs,” Another coughing spell hit the king as he struggled to make out the words, “He needs to-”

“I know, my King,” The Queen said, as she ran a hand down her husband’s face. She took the cloth from his hand and wiped the spittle from his lips, “The prince will follow through on his arrangement. There will be an heir to the Seresin throne. I am sure of it.”

The King nodded, “There must be.” He found enough strength to pull himself up, holding on to both of his wife’s hands, “He. . . He is my only hope for what I have created to live on.”

The Queen nodded and helped the King settle back in bed. She tucked him back in and placed a kiss on his forehead, mumbling yet another prayer, before standing up and giving him a curtsey. She looked up at the man standing in the doorway, noticing the way his sad blue eyes looked at the King.

“Lord Floyd,” The Queen acknowledged him. Bob bowed to the Queen, allowing her to pass by before walking behind her.

“Has there been an official announcement?” He asked and the Queen shook her head, “And the Prince?”

“Fighting on the front in Argerus,” The Queen said and began walking back to her quarters, “We have sent Mister Brook to go fetch him and bring him back at once”. The various maids and servants walking the halls all bowed to her as she walked by. Queen Elizabeth was loved by the people who worked in the castle, it was clear to see. She had been popular when she was being courted by the now King, and it only grew when she became part of the monarchy.

The Lord Robert Floyd was one of the King’s closest confidants. The King had known his father, Sir Arthur and had introduced him to his wife Lady Genevive. Bob had lost both of them during the harsh winter several years ago, consumption taking them both. The King had taken Bob in, giving him a role in his court, and treated him like a son. In fact, the Prince sometimes thought that the King preferred Lord Floyd over himself.

“He does not know of his fate,” The Queen said as she walked into her quarters, “The King had yet to tell him before falling ill.”

“The Prince does not know he is to be betrothed to the Lady Y/N of North Island?” Bob asked, and the Queen nodded.

“The King. . . he wanted to wait until he could secure the rebels in Argerus before telling the Prince of his future marriage. But that clearly isn’t the case anymore,” The Queen chuckled, “The arrangement happened years ago when the Prince was first born. When Sir Mitchell came to us asking for military strength, we gave it to him in the promise that his daughter, the Lady Y/N, would marry our son.”

Bob nodded, “So the Prince marries Lady Mitchell, and then. . .”

“Again,” The Queen sighed, “We never thought that the Prince would be facing the throne this soon, but the King thought ahead. The way for the Prince to take the crown, a child must be born.”

Bob’s jaw dropped slightly as he looked at the Queen. He went to take a step forward to make a claim for the Prince that this deal was rightfully absurd. The Prince? Settle down and have a child before taking over what was his to have? But before Lord Floyd could make an argument, he was pushed out of the room by the Queen’s ladies in waiting. He quickly turned on his heels, making his way down the halls towards his own quarters. He sat down at his desk, and pulled out his ink and pen addressing the letter to King Mitchell, telling him of the King’s fate.

— — —

His smile was bright as he sat in his decorative chair and watched as several jestors and actors entertained him. They were acting out the death of King Metcalf’s right hand priest, whom they had taken care of this afternoon. Jake took a sip of wine from his glass before setting it on the bountiful table in front of him. It was truly a feast fit for a king, a table full of imported foods, cheeses, quail, wines, anything that the Crown Prince wanted, he had been given, even in the middle of battle.

Jake’s favorite thing about these parties were the women that attended. He had his eye on a few of the ladies of the Queen’s court that had joined him out in Argerus. One in particular, Lady Jane, had most of his attention when he was not directing soldiers into battle. She was beautiful, her blonde hair like a halo that shined around her. She was smart, but quiet as a good lady in waiting should be. His exploits with her were kept in the dark, seeing as though if the Queen found out she wasn’t a virgin, she would be kicked from court.

Jake wiped his mouth with his napkin, sitting up in his chair and turning towards his best friend, “Tell me, your grace,” Javy turned and gave him a smirk, “Would Lady Jane make a good Queen?”

Javy bursted out laughing at his friend’s words, “You? Settle down and make an honest man of yourself? The world would turn cold first.”

Jake chuckled and nodded his head. It was true, he loved the bachelor life too much to give it up. He saw the way of life his father led, and it wasn’t something that he looked forward to taking over. It was more than just being the head of the royal army, which Jake could handle. There was politics, a thing that went way over his head. There were relationships that Jake wished his father would end, but decided to keep for the better of the crown. There were more responsibilities that would fall on Jake’s shoulders that he wasn’t prepared to bear.

“But if you had to pick one of the ladies, it would make sense to pick the Lady Jane,” Javy nodded, “She comes from nobility. Her father is the Earl of Westland.”

“She’s quiet,” Jake added.

“I wouldn’t say quiet. . . swear it sounds like two cats in heat from your chambers,” Javy elbowed his friend, Jake just smirked.

He picked up his chalice and settled back in his chair, watching as various lords and ladies danced and entertained him. Jake loved parties like these. He swore the moment he was crowned King, he would throw the grandest party in all of Brinefell. He hated to admit that he had been planning his coronation since he came of age. If he was going to have to give up his freedoms and settle down, he might as well go out with a bang.

“Your grace?” Jake looked over his shoulder, seeing one of his noblemen standing next to him.

“Mister Brook,” Jake nodded. He held up his now empty chalice for a cupbearer to fill, “What have you?”

“A message from the castle,” Mister Brook answered.

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed as he fully turned his body. He stood quickly, seeing his father’s closest advisor standing beside Mister Brook. Jake nodded his head for them to follow him, moving towards a quieter place to talk. He led them across the yard, passing by small fires that were surrounded by soldiers and women to keep them comfortable.

Jake pushed open the flap to his tent, leading the two men inside.

“That will be all now, Mister Brook,” Mister Brook said to the man. He obeyed and bowed before the Prince and the advisor before making his way out and standing guard of the tent, “I come with urgent news from the Castle.”

“Share,” Jake said, walking over to the table. He grabbed the pitcher of wine and poured them two glasses.

“Thank you,” Mister Brooksaid, taking the glass, “The Queen requests for you to return at once.”

Jake scoffed, “I do hope she is aware I am leading a battle.”

“And Lord Machado is more than fit to overtake for you. It is your father, my Prince,” Jake looked up at the man, “He has fallen ill, and his days are numbered. You need to go back to the Castle and prepare to take the throne. . . and for your marriage.”

“Marriage?” Jake asked, “But I have not courted any-”

“To the Lady Mitchell. We leave in the morning. Gather your things.”

Jake opened his mouth to argue, but Mister Brook left the tent quickly. Jake looked around the room, feeling anger rise in his belly. He was prepared to take the throne, prepared to take over for his father and rule Brinefell. But marriage. . . no one had told him about how to handle a marriage.

— — —

“Keep your breathing steady, your eyes trained to the target,” His voice was smooth as his hand splayed against your belly, “Then you pull back until the string is taut, hold your breath,” You looked up at him, his soft honey brown eyes glancing down at you, “And… let it sail.”

You released the bow string, watching as the arrow sailed through the air and landed with a satisfied ‘thwack’ against the target. You lowered the bow and smiled, turning over your shoulder to see Bradley with the same smile on his face.

“Getting better each week, ducky,” He said, taking the bow from your hands.

“One day I will be better than you,” You teased. Bradley shot you a smirk as he grabbed another arrow from his quiver and set up his bow. You watched his back muscles flex as he pulled the bowstring back.

“Not a chance,” He said, before letting the string go. You didn’t even need to look to know that Bradley had hit the bullseye deadcenter. He was a natural archerer, the talent having been passed down to him through his genes. His father, the late Lord Nicholas Bradshaw had been your father’s lead hunter. You loved listening to your father’s stories about his conquests in boar hunting with Lord Nicholas.

“Will you ever teach me to shoot horseback?” You asked.

“No,” Bradley shook his head, “Not risking you trying to multitask on horseback. You are unsteady as it is on a horse, ducky.” You rolled your eyes. You had fallen off once when you were a child, and Bradley never let you live it down, “Maybe next time I’ll let you walk as you shoot targets.”

“Maybe next time you should go down and drop your-”

“Lady Y/N!” You rolled your eyes as you heard your nurse calling for you, “Your father needs to see you at once!”

“Be right there, Mistress Rotchford!” You shouted back. Bradley set down his bow and went down to the targets to gather his spent arrows, “If it's another lord trying to court me I think I might stab my eyes out.”

“Maybe then it’ll be easier for you to find a husband,” Bradley joked as he walked back to you. You playfully shoved his shoulder as you turned to walk back to the castle to clean up. You knew that your father was probably wandering the halls wondering where you had gone. It wasn’t uncommon for you to leave the castle grounds and wander off with Bradley. He was your best friend, and one of the only person you felt like you could bear your true soul too. Of course you had various ladies in waiting who followed your every move, but you didn’t trust them with a single secret.

“Whatever will I do if you get called to go join the masses in Eastland,” You said, kicking rocks as you walked.

“Not get in trouble with mistress Rotchford,” Bradley gently knocked you with his elbow, “Maybe I’ll come back and you’ll be a true and proper lady.”

“A lady or a maiden?” You wiggled your eyebrows, causing Bradley to blush. You giggled as his ears turned red and he looked down at his feet. It was always a sight to see the six foot tall man turn red like a school boy caught stealing an extra piece of bread. You and Bradley talked openly about things that would have you sent straight to the confessional booth. You knew that Bradley was experienced, more than you certainly ever would be. He liked to tease you about it, make you all worked up with thoughts that you shouldn’t have.

“A maiden,” Bradley answered your question, “Until you are courted and married off, a maiden you shall remain.”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s rather boring.”

Bradley wanted to argue, but you pushed open the door to the castle. He would rather keep his tongue than ask what you were thinking. He knew that going to your room at night was highly frowned upon, and even the slightest rumor that you laid in bed with Bradley would absolutely ruin any chance that either of you had at marrying well.

He followed you dutifully through the castle, watching the sway of your brown dress as you acknowledged the maids and servants. You were always so nice to them, coming from the years of decorum and schooling you had. You learned from a young age that being nice to the maids meant that you always got the best wine and the warmest baths.

“Ah! And here she is!” You smiled at your father, Pete, as you walked into the main banquet hall. The table in the middle was covered in food; a large roasted pig in the middle with fruits, cheeses and breads surrounding it.

“Sir Fitch, I introduce you to my daughter, the Lady Y/N,” Pete introduced you to a tall man, dressed in what you knew was royal garb. You curtsied to him, and he bowed his head.

“It is nice to finally meet you,” Sir Fitch said, “The King speaks your praises. I wish I was here in better circumstances, but I am afraid I am not. The Castle calls your daughter to court immediately, Sir Mitchell.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at your father, “Whatever for could the King want me at court?”

Pete sighed, “It’s not for the King. It’s for the Prince. . . your new husband.”

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harunayuuka2060 · 1 year

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MC: *on their way to bring Leona's food when a servant blocks them*

Random servant: Hey, you!

MC: *smiles* Yes?

Random servant: *looks hostile* What's your ulterior motive?

MC: *still smiling* Can you elaborate?

Random servant: Don't act dumb! No one wants to serve the second prince because he's the worst prince that has come to existence!

MC: Ha, that's quite an insult there, bud. I suggest that you move aside while I'm still nice.

Random servant: What did you say?!

MC: I said...

MC: Move.

MC: While I'm still thinking straight. Oh, on the other hand, *moves closer to them* I won't get in trouble even if you disappear all of a sudden.

Random servant: Th-The king will know about this!

MC: *smirks* And the king will know how you insulted his son.

MC: *leans to whisper* Go ahead.

Random servant: *shivers then immediately runs away from them*

MC: Hmph.

Kid Leona: I didn't know you could threaten other servants.

MC: *turns around* Eh? I'm not threatening anyone. That's called retaliation, Your Highness. *smiles*

Kid Leona: ...

Kid Leona: What have you brought for me?

MC: Cabbage rolls!

Kid Leona: *gives them a sour look*

Kid Leona: How many times do I need to tell you that I HATE vegetables?

MC: Eh... The cabbage is just a wrapping, you know? The filling inside is meat.

Kid Leona: ...

Kid Leona: Remove the cabbage.

MC: *laughs* No. I won't do that. You're a growing boy. You need vegetables.

Kid Leona: *frowns at them*

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst kid leona

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palskippah · 5 months

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Hi!

I've seen people draw Bowser's dad or talk about him in fics, but I wanna think Bowser only had a mom :y just for the fun of it asdkaslkd

It's under a keep reading bc it's a tad bit long, if you'll read it then prepare for nonsensical rambling :y btw it's silly too

Like, she was a very big royal koopa queen who he doesn't remember because she left when he was too baby still (kicked the bucket 🧍) and Kamek (and Kammy) had to take care and raise him since then. And maybe Kamek jut did the bare minimum for him to remember her and Kammy actually put more effort into it- but it's because her death hurt Kamek too much.

Also he and the queen were in a sort of situationship JDKDHD

Anyone would notice he stared at her a bit too fondly, and Kammy made sure to let her sibling know he was being a lovesick fool and everyone could tell. Even the queen. Especially the queen.

But alas, she was the highest rank of royalty and Kamek was her advisor, so it would raise suspicion if they had something, he worried about people thinking they were colluding or something (my paranoid magikoopa that missed the chance of his life-)

She's just like Bowser but maybe beefier and more regal and likes to use her crown and jewelry always. She has a huge lot of confidence and is very assertive.

But they have a close relationship, and one day she's like: "Kamek, may I ask you something? Not from queen to advisor."

"From friend to friend? :>" he says smiling. But the queen shakes her head.

"No, from gorgeous koopa queen to lovesick fool-"

And anyway, that's how she asks him out.

So, the queen (who maybe is called Magma River or something volcanic-themed like that, she gets called Queen River?) got fed up on waiting for the silly advisor to take the lead, so she did. And then she died. So there's that. And Bowser was barely a year old.

Anyways.

Like imagine Queen River had Bowser the same way Bowser had Junior. Also she can't change her size at will, so when Bowser hatches she's like ??? bc royal koopalings are very small, but she's not sure she's even seen one, and by the size of his egg, she thought he'd be small, but not that small.

The baby is named after the queen's father, mostly because she pretends to have no idea what name to choose, so River unsubtly leaves it up to Kamek (and that makes him very joyful, bc naming a child is very important, and she's trusting him on it, as if he were the father 🙏- Kammy teases the hell out of him after they're out of the queen's hearing range)

So, they're prince Bowser the second :] (then they become he or whatvers jaskdja when Bowser's older)

-Anywaysss, imagine that in Bowser's castle, where there is this stone sculpture of his head in the front, is actually queen River's face- Bowser just looks way too much like her, sans the purple scales and shell, so the sculpture is never taken down, just like, reused as Bowser's?

-When years pass and Bowser's a toddler and then a kid, Kamek spoils the hell out of him. He gets him one hundred toys, let's the koopaling order him around, and even at times Bowser get very disrespectful and hits him- at that times it's Kammy who has to put her foot down, bc Queen River wouldn't have let her kid talk to anyone the way Bowser did to the servants or Kamek. The queen was straight forward and respectful of the staff- so Kammy tries to right Bowser's behavior now that he's small- it doesn't work very well, bc he still has an awful temper, but at least he treats the workers at the castle decently.

-Maybe the queen dies in a tragic way or whatever, and it has something to do with another kingdom, so they have a war and the koopas win and they have another kingdom to rule or whatevs. Also (here's more rambling) what if the Darklands is like a Yugoslavia (or something??) and Queen River did a great job of ruling all the lands but then she died and it all went down bc the advisors and council don't know how to rule properly -and the queen didn't have more family apart from her baby-so the Darklands dissolves and becomes only the Koopa Kingdom, the Goomba Kingdom, the Bob-omb's and all that - (Then when Bowser takes the crown, he decides he wants to rule all the Darklands again and that's why he starts wars and wins them and whatnot-? He forces the Darklands together again :[)

-Bowser gets curious about the rest of the kingdoms too, so he arranges meetings to meet the other rulers. Particularly in the Mushroom Kingdom, there happens to be the young princess Peach who has recently taken the lead of the kingdom. And when Bowser sees her, she's very beautiful and nice and has the prettiest eyes he's ever seen, and he determines he'll set things right with all the other kingdoms to gain her favor, so she agrees to become his queen and wife.

>So he does, and the kingdoms have a truce and a good relationship, and Bowser and Peach are maybe something close to friends, but then he proposes, and she rejects him. And then from there it's all the kidnapping stuff bc Bowser's young and stupid and obsessed with her in an unhealthy way.

[This part has to do with my Bowuigi family au-] So, the name of the mom was Magma River, and when the koopalings suggest names for their soon-to-arrive baby sibling, Morton suggests 'Magma :]' and Luigi's like, 'ooh, that's a good one :D' and Bowser's like 'hey that was my mom's name :3' but Kamek's like :'U inside bc that's his love's name! And wouldn't it be amazing if one of Bowser's children had her name??

So, he's very very glad that Luigi finally says 'Magma it is!' all happy bc they have an official name for their baby now. And maybe when Magma's born and shifts to koopa form, she looks so much like the queen (actually she looks like Bowser- but let the magikoopa dream) and he's like :'V

I got off the rails 🧍 that's what I had to say shdjdh the queen enjoys being a mom all of one year and then she dies :'v

River always got all excited to talk anyone's ears off about her amazing little child and showing photos from a wallet that has like 12546 photos in it to anyone that talked to her-

Kammy and the queen were close friends too! It was the magikoopa that suggested Queen River better do something about her relationship with Kamek, bc her idiot sibling never would and all that.

Anyways, as usual, bless you if you read till here sjdksj

#super mario bros #my art #bowser koopa #headcanon #?#kamek #text #luigi mario #big fan of Dr. E. Gadd and Kamek as an old couple that debate magic vs science or whatever JDKDHD so there's that too 🧍?#kammy #River had no family apart from Bowser #and Bowser has a big family #there's something in there maybe alksdas #also royal koopas live very long #so maybe her dad the king gave her the reign and then he died and she was like D:#bc River's all alone now and she focuses on ruling the darklands well #and many many years later she has bowser and she's like :D woo family!

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sleeplessdreamer123 · 1 year

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Fanfic Idea! (ABO Lucemond, Where Lucerys enters the harem)

Lucerys was the only one who managed to escape the assassination attempt, though he still bore a scar on his cheek when his attacked tried to slice his face. He hid himself, praying to all the gods that the rest of his family survived, but to no avail. He watched as the traitors dragged the body of his pregnant mother, the soon-to-be-Empress of the throne, her Prince and Lord consorts, and his brothers and presented it to the cheering crowd. He could only stand by and watch in anger, in anguish, as they burned them all. Again, he could do nothing as they crowned Aemond as the new Emperor of the Realms. He hid himself away, pretended to be a fisherman, until a letter was sent to him from the Imperial palace.

He was panicking, thinking that Aemond would now exact his revenge on him, now that he was without the protection of his mother and fathers. But it wasn't from his uncle. No, it was from his favored concubine, the one rumored to have the highest chance of becoming empress, his aunt, Alys.

She wrote to him in haste, telling him that she knows of his desire, that even if he's safer pretending he had no relation to the Targaryen royalty, she knows what he truly wished to do. To take revenge. For his entire family, for her brother, she asked him to enter the palace once again, to help her destroy the Hightowers from the inside. She told him she would give him a way to enter without suspicion, and that if he truly wished to avenge the family, he would take it.

At first, Lucerys thought that she was talking about entering the palace as a servant, for he was much too small to pretend to be a beta guard.

Then the announcement to bring possible attendants for the concubines rang all throughout the Realms, and he understood his aunt's plan. He needed to enter as his aunt's attendants. Being an attendant would mean being the closest to her aunt, under her protection. It also meant being targeted by other concubines and attendants who vy for the attention of the emperor. He needed to do his best.

His aunt sent clothes the moment he agreed to her wishes. Soft clothes that reminded him of the past luxuries he had. He also gave him a veil to cover up the scar. Years ago, it would have been impossible for him to enter even as a servant with his scar, but the Emperor, who was scarred himself, allowed it, as long as they would wear something to hide the healed injury.

It was the first time he ever thanked the gods he scarred his uncle.

He knew what it took to be an attendant, he pretended to be a beta, and he managed to pass every possible test with flying colors. He was, of course, given to Alys, who asked for him personally. He was the only new attendant she chose, and the moment the doors closed, she hugged him tight.

She gives him the herbs he needed to cover up his scent and deal with his heat. He, in return, learned of many things. He spied, he played along, he managed to capture the heart of guards and servants alike. Soon, he became Alys' most trusted attendant, her closest confendant.

Everything was going fine. He managed to feed Aemond's pregnant concubine moon tea, he shielded his aunt from attempts to ruin her beauty and reputation, and raise his own reputation as a perfect attendant.

Then an imperial court order arrived. He thought it would be for Alys, maybe a rise in ranks? Maybe a new gift?

It was instead addressed to him. His uncle noticed him, or rather, noticed that he was in fact an omega. He may not know it was his nephew, but to Lucerys, it felt like he was getting closer and closer to the execution block. He was to be raised from attendant to low ranking concubine.

He had to accept the order.

His aunt wasn't displeased. If anything, she looked like she knew it would happen.

"Lucerys, you need to rise the ranks. Higher than me, higher than Imperial Consort. You need to be Empress. I have no powerful allies I can depend on if I wear the crown, but if you, the Black Empress' last living child, wears it, your mother's supporters will rally. They will fight for you. Once you reach the rank of Empress, reveal yourself to your grandfather, Corlys. It will better your chances of gaining his alliance. The rest will soon follow."

Soon, Lucerys had his heat, an intense one after so many months of taking herbs. To his dismay, the Emperor was approaching his rut, and decided to spend it with him. He prayed to the gods Aemond wouldn't recognize him, prayed that the twelve years of not seeing each other would help Lucerys escape his uncle's recognition.

His uncle didn't ask him to remove his veil, it being the only thing that stayed on for his entire heat.

It became clear that he became the new favorite, his rank raising from low ranking concubine, to mid ranking concubine after only two months, to the jealousy of the others.

To further add insult to their injury, Emperor Aemond only ever visited Lucerys, even Alys never got this much attention. Again, he he didn't ask Lucerys to take of the veil, an odd thing Lucerys was both curious and grateful for. Aemond would pamper him. He would reach under his veil and feed him, he would place him on his lap, inhaling the scent from his nape, he would even ask him to wear certain clothing. Clothing Lucerys knew he would have worn had he stayed a prince. Lucerys is getting worried his uncle might have recognized him.

What he didn't know was that Aemond never really though of him as anything other than his nephew's replica, a replacement for his Lucerys. He had the same eyes, the same curly hair he remembered from the last banquet they had together, hells, he even smelt alike, though the scent of the sea is stronger with this boy. Aemond refuses to let him remove the veil because he believed it would destroy his fantasy of him being his nephew. He would pamper him, and perhaps, once his seed would take, he would imagine it was his son with Lucerys.

And so it became like this for a few weeks, Lucerys being nervous that his uncle might actually know who he was and kill him, and Aemond believing that he found the perfect replica of Lucerys, using him to further his fantasies.

Once Lucerys found out (his uncle moaned his name, his real name, then quickly told him to forget what he said once they were done copulating), it eased his anxiety, and he decided to use his uncle's favoritism to his advantage. Something as small as adding more Targaryen decor, replacing his mother's decoration with ones from Lucerys' memory, to something as large as sawing discord, using ones he found out as an attendant, pointing out possible trickery from his family members, the Hightowers, and others from the greens' inner circles.

He continues to rise the ranks, swiftly dealing with the other concubines and consorts, sometimes with the help of his aunt, Alys, and ensuring that Aemond would come to trust him, and his words, slowly making Aemond unable to trust his Hightower side of the family, along with his inner circle, forcing him to only trust Corlys, who did his job splendidly (according to Lucerys) and the Maester Gerardys, who was loyal to the crown (who knew it was Lucerys the moment he laid eyes on him).

Soon, Lucerys reached the rank of Empress, and by then Aemond ignored the advices and words of his council, in fact, he got rid of some of his most loyal men in favor of the men who were once loyal to Rhaenyra, and only ever listened to his Empress' words. Many of the loyal greens tried to get rid of Lucerys, but were quickly blocked by the Emperor himself. What was more, the Empress already gave birth to three children, the only children of the Emperor (despite the large amount of women and omegas sent by the green council) two of which are men, an heir and a spare. The smallfolk adored him, the nobles he placed on the small council, though wary of him at first, began to admire him, and when he revealed to them who he truly was, they swore their loyalty to him. Corlys and Maester Gerardys wept for the return of their sweet boy, their dead that rose again.

Soon, everyone knew, while the Emperor may be said to rule, it was the Empress who was in command.

And once Lucerys have taken over and became the one in power, overthrowing his husband and making him Prince consort, imprisoning him in his chambers, once he revealed to Aemond who he truly was, it was then that Lucerys truly won.

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

Today's inspiration:

#aemond x lucerys #lucemond #lucerys velaryon #aemond targaryen #lucerys x aemond #aemond one eye #alpha aemond #omega lucerys #concubine Lucerys #emperor aemond

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ystrike1 · 1 year

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The Price of Breaking Up - By Aidera (8/10)

Revenge can get a little overblown. Sometimes it feels unnecessary. In this case it doesn't. It's about a toxic husband that goes way too far, and a queen that isn't willing to put up with his behavior.

Ersia has the perfect life. She is the spoiled daughter of a Duke. She was born with pink hair, which is the symbol of the Saint. Only the next Saint has pink hair, so Ersia is whisked away to marry the prince.

Which kinda sucks.

Ersia has to work hard to be a worthy Queen and Saint. She does it because she loves the prince. She adores him. Her new position makes her lonely. She was separated from her beloved family. He was and is her only comfort...and her first love.

That's not toxic at all...

One day...the Saint Prophecy changes? Huh? Ersia is already Queen though??? It's been more than a decade, but a woman named Neva takes her place. Neva is a moron that doesn't know how to do anything. There's a plot afoot. A very suspicious one. The prince has become a king now, and Ersia can barely recognize him. It's like she doesn't know him at all. The King heartlessly annuls their marriage for Neva, even though it's a politically stupid move.

Ersia vows to make him pay, literally. She's one of the most influential nobles in the Empire. She's not a spineless baby that needs a king.

Her parents and brother also adore her. They immediately invite her back home, and Ersia coldly asks for permission to leave. Neva starts bullying her. The ladies who kissed her ass start trashing her. She just wants to go home and get over her heartbreak....

....

....after she causes as much destruction as humanly possible.

Ersia drugs Neva. She uses Neva's new title as Saint Queen against her. You can't just be the Saint Queen. You actually have to do work. Neva fails. She's not able to rule anything. Not even her tiny group of followers. Nobody in the castle actually likes Neva. They would prefer Ersia. The switch in the prophecy threw a wrench in the works. The few people who like Neva are also lazy people who were jealous of Ersia for...well being the perfect Saint and Queen all at once.

Ersia does horrible shit to Neva and the King she no longer recognizes. She uses her sexy servant, Asha, as bait and Neva falls for it right away. The King isn't paying attention to Neva. He barely speaks to her, even though she's supposed to be the new Queen. What the heck is happening? Alfrado, the second prince, is madly in love with Ersia by the way. He starts to bully Neva, and he joins Ersia's side over the king.

Neva becomes so pathetic and misguided that you almost feel bad for her. She tries to steal Ersia's old wedding dress, because she's really that obsessed with just looking like a Saint...instead of actually behaving like one.

Alfrado is clearly not going to win, but he is definitely a yandere. He's in Ersia's personal space as soon as she gets divorced. He betrays his king and brother for her. He is willing to do so much violence for her. He brings roses to her bedroom and he's frustrated because he's younger than her. He's willing to do anything to make her see him as a man....but that isn't going to work.

He is not the love interest.

The plot thickens like soup after chapter fifteen. King Asshole is in love with Ersia. The issue is he wants her to love him more. She cares about duty, and her pride, and her family. He wants her to ONLY care about him. He knows Neva is a fake. The prophecy is kind of political anyway. A loser like Neva can never have the position of Queen. King Asshole is just using Neva to make Ersia jealous. It makes sense...but it's totally nuts. King Asshole is bitter, because he knows he loves Ersia move than she loves him. He's super misguided and dumb. Bringing in another woman is going way too far. Obviously, he's not the love interest either.

I think it's this guy. Asriel. The Pope. Religious magic people are really important in this story. Somebody in the temple lied to make Neva the fake Queen, and now Ersia is single again. The pope immediately proposes, and he's extremely shady. Ersia has zero chemistry with King Asshole and Alfrado. There's also a dirty implication...

It seems like the pope is letting this bullshit happen because he wants Ersia. Apparently, they have met before. She just doesn't remember him. Hmm. I read some novel spoilers. There is no real saint. It was always politics. Ersia was chosen because of her high rank, pink hair, and the fact that the previous king was in love with her mother. It's complicated, and at least three men around Ersia are nutty in different ways.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon

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xianxia-if · 2 years

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Reincarnated in a Xianxia World

is a fantasy interactive novel. It can be played on both pc and mobile, it’s entirely text-based, it's currently in development, and it will be released episodically.

GENRES:

Fantasy, Romance, Chinese Historical, Xianxia, Portal Fantasy/Isekai

RATING:

Rated M, for Mature Audiences, 18+.

CONTENT WARNINGS

Violence, death, murder, and sexually suggestive themes.

SUMMARY

It’s been years since you remembered your past life and it took you even longer to realize that you had the tremendous misfortune to be reborn as a villain in the xianxia tv show you were watching before your sudden death.

You are reborn as a whelp of the Red Lantern District. Your mother died at your birth and you grew up assuming you’ll be just another courtesan, at first. When the courtesans start getting murdered, cultivators show up, suspecting the hand of spirits or demons. You catch the eye of a head cultivator. They are suspicious of you and fascinated by you. They unmask the fact that you aren’t human, not anymore, and convinces you into becoming their disciple.

Now as a disciple cultivator to a cultivation sect, you must do everything you can to keep your heritage a secret. Unfortunately, now there is someone besides just you that knows that you are not human and they are eager to make use of you. Once you are trained enough, that is.

Whatever long term plans your master now has for you, you want no part in. But that is no longer in your hands.

FEATURES:

Customize the main character. Choose their looks, gender, personality, and more.

Choose your heritage, whether you are a celestial spirit or a demon.

If you’re a celestial spirit, you can decide whether you are a nine-tailed fox spirit, water dragon spirit, peach blossom tree spirit, or moon rabbit spirit.

If you’re a demon, you can be a heavenly demon, moth demon, or a dream demon.

Become a cultivator!

Choose your cultivation style: physical cultivation, spiritual cultivation, musical cultivation, demonic cultivation, or medical cultivation.

Choose between five types of personality: (1) soft-spoken and diplomatic; (2) outspoken and acerbic and prickly, (3) humorous and playful and charming, (4) stoic and non-judgmental and aloof, or (5) blunt, awkward, and a bit tactless.

Romance 1 of 7 possible options or remain unattached.

Choose missions to undergo as a disciple cultivator and prove your worth!

Explore the Demon, Mortal, and Celestial Realms!

Your moral alignment is your choice. Be a villain or attempt to be a hero.

ROMANTIC OPTIONS:

Feiyu / Fang Hua | Your Shizun | Male/Female Human

A possible ex-lover of yours, they're the head of the demonic cultivation department and is renown for their unscrupulous, seedy ways. They are also the only one, besides yourself, that knows your true heritage.

Chenxing / Chenguang | The Unicorn | Male/Female Celestial Immortal - Unicorn Spirit

Here is the original protagonist of the tv drama you were watching. They are a unicorn spirit and a medical cultivator. Normally they are quite soft spoken and shy, a typical white lotus.

Ming Yu / Meixing | The 12th Prince/Princess | Male/Female Human

Ever since you competed in the tournament in the Alliance Conference, you have caught their eye. The sect is not powerful enough to turn down the requests of a Prince/Princess, so you’re stuck in arranged marriage with them.

Xuesong | Your Rival | Non-Binary Snake Demon

They extremely dislike you. They work for Shizune as their demon servant and they are completely loyal to him. They distrust you because they think you are going to betray him. Cold, icy, and calculating, they operate from the shadows and you are often teamed up with them for missions.

Ruoxuan | The Best Friend | Non-Binary Human

A possible best friend, they are friendly and easygoing. They would be more popular if they had befriended someone else. Still, they have loyally stuck to your side for years despite all the bad rumours about you.

Dong Yang / Dongmei | The Assassin | Male/Female Crow Demon

They intended to kill you. Unfortunately for them, you easily overpower them and now they owe you a debt for sparing their life.

Haoyu / Huiying | The Hermit | Male/Female Celestial Immortal - Star Spirit

A reclusive celestial immortal scholar and fortune-teller. They have lived a life of seclusion, far away from the Celestial court or Mortal world.

DEMO TBA

#interactive fiction #interactive story #twine story #twine game #twine if #twine #xianxia #xianxia if

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petrichorium · 1 year

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To Serve

in which crown prince chigiri hyoma wants to reward his loyal attendant.

chigiri hyoma x gn!reader

word count: 3k reader: neutral/slightly masc (they/them pronouns, clothing not described, neutral terms, performs a masc role) tags: fluff, royal au, mutual pining, non-sexual intimacy, navigating an odd relationship, fun prince/servant devotion note: my first commission omg!!! this was truly so fun to write, thank you so so much to the lovely incredible @syddisheep for reaching out to me ♥️ if you enjoyed this, or any of the rest of my writing, and would like to commission me, check my commission sheet to learn how & see if any slots are open!

“Is there something wrong, your highness?”

[Name]’s words snap him out of the reverie he’d wandered into. He blinks, shaking his head and feeling the weight of his wet hair heavy against his nape. He wishes quietly that [Name] were the type of person who would allow him to hug them; would perhaps even hug back, allow him to melt into it. But he knows they aren’t, just as he knows they’re fully taking in his slack jaw and starry eyes aimed at them, which is why their brow is furrowed and their head cocked.

“You’re too good to me,” he tells them, and they give him a muted smile.

“Impossible, my prince. I am merely here to serve you to the best of my ability. Now, let me finish your hair. I won’t have you complaining to me all day if it dries poorly.”

Hyoma returns from his hunt victorious. He doesn’t carry his quarry himself; he’d handed it off to a knight, who is now long gone, delivering it to the kitchens dutifully. Later, he will provide Hyoma with the antlers. He’s not entirely sure yet what he’ll do with them.

[Name] stands waiting at the stables, that pristine posture—spine stiff, shoulders back, arms clasped behind them—striking a familiar silhouette before Hyoma and his party draw close enough to see any features. They greet him with a bow.

“Welcome back, your highness,” they say. “How was the hunt?”

“Fair,” he says in turn. “I caught a stag. It gave me a good chase.”

He chooses to abstain from telling them of the wild boar downed by the Wanima brothers. They raise a gloved hand, palm up, for Hyoma to take and allow them to brace his descent from his stallion. He does so without hesitation.

(And then, as his knee twinges in pain when he lands on solid ground, he is thankful for the aid.

He hides his wince. [Name] sees it nonetheless.)

Hyoma lets his eyes slide over to them, voice light as he continues. “You wouldn’t happen to be in need of anything made from antler?”

They shake their head. “No, my prince.”

“Ah.”

The pair makes their way to Hyoma’s chambers swiftly. In the privacy of his bedchamber, with servants preparing the bath in the adjoining room, [Name] helps him out of his overclothes. The brushing of their hands against his shoulders is brief, their fingers nimble as they pull off his coat and kneel to remove his riding boots, careful with his knee. He’s quickly left in his loose linen undershirt and his trousers; they’ll be removed soon enough as he makes use of the bath waiting for him.

It’s now that they give him a more thorough once-over. They take care not to touch him now, eyes scanning his form attentively, arms tucked behind their back even as they lean in close. Yet when they make a gesture for him to move he ignores it, determined to force them to reach out again.

They sigh as if aggrieved. Still, they lower to bend before him and move closer. Hands still gloved, those deft fingers wrap gently around his lame knee, turning his leg slowly to test his mobility, keen eyes leaping from the limb to his face to gauge his reaction.

“Do you ache?” they ask.

“Always.”

The response earns him only the hint of a smile and a mildly exasperated shake of the head, and he fights down the wholly undignified grin that threatens to spread across his face. [Name]’s thumb and forefinger tighten just minutely upon his knee, not enough to pinch, but the motion sends a little thrill through him.

“I shall tend to your knee, of course,” they say, “but where else?”

They shift him more, precise in their grasp to force him to move his entire body, and he winces at the growing soreness in his thigh and the harsh pangs in his lower back—the result of compensating for his injury, [Name] tells him. He certainly believes them.

“The typical places,” he settles upon reporting, and they nod in satisfaction.

“Very well. I have a salve I’d like to test out, it ought to soothe some of the pain.”

They hold out a hand as always to help him up from his seat. Then, once he stands, they turn and exit, heading for the bathing room ahead of him to dismiss the servants.

They’re the only one inside once he enters himself.

The motions of allowing them to disrobe him fully are ingrained so deeply within him that he thinks of nothing while he raises his arms to help them remove his tunic and then steps out of his underclothes. They lend a helping hand, too, when he steps into the bathtub, bracing his weight as he balances gingerly on his sore legs.

He settles quickly, leaning back against the edge and allowing the hot water to soothe his aches and pains. He feels more than sees, with his eyes blissfully closed, [Name] pull their stool up closer, surely perch on it with that ever-perfect posture. They shuffle, making just enough noise that it beckons him to blink his eyes open to look.

Those pristine white gloves lay perfectly folded next to them on the stool. At just the sight his breath hitches minutely—hopefully too minutely for [Name] to notice, though he doubts it. His eyes snap away just as fingers find his hair; he closes them again swiftly, but that doesn’t stop his mind from conjuring up the image of their bare hands.

He still leans back into the touch, unable to stop himself, as [Name] undoes the knotted ribbon holding his locks back from his face. Folding it up just as diligently as their own gloves, they set it aside and comb their fingers through his hair just enough to loosen it. They don’t speak to request he dip his head back into the steaming water but rather they guide him physically, palms pressing against his scalp to press him down softly.

Often, Hyoma is content with this. Often he allows himself to enjoy it; the quiet, the company, the tending. Today, however, it isn’t enough.

“One of these days, [Name], you ought to join me in here,” he says when he comes up, as [Name] reaches out with dried hands to wipe the water from his eyes. The first thing he sees is their face, the barely-there roll of their eyes. He leans in close. “How rude. You dismiss your prince’s words?”

“I would never,” they say, but they make sure to roll a strand of hair around their finger and tug just enough to hurt as they ease him to lounge back against the edge of the bathtub once more. “You read too much into things, your highness.”

Hyoma hums at that. Their fingers thread through his locks again, more thorough this time, scratching at his scalp and then pulling down to the ends, occasionally dipping back into the water with a cup to wet it again. His eyes flutter closed at the sensation. If he were a cat as [Name] so often compares him to, he should think he’d be purring.

They retrieve his favorite comb from a shelf behind the tub and continue detangling. It runs through easier and easier with each stroke; long after the final catch of a knot they continue, slow and steady, a soothing rhythm. A part of him—the fanciful, admittedly romantic part of him—likes to think they’re prolonging the experience, that perhaps they enjoy it just as much as he does. The logical part of him says they’d never do something so indecorous.

Still, this is the nicest part of the process. His hair is smooth and silky now, just as he likes it. There’s no yanking. [Name] is always gentle, purposeful, careful not to tug too harshly, but a certain amount is always inevitable, especially after strenuous days such as a hunt.

(For a time, he refused to let any attendants tend to his hair. For many months that included [Name], so guarded and cautious he was even towards them.

It was a particularly taxing day, wherein any motion caused searing pain in his knee, which changed his mind—[Name] had stood faithfully by the bath politely averting their gaze as he sat there, stiff and cradling his knee, before finally stepping forward to kneel and plea, in that unruffled tone, that he allow them to aid him.

He’d acquiesced.)

Now they set down the comb, retrieving in turn a simple hair clip which they use to tie his wet strands up off his neck and away from his face.

When the task is done they shuffle their stool further down the length of the tub—but not before pausing for half a moment to lean in and tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, giving him a rare smile that meets their eyes. Then they turn their attention to his body.

Those hands, he thinks, work miracles. He no better understands why his mother insisted upon an attendant with medicinal knowledge than when [Name] is skillfully massaging the tender parts of him. They’re able to pinpoint which muscles are worse by the way they twitch beneath his skin, or how he moves to compensate. Within minutes, between their expert fingers and the steaming water, the pain dulls to something far more bearable.

They wash him then, meticulous and tender. He feels as if his mind is floating as they move him around and lather him with soap only to wash it off; it’s a hazy, dreamlike feeling and he relishes it.

Far too soon they’re pulling back to help him up and drying him gently, then leading him back to his bedchamber and dressing him in just his underclothes. Already the ache is returning—less than before, but still more than he’d like. He hopes this salve might extend his relief.

They set him down in his chair and retrieve the container, kneeling before him and beginning to apply it. The largest portion goes to his knee; it’s cool to the touch, soothing on that point alone, but it tingles and leaves a numbing sensation as well that sinks quickly through his skin to the muscle beneath. They give a smaller application to the other places, and it truly helps, especially as they rub it in with precise movements like they use in the bath.

Soon enough they’re helping him to his feet again, draping a fresh linen undershirt over his shoulders and fetching a tunic. Careful with his hair, they dress him fully, brushing the fabric smooth and tugging his leggings free of wrinkles.

They kneel before him to lace up his boots. He watches, eyes keen, their own gaze fixed so closely to the task before them that they don’t notice his staring at first, until they look up.

Their eyes meet his, and they widen slightly, perhaps due to the intensity of his staring. He’d like to say he can’t help it, that they’re so mesmerizing when they’re concentrating it draws him in, but the words catch in his throat. Instead he looks away bashfully.

Their hand finds his lame knee, squeezing just barely in silent question.

“‘S fine,” Hyoma attempts to say, but it comes out hoarse. He clears his throat, lifts his head to stare at the ceiling for a moment to catch himself, and then attempts again. “It’s fine. Better.”

“How much better?”

He tests, lifting his leg and bending his knee, swinging it forward and to the side and tensing different muscles. “Not insignificantly. I’m impressed.”

[Name] nods in approval and rises to their feet.

“Where did you get the salve?”

“I made it,” they say breezily. “I’ve been working on it for many months now. Nearly a year, I’d say.”

Nearly a year. He realizes with a mild start that it’s coming up on a year since [Name] had been assigned to him—had they truly been developing such a thing since then? Even in the early months when he’d been cold and dismissive?

“Is there something wrong, your highness?”

“You’re too good to me,” he tells them, and they give him a muted smile.

“Impossible, my prince. I am merely here to serve you to the best of my ability. Now, let me finish your hair. I won’t have you complaining to me all day if it dries poorly.”

Hyoma’s eyes fall to the side again, not entirely accepting of the claim but aware he would never win the argument, and [Name] finally rises to their full height to round the chair. Hand coming forward to find his shoulder, they pull him back and guide him to tilt his head back once again with another hand along his jaw. The touch leaves a gentle warmth, even as it’s disappointingly fleeting; it still has his eyes fluttering closed.

They remove the hair clip and the sopping strands fall limply at his back, immediately dripping water. [Name] pats it dry with a towel just as he’s long instructed them. They meticulously continue until his hair is left more damp than soaked, and then turn to fetch a set of ribbons from his dresser.

“Do you have a color in mind, your highness?” they call to him before the drawer is even opened.

“I trust your judgment for the day,” he replies easily, knowing already which ones they’ll choose. Given the opportunity, they will always gravitate towards the pretty sky blue ones, bright but not garish, gifted to him by an ally: Jyubei, crown prince of a nearby kingdom. [Name] has often mentioned how well the color compliments his hair, and has on more than one occasion praised Prince Jyubei’s eye for such things.

(Hyoma now pushes down the bitter taste in his mouth when they mention it. He might console himself by informing them that Jyubei likely sent a servant to buy them, but he knows better. [Name] is correct, he has a good eye, and would never be the type to allow anyone to purchase pretty adornments for him.

And they’re very correct that the color compliments him well, plus he can hardly be too bitter about the way they smile at him when they catch sight of the pretty blue they chose among his magenta locks.)

Sure enough, they return swiftly with the very silk strips in hand. As with everything, they fold them to set them upon the table next to them. Another comb—one which was once used in the bathroom, but has since fallen to the wear and tear of utilizing such a thing daily—lives upon his dresser. [Name] already has it in hand, though they hardly need it as they run it through his hair easily.

They don’t need to ask him what hairstyle he wants. He long trusts them, full confidence given in their taste, and therefore merely lays back and keeps his eyes closed to rely solely on the sensations.

Their hands are as skilled as can be expected for someone who has been braiding his hair daily for many months on end. They’re careful not to tug too harshly, just as when they’d washed it, plaiting the strands with care and ease. The style chosen is one he often enjoys; they braid one side in rows against his head, leaving the other loose, letting the hair fall to the side in a soft curtain. They tie it off expertly with those ribbons, small enough for detailed use and opulent enough that the bright color only draws attention to their elegance—he raises a hand to run his fingers along their handiwork, admiring the care put into it.

“What would you like from me, [Name]?” he says finally, hand falling slowly from his head.

Their face is still, seemingly impassive. If he didn’t know them as he does he wouldn’t see any emotion—but he does know them, and so he picks up on the tiny furrowing of their brow and minute pout of their lip. They shake their head, and Hyoma rises to his feet quickly, catching their hand—not too tightly, not grabbing, but gentle. They freeze at the contact.

“Anything,” he says, and as their gaze pans up to him he knows they comprehend his meaning. Those eyes crinkle, shoulders falling slack, leaning in towards him and turning their gloved hand to grasp his own.

“I want nothing more than to serve you, my prince,” they tell him, and he wishes he could kiss them.

But that is that.

[Name] stands awaiting their prince’s arrival weeks later, watching him approach from a distance.

They find it a wonder how he can sit so elegantly upon that horse, knowing how much pain he’s in when he rides. They can only hope that their salve helps—and they think it does, from the changes in his expressions. Any improvement, they suppose, is better than nothing.

He only becomes prettier as he draws closer. It isn’t a hunt today; he’d gone into town to retrieve a mysterious item from an artisan. [Name] figures it’s about the antlers. It isn’t their duty to ask.

Prince Hyoma smiles broadly when he catches sight of them. He’s antsy, excited; he holds a small box in his hands and clutches it as he takes [Name]’s offered one to help him down. The stablehands take his horse away. He curls his fingers around [Name]’s and tugs them away to dip into a hidden alcove nearby.

“I asked if you were in need of anything made from antler,” he begins, and hushes them when they shake their head, dashing from their lips yet another assurance that no gifts are necessary. “I hope this is sufficient.”

He opens the box. A comb sits there—a replacement, they realize, for the worn one in his bedroom. And beneath it…

Two hairpins. A matching set, decorated in union; one larger, more elaborate, fit for a prince, and the other more understated. [Name] brings a gloved hand to their mouth in realization.

“One is for you,” their prince states in a low whisper, as if he needed to clarify. “The other for me. I hope this is enough.”

Their eyes jump to meet his, finding the pink watching them keenly for a reaction. The motion they choose is entirely on impulse.

They step closer, hand flying out to pull his own from the box and, at the same time as them bowing slightly, pull it up to their mouth. They press lips to the back of it, tender and lingering, brushing against the soft skin as they speak.

“Thank you, my prince.”

#chigiri x reader #chigiri x you #chigiri x y/n #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #commission #char.🌧 chigiri #mine.🌧#commission.🌧#fic.🌧 to serve

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