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lxkeee · 3 months

Note

I absolutely love your writing!! And don't get me wrong, I love Lucifer, but they way you write Azreal and the Eveningstar family lives in my head 24/7. The AU where reader ends up with Azrael is my absolute fav to come back to, along with the main series it stemmed from. I'd love to see more content of him in general. I've been driving myself crazy imaging a part 2 to the AU with Lucifer wanting to reconnect with reader and having this family unit with them, only to realize that he lost them completely when he fell and that they've moved one and found happiness without him. Very hurt/no comfort for Luci while reader finally experiences a returned unconditional love with Azrael.

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

—ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE

Pairing: Azrael Eveningstar x Seraphim Angel! Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: hurt and no comfort for our short king

Notes: an alternate universe where [y/n]'s family is complete, Xavier doesn't have any daddy issues nor has any hatred for Charlie as he doesn't give any crap about her and Lucifer (well, he did at some point but forgave them), where it was simply the wrong person and wrong time. Where it was Azrael who is endgame. This isn't canon to the fanfic storyline, simply an au.

Additional notes: I LOVE IT WHEN READERS WANT MORE AZRAEL CONTENT OMG

CH. 1 | CH. 4 | NAVIGATION

They finally have done it. Hazbin Hotel is finally booming in business, many sinners are finally checking in and giving redemption a try.

Though, Lucifer cannot help but be nervous. Heaven or specifically, the Seven Virtues requested a meeting with him and his daughter and along with Vaggie, they wanted to talk about the hotel and also about his punishment.

Why wouldn't he be nervous? The last time he was in a meeting with them, they absolutely crushed his hopes and dreams and to add to the fact that his first wife, now ex-wife is part of the organization.

Lucifer doesn't know how to handle it, he's afraid of how he'll act once he sees her and the fact that Charlie told him about his son that he left her with. Absolute guilt.

He misses her, he misses [y/n] so much and he regrets how he treated her. He neglected her, abandoned her and their son. Even after all these years, his heart still longed for her.

“Dad? You okay?” Charlie asked worriedly, holding her bag. Currently, they are waiting for the portal to heaven to open for their meeting tomorrow. She noticed that her dad seems to be in deep thought, she knows what's plaguing his mind—meeting his ex-wife again and seeing his son for the first time. She too is nervous about what will happen when that moment comes.

“The portal seems to be taking a long time to open.” Angel Dust snickered and Vaggie elbowed him on the side, somehow both Alastor, Niffty, and Angel Dust wanted to join them. Leaving the hotel underneath [f/n]'s care, another overlord who joined the hotel.

“You're really complaining when you're not even invited,” Vaggie muttered before turning to look at Alastor, “I am even surprised that even you also decided to join us, how come?” Vaggie deadpans at Alastor and the taller demon just laugh, radio static filling the air, “Myyy~! I am merely curious what the heavenly realms looked like. Nothing more~” He grins, quite mischievously. Vaggie narrowed her eyes at the radio demon.

Lucifer sighs and shakes his head and gives Charlie a small reassuring smile, “I'll be fine, I'm just a little... Nervous.” he admits softly and Charlie nodded in understanding, placing a hand over her father's shoulder. She understands him, she too is nervous in seeing her half brother. Last time she saw him, he was giving her judgmental looks.

“I'm sure we'll be fine... Maybe this will be your chance to reconnect with them?” Charlie suggested, hopeful that somehow the two families can find a neutral area to get along with each other. After all, she always wanted an older sibling or siblings in general. She hopes that she and Xavier can get along.

Lucifer smiled, he too is hoping that this meeting will be fruitful and won't go so horribly.

A golden portal opened in front of them and they looked at each other, nodding as they finally took a step inside.

Heaven, is very bright compared to hell. Too much white, gold, and blues.

The crew looked at Lucifer, urging him to take the lead as he did come from here. Lucifer sighs, despite the nervousness, he decides to approach the pearly white gates of heaven. Standing in front of the counter of Saint Peter. The others are following him.

“Welcome to heaven, can I get your names please?” Saint Peter asked, opening his book. Lucifer sighs, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

“Lucifer... Morningstar...” Lucifer says, almost a whisper. Cringing slightly as he watched the Saint slam his book close, “Oh... Fuck!” Saint Peter exclaimed with a nervous chuckle.

“Um... I wasn't aware that you will be visiting today...” the Saint said with an awkward chuckle, Angel Dust just smirked while Alastor just grins, clearly interested in what heaven has to offer.

Charlie stood nervously beside Lucifer, unsure what to do next.

“Saint Peter, please grant them access. They are here for an important meeting.” a young masculine voice says, surprising the hell citizens. Turning to look at the gate and their eyes widened to see an almost exact replica of Lucifer—except for the eyes and height.

Lucifer's eyes widened and Charlie can be seen to become more nervous as the young man approached their group.

Saint Peter eyes widened, not expecting to see the young general today. “R-right. Please, come in.. heaven officially welcomes you.” Saint Peter says, opening the gates wider for the group.

Lucifer couldn't think, his ears ringing as he looked at the newcomer. Lucifer examined the angel's appearance—an almost exact replica of him and of course, he knows those eyes very well. The same [e/c] eyes his ex-wife has. The angel wearing a white military-ish uniform with gold shoulder pads, elbow length black leather gloves and knee high leather black heeled boots.

Charlie gave his hand a gentle squeeze in assurance, he squeezed it back, grateful for her support.

Alastor grins, not expecting a twist in the scenario.

The young man turned to look at them with a gentle smile, “Greetings, I am Xavier. I am tasked with showing you guys where you will stay for tonight.” Xavier says.

Xavier looked at his obvious half family from hell, before, he had anger for them but because of his mother's influence, he was able to manage his anger on them. But it doesn't mean he'll accept Lucifer and Charlotte his family, he already has his own family in heaven. He doesn't need them.

“Please follow me and keep up.” Xavier says, almost emotionless. It's a habit of his, it might come off as rude or cold to people he just met but he doesn't care. His mother is the angel of kindness, he needs to inherit her kindness instead of his father's pride.

The hell citizens just looked at him with slight nervousness—aside from the smiling one—before eventually following him.

Lucifer just stared at the back of Xavier's head, the golden halo shining brightly against his light blonde hair. He wanted to speak to him but words wouldn't come out of his mouth. He just follows in silence, his demon kind just looking at him in worry—except Alastor, who just gave him a teasing grin.

They followed him, it took a while but they finally arrived at their destination. A large white mansion with black and gold accents, surrounded by fluffy white clouds and trees. Sunflower and tulip fields decorating the front garden. [Y/n]'s favorite flowers.

“This is where you'll be staying so please, come inside.” Xavier says, the gates to the large mansion opening for them.

They admired the scenery, it is completely different from hell. Clean and tidy. Almost blinding to the eye.

They finally arrived inside the large mansion, completely in awe with its exterior and interior designs.

“Don't worry about the palace being too crowded, it's just me and my family living here.” Xavier explained, ushering them to follow him. Walking towards the supposed living room, they weren't able to see the large family portrait on the wall as it was mounted on a wall that they couldn't see.

“I am surprised we're staying somewhere luxurious this time unlike last time. How come?” Charlie asked and Xavier gave her a raised eyebrow before sighing.

“The guest rooms are currently full while waiting for new buildings to be created for the new souls. The seven thought it would be a good idea if one of them houses you guys.” Xavier shrugs before continuing to tour them around. Angel whistling in admiration.

“And this will be your room.” Xavier says as he showed Lucifer his room. The others are already settled in.

“Thank you.” Lucifer says, almost a whisper as he went inside the large luxurious room. Xavier nodded as he stood at the doorway.

“It's nothing, I'll get going now and if you need me, I'll be in the living room.” Xavier says before turning around to leave.

“Wait!”

Lucifer doesn't know what he was thinking, he just acted out on impulse. Xavier stopped, turning around to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“What is it?” Xavier asked, looking down on him. Mom, why is he so small? He thought.

Lucifer gulped, clearly nervous, “Are you... My...?” he couldn't get all the words out as his ears were ringing.

“Son?” Xavier completed, crossing his arms to look at his blood father, “Yes.” he says flatly and Lucifer's breath hitched.

Xavier sighs, already done with this, “Look, I am going to be straight with you dear father of mine.” Xavier says flatly, Lucifer looking at the taller boy in front of him.

“Just because you're my blood father doesn't mean I want you back in my life, whatever you're trying to do. I don't welcome it. I couldn't care less about you or my half sister. Do you understand? So, stop. Don't give me and my family a hard time. You've done enough damage already.” Xavier says coldly, catching Lucifer off guard. The fallen angel's heart shattered at the boy's harshness.

“Excuse me, I still have work to do.” Xavier says as he quickly walked away. Lucifer nodded, almost robotic. He went inside the guestroom and cried.

Lucifer doesn't blame Xavier for acting that way. After all, he's a horrible husband and father to [y/n] and Xavier.

Dinner was oddly awkward, a tension between the three blood relatives. Xavier didn't join them, opting to only have a drink instead.

“Aren't you going to eat?” Charlie asked hesitantly as she sat beside her dad, Xavier didn't bother looking up from his golden holographic screen that came from his wrist watch, his other hand typing into the hair and into the hologram.

“I'll eat later.” Xavier answers nonchalantly, they can clearly see him texting his mom.

M: Don't be too harsh on them sunshine.

X: I'm trying.

D: Well you better try harder, kiddo.

X: 🙄

X: What time will you come home?

D: Late as usual.

M: Indeed, there are still many things to finish but your father and I will make it quick to join you for dinner.

X: Alright, stay safe.

D: Love you, kiddo. Goodluck lol.

M: We will, sunshine. Love you<3

X: love you guys too.

Xavier was grinning slightly as he texted some people, Lucifer assumed it was [y/n] and somebody else he doesn't know of.

Lucifer avoided Xavier after that, clearly heartbroken. Lucifer assumes the D and M profiles meant Mom and Dad and Lucifer assumed that [y/n] remarried and he can clearly see how happy Xavier is talking to them.

To shorten this all up, the meeting went smoothly. The Seven Virtues promised to fund the hotel and also asked for Lucifer's forgiveness for how harsh they treated him. Heaven took back his punishment and he can freely visit heaven anytime. Lucifer was able to find out that Azrael married [y/n] and she's happily married to the man. Though, she doesn't hate him and forgave him but she did make it clear that she doesn't want him back to her life and so did Xavier and Lucifer respected their wishes.

Finally returning back to hell, Lucifer was extremely heartbroken. He lost before he even got to start. But part of him is glad that [y/n] found a better man than him, someone who treats her better than him.

End notes: I got a little lazy at the end lmao.

TAGLIST:

#lxkeee answers #hazbin hotel #lxkeee updates #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne

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zombholic · 7 months

Text

𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏

“who the fuck moves to tennessee dad!” you threw your hands to your head while having a heated argument with your father.

he said something about his business booming if they moved over there, how he’d be making twice as much as his regular income.

but next thing you knew you were unloading boxes upon boxes into your farm house that was beautifully remodeled you can even say. you chose the room with a gorgeous bay window that showed the entire farm from the backyard, you can say this is the whitest thing you dad ever decided.

after a couple of weeks of still getting settled into your new home, the only neighbor you had being at least three miles away. your dad had hired some help with the farm, he was eager to make it into something beautiful, he was having them buy all sorts of crops and farm animals. yeah, you like animals but if a chicken chased you, you are running for you damn life.

“y/n, come here real quick!” you slipped on your fluffy little slides and made your way downstairs to see your dad sitting down with a couple other people, he made them something to snack on in the meanwhile.

“yeah?” you sat on the arm of the coach “these are our farmers, they’re gonna be here for a very long time so introduce yourself now because they’re gonna become family real soon” he chuckled, you got up and shake their hands, your eyes getting caught on the muscular blonde with a long braided ponytail, her blue eyes and freckled face could’ve ended you right there until you noticed her arms.

“uh.. i’m y/n but you guys can call me y/nn if you want” your handshake with the girl lasting a little longer “well of course miss y/n, it’s great to meet you, my names abby!” a strong southern accent slipped from her lips.

—

every time your dad left for work you took the opportunity to blast music from you room, the songs slipped through the little cracks in the wooden house enough for the farmers to hear. you noticed today was a little hotter than other day so you decided to be a good little help and bring them sandwiches you made with something to drink.

walking outside over to the guys you thanked them for their help and handed them the snack, you couldn’t seem to find abby until you heard noise coming from the stables, entering it you swore you could’ve passed out at the sight of her. the sleeves to her button up rolled up to show off her veiny arms, sweat seeping through, strands of her hair sticking to her face. she was loading hay bells on top of each other, she noticed your presence after you staring at her with goo-goo eyes.

“hey ms. y/n, can i help you with anythin’?” she took her gloves off tucking them into her back pocket, wipes the sweat off her face with her arm, breathing heavily from the labor.

“i um made you a sandwich, you guys deserve a break” you gave her a shy smile before handing her the sandwich and cold water bottle “that’s so sweet of you hun, thank you” she took them from your smaller hands, gulping down the water bottle within seconds. “oh um, did you want another one?” you didn’t it was humanly possible to drink water that fast.

“no no, it’s all good miss, thank you s’much” god you couldn’t get enough of that accent of hers, “did you need help? i can help load them” you walked in front of her and tried to pick up one of the hay bells before miserably putting it back on the ground “no, don’t hurt yourself miss, they’re too heavy” it seemed almost like an insult, you can do heavy lifting as well.

“i can help around my farm as well abby, see” you finally lifted the hay, struggling very very badly to put it on the other ones “if you want to help, miss, you can pick those pretty little flowers” she grabbed the hay bell from you and settled it down “i don’t want your pretty little hands getting all rough n calloused like mine” she threw her gloves back on.

“i can do that” you went over to the small garden that growing the prettiest flowers, getting on your knees you slowly started picking the ones that you thought were pretty, you screamed bloody murder when you saw a little snake in between the flowers, jolting up and running away from it before hitting into something hard.

“oh god miss, what? what happened?” she held your arms with a very concerned look “abby there’s, oh fuck” you coughed a little, hiding your face in her chest unintentionally, you had the worst fear of snakes, didn’t matter how big or small they were, they scared you to death “what? miss? wheres what?” she noticed your distress and rubbed her hands on back “there’s a snake in the flowers, ohmygod im gonna pass out.”

abby had you sit down on the bench near the stable, your knees tucked against your knees as you were afraid of anything else showing up, she bent down and easily grabbed the little snake, a laugh erupting from her “you were scared of this little fella?” she looked over at you, you were tense by seeing her holding that thing.

“yes! please put it away somewhere far!” anyone else would’ve said you were overreacting but a phobia is a phobia.

she came back over to you with the softest smile “let’s get you back inside miss, don’t need you gettin’ a heart attack” she halfheartedly joked, agreeing with her you slowly and carefully walked back inside your house, abby following closely behind you like a bodyguard. turning around went you reached your back door you gave her an embarrassed look.

“i must’ve look so stupid to you, city girl comes to the country and screams at the first thing she sees outside” your comment earned a laugh from her “i can’t blame you miss but i grew up in this area so i’ve seen everything you can think of.” you smiled at her, giving her a small thank you before walking inside.

AUTHORS NOTE: ima drag tf outta this series yall!!

#lesbian #lgbtq #wlw #the last of us ii #the last of us #tlou #abby anderson #tlou2 #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson drabble #abby x you #abby x fem!reader #abby tlou #abby anderson x reader #abby the last of us #abby x reader #farmer!abby

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queers-gambit · 7 months

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"Plan To Make A Gift of It To My Lover"

prompt: ten years ago, Lucerys claimed Aemond's eye, and now, a Lannister will claim her debt.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!wife!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.5k+

note: i use 'lover' because it sounds like the original line, 'mother'. also, what the fuck is this, Cherry?

warnings: very much not for minors! deranged characters? blood lust? depiction of grotesque, unhinged behavior. there's cursing, depiction of canon-typical violence and injury, show timeline and spoilers that lead into some VAGUE book references that might produce a slight AU timeline...? character death, obviously Team Green, so, there's some Team Black slander. half edited!

⚠️ season one, episode ten AND book spoilers

PLEASE BE AWARE I AM GOING TO MERGE THIS ONESHOT INTO A SMALL SERIES BUT WILL STILL LEAVE THIS UP

I AM CHANGING LANNISTER READER INTO A VELARYON READER

Rain water beaded against his leather trench overcoat, rolling off him like pellets to leave a scattered trail on the material. His boots splashed in the muddy terrain, dark castle looming tall in the stormy sky, and Mother Nature voiced her displeasure in the form of booming claps of thunder throughout the raging storm.

Long, straight hair turned unruly and crinkled in the torrential downpour; sticking to clothes and clinging to skin. His sword was latched to his weapons belt, bobbing on his hip with every stride he took to approach the Keep of The Stormlands, Storm's End.

"Identify yourself!" A guard shouted through the haze of rain.

You smirked, "Prince Aemond Targaryen, second son of King Viserys Targaryen, the Peaceful, and rider of Vhagar along with his wife, Lady Lannister."

The guards exchanged looks, then the other asked, "What business do you have here?"

"Official business that surely goes beyond your responsibility," you snapped. "We require an audience with your liege lord. Is Lord Borros in? Willing to receive? You'd do well to answer quickly, Vhagar isn't known for her patience - nor is my husband and I."

There was no dispute in leading you into the castle's throne room, members of court lingering in curiosity when they saw the One Eyed Dragon Prince and his Lady Lioness prowl through Storm's End. Lightning struck to flash through the cracks of the eery castle, creating an uneasy atmosphere and making Storm's End feel spookier then it probably was. Aemond smirked when you looked around the semi-empty throne room, the guards instructing you to stay put as their lord was fetched; you looking positively bored.

"You seem to have a natural liking towards our new status, do you not, my lioness?" He mused softly. "The way you commanded the guards to retrieve their Lord for us was very telling of your ease."

"Perhaps. Though I do not like the reason we are here, flexing our status in the first place," you told him with a sharp look. "Surely, there's other alliances to be made, Aemond. Why marry you off to some plain-faced Baratheon bitch?"

"Because war's come for us and we must all sacrifice for the cause," he sighed, staring at you without so much as twitching; letting you approach until standing chest-to-chest. "We require this pact, my love, because we must strengthen Aegon's claim. To use Daeron and I as marriage pawns feels logical given our proximity to the King."

You snarled, "You told me yourself that Aegon did not deserve to be King. Now, we must sacrifice our marriage vows for his claim?"

"I know it is not ideal," he relented, "but it's our current reality."

"Only for now, I sense the tides will turn several times before this is fucking over."

"Hmm."

When Lord Borros finally arrived, he appeared disgruntled by the abrupt arrival of you and your husband, Prince Aemond. He was grouchy, but still welcoming enough; slumped in his chair, eyeing you both, mentioning, "This must be of grave importance to arrive in such a manner, with no warning."

"It is," Aemond answered smoothly, "because war has come to shadow Westeros once more, my Lord."

"Is that so?"

"King Viserys is dead," he informed clearly, "and as such, the natural succession would've passed to the King's named heir, Princess Rhaenyra, but King VIserys had a change of heart. Instead of his daughter, the King wanted his first born son, Aegon II, to ascend the Iron Throne after him."

"And that's to do with me...?"

"The Princess will demand your loyalty, Lord Borros," you stepped in, "to uphold a stale oath your father made decades ago. Come the day, you will be forced to pick sides; yet we simply would like to offer you terms of consideration before hearing Rhaenyra's."

"If the Princess is willing to offer terms, that is," Aemond punctuated.

Borros sat still, then leaned in slightly, "And what are these terms you wish to offer, girl?"

"My Lady-wife has earned the title Princess, my Lord," Aemond corrected sharply, "and will be addressed as such."

Borros nodded stiffly, "Of course, my apologies."

"No matter," you assured. "Tell me, Lord Borros, do you not have unwed daughters?"

"I do, a gaggle of them."

You smirked, "My husband, though not King, is of ancient and rich Valyrian blood. He is happy to uphold customs of his ancestors by taking another wife - so, we offer a marriage pact in exchange for your swords and banners."

"And what of you?"

"What of me?"

"You would just let your husband wed another woman?"

"Who am I to question the will of the Gods?" You mused, figuring you wouldn't tell him how Aemond had already promised never to bed the Baratheon girl. "Should they smile upon this union, so would I. My father, may he rest in peace, before his passing ensured to instill in me a sense of duty and honor, Lord Borros, and with this civil war, we might all do our part to see the end of it."

He hummed, eyeing you both. "All right," Borros half-agreed, "but which of my daughters, hmm? I've four of them - uh," he snapped, "what is this? Someone fetch the girls! Let the Prince see - he may choose to wed whichever he deems acceptable."

"Do we have a deal, Lord Borros?" You asked.

He nodded, "Pending the Princess' terms - my father did swear fealty to Princess Rhaenyra, I would do well to honor that by at least hearing her."

"A noble answer," you accepted.

It wasn't a long wait for his four daughters to arrive, an even shorter wait for Aemond to make a decision. There was Cassandra, Maris, Ellyn, and Flora Baratheon - all ripe for the picking. "Well?" Aemond asked you.

You shrugged, "This is your choice, you're the one who has to bed her." His lips twitched in amusement, eyeing the women stood in a straight line. "Fuck's sake - why not kiss them all and chose that way? Leaves less room for surprise later. Plus what're the odds Rhaenyra's sent her envoy? We should solidify Baratheon's loyalty now."

Aemond chuckled, looking each woman over carefully as a guard entered the room. "My Lord," he called, earning the attention, "another dragon has been spotted and is approaching the Keep."

"What did I fucking say?" You smirked at Aemond.

"Receive whoever it is," Borros permitted. "And you? Have you come to a decision? My girl, Maris, there, would make a clever wife."

"I've one clever enough wife and would be overrun with another," Aemond answered wistfully. "The Lady Flora is acceptable."

"Very well," Borros nodded, "and the terms of dowry?"

You watched as Aemond pulled Flora from the line of sisters, standing to the side as he examined her. He told Lord Baratheon the number of Gold Dragons he thought his daughter was worth, the two haggling lightly over prices before Borros accepted that with the threat of war, his son might become preoccupied, so, the seat of Storm's End would be inherited by Aemond and Flora's children.

Thunder rumbled as a deal was struck.

Boots marched down the stone hall and all conversation ceased to await the newcomer with taunt curiosity. Aemond subtly turned to look at you, ignoring his pretty new intended, as a procession of guards marched into the gloomy room. You boldly stared at the arrival, feeling your heart stall in your chest when you saw it was him... That bastard... The Strong Bastard that mutilated both you and your husband a decade ago.

"Prince Lucerys Velaryon," it was announced, marching coming to an echoing halt. Aemond chose that moment to turn and present himself to the young prince who haunted your every living and dreaming nightmare. He looked startled to see you both there, the guard ending, "Son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen."

Against the thundering storm, Lucerys spoke timidly - as if, any louder and his voice would squeak and crack. "Lord Borros... I brought you a message from my mother... The Queen."

"Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King," Borros shot at the young prince. "Which is it? King or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it." He laughed at his own joke, but when none others joined, he asked Lucerys stoically, "What's your mother's message?"

The Strong Bastard just held up a scroll like the spoilt brat he was, a guard taking it from his fingers to walk it to the Stag Lord since the Prince deemed himself too important to hand deliver the message. Lord Borros sighed when he took up the scroll, looking expectingly to his court, then snapping, "Where's the bloody Maester?"

Lord Borros Baratheon could not read, you see.

So, you all waited as the Maester was retrieved; Lucerys sparing spooked looks at you and Aemond - the latter of whom just smirked in amusement. Luke couldn't truly see the disfigurement he caused, but your scars almost glittered in the flashes of lightning to assure him they were right where he left them. You turned to your husband, whispering in his ear, "Remember all those times when you promised me his eye as a gift? When shall we be presented an opportunity such as now?"

He shushed you with a restrained smirk, wanting so bad to entertain your banter - and daydream about doing to Luke what he did to you two. You told Aemond you didn't need Luke to bear a scar like your own, and that's when he promised to give you the Prince's eye.

The Maester arrived when Luke felt uneasy enough to palm a fist around the hilt of his sword, elderly man hobbling up to Lord Borros, taking the scroll, then reading it.

The Maester bent to summarize the letter to his Lord. You smirked at Aemond when Borros snapped, "'Remind' me of my father's oath? King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact! If I do as your mother bids," he leaned forward on his throne, looking to the side, asking, "which one of my daughters will you wed... Boy?"

"My Lord," Lucerys trembled, "I am not free to marry. I'm already betrothed."

"I did not realize betrothal was weighed heavier than marriage," Borros sneered, indicating to you and Aemond, "which means you come with empty hands. Go home, pup, and tell your mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes."

There was a beat as his words sunk in.

"I shall take your answer to the Queen, my Lord," Lucerys informed, sparing everyone one last look before turning on his heel to vacate.

Yet he couldn't just walk away so easily.

"Wait," Aemond called out loud before you could, the Prince halting, "my Lord Strong." You grinned when Luke turned fully and then stepped forward to the edge of his guarded protection, a look of disbelief adorning his features. "Did you really think that you could just fly about the Realm," he continued, taking a few slow, stalking steps forward with you on his flank and Floris stepping further away, "trying to steal my brother's throne at no cost?"

"I will not fight you," Lucerys declared. "I came as a messenger, not a warrior."

You giggled to mock the boy's sword skill, wanting to hurt the boy's ego as much as possible. Your husband smirked at you before musing, "A fight would be little challenge." He paused to consider his options. "No," he told Lucerys, reaching for his eye patch and pulling the leather from his head. "I want you to put out your eye," He growled, staring at Luke, sapphire winking in the low torchlight; his arm coiling around your waist to keep you at his side. He explained, "As payment for mine. One will serve," and he flipped back his leather overcoat to reveal a dagger, yanking it free to toss across the distance at Lucerys. It clattered and skidded, the sound ominous between the claps and rolling booms of thunder. "I would not blind you," he told the boy. Then, as if concealing a smirk, he finished, "Plan To Make A Gift of It To My Lover."

The ground shook violently when Vhagar landed outside the Driftmark Dragon Pit. The air whooshed your hair back, little feet stumbling back a few paces into the rock wall, hair on the back of your neck standing on end when Aemond dismounted the beast. It wasn't as if you weren't proud or incredibly impressed by his ability to claim the oldest dragon in the known world, but you weren't a Targaryen and dragons made you uneasy.

You could understand animals had minds of their own, and while, yes, Targaryens were closer to Gods than Men because they fly on dragons, you knew they did not control the dragons. They merely domesticated the winged terrors, but you knew the animal could snap at any moment's notice. You didn't like being so close as to become an accidental casualty, so you waited in the mouth of the Pit to give plenty of room between you and Vhagar.

"Well? How was it?"

Aemond beamed at you, "Like nothing I've ever experienced before."

"She's much, much bigger up close," you eyed the dragon watching you both. She was too large in size for the Dragon Pit, but for you, it was a way back into the Driftmark Castle; so, Vhagar was left to her own devices as you and Aemond strode inside.

"You'll have to come flying with me."

"No, no, I like the ground very much. It's safer down here."

"You'll love flying, I can all but promise you."

"If the Gods wanted me in the air, they'd of made me a Targaryen," you teased, both entering the torch-lit passage. "Alas, I am not, so, I think it wise to keep my feet on the ground."

"I'll get you on dragonback with me one day," he smirked. "She's the oldest, you know, and the largest, too."

"I know," you beamed in amusement.

"And she's mine," he whispered, shaking his head and fighting off his grin. You looped your arm with his, giggling your praise over his display of bravery; entering the division foyer of the Pit only to spy Prince Daemon Targaryen's daughters, Baela and Rhaena, with Princess Rhaenyra's sons, Jacerys and Lucerys Velaryon.

"It's them!" One barked.

"It's us," Aemond sneered quickly, understanding confrontation when he felt it. You didn't like this... Something about this exchange felt very wrong; there was four of them, two of you, and you were not their blood relative - so, why be involved at all?

"Vhagar is my mother's dragon!" Rhaena seethed.

"Your mother's dead," Aemond reminded sharply.

You smirked, tacking on, "And Vhagar has a new rider now."

"She was mine to claim!"

"Then you should've claimed her!" You barked in annoyance. "You are not the only dragon-less Targaryen, but you're the one who expects to just be gifted one!"

Aemond sneered right after you, "Maybe your cousins can gift you a pig to ride. It would suit you."

This (rightfully) angered the girls. Rhaena charged and latched onto Aemond but was easily swatted to the ground. At that same moment, her twin, Baela, took the opportunity to jab her knuckle into your nose, sending you into the dirt. "Fuck's sake!" You snapped, Aemond clocking the injury and slamming his fist against Baela's cheek to send her into the dirt, too.

Aemond helped you to your feet as he snarled at the girls, "Come at us again and I'll feed you to my dragon!"

Jace charged, and from there, it was a blur of adrenaline. Before you understood, you were defending yourself from a hurricane of fists and feet; reaching up to grab hold of Rhaena's locs and yank as hard as you could. It gave you a small advantage to get up, see the three others beating on Aemond, and rushed for the fray.

The Prince saw you and pause his resistance to let you grab hold of Baela - also pulling her so hard, a loc or two might've been ripped from her scalp. Aemond kicked Jace, you sent the girls into the dirt, and Aemond managed to catch hold of Lucerys by the throat as he got to his feet. Aemond's hand found purchase on a large rock, standing above them all as you panted from his side; rock raised in threat.

"You will die screaming in flames, just as your father did!" Aemond declared, snarling, "Bastards."

Through his whimpering, Luke sobbed, "My father's still alive!"

For a moment, Aemond appeared disarmed, but then sneered, "He doesn't know, does he? Lord Strong?"

This upset Prince Jacerys enough that he brandished a concealed dagger from his sleeve; holding it at the ready, ignoring his cousin's pleas of his name. "Blade in play," you warned Aemond.

Luke was kicked away, Jace was dodged, disarmed, then shoved to the ground. You were all bruised, bloodied, beaten; thinking that despite twice the numbers, you and Aemond managed to hold your own pretty damn well. The Prince lifted the rock again, this time with his sights set on Jace, ignoring Luke scrambling in the dirt.

Pretty damn well until it was too late.

You screamed in absolute horror when a white hot pain flashed across your face when you meant to turn away from the fight. You went down, Aemond looked over in shock and confusion, and in that moment, Lucerys swung his brother's blade again. It cut through half of Aemond's face, the eye being severed in two; blood gushing between both your hands.

Of course, this was the time the White Cloaks arrived - but it was too late. The damage was done. You sobbed uselessly as the knights tried to help you off the ground, trembling violently as adrenaline wore off. You were instantly escorted to the castle's throne room where the Maester and other attendants met you.

Guards posted.

Blood soaked into cloth.

The Queen arrived with the Hand before anyone else - instantly demanding her son (and you) be attended to at once. She listened to the shaky account of events, but it was difficult to get an accurate picture as you and Aemond were both preoccupied with being medically attended to.

You held Aemond's hand as you were both cleaned up. There was nothing to save, Aemond's eye removed and your face being pinched and stitched. Nearly 200 years from now, one of your descendants will earn nearly the exact same scar during the Battle of the Blackwater; a mark that cut through the face from temple, over the nose, to opposite ear.

You listened to the spoiled brats spin their webs, opting to remain quiet in the presence of the King.

However, after Princess Rhaenyra finally showed up with Prince Daemon, after Lord Corlys Velaryon and Lady Rhaenys Targaryen arrived, attention shifted.

" - Didn't just mutilate our son, but the Lady Lannister as well!" Alicent raged.

King Viserys eyed you as if seeing you for the first time, slowly approaching. "My Lady," he spoke softly, "you have not yet said a word this evening."

"It is not my place, Your Grace."

"It is now," he permitted. "Speak, and tell me the truth of it. What happened tonight?"

You swallowed nervously, "The Prince Aemond claimed his dragon, Vhagar, Your Grace, and upon returning, the... Uh, well, the Princes Jacerys and Lucerys along with their cousins, Ladies Rhaena and Baela, were waiting for us."

"Waiting?" Viserys repeated.

"Yes, Your Grace, I believe they wanted to see who had claimed Vhagar," you offered.

"Who hit who first?"

With a sigh, you answered, "Lady Baela hit Prince Aemond first. A solid hook, for whatever it's worth."

Alicent now approached, squatting in front of you and asking, "How did you sustain such injury, Lady Lannister? Come... Speak the truth. Tell us the meaning of this."

"Prince Jacerys brought the blade, Your Grace," you mumbled, "but it was lost in the scuffle. It was Prince Lucerys who offered injury to both Prince Aemond and I."

You could've cried when Rhaenyra, as usual, managed to somehow spin your story into making her sons the victims. Despite being told the four ambushed you two, they weren't even reprimanded because their parents were all so angry that it truly distracted from the present situation at hand. In the end, Queen Alicent snapped and charged to attack, but the Princess Rhaenyra intercepted her before damage could be done.

The blade Alicent stole from her husband's belt was dropped - but not before the tip sliced into the flesh of the Princess' forearm. You were fuming, watching them all leave; you had been seriously maimed, and so far, you had been the one spoken to as if a criminal. Rhaenyra would need stitches, sure, and a broken nose was the worst of their injuries - but Aemond lost his eye, and you?

You felt as if you lost your life because who the hell would want you now? With this scar? This big, fat, noticeable scar that split your face? Sure, your Lannister name would get you places - but not everywhere. Considering your young age, this only left time for rumors to fester and for everyone to notice your injury; being no escape and no where to hide from ridicule.

For years, you would consider yourself damaged. For years, you would mourn yourself. For years, you would sharpen your mind, wit, and intelligence because if you couldn't bring standard "beauty" to the table, you wanted to be able to offer something redeeming.

For years, you would undergo emotional turmoil before your engagement to Aemond is announced; convincing yourself you did not deserve love because your anger made you likened to a shrew. You felt ugly on the outside, ugly on the inside; a product of your environment and experiences. When the promise of marrying your best mate was bestowed, the entire court was shocked by the 180 you both did; where once stony and stoic, both were now soft and kind - but only to one another.

To everyone else, you were both still stony and indifferent. But to each other? You and Aemond would move mountains.

Yet that night on Driftmark would haunt for you for the rest of your lives; no matter the promise of love, marriage, and a 'normal' life. Late nights would be held together, fantasizing about your revenge; considering the future in which you made Lucerys Strong pay for what he did to you.

"Plan To Make A Gift of It To My Lover."

"No," Lucerys barked, looking distraught by the sheer idea of what Aemond demanded. His answer made the amusement drain from Aemond's features, this was a man not often told no. His hand passed you his eye patch for safe keeping; the raging storm outside portraying the tension brewing in the throne room of Storm's End.

"Then you are craven as well as a traitor."

"Not here!" Borros understood fighting words when he heard them - not wanting the repercussions of a dead or injured Prince Lucerys, because, let's face it, Luke couldn't do damage to Aemond even if he tried.

Aemond literally sprang into action, releasing his grip on you, shouting as he strode forward. "Give me your eye," he stooped to snatch his dagger from the ground, "or I will take it, bastard!"

Lucerys brandished his sword for protection, but Borros launched out of his seat to intervene by shouting, "Not in my hall!" This made Aemond skid to a halt. "The boy came an an envoy. I'll not have bloodshed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon... Now."

You smirked when Aemond just watched the boy flee the hall, hand flipping his dagger expertly before sheathing it. You met his gaze, holding prolonged eye contact to publicly show you were not afraid of him, his looks, his lack of eye, or adoration for him.

"Well, Lord Borros," you mused, turning to the Stag Lord, "looks as if you've chosen in this war."

He huffed, "We can discuss specifics later."

Aemond nodded, "We'll be off."

"Do not - "

"You said no blood shed under your roof," you reminded, "not above."

"The Prince is young and small - "

"We gave him a fair head start." Borros looked ready to rebuttal, but you snapped, "We're at war, my Lord. Either you let the dragons fight in the skies or it'll be your men fighting in the trenches. The choice is yours."

"See that? His woman bites harder than he," Maria scoffed to her sisters, only juuuuust loud enough for her voice to carry across the room. Then she snarled at your husband, "Tell me, Prince Aemond, was it just your eye Prince Lucerys took, or one of your balls, too? You threw a dagger at him and stopped when Daddy said stop," her eyes rolled, "those are not qualities of a man."

You were ready to attack. In fact, you started striding up to Maris when Aemond intercepted you swiftly with a suffocatingly strong grip. "We've more important matters," he reminded you, turning, and promising to send word to Lord Borros before disappearing out of the side door.

"How dare she," you seethed on your way to Vhagar. "That buck-tooth looking rodent dares insult you? Her own Prince? In front of others - oh, the nerve of that family!"

"Bigger picture at work here, love," Aemond mused as he fixed his patch back on, never one to address the things that were bothering him - like when someone hurt his feelings or bullied him over his missing eye.

But you were always ready to bite those that offered insult. You were a Lion in a golden cage, after all.

You grumbled the entire time, reaching Vhagar, launching as discreetly as she possibly could to scan the skies. It wasn't easy to find the Prince because his dragon blended into the storm so perfectly, but once the tiny beast was located, you were locked on. You rode behind Aemond in his saddle, both being harnessed to prevent any unseating; the combined weight never phasing his ol' girl. Vhagar understood they were in some kind of chase, and when she gave a grumble that rumbled over the thunder you flew through, Aemond gave her a command in High Valyrian to quiet herself.

You could see glimpses of Luke turning to search areas you had just vacated; loving this game of cat and mouse. You hoped the anticipation and anxiety of being watched was upsetting the Prince - just so he had a little bit of emotional trauma from this, you know? Just so he had a little taste of the emotional turmoil you had to suffer the past decade.

"Ready?" Aemond asked you.

You squeezed his waist before boldly reaching down to palm his cock through his breeches, hissing in his ear, "Do it, you owe me a gift."

Aemond grinned and directed Vhagar to circle around and fly forward until almost colliding with Lucerys - should he not've steered Arrax lower at the last moment. The close call was enough to make you both laugh, the sound traveling over the noisy nature. Aemond turned Vhagar again, trying to snatch at Arrax with her talons while your husband hurled insults and taunting phrases as his nephew.

With a small groan, you reached for a separate piece of the saddle to hold onto while Aemond drove Vhagar into a nosedive after the smaller dragon. When they came up to a cavern of sea rocks, Aemond was forced to pull Vhagar back before she could crash - but Arrax had no issue navigating into and through the canyon. You were forced to fly above it, searching for your prey once more.

Lucerys seemed to evade you for a time.

"What happens when we find him?"

"I will have the bastard's eye," he reminded you.

"Yes, but what if he resists?"

"Of course he will."

"So you mean to kill him? Is that the plan, Aemond?"

He did not answer you, looking over Vhagar's sides for his prey. He shouted in High Valyrian, "You owe a debt! Boy!"

Suddenly, from your left, Arrax descended upon Vhagar with a vicious spewing of fire that licked your flesh hatefully. Aemond flinched back into your chest, trying to shield yourselves from the heat of the flames, but it was too late. You cried out, whimpering with discomfort when the flames died; marring and mangling your skin. Prince Lucerys was heard scolding his dragon, and for a moment, you felt as if you could see the future because there was no way Vhagar was going to let that kind of disrespect occur and do nothing about it.

The ol' girl gave a rumble before bellowing after Arrax. She turned herself to where the other dragon had disappeared and started to push off as her owner begged and pleaded with her not to. "Serve me, Vhagar, no!" He commanded, desperate to keep his beast under control, but being evident these two wild animals were in an altercation all their own and meant to follow their instinct.

"We want his head still, Vhagar!" You laughed loudly, Aemond growling with a smirk.

"Do not encourage her!"

"Do not try to domesticate a 180-year-old dragon!" You gave a small whoop of excitement. "She's a Dragon of War, Aemond! Violence is what she knows!"

He grunted as he struggled with the reins. However, Vhagar ignored him and made her own turn, pumping her wings twice and then breaking into the morning sun above the storm. For a fleeting moment, it was incredibly gorgeous to be so high in the sky...

And then it was over before anyone could stop it.

Vhagar opened her mouth and gave one chomp around the body of boy and dragon. There was a shrill cry of fear before Vhagar's moan of content, then eery silence settled as half-consumed bits fell to the ground beneath.

"Well," you cleared your throat, staring at the bloody bits falling, "if it wasn't enough that Aegon took her crown, surely, the two of us taking her son will be the push Rhaenyra needs to meet us in conflict."

"No," he cleared his throat, "you were not here - "

"I was, I would not allow you to bear this burden on your own. To take the blame," you met his eye. "I encouraged this just as much, and Rhaenyra will know it was us - she'd never believe I was not involved."

"Can you not be logical right now?" He trembled, leaning his forehead to yours.

"Okay..." You whispered, "Well, could we go see if there's anything left?"

"That's morbid, my love."

"What? You're the one who promised me his eye. I know you didn't mean for this, but the truth is," you smirked, "you did. You knew what pursuing him would result in - your dragon doesn't understand your need for revenge, she understands eat or be eaten."

Aemond sighed, "Too soon for that phrase."

"Noted. Now, c'mon," you encouraged, giving his waist a squeeze. "I know you're curious to see what's left, too."

And he was, so Aemond directed Vhagar back down. It was difficult to predict where the body parts could've ended up, but seemingly, luck was on your side and you descended to the shore. There was a small scattering of remains, bits being washed up or away with every new lap of sea water.

You dismounted and started searching through the remnants, storm still outlandishly raging around you. "Love?" Aemond spoke from behind you, making you jump slightly. He smirked, "Got something for you, my Lioness."

"You do not..." He held up the messily decapitated head of Lucerys "Velaryon", your laugh surprising and genuine. "Oh, we're sooo going to Seven Hells," you sighed, shrugging, "but you know, it doesn't really get worse than what we've already done, so," you motioned for him to set the head down.

"Here," he agreed, using his dagger to harvest Lucerys' eyeballs from the skull you helped hold. When he was done, you chucked the head away before Aemond's bloody hands set both eyes in your cupped, outstretched palms; watching you weigh them.

"You know, Lannisters always pay their debts," you mused, smirk pulling at your lips, "but we also are always repaid our debts. How strange, to hold his eyes and think they were once functioning... In his head, of use, probably full of tears when Vhagar chased him in the sky."

"Hm," Aemond considered, then pointed to your hand. "It's with his eyes, I promise you, my Lioness, the fall of our enemies." He proclaimed, then musing, "Should we give Maris Baratheon one to prove ourselves?"

You smirked, "She said you must've lost your balls, right?"

"Almost positive Vhagar ate Lucerys' so we cannot present her with them."

"Damnit," you pouted. "All right, fine, sure, we might show the Baratheon's we mean war... But I'd like to keep them both, please."

"What are you going to do with them?"

"Put them in a jar and keep until I'm no longer angry about what he did to us..."

"So, his eyes are going on our mantle?"

"You bet your sweet balls," you grinned, twirling Lucerys Velaryon's Strong's organs in your hand like a pair of game dice.

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Text

Hidden In The Shadows

Part 2 Here

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Following a lesson about this town that seemed to suddenly vanish, Y/N is intrigued to figure out what truly happened. However she might’ve bitten off more than she can chew….

Warnings⚠️: Nothing crazy, talks of/explanations of a cult, creepy rural town. This was from a Drabble about matt based on a type of horror movie he’d be done by @gamermattsgf she’s wifey and I had to adapt this into an imagine😫 @st7rnioiossblog

Song for imagine: Oblivion- Grimes

I never walk about after dark

It’s my point of view

Cause someone could break your neck

Coming up behind you

Always coming and you’d never have a clue

Moving out of my hometown wasn’t on my bingo cards for this year and moving out of my hometown for a research project was 1000 percent not on my bingo cards. Yet somehow I was packed up and on the road within three months of starting my project.

I’ve always had a weird niche for all things history, but especially history that just seems to vanish into thin air. I began to become extremely interested in towns that are no longer on the map due to poverty, weather change or even these people becoming hunters and gathers. Packing up and moving out in an instant. It all started in my senior year of college. I was studying geography at my local four year college in my hometown of Nevada.

Honestly I hated college all the long hours, all the homework and also having a full time job on top of that, but I had a full ride so I decided to suck it up. My very last year I had some space for a filler class that got me extra credits so I landed on the study of United States Lands focusing on increase and decrease of population throughout the recent centuries.

Personally I thought the class was going to suck, but to my surprise my professor was amazing. Towards the end of my final semester we began to learn about Pleasant Town Oklahoma. A once booming town immediately vanished off the face of the earth.

“Now class you may be asking yourself why was this town so rich? And I’m here to tell you it’s because the mayor at the time in the year 1915 had connections with our president. They hid money, fabrics, food and all types of expensive items within this small town” Mr Wayne stated

“I mean with hiding all this stuff how did they become so wealthy?” One guy had asked, my eyes darting to him

“They were being paid off for hiding these things, however the money was dirty money, so they created many businesses to get the cash flow moving. From one store to one man’s pocket to the next and then next thing you know that dirty money is in George's hand who lives in Virginia! It was all an amazing scheme, very smart. But as you can see it didn’t last long nor did it end well” He had stated as he clicked the laptop to show the next slide shown on the board

“Within three years of this operation this small town alone was bringing in about $100,000 a month which is over $2 million dollars in today's money. So then you ask yourself how does such a rich state with so much money just disappear? And all the money too?” He states scratching his chin

“So Professor Wayne….what exactly happened to them?” I asked after raising my hand

“No one really knows” he states uncrossing his arms and leaning off the desk

“I mean there has to be a reason right? That’s a lot of money to just disappear” I state as I jot down notes

“Well here’s the other thing, there are many rumors dating back to the creation of Oklahoma which was 1907. Sources have stated that Pleasant Town is evil and I’m talking demonic evil. People have said the reason the cash flow never stopped was because they were all a cult and seemingly used one another as sacrifice.” He stated clearing his throat

“Sacrifice?” I questioned raising my eyebrow

“Well yes! In many cultures it is stated if you do a blood sacrifice for the devil and/or sell your soul then your wishes shall come true. Their wishes were to stay wealthy. This came with problems however” he says as he sits down at his desk

The whole class was on the edge of their seats waiting for him to go on.

“Many of these men had short arms and deep pockets. Making it very easy for one man to kill the next out of greed” Wayne goes on

“And didn’t they get caught? I mean the president wouldn’t allow that” one classmate states

“Very true! The town was very small, only about 80 people now if 10 people suddenly die many eyebrows are raised. For a while they covered up the stories claiming a sickness like smallpox. The mayor decided to bring animals claiming this would make them richer since they produce meat, eggs and milk. Now he wasn’t wrong, but the animals were used in these blood sacrifices to hide their tracks” he says nodding his head

“God these people were ahead of their time” I blurt out and crossed my arms over their chest

“Oh they were, but that might’ve costed them their fortunes and their town” Professor Wayne states

“So that’s it? They just left? And what now?” I asked him

“It’s stated that they just separated, leaving most of the money to the whole state of Oklahoma. Afraid the president was after them or maybe they danced with the devil for too long and ended up paying the price” he states bluntly

“And the price is?” I asked him

“Death” he says frowning a bit which caused a chill to run up my spine

“But this is all speculation. About 30 years later Pleasant Town was rebuilt and supposedly none of that cult stuff was brought to that town. And till this day it’s still up and running. I believe the population is only about 200-250 people max?” He says rubbing his chin in thought

“I mean that’s just sad… we’ll never know the truth” I said to him shutting my notebook

“I mean you could always go and visit, spend the summer there. See what it’s like……anybody up for a challenge” he says laughing as the class shudders in fear and averts their eyes to the floor

I mean I was super interested in this lost town with such a dark history that suddenly reappeared 30 years after weird cult shit was happening. I could always take the summer off from work since I graduate in May….. take a road trip to Pleasant Town Oklahoma. Find the real history and report back to Professor Wayne.

My thoughts were interrupted when the bell rang and he bid his goodbyes to the class. Everyone was quick on their feet out of the door, but I stood back very interested in talking to him.

I trotted over to his desk as he shut his laptop, stuffing it into his book bag. His eyes darting up once he felt my presence

“Ahh Ms. Y/L/N…. You seemed very intrigued with today's lesson, planning a weekend getaway?” He asked me playfully

“Funny that you mention it because I was thinking more of a whole summer get away” I stated

“A whole summer?” He says brows lifting immediately

“I’m really interested in this town. I mean a mayor in on cult rituals to bring tons of cash in and the president not having a clue? And then they just vanished? This is like a movie sir” I state as I ramble on

“I mean it’s all just speculations Y/N” he says smiling at me

“I know sir, but is there any way I can get your research on this town so I can study it a bit more? I plan on building a whole case for this and figuring it out” I pleaded

“You’re really interested in this aren’t you?” He asks opening his bag up

“I really am Professor Wayne” I say back

“Here, but listen this is a tight knit community. Don’t go digging your nose where it doesn’t belong. Tread lightly this isn’t your turf, okay? In a town like that with such a small population and a dark history, you don’t want any enemies” he says handing me the folder titled “Pleasant Town”

“Yes, and thank you sir” I stated nodding my head

After that I finished my final semester two months later in May. Between work and classes I built up more of a file on this town jumping from a folder to two binders stacked with information.

Two days after my graduation I did some research on the town. This place had no hotels, no motels and for sure no air bnbs. That’s where I ran into my first problem, attempting to find a place to stay.

Searching on Zillow I had found a house for rent. In the middle of nowhere. One gravel road and corn fields. From the pictures it did seem there were few houses across and next to it, so I figured that was perfect. I'd make friends with neighbors.

I mean the house was decent for the area. Seemed to be a two bedroom two bathroom house. The bedrooms upstairs, one bathroom down stairs and one upstairs. Had a pretty average sized kitchen in the back of the house, a dining room to the right of the front door, a living room to the left of the front door, the stairs faced the front door, and then there were small hallways that lead to the kitchen. And there was a basement that seemed small, well kept and empty. It sucks to say I actually liked the place

My second problem began when I called the realtor a very old southern man by the name of Beaufort Smithson. I dialed him that morning and from the moment he heard my accent he seemed to turn a cold shoulder.

“Please sir” I pleaded with him

“Listen ma’am you sound young and not from these parts. What bring someone like you around this small town” he states deeply

“Well I’m from Nevada and it’s just so crazy here and I’ve been looking to stay somewhere a few states away that’s quiet and small” I state

“But you’re looking to rent from June 1st to August 31st…. We do 7 month rentals” he says bluntly

“Well I want to see it I like it first” I say lying through my teeth

“Can’t you see from the pictures if you like it or not” he says sucking on his tobacco tucked in his lip

“I can have the full rent for those three months ready for you in cash” I state desperately

“In cash you say” he says as I hear his chair squeak from underneath him

God these people really were money hungry till this day…

“Yes sir $800 a month for 3 months I can get you that $2,400 in cash June 1st” I state

“Well little lady you have yourself a deal. Now get yourself a pen and paper and jot this down. June 1st 12 in the afternoon we’re going to meet at the gas station in Pleasant Town” he states spitting his tobacco into a styrofoam cup

“Uhhh what gas station is that sir?” I ask as the pen dangled in my hand

“Sweetie we only got one gas station down yonder….you can’t miss it” he says chuckling

“Right…. Well thank you Mr. Smithson, my names Y/N Y/L/N, and I’ll be seeing you on June 1st” I state

“Well alright darling see you then” he says chuckling

“Oh by the way I look like-“ but I was cut off

“Oh trust me I’ll know what you look like…..safe travels” he whispers before hanging the phone up on me

That phone call made me slightly regret my choices of spending my summer with some shit kickers than on the Las Vegas strip…..

I spent the last two and a half weeks packing, purchasing what I know I won’t find in Oklahoma and doing more research.

I think I was on page 4,000 on google before I found a new article with information I hadn’t seen before. I placed my plate of pizza down as my eyes scanned the laptop screen quickly.

It was a newspaper clipping dating back to the year 1953. Only 70 years ago…. Interesting. The title stated “Farm owner questioned in the massive slaying of all his animals” my brows furrowed.

There’s no possible way that 70 years ago these cult killings continued? But my fingers scrolled down further as I began to whisper

“Confused and angry farm owner, Thomas Sturniolo was seen today yelling at cops as he was taken out of his small Pleasant Town home. After all his farm animals died and weird things happened around town he was suspected of killing his animals in a weird cult-like way. Demanding he be let loose, and that the town was crazy and out to get him because he is the wealthiest farmer. Insisting his competition killed his livestock and not him.”

My eyes couldn’t believe what I was reading…this was pretty recent honestly. This was happening around the time my grandparents were young children… I printed those news clippings out along with many other clippings of his arrest, his release and his disappearance…..

Adding them to my binder as I finished my pizza. This was so insane to me, and this would make a great conversation with professor Wayne after my studies.

I opened up my email and decided to email my professor.

Hello Professor Wayne! I hope your summer treats you well. In about three days I am off to study the lost town of Pleasant Town Oklahoma. That folder of information you gave me has grown into two large binders, and I found more information today. Down below you’ll find links to news articles dating back to the 50’s about weird cult animal killings! I think you’d find it fascinating! I’d like to update you here and there through my three month stay, and then maybe when I get back we can discuss all my findings over lunch! Thank you for your time! Hope to talk to you soon. -Sincerely, Y/N Y/L/N

Two days later I was all packed up into my car. About four large luggage and two duffel bags…. I was well prepared to say the least. Saying bye to my family and friends I began my venture to Pleasant Town.

My venture was a full day, and I made sure I counted for gas breaks, nap breaks and food breaks to make sure I got to Mr. Smithson at 12 on the dot.

June 1st 11:25 am- 35 min ETA Pleasant Town Gas Station

I was coming across the entrance to the town. I was jamming out to SZA, bobbing my head I looked over to my right smiling as I read the sign

“Welcome to Helltown….once you get in you’ll never get out!” It read

My smiled dropped, I snatched my sunglasses off my face and turned the radio down….. a cold sweat began to form on my back as I looked in the rear view mirror

What the fuck was that? I was becoming increasingly anxious and wondered if I just made the worst mistake of my life. I rubbed my lips together in anxiety as I gripped onto the steering wheel harder.

I chose to shake it off, there has to be a logical explanation for this I thought to myself. Putting my sunglasses back on, I turned my music up a little bit and continued down the silent road.

My map told me 1 minute, and slowly I pulled up to a very old and very dusty gas station. Coming to a stop as the gravel left a smoke trail ahead of my car.

I put the car in park and hopped out, stretching my back and cracking my neck. Suddenly an old man hopped out of his large red truck. Spitting tobacco on the ground as he waddled over

“You, young lady must be Y/N?” He asks as he sucks the tobacco

“Yes sir I am” I state as I smile and place my hand out to shake his

Looking down as he smacks his lips, he firmly shakes my hands.

“Good to met ya, welcome to Pleasant Town” he states coughing

“Thank you Mr. Smithson” I state smiling once again

“Well uhh” he states smiling at me

“Oh right” I say, eyes going wide as I walk over to the passenger side. Grabbing the envelope with all the money in it.

“Here you go, $2,400 cash” I state handing the envelope over to him

He grabs the envelope and takes the money out, beginning to count it

“300,400,500-“ he says flying through the money

“Uhh what’s with the welcome sign saying welcome to Helltown? Once you get in you’ll never get out?” I ask pointing over my shoulder

He immediately stops counting, sucks his teeth and looks up at me through his lashes

“Idiot teenagers who have nothing better to do than destroy property that isn’t theirs” he states as he goes back to counting

“Oh…” I state rocking back and forth on my heels

“Alright it’s all here! Thank you sweetheart. I’ll drive you to your house just follow behind me” he states stuffing the money back in the envelope

“Thank you sir” I state as he turns and walks back to his truck

I hop in mine and wait for him to go, following closely behind him I take in the surroundings. Trees, dirty roads, corn fields, farm houses, large stacks of hay and pretty decent sized homes. They were just super outdated.

It was only about a 15 minute drive, but man it felt like forever. I’d hate to get stuck with no gas on a road like this.

Pulling up to the house he pulls onto the gravel driveway as I do too. We both hop out and we walk towards the house. We walk up the steps and wait on the front porch as he digs around for the keys.

Looking around I take in the surroundings, there’s quite a bit of farms around here…. My thoughts are interrupted when he finds the keys and opens the door. Allowing me to walk in first

“I had my crew clean up the place for you” he states shutting the door

“Oh, do you own a cleaning company?” I ask looking at him

“No.. I get these young boys out here to do what needs to be done around these parts” he states bluntly

“Oh the young teenagers who mess around” I say laughing

“No, I send those boys to work the corn fields…. The older men do the hard work round here. The cleaning, the lifting, the shootin” he says sucking the tobacco

“Shooting?” I ask as I turn to face him

“Yup they shoot the ones for my man down under” he states looking me dead in my eyes

“What?” I ask as I began to get nervous

“Oh I’m sorry sweetheart I must be confusing you, you see my dad loved to hunt but he’s too old now and lives in my basement. He has me send out the young men to shoot for him and bring him back some animals” he states chuckling

“Ohhhh yeah” I say laughing awkwardly

“Well young lady this is your home now” he says handing me the keys.

“Thank you” I say meekly

“You got your dining room, living room, and kitchen all down here fully furnished as you can see. Bathroom down here one upstairs and both bedrooms upstairs. Oh uhh I’d suggest food shopping early in the day, you don’t want to be out late at night around here….that is due to the wild animals of course like bears and coyotes” he states looking at me

“Of course” I say nodding politely

“Make sure you lock your doors at night. Especially the back door….. animals in the kitchen are never a good thing” he says turning around to head to the front door

“Got it” I state

“And uhhh we’re a family here….youre house is my home….or whatever the saying is….my house is your house….ah you know what I mean” he says shaking his head

We bid our goodbye and I watched him drive off. My hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. This whole conversation was making me nervous and uneasy. One other thing I realized was I’d be having no WiFi here. However my phone had 5G and the service wasn’t awful here shockingly….. I immediately sent an email back to Professor Wayne

“Just got here! The house is actually super nice. It's very historical and artsy. The realtor is a total creep though. His name is Beaufort so that explains a lot! He said some weird things and made weird analogies. Making it seem like beyond the naked eye there’s more to this town…. I’ll keep you posted”

I hit send and slid my phone back into my pocket. I placed the keys in my front pocket and walked outside. The warm sun kissed my skin as I squinted. Walking over to my car I popped the trunk and began to take my luggage’s out.

Suddenly I felt like there were eyes on me. The way the area got super quiet. So quiet you could hear a pin drop. I looked over my shoulder in the least scared way possible. There was nobody there. I rubbed my forehead and let out a breath.

“Y/N relax” I whispered to myself as I took my last luggage out

However unbeknownst to Y/N, she was in fact being watched. A young man on the second floor of his parents house. He stood in his room peering at the young woman through his sheer curtains.

His gaze was dull as he stared out the window, sweat trickled down his forehead, his mouth hung open slightly and his breathing became deep. His fingers swirled and tugged at his red flannel.

She was like out of a movie. He had never seen a woman like that down here. Those are the ones his mom warned him about. The type who didn’t like boys like him, the type he should….hate. However when he looked at her he couldn’t hate her….she seemed precious….precious just like his horse Bertha.

“Young Man! What did I tell you about standing at that window” he heard from behind him, he jilted and turned around

“I’m sorry mama…I wasn’t doin nuffin” he states as he looks at her

“It is not polite to stare at people you aren’t a child anymore. You don’t do that” she says to him

“I wasn’t looking I swear” he says with pleading eyes

“Well you go on now. Your father and I are leaving for the afternoon” she says to the boy

After his mom leaves he pears out his window again. The young woman had stopped to talk on the phone. He was so fascinated by her he simply couldn’t look away.

I hung up the phone after saying bye to my mom and pulled out my second luggage. Rolling it into my house and coming back out to get my third luggage. I huffed out a breath of air and wiped the sweat off my forehead

I leaned over to get the third luggage but it was stuck on something. I sucked my teeth and began to tug on the handle harder.

“Need a hand ma’am?” I heard from behind me

“OH SHIT” I yelled turning around and grabbing my heart

“Oh im sorry darling I didn’t mean to scare you” the young man states backing up a bit

“No it’s okay, I’m new to town so I’m a bit jumpy” I state shaking my head

“My apologies for sneaking up behind you, may I help you?” He asks looking at my trunk

“Yeah please that would be great” I say smiling as I tried to control my breathing

The young man grabs both of my luggages for me and I grab my duffel bags. We walk to the house and he leads the way to my other two luggage’s.

“Thank you so much” I say placing my bags on the couch

“My pleasure sweetheart” he says nodding his head

“I’m Y/N” I say sticking my hand out

“I’m Matthew, but I go by Matt” he says wiping his forehead with the inside of his shirt. The shirt lifted just enough for me to get a perfect view of his lower stomach.

Damn…why were the shit kickers in a creepy town always so hot…. I guess the movies aren’t wrong..

“Well Matt thank you once again, can I offer you some water?” I ask him

“Water would be nice” he says smiling a bright smile

We walked to the kitchen and I found some old glasses left behind. I rinsed it with water and then gave him some water from the sink.

He drank the full cup, allowing the water to dribble down his chin and to his neck. My gaze ever so slightly following the head of water.

“So, what brings you to this part of town darling?” He asks, his accent so thick I couldn’t even focus

“I come from a busy town and I’ve always wanted to move to a small rural area. Pleasant Town seemed just right” I state licking my lips

“Once you see what this towns like you’ll go running for the hills” he says smirking darkly

“What do you mean by that?” I asked clearing my throat

“Well we hunt, we drink beer til we’re piss drunk and race in old cars for fun, we sneak into farms at night and tip over the sleeping cows…. Amongst many other things” he states handing the glass back over to me

“Oh that’s nothing compared to where I’m from” I say placing the glass in the sink

“And that is?” He asks crossing his legs as he leaned against the wall

“Las Vegas Nevada” I state nodding

“Never been” he states

“You should visit one day” I say

“If I ever leave this town” he states swallowing thickly

“If you ever leave?” I question once again

“Well you know this place is home I don’t know how I’d do in a big place like that” he says smiling at me

“I suppose you guys are pretty far behind on a lot” I say giggling

“Oh trust me aren’t we all” he says kicking himself off the wall

“Well uh thank you so much Matt I don’t mean to keep you” I say to him as I begin to walk out the kitchen

“Oh no worries darlin” he says as he follows behind me his thick cowboy boots hitting the wood in all the right places

He opened my front door and began to head out

“I’ll see you around neighbor” I state to him

“See you around, oh and if you ever feel like there’s eyes on you….that's because there is….you know small town haha we can’t escape each other” he says coldly before adding a laugh at the end

“Right…right” I state smiling at him and blinking quickly

I watch him walk across the street and head into the home. I lock my car doors and shut my front door. Locking the door before walking to the kitchen back door, locking that one as well.

I spent the rest of the day sweeping up, cleaning and setting up my room. I hadn’t realized how late it gotten or how hungry I was till my stomach growling woke me up from a small Power Nap.

I got up and realized it was 8pm, I wasn’t sure what food stores would be open, but it was worth the try. Ignoring the warning not to go out at night I grabbed my house keys and car keys.

Locking the front door, I got into my car. Turning it on I put it in reverse. I looked over my right shoulder and when I went to look over my left Matt was there and had banged on my window.

I jumped out of my skin and hit the breaks. Rolling my window down I was breathing heavy

“Sorry sweetie” he says as he looks down at me

“Is there something I can do for you?” I asked him genuinely curious

“Oh me? No no, but you, you shouldn’t be out at this hour” he states

“It’s 8pm though?” I say furrowing my brows

“Yeah well the bears and coyotes come out this time” he says tapping the hood of my car

“I’m just running to the local store” I say

“You shouldn’t be out at this hour” he says again a bit firmer

“Umm okay” I say to him, remember what Professor Wayne said “no enemies this isn’t my turf”

I placed the car back in park and got out. Shutting the door and locking it I looked at Matt, a shot gun in his right hand as my eyes darted up.

“Don’t worry darling this ain’t nothing special. I use this to hunt” he says to me as he moves the gun back a bit

“For uhh Mr. Smithson’s dad?” I ask as my eyes slowly track up to his

“Oh no I do a different type of hunting for him” he says clearing his throat

“Do you now” I say rocking on my heels

“I get the animals causing issues for us here, the ones eating up all our crops. We can’t have those round these parts” he states chuckling

“Yeah…yeah bad for business. I’m going to head in for the night then” I say pointing behind myself

“Well alright now! You have a great night” he says in a whisper while offering me a smile

I smile back before turning in my heels and heading back into the house. Locking the door immediately as I run up the stairs.

I decided to shower and eat some leftover snacks. By this point it was midnight and I decided to brush my teeth so I could lay down for the night.

Shutting the bathroom light off I walk into my dark room using the brightness of my screen to lead me to my bed. Shutting my bedroom door behind me I trot over to my bed. However something in my peripheral view catches my eye.

Through the little dent in the Venetian blinds I see a light on in the house across the street from me. Slowly walking over to the window I peak out the small dent and look across the street.

All I can see is the silhouette of a skinny man with a shotgun in hand standing at the window. Almost like he’s staring out the window….

Suddenly he slides out of view and the light goes out, but I stay looking and I get an uneasy feeling. It’s like he’s still by the window…hiding in the shadows…watching….waiting….

I scared myself by doing this, so I backed away from the window and decided to lay down. Listening to my heart thump in my ears as I focused on controlling my breathing. My mind was racing because I was so nervous about this town and whether or not I made the right decision…..

I attempted to clear my mind and doze off to sleep. I knew I had a full day of adventures the following day especially since I needed to find a supermarket of some sort here!

The End…. For now

Alright guys I know I’ve been GONE, but it feels good to be back! I hope you enjoyed this part. Can’t wait to start working on part 2 shortly 🤭🖤 we’re at 2,009 followers! I love yall soooo much 🥺

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagines #matthew sturniolo imagines #Spotify

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jgracie · 1 month

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LEO AND Y/N’S GARAGE: AUTO REPAIR AND MECHANICAL MONSTERS

masterlist | rules

in which life after camp half-blood is everything you and leo could’ve wished for

pairing husband!leo valdez x wife!athena!reader

warnings none :)

on the radio . . . this is the life (amy macdonald), keep driving (harry styles)

an i read the bit w leo and calypsos repair shop in house of hades and knew what i had to do 👩🏼‍💻

Eventually, the scent of your lineage - half mortal, half Goddess - began to wear off. What once was the bane of your existence, singling you out as ‘different’ and putting you in danger from the moment you popped out of your mother’s brain, was now a faint odour, a mere memory of the life you once led and the people you knew.

Leo didn’t wear off, though. He could never. Your relationship had been unexpected by everyone who knew the two of you. Pristine, perfect Y/N, daughter of Athena, the girl who not only stayed within the lines but drew them herself, and Leo Valdez, a messy, wild son of Hephaestus. From the moment you laid eyes on him, you knew you wouldn’t stand him. He was persistent and annoying, never giving you a moment’s peace and tearing down the walls you so carefully built around yourself.

In the end, he grew on you, and you realised you had a lot more in common than you thought. For example, your love of machinery. For as long as you could remember, you gravitated towards wires and nuts and bolts, only stopping when you got to camp as your life became filled with training and learning about the side of the family you didn’t even know you had. You used to longingly stare at the Hephaestus kids, itching to pick up a wrench and join them as they made all sorts of weaponry. Now, you own your very own garage: Leo and Y/N’s Garage: Auto-repair and Mechanical Monsters.

It started off as a silly joke between you and Leo. You were newly graduated and after spending so much time taking care of the Godly side of your family, you forgot what life as a mortal was like. Sure, you always wanted to be a mechanic, but what now? You didn’t want to work for someone else. You spent your whole life working for other people and watching as everyone you loved had shrouds burnt for them (if they were lucky), so you thought it was only fair if you did something for yourself.

“We could always open our own garage,” Leo had said when you voiced your thoughts that day, “‘Leo and Y/N’s Garage: Auto-repair and Mechanical Monsters’ has a nice ring to it, right?”

You laughed, saying something along the lines of “get real, Valdez,” before deciding to help him as he cooked dinner. Little did you know, Leo was being real. The next morning, he started looking for places he could rent for your garage. A few months after that, he began furnishing it and months after that, he started advertising. Once he was sure that everything was perfect, he decided to show you his little project, a velvet box with a certain piece of very valuable metal weighing down his coat pocket.

Today marks the six year anniversary of the opening of your garage (as well as the six year anniversary of your engagement), and to say business was booming would be an understatement. It started off as a place for mortals only, they’d drop off their cars and the nicer ones would stay for a little to make small talk, marvelling at your stories of how you sailed from the US to Europe together on a ship Leo built himself (you censored a lot of your experiences, of course), but after you expanded the garage, making it almost twice as big as it was before, you thought, ‘Why not let this be a place for demigods, too?’

Hidden from the eyes of mortals, the second half of your garage comes to life. There, you sell weaponry, armour and anything a demigod could possibly need, as well as providing a safe haven for those who needed recuperation after a long and tiring quest. You loved meeting them all, giving them advice and comfort as proof that things do get better and not all demigods die at the age of 16.

“Leo, have you seen Espe?” You yelled, wiping the grime from your hands as you realised your daughter had gone missing. Your son was too young to be at the garage and usually you’d stay with him, but your hands were itching for a hammer and your dear sister and brother-in-law offered to babysit, so why not let them? Your daughter was another case. She seemed to have inherited her parents’ inability to sit still and love for making things, insisting on spending all her time at work with the two of you as soon as she could walk.

On cue, Leo waltzed into the mortal side of the garage, your first born daughter, named Esperanza after his mother, in one arm and a toolbox in the other. “She decided to amuse herself with daddy’s magic toolbelt,” he said, sitting down on a nearby stool and placing her on his lap, “summoned about 50,000 gummy bears. I’m surprised she managed to override the cooldown on it, I’ve been trying to figure that out for years”

“Gummy bear?” She asked, looking up at Leo then at you, a grin - one she clearly got from her father - gracing her lips as she suddenly seemed interested in your conversation, making the two of you break into fits of laughter, which in turn made her laugh. Did she know what she was laughing about? No, but it didn’t matter anyway.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, you were being watched. Sydney and Aaron, the two demigods you were hosting as the former’s leg healed, were going to tell you that they were good to leave tomorrow when they stopped, noticing you were having a moment.

“It’s hard to remember they’re demigods too,” Aaron began, “they seem so… normal. No chaos, no monsters, nothing,” he stared longingly at you, then down at the girl next to him. Could they have that too?

As if she read his mind, Sydney took his hand in hers and smiled, “we’ll make it, trust me. They went through a lot before this, remember? They were part of the last great prophecy. If they can do it, so can we.”

If you had told your past self that you’d marry the one boy who managed to get under your skin, start a family with him and open not just a garage, but a place where demigods could feel a sliver of normalcy, you would’ve laughed in your own face.

#leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez #leo valdez x fem reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #leo valdez fanfic #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfic #leo valdez drabble #cynwrites

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Dirty Work 32

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Well, this escalated in a way I didn't plan.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Mr. Laufeyson’s voice is a low drone. You can hear his curt tone as he comes through the front door. His slither is met by a booming timbre that makes you jump. Thor speaks loudly, enough for some of his words to thunder through the walls that divide you.

Your ears pulse as you try not to listen. You know you shouldn’t. By Laufeyson’s reaction alone, you know his brother is less than welcome. Thor’s presence brings you little peace yourself as the memory of his creeping touch crawls up your spine.

You sit behind the laptop and try to focus on the screen. If you can distract yourself, it will be over soon enough and Thor will be gone. Maybe then, you can figure out why Mr. Laufeyson has turned to ice.

“...is she?” The two words echo and jar you from your failing battle.

Laufeyson’s response is short and sharp. You fill in the blanks of his deflection; ‘none of your concern’.

“...busy cleaning up your messes, eh?” Thor’s taunting question rolls upwards as footsteps hammer up the stairs, stopped halfway as another pair shuffle after them.

“I did not welcome you in,” Laufeyson is clearer now. You assume they are on the staircase with how their voices waft airily.

“Always the gracious host,” Thor counters.

“Do not lecture me on grace. Say what you’ve come to say and go. I’m busy–”

“Oh, yes, if I had a little maid like that, I’d always be busy as well–”

“Get on with it,” Laufeyson snarls.

Thor laughs heartily, “brother, one day you will see we are more alike than you care to accept. Maybe then you would see that it is the crux of our problems. You might even appreciate our shared tastes–”

“If you’ve only come to ramble, I’m not interested. I’ve spent enough time entertaining you lot–”

“You speak as if we are enemies,” Thor accuses, “you cannot waste time on family.”

“Ah, because kinship has always been sacred in your heart,” Laufeyson scoffs, “you are like a storm, you bluster but only make a mess. Say what you came to say and leave me be. I’ve work to do. Real work.”

“Well, if I am to deliver my message, I think both recipients should receive it, don’t you?”

“Say it,” Laufeyson hisses.

“But it is meant for both of you. The little maid as well–”

You sit up straight and tweak your head. You shouldn’t listen but you’re caught now. You cannot keep from overhearing.

“House manager,” Laufeyson girds, “I’m certain I can efficiently communicate whatever nonsense has drawn you here.”

“And they say I am stubborn,” Thor snorts, “Walpurgisnacht.”

“Walpurgisnacht?” Laufeyson echoes the single word.

“Surely you recall the old ways.”

“Don’t,” Laufeyson warns.

“Mother is having a celebration. Like when we were young. Father’s agreed to it.”

“She didn’t mention.”

“Ah, yes, well, you’ve much going on. She sent me to inquire after the little maid– house manager. She would require help with arranging the festivities.” Thor explains, “oh, and you’re invited too, I suppose.”

“She has her staff, does she not?”

“Frida is too old. She only serves tea and Gertrude’s never been very strong-minded. Mother needs input, not an empty vessel.”

“Charming,” Laufeyson remarks, "well, I will consider it. Next time, tell mother to call.”

“There will be many old faces. Many may even be happy to see you,” Thor goads.

“I wouldn’t expect so,” Laufeyson retorts, “must I ask you to leave anon?”

Another rolling guffaw fills the house. You hear a grunt from Laufeyson and a muted thump. Thor quiets with a sigh, “ah, fine, fine, I shall leave you to your little– house manager. You will tell her I say hello.”

Silence roils through the air. A scuff cuts through the tension and footfalls clamour down the stairs. The front door opens and closes, leaving you to wallow in the dark cloud left behind. Mr. Laufeyson’s long exhale blows up the staircase ahead of him and you listen to his approach.

You look at the door, expecting him to come through any moment. But it isn’t that one he opens. It’s the study door that slams with a terrible force. His growl permeates through and the adjoined door clicks as the lock is flicked into place. You stare at it and frown.

You don’t suppose his mood will thaw any time soon.

✨

Mr. Laufeyson does not emerge for supper. You barely eat anything yourself as anxiety tortures your stomach. You clean up after yourself and retreat upstairs.

You near the study, lingering before the door as you pluck up your courage. You tap softly on the wood. There’s no answer. You didn’t hear him go but maybe you missed it.

“I made dinner, Mr. Laufeyson. I’ve left you a plate in the oven,” you speak through the wood, to the ghost on the other side.

You traipse away in defeat. You’re entirely confused. What did you do so wrong? Even before his brother’s unprompted visit, Mr. Laufeyson was coolly apathetic. Yet that morning, in the shower, he’d been on fire, consuming you like flames.

Maybe you’re not good enough. Maybe you didn’t kiss him just right or make the noises he liked. Oh, but how are you supposed to know what to do?

You sit at the writing desk and tap your fingers on your chin. You squirm in your chair as the scene in the shower replays in your head. You tear it apart, trying to pick out the exact moment of your offense.

You shift on the seat and the throbbing pressure in your core ripples through you. Just the thought of his touch has you alight. You touch your hot cheeks and flutter your lashes. You shouldn’t be worried about all that, you should be working on that spread sheet.

You glance over at the study door. The house is stagnant once more. Just like those early days when you made your slow progress with a broom and mop. Something’s gone terribly wrong. Maybe… you should just leave.

You put your fingers mindlessly to the touch pad of the computer. You swirl around the cursor mindlessly. You blow out through your lips and sit up, another fraught peek towards the door.

You bring both your hands over the keyboard. No, you shouldn’t.

You need to figure this out. You need to know what you did, or didn’t do. You can be what he wants you to be, you have to. You have nothing else.

You type, then backspace, then type again. After several times, you hit search. You click through to a site with a black background and gasp at the obscene ads that fill the margins.

You bite down as you try to focus past the small thumbnails. You key into the search bar ‘shower’. You hover your finger over the enter key before you will yourself to hit it.

The search results are just as chaotic. You don’t know what you’re looking for. ‘Best Shower Scenes STEAMY’. Your insides tickle and you squeeze your thighs together. Invisible flames lick at you and cluster in your chest.

You mute the computer as the video loads. The house is so quiet that you’re aware of every creak and crack. You fidget as you sit through the ad of a woman giggling over a URL for meet-ups. You press your hands to your thigh, sitting forward so your weight rests on your pelvis, dampening the tingly heat.

The video begins. A woman with caramel coloured hair and a curvy body. You admire her figure and peer down at your own. Maybe that’s it, maybe you’re not hot enough? You remember how Mr. Laufeyson touched you all over, almost as if he was examining you. Did you disappoint?

You flick your eyes back up as a man enters and they step into the shower booth. You chew your lip as you fixate on his large dick. He’s very big but you think Mr. Laufeyson is too. You’re not sure. This isn’t helping, you still don’t understand anything.

They kiss and fondle each other. You lean forward, watching with a stitch between your brows. The woman drags her hands down the man’s body and gets to your knees. She pumps him with her hand and licks his tip, dragging her tongue down his length. He grabs her head and forces himself into her mouth.

She takes him greedily. Oh. That could be it. Last night, you were so afraid, and you got all teary, and you didn’t know what you were doing.

You watch her as she touches his sack, squeezing then works her hand in tandem with her mouth on his dick. You put your hand to the side of your neck and hold your breath. You wiggle on the chair, the friction making your own arousal more obvious.

Finally, the woman stands, the man lifting her by her hair. He spins her and bends her forward. She braces the wall and as he slaps her ass several times before gripping her hip. He’s so rough. You don’t know if you could handle that.

He slides into her and your mouth falls open. Her thighs quake and your own give a tremble. Your walls clench as the pressure knots in you. The thought of doing that with Mr. Laufeyson both frightens you and excites you.

You twiddle your fingers and blink at the screen. The furrow in your forehead deepens as you lean forward. You put your fingers along the touchpad but don’t press them down.

“Ahem,” Mr. Laufeyson startles you as he clears his throat.

You sit up and quickly hit the X in the corner. Your throat closes as you struggle to breathe, caught but not entirely. He stands in the doorway between the study and library. From that angle, he can’t see what’s on your screen.

“You are working hard,” he muses as he strides in with crossed arms.

“Yes, sir,” you answer breathily. You stare him in the face, too afraid to look anywhere else as your mind dares to imagine the shower again, both of you naked, this time, you’re bent over and he’s behind you. “Um, did you get your dinner?”

You close the laptop as you stand. You wince as the fabric of your panties clings to your wet cunt. You feel like he can see right through you.

“I’m not hungry,” he stops on the other side of the desk.

“Okay,” you swallow and your eyes flit side to side.

“I never told you to come out,” he drops his arms, placing his hand on the desk as he leans over it.

“Pardon?” You blink furiously.

“I said to remain in here until I told you it was safe. If you made my dinner, then you did not obey me.”

“I… Mr. Laufeyson, your brother’s gone–”

“And how could you know for sure if I did not confirm it?” He challenges with a wry tilt in his head. “I’ve been patient, pet, but I think you may require a different sort of discipline.”

“Mr. Laufeyson?” You babble, “I’m sorry–”

“Your apologies grow tiresome,” he huffs and stands straight. “Come here,” he points between him and the desk.

You put your head down and swiftly walk around the desk. He swirls his finger in the air and you turn your back to him. He backs away and rounds to the side of the desk.

“Hands down,” he nods to the desktop.

You press your palms flat, bent slightly at the waist. He considers you and strokes his chin with a hum. He circles the desk and you in a single, patient lap.

“Stay as you are.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you utter.

“Ah, no talking,” he warns, “remember your rules, pet.”

You gulp as he turns and struts away. Is it okay again? You can’t tell. He’s still rigid and painfully formal. He hasn’t touched you, he seems to be avoiding getting close. You stare at the wood beneath your hands and shiver.

You hear him in his study. You glance over as he appears in the door frame, his hands hidden behind him. He tuts. “Head forward.”

You look ahead and focus on the wall. He nears, his shadow skewed in the lamplight. He stands behind you, a foot away and he hums. He clucks and strolls around the desk to face you.

He pulls his hands from behind his back, revealing a thick leather strap. The brown leather is faded and cracked. Your eyes round as you stare at it and he brings it taught between his hands.

“Flogging is historically a long held practice. For the monk in his self-flagellation, for the heathen in his cell, and… for the woman in her disobedience,” he explains as his lips curl. “Spare the rod, spoil the child…” He takes a breath, “and you, pet, are growing spoiled.”

Your lips part but you don’t speak. You must follow the rules. This is the test. If you fail this, then it’s over. If you fail, you have nothing.

He walks along the desk and rounds the corner, brushing by as he purrs, “remember your rules. Not a sound.”

He comes up behind you and you hold your breath. He tugs at the back of your skirt and shudders. He pulls the fabric above your ass, his hand trailing along the back of your panties. He hooks his finger in the elastic and tears them down to your thighs. You quiver and clench your jaw tight, fighting back a squeak.

He stretches the leather across your ass. It’s cool and smooth. You twitch as bumps rise across your skin. He pulls back and you lower your head. You wait. Nothing.

You cautiously raise your chin and look back. He snaps the whip across your ass as you do and you spasm with the hot flash of pain. He points to the wall in a wordless demand. Eye forward. You turn your attention back to the grey blue paint as your eyes glisten. He strikes you again, the agony scalding across the swell of your ass.

Your thighs shake as he pulls back again. You await a third but it never comes. You don’t dare move. He paces behind you. You watch his shadow cast before you and he moves abruptly forward. You bite your tongue as he lashes you again. Harder as he lets out a thick grunt.

Your hands slip and you fall forward. You plant your palms more firmly as you push yourself straight. A fourth comes and sends tendrils down to your toes. You hiss through your teeth, quaking, fighting not to collapse.

You deserve this. Whatever you’ve done, you’ve earned this.

A fifth and your knees knock together. You barely keep afoot as the sixth lands with extra bite. Seven, eight, nine… He lashes you in quick succession, as if he cannot stop himself. The tenth has you heaving, about to vomit with the pain.

He stops himself, his shadow holding up the stap. He lowers it and steps back. He sighs and turns away.

“Tomorrow you will pack for our departure,” he declares, “we leave on Friday.”

We? So you are to go with him. You don’t dare ask or say a single word. You stay as you are, shaking as you roll your eyes back against the flood.

“You will be on your best behaviour,” he warns as he nears the study door, “I trust this lesson will not be forgotten.”

He passes into the study and the door closes harshly. Your legs fold and collapse beneath you. You land in a heap, holding yourself off your ass as you whimper. You won’t ever forget.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #dark fic #fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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bimobuddy · 1 month

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Storms

Hazbin TK fic

Writing this because there's currently a storm going on that's not supposed to end until 7 pm, and I'm not doing well :)

Lee!Alastor, Ler!Lucifer

Alastor might be ooc

CW: Fear of storms?? Anxiety

Summary: Hell gets a really bad storm, and Alastor isn't as composed as he normally is. When Lucifer finds out the reason why, he decides to put their rivalry aside and help him out.

BOOM

Alastor gripped his cane tightly in his hands, his permanent grin slightly more strained than usual. Wordlessly, he stood up from his seat and made an excuse to Charlie about needing to finish up some scripting for his next broadcast.

He turned and left the lobby, his shoes clicking as he walked down the hall.

CRAAACK!!

His breath caught in his throat as he picked up the pace a little, his ears starting to fold back.

"Heeey, Bambi!" Lucifer called, appearing in front of him. Oblivious to the Radio Demon's distress, he grinned, ready to harass him. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Alastor gripped his cane so hard he thought he was about to snap it. "Not that it's any of your business, your highness, but I'm heading back to my room." He replied, trying to mask his fear behind his usual smile and sass.

As thunder sounded again, softer this time, more of a rolling sound, Lucifer picked up on Alastor's anxious demeanor. His tail flicked, and his ears were pinned back a little.

The king chuckled, "Oh come on, don't tell me you of all demons are scared of a little-"

BOOOM!!

Lucifer blinked and looked around. Had Alastor disappeared? The light sound of microphone feedback caught his attention, and he turned to see that Alastor hadn't disappeared into shadow, but instead dropped to the floor and hidden under a table in the hall.

Alastor's ears were fully pinned back as he shook and pressed himself back against the wall.

Sensing this was something deeper, Lucifer kneeled down to be eye level with him. "Hey," he started, speaking softly, the same way he had to Charlie when she was a child and scared of the dark, "You're okay, Al. This hotel was built with angelic power, the storm isn't going to break in."

Alastor, eyes wide still, looked up at the king. When Lucifer took a chance and reached a hand out, he was surprised when Alastor took it.

"When I was a child," the demon started, his voice losing its radio filter, "a really bad tornado hit Louisiana. It devastated our town and nearly destroyed my home. I was in the cellar with my mother for hours until we were found."

Lucifer's eyes widened a little bit, as he felt his heart break for the demon. He gave Alastor's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "You know, Charlie used to be afraid of storms too-"

Alastor forced a short laugh. "Wonderful, I'm behaving like a child." He pulled his hand away, and climbed out from under the table, feeling embarrassed for having acted like that in front of his rival. As another boom of thunder sounded, Alastor froze and gripped the table so hard, the wood started to crack and splinter.

Lucifer summoned his wings and wrapped one side around Alastor. "Let me walk you to your room-" Alastor shook his head. "My room is modeled to look like the swamps of Louisiana, I can't-... I can't stay in there during a storm."

"Alright then... My room, come on." He turned and started to guide Alastor in the opposite direction. He folded his wings in and de-summoned them, as to let Alastor retain his dignity when they passed by the lobby again.

As he was being guided, Alastor didn't once argue or complain, much to the surprise of Lucifer. He actually stayed rather close to the king, ears down, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

When they reached Lucifer's room, there was a flash of lightning, causing Alastor to rush in quickly. Seeing Alastor break character so much was very odd and concerning to the king. For as long as he had known the demon, Alastor had the attitude of someone who was untouchable. And now here he was, shaking, and bleating like a scared fawn.

He sighed, feeling bad for him. He remembered when Charlie would come running into his room scared, during a storm. Back then, he would have scooped her up into his lap, and they would have counted the seconds between the flashes of lightning and the cracking of thunder. And when that didn't work, he'd- Oh there's an idea.

"Alastor?" He started, taking his hat off and setting aside. "You wanna know what I used to do with Charlie when she was scared of storms?" He asked with a smile.

The Radio Demon turned to face him. He was still holding onto that smile, but his eyes showed just how distressed he was. He tilted his head.

Lucifer waved him over, sitting down. "I'll show you, sit down." Alastor approached and sat next to him, willing to try anything at this point to calm his nerves. He set his cane aside and let out a surprised fawn squeak when the king just opened his coat. He was obviously wearing a shirt underneath, but he hadn't expected for Lucifer to touch him.

"It was a little game we'd play. You ready?" Before Alastor could question it, he saw another flash of lighting that made him jump. That was Lucifer's cue to start.

He reached forward and started to scritch his claws against Alastor's sides, up and down. The demon let out a startled yelp, and at first Lucifer thought maybe this was a bad idea. But when the host started to chuckle and lean into it, he smiled and continued.

As thunder rolled and boomed overhead, Lucifer slid his hands upward and spidered over his ribs. Alastor doubled over, laughing harder, yet he barely even noticed the loud noise, only able to focus on the tickling.

Playful claws zipped down and vibrated into his hips, and the radio host couldn't help but curl up and fall onto his side, tail wagging. He squeezed his eyes shut and laughed louder, his own hands shooting down to grab Lucifer's, yet he didn't push him away, seeming to be more than okay with this distraction.

The king gave his hips a break and reached up to gently scritch behind his ears. He couldn't stop the fond smile that painted itself across his face once Alastor's loud laughter melted away into staticky giggles.

Lucifer summoned his wings back and again, and wrapped them around Alastor, pressing them against his back. Alastor normally hated touch, but he welcomed this. It was warm, and the gentle, constant pressure against his back was helping with his anxiety, a lot actually.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Lucifer plucking one of his own feathers. His cheeks warmed and his ears folded back, but he didn't attempt to escape. He just squeezed his eyes shut again, and allowed the angel to flutter it under his chin.

Alastor burst into surprised giggles, shocked at just how ticklish it was. It definitely didn't feel like a normal feather, it was worse.

Lucifer chuckled, "Yeah, angels feathers, they're much more intense than birds." He saw the window flash, and brought the feather down to Alastor's tummy, pushing his shirt up. Right when the thunder started, he started to flick and flutter the feather against his skin, grinning to himself when Alastor jumped and curled up, laughing, gently batting at the king.

Yet he didn't even notice the storm outside.

#sfw tickling community #tickle community #tickle fic #tickling #hazbin hotel tickle #hazbin tickles #lee!alastor #ler!lucifer

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purelyfiction · 4 months

Text

A Shot In the Darkest Dark

Benedict Bridgerton x (F) Reader

Summary: An agreement of terms that are not favorable for your future leads to conversations, moments of stiff air and inconsistency, walls and held hope.

Word Count: 2,393 Words

Author’s Note: welp I bet none of y’all saw this coming now did you, i guess you could call this a prologue to irreperable? thanks to the little bird in my inbox for this!! - arranged marriage, tension and fluff, all the fun things

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

You’d just wish they’d cease the deliberations already. The walls of your family home seem to rattle and shake as the booming voice of your father comes from down the hall. Not even an hour prior a letterman had come to the door with a very detailed and lengthy compromise scrawled into the ink.

It wasn’t unknown to your mother or yourself that your father had been making questionable investments as of late. So much so that he’d begun to fault on payments he’d owed. The moment that he’d understood what the letter was detailing, he ushered you from the room, needing to discuss with your mother what he’d read.

However, you were not one to be left out of major implications, especially one where you’re not to be in the presence of the employed deliberators. That usually never bode well for you. An ear pressed to the rather light doors allowed you to catch the quick whispers of your name, a debt and a wedding.

Then your mother had launched onto a defense for your position, which was incredibly brave of her. They were still locked into their counter points to one another when dinner was called. Your mother, flush in the face, can barely look your father in the eye. Meanwhile, he is too busy shoveling the meal on his plate into his mouth to invite a conversation between the three of you. That doesn’t stop you from inciting one.

“Am I to just be left out of the running? Is there secrecy amongst us?” You knew the response already, it was your attempt at jolting your father into confession.

“Your father is shipping you off to London.” Your mama, always the curt one. Silverware clatters to the table and you meet the eyes of the only man in your life in hopes for an explanation. He fumbles on his words for a few moments before he can finally manage to get out the events that were unfolding.

“Your mother- I- we have been discussing the manner of our finances. As you know, we are facing a testing set of circumstances and… my partner was kind enough to offer a solution that does not involve a trade of currency.” This partner, however, was the son of his former partner. Your father had been evading this debt for years before the son had come across the missing funds. A conversation last week had revealed the hand that the Amberley house had been facing. The solution? A union of the second eldest son and Lord Amberley’s only child, his daughter - you.

Before you knew it, you were being shipped off to a home in London in order to prepare for a wedding that you had mere days to come to terms with. Stood in a shop with a French woman who wouldn’t dare say more than four words to you with your mother and soon-to-be mother in law in the room, you’re questioning exactly what you’re being greeted with.

At the very least, your new husband’s mother was a rare gemstone to be found. The woman had greeted you at the shop, by name, with a host of gifts for you and your mother (which was less than anticipated, considering you were approaching with very little to offer on your end) and then began to launch into tales of her family. A very large family, in fact, with children she was immensely proud of, fiercely dedicated to and overly enamored with. It did not come to be ungenuine though, not in the manner of people attempting to piece together some falsity in hopes to cushion their luck. No, no, Violet beamed as she spoke of her eldest daughter, now a duchess, her first grandchild - how she would be certain that her next one would have a great father on their side. Seeing that their father would be your husband.

Kind, charming, educated and brilliant, she said. Devoted to studying his passion for artistry and poetry, well versed in the society standards while also being an entertaining chap. There wasn’t a poor thing mentioned in terms of this gentleman. Even when the older women had slid out for a breath of air, the modiste mentioned how incredibly stunning the family was, including your groom.

Over dinner that night, you’d meet your fiance. Not a soul that had spoken of him had been exaggerating. Benedict Bridgerton was exactly as he’d been acclaimed to be. He graciously made his introductions to you and soon after made you chuckle with the comment he’d made under his breath. As you waited for the dinner hour to approach, he guided you around his family’s home.

“This home is so very far removed from what it once was. See, Daphne, Francesca and Elosie all used to share their quarters with one another when they were younger, as there were only three designated spaces in the home and well, my parents were rather the love birds, it would seem.” You could not fault yourself for the way you grinned at his stories. They continued as you approached his own quarters, littered with canvas and paint jars, the smell of turpentine overwhelmingly hitting your nostrils.

“I’d assume that you’d like children of your own? Your mother spoke very highly of your characteristics that would aide you in fatherhood.” His chin tucks over his shoulder in your direction, facing out the three panels of glass in the middle of his room.

“I do not believe that is… solely my decision to make, Ms. Amberley.” Feet stay planted despite their wish to step back in sheer surprise.

“Implying that you might forgo raising your own children? You speak so highly of your nephew, not to mention your siblings-”

“That is the furthest thing from what I am implying.” He cuts you off a moment, a swift apology leaving him for doing so. “What I am implying is such that- it is a discussion I wish to involve my wife in.” The manner in which he speaks it is solemn. Benedict’s feet come to a chair, where he settles for a moment, looking anywhere but the direction in which you stand.

“You wished to marry for love, did you not?” Your question catches him by surprise, leaving his eyes training forward to engage with yours.

“Well, I certainly did not anticipate my marriage to be a settlement for my father’s books. Not ever did I prepare for such a thing.” Slowly, you draw near, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Nor did I.” The pale color of his irises come up in your direction, moving in time with his hand which takes yours.

“I am sorry that I have stripped you of the opportunity, Ms.” Your brows furrow as you shake your head.

“No, do not fret with such things Mr. Bridgerton. The choices have been made, there is no value in dwelling on matters we cannot manage by our own volitions.” The way his facial expression softened at your reassurance let you know that Benedict would always be compassionate toward you. If not as your husband, as your friend.

In three days time, the fanfare of the ceremony and following celebrations arrived just as you had in the glimmering showcase that was the carriage that the Bridgertons owned. The chapel was adorned in the most wonderful arrangements of flowers and foliage you’d ever seen. Coming from a countryside village there were countless items you’d never seen prior to today. The vivid colored flowers in your field of view being one of them, the intricate weaving pattern of your gown another, the ornate and sizeable stones on your neck being the final thing.

Benedict had insisted that you borrow the jewels from his mother’s collection. If you were not to have the spouse you desired, he was determined to make the rest of the day match the expectations you had conjured in your mind. He had been sincere in the conversations regarding your nuptials, even more so on making you as comfortable as possible.

The ceremony was rather quaint. It consisted of both your families, the extended and the near, a few family friends on your groom’s side. Your father did not work efficiently enough to keep very many friends. It would seem your luck would change as your last name did.

Benedict had taken it upon himself to write his own vows, something he mentioned he had hoped to do one day in brief conversations leading up to the event.

“My darling. I fear as though we embark on one of the most uncertain paths that the Lord provides for us in this life. For that is what He does, after all. He surrounds us with the light of the sun, the life of the botanicals that grow below us, the coursing of the rivers at our side, the family that resides behind us. He provides us with the fruits of His plans he intends for us. He provided me with the gracious woman that is you. As rushed and incredibly daunting as this may be for the two of us,” Benedict’s hand slid into yours, beginning to play with the gemstone soldered to the metal looping around your ring finger, “I pray that it is enduring. That it is kind. That it is joyous, prosperous and pleasant. That the days that result from our union be filled with contentment and merriment, from now and until our souls come to join Him.”

They were beautiful. So meticulously crafted, and well intended as the two of you began the vow of spending the remainder of your lives with one another.

Frequently they chase through your mind these days, walking around the home that Violet had insisted you take upon yourselves. The walls of books, the windows of light that brought you breathtaking familiarity of the countryside you’d grown to love - the dedicated quarters that Benedict had aided you in decorating to your every whim.

The brunette had done every service to aid in your comfort with the marriage enacted. Beautiful gowns from the latest fashions, halls and gardens to lose your time into, countless hobby pools to pick from in waning afternoons, there was no shortage of effort from your husband.

Your conversations were always well mannered, filled with little details of your past lives, stories of friends and siblings, rumors and fairytales from youth. Routines were built between the two of you, including that every three nights, Benedict would sit with you and read the words of the material you’d chosen to you.

Tonight was one of those nights. Benedict lounges out on the chaise, jacket long gone, supple adorned vest and matching kerchief around his neck loosened from the days works. His words are joined with the chirp of evening sounds from a cracked window to aid in the circulation of the house. Your hands stay busy with a needlepoint project. The characters he speaks of are discussing the name of the child that’s been born. You implore your thoughts forward.

“Ben?” His head shifts to look from the parchment and toward you at the use of his name. It was a name that his mother never used, nor his siblings rarely. Perhaps it was just you that had coined this shortened version of the Christian name he’d been given. “Do you suppose we should discuss children?” Blue eyes return to the page in front of him. Given the timeline since your wedding, it was not an unjustified question. You were aware that should the next time you return to London, his mother would be rushing up to you like a hunting dog, ready to drag the kill in from the woods to show off to the ton.

“Do you wish to discuss it?” His eyes barely glaze over you before he slides a ribbon into the split of the book, covers coming together, the book leaving a hefty sigh on the table next to him upon contact.

“I worry that it will be questioned the next time we are seen. We have not entirely been honest with one another over the subject.” There were plenty of things that hadn’t been honest in terms of your marriage the last few months. How Benedict and yourself had their own sleeping arrangements. That you saw each other maybe once or twice a day at mealtimes, save for the nights where it was explicitly discussed you’d be joining the other in leisure times.

Benedict has grown quiet, which is a very odd state for the husband you have come to know the last weeks. This time, you set your own busywork aside, keeping your eyes toward him as he rests in contemplation.

“I wish to have children of my own. Though, I know the process is… taxing on a woman,” the pillow under his head shifts to look your direction, eyes finally coming to meet with one another for a rare occurrence. They do not avert in quick fashion either. The admittance of a family was something you dwelled on with semi-frequent behaviors. After all, one can only do so much knitting of babe-wear before picturing the scene for themselves. You dwell in the wonder of it all as you keep each other held without touching either one of you.

Would they look like their father? Behave like him? With the amused twinkle in their eye when a jest is made, a twist of words, stories with outlandish accents and impossible daydreams… would it be so horrible? To wake in the night with a small babe as they cry out for their mother, held in the warmth of her breast, comforted by her scent. You ached for such a life, one you were cheated of the moment the emerald slid to your hand. A very heavy hand that seems to burden you daily.

“My wife.” Benedict’s voice comes to the room, echoing off of bound paper and golden embellishment on the walls. You tilt your head with a soft grin.

“I am sure we will come to an agreement some day, husband.” There is no need to linger on the unfortunate uncertainties between the two of you. The dark would linger where it rests, those that lived in its shadows subject to whatever hid among it.

Even the ugliest and most ferocious truths.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic

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voidvannie · 1 month

Text

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑

🖇🦋 ꒱ 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 !

𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ｡｡｡｡ emersyn surprised her best friend by showing up at the lake house, and quinn soon goes to his brother when he realizes his feelings for the singer.

ੈ✩ ━ ❪ feel free to send an any request of things you want to see in this series, or if you just want to share some thoughts about what your read! i would love that! ❫

June 1, 2022

“Hi, Emmie, we miss you!?”

“Mama H!” Emersyn cheers as the woman answers her FaceTime call.

“Is that Emmie?!”Jim’s face appears next to his wife’s, ginning widely at the girl he saw as his daughter. “Hey, superstar!”

“Hey, Papaw H! How are you guys?” She asked, looking off screen as a voice calls her name, “The blue one, Justin!”

“We’re good, honey! What with the call?” Jim asked the brunette as he smiled.

“Well, I wanted to let the two of you be the first to know that I’m coming to the lake house risk summer!”

A gasp leaves Ellen’s lips as a smile makes its way onto her face, “Are you serious?!”

“Yes! I feel like it’s been a long time coming, and besides, I miss everyone.” Emersyn pouts, “And with mom and dad going on their little getaway and Ryder busy with his own life, I need this.”

“I’ve been telling you that you need a break!” A male voice calls throughout the background just as a shirt lands on her head.

“Justin! Stop messing up my bedroom! Go home to your wife!”

“You said you would go get waffles with me!”

“Ugh! Fine! I’ll see you guys in a couple of days! Love ya’ll!”

“We love you, sweetheart!” Ellen blows the young woman a kiss before hanging up, “Oh, I’m so happy! Our girl is coming home for the summer!”

Jim smiles sweetly at his wife, his own excitement building up in his chest, “Maybe this is the summer where Quinn will get his head out of his ass and finally admit that he’s had feelings for her from the very first summer she stopped coming.”

June 10, 2022

The slick black car pulled into the driveway of the Hughes lake house, cars piled up outside from the amount of people staying there this summer.

Choosing to get her stuff from the trunk later, the brunette girl bounces up the stairs and knocks on the door.

The red wooden door opens up and Emersyn grins when she notices that Ellen is the one to open it.

“Emmie, my sweet girl!” Ellen pulls her into a tight hug, both women hugging each other for dear life, “Oh, I’ve missed you so much!”

“I missed you! You’re making me cry!” Emersyn can feel herself tear up as they pull away from each other, the brunette wiping her tears away.

“I heard our girls voice!” Jim’s booming voice filled the air as he comes around the corner, straight to the girl he had practically helped raise since she was eight. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi.”

“Come on, all the boys are out on the dock.” Jim leads the girl towards the back door as his wife follows along. “Hey, boys! Look what that cat dragged in!”

Everyone turns in the direction of Jim's voice, shouts of happiness leaving the lips of those who knew Emersyn on a personal level as they rushed to hug her, all of them talking over each other.

But two people stood off to the side, both with totally different emotions swirling around.

Jack stood with a dropped jaw, tears pooling as he it had been years since they had spent a summer with each other. Of course, the two talked on the daily and texted, checking up on each other. And Emersyn had been to a handful of his hockey games while Jack tried to go to as many concerts of hers as he could.

But they hadn’t actually spent a summer together since the summer that Quinn had embarrassed her after Luke spilled her secret about her crush on Quinn — one that was still so much present even though it had been years.

Quinn sat off to the side, his entire body frozen as he takes in the girl standing in front of him. The two hadn’t talked since that one summer. And every time Quinn tried to get Jack to give him the singers new number, his brother always refused.

If she wanted him to have it, then she would’ve given it to him.

“Holy, fu— is this real?” Jack asked from his place, watching as his best friend nodded her head.

“Hi, Jacky.”

And that’s all it took for the two best friends to rush towards each other, Jack picking the brunette up to hold her to him tightly, the middle Hughes boy swaying them slightly.

“Are you here for the summer?” He mumbles in her neck, only loud enough for her to hear.

“Yes. I decided that it—,”

“No. Let me help you get your stuff up to your room.” Jack cuts her off, placing a hand on the small of her back, pushing her towards the inside of the lake house.

It’s quiet as Jack watches Emersyn unpacking her stuff in the bedroom that was designated for her when she came to the Lake House for the summer, which for the last nine years had stayed empty.

“The entire summer?”

Emersyn laughs as she pushes the now empty suitcase under the bed, “I’m here the entire summer. Well, I do have to fly back to California in a couple of days just for a concert. I promised Justin I’d come sing Overboard with him.”

Jack nods as she comes to sit next to him on the bed, “How’s that crush on Quinn?”

Emersyn groans, throwing herself back as she uses the palms of her hands to cover her eyes, “You would think that after nine years, and one toxic ass relationship, that I wouldn’t have one anymore but it hasn’t gone away.”

“Might help if you stopped watching his games, or stopped looking over his Instagram, or let me set you up on a date with —,”

“I’m not going on a date with anybody for your team.” She cuts his off, “Dawson and Nico are great guys, but no.”

“Worth a shot.” He shrugged.

“I tried really hard to forget about my crush on Quinn, but it seems impossible. And I know that he doesn’t feel the same way, he made that pretty clear in 2013, but….,”

“You want him to return the feelings.” Jack smiles softly.

“Yeah.” Emersyn sighs, “God, that sounds so stupid.”

“Maybe one day he will. It’d be nice if you were my sister one day.” Jack smirks, nudging his foot with hers before the smirk drops, “I don’t know how I’d feel about it though.”

“What do you mean?” She sits up, eyebrows pinched together is confusion.

“Emmie, he broke your heart to the point that you haven’t been here is nine years. He let his friends laugh at you. He embarrassed you.” Jack shakes his head, “He’s by brother, and I love him, but your my sister and I love you just as much.”

“Jack! Stop hogging Emmie!” Trevor rushed into the bedroom, cutting off the conversation between the two best friends as he picks the singer up and throws her over his shoulder.

“Trevor!” Emersyn squealed, clutching tightly to his sides to make sure she wouldn’t slip from his grip. “Put me down!”

“I don’t think so, pop star.”

June 11, 2022

Emersyn had officially made it an entire day without talking to Quinn. Trevor and Jack had done a great job at keeping her as far away from her as possible.

But this morning as she was sitting on the porch, watching the sun rise, she had no luck seeing as she was the only one awake.

“Hey.” Quinn comes to sit in the empty seat next to her.

“Hi.” She doesn’t turn her head to look at him as he shoulders tense.

Quinn notices the way she rubs the palms of her hands on her bare thighs, a habit that she picked up on when she was nervous about something.

“How’s things in sunny California?” He asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Good. I finally moved out of Justin’s place.” Emersyn nods, “Which isn’t all too great ‘cause I live next door and he can just walk in whenever he feels like it.”

Having been a minor when she first moved to California, her parents staying in Michigan, she needed an adult to live with, and Justin offered to be her legal guardian until she was old enough.

And the brunette wanted to move out whenever Hailey had moved in with him, but both told her to stay, and she ended up doing that until about a months ago.

“Emmie.” The door slides open and Luke pops his head out with a pout, “Will you make me some of your pancakes?”

A giggle leaves her lips as she stands up, walking towards him, “Come on you big baby.”

Quinn watches the girl walk inside with his youngest brother, a sign leaving his lips as he throws his head back, “I am so fucked.”

June 14, 2022

“We need to talk.” Quinn shuts Jack’s bedroom door as the Devil’s player was trying to find a specific t-shirt that Emersyn had asked him to get so that she could throw it over her swim suit.

“Talk about what?” Jack doesn’t turn from his closet as he pushes clothes around.

“I’m in love with Emersyn.”

Jack freezes as the words come from his brother’s mouth, t-shirt clutches tightly in his fist before he shakes his head, “No.”

“No? What do you mean ‘no’?” Quinn looks at his brother in confusion as Jack turns to him.

“You think I’m going to let you love my best friend after what happened?” Jack asked, a dry chuckle leaving his lips. “Think again.”

“Jack—,”

“No. It has been nine years since I’ve spent an entire summer with Emmie because of you.” Jack tells him, “Hell, she didn’t even come to Luke’s first NHL game that she promised him she would come to because she didn’t want to face you.”

“I know! Jack, I was 13–,”

“I don’t give a damn if you were 31! Emmie has spent her entire life trying to please you, to make you see her as more than my best friend!” Jack’s voice grew louder as his grip on the t-shirt got tighter, knuckles turning white out of anger. “I’ll be damned if you hurt her all over again!”

“Jack—,”

“Tell her.”

“What? No!”

Jack’s jaw flexes as he clenches down on his teeth, “Either you tell her right now, or I do it.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Not fair? You what’s not fair?! Her being gone for nine years, not wanting to step foot into this lake house, because you hurt her and embarrassed her!” Jack’s voice carried throughout the house as he makes his way down the stairs, feet pounding loudly with each step that he took.

“Jack! Stop!”

“Emmie!” Jack calls out for the girl as he holds the t-shirt out to her.

“Oh, thank yo—,”

“Quinn is in love with you.”

Silence falls over the entire lake house, Emersyn's standing in shock as she holds the t-shirt in her hand.

"Jack." Quinn hisses, not able to tear his gaze away from the fallen expression on Emersyn's face. "Emmie."

"Stop." Her voice cracks as she holds a hand up, pushing the t-shirt into his chest as she walks by him and heads up the stairs.

"Seriously?" Quinn looks at his little brother before following after the brunette, "Emmie! Hey, Emersyn, talk to me!"

"What the hell just happened?" Trevor asked after closing his mouth after it fell open in shock.

“Emmie, will you please open the door?” Quinn calls out as he knocks on the bedroom door, forehead pressed against the wooden surface.

Silence fills the air as the brunette inside doesn’t say a word, throwing stuff into a suitcase as she texted Justin that she wanted to come back a day earlier for at least a couple of days to clear her head.

"Emersyn, please!" Quinn knocks once again before the doorknob is turning and the Canucks player pushed it open standing in the doorway, "What are you doing?"

"I have to go back to Cali to do a show. I don't have the time to talk." She replies as her phone dings, Justin texting her back with flight information for flight that was leaving in two hours.

"So, you're just gonna runaway again?"

Emersyn spun around, "I didn't runaway the first time! I was heartbroken, embarrassed! I took some time for myself because thirteen-year-old me was heartbroken!"

"Emmie--,"

"I seriously don't have the time for this." Emersyn says with a shake of her head, grabbing the now zipped suitcase and quickly walking out of the bedroom.

Quinn stands there for a moment before he's rushing after her, ignoring the looks from all of the hockey players spread out in his lake house living room. "I love you! Is that what you wanted to hear?! I'm in love with you!"

"I am not talking about this right this moment. I have a plane to catch."

"So that's it?"

Emersyn spins around to look at him once more as a tear falls from her eyes, "I waited nine years for you to say something, to heart you say that you loved me the way that I love you. Nine. I'm sure you can wait a couple of days before I'm ready to talk."

And with those last words, Emersyn walks out of the door, leaving Quinn standing there.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl blurb #❥ ꒰ emersyn campbell ꒱#❥ ꒰ emersyn & quinn ꒱#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #nhl

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wardenparker · 10 months

Text

The King's Queen - chapter 1

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Prince Javier of the Balearic Islands has always known that one day he would have to follow in his father's footsteps to be the caring and steadfast king that his people deserve. What he did not know is that he would be stepping into the next phase of his life alongside a woman he has never met before - and amidst a rocky sea of unusual circumstances of every kind.

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 8.1k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: arranged marriage, age gap, classicism, cursing, food and alcohol, mentions of American politics, deceased parents* Illness, cancer. Summary: Javi is given some unexpected and unwelcome news from his father - meanwhile you receive the phone call that you have been waiting for for your entire life. Notes: As always, we do our best to infuse some Spanish into the dialogue when our stories call for it, but neither Keri nor I are fluent by any means. If you see an error let us know, but kindness counts!

The day began, as so many do, with a knock on the door. The palace had stirred to life hours ago, bustling staff all going about their business and, breakfast served and cleared away again, appointments kept, and meetings held. Business, as they say, booms this morning at Castel del Ocaso. The only person not yet risen, it seems, is the crowned prince.

And so his day begins with a knock. A gentle one. There is no need to jar the man into reality cruelly. His valet has a tray with his breakfast so that the kitchen could move on with their duties for the day, and an urgent message from the prince's father. Which is, if one was to ask the valet, the only reason for waking the prince at what is already a late hour. When he stirs at the opening of the windows, the valet clears his throat and sets the tray down on the broad bedside table. “There is a message this morning, your Highness.” The valet tells the bleary-eyed prince quietly. “His Majesty would like to see you in his chambers after you are dressed.”

Groaning, Javi looks over at the clock, well aware that the staff knew that he was to sleep in. It’s a rare night that he is up until the early morning hours and today had been blocked out of his schedule as a recovery day. “What is going on?”

“I only know that your father has asked for you.” Sometimes the king’s staff would impart more details or relay why his Majesty needed a particular thing or requested a particular presence, but this was not one of those times. Indicating the tray laden with croissants, marmalade, yoghurt, and fresh fruit alongside a strong cortado, the prince’s valet offers an apologetic smile. “Would you prefer to take breakfast before dressing?”

“No—” Javi sits up and groans, closing his eyes again at the throbbing in his skull. “Yes.”

The man says nothing at first, but hides a private smile as he hands the prince his coffee before going to his closet to choose clothing for the day. “Was your evening enjoyable, sire?” He asks, always preferring to have the temperature - so to speak - of the royal family each day. There had been shouting from the king’s chambers this morning.

“Too much so.” Javi is desperately grateful for the coffee and he takes a sip with a sigh before reaching for his bottle of aspirin from the bedside table. He had anticipated celebrating too hard and wanted to be prepared. “I am getting too old for all night parties.”

“Then we will simply begin celebrations earlier in the day, I expect.” The prince’s birthday is always a series of extravagances, and this year had been no exception.

“Yes.” Hissing, Javi gingerly crawls out of the bed. “I will shower first.”

“Very good, your Highness.” With a nod, the valet lays out clothes for the day and is gone again, leaving the prince to ready himself to see his father.

******

It takes Javi an hour to shower, dress and make his way to his father’s quarters, frowning slightly as he knocks on the door at the raised voices inside.

“¿Quién es esto?” The king’s deep voice grumbles from inside, obviously irritable. When the doors open a moment later to admit the new arrival, the king is fairly growling and ousts the others from the room. The last to leave is the doctor, sparing a last glance at the king before excusing him to say good morning to the prince as he retreats.

“Javier.” Gruff as he can be, the bedraggling king sighs and waves his son inside. “Come in.”

“You wished to see me?” There is a tenuous relationship between the king and his only son but Javi loves the gruffer man, even if he does not always understand him.

“I wish to speak with you.” He glances at the footman standing near the door. “Alone.” As soon as his son steps inside the door is shut securely behind him and the king smothers a deeper sigh. Standing is quite painful this morning, but since lying down and sitting are, too, he does not move yet. “I sent for the doctor last week. About the pain in my stomach.” Which no one, save extremely close family members, knows about. “He came back to me with answers this morning.”

“Sí?” Javi strides closer to his father, a worried frown creasing his brow. It is not good news if his father is asking to speak to him privately. It is rare that at least his cousin Lucas is not in attendance. Fear and dread coils in his own stomach and the breakfast he had threatens to make a reappearance.

There is no other way to do this, for a man of King Miguel’s temperament, than to do as the Americans say and rip the Band-Aid off. “Javier,” he motions for his son to come closer, not wanting to have to raise his voice and be heard by someone passing in the hall of the drafty medieval palace. “It is cancer.” Which was his worst fear. His fear as a ruler and his fear as the father of a son he is not certain is ready to take his place. “It came on quickly, and spread just as fast.” He tries to hide a wince as best he can, pressing a hand over his aching side as though the disease can hear him speak of it. Laying down may not be any less painful than standing, but it does relieve a bit of pressure, so he lies down again gingerly. “They have given me a few months at most.”

“No.” Javi shakes his head and gives a nervous chuckle. His father is king. He is invincible, always seeming so large to Javi, even now. “No, they are wrong. They have to be wrong.” He blinks, fighting the tears that would be ‘unbecoming’ a future ruler.

“It is always possible for doctors to be wrong.” He would be a fool and a liar to claim otherwise, but Miguel shakes his head. “However, the pain I feel is not a lie. And we must act as though they are correct, in case they are.” He sighs again, clearing his throat to hide pain from his face. Despite the characterization of their relationship as adversarial by the European press at points in Javier’s life, Miguel truly does want the best for his son. It is why he has done what he has done. Made the arrangements that he has made. “Thirty-five is a good age for a king, Javier. Old enough to have some sense but young enough to make the people feel the invigoration of youth.”

The age-old argument of not wanting to be king doesn’t even slip out of his mouth like it normally would. He can’t. Not when his father is lying in a bed looking much older than he had just the day before. Javi realizes how much pain the older man has been hiding from the world. “Sí.” Javi nods. “You have been a good king papá, the people will miss your guidance.”

Surprised at the lack of protest from his only child, the king pats the mattress beside him, hoping for this conversation to go smoothly. He knows Javier would not choose this life if he had the option - but there is no option. Second in line to the throne is his odious nephew Lucas and if that remained his only option, he would sooner find a way to pass the throne directly to Lucas’s new wife. Gabriela may not have royal blood but at least she has a decent mind behind that lovely face. “Steps will have to be taken, mijo. I will have to abdicate. You will have your coronation. And you will also need a queen.”

Javi frowns sadly, aware that the one woman he had wanted his for queen was now married to his cousin. “You took away my queen when you allowed Lucas to marry her.” He reminds his father bitterly. The woman who he loved had just married two years prior and Lucas was always taunting him that she will be pregnant soon.

“When I told you that you could not marry Gabriela, it was not to be cruel or obtuse.” If he had ever hoped that his son could forgive him over that refusal, apparently the hope was in vain. “A bride was selected for you long ago, mijo. So that you would not have to bear the burden of choice yourself.” He looks to his son with interest, hoping this will not begin a shouting match. “It was your mamá’s dying wish that I secure your future. And it is mine that you honour the promises we have made.”

Javi swears he chokes on air. Gasping and stuttering for a moment, eyes widening in shock. “An arranged marriage?” He huffs, swearing if it were anyone but his father it would be a joke. “No. No.” He shakes his head. “My future has been set from the day I drew breath but now my choice of a wife is taken from me?”

“Choosing a queen is more complex than choosing a wife.” There is the objection Miguel anticipated, even if he must admit to being disappointed by it. “The monarchy’s survival means more than simply whose figure you like the most in an evening gown.”

“My queen.” Javi stresses. “So it should be my choice.” He shakes his head. “I have done what you asked but I want to love the person I take as my queen.”

“How do you know you will not love the girl who has been chosen?” The pain of an arrangement is not exactly unknown to the king. After all, his own match was arranged and so was his father’s. Every crowned prince in their family has had their wife chosen from eligible candidates on their behalf - it was perhaps only that Javier’s match was chosen when he was a bit younger than most.

“How do you know I will?” Javi imagines a woman steeped in tradition and molded by pomp and ceremony. Someone who is rigid, only caring about the legacy she leaves behind. “Just because you came to love mamá doesn’t mean the woman you have chosen to be queen is right for me. Or were you only thinking of the crown?” He asks bitterly.

“I was thinking of finding you a partner.” He admits, knowing that his son’s disgust with the idea will not do well if it lasts. “Someone to help you. To stand beside you and to be your support as you find your footing as king.” The tax of sitting up is too much on an injured body and the king lays his head back down again to continue speaking. “Good breeding is done differently in America, but her family is wealthy and prominent, and the photographs I have seen make her out to be quite beautiful.” When he earns a scoff in return, Miguel sighs. “There is a contract in place, Javier. It is legally binding. And— and she has already been sent for. So there is no use fighting with me about it.”

“You arranged a marriage with an American?” The surprise and wistfulness of the statement catches him off guard, even as he shuffles closer to his ailing father. Miguel Gutierrez has never claimed to understand Javi’s affection with America or American Cinema, although they have shared an affinity for Nick Cage. He reaches out and takes his father’s hand, knowing he won’t fight his papá in his last days. “I hope you have chosen well.” He murmurs softly, wondering what this woman is like. His future queen.

“Her mother was friends with your mother at university.” His son’s affection for American pop culture was something he had attributed to his late wife’s own affection that she gained at university. He never understood it for the life of him, but it made her happy to share it with their young son, so he let it pass. “She will be here tomorrow, provided that she is able to travel quickly. The flight from New York is not too tiresome.”

“Tomorrow? So soon?” Javi shakes his head, reeling from the changes that are happening so quickly. “When— when do I have to marry her?” He asks quietly.

“Before the year is out.” The terms of the agreement with the Senator over the marriage of their children was exacting, to say the least. “Seven months is ample time to know her before you walk down the aisle, Javier. But it is more time than I have. So if you wish me to be present when you wed, it must be sooner.”

Javi closes his eyes, wanting to scream and cry and refuse his father. He cannot. He cannot let down the king, the man who has intimidated him and been his idol for his entire life. “We will be married in two months.” He decides, his voice flat. Certainly not happy about the circumstances, but he wants his father at his wedding, he will already miss his mother. “We will get to know each other later.”

Again it’s surprise that crosses the king’s expression first, but a lifetime of schooling his emotions away means it is gone in the blink of an eye. “Your mother and I tried to do what we thought would be best for you,” he tells his son, seeing the frown that forms on Javier’s lips. “This is the daughter of her most precious friend.” Knowing his penchant for the creative, and trying to provide him with a happy distraction, Miguel reaches and pats his son’s arm. “Would you like to choose the suite she will stay in until the wedding?”

The pout that he hadn’t quite ever grown out of nearly comes to the surface. Instead he just nods, not really caring where the American woman who would be his queen would stay but he knows his father is trying. “I will make sure she is afforded every comfort the palace can offer her.” He tells his father, noticing how tired the old man is. “You should rest.” He urges, covering his father’s surprisingly cold hand with his warmer one.

“Not a word to the staff, mijo.” The king warns, though he does lay back again on his pillows. “Only my private secretary knows who she truly is to you. The rest of the staff are preparing for a close friend.”

“They will figure it out when we have a royal wedding in two months.” Javi snorts, reaching out to cover his father up. “Rest.” He urges softly, his heart breaking but he can’t let the king see that. “I will make sure you are not embarrassed.”

“Javier.” It will be the last thing he says in the subject for now, but he does wish to say one last thing before his son leaves the room. “Try to keep an open mind. An arranged marriage is not the worst fate in the world.”

Instead of answering him, Javi just nods, standing quickly and swallowing. “Get some rest, papá.” He murmurs softly, “I have a guest to prepare for.”

******

There is something to be said for a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, those things cannot be said for you at the moment. Curled up in the apartment you share with your brother, watching a late-night movie with a bottle of wine and a seemingly bottomless bowl of popcorn, you know you ought to be sleeping before your father’s re-election fundraiser tomorrow but you just can’t seem to quiet your mind. Today - yesterday in Mallorca - was his birthday. Another year gone by and another year closer to the impending details of the contract that has dictated your entire life.

You wonder how he celebrated. What sort of party he had, if any. If birthday cake is the same in the Balearic Islands as it is here. The internet doesn’t really have answers to these questions and you never had the courage to ask your mother for details of her lost friend’s life. You should have. But you didn’t.

The things you know about Prince Javier are finite, and you have studied them for decades. Which should be proven by the fact that you’re up late tonight watching National Treasure for the umpteenth time. When your cell phone rings halfway through the film, you mute the television and pick it up immediately. No one calls in the middle of the night unless it’s an emergency.

Private. Mallorca reads the caller ID. “Oh shit…” You murmur to yourself before sitting up straight on the couch and sliding your thumb across the screen to accept the call.

“Hello?”

Your name is spoken in a clear, Spanish accent, “Please hold for the King of the Balearic Islands, His Majesty, King Miguel.” The private secretary of the king announces him before muting the phone so she can pass it to the king.

“Uh—” Dumbstruck, you nearly spill your wine trying to set it down on the coffee table as though it were a video call or the king himself were right in front of you. He has only called you twice before - when you turned eighteen and then when you graduated college - and the last was several years ago. It sort of feels like suffocating, honestly, waiting for him to pick up the line, but you manage to breathe evenly until you hear a voice on the other end again.

“Hello?” Miguel says your name and waits for you to acknowledge him.

“Good morning, your Majesty.” Glancing at the clock, you quickly calculate it to be half past seven in Mallorca. “To what do I owe the honor of this call?”

Miguel takes a moment, composing himself after another brief flare of pain. “I hope you are doing well.” He offers. “The time has come for you to join the royal family in Mallorca. How soon can you be here if we send the jet?”

The time has come. The words seem to drown you, swallowing you up in duty and anticipation. “I will need a day to pack my things,” you tell him as politely as you can, hoping that you don’t sound as scared as you feel. The anticipation of an abrupt call like this one is why nothing in your life truly belongs to you - your apartment, your car, and all of your bills are under your father’s name so he can sell everything after you are called away to fulfill your duty. You’ll have to quit your job with no notice, but that’s a separate issue. “But one day should be sufficient.” Just one day to pack up your whole life.

“I shall have the jet sent first thing in the morning. It will be a direct flight so it should not be too long.” Miguel keeps his voice as steady as he can manage it. “My son will be informed of your impending arrival as soon as we disconnect.”

“As your Majesty sees fit.” It’s an odd thing, to speak to the man who holds an iron fist on your future, but you’ve grown up your entire life knowing that one day this would happen. To be honest you’re surprised it has taken so long.

“We will speak again soon.” Miguel promises, disconnecting the phone and then shouting for the doctor to come back into the room. The pain is worse and he needs him to manage it. There is another; more difficult conversation ahead with his son.

You exhale deeply, staring at your phone as the disconnecting line beeps and goes blank, bringing back your home screen with the background photo of the last beach that you went to with friends from college. Everyone is spread out over the blankets with picnic baskets and umbrellas while they laugh in the summer sun. It had been an amazing time – and now as you look at it you wonder if you'll ever be able to have days like that again. If your freedom, such as it ever was, has just been plucked away with one phone call. Still, despite the time, you have a call of your own to make. Opening your contacts, you select the entry for your father and stepmother's landline and hope that the ringing doesn't wake up your little sister. The preteen is a nightmare if she doesn't get enough sleep, and you don't blame her one bit.

The call is picked up on the second ring. “Hello?” The austere voice of your father comes down the line. “What is going on?” He knows you don’t call at late hours unless it is an emergency. “What do you need?”

"I need to come by the house tomorrow and pick up my trunks." Although you can feel your voice waver, you hope your father is too disoriented from being woken up to hear it. He raised you to be strong and to take on responsibility headfirst. "And I can't come to the fundraiser tomorrow." Deep breath, you remind yourself. "I've finally been summoned."

Silence fills the air between you for a good thirty seconds before the senator answers. “That is very good. It is past time.” The bedsheets rustle and he pulls the phone away from his ear to murmur to his wife. “We will draft a press release as soon as you are in Mallorca.”

"I only have one day to pack." Which means, you know yourself well enough to realize, that you'll be starting immediately. There's no way you'll be able to sleep. "So I was thinking I could drive out to Scarsdale to have breakfast with you and come home with the trunks to make sure I have enough time. Is that okay?"

Sighing, your father mentally files through his schedule. “That will be fine, I have a meeting at 9:30 though.”

"Okay. I'll be punctual." It never would have crossed your mind to be anything else. Not with the way your family operates. Scheduling is everything when your father is a senator. "I'm sorry to wake you, but I thought it was important for you to know right away."

“I appreciate the call.” Your father sighs softly and there’s another small pause. “Go on and start working on your packing list, I know you want to get organized.”

"There's a lot to do." That may be an understatement, but you're nodding as though he were standing in front of you. "I'll see you in a few hours for breakfast."

“See you then sweetheart.” The phone disconnects and your father sighs again before he climbs out of the bed. He will need to draft a press release and start working on the PR for his campaign. This announcement couldn’t come at a better time for him, and he intends to use it to his advantage. Perhaps it might even put him in the running for President.

******

It took every second of the time that you had to get things ready to leave even with your brother’s help, but in the end you drove to the private airstrip at JFK airport with an SUV full of your things and left behind an apartment that barely had a single trace of you left in it. What little you have left behind would be kept by your brother, sold, or saved for your half-sister depending on what you father saw fit.

The crew of the jet was very kind in loading your things on board and seemed to expect you to have much more, but you had kept things contained for exactly this purpose. At any point in your life you would be expected to pick up and move your entire existence across an ocean, so you had kept things contained.

The eight-hour flight would put you in Palma, Mallorca in time for dinner and you know that between not sleeping for the last two days and the jet lag, you'll desperately need to sleep on the jet. Hopefully you won't be too anxious to sleep. That would just make things that much worse.

******

“I am meeting her at the airport.” Javi isn’t shouting, but his voice has pitched up to match the same inflection as his father. Met with resistance when he announced that he would take the boat over to the private air strip to meet the woman who is to become his bride without the fan fair or pomp and circumstance that normally surrounds these affairs. “You wanted to keep people from knowing, it will be suspicious if I am in my formal royal uniform.”

"Why can you not let someone from staff fetch her and meet her properly here?" Miguel is exasperated beyond measure, having had both of his suggestions met with rejection from his son. Javier refuses to be in uniform to meet his intended and he refuses to receive the girl in the throne room. He insists on dressing down in a veritable disguise and going to the airport quietly himself. "I understand that you wish to meet her quickly and I commend that, but your position matters, Javier."

“Of course my position matters.” Javi huffs. “That is all that matters. But I am meeting her casually. I want to know what she thinks of this, of me, without any pretense or need for propriety.” He’s worried that you might be dreading this, resenting him once he had learned of the details of this arrangement. He would like to know if he is to be sentenced to a life of passive aggressive comments and resentment.

The king purses his lips, seeing from the clock on his bedside that time is running short to make this decision. "Fine." He concedes shortly. "But take enough staff with you to have her things brought to the palace separately. If you wish to have a conversation with her then you can bring her back to the palace and show her her rooms properly dressed. If not in uniform, then at least not looking like you've just come out of the pool." Clearly indicating he means that he disapproves of what his son is currently wearing, Miguel nods and sits up a little more in his bed. "Something that would be appropriate to wear at the dinner table, since you will be escorting her directly after showing her to her new home."

Javi sighs and nods. “I will even wear a sports jacket, your majesty.” He huffs sarcastically, annoyed that even meeting you is turning into an argument. He doesn’t want to be so stiff and formal all the time. Royals need to relax as well.

"Good." Glancing at the clock again, the king waves him off. "Go and change, then. You should be on your way."

Rolling his eyes again, Javi turns around and stalks out of his father’s bedchamber. Annoyed with himself and the king. Why must their relationship be so strained? Why is he so different from the man who had sired him? He wonders what this woman will think of him, already deciding he’s going to dress causally chic for the meeting.

******

The chance to wash and change and touch up your makeup on the flight after waking up from a six-hour nap was something you hadn’t expected and are grateful for. The simple but well-tailored white sundress you had chosen to make your first impression on the prince could be put on just thirty minutes before landing instead of being thrown on in the airport bathroom so that it wouldn’t wrinkle after hours on the plane. Everyone on board was so kind and so formal that you have to wonder if any of them knew who you were or if that was simply how they were trained. Either way, when you exit the jet’s cabin to come down the stairs with your travel bag in hand, there is just one person waiting for you. In a powder blue sport coat and linen shirt with perfectly tousled hair, he looks like he ought to be a model and not - you assume - palace staff. Sunglasses shield his eyes but he stands straight and watches you expectantly, suddenly making you question if you even know how to walk down stairs at all.

You are…beautiful. He expected his parents to have chosen someone with all the right characteristics and the right schooling, but the sheer force of your beauty nearly takes his breath away. His father will approve of your outfit, the white dress both prim and proper enough to be considered appropriate and yet Javi likes that you are showing some skin. The length of your arms on display and the legs both making him smile at the idea that maybe you are not as stuffy as he might have feared. “Welcome to las Islas Baleares.” He offers as you stride close. The staff rush to get your luggage and he gestures towards the boat swaying gracefully at the dock. “We have a short boat ride to the palace.”

“Muchas gracias.” As hard as you’re trying not to smile, this man that has been sent to receive you is incredibly handsome. His hair and stature remind you of the very few pictures you’ve seen of the prince, and you wonder if perhaps this man is a cousin. Some lower-level royal sent to be a one-man welcoming committee. “Everyone has been so very kind. I’m grateful to have such a personal welcome.”

He cannot tell if you are being sarcastic or not, figuring that you have recognized him. “Sí.” He simply nods his head and gestures for you to precede him. He will need to help you into the boat and then cast off the lines, preferring to operate the speeder himself.

The man’s silence is surprising but you try not to read into it too much as he walks you to a nearby ramp that leads down to a small boat dock with an elegant speeder moored at the tip. The crystal-clear ocean spreads out around you like its own kind of welcoming and you smile. “The evenings are very beautiful here.” Weather. Weather is safe small talk. “Are the days just as gorgeous?”

“Better.” Javi promises, holding out his hand when you stop next to the boat so he can assist you inside. “Not too hot, not too cold, just right.” He smirks slightly, remembering the childhood story about porridge.

“I have to admit, I won’t miss winter.” Putting your hand in his to accept help into the boat gives you a nearly electric shock that you beg your body to ignore. There is no room to be attracted to anyone but Prince Javier. It’s impossible, you remind yourself harshly.

Javi ignores how warm and soft your hands are, quickly bending down to untie the boat before jumping in beside you. Occupying himself with starting the engines and pulling away from the dock, he knows the staff will ferry your luggage over on the other tender. For now, he wants the race the boat over the waters to calm down his own rattled nerves.

His continued silence signals that the weather isn’t worth talking about, and you fall into an uneasy quiet as the boat speeds out into open water. You have about three million questions but know that you can’t ask them of just anyone. It wouldn’t be proper or ladylike to ramble on, and from the moment you stepped onto that jet at JFK you have done your utmost to be perfectly ladylike. Without knowing who knows what or what is truly expected of you beyond marrying a total stranger to produce royal heirs, you feel like the water might be in your lungs instead of under the boat. Your palms are sweaty and you twist the decorative ring on your finger nervously. At least it’s beautiful here - it would have been cruel if you had to spend the rest of your life someplace frozen when you notoriously dislike snow.

He looks back at you a few times, gauging if you like the water. Finding you looking pensive so he doesn’t speak. Not wanting to make you even more nervous if you aren’t impressed with his boating skills. Or him. Instead he throttles down as the palace comes into view, aware that everyone, even him, likes to take in the majestic site of the Balearic Islands seat of power.

When you first take in the sight of the palace standing high on the cliffside, you gasp audibly before you can stop yourself or muffle the sound. It’s truly remarkable - this medieval edifice that has survived through hundreds of years and countless occupants, and you can’t help but stare. No photograph could ever do it justice, and you’ve seen every single photograph. That is where you live now. That’s home. Unless you fuck up spectacularly and he sends you away in disgrace. Oh god. Don’t fuck up like that. “It’s…amazing,” you murmur, realizing that your escort has turned to see your reaction.

“Castel de Ocaso. The royal palace of Mallorca.” Javi announces. “Home of King Miguel Gutierrez and the crowned Prince Javier. Soon to be king along with you, his queen.” He offers before he throttles up slightly to guide the boat into the Royal docks.

“Soon to be?” You startle at that news, feeling your eyes go wide behind your sunglasses. The king had certainly failed to mention that when he called. “I—I did not think…You know who I am?”

Javi laughs for a moment but then he stops, realizing that you don’t know who he is. “Sí.” He nods, turning back around to ease the boat alongside the stone dock. “I know who you are.”

“Forgive me, I just…” It’s like your mouth has run dry and your head is spinning, except you know it’s only nerves. “I was under the impression it was not common knowledge. That only the king and Prince Javier knew.”

He hums, cutting the engine and letting the boat float up next to the dock expertly. Moving to toss the lines to the staff waiting on the pier to tie off. “Come.” He offers, stepping up off the boat and holding his hand down to you. “The king is waiting.”

“May I ask you about him?” Those innumerable questions are all bubbling to the surface as he helps you out of the boat, and you now feel even more sure that his must be a trusted family member that was sent to fetch you. “The prince, I mean?”

“What do you wish to know?” He asks, raising a brow in interest. Curious to know what questions burn in your mind about him.

“Is he a kind man?” You’ve seen official photos and been told what he likes – practically every birthday gift that you’ve ever received from King Miguel was something that Javier liked – but the question of his temperament is completely unknown to you.

“I would say so.” He offers, wanting you to open up more. “Shall we go up to the palace?”

“Thank you.” You nod politely and try to ignore the tingling in your skin at the small touch of hands. Once you’re up the stone steps built in to the cliffside, you look up at the palace again and remind yourself to smile. “Is the prince…” The curiosity is overwhelming. “Is he…shy? Outgoing? Is he a very social man?”

“Ask the questions you really want to ask.” Javi urges you, knowing that there are only a few more moments before propriety will be deemed necessary.

“It’s just…” This man is offering you just enough of a lingering lifeline that your curiosity just can’t say no to it. “It’s just that I’ve never seen photographs of him with friends o-or girlfriends.” You swallow. Hard. “Or boyfriends. And I just…I wondered if…if he…prefers women?” That might be one of the things that terrifies you most. The idea that this marriage was arranged to force him to be with a woman when he’s actually gay.

Javi chuckles. “Women.” He promises. “There is much emphasis on not causing a scandal for the crown.”

“I understand that entirely.” There was plenty of emphasis on that for you growing up as well. “Forgive me if that’s too personal. I just would never want to make him uncomfortable.” An awkward laugh passes your lips and you shrug slightly. “Hopefully just the fact of me doesn’t make him uncomfortable.”

“You care about the Prince’s comfort?” That surprises him, and it’s rather sweet. It is rare that someone cares about someone they’ve never met before, not even someone who was going to marry. You are guaranteed a crown, why would you care about the man placing it on your head?

"Of course." The idea that you wouldn't is fairly shocking to you, if you're honest. "Everyone deserves to be happy, don't they? Especially with the people closest to them. I mean...this arrangement...it's not something either of us chose. What good would it do for us to hate each other?"

“And you?” Javi turns to face you. “You would choose another without a crown? A woman?” The idea that you might be repulsed by men is one that flashes in his mind and it would be a miserably cold marriage if that were the case.

"No." The idea of having a choice is almost incomprehensible if you're honest, but you can only shake your head now. It's not as though you weren't allowed to date, it was just that no one you ever went out with was ever going to last. And if you had been found out to have slept with any of them, your father probably would have disowned you. "I mean I'm interested in men and from all the photos I've seen of the prince he's very attractive, I just...this arrangement was made on our behalf. And I would hate to think that he is dreading my arrival when I'm actually excited to finally meet him." Excited and terrified, but the terror will be kept private. This man does not need to know about your anxiety or your fear.

“Excited?” He tilts his head curiously and smirks. “Why are you excited? You are not worried? I would be.”

"Excitement and worry are two sides of the same coin." That's honest, at least, and very true. You're definitely both. "It's hard to be excited to meet the person you're supposed to spend your life with without also being at least a little worried about disappointing them. That...I guess that's why I'm so curious about him."

“No other questions?” He asks playfully. “Nothing at all?”

"I wouldn't want to be inappropriate." For all you know, you've already overstepped and offended this man or even the prince by accident by asking anything at all.

Javi snorts and shakes his head. “Of course.” He murmurs, slightly disappointed by the way you seemingly cling to propriety.

"It's just...there are personal things that I would prefer to ask him in privacy." Probably your imagination, is what it is, but when he pouts slightly you have the almost unhinged urge to hug him. "I'm so sorry. I never even asked your name and here I am asking questions about someone else entirely."

Javi had turned away, prepared to climb the stairs carved into the cliff to enter the palace but you give him the opening that he wants. Turning around, he pulls off his sunglasses and gives you a small smile. “I am Javi.”

"Oh shit." The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them and your eyes widen even more, with your entire body burning in embarrassment. Dropping down into possibly the least elegant curtsy of all time, you thankfully manage not to fall over but secretly wish you'd just topple right back over the edge of the cliff behind you. "I—I mean...I'm sorry, your Highness. I...apparently didn't recognize you." And went and made an idiot out of yourself in the process. Fucking hell...

“Obviously.” He smothers the grin and returns your curtsy with a formal bow and looks back up at you. “Now, what questions may I answer for you? Anything at all, since we are to be married.”

"How long have you known about me?" It slips out of you before you can think of anything more articulate or more interesting to ask not that you're standing face to face with him. At least you have the presence of mind to take off your own sunglasses and tuck them away in your bag.

“Two days.” Javi frowns, shaking his head slightly. “My father decided that I would learn of you the day he sent for you so I apologize that I do not know more than you are American and your name.”

"Two days?" It makes your heart sink in a way that you hadn't expected, and you can feel your shoulders roll in on themselves slightly before you push them back again. Ladies don't slouch says your father's voice in your head. "I've known about you almost my entire life."

“And you are…disappointed?” He asks softly. His entire life he had been compared to his father and been found wanting, why would the woman he was supposed to marry think any better of him?

"What? No!" When you look up again he's frowning so deeply that you have that overwhelming urge again to just wrap your arms around him and squeeze. Unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately for propriety - you're frozen on the spot. "I just can't believe that your father didn't tell you. Our parents made the arrangement when I was so little that I've just...always known this would happen one day."

“My father- it’s complicated.” He sighs softly, slightly relieved that you aren’t disappointed. “I am sorry, I meant to just meet you casually, not mislead you as to who I was. It was very nice to realize you didn’t recognize me.”

"I thought you might have been your own cousin or something," you admit sheepishly, instantly wishing you hadn't said anything at all. "You have...very nice hair. I thought it might be a family trait."

“You like my hair?” Javi’s eyes widen slightly and he almost reaches up. “I like that you are wearing a dress that is not stuffy.” He admits.

"It's one of my favourites." That's why you chose it, really. To really look and feel like yourself the first time you met him. "You like it? I—I have more like it."

He nods. “It’s very nice. Perfect for an evening in Mallorca.”

"Is there anything you want to know about me?" Since he hasn't known about you for long, that means that anything about you that might have been communicated between your fathers is probably unknown to him.

“Endless questions.” Javi admits with a grin. “But the king is waiting for your arrival.” He bites his lip and decides to be honest. “My father is sick. So he will only meet with you for a few minutes.”

"I'm so sorry to hear that." The unconscious step you take toward him is like the pull of a magnet. "That's why you said soon to be king when we met, isn't it?"

“We – my father is stepping down.” Javi confesses. “And we will be married in two months’ time. I want— he needs—” Javi swallows, unable to speak the words that his father needed it to be quick. “He has few months left.”

"I see." Vivid flashes of your own mother's funeral burst in your mind but you swallow and reach out to touch his arm gently. "If two months is too long for him, just name the day." This is a commitment that you've been preparing yourself for, for your whole life. If it happens fast, then it happens fast.

“We will discuss it with him.” Javi is grateful that you understand and he covers your hand with his for a brief moment.

This time when his touch makes your skin prick, you accept it wholeheartedly. It's a giddiness in the pit of your stomach that feels a bit shallow but at the same time you can't help but be grateful for. He's incredibly attractive in person, now that you see his whole face, and you fluster a little as the two of you turn to continue walking to the palace together. "So...do you prefer to be called Javi?" You ask after a moment, remembering that he hadn't used his full name when he revealed himself to you.

“I do, Javier is too formal.” He makes a face before he frowns. “My father feels as if I am too relaxed for the throne, that I need to be more rigid, but I do not think it must be so serious all the time.”

"It's good to have someone that you can let down your guard with." That frown makes him look a bit like a sweet, discontented puppy, but at the same time you can't help hoping that you don't see it too often. "I hope that...in time...you might feel that you can be yourself with me."

“You have known about me your entire life?” He asks curiously. “And you agreed to marry a stranger?” There’s no judgement, but he finds it odd that someone so beautiful would agree to this.

"I think we must be a few years apart in age." It seems odd to tell him that you know his exact birthday and secretly always have a little cupcake that day in his honor. "You were a preteen when our parents made the contract. I was in pre-school." The slight shrug you offer says that it doesn't bother you anymore. It is simply a fact. "So I grew up knowing that one day - any day - I might get a phone call to come here and marry you."

“You have never…wanted more?” He asks, wishing that you weren’t so close to the doors. “For yourself?”

"More?" More than being royalty? That would make you about the most demanding and highest reaching person in the world, you think. Certainly it would be a rather extreme expectation. "More than what? I mean, I liked my job and all, but I tend to think I could do a lot more good here than just being an organizer for a non-profit back in New York." Or did he mean more than him? That actually makes you frown instead. "If you mean...personally? All I want is someone who loves me. And if that can't be you...well, you'll be king soon. You can make whatever decision you want."

“There— there is no divorce for the royal family.” Javi reveals, relieved, that it’s not the crown that you wished for, but love. “Once we are married, that’s it.” He might not agree with arranged marriages but he respected the crown and tradition enough that he would not make a mockery of it.

This particular fact has never been related to you so cleanly, but always sort of hinted at. And now that you’re hearing it directly from him, it seems almost foreboding. Like he is trying to see if you can be warned off. “The only expectation I have had for my life is to come here to marry you,” you tell him, fingers twisting around each other nervously. “I am prepared to do it. But if you decide that you don’t like me for some reason…” The possibility is surprisingly devastating to you, now that you’ve met him and feel strings of actual attraction for the man. He seems genuinely sweet. And is incredibly handsome. “If you decide you do not like me, then it is up to you what happens afterward. But I hope that that is not something we will have to think about.”

Javi shakes his head, no longer as resistant to the idea now that he had seen you in person. “My father has assured me that the contract is binding and it would be dishonorable for me to back out of this.” He gives you a nervous smile. “I just— I hope that I do not disappoint you. Our monarchy isn’t like England’s. We are the government and our people are very much our interest. We are small on the world stage.”

“That sounds vastly preferable, if I’m honest.” You’ve lingered outside one of the many palace doors for a few minutes now, and though you’re still nervous it’s slightly different than when you first arrived. “I hope that we can at least be friends? I would hate to be a disappointment to you, either. And I know that you did not ask for this.”

“We will have more time to get to know one another very well.” Javi acknowledges, opening the door for you to enter the palace. “Welcome home, Princess.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javi Gutierrez #Javi Gutierrez x you #Javi Gutierrez x reader #Javi Gutierrez x female reader #Javi Gutierrez x f!reader #royalty au #arranged marriage #tw cancer

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rafesgoldrings · 1 year

Note

Rafe x trophy wife where an employee talks down to the reader (not knowing who she is or how much power she holds) and she goes along with it, pretending to not know anything about Rafe’s business until the man himself, aka her husband walks in at just the right time where the employee is calling the reader a dumb bitch for not knowing anything 👀

The guy had to be new because there’s no way one of the employees that had been there for awhile would even think about speaking to you that way, let alone actually say it to your face. It was subtle at first, each time he saw you grabbing the papers from your desk he’d offer to help you out. You thought he was just being nice after seeing the large stack of paper you had, but then he started saying snarky remarks to you. Any meeting you had with him was always full of something along the lines of ‘the adults are speaking sweetheart, why don’t you go get us some coffee and let us do our jobs’ and it took everything in you to not slap him. But you were smarter than that, smarter than him, and knew that if you planned it out, Rafe would catch him and the guy would quickly learn why he shouldn’t talk down to his fellow co workers. You sent Rafe a quick text asking him to come to your desk so you could give him something, and that wasn’t necessarily a lie…it was just a very early birthday gift that you conveniently decided to give him when you saw the asshole co worker approaching. You purposely sent him an email containing the wrong information about one of the sales Rafe made knowing it would set him off. The perfect plan to get this asshole caught. You’d gotten a reply saying he was on his way and smirked, setting your phone down and watching as the guy walked closer and closer. “Do you realize what you the hell you just did?” his face red and voice slightly raised. “No, did I do something wrong?” your eyebrows scrunched in confusion, a total look of absolute innocence on your face. You bit back a smile watching his nostrils flare, jaw clenching and chest rising with every increasing breath. “God you’re such a dumb bitch. You don’t know anything about this company. The only thing you’re good for is being the young hot thing in the office with good tits and a good ass who’s cu-“ a loud booming voice cutting him short. A smug look on your face as the guys face paled and eyes widened. Nobody wants their boss to address them in that way. That means they did something they shouldn’t have and are about to be fired. “Who the fuck do you think you are talking to my wife like that?” he looked down at your hand, noticing the giant diamond ring on your finger and name tag on your desk. ‘Y/N Cameron’ oh fuck. He tried to stammer his way through an explanation, he didn’t know who you were and he was sorry. But Rafe didn’t care, nobody disrespected his wife. You worked your ass off to help him and worked your ass off before he’d even married you to help his company. You were his equal, you deserved the same respect. “I-I’m sorry sir I don’t fucking care. Say you’re sorry and then get the hell out” apparently he didn’t move quick enough because Rafe grabbed him by the back of the neck and harshly pinned him against your desk. He cried out apologies before Rafe threw him to the ground, telling him to get the hell out of his building before he had him thrown out. He wasted no time scrambling to his feet and running out the doors, not even bothering to grab his stuff. You could only bite your lip and smirk, clenching your thighs together. There was something so hot about Rafe protecting you, he walked over to you and grabbed your hand. He’d place a gentle kiss to it and apologize for the employees behavior to which you promised him it was okay, it wasn’t his fault. The gift you wanted to give him? The very same gift you used to lure him in? A remote control to your new vibrating panties. “You’re going to kill me princess, but not before I have you on your knees in front of me. Crying, begging me to stop after about your 20th orgasm”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #trophy wife! reader x rafe #asks <3

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ripleyresonance · 5 months

Text

Sweet Enough to Eat pt 2

Sugar Mommy Rhea! x OC

Part 1

Thank you guys so much for all of the love on the first chapter. Typically I am a one-shot Sm*t kind of girl but let's see where this story takes us. And don't worry I will still post some one-shots in between.

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As the two sat across from each other at a quaint cafe Cali’s mind was racing. She looked down at her freshly manicured nails tracing the outline of her stiletto acrylics with her thumb as Rhea sat down.

“I ordered you a mimosa...I know it's 2 pm but I say we celebrate our new…relationship.” Rhea smiled.

Cali blinked a couple of times studying the woman's face to see any doubt and yet the woman was dead serious.

“So I was thinking we could talk about the…finer details?” Rhea winked finally pulling Cali out of her shock.

Cali was a lot of things but when it came down to “business” she could put everything else aside.

“My weekly fee is 3k but if you do monthly I can let it slide to 10k,” Cali said taking a sip from her glass.

Rhea laughed causing Cali to lift an eyebrow.

“Sweet girl, I don't know what these other “Mami’s” gave you but I don't have a “Limit”. You like it I get it no question asked,” Rhea said.

“So I can tell you I want a Gucci bag because my head hurts and boom you get it?” Cali questioned.

“I think that is a pretty valid reason to buy a bag” Rhea shrugged.

Cali’s mood shifted a bit…maybe she wanted to emphasize the sugar aspect of this relationship.

“And you expect me to be… “available” all the time? Cali whispered admittedly afraid of the answer.

“Available?” Rhea repeated.

“Like in the sugar capacity?” Cali said looking into Rhea's eyes as hers went wide.

“Oh god no that's not what I meant, I meant it in more of the way that you should be able to have everything you want without strings attached…well, I guess some strings because I want you to travel with me sometimes or be there when I come home but not make you think you have to have sex with me for it! It is not like I would mind I mean look at you, you are stunning but if we did that I would rather it be”- Rhea studdered as Cali burst out laughing.

Rhea seemed very flirty and direct from all their interactions so far so seeing her loose composure made her comfortable again.

“Alright then no sugar…for now. Any other terms you would like?” Cali smiled at her seemingly making Rhea blush.

“Let's start the deal by making the contract last a year. Therefore if you don't like it or I don't like it we can go our separate ways. I just expect you to show up for me when I ask and I will give you the world. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?” Rhea smiled extending her hand.

Cali returned the smile placing her hand in Rheas as she lightly kissed Cali’s hand sealing the deal.

Cali rolled her eyes that time making the Australian laugh.

“What the hell was that for you can’t already be exasperated with me,” Rhea said.

“Sorry, you just go from so smooth and flirty to the most fuck boy gestures.” Cali laughed causing Rhea to gasp dramatically.

“I will have you know that women usually love gestures like that,” Rhea said.

“So you have done that to other women…like I said, fuckboy.” Cali playfully waved her off as she stood up.

“And yet, it seems like you like that,” Rhea said pulling her into her lap. “Cali” Rhea whispered in her ear.

Cali felt her cheeks heating up as she playfully pushed her shoulder.

‘Hey hey! No sugar for you, YOUR rule.” Cali said standing up and fixing her skirt.

“Plus I saw this bracelet in a window we passed move it “Mami”. Cali grinned.

The two spent the day together Cali buying an impressive amount of stuff. To be honest she was not the most high-maintenance sugar baby. But after not having funds for a few months she went a little crazy. She started feeling bad as Rhea made her fifth trip from her car to Cali’s apartment.

“I'm so sorry it’s such a mess in here,” Cali said frantically, trying to clean up some magazines on the ground and a pizza box on her table.

Cali had originally been given this apartment by one of her sugar mommy’s. It was beautiful. It had a loft that was covered with plants. As the sun went down you could see the golden light reflecting off of every potted plant making a mix of colors shine through the apartment. But something about the large space seemed…cold.

Rhea watched as Cali frantically ran around. She made a note to herself of the look on her face of embarrassment as she tried to hide her mess. And Rhea found it adorable.

“Please sit anywhere you like I think I have a cabernet I flew in a while ago from France,” Cali said grabbing two wine glasses.

“It’s a nice place,” Rhea remarked.

“I know right? I have had some wild nights here..some mornings too.” Cali laughed.

“It just seems so…” Rhea trailed off

“Luxurious, sophisticated, stunning?” Cali smiled strolling over with the wine.

“Lonely” Rhea whispered making Cali pause.

“It’s not that bad! I am told I throw the best parties everyone talks about them the next day.” Cali cleared her throat setting the glasses down.

“But when they leave…” Rhea prodded.

“What is this the pity party or something? I said I was lonely last night because I was drunk and look It led me to you.” Cali winked trying to change the subject.

“And we are both the better for it.” Rhea conceded.

Cali smiled at the response picking up her wine glass to toast.

“To a new relationship,” Cali stated.

‘To new beginnings.” Rhea said as they lightly clinked their glasses.

Cali made sure to cover her emotions with particular care but Rhea noticed immediately something she couldn’t hide from.

No matter how many parties she had, bodies rushed in and out of the apartment. Cali tried to hide it by liking nice things, but she wanted someone to see her for who she was.

In that moment Rhea made it a priority. In this year she would see it. She would see Cali’s true self.

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nostalgebraist · 1 year

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@oakfern replied to your post “it's going to be fun to watch the realization...”:

i feel like this is going to play out very similarly to voice assistants. there was a huge boom in ASR research, the products got a lot of hype, and they actually sold decently (at least alexa did). but 10 years on, they've been a massive failure, costing way more than they ever made back. even if ppl do think chatbot search engines are exciting and cool, it's not going to bring in more users or sell more products, and in the end it will just be a financial loss

(Responding to this a week late)

I don't know much about the history of voice assistants. Are there any articles you recommend on the topic? Sounds interesting.

ETA: Iater, I found and read this article from Nov 2022, which reports that Alexa and co. still can't turn a profit after many years of trying.

But anyway, yeah... this is why I don't have a strong sense of how widespread/popular these "generative AI" products will be a year or two from now. Or even five years from now.

(Ten years from now? Maybe we can trust the verdict will be in at that point... but the tech landscape of 2033 is going to be so different from ours that the question "did 'generative AI' take off or not?" will no doubt sound quaint and irrelevant.)

Remember when self-driving cars were supposed to be right around the corner? Lots of people took this imminent self-driving future seriously.

And I looked at it, and thought "I don't get it, this problem seems way harder than people are giving it credit for. And these companies show no signs of having discovered some clever proprietary way forward." If people asked me about it, that's what I would say.

But even if I was sure that self-driving cars wouldn't arrive on schedule, that didn't give me much insight into the fate of "self-driving cars," the tech sector meme. It wasn't like there was some specific deadline, and when we crossed it everyone was going to look up and say "oh, I guess that didn't work, time to stop investing."

The influx of capital -- and everything downstream from it, the trusting news stories, the prominence of the "self-driving car future" in the public mind, the seriousness which it was talked about -- these things went on, heedless of anything except their own mysterious internal logic.

They went on until . . . what? The pandemic, probably? I actually still don't know.

Something definitely happened:

In 2018 analysts put the market value of Waymo LLC, then a subsidiary of Alphabet Inc., at $175 billion. Its most recent funding round gave the company an estimated valuation of $30 billion, roughly the same as Cruise. Aurora Innovation Inc., a startup co-founded by Chris Urmson, Google’s former autonomous-vehicle chief, has lost more than 85% since last year [i.e. 2021] and is now worth less than $3 billion. This September a leaked memo from Urmson summed up Aurora’s cash-flow struggles and suggested it might have to sell out to a larger company. Many of the industry’s most promising efforts have met the same fate in recent years, including Drive.ai, Voyage, Zoox, and Uber’s self-driving division. “Long term, I think we will have autonomous vehicles that you and I can buy,” says Mike Ramsey, an analyst at market researcher Gartner Inc. “But we’re going to be old.”

Whatever killed the "self-driving car" meme, though, it wasn't some newly definitive article of proof that the underlying ideas were flawed. The ideas never made sense in the first place. The phenomenon was not really about the ideas making sense.

Some investors -- with enough capital, between them, to exert noticable distortionary effects on entire business sectors -- decided that "self-driving cars" were, like, A Thing now. And so they were, for a number of years. Huge numbers of people worked very hard trying to make "self-driving cars" into a viable product. They were paid very well to do. Talent was diverted away from other projects, en masse, into this effort. This went on as long as the investors felt like sustaining it, and they were in no danger of running out of money.

Often the "tech sector" feels less like a product of free-market incentives than it does like a massive, weird, and opaque public works product, orchestrated by eccentrics like Masayoshi Son, and ultimately organized according to the aesthetic proclivities and changing moods of its architects, not for the purpose of "doing business" in the conventional sense.

Gig economy delivery apps (Uber Eats, Doordash, etc.) have been ubiquitous for years, and have reported huge losses in every one of those years.

This entertaining post from 2020 about "pizza arbitrage" asks:

Which brings us to the question - what is the point of all this? These platforms are all losing money. Just think of all the meetings and lines of code and phone calls to make all of these nefarious things happen which just continue to bleed money. Why go through all this trouble?

Grubhub just lost $33 million on $360 million of revenue in Q1.

Doordash reportedly lost an insane $450 million off $900 million in revenue in 2019 (which does make me wonder if my dream of a decentralized network of pizza arbitrageurs does exist).

Uber Eats is Uber's "most profitable division” 😂😂. Uber Eats lost $461 million in Q4 2019 off of revenue of $734 million. Sometimes I need to write this out to remind myself. Uber Eats spent $1.2 billion to make $734 million. In one quarter.

And now, in February 2023?

DoorDash's total orders grew 27% to 467 million in the fourth quarter. That beat Wall Street’s forecast of 459 million, according to analysts polled by FactSet. Fourth quarter revenue jumped 40% to $1.82 billion, also ahead of analysts’ forecast of $1.77 billion.

But profits remain elusive for the 10-year-old company. DoorDash said its net loss widened to $640 million, or $1.65 per share, in the fourth quarter as it expanded into new categories and integrated Wolt into its operations.

Do their investors really believe these companies are going somewhere, and just taking their time to get there? Or is this more like a subsidy? The lost money (a predictable loss in the long term) merely the price paid for a desired good -- for an intoxicating exercise of godlike power, for the chance to reshape reality to one's whims on a large scale -- collapsing the usual boundary between self and outside, dream and reality? "The gig economy is A Thing, now," you say, and wave your hand -- and so it is.

Some people would pay a lot of money to be a god, I would think.

Anyway, "generative AI" is A Thing now. It wasn't A Thing a year ago, but now it is. How long will it remain one? The best I can say is: as long as the gods are feeling it.

#oakfern #ai tag

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yoonieper · 2 years

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His Majesty | KNJ

Come and serve your King.

・❥・ Pairing: King!Namjoon x Maid!Reader

・❥・ Genre: smut, angst, a tiny bit of fluff

・❥・ Rated: B for Bow

・❥・ Warnings: cheating, oral (m+f receiving), clothes are ripped, bondage, spanking, exhibitionism, unprotected sex (this the past, but not you <3), joon’s a little too hot in this one, get your fans ready

・❥・ Word Count: 9.6k

・❥・ Summary: His majesty was always fond of you. Little glances here, longing touches there, it was obvious something was going on. When the Queen left the kingdom for a little while, it was finally time. He could finally have you the way he wanted.

・❥・ Collab: This is part of @erotikkook Kingdom collab! My first collab piece, yay! Thank you so much Levi for finally giving me a reason to write this lol! Please check out the other stories as well!

・❥・ Now Playing: Earned It by The Weeknd

・❥・ Beta: @xxxanimangxxx thank you so much for reading this so quickly 😭

・❥・ Author’s Note: HA! I’m back already (hehehehe)~ This was meant to be posted for Joonie’s bday, but things happened… Anyway, fun fact, I got this idea when me and my sister were discussing frozen fanfiction, in particular a very snacky older Hans brother. I owe a lot of these ideas to my sister so shout out to her who helped me come up with this 😩✊🏽 I hope to post a less angsty Joon fic in the near future *hint hint wink wink something might be in the works* :,) Anyway enjoy this y’all ;)

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much :D

You never thought of yourself as nosy. You didn’t think your friends nor your family would disagree at this claim, you were honestly more known for being good at staying out of other’s business. However, your job at the palace seemed to challenge this standard you had for yourself.

You would oftentimes find yourself in the room when important court officials would be having discussions, but you always tried to pay no mind to their words and carried on with your assigned duties. However, you were just a maid to most of these officials and it always seemed like they wouldn’t care if you were dusting a shelf right across the room. You weren’t nosy, but you were human after all. You had ears.

You often enjoyed the palace gossip, never spreading it yourself necessarily, but you wouldn’t hesitate to take part in the chatter among the other palace staff that seemed to always spread like wildfire.

Most court officials always made you feel invisible, you didn’t mind it that way honestly, but one managed to snake his way into your life and became a chapter you never would have pictured for your humble existence.

“Are you sure that is the best idea?” A deep, booming voice reverberated throughout the empty throne room. You tried your best not to turn around.

“Your majesty, if you must know I have just gotten word from my father detailing my mother’s illness. I think this is enough reason to leave the palace grounds despite what’s going on right now.” Her voice was firm like she wasn’t even asking.

“I understand. Just considering what everyone is saying at the moment, I am worried. How long are you requesting leave?”

“I hope to return in one month’s time, but depending on my mother’s condition it might be longer.” You could feel his gaze even with your back turned to them both. He wanted you to listen.

“That is fine by me, just be sure to inform me of your mother’s condition from time to time, send her my dearest regards.”

“Thank you, your majesty.”

In your peripheral you saw her majesty get up and turn toward the entrance, but she stopped in her tracks and turned around to face him.

“Your majesty, upon my return I feel it is best to listen to our people. We need an heir.” She spoke plainly, lacking complete emotion. This was just business.

Silence filled the room for a little while.

“I will see you in a month.” He too lacked that emotion one would expect from the weight of her statement.

No more words were exchanged between the couple and soon you heard the door to the room close behind her majesty.

Happenings at the palace have been quite tense lately. Security has been tighter than ever and the crowds outside the palace have grown more restless by the passing days. Only you know the true reason for the controversy surrounding the newly appointed King.

It still felt like yesterday when the news of the death of the former King and Queen was spreading around the kingdom. Their son was of age to take the throne, so from a political standpoint the kingdom was secure, but with how sudden their death was, a lot of things needed to be rushed.

You had recently started working at the palace when it was announced that the newly crowned King would be marrying the princess of Alreda, a neighboring kingdom you had heard the former King had been trying to make peace with.

Everyone knew that the marriage was more of a political move than anything out of love, but because of his parents, everyone started with high hopes for the new couple. It was infamous across borders the story of the King and Queen of Kleier was a match that started off as nothing more than an arrangement that eventually blossomed into a fiery romance that seemed to spread over the kingdom.

Everyone had hopes for their son as well.

King Namjoon though was nothing like his parents by far. His last few years of reign were nothing bad, but he was known around the kingdom as a cold, yet thorough, meticulous, and a questionable ruler. Gone was the same light the former King spread over the kingdom, instead was a husk of what was once a kingdom filled with life and love.

No one complained at first however considering the suddenness of the King and Queen’s death. It was like the entire kingdom was still grieving.

There were some people however that were not as forgiving, demanding immediate perfection from the new King. Recently the topic everyone seemed to talk about was the fact that his majesty had been married to the Queen for 4 years and still had yet to produce an heir.

It was tradition that the King and Queen were to consummate their marriage and that would bless the kingdom with good fortune while they ruled. It quickly spread around the kingdom that this ‘blessing’ never happened on their wedding night. That’s essentially what started the gossip.

The fact that they had been married for so long and the Queen wasn’t even with child at the moment caused a bit of an uproar. Their voices grew louder as time passed and they took advantage of people’s grief about the former King and Queen and turned any small concerns they had into even more voices.

The King and Queen had even been advised to stay inside the palace gates because of safety concerns.

No one knew why the King had yet to spend the night with the Queen, no one knew why they hadn’t produced an heir yet, no one knew but you.

As soon as the door closed, you heard footsteps approaching from behind.

They were slow, calculated, and you could feel his gaze piercing through the back of your skull. You could feel your skin starting to burn, but you never faltered in your task of cleaning the relics that lined the throne room. You never turned around, not even when you felt his sturdy chest against your back.

“Did you hear that?” His voice was low and soft, not at all the same way he spoke with her majesty.

“I’ve been waiting for a time like this to come. I hope you have as well.” You felt shivers go down your spine, every word making you more eager for his touch than you thought possible. You felt his arm snake around your waist, before he pulled you even closer.

It was not out of lust but of longing, the pain of needing to put his role as the ruler of the kingdom first before his own selfish desires. The reason why the King had yet to spend the night with her majesty, was no reason as complicated as what the kingdom had spread. It was simply you.

It had been the first time you had laid eyes on the King, it had merely been days after you started your job as a maid in the palace. The head maid had been ushering you to the tea room, when you saw him walk down the hallway.

The head maid urged you to make room and bow, but as you felt his presence sweep by, you had looked up curiously to see his majesty and you felt your heart nearly stop when your eyes met. Instead of the strong, powerful, gaze you expected all you saw was how tired he seemed and pain you didn’t quite understand until later. It was in that moment his eyes locked onto yours as he passed by, a moment that felt like an entirety but was really only a few seconds because he stopped right in his tracks to look at you.

His entire party that followed closely behind, bumped into each other. Everyone was surprised at him suddenly coming to a halt.

“Who is this?” He questioned the head maid. You had felt your blood run cold wondering if you had made a mistake already.

“L/N Y/N your majesty, she’s a new maid I’m training.” The head maid had bowed deeper and her eyes remained trained to the ground. Immediately you senesed the terrible blunder you had made already.

Namjoon’s gaze returned back to you for a second. Part of you expected him to order for you to be thrown in jail or maybe even sentenced to a vicious beheading, but instead his eyes only lingered for a second longer before he was continuing with his party.

Some may have not expected this interaction to be much, but anytime you happened to work in the same room as his majesty you couldn’t shake the feeling you were being looked at. Every time you were proved right, he was always staring at you.

It was one fateful day that basically started this predicament. You had been working one late night and you happened to walk into a room his majesty was in. As soon as you pushed open the doors, you heard the sounds of pained sobs and pitiful whimpers, and that’s when his majesty sitting by the fireplace turned to you and your eyes met once again.

You apologized and was about to leave but he stopped you and he told you to continue working. His voice was groggy and you only wondered how long he had been crying. While you tried to work in peace your concern for the King got the best of you and you finally had to ask what was troubling him.

This led to you taking a seat right beside him by the fireplace and you let him vent his frustrations out. He went on about how much he missed his parents, how much he did not want to get married to the princess from Alreada, all the overwhelming Kingly duties that had suddenly been sprung onto him, and pretty much everything that he had seemingly bottled up inside his troubled mind since he took the crown.

You were there and despite you just being a maid, he let you listen to all his struggles almost as if he had just been waiting for someone to ask him that one question for months.

Things after that changed between you two, what started as making eye contact longer than you knew you were meant to, almost as if to reminisce the memory of the night you shared, slowly grew longer and longer the closer to the day Namjoon was meant to get married.

You both never said a word to each other, but it seemed as if you both knew exactly what you wanted the moment you looked into each other’s eyes.

You were confused and you sensed the conflict every time you met his gaze, but that didn’t stop the marriage. You sat in one of the furthest back pews in the church that day. You saw that same saddened look as the day you caught him crying alone as he said his “I dos” and his vow to love the princess.

For a while whatever was happening between you two ceased completely. As much as your heart ached you knew he had a duty and he was put into a marriage he couldn’t escape. Now that his majesty had gotten married it was finally time to put an end to your foolish fantasy, there was no way you could have been together anyway.

As the months turned into years, you tried your best to move on and focus on serving the King and Queen, but as rumors about their relationship started to spread around the palace, even escaping past the gates, you could not help but think about that night once more.

The more rumors that spread the more you noticed the signs yourself. You would sometimes walk into them arguing, you saw how distant they were. They were hardly ever in the same room together, let alone a couple that had been married for some time. The more you noticed the more you also started to see the King’s gaze return to yours once more.

It didn’t stop there.

Anytime you were alone he would make sure to move closer to you and watch you work, he would talk to you sometimes and you both would be merry and laugh. Whatever moment you shared before he was married was not a dream like you had been convincing yourself over the years. It slapped you in the face one day when you found yourself in a similar position, alone with his majesty.

It was late and the guards were right outside, but you both stood on the balcony facing the gardens as he held you in his arms. Nothing happened, but you could feel it, feel just how much he wanted you.

As much as you wanted to push yourself away from his enchanting presence, he was a married man after all and you were merely a maid, but each time you found yourself alone with him, your skin burned and all you wanted was to have him closer. You needed him closer.

As his majesty pulled away you only wished to pull him close again and have his way with you.

What did he mean, what was in store for you?

You found out the very day her majesty boarded her carriage. All the palace staff had been called outside to wish her farewell. You hadn’t been too far from the King, and as her majesty stepped onto the carriage you noticed his gaze was always locked onto yours.

You felt dirty, the Queen being right there ready to embark on a journey to visit her ill mother, yet all you were thinking about was what his majesty, what her husband was going to do to you.

It was awful, yet at the same time after she left and everyone was heading inside, his majesty stayed behind with you and whispered something in your ear that made you forget about the questionable morality of the situation.

“Cellar. 2 strikes on the clock. Don’t be late.”

And you weren’t, while everyone slept you crept out of the maid’s quarters and down to the cellar where he said he would be. You could not be happier to see him waiting for you.

He was still wearing his royal robes, the blue fabric decorated intricately with lighter swirls along with his family crest sewn into the back and shoulders. He was still even wearing his crown. It was almost like he was waiting for you for a lot longer than you thought.

You hardly had time to fully grasp he was in front of you before he was grabbing onto your arm, pushing you against the wall, cupping your cheeks, and kissing you like he had been holding back for so many years.

The passion erupted as you clumsily raked your hands over his body, his crown falling off his head, clanking loudly on the ground, but that didn’t sway you both as he picked you up onto a table and hiked up your nightgown. It was quick, you both were conscious of the fact that someone could walk downstairs at any moment but the tension that’s been built over the years didn’t sway you.

He took you right then and there and despite everything you couldn’t have been happier.

You found yourself sneaking down to the cellar while most of the palace staff slept more often than not. It was almost as if it was all a dream, a dream both you and Namjoon knew you would have to wake up from sooner than later. The Queen was to return and for some reason you knew that whatever was going on between you and his majesty would have to end.

Namjoon would finally have to fulfill his duty and give the kingdom an heir. He had a kingdom to take care of and you wouldn’t allow yourself to come in between that because of feelings. A beautiful kingdom going down for something as trivial as this? No, you wouldn’t do that to everyone.

Instead you let yourself enjoy this time before her majesty returns, let everything end with happy memories before you needed to say goodbye.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You weren’t paying any mind to the world around you as you focused on polishing the fireplace. The head maid had always complained whenever she would see it, saying you would always do a lousy job. You were set on impressing her this time so you had been concentrating on all the gold and making sure the fireplace sparkled, you didn’t even notice the sound of the door closing and locking.

You still didn’t really focus on it until you heard the sounds of slow, calculated footsteps walking toward you. It was at that moment you stopped working, feeling every part of yourself light ablaze just at the mere thought of being in the same room alone.

As his footsteps drew closer you finally allowed yourself to turn around. You were delighted to see him giving you a warm, dimpled smile and you found it impossible not to smile back at him. He was glorious.

His red robes were wrapped tightly around his frame making his physique hidden underneath almost on full display. Gold accents lined the fabric, along with the chain wrapped around his shoulders that connected the flowy cape dragging behind him. His crown sitting on top of his head sparkled brightly with the array of jewels that decorated it. The room was illuminated by the various colors, alluring rainbows covered the wall behind him making him appear quite heavenly. You couldn’t help but be enchanted by this one in particular, yet also resent it knowing knowing such a simple piece of headwear was the reason you could never be with him.

“What are you doing?” his powerful, yet kind voice almost made your knees buckle. You turned back around to the fireplace.

“Polishing your fireplace, your majesty—“ Your heart nearly stopped when you felt his arms wrap around your waist.

“Is that so?” He sighed as he buried his head in your neck, enjoying the way you smelled like the flowers in his garden.

“Yes sir, I was almost done if you wanted me to le–” Your voice was shaky. He was normally never so bold during the day.

“Mmmm, I think you missed a spot.” You noticed the subtle way his words slurred together and the smell of wine on his breath. You suddenly remembered that he had lunch today with neighboring rulers.

None of that mattered though, knowing now you had somehow missed a spot again despite your efforts.

“I did your majesty?” You panicked.

“Here…” He grabbed a hold of the hand that was holding the rag and slowly guided it to a higher spot on the fireplace.

“Try going a little harder…” Namjoon said softly before stepping back a little. You did as he said, rubbing the metal a little harder but Namjoon was right behind you again and grabbing onto your hand.

“Not too hard, just– yeah like that.” He intertwined his fingers with yours and helped you work the rag slowly in a circle. You felt your breath hick when his grip on your waist tightened.

“Go in a circle like this and with just the right amount of pressure…” He let his words linger and you weren’t sure if it was from how close he was standing, his hand around yours, or the words that made your whole body tingle and you wished nothing more than for him to pull you close.

He pulled your hand away from the metal and you were delighted to see it sparkle like the rest of the beautifully crafted fireplace. “Look at how pretty it shines.” He smiled, finally letting go of you entirely and made his way to sit on the ottoman that sat at the foot of his bed.

You turned around and you shivered seeing the way he was looking at you. His gaze was dark and almost… hungry?

You cleared your throat and bent down to grab a different rag, one that you would use to clean the wooden furniture the King had decorated the palace with over the years.

You moved closer so you were standing right in front of him, he smirked at you as you got on your hands and knees.

“Sorry your highness, I was going to clean this next. Is that ok?” You looked up at him, an act normally that would get you thrown away, but one you knew the King loved when it came to you. He always told you how much he loved your eyes.

He chuckled darkly and leaned forward so he was only inches away, you noticed his gaze drift down to your lips and back up at your eyes.

“Don’t let me stop you.”

Everything, everywhere on your body burned, but you maintained a level head and got to work. You started working your rag along the beautiful wooden legs of the ottoman, making sure to do it just like the King had instructed you earlier, all while maintaining eye contact.

You didn’t exactly know what the aim of this game was, but you wanted him just as hot as you were.

After thoroughly going over the legs you slowly rubbed the cloth along the wood lining underneath the red cushion. As you got closer you slowed down, but maintained that eye contact. When you were right by his leg, he leaned back and parted his legs further. His gaze challenged you and you didn’t hesitate moving in between his thighs to continue working your rag along the lining.

You made sure to go extra slow, making sure you missed no spot, all to make sure the King knew you knew how to do your job correctly. You didn’t miss the way he bit his lip and tried to move himself closer to your hand, all the while you seemingly paid no mind and simply did your job.

You were about to move on to the other side, but as you scooted away Namjoon grabbed onto your arm and pulled you back.

He stared into your eyes and then glanced over at the door. You knew if his majesty was here his guards would be standing right outside the door. This little game would just have to end for now, maybe later you could sneak downs–

Namjoon’s hand came up to lightly caress your cheek, you stared at him wide eyed as he used his thumb to gently trace over your features. You glanced over at the door and back at him, wondering what he was doing.

He leaned in closely.

“Stand up.” He commanded.

You were slightly confused but did as he asked. He got up slowly and looked you right in the eyes.

It was like time stood still for a moment, uncertainty lingering in the air the deeper you looked in his eyes.

But the tension broke and before you knew it, he was pulling you close and kissing you. You could immediately taste the exorbitant wine on his tongue, the price of one bottle amounting to more than you’d ever be worth in your lifetime. Each time you kissed, the forbiddenness of your relationship would become all you could think about, but every time it always made you so hungry for his touch. You wished you could do this all the time…

You were quick to feel Namjoon’s plead for more as his hands eagerly ran down your dress and kissed you with a more hurried need. Your body was quick to be set alight by his lips against yours, sparks being sent all throughout your body. You needed him closer.

You both slowly pulled away and the look in his eyes was pained with lust. He almost seemed upset, angry, but you knew that wasn’t it.

His hand came back up to cup your cheek and the other that was resting on your waist pulled you closer. You looked up at him curious as to what he was going to do, and your eyes immediately focused on his lips as he started leaning in. Your heart swelled when his lips gently kissed your cheek, but the sweet moment didn’t last long as he pulled you back toward the ottoman and he took a seat.

Namjoon grabbed your hand and pulled you so you were standing right in front of him. You stood there as his eyes raked over your form and his hand came up to play with the fabric of your skirt.

That angered expression returned.

“Take this off.” He looked up at you. His words made you shiver but your eyes quickly darted over to the door where the guards were standing outside.

“What about–” you started, a little concerned but Namjoon quickly interjected.

“Take it off.” He repeated.

His tone was serious and you knew what he was suggesting wasn’t a good idea, risking the secret that you’ve managed to keep between you two for years getting out. But in that moment you remembered the Queen’s words before she had departed. These last few weeks might very well be the last time you even get to glance in his majesty’s direction let alone be intimate the way you wished you could be all the time.

This was the end of the road and the fact he was so confident knowing that his guards were merely behind his big ebony doors, you knew he would handle the situation if the word were to spread. You trusted him so much that you reached behind you and tugged at the strings that laced up your dress.

You looked him directly in the eyes as the fabric started to loosen around your skin, the way his eyes darted around your body eagerly awaiting for the slightest skin reveal. His gaze made you warm and the ache between your legs even more unbearable but you couldn’t hide the excitement at having this power over him.

Your apron hit the floor first, then the outer layer of your dress, and the undercoat that gave the dress its shape. You noticed the labored breathing as more of yourself was revealed to his majesty, the more pained his expression looked, and the more you noticed the tent between his legs become more prominent.

Once the undercoat was removed all you were left in was your white stockings, garters, and the under dress that hung loosely over your form.

“Please…” You heard him whisper as he finally looked up at you. You didn’t hesitate with removing the last layer, revealing the underwear that was encrusted with his initials. All palace staff had a uniform they were required to wear, everything you wore had his mark somewhere on your body. It was standard palace procedure but in this moment you relished in the thought that it was him who covered up your most intimate parts.

Namjoon sat up and he quickly let his hands explore the exposed skin, he groaned softly at the way you felt underneath his grasp, almost as if he couldn’t stand being apart from you for a second longer.

You tried to make no noise despite how good his hands felt on your body, but before too long he grabbed onto your hand and pulled you close so he could whisper in your ear.

“Get down on your knees and serve your King.” The words were filthy, essentially forcing you into complete submission. This was an order. You would have moaned if it wasn’t for the guards outside. You wanted to please him so well, serve your King so well that you instantly dropped down like he wished, eager to make his majesty feel good.

Namjoon looked down at you with hungry eyes as your hands came up and ran over his clothed thighs. He was quick to let you know he was not in the mood for teasing, nor for taking things slow, guiding your hand up to the tie around his waist.

You didn’t hesitate pulling on the fabric, making sure to maintain eye contact with his majesty. In your peripheral you still noticed his fleeting grip on the ottoman, the red fabric being pulled between his fingers. His head leaned back slightly and even saw his crown tumble clumsily from his head and onto the bed behind him. You were making him a mess before you had truly touched him.

As soon as the tie was undone the King stood up so you were face first with the tent in his pants. He hastily unclipped the chain holding up his fur cape and it draped onto the ottoman. He reached into his pants and you watched with bated breath as you were once again blessed with the sight of his majesty.

You could not help but stare. No longer being hidden in the darkness of the cellar only lit up by the flickering light of one mere candle, to see him in his full glory, you felt unworthy. You marveled at its slight curve, the way the pink tip leaked and pleaded for you. How his majesty wanted you at all was still a mystery to you as well, you were merely a maid, a maid who had nothing to give him. He had everything to give to you and you stupidly allowed yourself to get mixed up in affairs you knew you had no business in.

This might very well be the last time you will be blessed with the opportunity of even looking into his eyes. You wanted him to remember you, to remember that there is a maid whose heart he stole, even if only for a short while after the Queen returns.

Your attention was returned when his majesty reached his hand underneath your chin and pulled you closer to what you have been staring at. The motion forced your eyes to return to his.

His breath was heavy as he used his other hand to tease his cock between your lips, a primal, guttural moan escaping his lips as you happily opened your mouth and took him whole.

You watched his eyes flutter shut as you let him get adjusted to the feeling of your mouth before moving back and taking him all once more.

“Oh– fuck.” He sighed, your mouth feeling too good too quickly. His filthy words made the ache between your legs even worse. The words were filthy, improper, something a King should never say, yet with you he felt comfortable enough to let the title and expectations slip his mind when he was with you.

Namjoon’s hands hurriedly came up to tangle in your hair, his tight grip made your scalp burn and he forced you into a quicker rhythm.

His moans were prettier than any tune on the harpsichord ever offered you. For a second you forgot that there were likely people outside listening. Either his majesty didn’t care whatsoever, or he was trying and horribly failing at keeping quiet.

“So fucking good to me–” He groaned. The words of praise made you want to do better, serve him better. You slacked your jaw so he could more easily push into your mouth, you weren’t prepared for the whine he let out as a result.

“Ohhhhh…”

You let him fuck your throat completely ignoring the way your eyes started to tear up, instead you focused on his expression and his drunken gaze staring down at you. He seemed amazed, and utterly taken aback by how filthy you are. Your rushed nights together in the cellar was nothing like today.

His pace started growing more irregular and you knew it would not be long before you could taste his highness.

Namjoon started to slow down, not yet wanting to finish, but your hands came up to run over his thighs once more trying to keep him from leaving.

“Y/n…” He warned. He didn’t want you to stop either but if he didn’t soon he would–

He finally worked up the will to pull himself out of your mouth, but you did not let him away that easily. Your eyes remained fixed on his as you ran your tongue along the vein and swirled around the tip.

“I’m close, I want–”

“I want to please you, your majesty…” You were practically begging him to finish in your mouth. He stared down at you, taken aback, but he found you incredibly wanton at this moment. It just made the ache worse.

You teased the tip between your lips, your hand came up and stroked him gently, eager for him to let go.

His majesty moaned, unable to resist the temptation and pushed his cock between your lips once more. It only took one slow glide of his hips before you felt him release into your mouth.

In the moment you forgot where you were, the world outside the ebony doors didn’t exist to you anymore. You forgot about the possible consequences of your actions, how the palace staff outside could likely hear you. In that moment it was just you and his majesty, the King was yours and you never wanted it to end.

You marveled at his soft expression tightening, the strangled moans and unseemly curses that slipped from his lips, the grip on your hair pulling you closer so he could make sure you swallowed every bit of the cum you begged for.

As his high rolled over, his attention returned down to you once more and reached out his hand for you to take it. You grabbed it and stood you up. You ignored how achy and sore your knees felt, choosing instead to focus on his grace and the way he stared at you.

His attention fleeted from your eyes down to your exposed breasts and trailed further down to your garter belt and eventually settled on your panties. His gaze made your skin burn and even more eager for him to finally touch you, you knew he would.

What you didn’t expect was for him to take a step closer and grab onto your waist. He leaned in close enough that your noses brushed against each other.

“You perplex me so much Y/n. I’m told you are but a maid, but my heart and body yearn for you as if you were her majesty herself.” It was then that his hands traveled further down until you felt them suddenly grab firmly on your ass. You nearly yelped, his confession so direct and his hands on your body making sure you knew he meant every word.

“Her majesty is not here and we have only but so much time before my responsibility as the King of this nation must take priority– but right now I want the opportunity to take my time and ravage your body.” You felt every word down below and couldn’t stop yourself when you finally closed the distance.

You kissed him hurriedly, making sure he knew that you felt the same way and you couldn’t wait for him to take you the way he wanted. Namjoon was quick at getting into rhythm and his hands ran along your body, desperately grabbing at anything he possibly could.

You fell into his arms, wanting, needing to feel him more closely. You felt him begin to pull at your stockings and panties, you were waiting for him to finally rid them of your body but you could tell he was struggling to remove them. It was then that you remembered you weren’t normally this clothed when you would meet down in the cellar, your nightdress and underwear usually being the only barriers between you two.

You weren’t prepared for the sudden ripping sound and the coolness of the air on your legs. You finally broke the kiss to look down and saw him ripping your stockings, the force ruining your garter belt.

Instead of dwelling onto it too much, you aided him in removing your bra as he tugged down your panties down your legs.

Standing nude in front of him, he looked you over once more before guiding you over the side of his bed and ushering you to take a seat.

You watched curiously as he hurriedly tugged on the unraveled belt of his pants. You were not prepared for him to order for your hands and begin to tie the belt around your wrist. You were confused yet excited seeing the gleam in his eyes. You knew whatever his majesty had in store for you was more than you deserved.

You were about to ask him what he was doing but the minute his majesty seemed satisfied with the knot he pulled up further up the bed so he could tie the other end around his bed frame post.

He then ripped the belt that had tied his robe around his waist and did the same to your other wrist. You were bound and at his mercy, he could do anything to you in this position. You did not mind at all though, trusting him completely.

Once his majesty was done, he moved so he stood at the foot of the bed and just stared at you. His gaze made your skin burn and on instinct you tried to cover yourself up, but with your hands unavailable you could not do much except cross your legs slightly.

His majesty shook his head at your actions. “Need to see all of you princess.” He whispered quietly, leaning in a little further.

The nickname was new and you could have melted right there knowing his majesty saw you worthy enough for a nickname as high as the one he decided on. A pedestal higher than you knew what you were worth was enough to give you that little bit of confidence to follow his command.

Your eyes begged for him and as you spread your legs, it was obvious how much you truly wanted his majesty. You reveled in the way his eyes held desperation as he stared right where you have been wanting him.

“I need you, your majesty…” You pleaded, needing his hands to cool your burning skin.

Your words visibly got to him, your shy demeanor shedding in favor of something more bold. You knew he knew what you were trying to do and it was clearly working. He desperately threw his robe to the ground and climbed over the ottoman and onto the bed, slotting himself between your thighs.

You both stared into each other’s eyes for a second, the gaze saying more than a thousand words could have in that moment. You both wanted so much more out of this than you knew was possible, but this will just have to make do.

His majesty leaned in and planted a soft kiss right on your lips before pulling back. You felt a hand run up along your thigh as he leaned in so he was right by your ear.

“Let me worship you.” His voice was shaky and you were not sure if it was from emotion or of pure need.

You couldn’t even speak before you felt his hand move from your thigh to between your legs. You were knocked breathless when his fingers ran up your slit and settled on your clit, rubbing gentle circles that made your eyes flutter close and a soft moan escaped your lips.

You made sure to maintain eye contact as he watched your face intently, you wanted him to know how good he was making you feel already.

“Touch me please, your majesty…” You sighed, leaning up to pull him closer. Namjoon knew what you wanted and leaned in further so he was planting his lips on yours. You were hungry and desperately received him, you knew you caught him off guard but he was quick to match your energy.

You sighed impatiently when his lips trailed further down to kiss your neck. You were not prepared for the glorious sensation of his mouth when he began sucking lightly on your skin. Every touch he gave made your head spin, but just knowing there was a possibility this might leave a mark, that you might walk out of this room branded by his majesty himself for everyone to see made your heart flutter.

You pulled lightly on your restraints, wishing so badly in that moment to touch him, but was harshly reminded that was not possible right now.

Namjoon’s lips trailed down further, kissing you down your chest, over your breast, down your stomach and closer and closer to where you craved him.

“Please…” You cried. You probably looked pathetic right now, but you needed him so bad you didn’t even care.

Namjoon smiled up at you, before quickly leaning in to fulfill your desires. His arms wrapped around your thighs to keep you steady as his tongue ran up your slit. At this you couldn’t contain your moan.

You had long forgotten that there were likely people standing outside the door, but your own voice surprised you and you hurriedly tried to shush yourself. The consequences of your actions today were nice to pretend did not exist, that you could both walk out of this room hand and hand and everyone in the palace and kingdom would accept your relationship.

In truth you both were taking so many risks being together like this in the open. It was already risky enough sneaking into the cellar every other night, but to be out like this in broad daylight people might have assumed the Queen returned home early from her trip.

Affairs happen all the time for court officials of a kingdom, a lot of their marriages are only ways to advance their political careers so having “someone else” wasn’t uncommon. If this was a normal case people wouldn’t bat an eye at your relationship with his majesty especially considering this was more than your average affair. It was the heart that pulled you both together, not the lustful demon that resided inside you both.

But this wasn’t the normal case. The people, after experiencing a loving King and Queen, wanted that once again and seemingly wouldn’t settle for less. His Majesty had to give his heart to the Queen in order to avoid a possible rebellion. You simply can not exist.

You tried to shush yourself as his tongue got to work pleasing you, he knew your body so well after only a few weeks.

You wished desperately to reach your hands down into his hair like you usually would, but the grip on your wrists once again reminded you were bound and completely at his majesty’s mercy.

You cried out as he eagerly lapped at your folds before he leaned back and let his fingers run through your slick once more.

“Marvelous…” He quietly mumbled to himself, finally getting a great view between your legs.

You didn’t have any time to feel embarrassed at all before two of his fingers were inside you and suddenly it became impossible to be quiet with the way his majesty curled his fingers, hitting a spot he knew all too well made it hard for you to be quiet.

You tried to shush yourself once more, but a glance down to the King himself made you realize this was all intentional. His eyes were locked on your expression and his subtle smile whenever you would moan out for him made it obvious. For some reason he wanted you to scream for him, despite the guards who were standing outside or any passersby he still wanted to hear you.

The revelation made that growing ache down below even worse.

“P–Please, your majesty…” You moaned, hoping he would put you out of your misery soon. You heard a low chuckle before the situation somehow managed to get even worse. His majesty showed you no mercy and made sure everyone in the palace would hear you scream.

He used his tongue along with his fingers, his thumb circling your clit and his tongue had made its way inside you. He would switch, suddenly his tongue on your clit and his fingers inside you. It was too much, he was too good to you and the emotion you felt had that cord inside you wanting to snap.

“Your-your majesty, I–”

“Cum for me princess.” The nickname and his voice was the last thing you needed before your whole body surged with excitement, pleasure flooding all of your senses. It was so good, his majesty was just so good to you, you could hardly believe it when you were able to open your eyes to see the majestic painting that decorated the entire ceiling and to feel the soft sheets on your back.

You were in his majesty’s room and… you glanced down to see his adorable smile looking up at you. Right, he was so sweet to you.

That dopey expression fleeted quickly though as he reached up and began untying the knots that were around your wrists.

“So pretty… Everyone in the palace likely heard you princess. You know this is meant to be a secret. I feel like I need to make sure you understand that.” At first you were confused by his words, he knew you were trying your best to quiet yourself, but the smirk on his face told you he was not being serious.

Oh. You understood what was going on.

The minute he was able to wrangle you free, he guided you so you were on your hands and knees in front of him. You couldn’t stop the excitement building up once again at the thought of what could be in store for you next.

That excitement was raised when you felt the dip in the bed rise and turned around to see his majesty hurriedly tugging down his pants. You felt your face flush the minute you caught sight of his cock springing free and instinctively turned back around.

The bed dipped once more and it didn’t take long for you to feel the slow drag of his cock along the swells of your ass, your body shivered and you wanted to scream for him to finally get inside you.

You heard him curse lightly, making you turn around to see his eyes glued to the mounds and you felt his hand come up, run up your thigh before lightly grabbing at your ass.

“So fucking pretty… you’ll be good right? I promise to have you, but first I must…” He didn’t finish his sentence and you were about to question him until you felt a firm slap right across your cheeks.

You yelped, not at all expecting that nor the increased desire you felt to finally have him.

“Count to 10 for me princess, I promise I will fuck you right after.” He almost moaned as he softly rubbed the irritated skin.

You wanted to please him.

“1.”

SLAP!

So good, you needed him inside you. This punishment was less of one than a chance to have his hands on you.

You loved it.

“2…”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The two guards looked at each other worriedly. The King had said that he was tired after his meeting earlier. He said the wine was getting to him and the guards simply expected a long, but boring rest of their shift.

What they didn’t expect was merely a few minutes after the door closed behind him, were for moans of his majesty to be heard. That wasn’t the concerning part though. What had them worried was hearing the sound of moans of a woman on the other side of the door.

It became obvious that they were witnesses to an affair. With how rocky the political climate was, they both knew if word were to get out about this, there would be horrible consequences in store.

“Excuse me.” The voice startled them both, but they were relieved to see it was only the King’s right hand.

“Yes sire.” One of the guards said, standing at attention.

“I have an urgent message for the King.” Jae-su declared– Namjoon’s right hand, someone that’s almost been like a second father to him. Usually it was only protocol to declare the purpose of entering the King’s chambers and as the palace staff all knew him so well, nothing more was needed.

Jae-su was surprised when the spears the guards were holding crossed over each other, preventing him from entering.

“I’m sorry sire, but now may not be the best time–”

Muffled from inside the room was the clear sound of a female's voice inside, seemingly moaning a number.

Jae-su looked at the guards confused and they clearly seemed worried.

“No one has entered, but there seems to be someone else inside but his majesty.” The other guard said, slightly panicked.

Normally this would just warrant Jae-su to walk away and be sure to give his majesty a stern talking to about his behavior, but he was carrying a red sealed letter, something that was meant to be delivered to his majesty immediately. Unfortunately he could not simply walk away and deal with this later.

“I’m sorry gentlemen, but this is a red sealed letter. This must get to his majesty immediately.” He tried to keep his professional front on, but he was clearly flushed.

The guards looked at each other worriedly, before moving their spears.

Jae-su stepped closer to the door and hesitantly knocked.

“Your majesty, it’s me. I’ve come to deliver you some news.” He called out.

There was silence for a little while before his majesty finally answered. “Jae-su, this isn’t the best time right now. Can’t you not come back later?” Namjoon questioned.

“Unfortunately not your majesty, this is a red sealed letter from the Queen.”

More silence passed.

“Come in then.” As much as he didn’t want to, his duty had him turning the door knob and opening the door.

Jae-su still had hope that this was some big misunderstanding, but when he went inside he was horrified to see clothes strewn about the room, his majesty’s crown upside down on the ottoman by his bed and right there on the bed was his majesty and a woman together in a less than pure position.

Jae-su nearly screamed when he heard the slapping sound as he walked around the bed to his majesty’s nightstand.

“8…” You moaned softly. Your cheeks were burning, the right hand seeing you like this was embarrassing, but you also couldn’t help feeling a little fluttery at the thought of Namjoon being so comfortable letting someone in on your little secret.

You wanted to imagine that after all this somehow this might have a happy ending, it was nice to think about.

“I’m sorry your majesty, but this is from the Queen. It details about her soon return and I would suggest you read it immediately.” Jae-su said, sitting the letter on the little silver platter on the nightstand.

SLAP!

You were taken aback and so was Jae-su at the continuation of your punishment. “9…” you tried to quiet yourself.

“Thank you Jae-su, I’ll read it as soon as I’m done.” Namjoon sighed, taking a fistful of your ass.

“Right… I’m sure you will… your majesty, I’m sure you’re aware that this is an issue. We must talk.” Jae-su said firmly. It was then that the reality of your little fun came crashing down. Those consequences you tried to pretend didn’t exist were made oh so obvious.

“Please leave. I’m busy Jae-su.” Namjoon sounded frustrated. Jae-su quickly sensed this and hurried his way out the room.

Silence lingered for a little while, part of you was sure he’d stop, the moment shared being broken by reality. But you were surprised to feel him grab onto your hips tightly before pulling you back onto his cock.

You both moaned at the feeling, all this playing leading up to this moment. Finally, finally you had him inside you and you never wanted him to leave.

“Feel-feel so good m’lady…” Namjoon shakily breathed out. He tried to take in as much as he could, the warmth your walls provided, the way you gripped him like you never wanted to let go, your soft sighs of pleasure. You were absolutely perfect in his eyes, he didn’t, he couldn’t let you go.

After he let you get adjusted, he slowly pulled back his hips before pushing back in. His steady pace turned punishing, almost desperate, quite quickly. You felt so good around him and he wanted everyone to know.

He relished in the way you cried his name. He wanted everyone in the palace to know you were his. If it wasn’t for this stupid fucking marriage he was forced into, you would be. If his parents were still around they wouldn’t have made him marry the Queen, as soon as he would have told them his heart belonged to you, you would have become his bride instead.

Namjoon felt tears pricking his eyes at the thought, but he shook them away, instead he wanted to focus on you as this could possibly be your last night spent together.

“Your maj-majesty!” You cried, your hips high up while your face was buried in the pillow gripping onto the fabric tightly.

“So good to me princess.” Namjoon sighed, hastily pulling your hips back to meet his. He was close and so were you.

Namjoon could stand it no longer and quickly pulled out and flipped you back over so you were laying on your back. You were a bit taken aback by this, but the minute he pushed his cock back into you, suddenly that did not matter anymore.

If anything it made things better. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he continued to pound into you.

He clumsily leaned down to meet your lips, kissing you like his life depended on it. In some ways it did.

His hurried pace was starting to falter making you realize he was close.

Namjoon pulled away, his gaze trained on your eyes and every little expression you would make.

“Y/n–” He rushed out.

“Yes, your highness…”

“Say it…” It was a command, but he sounded so desperate to hear what he wanted.

“What–what your maj–”

“My name, please I want to hear you say my name.” You and him both knew what this meant. No one of your status was allowed to simply call the King by his first name. The only one in this palace who had that pleasure was her majesty.

You stared up at him, taken aback by his words.

“Please, please, please– so close–” He begged, his majesty was begging you to say his name.

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, pulling him as close as you could.

“You’re making me feel so fucking good Namjoon, please cum for me…” If anyone heard you outside of this room you would surely be beheaded but his name falling from your lips and your crude language was enough to have him spilling into your warm embrace without any notice.

You helped work him through it, rubbing his back lightly as he moaned softly into your neck.

He took a moment to calm himself down before he was pulling back to stare at where your bodies connected, his thumb coming down to hastily rub on your clit once more.

You were shocked but your body reacted instantly, it did not take too long before your orgasm was hitting you once again so suddenly. It felt good, from the tips of your fingers down to your toes your body cried out for Namjoon.

He helped work you through yours as well, slowly moving his hips as you started to come down from your high.

For a minute you both just sat there, staring into each other’s eyes, but Namjoon was quick to bend down once again and kiss you. He kissed you with all the passion, yearning, and love he had for you.

For a minute he wanted to pretend like the world outside his ebony doors didn’t exist, that he didn’t have responsibilities that were going to keep him away from you.

But alas, he found himself eventually pulling away to read the letter sent to him by his wife.

Namjoon stared at the fancy penmanship, reading the words and not wanting to believe them.

Her mother was now well and she is to be returning in three days.

Namjoon crumbled up the letter and went back over to you who was staring at him, wondering what the letter said. Instead of answering immediately he put the both of you underneath the covers and pulled you close.

“Your– Namjoon, what did it say?” His name sounded so pretty from your mouth.

This time he couldn’t stop the tears he felt coming into his eyes.

“We don’t have much time left– let’s not think about it though. I find greater pleasure holding you close like this.” He smiled at you, but you could see his eyes starting to well up.

Instead of pushing further on the subject you let yourself relax in his arms.

It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him, but you knew that would only make things worse. You hope he knows how much you love him and will continue to do so even after the Queen becomes with child.

You would cherish today for a lifetime.

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