#Mother of the bride suits | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vividxpages · 7 days

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｡° ✮୨ৎ "lay it all on me"୨ৎ✮° ｡

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 2100

summary: With the Queen and your betrothed Jacaerys’ delayed arrival, you are left in charge of the day’s council meeting. When one of the lords starts to speak of a possible bedding ceremony for your upcoming wedding, your thoughts begin to spiral badly…

warnings: the lords in Rhaenyra’s council being perverts and dicks, talks of misogynistic traditions and predatory behavior of men, sexism and misogyny, panic attacks, Jacaerys being a protective betrothed, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, crying, hopeful ending

a/n: I cooked this up so quickly, but I was very inspired yesterday - thank you so much to the anon who sparked a conversation about bedding ceremonies in my asks and with it, my inspiration for this idea! <3 this is for you :*

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

When the messenger arrived at the council room and announced the delayed arrival of the Queen and her son, you had been optimistic for a moment.

Jacaerys and you, a team ever since your shared childhood and since recently betrothed with the blessings of his mother and family, had led council meetings like this together before and you were no stranger to the strategies and logistics of the war and Rhaenyra’s efforts in it. You just had not done it by yourself before.

You nodded in thanks to the messenger and turned back to the assembly of Rhaenyra’s lords around the table with a polite smile. It was only a matter of time until her and Jace would make their return from the dragon’s caves and until then, you’d do your best to begin today’s conversation.

“Well then, my lords.” You nodded to yourself and took a deep breath, looking into the round with openness. “I believe we’ll continue where we’ve left off yesterday? Is there any news yet of Daemon’s stay at Harrenhal? We could-“

“There is another matter of importance we thought we could discuss with you, my princess.” One of the lords interrupted you, a cool smile on his face as you leaned back in your seat. You cocked an eyebrow at him to continue despite your sentence being left unfinished. “Since the wedding with the prince Jacaerys will occur in the upcoming months, it would be wise to discuss the bedding ceremony sooner rather than later.”

Something in you went very, very still.

You blinked at him before you looked into the other men’s faces. They seemed to be in agreement of this rapid topic change. “The…bedding ceremony?”

“Yes, it is of grand importance to ensure the consummation of marriage between two newly-weds.” He explained to you, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his old mouth. “It’s an old tradition and the lords and I believe it is best to follow it with the young and lovely union of the prince and you.”

You swallowed against the dryness in your throat, your hands suddenly clammy with unsureness. “I have not talked to Jace about such a thing. The Queen hasn’t spoken to me about it either. That’s…-What if me and Jacaerys are against it?”

A few of them chuckled as if you had made a good jest.

“My princess, is it not really a matter of choice, if you understand.” One of them explained to you before he suddenly turned away from you and addressed the others: “The wedding will be held here at Dragonstone as we know and I thought of a crowd of perhaps a dozen, mostly members of the family and this council, of course. After the celebrations, the prince will lead his bride away in the company of the Queen’s loyal and trusted advisors and then, the marriage will be consummated in a room large enough for the ceremony.”

You opened your mouth to object, but found your voice had simply vanished.

“Will there be sheets as proof in the morning?”

“I would actively support it.”

“There are clothes here at Dragonstone suited for such a ceremony, I am sure we will have them before the wedding takes place.”

“A purity test accomplished by a maester might be sufficient beforehand as well-“

You felt yourself drifting away from the conversation, one that circled around you and yet did not include you at all. Staring at the table in front of you, you felt your breath quicken as a distant howl swept through your mind, drowning out their voices as they went on and on.

In your mind, you saw yourself being led into a fully lit room. The dress you wore was thin and barely hiding your body, your arms protectively crossed in front of yourself as you shivered. The bed chamber was crowded all the way back to the tapestry of the walls with men regarding you coolly. Their hunger for the curves barely hidden underneath your dress was evident in their eyes, yet you had to walk on until you reached the middle of the room. Jacaerys was waiting, his own expression blank and without any emotion for you as he took your hand and led you to bed. There were a thousand eyes on you and you felt numb, your body screaming in protest, your mind begging you to shout at them to leave as Jace mechanically began to kiss your neck-

The wide doors of the hall opened and the men seated around you abruptly stood, their wrinkly hands brushing over their attires. The Queen was here.

You remained in your seat, your mind having drawn itself back to a hidden part in yourself, blankly staring at the fidgeting hands in your lap. When you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder, the touch so familiar it could’ve been your own, you closed your eyes for just a moment. Jacaerys had come with her.

“What is going on?” Rhaenyra demanded to know, walking around the big table as she took in your uncharacteristic quiet state.

When your betrothed raised your hand to his lips in greeting, you looked up and bit your lip at Jace’s worried expression. The taste of iron coated your lips and only now you realized you had bitten your lip so badly, it had started to bleed. The pain was almost a relief.

“Are you alright?” Jace murmured, his hand delicately cupping your cheek and making you shudder. Your eyes were glassy, your cheeks red from shame and suddenly, a strong urge to cry shot through you, so intense you barely could fight it. “What is it, my love?”

You shook your head, avoiding his searching gaze.

The shame burned hotly through you and you wanted to shrink into your seat until you could escape these old devils. One of them, who had started this whole discussion about the ceremony in the first place, cleared his throat. “Your Grace, we were discussing possible arrangements for the wedding of the prince and his betrothed. There have been no mentions of the traditional bedding ceremony yet and the lords and myself were worried that-“

Rhaenyra frowned with a disgusted curl of her lips. “A bedding ceremony? There hasn’t been a tradition like this in my generation. Why would we burden the next with such an old piece of the past?”

You could sense Jace tensing beside you, his face dark as he stared at the lord. Would he look at you like this too, when the happiest day of your life would end with having to sleep with each other in front of dozens? Your chest hurt as you struggled to breathe normally.

“The princess has expressed similar concerns, but there are ways…There could be a thin veil draped over the sides of the bed.” Another suggested generously and you felt your stomach turn itself over. “Of course, it cannot shield the pair fully from the observer’s eyes. They have to be in sight, so it can be assured that she’s-“

“There will be no bedding ceremony.” Jace cut him off, close to snarling as he flexed his hand on the hilt of his sword. He remained by your side, his stance protective of you and intimidating. “Neither my mother or myself have been consulted about this before and the fact that you’ve preyed on an opportunity to bring it up in front of the princess is close to treason. And yet you’ve dared to speak of such inappropriate matters in front of my betrothed, your future Queen? I could have you hanged by the cliffs of Dragonstone for such perverted behavior.”

“My prince, with all respect, it simply is tradition. It has to be guaranteed that on the night of her wedding, the bride is a maiden-“

The sound of your chair screeching over the floor broke through the room as you stood up. The sound of your own breath was too loud in your eyes, the lump in your throat only growing by the second. “If you would excuse me, Your Grace, I’m not feeling well.”

Jacaerys stood with you, but as he reached for your hand, you had already slipped away and quickly made your escape towards the wide doors, trying to breathe against the numbing panic in your lungs.

You blindly walked down the long corridor, ignoring the questioning looks of the guards standing on the sides. Would they be there as well, to witness yours and Jace’s union, eyes on your naked body when Jace had to deflower you in front of an audience?

You choked on a sob, the tears running freely down your cheeks now, the pain in your chest only expanding from keeping it inside for so long. You had never experienced a panic like this before, a powerful tide washing all rational thoughts away and sending your brain into overdrive.

Behind you, quick footsteps were approaching and before you knew it, Jacaerys had overtaken you and blocked your path, taking your upset state in with wide eyes. Your bottom lip wobbled dangerously and you came to a halt, noting how far and fast you had walked away from the council room.

“My love…” Jacaerys mumbled quietly and stepped closer and somewhere inside of you, a dam burst and he caught you as you fell into his arms, your body wrecked with heartbreaking and breathless sobs. He wrapped his arms around you, drawing you against his chest and letting you cry, his own heart aching at the stress vibrating through your body.

“I don’t want them to see…” You sniffled miserably against his shoulder, his arms tightening protectively around your waist, one of his hands resting on the back of your head and stroking your hair. “I want our wedding night to be ours, I don’t want them in the room with us, I don’t want any of it.”

“I’m not going to allow it.” He assured you calmly, suppressing his own anger for the sake of your peace of mind. Later, he’d had time to rage and forge the feeling into action, but now the only thing that mattered was you. “They have no right to make these rules for us. You and I decide, together, okay?”

You nodded, your anxiety slowly beginning to ebb away and leaving the council room and its members behind you.

“I am so sorry I was not there with you.” Jacaerys regretfully whispered against your temple, soothingly stroking your back as you rested your tear-streaked face against his neck. “I am not going to let this slide. And I am serious, my love, I promise you; there will be no bedding ceremony, I’m not going to let them expose you like this.”

You lifted your head to look at him, your eyes still shimmering with worried tears. “And what if we have to? I can’t do this, Jace, I would rather die-“

He gently shushed you and gently rested his forehead against yours, willing you to take big and deep breaths with him until you were breathing in sync and your shivering stopped. “We don’t have to do anything. You and I, we’ll be king and queen someday and I will not accept any disrespect towards you, not today or when we’re married, alright?”

You nodded slowly, exhaling deeply as you allowed yourself to sink against him, letting yourself be held and gently swayed from side to side. Slowly but surely, your heart stopped hurting and the clouds in your mind dissolved until you only felt him.

“Alright.” You whispered back after a while and his lips on yours, featherlight and oh so gently, were a relief after such moments of stress. When you separated and looked into each other’s eyes, you added quietly: “I want this, with you. All of it. I want our first time together to be special and a memory we’ll cherish forever.”

“And it will be, I promise.” He soothed you. “These old pathetic men will do good to remember their place before I’ll unleash Vermax on them.” He added jokingly and even managed to make you giggle a little bit at the mental image. “You know how Vermax adores you, he’ll eat them in one piece and spit them out, because they’re disgusting.”

You snorted tiredly and nuzzled his neck in affection, not ready to separate yourself from him just yet.

“My mother will deal with them.” Jace promised you darkly, a revengeful shimmer in his fierce eyes as he wiped the last of your tears away with his thumb. “And when she’s done with them, I will make sure as well they’ll remember who they answer to, my queen.”

He would deal with this.

And after he had put those foul men in their place, he’d make sure you’d be the happiest you could be and your wedding would be perfect and just the way the two of you had imagined for so long…

my taglist: @princesschimchim1325 @cecestea @jacesvelaryons @princessvelaryon @diannnnsss

#jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jace velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jace targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #hotd #jacaerys targaryen x you

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shaadiwish · 1 year

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Share these mother of the bride and groom outfit inspirations with your mom and let her rock at your wedding. For more, visit ShaadiWish.com.

#colour coordinated outfit ideas #heavy embroidered suit #kanjeevaram saree #mom daughter duo #mother #mother of bride outfit ideas #mother of the bride #mother of the groom #mother son duo #mother wedding outfit ideas #saree #Wedding Lehenga #wedding outfit inspirations #Shaadiwish

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thedensworld · 3 months

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Right Time | K.Mg

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader

Genre: Angst, exes au

Summary: you both were too young when you get together, right person-wrong time. Two years after break up, destiny brought you two again.

Author note: i'm sorry, you've asked for fluff but i serve you angst :(

Mingyu stood beside Seungcheol, both of them watching Jeonghan, who was all smiles an hour before his wedding vows, as he greeted the guests who had come to celebrate his special day. Mingyu sighed, thinking that the day had finally come. Jeonghan had been under immense stress these past months, preparing for his wedding. He had been going through food tastings, making decoration decisions, getting suit fittings, and juggling his very busy job to earn enough money to give his future wife her dream wedding. Mingyu was tired of being his friend and unofficial personal punching bag.

Just then, Mingyu's eyes shifted to a three-year-old girl running toward them, and his smile immediately grew wider. Seungcheol picked up his daughter, giving her all his attention while her mother, Seungcheol's wife, was busy with her bridesmaid duties as the sister of the bride.

The little girl giggled in her father's arms, her joy infectious. "Daddy, look! Flowers!" she exclaimed, pointing at the floral arrangements that adorned the venue.

Mingyu chuckled, feeling a sense of warmth wash over him. Despite the chaos and the stress, moments like these made it all worth it. He glanced at Seungcheol, who was whispering something to his daughter that made her laugh even harder. Mingyu couldn't help but feel a pang of envy mixed with happiness for his friend.

"She's a bundle of energy, isn't she?" Mingyu remarked, smiling at the scene.

Seungcheol nodded, his eyes twinkling with pride. "She definitely keeps us on our toes."

As they stood there, watching the guests mingle and Jeonghan's nervous excitement, Mingyu realized that despite all the stress and exhaustion, witnessing his friend's happiness was something truly special. Today was a day for celebration, a day to cherish, and a day that marked the beginning of a beautiful journey for Jeonghan and his future wife.

Flowers hung elegantly, their sweet fragrance blending with the smell of freshly baked goods and sumptuous food. The lively chatter of people filled the air, a symphony of joyous voices. All of these scenes were too familiar to Mingyu. He sighed, the memories flooding back, reminding him of his first meeting with you at Seungcheol's wedding.

You were Seungcheol's wife's cousin and one of the bridesmaids, while he was one of the groomsmen. Mingyu vividly remembered watching you during the wedding preparations. He saw you running around, talking, and dealing with the organizer to ensure everything ran smoothly while the bride and groom enjoyed their final moments of calm before entering a new stage of life.

Your first interaction was unforgettable. Mingyu had saved you from a potential disaster when you almost tripped over a cable and fell into the dessert section. He immediately grabbed your arm, pulling you to safety, your body colliding with his.

"You good?" Mingyu asked, noticing the color drain from your face.

A heavy breath escaped your mouth. "I almost got myself in trouble," you mumbled, trying to steady yourself while your heart still pounded rapidly.

"Thanks... Mingyu, right?"

Mingyu nodded, giving you a reassuring smile. "Do you need help?" he asked, noticing how rushed you were earlier.

"Oh shoot! I need to go," you exclaimed, holding a key.

'You want to leave now?' he thought.

"The second dress was left at the hotel. They have to change in an hour," you explained after Mingyu inquired about your urgency.

Mingyu's eyes widened as panic surged through him. "Let me drive you there," he offered. You nodded, handing him the key, and the two of you sprinted to the car.

Just as you were about to leave, you received a call. It turned out your mother had already brought the dress, and it was in her car. The rush of adrenaline subsided, and both of you couldn't help but laugh at the chaos.

"Guess we didn't need to be superheroes today," Mingyu joked, relieved.

"Yeah, but thank you," you said, a warm smile spreading across your face. "I really appreciate your help."

After that day, the two of you kept in touch. Mingyu eventually confessed that he had a crush on you and asked you out on a date, which you gladly accepted. Months later, you were officially dating. Seungcheol and his wife were thrilled, knowing they had played a part in bringing you together. However, they were equally flustered when, three years later, Seungcheol was informed that you and Mingyu had broken up.

Three years of dating, and it's now been two years since you separated. Despite the passage of time, not a single minute went by without Mingyu thinking of you.

As he stood there, watching Jeonghan’s wedding preparations, the memories of your relationship played in his mind like a film. He remembered the laughter, the shared dreams, and even the arguments that made the bond stronger. You were his best friend, his confidant, and losing you felt like losing a part of himself.

Mingyu sighed, the weight of nostalgia heavy on his heart. The sight of the beautifully decorated venue, the smell of flowers, and the sound of joyous chatter brought everything back in vivid detail. He couldn't help but wonder what you were doing now, if you were happy, and if you ever thought about him too.

He glanced at Seungcheol, who was busy with his daughter, and thought about the twists and turns life takes. Love is unpredictable, he mused. One moment you're on top of the world, and the next, you're struggling to find your footing.

Despite the bittersweet memories, Mingyu felt a glimmer of hope. Today was a day of celebration, a reminder that love, in all its forms, is worth cherishing. As Jeonghan prepared to embark on his own journey of love, Mingyu silently wished for a future where he might find happiness again, perhaps even with you.

As Mingyu stood lost in his thoughts, he suddenly caught sight of you entering the venue. His heart skipped a beat, and he blinked several times, thinking he might be daydreaming. But you were really there, looking breathtaking in a beautiful dress that perfectly complemented your skin tone. Your hair was longer than he remembered, cascading gracefully down your back, and the sight of you took his breath away.

For a moment, everything else faded into the background. The smell of flowers, the chatter of the guests, the sight of Jeonghan greeting everyone—all of it became a blur as Mingyu's focus zeroed in on you. His heart pounded in his chest, beating the same way it did the first time he saw you.

He couldn't tear his eyes away. Every step you took seemed to bring back a flood of memories: your first date, the countless laughs, the shared moments of vulnerability, and even the quiet, content times you spent together doing nothing at all. Mingyu's pulse quickened as he watched you smile and greet the other guests, looking as radiant as ever.

Suddenly, Seungcheol noticed the shift in Mingyu’s demeanor. Following his friend's gaze, Seungcheol’s eyes landed on you, and he gave Mingyu a knowing smile. "Go talk to her," Seungcheol encouraged softly, nudging him forward.

Mingyu hesitated for a second, a mix of anxiety and excitement swirling inside him. Taking a deep breath, he began to make his way through the crowd toward you. Each step felt like an eternity, but eventually, he stood before you.

You looked up, and your eyes met his. For a brief moment, everything else disappeared, and it was just the two of you. The surprise in your eyes mirrored his own, and a small, nostalgic smile played on your lips.

"Hi," Mingyu said, his voice barely above a whisper, his emotions threatening to spill over.

"Hi," you replied, your voice soft yet filled with a warmth that made his heart ache.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, simply taking in the sight of each other after so long. Then, Mingyu found his voice again. "You look... amazing. More beautiful than ever."

A blush crept up your cheeks, and you looked down for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "Thank you, Mingyu. It's been a while."

"Yeah, it has," he said, struggling to keep his emotions in check.

Mingyu opened his mouth to say more, but the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. His nervousness intensified, making him momentarily forget how to speak. You offered him a gentle, understanding smile, perhaps sensing his hesitation.

"I should go greet the bride," you said softly, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. "We'll catch up later, okay?"

Mingyu nodded, unable to trust his voice, and watched as you gracefully walked away toward the bride. His heart sank a little, disappointment mixing with his nerves. He had so much he wanted to say, but the opportunity had slipped through his fingers.

Seungcheol, who had been observing the interaction from a distance, walked up to Mingyu with a knowing look. "You alright, buddy?" he asked, clapping a hand on Mingyu's shoulder.

Mingyu let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. "I froze, Seungcheol. I couldn’t say anything meaningful."

Seungcheol chuckled softly. "It's understandable. It's been a long time, and seeing her again can stir up a lot of emotions."

Mingyu nodded, his eyes still following you as you chatted with the bride and other bridesmaids. "I just... I didn't expect to feel this way. It's like no time has passed at all, and I still... I still care about her so much."

Seungcheol gave him a sympathetic smile. "Feelings like that don’t just disappear. But hey, you have the whole day ahead. There will be plenty of opportunities to talk to her. Maybe start with something simple, like asking her to dance."

Mingyu glanced at Seungcheol, a hint of hope in his eyes. "You think so?"

Seungcheol nodded confidently. "Absolutely. Just be yourself, Mingyu. You two had something special, and who knows? Maybe today is a chance to rekindle that."

Taking a deep breath, Mingyu tried to calm his racing heart. "Thanks, Seungcheol. I’ll give it a shot."

As the ceremony drew closer, Mingyu resolved to find the right moment to talk to you again. He couldn't let fear hold him back. Today was about new beginnings, and perhaps, it could be the start of something beautiful for both of you.

After the wedding vows, it was time for the group photos. Mingyu positioned himself not too far from the newlyweds, while you stood directly in front of him. The familiar scent of your perfume and your hair, the same fragrance you always wore when you were together, wafted toward him, triggering a flood of memories.

As the photographer arranged everyone into position, you brushed your hair back, and that's when Mingyu noticed it—a ring wrapped around your left finger. His heart sank, and a wave of conflicting emotions washed over him. You’re engaged? he wondered, his mind racing.

A mix of shock, sadness, and confusion gripped him. Part of him had held onto the hope that, despite the time and distance, there might still be a chance for the two of you to rekindle what you once had. But now, seeing that ring, reality hit him hard.

He tried to keep his composure, but his mind was in turmoil. He remembered all the moments you shared, the dreams you talked about, the future you once envisioned together. The thought of you being engaged to someone else was like a punch to the gut.

Mingyu forced a smile for the camera, but inside, he felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under him. He glanced at you, wondering if you were truly happy and if the person who had given you that ring knew just how special you were. Did they know your little quirks, your favorite things, and the way your eyes lit up when you talked about something you loved?

The photographer called for everyone to get closer, and Mingyu found himself standing right behind you. The scent of your perfume was almost overwhelming now, and he struggled to focus on anything else. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart.

As the flash went off, Mingyu realized he had to accept the situation. He had no right to feel jealous or upset. You had moved on, found happiness with someone else, and that was something he needed to respect. But the realization didn't make the pain any less.

After the photos were taken, Mingyu stepped aside, feeling a profound sense of loss. He had to come to terms with the fact that you were no longer his and that your paths had diverged. But as he watched you laugh and talk with the other guests, he couldn't help but hope that whoever had given you that ring cherished you as much as he did.

As Mingyu stepped aside after the photos, a deep sense of regret washed over him, intensifying with each passing moment. The sight of the ring on your finger brought back the memory of the night you asked to separate. He had replayed that scene countless times in his mind, wishing he had done things differently.

He remembered how you had looked at him, your eyes filled with a mix of sadness and determination. "Mingyu, I think we need to take a break," you had said, your voice trembling slightly. At the time, he had been too caught up in his own confusion and frustration to truly understand the depth of your feelings.

Instead of staying and talking things through, he had walked away, convinced that space would be the best solution. He thought that maybe, with time, things would work themselves out. But as the days turned into weeks and then months, the distance between you only grew, and before he knew it, you were gone from his life.

Now, standing at Jeonghan's wedding, the weight of his decision felt heavier than ever. He regretted leaving that night, regretted not fighting harder for what you had. He should have listened, should have stayed to understand the fears and doubts you were experiencing. Instead, he had let his pride and stubbornness drive a wedge between you.

Mingyu's eyes followed you as you mingled with the other guests, your laughter ringing out, a bittersweet sound to his ears. You seemed happy, and that was what he wanted for you, even if it wasn't with him. But the regret gnawed at him, a constant reminder of what he had lost.

As the evening progressed, Mingyu found himself lost in thought, barely aware of the festivities around him. Seungcheol, noticing his friend's distant expression, approached him once more.

"You okay?" Seungcheol asked gently, his concern evident.

Mingyu sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just... I keep thinking about the night we broke up. I should have stayed, Seungcheol. I should have fought for her."

Seungcheol nodded, understanding the pain in Mingyu's voice. "We all make mistakes, Mingyu. What's important is what you do now. Maybe it's time to let go of the past and focus on the present. Who knows? Maybe there's still a chance for you to find closure, if not with her, then within yourself."

Mingyu pondered Seungcheol's words, knowing there was truth in them. He couldn't change the past, but he could learn from it. And maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to move forward.

As the night went on, Mingyu made a silent promise to himself. He would try to find peace with his regrets and open his heart to whatever the future might hold. And as he watched you, now engaged and seemingly content, he wished you nothing but happiness, even if it meant letting go of the dreams he once had for the two of you.

The little things had snowballed into something that finally hit you that night. You were exhausted from work, your phone buzzing incessantly with texts from Mingyu. Just as you managed to lay yourself on the couch, the door suddenly burst open, revealing Mingyu looking restless and breathless.

"Where have you been?! I've been trying to reach you all day," he demanded, his voice tinged with frustration and worry.

You sighed deeply, turning your back to him, too drained to respond. Mingyu let out a humorless chuckle, stepping closer. He grabbed your shoulder and turned you around, not realizing his strength might hurt you, and shoved his phone in your face, displaying your unread chat messages from the past week.

"You haven't read my texts for almost a week, Y/N. Don't you know I'm worried?!"

You felt the sting of his grip, but more than that, the sting of the situation settled heavily in your chest. You placed your hand on the sore spot, rising from the couch with what little energy you had left, trying to walk away to the bedroom without a word.

"Now you think I'm invisible? What the fuck, Y/N?" Mingyu's voice rose, a mix of anger and hurt.

Tears welled up in your eyes, a combination of physical pain, exhaustion, and emotional turmoil. You turned to face Mingyu, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just so tired, Mingyu. Tired of everything."

He stood there, watching you closely, his initial anger fading as he saw the tears streaming down your face. "Why didn't you just tell me?" His tone softened now, filled with concern.

You shook your head, feeling overwhelmed by the weight of everything. "I didn't want to burden you. You've got your own things to deal with."

Mingyu's expression softened further, but a flicker of hurt crossed his features. "We're supposed to share the burdens, remember? That's what being together means."

You looked into his eyes, searching for the reassurance you desperately needed. "I know," you admitted softly, "but it feels like we've been drifting apart. And tonight, I just... I couldn't handle it."

Mingyu's concern turned into frustration, his voice rising slightly. "So you decided to handle it all on your own? Do you know how that makes me feel, Y/N?"

You flinched at the edge in his voice, feeling the weight of his disappointment. "Mingyu, I didn't mean..."

"No," he interrupted, his tone sharp. "You didn't mean to shut me out when I've been trying so hard to be there for you?"

You bit your lip, tears now flowing freely. "I... I didn't know how to ask for help. I thought I could handle it."

"And now look where we are," Mingyu said bitterly, running a hand through his hair. "You're drowning in silence, and I'm left feeling useless."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I didn't realize..."

Mingyu closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to calm himself. When he opened them again, his gaze softened, but the hurt was still evident. "I love you, Y/N," he said quietly. "But I can't keep fighting for a place in your life if you won't let me in."

You reached out to him, wanting to bridge the distance between you. "Mingyu, please..."

He stepped back, shaking his head. "I need time to figure things out, Y/N. I can't do this if you're pushing me away."

You felt a hollow ache in your chest as Mingyu's words hung in the air. The idea of losing him was unbearable, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you were dragging him down, that you were undeserving of his love and patience. Summoning what little strength you had left, you took a shaky breath and spoke the words that felt like shards of glass in your throat.

"Mingyu," you began, your voice trembling, "maybe it's best if we... if we take a break."

His eyes widened in shock, the hurt in them deepening. "What? No, Y/N, that's not what I want."

You shook your head, tears still streaming down your face. "I can't keep hurting you like this. You deserve someone who can let you in, someone who can be there for you the way you are for me. And right now, I just... I can't."

"I need to figure things out on my own. I need to learn how to be okay with myself before I can be with you."

He looked at you for a long moment, searching for any sign that you might change your mind. When he found none, he nodded slowly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "If that's what you really want..."

"It's not what I want," you said, your voice barely audible. "But it's what I think is best for both of us."

With one last, lingering look, Mingyu turned and walked away, each step feeling like a knife to your heart. You watched him go, knowing that you were making the hardest decision of your life, hoping that someday, you could find your way back to each other.

As the door closed behind him, you sank to the floor, overcome with grief and loneliness. The silence of the room was deafening, but you knew that this was the first step towards healing, for both you and Mingyu.

As the door clicked shut behind Mingyu, a wave of emptiness washed over you, mingled with an unsettling sense of disappointment. You had expected him to protest more, to fight harder to stay. Instead, he had walked away, leaving you to grapple with the decision alone.

You sat there, staring at the door, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic whirlpool. The weight of his absence pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe. Was this really what you wanted? Or had you hoped, deep down, that he would refuse to leave, that he would insist on staying and helping you through this?

The room felt colder, the silence oppressive. Your mind replayed the conversation, analyzing every word, every gesture. Had he given up too easily? Or was it your fault for pushing him away in the first place?

As you sat there, the silence of the room pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket. The ache in your chest grew with each passing second. Your thoughts spiraled deeper into despair, and a new, more insidious fear began to take root.

Maybe Mingyu had had enough of you. Maybe he was already tired of dealing with your endless complications and emotional turmoil. Maybe he, like everyone else, had decided you weren't worth the fight.

Your mind flashed back to countless moments in your past, memories you had tried so hard to bury. You remembered the times when your emotions had been dismissed, your thoughts invalidated. When you had tried to reach out, only to be met with indifference or impatience.

Your parents, who had always told you to toughen up, to stop being so sensitive. Friends who had drifted away because your struggles were too much for them to handle. Teachers who had dismissed your anxiety as laziness, your depression as a phase. You had learned, painfully and slowly, that you had to figure things out on your own because no one else would.

And now Mingyu had done the same. The last person you had hoped would stick by you had walked away. You had pushed him, yes, but you had also hoped, deep down, that he would push back. That he would prove he was different. But he hadn't.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, and you let them fall, each one a testament to the weight of your pain. It felt like you were falling into an abyss, a dark void where every painful memory and fear resurfaced.

You recalled a particularly vivid memory from your childhood. You were eight years old, sitting on the steps of your house, crying because the neighborhood kids had teased you for being different. Your mother had found you there, her expression a mixture of exasperation and disappointment.

"Why are you crying again?" she had asked, her tone sharp. "You need to learn to handle things on your own. The world isn't going to coddle you."

That had been the first of many lessons in self-reliance, each one more painful than the last. You had learned to hide your pain, to smile when you were breaking inside, to carry burdens that felt too heavy to bear.

And now, sitting alone in the silence of your apartment, you realized that those lessons had led you to this moment. You had pushed Mingyu away, convinced that you had to handle everything on your own, that you were too much for anyone else to handle. And he had walked away, just like everyone else.

The weight of your loneliness was crushing. You curled up on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, and let the sobs wrack your body. It felt like your heart was breaking into a million pieces, each one sharper than the last.

You stayed there for what felt like hours, lost in the whirlwind of your thoughts and memories. Eventually, the tears slowed, and a cold numbness settled in. You knew you had to pick yourself up, to move forward somehow. But the path ahead felt more daunting than ever.

Maybe you were destined to be alone, to carry your burdens without help. Maybe you were too complicated, too difficult for anyone to truly love. And maybe, just maybe, the one person you had thought would fight for you had finally realized it too.

With a heavy heart, you forced yourself to stand, wiping away the remnants of your tears. You knew you had to find a way to heal, to navigate this pain. But for now, all you could do was take one small step at a time, hoping that someday, you might find the strength to believe in love again.

Seungcheol entered the car as soon as his daughter was settled in the backseat. He threw one last glance through the rearview mirror and smiled at the sight of her slumbering after spending all of her energy today. Her peaceful face was a welcome relief from the emotional turmoil of the evening.

"Are we gonna let him be like that?" Nari's voice broke the silence, and Seungcheol could sense she was referring to Mingyu.

He turned on the engine and hummed thoughtfully, "It's the best for him right now."

Nari stared at Seungcheol with a worried look, her concern evident. "But Y/N is not engaged. It's just a ring," she said, finally voicing the worry she'd been holding since the venue at Jeonghan's wedding.

"That's exactly why this is best for him," Seungcheol replied. "He couldn't even confront her and ask about the ring. He just stood there, trapped in his own thoughts, just like what happened two years ago."

Images of you and Mingyu after the breakup flashed through his mind. Mingyu, lost in his own assumptions, believing you didn't want him anymore. You, burdened by your unfinished past and struggling to heal.

"Y/N is different now, though," Nari insisted softly. "She's healed. Maybe there's a chance for them."

Seungcheol glanced at his wife and chuckled softly. "And what about Mingyu? Boys never learn, babe. It takes a man to confront a woman."

Nari sighed deeply, her eyes reflecting a mix of hope and sadness. "I just thought they were 'the right people at the wrong time.'"

Seungcheol grabbed his wife's hand and pecked it gently. "There is no 'right time,' babe. People make the time right. Mingyu couldn't do that. He might look perfect on the outside, but he's still a human with his own flaws."

Nari looked out the window, her thoughts seemingly far away. "Do you think they'll ever get another chance?"

Seungcheol was quiet for a moment, considering her question. "Maybe. Life has a way of bringing people back together when the time is right. But for now, they need to work on themselves. Y/N has come a long way, and Mingyu needs to catch up."

"But," Seungcheol continued, his voice filled with a mixture of hope and realism, "if they are truly meant to be, they'll find their way back to each other. And if not, they'll still be stronger and better for having known each other."

Nari squeezed his hand gently, her eyes softening. "I hope so. They both deserve happiness."

Seungcheol smiled at her, appreciating her empathy. "They do. And they'll find it, one way or another. We just have to give them time and trust that they'll make the right choices."

As they drove away from the venue, the city lights gradually fading into the distance, Seungcheol felt a sense of peace settle over him. He hoped that Mingyu and you would find the courage to face your fears and the strength to build the lives you deserved. For now, all he could do was support his friend and trust that everything would unfold as it should.

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #densworld🌼#seventeen scenarios #seventeen series #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagine #mingyu imagines #mingyu fanfic #mingyu x reader #mingyu angst #mingyu fluff #mingyu fic #kim mingyu imagines #mingyu imagine

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ldrfanatic · 4 months

Text

one last souvenir from my trip to your shores

thank you so much for 800 followers!!!

here’s a little summer in Italy with theo (from theo’s perspective)

06.04.2024

song title is from the manuscript but I promise this is a happy fic

works slytherin boys

wc - 1.1k

theo nott was decidedly the happiest 16-year old boy in all of europe right now. hell, maybe in all of the world. here he was, on a pebbly italian beach, sun warming his skin, and his beautiful girlfriend curled up on the beach chair next to him.

he felt his heart begin to swell as he watched the scene in front of him. you’d laid between his legs, your head rested against his abdomen and your soft hair tickling his skin. you were reading some muggle romance novel. he didn’t know the name of it, but he knew it was your favorite.

your new medusa charm sunglasses were perched on top of your forehead. you’d shoved them up there maybe 15 or so minutes ago with a complaint that they made it difficult to read.

the versace glasses had been a gift from theo.

in fact, despite your avid protests, he was very insistent on buying you a whole new summer wardrobe for the trip. theo smiled to himself as he thought on the weeks ahead. after many pleas from you, and heaps of charm from theo, your parents had begrudgingly allowed you to spend half the summer break with theo in italy.

the two of you were staying in the nott family’s summer home there. when he was younger, theo used to visit every summer, but he hadn’t been back since his mother passed. the cliffside home sat empty for so long that the two of you had to scourgify layers of dust off of every surface.

it was going on your second week of a blissful vacation. only one week into a six week trip, theo couldn’t help but feel giddy, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

“bellissima,”

you held one finger in his direction, an indication for him to hold his piece for a moment. theo felt amusement curl along his lips into a smile.

after a short (agonizing) eternity, you closed the book around your index finger and tilted your head backwards until your eyes met his, your head now completely resting on his stomach.

as your eyes found his, theo felt his mouth go dry. butterflies knocked around in his stomach threatening to crawl up his throat at any given moment. no matter how much time he spent with you, you still turned him into a blushing boy with only a look. it should be a punishable offense to be so beautiful and so very sweet.

theo wasn’t sure how he managed to land a literal angel from heaven itself but he knew one thing for sure: he was never letting you go.

pulling himself from his blissful thoughts, theo allowed a large hand to snake down until his palm rested against the softness of your stomach.

“affamato?”

over the course of your relationship, you’d picked up a few words and phrases from theo. when he so often spoke in his mother tongue, it was kind of unavoidable. theo rubbed his hand in smooth small circles. the content smile that graced your lips made theo’s insides feel like they were on the wrong side of gravity.

“i could eat.”

but neither of you moved. finally, you placed the small love note you’d been using as a bookmark in between the pages and closed your novel. then you turned over onto your stomach so as to look at your boyfriend properly.

theo’s arms snaked around you instinctively, pulling you impossibly closer to him. he tried not to look at your the tops of your soft breasts which were now pressed so much against him that they started to spill from the confines of your bathing suit. he may be your boyfriend, but he was also a gentleman. his mammina had taught him to always be a gentleman and always take really really good care of his women.

despite his best attempts, theo felt his eyes water involuntarily. the moment he saw you, he knew you would be his bride. he felt very strongly that you were sent to him by his mother. a parting gift.

the warmth of the sun, the sweetness of your smile. they felt like hugs and kisses from her. when he first met you, theo felt something. a feeling that had left with his mother’s last breath, and had yet to return. until you came along.

“let’s get you food, bambina.”

you didn’t question his teary appearance. you always understood him without a single syllable from his lips and this time was no different.

you packed all of your belongings back into your marc jacobs tote bag (another gift from theo) and picked up your sandal. when you turned to him, hair blowing in the beach breeze, and free hand outstretched to him, theo felt his heart tightening once again.

“i’ll be along soon. there’s something i have to do first.”

with a soft nod of your head, you took off on the path back to the chateau. theo watched you leave, waiting until you were safely inside the house before turning back to the waves. he didn’t smile, or move much at all. he just watched the waves crash and allowed his senses to be overwhelmed with the sweetness of the tyrrhenian sea. his mother’s favorite place on earth. the last place he saw her smile.

theo took a deep breath and allowed the words to flow naturally from his lips. he didn’t fight them or his emotions. he just spoke.

“mamma, i can feel your presence surrounding me. your spirit lives on in every beat of my heart and every breath i take. i want to thank you, mamma, for everything you've given me – for your love, your guidance, and your unwavering support. she's a gift, mammina, a true blessing, and i can't help but believe that you had a hand in bringing her into my life. her laughter echoes yours, and her kindness reflects the warmth of your embrace. thank you for sending her to me. i promise to cherish her, mamma. i miss you so much and one day, we'll be reunited. until then, i carry your love in my heart, knowing that you're always watching over me.”

theo took in another deep breath, the air suddenly feeling tight in his throat. “grazie, mamma, for everything. ti amo, e ci vediamo tra un paio di decenni.”

(i love you, and i’ll see you in a couple of decades)

theo taglist

@moonlightreader649 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess @nighttimemoonlover

#slytherin boys #theodore nott #slytherin #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #slytherin boys x reader #taylor swift fanfiction #ttpd #lorenzo zurzolo

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heavenbloom · 4 months

Text

🇵🇸 BEFORE YOU READ:

DAILY CLICK • BOYCOTT TLOU • DONATE

please do not skip over this! continuing to support palestine in any way possible is much more important than reading any piece of fanfiction.

𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒊: 𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒏

knight!abby x princess!reader

summary: your plans to usurp your despotic brother are halted when he assigns one of his strongest knights to keep an eye on you. what will wither and what will blossom in her presence?

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, political elements, fem afab reader, princess reader is manipulative, extensive descriptions of blood and violence, graphic depiction of murder, subtle enemies to lovers (more so in next chapter), degrading terms used in a non-sexual manner, insults, profanity, probably ooc?, not edited, reader discretion advised

a/n: this is HEAVILY inspired by The Jasmine Throne by Tasha Suri. this song is the atmosphere i was going for if you wanted to listen while reading!! dedicating this to @catfern, love you <3

wc: 4.7k

The corpse-quiet hours before dawn settled over the world with the languidness of dripping wax. There was a tenseness to it, beneath the silence, the twinings of a tautly strung instrument. You could smell it on the breeze too, a lick of disturbance carried sharply on the air alongside the fragrance of jasmine and rose. This night was a thing too tender for imminence, you thought, as you watched off-white petals scatter across pristine marble.

You felt it in your bones first, as it reverberated through the night. It felt like rolling thunder across the mountainside, but it was far too regimented to be birthed from mother nature. No, you knew this sound as intimately as your own heartbeat.

Hoofbeats. Steadfast, almost urgent, as they ascended towards the palace. Through your balcony, you could see a sea of them, clad in the pure white of moonlight and the gold of dawn. At the very front jostled a garish carriage swathed in the same colours, flying your nation’s flags. You stepped further out onto the balcony. A retinue, a homecoming. Your brother has returned.

Of course, ease slid through your veins at the fact that it was not a darker reality encroaching, but it curdled instantaneously, soured by the notion that you would merely be a marionette tugged upon and prettied up in order to appease him. A dutiful princess, you would play the part of orator, musician, perhaps finally bride to a stranger if the King and all his attendants had his way. What were you but a flower with an endless array of malleable petals to be arranged this way and that?

You drank in the perfumed scents that swirled around you, a sigh passing your parted lips. The silk curtains of your suite lifted like a breath, the solid colour broken apart by somebody familiar, whose chest rattled for the solace of fresh air.

Your features did not falter as your eyes remained fixed upon the retinue fast approaching. The girl, one of your many pairs of watchful eyes, strode towards you, sweat upon her brow, a worrisome crease at the youthful corner of her lips. You remained fixed as you felt the brush of rough parchment against your smooth palm.

Politics was a game played by degrees, after all. It demanded quiet, the slithering of a black-belllied snake in the grass, waiting for the perfect moment to coil around its prey and squeeze. You let the paper unfurl against the wind, let it flap in the air as you read word upon word scrawled onto the page with an unsteady hand.

You knew what you hungered for, the prey that dangled just out of reach above your open maw. It glistened deepest oceanic blue cast in gold, and it sat safely atop of your tyrannical brother’s head.

Like all noble daughters, you knew that patience was a virtue. Things did not fall easily into your lap, so you would have to work for it, a dog searching ceaselessly for a single scrap of bone. You would let the meat of the empire simmer, wait until it was your turn to have your fill.

The parchment began to crinkle under the ferocity of your grip as your brother flashed through your mind. His smile, all canines. The cruelty that lurked just beneath the surface of that untarnished exterior.

With a fiery savagery singing in your veins, you silently declared that his crown would be yours.

𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

The day’s last light was beginning to wither away, its last breath sweeping across the courtyard below and setting it ablaze. The air that seemed like an extension of your own lungs the night before was cloying now, pollen stuck in the crevice of your throat and tightening it with fist-strength.

There were certain things you expected of your brother, but this…

Your eyes flitted from the balustrade to the woman who stood just behind the gauzy silk draped across the doorway. She had a straight spine to match the strength in her features. Slight aquiline nose, plump lips, and those eyes, crystalline blue but honed from years of slinking, silent observation. There was no denying the touch of regality woven throughout her being. If somebody had said she were an empress from some distant land, you would have believed them.

It wasn’t such an extravagance that granted you with her presence, though. A white cape threaded with gold was draped around her armour-laden shoulders. There was a sword at her hip, but the breadth of her body alone was enough to make anybody hesitate.

This woman, whose body was carved for the gruesomeness of the battle, was to be your watchful knight, under oath to quash any harm that may arise.

A bitterness rose from the pit of your stomach to the back of your throat. Sworn protector. The words thrummed in your skull like jailer. It was clear from her unbroken gaze alone where her loyalties were placed, at the feet of your brother and your brother alone.

You were the first to break your eyes away, demurely, subtle but unerringly feminine, and more importantly, inferior. Your spine was straight, but you hung your head slightly, letting your eyes wander along the outline of lush greenery below. Your hands skimmed along the finery that swathed your body. You appeared reticent and meagre, but every minute movement was deliberate on your part, a dance in which you knew all the steps.

Her shadow of a presence was a setback, certainly, something to keep you at bay, but if you wove the right tale, spun an intricacy of honeyed words and laid syrupy sweetness upon her… this one, like any other, could be used, moulded and rolled like clay with the right pressure. All you had to do was locate a chink in her armour.

You gave a hesitant pause, counted to three, until you walked the expanse of the balcony, back into your quarters, the tinkling of weighty jewellery sounding with each step you took. Even closer, she appeared much more powerful, the jagged lines of her face schooled into sternness. The refusal to drop her gaze in the presence of her new lady sent a shiver down your spine.

“Abigail.” Your voice was gentle, the lulling of a flute. “I am grateful for your service. To my dear brother, of course, but especially to me.” You stepped closer to her, but remained at a polite distance, a benevolent smile gracing your lips.

Her face remained the same, but there was a slight quirk to her thick brows. She was used to doing bloody work for the King, but you could tell that she was unused to interacting with royalty. “My loyalty is to the crown. I would do anything His Majesty asked of me, princess.” Ah, what a well trained response. As expected of one of the most renowned weapons in your brother’s arsenal.

“Yes, and it warms my heart.” You ensured your smile widened, your eyebrows softening in tandem with the lovely upward curve of your mouth. “I have heard stories of your bravery. To have such a hero protect myself alone… well, it feels rather a waste of talent, does it not?”

Her lips parted for a moment at the steer in conversation. You could see the hardness melting from her face like butter, replaced by an expression unreadable. It was too early to tell whether there was now a weakness to strike at, but it was better than talking to the righteous facade of her. “My talents can be just as useful in the Royal Palace as they would be on the battlefield.” Her words were as certain as solid stone, unmoving in their conviction.

“Such a noble heart you have.” You let the distance close between the two of you, then, your body just a few mere inches away from steel. Your hand met the one at her side, soft fingers grazing across leather, the cool hilt of her sword brushing against your knuckles. “But you do not need to protect me. Guards swarm this palace, after all.”

You expected abashment, the averting of that steady, unbreakable gaze, but not so much as a twitch of her fingers was drawn out of her. Still, you pressed on, as a thumb circled a spot on her gloved hand. “You would be better suited to attacking any threats at the root, dear knight. I could arrange you to be back where you once were. Not here, not with me.”

These lies, this faux flattery, left your tongue with the ease of second nature. You had none of the power you wished to possess, and you could not fulfil any such promise to her, but a few sweetened words could at least put you in her good favour, string her along for at least for a few moments outside of her obstructive gaze.

Something flashed across her features, but it was not the distant yearning for battle, not even the consideration of your hefty offer. You felt her thick fingers slip, gently, out of your grasp. Shock burst in your chest when her lips curled into a smile. Not completely unkind, but belittling all the same.

“The way we view honour differs greatly, princess.” Her mouth shaped the words slowly, deliberately and they hung in the air like an accusation. The last of the sun filtered through the balcony, causing the stray hairs framing her face to shine gold, the dust of freckles on her cheeks to appear like a smattering of starlight. You were once again struck by the wondrous beauty of her, a blow to the ribs.

You urged the swell in your guts down hastily.

“Is it so dishonourable,” you started, choosing to focus instead on that same jagged ambition that ate away at you, “to desire glory for oneself?”

The eyes that you thought resembled a pristine shoreline now darkened with the implications of your question. You watched as the storm passed across her face, as the act of noble knight swallowed her whole once more.

“Glory means nothing if it is not for the sake of serving the King.” She finally averted her gaze to the rolling gardens below.

“Our King.”

𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

Thunder rippled across the charred night sky, the rain beating against the earth with the ferocity of a thousand rapid heartbeats. Your quarters burst white and fizzled with each lightning strike, and you could see the dozing face of Abigail each time. She laid, with one arm cradling the back of her head, in a cot at the foot of your bed, her golden-brown lashes long enough to cast wispy shadows on the apples of her cheeks under the inconsistent light. Even in her sleep, she seemed to be withholding herself from you, despite the stretch of days you had spent together thus far.

Beneath the writhing rage that clawed at your insides, you felt a soft pang, something faint and unfamiliar, for this woman. She was forced to live her days, in utter numbness, waiting for an attack on your life that would never come. She was here to intimidate you into compliance, at your brother’s whims, and she was completely unaware of it. To be a pawn in such a twisted game unwittingly… It was cruel. But weren’t you attempting to do the exact same? The hypocrisy was completely not lost on you.

You watched her sleeping figure for a few more moments until you were certain she was asleep. Then, soundlessly, you slipped out of the embrace of your bed. The air was cool but heavy with humidity as you walked on the balls of your bare feet, your nightgown brushing your ankles and sending an anxious tremble up your body. You tried to move as swiftly as you could. Your spies and confidants were loyal enough, but even they would not wait out the entire night for you when there was other work to be done at dawn.

An electric thrill jolted your being when you clasped the door handle. Was evading her watchful eye really so easy? Was all you had to do is slink around in the deep hours of dark? You bit down a smile as the heavy door gave way . Freedom, for a few mere minutes at least, was just beyond the door…

“My Lady?” Something glacial hardened in your veins. The voice was hoarse with the remnants of slumber, but there was no doubting the razor-edge awareness of it.

For a beat, you were too stunned to face her. When you didn’t turn, she spoke again. “Princess, what are you doing out of bed?”

What was the safest way to avoid her suspicion? The crashing of thunder sliced through your thoughts like a knife, offering you an escape route on a silver platter.

You whorled around, your eyebrows high-strung. Abigail was sitting upright, her head tilted and her unbound blonde hair dripping over one shoulder. There was no armour covering the wide expanse of her chest, a rare exposure of bare collarbone and surprisingly soft skin. You would perhaps never get used to the sight.

You clutched the fabric of your nightgown and widened your eyes, fawn-frightened. “Abigail, I…” you let your voice taper off into a quiver.

She was up in an instant and striding towards you, brows knitted together. Despite the urgency vibrating every cell in her body, her large hands cupped your shoulders with a gentleness you thought so disjointed for a woman of her size and profession. You doubted she would have touched you if it weren’t for the haze of confusion that overpowered her usual meticulousness.

“What is the matter? Speak to me, princess.”

“I-it’s absurd, I…” You trembled ever so slightly and could only pray that you were convincing. “The storm… well, it frightened me. I apologise. You mustn't be used to such frivolity.”

The tautness of her bow-strung body seemed to drift away all at once. Her shoulders drooped and she smiled, this time a thing of pure relief. “Is that all that this is?”

You nodded once, pulling yourself inward more and silently thanking whichever god had just granted you quick wits. She tsked softly and brought you closer to her. The warmth of her body was comforting, as alive as the spark upon a coal.

“You can wake me when you’re frightened, my lady,” she breathed out, her breath rustling the hair at your ear.

“I thought– I didn’t wish to burden you.” For once, there was a distasteful speck of truth in your words. She was a thing too gentle and straightforward for the ugliness of court politics. How could you ask her to help you usurp a throne she adamantly kneeled at the foot of?

“Princess,” she sighed, her hands trailing from shoulder to elbow. “Your brother has tasked me to protect you.” A lie, and yet she believed it so wholeheartedly. A loyalty as steady as a heartbeat.

“You cannot salve for every little thing that ails me.”

“There’s a sort of protection in comfort, is there not?” Such naive words, ones a child could have spoken, but they rang throughout your entire being.

She was diluted ink in the dark of the storm, but the whites of her eyes and teeth shone with the sheen of pearl. Your lips parted, drinking in a shaky inhale. You should have kept playing the delicate flower in distress, but you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous and curious, a hunger that gnawed at the very marrow of your bones. A hunger that you had no choice but to satiate.

“And how do you intend to comfort me, dear knight?”

A moment of something heady passed, and you could practically see the churning of her mind, the weight of precariousness at her throat like a glinting blade. You knew then that the same starvation engulfed her own being, your hands slithering down to her wrists and clutching them.

“I would do whatever you ask of me, My Lady–”

“No,” you cut her off, tracing a sliver of puckered flesh that outlined her bare wrist. A quaint shiver wracked her shoulders at the abrupt stone of your voice, unbidden. “No, Abigail. How do you wish to comfort me? Speak plainly.”

“I want…” Her voice was strained, the word leaden and fumbling on her tongue, her own will now foreign to her. Her hands tightened around your elbows. “What I want… what I desire, is not so easily spoken, princess.”

Even in the dark, her eyes were the bottomless wells of a carefully guarded vulnerability. You wanted to chip away at that wall she had between you and her, between anyone but her fiery devotion and her own self.

You cupped her cheeks with the soft, uncalloused palms of your hands, watched as her reluctance dissolved with the touch.

“Then show me.”

Perhaps all that was needed was an uttered confirmation that you felt the same infuriating emotions. You had torn through the neat little bow of restraint that kept her being together, and now it was uncontainable, this ever-swelling.

There was a moment of hesitation, shared breath mingling sweetly, before she pressed her lips to yours. She cradled your waist as if you were porcelain, but her kiss was a beast of want, all teeth and tongue. Your back melded with the carvings of the door as she nudged you back, wooden jasmine blossoms and orchids keeping you tethered to the moment. You kissed back with just as much viciousness, astonished by your own affections welling up like crimson from a finger pricked.

It was with the ebb and flow of ocean waves that she let you go just as promptly as she had kissed you, her face a hazy mass of surprise in the semi-dark, leaving only the remnant of her warmth against your skin, the phantom of soft lips and tongue.

Her fingers scraped her blonde locks away from her face, chest heaving.

“Princess,” she spoke through the ragged edge of her breath. There was a singed quality to her voice, raw and crisp. “Princess, it would be improper to continue.”

Disappointment, to your dismay, pooled in the pit of your stomach. You turned your head to the side and gave a feeble nod, swallowing at the thick knot lodged in your throat. Letting her warm your bed would be unwise, you reminded yourself now. It would serve no purpose to your goals, and a lovesick knight trailing you around was the last thing you needed. And yet...

“We cannot cross that line,” she whispered. You felt the gentle snaking of arms around yours as you were pulled close to her chest, your ear snug against it. “But I am still here.” Her heartbeat was hummingbird-rapid, a reflection of your own.

She led you back to the bed and watched intently as you laid down beneath the smooth blanket. You stared in return. How was a person sharpened for such luridness able to wield tenderness the way she did a weapon? It was more frightening, you silently mused, than any tale of her violence could offer. It did little to divert the ache that seeped to your very bones, the craving for it.

Lightning still ruptured the heavens, followed dismally by a cacophony of thunder.

“Abigail.” Your hand drifted into the air, toward her. She held it gently in both of hers.

“Are you still frightened?”

Your plan for the night had been uprooted, and you had no choice but to remain here in this room. You traced each feature of hers with your eyes, lingering on the worrisome crease of her brow. Perhaps… “Yes, a little.”

Perhaps, this once, sweet selfishness was justified. Perhaps you could let this sordid business of trickery and usurpation float from your mind. This once…

“Will you lay beside me?” You sat up, peeling the blanket aside. “It would help me a great deal.”

“My lady…”

“Innocently, of course,” you reassured. “To know someone is beside me, to share that warmth… it would ease my nerves greatly.”

A beat passed, then another. “I think… It's something I also need. For tonight.”

“For tonight,” you echoed, patting the empty space of the bed next you.

She clambered in beside you without another word, a slow exhale escaping her when her head softly hit the pillow. You could feel her breath fan over your face gently, followed by a soothing, steady hand on your arm.

“Will you hold me?” There was a waver in your cadence, something unbearably soft puckering to the surface. “Is that okay?”

You were encircled by her arms, so gently that you felt, something swirl inside of you, just to then sink.

Consciousness left her almost instantly at the feel of your body against hers. The comfort of someone to hold in the eternal stretch of night elleviated the quiet ache that thrummed and tugged at her own being.

You listened as she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep, until the sky stopped its tears and the only sound that could be heard was the rhythmic thump, thump, thump of her heart at your ear.

𖥸 𖥸 𖥸

The marble was icy beneath the soles of your feet, each footfall echoing softly through the desolate, cavernous halls. The lanterns flickered low, the walls cast in leaping, ravenous shadows.

Wait for me at the entrance to the orchard, you had told your spy, an inconspicuous place for business made in the night, but as you reached the intricately designed archway, you were met with the absence of the living. The sharp smell of damp earth and overripe fruit wafted through the open space, yet it did little to calm the eerie feeling in your blood.

Perhaps you were too late, or perhaps she had appeared conspicuous. A fist of disappointment twisted at your gut, but relief flooded your veins with it. There was silence, at least. Stagnance was a better ordeal than disruption. You turned away from the trees, feet almost silent without the usual finery adorning your ankles.

A whisper against the precious stone. Something scratching and picoting, until you felt the brush of it at your leg. Frozen, you peered at what had touched you. A piece of flimsy paper, the uncertain handwriting that you had come to know so well. Between the looping letters of secret after secret unfurled, vermillion stained the thin sheet. Vibrant. Fresh.

A man at the very first tree, the shimmer of the whites of his eyes furious and expansive. You knew this face, these pompous clothes, the cruel, all-knowing scowl on his lips. Your brother’s confidant and his closest advisor. If this man could stretch himself as thin as a carpet to soften your brother’s steps, he would have.

His movements were rigid, yet quick as he lunged in your direction, teeth bared and motivated by his sweltering rage alone. His cheek was streaked with the same shade of red.

“You treasonous whore!” He swiped his hands at you, but you scrambled away at the very last moment. “Traitor!”

“My Lord–” Your heart thrusted against your ribcage, your breath coming out in uneven, shattering breaths. There was no cajoling such a blind beast. His voice was much too loud, his body propelled by something untethered to reason.

You were going to be found out. He had the evidence and his screams were enough to alert any guards patrolling the slumbering palace. You had to do something, you had to–

He lunged forward again, forceful yet sloppy. Your body began to react on its own accord.

The blade was an ugly little thing, stolen from beneath Abigail’s pillow weeks ago and fastened in a makeshift sheath of torn silk and ribbon, held steadily enough by a bangle at your wrist. It was in your hand, slipping from the snugness of the material and clanging against the jewellery with the same delicate ring of anklet bells chiming in the midst of dance and song. A song of retribution, thrumming, awake and unabated, in your veins.

The moment was a blur, the contact of iron to skin one you could not even comprehend until a surprised, wet sound bubbled forth from the nobleman’s lips. He slumped forward against the blade, his eyes glassy. Lifeblood trickled down the hilt of the blade and down your fingers. The warmth of it made your stomach churn.

Before you could pull the blade out, he swayed to the side, toppling to the ground with a sickening thump. Crimson bled across the stark white of the floor, pooling beneath his now motionless body.

The bile of pure panic rose to your throat, face leached of warmth. What have I done? What have I done? What have I–

“Princess?” A voice of honeycomb, even when it wavered with such uncertainty.

No.

You stared ahead, the bulky outline of her blurring only to refocus as she got closer. There was a look that had never graced her face before, one of confusion mixed with something akin to horror. Had she known this man? Taken orders from him?

But she did not look down at the grim image at her feet, but rather at you. Your stained fingers, the way your face had grown ashen and fear-stricken.

Her fingers ghosted over your cheek, but stopped short of making contact. “What…” You could hear the thoughts that knotted in her mind. How could such a sweet thing – you – do this?

A shout sounded down the hall, and you flinched, eyes darting in the direction as a new wave of bone-rattling fear crashed down upon you. There was a clamour, the sound of swords against urgently moving legs.

Abigail pulled her hand away from you as if seared. Hardness seeped into the cracks where her moment of bare emotion shone. A moment ticked by, voices growing closer.

With a flash of movement, she yanked the blade out of the lifeless body beside her, a sickening squelch that did not seem to rattle her, and turned her back on you. Surely she had to be more selfish than this?

“Abigail–”

“Be silent and stay behind me.”

Your voice sank down into an urgent whisper. “Your recklessness is going to get you killed.”

Her head turned toward you then, her gaze meeting yours. Blue flame, a flicker of pure torment.

“You have already made me your accomplice.” They should have been sweet, simple words, but they held the acrid tang of rotting fruit, bitter and wilting despite their saccharine nature.

They were encircling you in an instant, guards wearing the colours of the sun and the moon. Their swords were raised, but they waited for something…

The guards parted, roiling ocean waves. You watched as your brother stepped his way to the front, head held high.

Without a single word, Abigail dropped to her knees, the blade clanging against the floor and skidding away from her to rest at his feet.

Your brother did not spare her a glance. His eyes pinned you in place, cold and measured. He did not ask about the commotion or point grieving eyes towards his closest advisor. No, he already decided on what truth in this he would spin and alter in order to squash you beneath his bejewelled hand.

As he stared you down, you gazed at the back of Abigail’s neck, peach-toned skin peaking beneath the cascade of blonde waves over her shoulders. You wanted to reach out, to touch her one last time if only to bid farewell.

Such a rotten heart you had. You felt it thump mournfully, greed winning out in the end.

Your lips remained tightly locked as she took the fall for your turpitude, an act of the foulest betrayal.

As you watched them drag her away, you may as well have been clapping the chains around her wrists yourself.

Who knew that even a blade of the soul could be double-edged?

#kinda rusty so don’t mind the inconsistency 😭#abby anderson #knight!abby #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #tw blood

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jessica-read · 1 year

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Good morning guys, just thought I'd try one of my old outfits on. I hope you like it, take care of each other, luv Jess 💕

#jessica #transgender #transisbeautiful #makeup selfie #trans woman #mother of the bride suits #ladies day outfit #gorgeous dress #Pretty bolero #sexy nylons #killer heels #sexy high heels

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fanaticsnail · 4 months

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Beautiful

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,400+

Synopsis: Big Mom has found her son, Charlotte Katakuri, a partner she deemed worthy enough for him to court for matrimony. While he is smitten immediately with you, he is determined to make a good impression on you by not revealing his face. Your curiosity gets the better of you.

Warnings: Katakuri x f!reader, talks of husband and wife, use of bride, massaging face, fluff, so fluffy.

Notes: wrote this half-dazed at 6:30am this morning because @gingernut1314 decided she needed the big man in her life and the brain-worm got me. Here he is, the big guy all for you, sweetheart. Art link

Tag List: @feral-artistry @i-am-vita @indydonuts @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

Being courted by the Minister of Flour was not something you had ever pictured to be highlighted on your impressive resume. When you first received an invitation from the Charlotte family to venture to Komugi island, this was not an outcome you predicted for yourself.

Charlotte Katakuri, the second son and third child of Big Mom, was told to find a bride. His orders were received, the date of his nuptials set, and his suit picked out for such an excitable occasion. The only thing that had not been set in stone was the partner joining him at his side after their soft march down the aisle.

Your family was titled, strong, and one of the only families Big Mom had deemed worthy enough to usher in a new generation of pirates to join in taking the Charlotte name. Katakuri had no choice but to obey his mother, apprehensively accepting the terms of an arranged marriage against his own desires to simply live to protect his siblings, nieces, and nephews. While this was out of his control, what he could control was how his intended bride depicted him.

He could continue to shield his face from you. His rationale was as such, “If they never view my face, they would never have reason to fear me.” And so he did as such, hiding his face beneath the fur shroud from the moment he met you, and every courtship session soon thereafter. As he laid his eyes on you for the first time, he was immediately smitten. Taken by your appearance alone, and your willingness to sign your name beside his on the registry to set your intentions to wed in stone, he could never be more proud to have a partner such as you.

As his trust in you began to build, he slowly allowed you into his heart, and shared his burdens with you as Minister of Flour. He confided in you, relishing in your company as he openly courted you under the watchful chaperone of his younger sister, Charlotte Brûlée.

One such occasion, he laid out a blanket for you and drew out a large wicker basket from behind his back. He presented you with an assortment of baked sweets and pastries with a soft blush dusting his cheeks beneath the fur shroud. While you accepted the treats with gratitude, you instead placed it beside you and knelt on the blanket, tapping your lap and asking him to lay on his back.

“Tell me about your day, intended. I want to know every detail,” you smiled mischievously up at him. He cautiously stole a look at Brûlée, who emphatically ushered him to do as he was told with flailing hands.

Lowering himself onto the mat beside you, he awkwardly shifted himself to attempt to do as you asked. Rolling your eyes, you reach your hands up to his shoulder and gently guide his larger form to lay his head in your lap. His entire head was the size of both of your thighs together, but you had no qualms or complaints about it.

“Come on, I don't bite,” you reassured him with a soft laugh, “Let me hear about your journeys abroad. Tell me anything that you want, you have my complete attention.” He was a giant, but so incredibly gentle and sweet to those he deemed as family.

Coaxing his head onto your lap, he immediately drew his hand up to his mask and secured it over his lips to keep his mouth and teeth hidden from your sight. You chose to ignore this, drawing your fingers up and settled him atop your thighs as he slowly, quietly spoke about his life to you.

While Charlotte Katakuri was immediately taken by you in the registry office with your family and his, you were horrified by the sight that was met with you. You had heard stories about some of the Charlotte's being of unusual size and stature, but you had no idea exactly how tall your intended was. His form was almost three times your size, his intimidating appearance did nothing to stifle your nerves.

Believing to have masked your concerns at the nuptuals well enough to be believable, your nerves all but melted away the moment his soft, soothing voice checked in with you afterwards. Charlotte Katakuri was a sweetheart, a 504cm tall sweetheart with such softness within his hardened exterior.

Reclining his head on your lap, you rubbed at his plum-colored hair as he spoke about adventures away from Komugi. His hand gestures out in a flurry in front of his chest, pointing to the sky as he speaks so eloquently to you. Although he does not yet trust you enough for you to reveal his face, your curiosity begins to gnaw at the seams.

You start to lower his inhibitions by massaging his scalp, scruff of his neck and forehead. His hair pricks your skin as your skillful touch chips away at his woes and worries. His voice quietens further as he closes his eyes as your hands firmly press against his forehead. You needed to see your soon to be husband’s face, you desperately craved to know what was going on beneath the furs.

As he leans into your touch, he seemingly forgets about the shroud over his mouth hiding his sharpened teeth from you. He is in bliss beneath your hands, and he slips away into a world carved by your palms and fingertips. Your hands dip deeper, lower into his cheeks, your digits feeling his muscles relax their tension beneath your fingers.

Smiling to yourself softly as he gasps at such sweetness befalling from you to him, he parts his lips gently. He arches his head further into your lap, the shroud finally lowering and revealing his sharp teeth and unnaturally widened mouth. His jaw falls slack as his brow becomes relaxed.

You crave to coo at his vulnerability, truly enjoying empathetically how much he allowed himself to relax into your soft touch. This hardened general, this pirate minister, this older brother to so many siblings in the Charlotte family, was as malleable as rice flour mochi beneath your skilled digits. You took in his appearance, almost relieved at feeling the twin slits up his lips as you looked down at him with nothing but pure adoration.

You were immediately in love with what you saw, your heart beating heavily against your ribcage as a warm flush rose to your cheeks. You loved him, all of him.

Brushing your hands over his cheeks, you silently and slowly commit his face to memory like reading a marble carving with a simple touch. He is gorgeous, and you remember to tell him so when he snaps out of his tranquility and looks at you with accusing eyes the moment he realized you slipped the shroud over his chin.

“What are you doing?” he growls quietly, “Why did you do that? I don't want you to fear me-...” A soft gasp flees from your lips as you take him completely in. His lips split up his cheeks in an unnatural slit through symmetrical scars, his sharp fangs extend up on his lower jaw and over his lips.

Although he feels slightly betrayed at the way you managed to easily reveal his face, his betrayal is eclipsed by shock and awe when he meets your eyes.

“I-I just…” you trail off, your body cowering away in response to his anger, but your eyes still depict the emotion you so desperately desired to show him, “...-I just wanted to know. I wanted to see.” Charlotte Brûlée watched the interaction with interest, her own shock evident on her face.

She witnessed the entire interaction with your hands on his face, almost calling out to warn her brother his face was going to be revealed, but quietly hoping you would fall in love with him further. She knew you loved him, knew you wanted to see him, and trusted you enough with her older brother that she knew you would love him more the moment his fangs and scars were brought into the light.

He was expecting fear, disgust, anguish and anger to be met in your curious gaze. But all you held in those calm and half-lidded orbs was pure trust, love, and pure adoration. His shock was adamant as he nervously floated his eyes between your gaze. His thumb and index finger circled around your much smaller hand, hovering it over his cheek as you felt your heart soar at the vulnerability.

“And now that you have?” his whisper came out more like a gasp, his voice breathy and craved to hear you say you weren’t afraid. He needed to know you did not fear his appearance, his wordless prayers spoken within his mind’s eye the longer your gaze soaked in his sight.

You placed your unoccupied hand on his cheek, leaning in closer to his face and your lips curling into a soft, innocent and intimate smile. Caressing his cheek, you cocked your head to the side and finally uttered a single word he truly did not ever think he would hear.

“Beautiful.”

#one piece #x reader #charlotte katakuri #katakuri #katakuri x reader #katakuri one piece #op katakuri #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #one piece romance #writing for a beautiful moot

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jamespotterismydaddy · 1 year

Text

Little Bride

daemon x niece!reader smut

A/N: based on a request here! also i don't understand high valyrian conjugation so kepa just means father in every time it's used

TW: smut!!, incest, DUBCON, daddy kink, size kink, breeding kink, spanking, exhibitionism because of under the table shenanigans

word count: 1,563 words

You haven’t seen Daemon since you were seven years old and you’ve missed him deeply. Everyone says that he hates Alicent Hightower’s children but he always said you had the true blood of the dragon running in your veins. You were always his favourite but it’s been over a decade since his latest exile and you most definitely aren’t a little girl anymore.

“Zaldrīzes riña.” (dragon girl) You hear from behind you as you make your way to your chambers. Only one person calls you that.

“Kepus?” You say as you turn around and squeal when you lay eyes on him. You run down the hallway and throw your arms around his shoulders before blushing when you realize how unladylike your actions are. You slowly remove yourself from him. “Sorry.” You say timidly. He laughs.

“Don’t be. I don’t remember the last time someone was so thrilled to see me.” His eyes take in the sight of you but you don’t notice the predatory nature of his gaze. “You’ve grown, little girl.”

“That’s what happens when you are away for so long.” You say petulantly. He chuckles and looks over you. His eyes fixate on the swell of your breasts. He seems like he may say something when he’s interrupted.

“Should you not be preparing for supper, daughter?” The voice of the Queen rings out as she shoots the filthiest glare at your uncle. Your mother hates Daemon.

“Of course, your Grace.” You say and curtsey before running off, shooting your uncle a passing smile.

“I'll see you at supper then, zaldrīzes riña.” Daemon calls out after you. He looks to your mother. “Hello, Alicent. You’re looking well.” He says with a wolfish grin and makes himself busy with greeting another noble before the Queen can retort.

~~~

When you arrive to the family dinner that night, Daemon has saved a spot next to him for you, much to your mothers dismay. You take it eagerly.

“Glad to have you home, brother.” The King says as he raises his cup and you all follow in suit, toasting to Daemon’s return.

The room falls into steady conversation, steady enough for people to not notice when

Daemon whispers things in your ear that make you blush.

“This is a very pretty dress, niece.” He says as he plays with the collar of the gown. His hand begins to trail down it. “Very expensive fabric.” The roaming hand decides on its destination being your upper thigh.

“T-Thank you.” You say with a light smile as he turns his attention elsewhere, talking to your father about things that you don’t understand.

After a few moments, the hand on your thigh begins to move. You sigh in relief, hoping he will take it off and relieve you of the warm feeling in your tummy but that isn’t what happens. Your uncle’s hand moves discreetly to the hem of your skirts, and to your dismay, he begins to lift them. You give him a pleading and confused look, not really sure what’s happening but he doesn’t even look at you as he seems to be fully focused on his conversation with your father.

You take a sip of wine, trying to distract yourself, but it only causes you to choke as you feel his fingers ghost over your smallclothes.

“Are you alright?” Daemon says in a faux-concerned tone as you cough. You only manage to nod in response before he goes back to ignoring you.

He slips his fingers to the side of your undergarments and pushes them to the side so he can feel how wet you are. You could swear you see a slight smile twinge at his lips. You try not to look at him, or anybody, as you feel his two fingers slip inside of you. You hope you don’t give anything away with your face as you reach down to clutch his hand, trying to pull it away, to make him stop, but it’s to no avail. Your attempts are almost pathetic with how little they do to faze him.

The whole scene of it is filthy, Daemon talking politics with his brother as his fingers pump in and out of his virgin niece’s soaked cunny right next to him, her father right across the table from the two of them. One look at the princesses face could have them both found out as she tries not to squirm in her seat.

You feel yourself edging closer to your peak but it never comes. You’re humiliated by the whole act of it but you feel needy for him when he pulls his hand away. You hold in a visible reaction even though it seems that Daemon wouldn’t know the difference as he acts like he never even touched you.

For the rest of dinner, you’re unfocused. Aemond tries to make conversation with you but you can’t do much more than nod and give short answers. You’re very much in disbelief that you hardly realize when supper has ended. Your brothers and sister leave quickly. Your mother left early with your father because of his sickness. You’re left alone with your dear uncle and some servants.

“Leave us.” Daemon says and the servants scurry out of the room.

Your uncle stalks over to you and you keep inching away until you hit the table. He towers over you. You still feel like a child next to him.

“Kepus.” You try to speak sternly. “What you did was wrong and you shall not do anything like it again.”

“If it was wrong then why did you like it so much?” He looks you in the eyes as he grabs your chin and tilts it up.

“It was terribly improper.”

“Hmm. I think you liked the attention. Daddy never gives you any, does he? And mommy is too focused on her problem child.” He says condescendingly.

The hand that doesn’t hold your chin goes to your waist. He traces up and down… the curve of your hips… of your breasts.

“I’m a princess. I get more than enough attention.” You say petulantly but your voice wavers.

“Then why haven’t you pushed me off?” He asks and you immediately try to push him away… pathetically. It’s little effort for him to turn you around and bend you over the table with your hands pinned behind you. “Dumb girl. Look at your trying to put up a fight. It’s not nice to deny kepa.” Kepa, he says, not kepus.

“Get off of me!” You try to squirm under his grasp.

“What happened to the girl a few hours ago who was so excited to see me?” He teases as he begins to use one hand to hike up your skirts.

“Kepa-... kepus, stop now!” You cringe when you call him the name he just referred to himself as.

“Aww so you like calling me that. You want daddy to take care of you.” He gets your skirts to your waist and you feel the cold air when he tugs your smallclothes.

“No, kepusss.” You whine at him and squeal when his hand slaps your ass.

“That’s not what you’re meant to call me, baby. And you need to be quiet, don’t want the guards outside to hear when i’m pounding the little princesses cunny, do we?”

“But… kepa i-i’m meant to save myself for my husband.” You say when you feel something long and hard rubbing between your thighs. His hand snakes around and he shoves two fingers in your mouth.

“Good, then i’ll get to bloody my cock with your maidenhead.” He says simply before shoving himself inside, the fingers in your mouth barely muting your scream. “That’s it, just take it and suck on kepa’s fingers like a little baby.” He says as he keeps bullying his cock inside of you. “Gods, you’re so fucking tight.” He lays another smack on your ass. “I’m gonna put a baby in you, make you mine.”

“Mmm.” You moan around his fingers, starting to realize that you enjoy the treatment once the pain has somewhat faded. He fucks into you as hard as he can, making you see stars.

“I’ll make you my wife and i’ll eat this little cunny every night, have you screaming and begging for me as you cry.” His hands grip your hips roughly and you can feel the formation of bruises coming on. He lets go only for a second so he can spank your ass a few more times because he just loves how you whimper.

You feel him finally start to slow and the deep, lasting thrusts are what sends you over the edge. You have never came so hard as you squeeze around him and feel yourself tense up. He fucks you through your high before spilling his seed deep inside you.

“Fuck.” He says as he takes his fingers out of your mouth.

You still feel molded to the shape of his cock even once he’s pulled himself out.

He wipes your drool away in an almost loving way and then helps you turn around so you can sit on the table. He situates himself between your thighs and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You did so well, zaldrīzes riña.” He presses a few more kisses to your face and you blush at the tender action. “You’ll make a perfect bride.”

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

#daemon smut #daemon #daemon targaryen #daddy daemon #daemon targaryen smut #hotd #hotd smut #daemon x reader #daemon x you

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cartierre · 28 days

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CHIHIRO | lh44

synopsis: and if all is too late, is there still a way to salvage what we once called love?

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader (formerly), theo james x fem!reader (mentioned) warnings: angst, heartbreak, (some) vulgar language, lots of dialogue, no use of y/n word count: 2.1k

author's note: yes this is inspired by billie eilish's song 'chihiro' and also a bit by nicole's and lewis' relationship/break up! tried to be experimental, please give me your honest opinion about this i beg you. this is also not proof read since i hate reading my own stuff!

You’re fine.

Everything’s fine.

You’re so close.

No one can take this away from you now.

Taking a deep breath, the only thing you could concentrate on were your shaky hands in front of you, the many voices behind you overlapping and blurring into each other. You couldn’t distinguish your mother’s voice from your sister’s, or your bridesmaid’s from your friend’s. Your dad was out there somewhere, getting everyone to take their destined place to take one worry off your mind.

The dress you picked out months ago suddenly starts to suffocate you, the white blinding your eyes in an uncomfortable manner. You couldn’t decipher what happened. A minute ago you felt like the most beautiful woman on earth and the next you felt like ripping off your own skin.

You have cold feet.

No, no I don’t.

“I think I need some fresh air.”

The voices behind you stopped at once. There was a split second of awkward silence before you could hear some feet shuffling over to you. Your mother’s concerned face appeared in your view. You could tell she tried to hide her worry.

“Are you sure my darling?” She asked. You just nodded without looking into her eyes.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Don’t worry.”

Don’t worry, your daughter is just having a panic attack.

“Should Savannah accompany you?” She looked at your sister, waving her over to help you up. You shook your head no.

“I just need a moment to calm down from all the excitement.” You lied to their faces, sending them your most believable smile you had in store. You were a great liar, the perks of being an actress.

Throwing over a soft robe to at least conceal some of the wedding dress, you hurried out of the suffocating room. You smiled and nodded at some of the people you passed by, trying to hold up your act of a happy bride. This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life after all.

Getting out of the small house next to the main one, you fled the eyes of the guests and escaped into the big, blossoming garden, finding your way into the massive maze that adorned the centrepiece. The old mansion behind you disappears from your sight and with each step away from the buzzing preparations of the wedding, your breath starts to normalise again.

Bending over and holding yourself up by your knees, you caught your breath. The heavy feeling started to disperse, your mind clearing up. Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on your surroundings.

The mild wind breezed through your hair and caressed your face, you could hear the leaves from the many hedgerows making up the maze and the water splashing softly against the fountain. Birds chirped in the distance and you could faintly make out some people’s voices up at the mansion.

And some footsteps approaching you.

“The centrepiece of the hedge maze might not be the most convenient hiding spot.”

You tensed, your eyes snapping open and you straighten your back. He was behind you, so he couldn’t see the shock written clearly all over your face.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” You still hadn’t turned around.

“It would be rude to turn down a wedding invitation without a good reason.” He answered, and you could hear his steps getting louder and louder behind you.

He slowly came into view. You had yet to turn your head into his direction, but from the side you could see him sitting down on one of the stone benches next to you.

Finally, you turned your whole body to him. He wore a black suit, classic yet he made it seem so chic. His hair was braided back, his beard trimmed neatly and you could see some of his tattoos peeking out from underneath. Gold jewellery adorned his ears, his neck and hands.

He looked absolutely ethereal.

“And I figured if you didn’t want me to be here, you wouldn’t have invited me.”

You felt your body burn out of embarrassment. You didn’t answer him, you just kept staring at him with your most neutral face you could muster.

“Theo was the one who suggested it.”

He chuckled, and part of you wanted to melt right there.

“He’s always been a gentleman.”

Silence. Birds chirping, leaves blowing, water splashing, the occasional yell from someone up the mansion.

“I see you’ve got the venue you always wanted.” He looked around. “The waiting list must’ve been long.”

“They made an exception for us.” You kept your answers to a minimum.

“Right.” He nodded and kept admiring your surroundings. “The perks of being rich and famous.”

His eyes found yours again, you felt your heart stop for a second before returning to a rather fast speed. You hoped you kept your cool at least from outside.

“You look beautiful.” His eyes soften, the smile on his lips genuine.

“Thank you.” You gave him a nod.

“Theo is a lucky man.”

You could’ve been that lucky man.

“So they say.”

He chuckled again. “You used to be more talkative.”

“Maybe I just don’t want to hold a conversation with you.” He laughed at your words, shaking his head.

“Say the words and I leave.”

You kept silent. He smiled.

“You have cold feet.” You felt like an arrow just entered right in the middle of your guts. “That’s why you’re out here and not up there.”

He analysed your body language.

Fuck, he’s always been good at reading you like an open book.

“You’re scared.” He finalised his conclusion. “I’m just figuring out why… You always wanted this. Big engagement, great wedding, grand marriage…” He placed his chin on his hands, his arms resting on his upper legs. “What are you scared of?”

You bit your lip, your arms felt heavy on your sides, your fingers started to fiddle with the material of the robe. You felt so naked in front of him, so insecure and exposed. Your breath starts to pick up again.

“What are you running from, my love?”

He felt your body language change up in pace, your neutral stance completely flipping over. He stood up, his face painted in worry as he approached you. “Hey, I didn’t mean-”

“Fuck you, Lewis!” You took a step away and he stilled instantly. “Don’t fucking call me your love!”

You breathed heavily, as if you were close to exploding from all the emotions flowing inside you. Maybe you were.

You’re fine.

Everything’s fine.

You’re so close.

No one can take this away from you now.

You calmed yourself again.

The birds are chirping.

The leaves are blowing.

The water is splashing.

The wedding is happening.

“I’m sorry.” You apologised. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Lewis looked at you, you avoided his gaze. You could sense him sitting down again.

“I think you swearing at me is the closest I’ve seen from the you I know.”

“Well, you don’t know me anymore.” You snapped. “You haven’t in years.”

He sighed. “Yeah, I guess I haven’t.”

You sighed too, your hands dropping to your sides again. You know you should just leave and return to your girls. They were probably already looking for you.

Yet you took one step after the other and sat down next to him.

“I am scared.” You confessed. You didn’t know why you were telling him this. Maybe because you felt like he was the only person you could talk to. “It was supposed to be you.”

Your mother would kill you for having such thoughts and your friends wouldn’t understand. Your sister would roll her eyes at you and god forbid your future mother-in-law knows about any of the doubts you had about marrying her son.

“I know.” His words made you smile sadly.

You looked at him and he looked at you. You don’t think anyone has ever looked at you the way he did. No one, not even Theo.

“You were always meant to be a bride.” He twirled a strand of hair of yours between his fingers. “I just wasn’t meant to be a groom.”

You looked away and he let go of your hair, his hand lingering for a second in the air before dropping onto his lap.

“I know.” Now he was the one smiling sadly.

You fiddled with the bow holding together your robe. Your thoughts were racing, but none made sense.

“You shouldn’t be scared.” He took your hand in his, his fingers playing with your engagement ring. “You wouldn’t be wearing this if it was wrong to marry him.”

“Sometimes I catch myself thinking what ring I’d be wearing if you had been ready at the time.” You breathed out, leaning back against the bench. “And then I feel silly thinking that way about a man who has broken me in a way I thought I was never going to recover from it.” You snatched away your hand from his grip.

You heard him sigh next to you. He held his face in his hands and you could tell he was ashamed of his past actions. “I was an asshole.”

You chuckled at his words bitterly. “Yeah, you were.”

There was some understanding silence between you. This time it didn’t feel uncomfortable, no, more reassuring. He knew, you knew. There was no need to focus on your surroundings.

“I don’t think I want you at my wedding.” You breathed shakingly, unsure how he’d react to your words. You looked at him on your side. He was already staring at you. His eyes were sad, yet he understood you. He always did.

“Can you do me a favour?” He asked. “Can you show me your dress?”

Without any further words, you stood up and unveiled yourself from your robe. He sucked in a breath.

It wasn’t particularly extravagant. The simple cut hugging you perfectly as if it was custom made for you. Maybe because it was. The designer of your choice had outdone themselves, keeping it the exact same way you had envisioned it.

Elegant, modern, ethereal.

It took Lewis a minute to compose himself. He never thought he’d see you in a wedding dress. Part of him regrets that he asked you to show yourself to him.

“You’re an angel.” You don’t look like an angel, you are an angel. You blushed.

You took your robe again, covering yourself up as much as you could. “Thank you.”

For a second you stood there and took a deep look at him. The way he sat there, it had changed. Before, he looked so confident, so sure of himself. After he saw you in your dress, you weren’t sure what to make of him.

He looked small.

“I should go.” You couldn’t bear it any longer. You’ve already talked too much to him.

Why were you still here?

You turned around without waiting for his response. Taking the ends of your dress in your hand, you made sure to not get any dirt on it as you stepped away from the man you once loved. Once.

“I think-”

You staggered, halting in your movements. You were a few feet away from him, already at the entrance of the maze to make your way out of it. Turning around, you saw him as he stood up.

“I think maybe I would’ve been ready.” He nodded unsure. “At one point.”

You stared at him, your lips pressed against each other.

“I think I was overwhelmed by it all. My career, my team, you… That’s why I ran away.”

You kept staring at him without uttering a word, your dress still held up slightly. He continued.

“I think I see that vision of yours now.” He took a shaken breath. “It’s really beautiful.”

You felt your stomach twist and your hands grabbing the material of your dress more aggressively. Why did he tell you all this now? Was he trying to sabotage you? He’s done it once, you needed to make sure he wouldn’t do it again. Not this time, never again.

You cleared your throat. “I meant it, don’t come to my wedding.”

“Wait, I-”

“Lewis,” You interrupted him. “My love isn’t yours anymore. You’re the one who needs to let go now.”

And with that you turned your back to him, your face looking up at the mansion that stood upon you. Your future lay there. He couldn’t stop you anymore.

You’re fine.

Everything’s fine.

You’re so close.

No one can take this away from you now.

You’ve never looked back again.

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