#Sunrise Maids

[nataliasquote]

Midas Touch | n romanoff

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: no amount of money will ever save a broken marriage or a broken woman. But maybe the right person can turn everything she touches into gold and this time won’t be cursed to break everything she cares about.

Warnings: affair, cheating wife, forbidden love, small mention of physical abuse (a slap)

Pairings: maid!Natasha x wife!reader

wc: 7.1k 😬

Note: another AU? Why are we even surprised. But this idea fully goes to @katyaromanoffpetrova who does just fuel my need to write every AU possible. If you thought cowgirl Nat was hot… oh just you wait. Also the end got angsty, but you should learn to expect that with me now..

-⧗-

Being up before the sun wasn’t anything Natasha wasn’t used to. Even before she got this job, mornings were her favourite. The way the world looked when it was kissed by the watery sun that rose above the rooftops hours before anyone was awake to see it was one of life’s hidden gems.

And one of the many perks of being a live-in maid to one of the richest men in the America was the views from every window in the staggering mansion. The west side of the house overlooked the bustling city below, which was beautiful at night. But Natasha’s favourite was the east wing that revealed rolling countryside and the perfect place to watch the sunrise over the distant hills.

Her maid duties never started this early, but she didn’t mind being awake. It gave her a sense of peace before the mania of the day began. She wasn’t the only maid in the Barnes residence, but her task was slightly different than everyone else’s. She was Y/n Barnes’ maid and that in itself came with a whole host of other challenges.

Seven am was when her ‘day’ started, for the lady of the house was not an early riser. She usually wouldn’t be seen out of bed until at least nine, but on the days James left for work early, she would always see him off from the front door. And wherever Y/n was, Natasha was never far behind, lurking in the background with her hands clasped in front.

Y/n’s laugh was the first thing Natasha heard of her boss, before she was even seen. Her voice oozed wealth and that laugh practically dripped honey and diamonds as it echoed through the high ceilings of the stairwell. With her arm draped over her husband’s bicep, Y/n lingered on the last step, teasingly trying to tower over James’ muscular frame as he shrugged his suit jacket on.

He muttered something in her ear and Natasha watched as Y/n’s neutral expression suddenly switched to a cunning smile and her fingers fumbled with the small tie holding her feathered robe closed. The front fell open, revealing her nightwear beneath it and it was not hard to see the way James’ eyes fell to his wife’s cleavage for a couple of seconds.

These small moments cemented why they were the nation’s favourite couple, and also why Vogue was so insistent on featuring them on the cover. They were still so lovesick yet utterly perfect in a way that didn’t happen by chance. This level of perfection was almost nauseating.

Y/n stepped down off the bottom stair and looked up at James through her lashes, playing the innocent game despite being anything but.

“Goodbye, my love. Try not to murder anyone today,” she husked in her husband’s ear, draping her arms around his neck with a lazy smile. James’ hand fell to the small of her back and he pulled her into him, kissing her lips hastily.

“No promises. Be good.” Y/n was on her tip toes but hardly felt the coolness of the stone floor on her bare feet. She leaned her face into Bucky’s palm that had risen up to cup her cheek. Soft fingers straightened out the lapels of his pristine suit jacket almost habitually.

“No promises,” she mimicked with a smirk, her eyes sparkling playful up at her husband who was transfixed by her sultry gaze. She was truly a siren, luring him in with a simple glance and a smile. Her power didn’t come from her social status; it came from her. The kind that couldn’t be earned or bought, no matter how much money you had.

With another lingering kiss, James pulled away and reached for the drawer of car keys and selected from the collection of sports cars most could only fantasise about. His dark grey McLaren Senna was today’s pick and he tossed the key in his palm like it wasn’t part of a car costing close to a million dollars. His wealth really was astonishing.

Y/n watched him disappear out of the heavy iron front doors and pulled her robe tighter around her body, concealing the simple navy blue silk slip dress that hung delicately from her shoulders. Her robe matched in colour, of course, and the feathers adorning the trim and cuffs swayed as she wandered into the vast kitchen.

She was the typical rich housewife, but it didn’t look tacky on her. She suited this life. Her wrists, neck and fingers might as well have been crafted to be decked out in priceless jewels, her body to wear only the finest garments. Even just the way she moved oozed grace and elegance subconsciously. A sight for sore eyes.

“Natasha,” she called, knowing the redhead was only a few steps behind her. “I’d like my breakfast on the balcony today please.”

“Yes ma’am,” Natasha replied with a small nod of her head.

“Oh, and don’t bother bringing any of that apricot jam you brought yesterday. I only want strawberry, darling. Only strawberry.” She swept back out of the room in a flash of blue and Natasha scurried down to the kitchen to inform the chef.

Now, if it was anyone else, that pet name probably would have sent them reeling. But Y/n was extremely fond of using those names, so it was basically second nature to Natasha.

The breakfast tray was laden with food and beverages as Natasha brought it out onto the balcony. Y/n was relaxing in a chair, still in her nightwear and robe as she scowled over the newspaper in her hand.

“You know, I do find these world affairs awfully boring.” Y/n didn’t bother looking up from her newspaper as Natasha appeared with the tray. She frowned at the column she was reading before folding it away on the table. “I don’t suppose you read that kind of thing anyway.”

Natasha carefully set the coffee pot down on the table. “I try to keep up with what’s going on in the world. But not as often as I’d like.”

“Do you read the paper?”

“No, Ma’am.”

Y/n hummed. “You can have this one if you want. I don’t care for it and James only complains about the headlines. You’d make much better use of it, honey.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. I really appreciate it.”

“Natasha stop,” Y/n held her hand up, making Natasha freeze mid pour. “I’ve told you to call me Y/n. All this ‘ma’am is making me feel old!” Y/n sighed dramatically, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. “I’m not even thirty yet, don’t make me age faster.”

“I’m sorry, Ma-,” she faltered but caught herself quickly, “Y/n, it’s a force of habit.” It wasn’t so much of a habit than it just felt weird to say. This first name basis insinuated they were friends, not two people on drastically different pay grades.

“Well, luckily for you, habits were made to be broken.” There was a heavy intonation in her words, laced with hidden meaning but Natasha just busied herself with setting up the breakfast platter. Various fruits and pastries were laid out, despite Y/n always just picking at a few berries and a croissant. Natasha hung back near the french doors, admiring the scenery so she didn’t watch her boss as she ate.

Y/n slid her sunglasses back onto her nose and stood up to lean over the balcony, the gentle breeze blowing her open robe softly. “Did that package arrive yet? The one from the lingerie company?”

“Yes, it’s in your dressing room.”

“Perfect,” Y/n hummed, her eyes sparkling behind tinted lenses. “I’m going to go try it all on, I think. When you’ve taken the tray, join me, will you?”

Natasha faltered, trying not to look at the outline of her boss’s figure through the thin material of her robe. But with the sun shining through it, it was proving difficult to keep her eyes off the curve of her hips.

“Me?”

“Yes you, Natasha,” Y/n confirmed, smiling to herself. “Who else would I be talking to?”

“My apologises ma’am, I’ll take this right away.”

Y/n didn’t bother correcting Natasha that time, too busy gazing at the rolling landscape beneath her. She found comfort in nature, the way the breeze brushed over her skin and the sun kissed her cheeks making her melt slightly. It differed vastly from the heavy touch of James’ hands, ones she played through a heavy facade to enjoy.

Y/n’s dressing room was that of dreams, just like the rest of her house. But she barely noticed it anymore. Her gaze settled on a white box on the central dresser, smiling to herself. She enjoyed the luxuries of life, and that included lingerie too. She told everyone it was for James, but really it was for her.

She just wanted to feel good for herself.

But those damn feathered sleeves kept getting in the way, so she shrugged her robe off and let it pool on the floor around her feet. She barely noticed the cooler air on her exposed limbs, too busy pulling off the lid and moving the tissue paper aside to reveal the soft coloured lace and mesh, all pastel colours for spring.

Natasha rushed back upstairs as gracefully as she could, passing through the master bedroom to the dressing room at the end. The door was ajar so she knocked three times, as usual, before pushing it open. Her breathing faltered involuntarily.

Was it normal to have that kind of reaction after seeing her boss in nothing but a mini slip dress? There was so much skin and Natasha took a second to gather her thoughts before she announced her presence, keeping her eyes firmly away from the woman in front of her.

“Natasha I want your opinions on these, come here.” The redhead obeyed and joined her side, eyes widening at the items before her. “What do you think?”

This kind of underwear was probably worth Natasha’s entire salary and she was apprehensive to touch it. Her hands stayed by her sides but she tried look objectively, even if she could barely tell the difference between the sets.

“I like that one the best,” she murmured, pointing slightly to a soft pastel blue set. Y/n smiled and plucked it from the box, holding it in front of her.

“Me too, you’ve got good taste.” Y/n slipped one strap of her nightdress from her shoulder and Natasha immediately turned around, almost squeaking at the lack of warning. “You didn’t have to do that, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Except it was. Because this wasn’t just any woman’s body, it was her mistress’s and there was no way she would ever be able to erase the images burned in her mind.

“I’ll just,” she started, trying to fill the silence by picking up the discarded robe and hanging it on a hook to her right. She caught Y/n fiddling with the bra clasp on her back, the hooks not quite fitting together.

“I hate new clasps,” Y/n exclaimed through gritted teeth, the hooks slipping once again. “Natasha, would you-?”

‘Don’t look don’t look don’t look’ was all that ran through Natasha’s mind as she carefully fastened the bra. She ignored the way her fingertips brushed Y/n’s skin, this wasn’t the first time. She was her maid, for gods sake. But Y/n was usually adamant that she could get dressed by herself, so Natasha rarely found herself around her mistress in just her underwear.

With a muttered thank you, Y/n wandered over to the mirror, adjusting the way her boobs sat in the cups before admiring the set. It was perfect for spring, the baby blue mesh and complimenting white and yellow flowers sitting flush against her tanned skin. The way the material hugged her body rivalled that of a custom made piece and Y/n hummed, content with what she saw in the mirror.

“It looks- beautiful,” Natasha faltered, keeping her composure as best she could. “James will love it.”

Y/n chuckled in the mirror, her hair shaking across her back as she laughed. “You really believe I care what he thinks?”

Natasha’s brows creased. Was that not why Y/n had those underwear sets in the first place? The redhead was empathetic but she didn’t have a significant other, there was no time for that. So her judgement was skewed, and it showed.

“I thought-“

“That’s cute.”

Natasha stuttered. “I’m sorry?”

“You,” Y/n locked eyes with her in the mirror. “You’re cute. James doesn’t care about this kind of stuff, it’s all for me, darling.” She adjusted the strap of her bra and didn’t miss the way Natasha’s eyes followed her fingers. “And now you, I suppose?”

“No, I wasn’t-“

Y/n swivelled round, hands on her hips. “I’m teasing you, darling, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. Frown lines don’t look good on you.” She reached up and softly brushed her thumb between Natasha’s eyebrows, smoothing out the creases that had formed there. The redhead visibly freezed under her touch, the feeling lingering long after her fingers were removed.

“You’re a beautiful girl, Natasha. Who’s the lucky man in your life? Or lady?” Y/n’s eyes shifted, forgetting that she was still in her lingerie set. Natasha breathed out a laugh and darted her gaze to the floor, offering Y/n her robe again.

“I don’t have anyone,” she admitted, missing the look that crossed Y/n’s face. “I spend all my time here, I don’t need anyone.”

“Then I’m honoured to be the lucky lady. And lucky I am.” There was something so alluring about Natasha that Y/n had been hooked on since she laid eyes on her new maid a few months ago. Reserved at first, Natasha was exactly what Y/n needed after years of overbearing and intrusive maids. Natasha was a similar age and felt more like a friend than a maid.

With a confident air about her, Y/n tried on the rest of the lingerie, placing the ones she disliked back in the box with a sigh. Sticking with the blue theme, she slipped on a blue and white sundress, clasped a tennis bracelet around her wrist, slotted her sunglasses into her freshly combed hair and waltzed back onto the balcony. Natasha stayed behind, fumbling with the ribbon around the box before she handed it to the doorman who would organise the return.

The days when James was at work were usually slow and Natasha had some time for herself for a couple of hours whilst Y/n was occupied. Natasha took herself into the city in the late afternoon and ended up in the one store she had never set foot in before.

The lingerie store.

It was a privately owned boutique, of course it was, this neighbourhood didn’t do chain branches, and she quickly walked past the more provocative sets towards the tables at the back. A friendly store worker greeted her but Natasha just kept her head down, politely shaking it when asked if she wanted help.

She was out of her comfort zone, and painfully so, picking up a risky looking set before setting it down a little too quickly. A simple red lace bra caught her eye and she picked it up, only to glance at the price tag and lay it down gently. How could something like that cost so much? Natasha had seen heavier price tags than that of course, she spent her days around Y/n Barnes for god’s sake. But when shopping for herself, everything just seemed too expensive and far too lavish for a plain girl like her.

Natasha was anything but plain, yet she would never see it.

As she looked around the rest of the shop, her mind kept falling back to the red set. It was burned into her mind no matter how many other pieces she saw, and somehow Natasha found herself back at that table again, fingers fumbling over the delicate lace design.

She picked it up, a soft blushing rising to her cheeks at the thought of wearing something so… out there. But the phone in her pocket buzzed and she quickly grabbed it.

Mrs Barnes:

James has set up a date night. I need your help please :)

The red lace set was long forgotten, her mind shifting into work mode in an instant.

Just leaving now. I’ll be there.

When she returned, Natasha headed straight upstairs to find Y/n just leaving the bathroom. Her hair was still dripping and her skin damp, shining in the warm light of her dressing room.

Natasha got to work, drying and styling her hair almost on instinct, having done it so many times. Y/n thoroughly relaxed, adoring the way Natasha felt as she worked through her hair. She softly tugged her roots, but not enough to hurt. Just so it felt like a massage and her eyelids threatened to get heavy.

Date night outfits ranged from lavish to simple, and tonight was a simple night. A little black dress with a deceitful price tag was selected from the closet, a fan favourite of Y/n. She wriggled into the tight material, loving the way it hugged every part of her body as she pulled it up over her chest and slipped the thin straps over her shoulders.

“Where did you go today?” Y/n asked as Natasha zipped up the back of her dress, holding the fabric tight.

“Mostly just window shopping.”

At the mention of shopping, Y/n’s ears pricked up. She wasn’t just making conversation- she was invested. “Did you get anything nice?”

“Not really. Saw a couple of things but-“

“You know you can always take my card if you see something you like,” Y/n insisted, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress to straighten it out. “What store did you visit?”

“It wasn’t anything special.” Y/n shot her an unimpressed look over her shoulder. “I went to the lingerie boutique-“

“No you did not,” Y/n exclaimed, her jaw dropping in excitement as she turned around, clothes long forgotten. “And you didn’t get anything? Oh darling no, we are taking you back there tomorrow and getting you sorted out.”

Natasha moved over to the heels cupboard and selected a classic pair of black patent stilettos. She placed them in front of Y/n for her to slide her feet into, holding onto her hand for support.

“You’ve got that photoshoot tomorrow, so no, we won’t have time.”

Y/n paused, her dangling earring paused in mid air. “And you think they won’t reschedule if I ask them to?” Her brow raised in a ‘try me’ fashion.

“Y/n,” Natasha began to protest. “You don’t need to do that. It’s not like I need anything fancy like you anyway, it’s useless…” she trailed off, a pang in her chest triggering a wave of doubt to shudder down her body. “Vanity Faire won’t be too impressed if you cancel on them again.”

“If they want me, they’re going to have to work around it,” Y/n countered, silencing Natasha as she stalked over, slightly taller than the redhead thanks to her heels. “You are beautiful and you deserve to treat yourself like that. Everyone does, even James and he’s an asshole sometimes. So take this,” she reached into her bra and pulled out her black card, smirking at how Natasha’s brows shot up. “Take this and spoil yourself. I mean it, okay?”

“Thank you ma’am, I’m-“ Y/n almost plucked the card back out of her hand. “Y/n, thank you. You’re too kind to me.”

“Oh stop it, my ego is big enough already.”

The dressing room door flew open to reveal James, narrowed eyes as he stared at the proximity between the two women. Natasha took a couple of steps back but Y/n stayed put, clasping a bracelet around her wrist nonchalantly.

“Y/n, get out here,” he demanded, never one to speak any clearer than he had to. His wife rolled her eyes at Natasha but obeyed, sending her one final look over her shoulder before the door swung shut.

Now they were alone, James grabbed her wrist and shoved her against the wall, towering over her in the only way he knew how to display his power. The power he held over his wife, power that meant he could crush with a single fist if he wanted to.

“James,” Y/n grunted, wincing as his fingers dug into the tender flesh around her wrist. “What is wrong with you?”

“Flirting with the maids now, huh?” He growled, thick brows casting a shadow across his eyes menacingly. “I fire one, you move onto the next, is that how it is?”

“And what if I was?” Y/n baited, not flinching as his body trapped her between the wall and his torso. “Are you threatened? By that cute little thing in there?” She nodded her head in the direction of the dressing room where Natasha was before James gripped her jaw and pulled her face back to his.

“Don’t you dare.” But she did dare. She wasn’t sadistic, but the smile that curled the edge of her lips was downright crazy. But she knew how James was; they fought fire with fire, too stubborn to ever back down.

“Careful, James. Marks, remember?” His grip softened lightly. “Wouldn’t want the paps to spin a story now, would we?”

She saw how he wanted to retaliate, but also knew that she was right. He leaned closer before pulling away, huffing through his nose. “You’re so fucking lucky I love you,” he hissed before he let go of her jaw and allowed her to walk away. His job didn’t help his violent side but James had vowed since day one that he would never harm his wife. Y/n knew it too, and she pushed him to the very edge. Just daring him to.

“Weird way of showing it, but ok,” Y/n mumbled under her breath as she pushed the door closed and took a breath. Natasha averted her eyes, suddenly so busy with a hanger that had been placed backwards. Did she put it there on purpose? That’s not for anyone to know.

She’d seen the strained moments between the husband and wife but often kept her head down, not wanting to fall under James’ wrath. If she was invisible, it was better, but that was easier said than done with Natasha.

Y/n finished clasping her last few pieces of jewellery before accepting her fur shroud from Natasha. The redhead didn’t let on that she had heard every word said next door, but Y/n knew by the way she avoided eye contact that she had.

“You can have the night to yourself, darling,” Y/n winked, checking over her outfit in the mirror beside Natasha. “And you better buy yourself that set.” She gestured to the card in her maid’s pocket, insisting she used it. “I want proof that you did.”

“Thank you, really.”

Y/n blew an air kiss and disappeared to meet James, leaving Natasha once again alone. She felt the weight of the card in her pocket, seeming to grow heavier the more she thought about it. Y/n meant well, but could she really buy something like that with her mistress’ money?

Whilst Natasha debated with herself, Y/n had put on her ‘public’ face. The one that showed she was so madly in love with her husband, clinging onto his bicep as they moved from the car to the restaurant lobby. Paparazzi followed their every move, of course, and James’ bodyguard ushered the couple into the building as fast as he could.

Most celebrities hated the paps with a passion, but James loved them. He loved how much he manipulated them, and they snapped up pictures of the married couple like there was a drought. There was no doubt those pictures would be spattered across gossip sites by tomorrow morning, but that was only more free publicity for him. James Barnes never lost.

However, despite the perfect image they had carefully constructed, more often than not, date nights with James ended alone. He would excuse himself for a phone call just as the food arrived and Y/n could always see him in a private area of the balcony, phone pressed to his ear whilst his other hand pinched the bridge of his nose. Y/n picked at her food in silence, washing every mouthful down with a sip of wine. She ignored the stares and whispers and just played her role to perfection, often sending worried glances out to James.

Tonight she had struck up a harmless conversation with one of the waiters, a young man with a far too eager smile. But she tolerated him for company, politely laughing as he tried to crack an admittedly horrible joke. He was surprisingly good company for the thirty minutes her husband had disappeared for. Although it didn’t help with how sad her situation looked. Y/n was nothing if not flirty, it was in her nature. The way she crossed her legs and looked up through her lashes with a sultry stare had every man, and woman, hooked.

Her siren tendencies didn’t end with her husband, and the waiter hovering by her table was drinking up the attention. It was a big deal for him, one of the hottest women giving up her time to talk to him. He was far too young for her, but Y/n humoured his attempts at flirting, twisting her shoulders so he had a good view from where he was standing. There was a fine line between hot and just plain sleazy, but Y/n would never cross it. She was too good at toying with people.

After a while, James came storming back in, his eyes darkening not only from the outcome of his phone call but also after seeing his wife laughing over another man. His judgement was clouded by anger and he grabbed his jacket, not even bothering to take a bite of his now-cold food. Y/n jumped at his sudden movements but smiled sweetly, thanking the waiter who had stiffened.

“Let’s go,” James growled, throwing down a wad of cash as a tip before storming towards the elevator. Y/n took a moment to gather her things before scurrying after him, her red bottomed shoes clicking loudly against the pristine floor.

“Is everything ok?” She dared to ask once the doors had closed. James looked up briefly, eyed the security camera and clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck shifting too.

“I work with imbeciles,” he grunted, his hand undoing the top button of his shirt in one fluid motion. “How was the food?”

“It was good,” Y/n stated, slightly wishing she could have finished her glass of wine.

“Good? I pay all this money and that’s the best you can do?” Bad phone calls always sent him into this mood, but Y/n had been with him long enough to know how to tame the tiger.

She stepped in front of him and ran her hands up the front of his sculpted chest, brushing over the muscle and up towards his shoulders. “It would have been better if you were there,” she spoke lowly, her hand sliding up to brush the stubble on his jaw.

James slid his hands around her waist possessively, pulling her flush against him. Anyone could walk in, the elevator wasn’t private, but they wouldn’t dare say anything to James Barnes. No one who confronted him ever walked away unharmed.

“Yeah? Even though you had your new little boy toy?” Oh he was jealous and Y/n had to tense every muscle in her body so she didn’t laugh. “I saw you.”

“You really think he had anything on you?” She asked sweetly, playing him just the way she knew. “I was just bored, baby, I missed you.”

“Damn right. I hope that fuckboy knows you’re mine, and mine only.”

“I’m yours, James, I’m yours.”

She was James’, so why did her mind drift to Natasha for a fleeting moment as she said it?

~~~

Y/n had dismissed Natasha for the night earlier than normal, letting her have the evening to herself before they went out. And she praised herself now, knowing James’ rage was just bottled up and sooner or later it would come out. She didn’t want her meek little redhead to have to see that.

And she was right. Whatever James had been feeling, he held it in until they were both nearly ready for bed. Y/n slid her rings off and placed them in the dish on her nightstand, each one clinking against the porcelain as she dropped it.

“What did you talk to him about?”

Y/n paused her movements for a second. “You’re still going on about that? I told you, it was just harmless conversation.”

“It didn’t look harmless, the way you were looking at him.”

Y/n was quite literally at the end of her tether with his accusations. “And how was that? How did I look at him?”

James rounded the bed, the single chain resting on his bare chest catching in the lamplight. “Like a slut.” His eye twitched, a sign he was pissed. “How do you think that looks for me? I step away for two seconds and my wife is whoring herself out to anyone she can find.”

“I find it laughable that you think you were away for two seconds,” she countered, stepping to the side to free herself from where he’d boxed her in. “May I remind you that I had finished my meal long before you even stepped foot back inside. He just came to talk to me and I engaged with the conversation, is that so bad?”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” James spat, his eyes following her figure as she paced around the room. “You shouldn’t-“

“Shouldn’t what? Shouldn’t talk? That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? A quiet little wife who only speaks when she’s spoken to and follows you around like a lost puppy.” James set his jaw, hands clenching by his sides. But Y/n carried on, spurred on by his accusations. “Well that’s not me James, and you know that!”

She paused and ran her fingers through her hair, exasperated. “How do you think it looks on you? You bring your wife out on a date but then can’t switch off from work for two minutes to actually enjoy your time with her! I’m saving your ass here, so be fucking grateful!”

That last sentence pushed him over the edge and James stormed over to her like a bull, backing her into a corner. “Grateful? Why should I be grateful? You’re a slut and-“

“Then treat me better and maybe I wouldn’t have to stray so far!”

James’ hand had connected with her cheek faster than either of them had time to process, his rings cutting into her skin painfully. They both froze. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, the sting of the slap blooming across her cheekbone. James was breathing hard, his hand still raised from the recoil.

An apology would come… wouldn’t it? It had to, he didn’t mean that. Y/n couldn’t move, it was like the air had been sucked out of the room. Her stomach lurched, just urging James to say something. Anything.

A whole host of scenarios of how the next few moments might play out raced through Y/n’s mind, but she didn’t foresee her husband walking out without a word, a button up shirt in his hand.

She watched the door click shut before she sank to the floor, legs buckling beneath her. She didn’t want to cry, he wasn’t worth that, yet the tears still fell, dripping down into the carpet that pressed into her knees. It wasn’t from the pain, but from how stupid she felt.

Why was she still pretending? She played off everything he said to her, claiming it didn’t hurt when in reality it cut deep like a knife. Beneath her defences, she just wanted someone to care and not just because she was pretty. She wanted the slow mornings, the affection that wasn’t just for show. The ‘hey how was your day’ that wasn’t just one sided. But Y/n had sacrificed all of that the day she married James, naive enough to think he’d warm up over time.

The house felt eerily quiet and the blanket of night settled across every room. Ignoring how the clock chimed two, Y/n hauled herself up off the floor and trudged down to the kitchen, barely noticing the icy floor on her bare feet.

The freezer must hold ice packs or something similar, anything to stop bruising and swelling that always leads to questions. Y/n didn’t even bother to check if anyone was around before she pulled the door open and rummaged around, falling upon a bag of frozen peas. Not ideal, but it would do.

Except for the hum of appliances, the kitchen was silent and shadows appeared as the dim fridge light cast a small pool around her. No one was here at this hour, so Y/n dropped her guard and slumped her shoulders, leaning against the side of the fridge with exhaustion.

But she wasn’t alone.

A certain redhead had frozen in place, her spoonful of ice cream hovering somewhere between the pint and her mouth. Natasha was a midnight snacker and her feasts were usually undisturbed, but the sound of footsteps had her retreating into a corner.

It was only when she saw that familiar curtain of hair did she emerge, slowly, as if approaching a small animal, to not scare her off.

“Y/n?” Natasha emerged from the shadows, spoon still in her hand. Y/n did a double take but kept her face turned away, forcing her guard up in a split second.

But it was too slow for Natasha. She saw the vulnerability

“What are you doing down here?”

“I came to get a snack,” she replied with as much conviction as a toddler. Green eyes fell to the bag of peas… interesting snack choice.

“Why didn’t you call for me? I would have come myself.”

“It’s the middle of the night, Natasha.”

“Which is exactly my point, why aren’t you asleep-“

Y/n suddenly emerged from the corner and allowed the fridge light to hit her cheek. Natasha recoiled with a gasp, blinking quickly to wake her brain up. Was she hallucinating or was that what she thought it was? Y/n’s eyes were heavy and looked at the floor, too ashamed to watch Natasha’s reaction

“Did he…?”

The lack of response that followed was louder than a thousand words and Natasha felt her blood boil. She would happily be put away for battery if it meant she could get her hands on James, but she had more pressing matters to attend to.

Abandoning her spoon on the metal table with a clatter, Natasha hurried over and prised the bag of vegetables from Y/n’s hand. She wrapped them in a towel and gently pressed them to her cheek, muttering an apology as her mistress winced.

“What happened?”

Y/n chewed her lip, still avoiding eye contact. “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Natasha nodded. “Ok,” she replied, respecting her wishes. You couldn’t push with Y/n, she had to come to you. “Here, sit up on there.” She helped Y/n hop onto the counter and her body instantly relaxed.

A comfortable silence fell between them both, somehow not affected by Y/n’s reluctance to talk. They never needed words, that’s what Y/n liked about Natasha so much. She was a comforting presence, and Y/n felt so at home around her.

With their faces so close, Y/n felt her chest warming at things she’d never noticed before. There were flecks of brown in Natasha’s clear green eyes, almost mirroring the freckles that danced faintly across her nose. The frown lines she had wiped away earlier were back and Y/n fought the urge to brush them away again.

After ten minutes, Natasha set the ice pack down on the side and helped Y/n down, the stone now digging into her butt uncomfortably. “Just let it rest for a bit before you ice it again. You don’t want to damage the skin.”

Y/n nodded, her face already numb. Their proximity was close but neither made an attempt to move. Natasha couldn’t keep her eyes off how red her cheek looked and Y/n desperately needed something to shut up the voices in her head.

Her eyes dropped down to Natasha’s lips, wanting to cry with how soft they looked. How gentle they’d feel on her skin, a stark contrast to the rough lips she was used to feeling dragging across her collarbones and neck. Natasha was soft and Y/n felt herself craving it.

“No, Y/n no.” Lost in her head, she’d failed to notice Natasha catching on, almost reading her mind. And as much as the redhead would love to reciprocate, it was inappropriate and not just because of her job.

Y/n leaned forwards, eyes glossy. “Please, Natasha-“

“You’re hurting, I won’t-“ Natasha shook her head, taking Y/n’s trembling hand in her own. She could make a pretty educated guess as to what had happened and did not want to be a part of Y/n’s inevitable. She pushed her own feelings down, stuffing them in a box and cramming the lid on tight.

But Y/n never made her life easy. She gripped Natasha’s hand, pulling it into her. “Please?”

“No, we can’t, you know that. And you’re my boss, Y/n-“

“Nat, I- I want you. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

The redhead faltered, watching the way her mistress’s chest heaved. Her head screamed at her to stop; it was so wrong. She couldn’t avoid the way her cheek burned red in the dim light, a stark contrast to the rest of her pale face. Never had she seen this much vulnerability in the woman who was full of wit and confidence.

The strength she was so used to seeing had completely disappeared and Y/n peered at her with tears on her waterline, her facade crumbling away with every second that ticked by.

Those seconds felt like an eternity before Natasha slowly reached her hand up.

But it was too soon.

Y/n flinched away, a tear escaping as she let out a whimper. Natasha quickly retreated her hand and let the woman before her turn back, not wanting to push her in any way.

“You’re safe,” Natasha whispered. Y/n’s eyes searched hers, trying to find any sign of a lie. But she came up empty. With a trembling hand, she reached for Natasha’s palm and allowed it to cup her other cheek. The touch was soft, warm, and everything she wasn’t used to. Even on instinct, Y/n couldn’t help but lean into it, eyelids fluttering closed for a split second before she forced them open.

“I’ve got you.”

Y/n glanced at Natasha’s lips and back up to her eyes. She needed to feel that warmth, she needed to kiss lips that didn’t curse her all day long.

“Natasha…”

The redhead couldn’t stop herself anymore and let Y/n lean forwards, connecting their lips in the most gentle kiss. Y/n tasted the sweet dessert on her lips as they moved against each other slowly, the hand on her cheek moving around to the back of her neck to hold her in place.

“Did you have ice cream?” Y/n mumbled against her lips, goosebumps lighting up her skin at Natasha’s touch.

“Maybe.”

The kiss wasn’t anything frantic or passionate, it couldn’t be. It was so featherlight that their lips barely touched, but the way Natasha’s blood felt like it was on fire was enough to convince her that they did touch. She let Y/n lead, moving their lips in tandem and fiddling with the baby hairs at the nape of her neck.

Y/n pulled away, a soft smile on her slightly swollen lips setting Natasha’s heart a flutter. The ache in her cheek was hardly noticeable in that moment; she was too fixated on the redhead in front of her.

She leaned in again, chasing that high she wasn’t ready to come down from yet. But Natasha gently pushed her back, shaking her head softly.

“Y/n, we can’t. We shouldn’t be doing this, you know that.” Y/n’s coping mechanisms were unhealthy to say the least, and as much as it pained her, Natasha couldn’t support that. Clarity had hit her like a ton of bricks and guilt settled in the bottom of her stomach, leaving a nasty taste in her mouth.

What were they doing?

Natasha’s heart shattered as she watched Y/n retreat into herself, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth slightly. Her eyes were glossy but the tears refused to spill over. Every muscle in her body was rigid, almost as if she was scared that if she moved, the dam would break and everything would come flooding out. Y/n may be good at a lot of things, but emotional confrontation was not one of those things.

“I know, I’m sorry.” She lingered for a moment, just willing Natasha to speak, to take back her words. Maybe if she closed her eyes, those lips would be on hers again. Their Midas touch, concealing the ache in her heart for a few fleeting moments was all she wanted.

But when Natasha stayed silent, Y/n turned and left, leaving the makeshift ice pack abandoned on the side. She couldn’t stay and let herself fall apart anymore. Her heart had broken twice that night, but why did it hurt so much worse now? Why did Natasha, her maid, have a stronger grip on it than her husband?

[lydiimae]

Strains and Stresses

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x !fem reader

Warnings: Light hints at sex, mentions of drinking, the ton being cruel to the reader, Anthony fighting with the reader, old concepts about class and womanhood, a very icky insult thrown at the reader by Anthony, fluffy fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.8k

A.N: Hello my sweet loves <3 I am so sorry I have not updated in a while, I just finished finals so life has been hectic. Also- I got a job FINALLY T-T and, more importantly, the class that I was going to take during the summer fell through so I will have much more time to write! BTW THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLOWERS HOLY \^-^/. You are all so kind to me. Anyway, this is a fic based on a request that you can find here and here. I decided to mix the two, as it is a semi-angsty Ant fic that ends in fluff. I hope you enjoy my darling Anons. For those who have requested a fic, I promise they are coming! I am planning on knocking another one or two out next week, but I wanted to write a Ben fic before as he is a big comfort character for me and I need some of that energy lol. P.S. I listened to the slowed version of Futile Devices while I wrote this, because it is just what I imagine falling in love and loving would feel like. Enjoy <3

You adored working for Lady Danbury, who wouldn't? She is an incredible woman, and so very strong. You admired her, for being so independent. You thought that that would be the life you lead, alone and working out your days as a maid. Then, you met him.

Met would be the wrong word, it was more of... stumbling into him after a young debutante 'accidentally' ran into you. You knew who Anthony Bridgerton was, of course. His reputation preceded him. Many of your friends and fellow maids had spoken of how harsh, how blunt, how much of a rake, the Viscount was.

For you, however, he had never been brash nor cruel, nor had he ever lived up to his reputation. For you, he was kind, gentle, and even sweet. He had placed a steadying hand on your back and met your eyes and you knew it was over.

From then on at every ball Lady Danbury held, you would always follow him to the gardens, stealing kisses in her in-home library, and sharing stolen glances from across the ballroom. After the balls, he would take you to his townhouse and you would both spend hours speaking of your lives, your dreams, your troubles. He was nothing but a gentleman.

You tried your best to ignore the strange warmth that bloomed in your chest when you were with him. In a way, you always knew that you would end up with him. You believed that your lives were intertwined, like a string wrapped around your soul that only stopped tugging when you were near him. It was comforting.

He had expressed his love to you about seven months in, on a Sunday morning in bed. The yellow hue of the morning sunrise made it feel like you were in heaven, his hands running against your sides like you were made from the finest porcelain. He said it easily as if it was the most simple thing he had ever had to do. A simple "I love you." was murmured into your ear before his lips pressed against your forehead. Just as easily came the proposal, more of a promise, right there in the same bed.

It was simple, perhaps even plain, but not to you. To you, it showed he was comfortable enough to express his feelings, and his deepest wants, just to you. It was intimate, the light cascading down upon his skin as if he were a god, bringing out every contour and mark on his body.

After the announcement of your engagement, rumors spread like wildfire. Every house in Mayfair was a spark that made the fire grow, little trails of flame splitting off along the way until the fire was all-consuming. He had warned you that the rumors would be bad, that not many would express their support for the union of a maid and a Viscount. You just did not expect it to be so suffocating.

You found solace in his embrace, as you always did, spending countless nights wrapped in the silk sheets at his townhouse, listening to his whispers of affection and praise until they eased the tears that had spilled down your cheeks.

It went on like this for the three long months leading up to the wedding. You were married in the spring, surrounded by his loved ones as yours had passed long ago. It was small enough to feel the heavy weight of the ton lifted off of your shoulders, if only for a moment.

You honeymooned in Bath, spending time in the hillsides on worn blankets for hours, allowing your skin to be tanned by the sun. When you would go back to the villa you were staying at, you would spend the night wrapped in his bare embrace, relishing in the feeling of his skin upon yours. It was the most calming, loving, and divine three months of your life.

It has been almost eight months since the honeymoon ended. Six months of putting up with the cruel words spoken by members of the ton, of sticking to his side at balls just so you could try and shake the feeling of the many glares sent your way. Six months of learning not only what it is to be a Viscountess, but what it is like to be a noblewoman.

Anthony had spent a month teaching you the proper etiquette that came with being a noblewoman, a lot of it being common sense thanks to Lady Danbury's way of ruling around her home. However, there were some things you found to be too niche to remember. One thing was that a lady could not go out on a walk by herself.

As a maid, walks alone in the gardens of Lady Danbury's estate had become a part of your daily routine. You would often spend countless hours sitting beneath a willow tree flipping pages of a new book or you would walk around the grounds, seeking solace in the fresh air to clear your mind after a particularly hard day. You never snuck out alone, except to see Anthony, and even then you did nothing untoward, which is why it was so hard for you to remember this silly rule. It was one you forgot today, too.

"Thank you, Rose." You hum to your lady's maid as she finishes your hair. She smiles and curtsies in return. "Of course, my lady. You need only ask if you need anything else." She says before she walks out of the room. You sigh, the title the servants address you with will never not feel strange. You adjust your jewels before standing up and walking to the window.

You had been told as you woke that your husband would be in his study today, claiming he must work on the financial affairs, meaning you have the day to yourself. The view from the master bedroom was a gorgeous one, the windows overlooking the entirety of the lands that Aubery Hall encompassed. You smile to yourself, deciding to take a stroll, perhaps even find a spot to enjoy your new book of sonnets Anthony's brother gifted you.

You pluck the book in question off of your bedside table before walking down the grand staircase. The house, other than the footsteps of the servants, is quiet. No one around to stop you from enjoying some time outside, alone. You grab your parasol and open the door, stepping out into the summer air before making your way around the lands of the estate.

Anthony leans back in his desk chair, stretching out his limbs after finishing the last piece of paperwork he has on his desk. He takes a large swig of bourbon before standing up and moving to the window, pulling the curtains open.

He glances out over the sprawling hills of the estates, swirling the copper liquid in his glass as he takes in the view. As his eyes roam, he spots a small figure making their way up one of the hills. At first, he thinks it a servant, probably out to collect fresh flowers for his bedroom upon his wife's request, but when he glances again he sees your parasol. The one he brought back from one of his ventures to France.

He can feel himself getting angry. He had drilled this into your head one too many times, never be anywhere alone, not in public and not on private lands. The servants whisper, and their gossip spreads even faster than the gossip of the bloodthirsty Mamas of the ton. He downs the rest of his bourbon before slamming the glass on his desk. He rounds it and grabs his velvet jacket from its place on the back of his chair, slinging it around his shoulders before stomping out of the room.

You are just about to sit down when you hear the calling of your name from towards the estate. You look over your shoulder, leaning on your closed parasol, to find your husband hurriedly making his way over to where you stand.

At first, you think that something bad might've happened, perhaps he found something in the many documents that was awry, but you know that is not the case from the way he is walking. Stomping, rather. He is angry, furious even, so you try and wrack your mind to find what you have done to make him this angry.

Before you can he is upon you, one of his large hands encircling your wrists and dragging you away from the hill. "Anthony, do not grab me like some sort of brute!" You yelp, trying to tug away from his bruising grip, which he only tightens upon your plea. "I shall grab you however I wish." He snarls, making your eyes widen. "Be quiet until we are inside."

He tugs you along until you are both inside of his study, where he slams the door and locks it. You begin to speak but he quickly interrupts. "Have you any idea of what you could have just done by being out there, Y/N?!" He shouts, making you take several steps back in surprise. "I was only going for a walk." You whisper and he scoffs. "A walk alone, you foolish woman!" He continues, his voice only getting louder.

The insult sends anger through your veins. "You shall not insult your own wife for merely going outside!" You shout back and he narrows his eyes almost dangerously. "I have told you hundreds of times that you are not permitted outside without a proper companion, Y/N! Going against that is indeed foolish as I have hammered it into your head countless times!" He shouts. "I am not foolish! This is all new for me! I-" You start but he is quick to respond.

"New? That is rich! Utterly rich, because to me it has been eleven months! Eight of which you have been here, doing your duties as my Viscountess!" He shouts louder, on the verge of screaming. You press yourself against the wall opposite to him. "Did they not teach you anything in your time as a maid?! You still act like a common whore even though we have fought about this too many times to count! I am tired of it!" He shouts.

Common whore. The title cuts straight through you like a hot knife, the burns making your eyes well up with tears. The title has been used to spite you at every ball, in every gossip letter, and in every whisper you have heard in the last year. It does not hurt coming from them any longer, but from him? From your husband? It feels like he has damaged your very being.

You stand there stunned, watching his mouth move but hearing no words. "You think I am a common whore?" You whisper and he stops, looking at you. You are pressed against the wall, your arms hugging your frame, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. His body language visibly changes from that of an angered husband to a guilty one.

"Y/N I did not mean-" He begins but you shake your head. "You most certainly did mean it, it came out of your mouth!" You sob. "I was angry! I am angry!" He shouts, more in a desperate act now, wishing he could reverse time. "So?!" You shout, your gloved hands pressing into your bare arms. "I have never once insulted you like that! Never once used what has been said about you as a weapon for merely-" You laugh bitterly, shaking your head and looking away. "For merely going outside." You scoff.

He falters and visibly slumps in defeat. "It is foolish, but they will talk, Y/N. You know-" He begins quietly, but again you do not let him finish. "Yes, Anthony. They will talk, they will say the words you have just spoken to me." You say, wiping your eyes. "I forgot, and I know you have drilled every rule into my head but this is not the norm for me." You whisper

"When I was a maid, no, even when I was a little girl, I would go wherever I wished alone. I would pick up food at the market for my family, and take my brother to his job at the factory, and now I cannot even go outside alone? Upon my husband's private lands, no less?" You whisper. "So forgive me, Anthony, for forgetting rules that you and your siblings have grown up abiding by. I am trying to learn and remember them now, after living a very different life." You say, looking at your feet in an attempt to stop the tears. As if not looking at him will somehow ease the sting of his words.

He scoops you into his arms without thinking about it, pressing his forehead to yours. "Y/N, you know I did not mean it." He whispers and you frown, trying to tug away. "No, no. I might've meant it in the moment, and I know I cannot take it back." He amends, his hold on you tightening. Still, you refuse to meet his eyes. "Darling, please look at me. I swear I shall never say anything as cruel as what I did ever again." He whispers, his fingers curling around your chin so he can bring your gaze back to him.

When your eyes meet his he offers a sad smile, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear. "It was cruel. No, no. Cruel is too kind of a word, it was vile, for me to utter such a word when speaking of my own wife." He whispers, his hand coming down to your cheek. "I swear to you that I mean it when I say I am sorry, you shall never know how sorry I am for saying something so disgusting to you."

He continues, his thumbs swiping away the tears that have now begun to flow again. "You are the most important thing to me. I have done a terrible job of showing you that today. I shall spend every day trying to ease the pain of my foolish words." He vows, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I know this is hard for you, the rules of society are so... foolishly strict for women and even I cannot imagine how much stress they are adding upon everything else" He murmurs, and you tug at his sleeve, willing him into an embrace.

You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and allow yourself to cry. "Shhh, Y/N. You are perfect, no matter your status." He whispers in your ear, running one of his hands up and down your back as the other rests on your hip. "I am not a good Viscountess, Anthony." You whisper and his grip on you tightens. "Hush. You are the perfect Viscountess, Y/N. The perfect Bridgerton." He promises.

"You have been learning so quick, one slip-up of an utterly foolish rule does not discount the many months where you have been perfect." He whispers, pressing his lips to the side of your head. "Neither do the words of your brutish husband." He teases quietly and your lips turn up a bit. "The gossiping Mamas will find another topic in time, my love. They are merely jealous that their daughters are still stuck without a husband while you are here." He murmurs and you nod.

He pulls back and cups your cheeks, watching your eyes flutter shut. "Better?" He whispers, running his thumbs along your cheekbones. You nod and he sighs in relief, bringing you closer to his chest. "I will never be able to express how sorry I am for saying that to you." He whispers. You smile, leaning into his touch and nodding.

He presses a gentle kiss to your lips and wipes the remainder of your tears away before pulling back a bit. "We shall have a picnic." He whispers and you open your eyes, laughing. "We do not have to" You giggle and he grins, shaking his head. "Nonsense, we must. I have been cooped up inside all day and I wish to spend time with you, in the sunshine." He hums, pressing his lips to your nose.

An hour later you are both lying down on a lacy blanket, a picnic basket full of sweet treats. Two glasses of wine stand abandoned on the grass, being forgotten in a mess of kisses. Your head is resting on his chest, your hands clasped together over one of his legs. "I love you." He whispers, pressing a kiss to your brow. Your eyes are shut but you smile. "And I love you." You whisper back, falling asleep while bathed in sunlight.

How divine it feels to be loved by Anthony Bridgerton.

[poppyflower-22]

His Girl

Part 2

Summary: Lando loves his rich, girl boss, girl. Though he doesn't really know what she really does underneath. Until he does.

or

In which Lando finds out his girlfriend is not who she said she was.

Side note: I'm using names for reader, and spelling and grammar errors. This is fake, nothing is real. So don't send shit massages to me.

Warnings: Blood. Dead body. Guns.

Part One

Masterlist

2022

It had been two years since Bonnie and Lando met and started dating. In those two years, they had been so in love. Never felling like this with anyone else. Lando's family was so happy for them both seeing their love.

Lando had never questioned where she got her money as Bonnie had told him that her father was wealthy and left her with everything and the company.

He did question her about the bodyguards following her all the time, But Bonnie had just said that it had been like that since she was born as he father was a wealthy man.

He was in aww when he had first saw her two-story London home. It was set on an acreage and was huge. He had jockeying asked if she was in the mafia, what he didn't see was the color to drain from her face and her guards throw each other looks.

The first time Lando had ever been almost close to figuring it out was by accident. Something Bonnie had made saw never happened again. Because if she was ever going to protect anything in the world it would be Lando and their relationship.

It was an early morning in London. The sun not even rising yet. Lando had been staying with Bonnie for a bit in her home as they talked about buying an apartment or house together last night.

Bonnie was relucent, but she agreed it was the next step in their relationship. But she would be keeping her estate in London for business and travel.

Lando was so ecstatic for their move together. And they had celebrating, by having sex. Never a dull moment with Lando.

Bonnie woke as someone entermeted her room and shook her lightly. Lando's arm was around her waist and the other was under her head.

"Miss. Salvatore." A light voice whispered to her. Bonnie new that voice and the only person to ever wake her up would be her maid.

"Mary?" Bonnie asked confused as she sat up quickly, not to disturb Lando.

Her maid's face greeted her. "Someone's here to see you." She spoke her voice shaking lightly.

"Who? At this time?" She whispered to her maid as she carefully got out of bed and grabbed her robe from the floor. Lando rolled over to the other side quickly falling asleep.

"Mr. Lopez is here." Mary whispered terrified.

Bonnie froze from getting her slippers on and looked at Mary wide eye. Mr. Lopez was a rival mafia gang that had always had it out for her father and his operation. While her father dealed guns and money, Mr. Lopez dealed drugs. Something her father stayed away from.

"Get the men and stay here in case Lando wakes up." Bonnie order her maid as she bent down and lifted the rug from under bed and pulled her daggers from out of the floorboards.

Bonnie walked down the hall with her guards all around her. When she got to the grand staircase, she saw her other maids and she guested he was in the parlor room.

"Making yourself at home." Bonnie called as she walked in the room and saw him sitting on one of the black couches.

Mr. Lopez chuckled. "Why how are this fine morning, Bonnie." He smiled at her. But in a cruel way.

"It's Miss Salvatore to you." She snaped and crossed her arms and took a seat in front of him. Mr.' Lopez's back was facing the back where Bonnie's guards were. Ready to kill if needed. "What do you want that couldn't wait till the sunrise was up?" She asked annoyed.

A maid walked in the room with tea for Bonnie. She thanked her and faced the man. He raised his eyebrows. "No offerings for your guest?" He asked leaning back in the leather couch.

Bonnie shot him an annoyed look. "No." She bluntly told him as she added her sugar cubes to her tea. "Now get to it." She ordered.

"Your father dealed in guns and money but now that he's gone, don't think it's time you expanded." Mr. Lopex started as Bonnie listened closely.

"What are you proposing?"

"Drugs." He simply said. "You would be making more money than you do now." He smiled thinking money would get her to agree.

"No." She simply spoke as she crossed her legs.

Mr. Lopez frowned. "You didn't even think about it."

Bonnie shook her head. "I have. My father didn't like drugs and I don't like drugs." She told him. "If that's all you wanted to talk about, you can go now." She told him and leaned back in her seat with her cup of tea.

Mr. Lopez frowned at her and then smirked, "You don't want me to hurt Mr. Norris up in your bedroom, do you?" He taunted her.

Bonnie tensed. The maids and guards that were in the room tensed as well. They had seen firsthand how much Bonnie loved Lando. They knew what she would do to keep him safe.

"Are you threating me?" Bonnie asked as she put her tea down and narrowed her eyes at him.

"No, I'm threating your boyfriend." He smirked. "I want you to do drugs and split all your proferts with me."

"Or what?"

"Mr. Norris gets a rude awaking." Mr. Lopez smirked thinking he won. He leaned back in his seat as he watches Bonnie's face go from fear to blank.

"Do you know what my father always taught me, Mr. Lopez?" She asked as she stood up from her seat and out of the way. She moved to the fireplace martlet where photos of her and her father were sat.

"What?" He asked confused.

Bonnie smiled at a photo of her and her father. It was her sixth birthday. She turned to Mr. Lopez and smirked as her loyal guard got his silencer gun out of his jacked.

"He told me that you never enter a house without protection or backup. And you especially never threaten their family. And you Josphe Hunt Lopez have just made that mistake." She smirked and watched as he quickly shot up and turn around and a bullet was lodge in his head.

He fell back and dropped on her marble floors. Blood quickly falling out near his head. Bonnie looked at his dead body. "Never threaten someone's loved ones."

The maids quickly got to cleaning just as Marry come around the corner with a look in her eyes.

"Love?" Lando called. bonnie eyes widened and she skipped out of the parlor door and closed them behind her as Lando came down the staircase. His eyes lit up when he saw her. "There you are." He smiled.

Bonnie hugged him back when he hugged her. His head rested in her neck as he hummed. "What are you doing up?" She asked him and ran her hand through his hair.

"What are you doing up." He shot back teasingly. She shot him a grin and shook her head with a laugh.

"Business call." She answered with a smile. Trying to not sound nervous. Lando just hummed and Bonnie took him by the hand and started walking up the stairs. "Why don't we get back bed and try to get more sleep?" She suggested.

Lando hummed with a smile. "Yeah. I just saw you weren't up and wondered where you were." He spoke and shot her a small smile one she sent back.

"Sorry. Duty calls." She laughed lightly. When Lando's back was turned she shot a look at a maid, and she nodded before walking back into the parlor, to help clean the mess up.

Bonnie and Lando both walked back to their room as the maids and bodyguards cleaned up Mr. Lopez. It was something Bonnie didn't want to ever happen again in her home.

Maybe moving was good. Many people from her world didn't know where she lived but the rest that new where people that she trusted now. Her and her people getting rid of the people she didn't trust.

She wouldn't let anything happen to Lando. She wouldn't forgive herself.

Bonnie smiled at Lando as they both got back under the covers. Lando resting his head on her chest. "I love you." Lando told Bonnie as he was falling asleep by Bonnie's fingers running threw his hair.

Bonnie smiled and kissed the top of his head. "I love you, Lan." She whispered back. She felt Lando place a soft kiss on her chest and Bonnie listened to his breathing as he put back to sleep.

Bonnie would do anything for him. he was the best thing that ever happen to her. She hadn't loved much in her short life. But now that she had felt it, looked at it. She was never letting it go or letting anyone destroy what she had found.

Her parents were the only love she had ever seen growing up. Her father had loved her mother so much and it killed him when she died but he didn't turn out horrible like most dads, no he loved her so much. Did everything he could for her.

Her father always said that he didn't regret loving her mother, because he got to know what love was. And he wouldn't change that for that world. She wanted that. A love that will hurt you when it's over. Because then you know it was real.

"I would do anything for you." She whispered down to Lando who was asleep. She placed a light kiss to his cheek. "Nothing is ever going to happen to you on my watch. I'll make sure of it." She promises herself and asleep Lando.

Making promise you can't keep was always going to end badly. There was no dyeing that.

Part 1

Masterlist

Hope you liked it. Hopefully the next part won't be long.

[seonghrtz]

𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 ✶ nanami kento

꒰ first sight ! ꒱ an invitation to a palace ball gives a young woman hope of reuniting with the dashing stranger she met in the woods.

❛❛ an unlikely encounter in the woods between two desperate souls led to the blossoming of a beautiful friendship ⸻ or perhaps something more. ❜❜

pairing. prince!nanami kento x (cinderella)fem!reader.

contents. cinderella alternative universe, fluff, slight angst, friends to lovers, he fell first he fell harder, royal!au, mentions of death, occ nanami.

amy's note. hi sweetie, this is amy!!! this story was more inspired by the cinderella live action movie (2015). i love this movie and have watched it so many times with my mom that i know it by heart hihihi. also, i had to include the iconic scenes of cinderella and the prince in the garden and the stepmother breaking the crystal slipper!!! and one quote from jane austen's pride and prejudice. in short, just nanami being the prince we deserve!!! i hope you enjoy it and have a good read <3

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

𝕺𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, there was a beautiful, sweet girl called Y/n. This little girl lived a quiet life with her family. Her father was a merchant who traveled frequently and her mother stayed at home, due to her fragile health, teaching her daughter and taking care of her. Although it was a simple life, Y/n was happy and that was enough for her.

However, fate doesn't always have a happy ending for everyone, and her mother eventually passed away due to health complications. And with her last breath, she wished that her daughter would always be kind and gentle, that she would have courage and always want to do good, even when evil tries to prevail. And Y/n promised her mother that her kindness would prevail in the most difficult moments of her life and that she would live a good life.

Not long after her mother's death, the girl's father decided to remarry, looking for a way for his daughter to have a mother figure, not to replace her biological mother, but someone who could be by her side when he couldn't be. Things didn't go well in the family, her stepmother and stepsisters were mean and abusive, taking advantage of her kindness when her father was away on business. And then everything fell apart when the girl's father had an accident on one of his trips and died, leaving his daughter at the mercy of her stepmother and stepsisters' selfish will.

Y/n was reduced to a maid instead of a family member. She was moved from her room to the attic and had to do the housework, washing and cooking all day. She watched as everything her mother believed in and liked gradually disappeared, while things became more her stepmother's style.

One day, tired of everything, the young woman rode into the forest. The wind in her hair and the tears drying on her face felt a little liberating. That same day, she crossed paths with a young man named Kento, who wasn't having his best day either.

An unlikely encounter in the woods between two desperate souls led to the blossoming of a beautiful friendship ⸻ or perhaps something more.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

Y/n awoke with the sunrise. After years, the young woman had become accustomed to the routine and every morning she rose early to prepare breakfast for her stepmother and stepsisters and then set about cleaning the house. At the very least, doing the chores around the house kept her mind busy.

Just as she was preparing the materials to clean the house, a knock on the front door echoed throughout the house. Y/n left the bucket of water she was holding in a corner and went to the door, surprised by the sudden visit. It was too early for people to leave their homes, and the postman had come the day before.

"Good morning" the young woman smiled politely at the stranger in front of her "What can I do for you?"

"Good morning, miss." The young man fumbled with the bag hanging next to his body and pulled out an envelope, holding it out to the young woman. Y/n took the envelope and watched as the boy said goodbye and walked away without saying another word.

The young woman looked surprised, but shrugged her shoulders. She made her way to the pantry where her stepmother was having breakfast and asked to be excused before entering the room.

"What did I say about coming into the living room while I'm having breakfast?" her stepmother said with a harsh tone.

"Excuse me, but a boy just came by and left this envelope." The young woman placed the envelope on the table and walked away, watching as her stepmother picked it up and opened it.

Y/n waited for a reaction and was startled when the older woman in front of her suddenly stood up from the breakfast table and gave several quick and shouting orders.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, GO WAKE UP MY DAUGHTERS! WE HAVE A ROYAL BALL TO ATTEND AND WE NEED THE BEST DRESSES!”

"A royal ball?" she asked confused.

"The King is giving a ball to find a wife for his son, who will inherit the kingdom, now run along because I need to go into town to find the three best dresses in town! One of my daughters is coming back married that night!"

"Oh, ma'am, that's very kind of you!"

"What?" The stepmother put her hands on her waist.

"The dress..."

"Oh dear, and who says the dress is for you?" the older woman laughed with glee, "Two will be for my beautiful daughters and the other will be for me, I will not spend my money to buy something for you to wear to the ball."

"But could I go to the ball?" she asked hopefully.

"Um..." the stepmother looked the young woman up and down, "If you've done all your chores for the day and have a dress, maybe you could go."

"Ah, thank you, ma'am!" Y/n smiled excitedly at the idea of going to a royal ball.

"Now go wake up my daughters!"

After waking her step-sisters, the young woman watched as the house descended into chaos. The two sisters screamed excitedly at the idea of the royal ball, while their stepmother ordered them to go to the city. Y/n felt true peace only when the house was deserted, just her and the animals in it. And without further ado, the young woman smiled to herself and ran to the stable. Luckily, her stepmother had left just when she had a secret appointment.

On the day she received the news of her father's death, and on the same day she rode aimlessly into the forest, Y/n had met Kento, a young man who had happened to receive tragic news and had ridden into the forest to relax. After the unexpected meeting, the young woman and the man agreed to meet every day in the same place at the same time to talk about their tragedies and successes. However, Y/n had kept these meetings secret, afraid that if her stepmother found out, she would forbid her to meet the boy she knew so little about.

With a slight smile on her face, the young woman rode to the meeting point and was surprised to see Kento waiting for her. Usually, she was the first to arrive, but the euphoria over the news of the ball had delayed her a few minutes.

"Miss." Kento smiled at the sight of her and helped her off the horse.

"Ken, I'm sorry I'm late!" she said, smoothing down the unruly strands that had been messed up by the wind "The invitation to the royal ball ended up stirring things up at home."

"Speaking of the royal ball, will you be attending?" Kento tried to hide the slight hint of hope in his words.

"I still have my doubts about that," she sighed, sitting down on a log next to her horse. "My stepmother said that if I managed to finish all my chores for the day, and if I had a dress, I could go to the ball."

"If they treat you like that, why don't you leave?"

"It's not that easy...not to mention that it's not that bad, other places can be more hostile."

"I see..." the young man sits down next to the woman, "I'd like you to go to the ball so we can have at least one dance.”

The young man's words made her laugh.

"Then I hope you'll save a dance for me."

"I'm saving all the dances for you, you're the only one I want to dance with on the ball night." Kento's words made Y/n feel shy.

"I think there will be many more interesting ladies to dance with." The young woman shifted her gaze to the trees that made up the scenery around her.

"I have no interest in other ladies, none of them can compare to you."

"Kento! You shouldn't say that!"

"Why not? My mother taught me to be honest and I'm just telling the truth," a small smile appeared on his lips.

"Maybe you shouldn't be so direct with your honesty..." The young woman's face burned at the statement of the man next to her.

"Well, I wish you'd come to the ball so we could see each other outside of this forest for once."

"And dance the night away?" she laughed lightly.

"And dance the night away," Kento repeated her question, but this time as a concrete statement, leaving no doubt about his intentions with the young woman on the night of the royal ball.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

If Y/n said she didn't expect her stepmother and stepsisters to make her day the busiest of her life, running around doing chores and being responsible for every little detail of the preparations for the royal ball, she would be lying.

She'd woken up earlier than usual to get her mother's gown ready for the royal ball, but it wasn't long before her stepmother started barking orders, causing her gown to be forgotten. Cleaning the stairs, feeding the animals in the barn, helping her step-sisters put on their huge, garish party dresses, helping them fix their hair... among other things, Y/n had no time to finish her own dress.

Perhaps her meeting with Kento should only take place in the forest, hidden in secret. There would be no other way, not if her stepmother still had the power to dictate orders and interfere in her life as if she couldn't make her own decisions.

When she finished climbing the stairs that led to the attic where her bedroom had become, the young girl was surprised to open the door and find her mother's dress mended, brand new.

"How…?" Y/n approached the dress, delighted, "Oh, it doesn't matter, thank you to whoever made it!" She smiled excitedly, now she could meet Kento and dance with him all night, just as she had said she would if she could attend the ball.

The young woman took a quick shower to get ready for the ball. There wasn't much to prepare, she fixed her dress to her body, put on her pink shoes with low heels, applied pink lipstick and put on her mother's pearl necklace before fixing her hair. She didn't have much, just as she didn't need much. Y/n was just happy to be at the ball and to have the opportunity to meet her friend. And she preferred to keep it simple.

But her happiness was short-lived...

When she came down to the parlor just as her stepmother and daughters were about to leave for the ball. Looking at the girl in her ball gown, with a happy expression on her face, Madame Tremaine saw the perfect moment to break her like fragile old porcelain.

"What's that?" Her stepmother's superior look didn't intimidate Y/n.

"I'm ready to go to the royal ball!"

"You? The ball?" Drizella laughed anasally, "But not even on the day the pigs fly!"

"Mom, I don't want to be seen with the maid! Look at these rags! They don't even compare to our fancy dresses!" Anastasia commented, looking up and down at the young woman in front of her.

"But you promised I could go if I had a dress and finished my homework," the young woman said, remembering the agreement they had made when they were invited to the ball.

"I don't remember promising you anything," Tremaine circled Y/n like a predator circles its prey. "You must have misunderstood, my dear. Never in my life would I go to such an important ball with a filthy, ridiculous little girl like you." The woman held the young woman's chin tightly, forcing her to look into her cold, hateful eyes.

"I don't understand... I've never done anything to you..." Y/n mumbled, her eyes watering as much from the force her stepmother put on her jaw as from the words spoken to her.

"You're an insignificant, annoying little thing, you know that?" Tremaine let go of Y/n's chin and smiled sideways before reaching for the pearl necklace that adorned the young woman's neck and ripping it off with her own hand, startling her. "Oops!" the woman smiled as she tore the sleeve and front of the dress, making her daughters laugh at the scene and help their mother destroy the dress, "Come on girls, we can't be late for the ball.”

Y/n felt her body shake, and when they were gone, the young woman ran quickly, sobbing, to the garden ⸻ the place where she had so many memories with her family, with her mother, and which Tremaine had never been able to change. She sat down on a bench and began to cry, not just for what had happened a few moments ago, but for everything she had been through these past few years without her family.

"But what is a beautiful girl doing crying instead of having fun at the ball?" The voice of a mysterious person startled Y/n, who was trapped in her own world of memories.

"Who... Who are you?" The young woman looked up, startled, and rubbed her eyes to wipe away the tears.

"Your fairy godmother, dear! Or rather, your Fairy Godfather!"

"What?" The young woman looked at the person before her. He was tall, with white hair, blue eyes hidden behind glasses, and a pair of large shiny wings.

"You can call me Gojo if you prefer, now come on, hurry up, we have a ball to attend!" Gojo said hurriedly, pulling Y/n to get up from the bench.

"But I can't go to the ball like this!"

"What do you mean?" His glasses slipped down his nose.

"My dress is torn, I can't go like this."

"And why didn't you say so before?" Gojo raised an eyebrow, "Do you mind a few casual changes?" He pulled his wand from his pocket and smiled when he saw the young woman nod, "Then let's go!"

Gojo scratched his throat before dictating the dress, which completely transformed. The pink quickly turned to blue, and the single layer became several. The dress became voluminous, shiny and elegant, fit for a princess ⸻ and Y/n couldn't help but feel like one in that wonderful dress.

"Let me see your feet," Gojo ordered.

"What? My feet? Why do you want to see my feet?"

"Are you crazy thinking I won't do my full job? You need a proper shoe for that dress!"

Without questioning the fairy, Y/n lifted the hem of her dress to reveal her pink shoes, which in less than a few seconds had been transformed into a beautiful pair of crystal heels.

"Are they crystal?" the young woman asked in shock.

"The real question is, why not crystal? It's just a little gift, honey," Gojo smiled sideways, "Now hurry up, or you'll miss the first dance! Do you have any pumpkins?"

"Pumpkin? There are some over there." Y/n pointed to one of the corners of the garden.

"Wonderful. We have a pumpkin and some mice, perfect for a carriage and its horses." Gojo smiled proudly before casting another spell, transforming the pumpkin into a huge, detailed carriage and the nearby mice into majestic horses, "Now let's go, you can't be late!" He pulled Y/n into the carriage.

"But what about my stepmother and my step-sisters? They'll recognize me when they see me at the ball!"

"Don't worry about that!" Gojo tapped the young girl's head with his wand, "And remember, sweetie, all this magic here will only last until midnight, no longer."

"Until midnight?" Y/n smiled sweetly, "That's long enough, I don't need more than that. Thank you for everything you've done for me."

"No thanks, sweetie, I'm your fairy godfather, it's just my job. Now go to the ball and have fun, break it out!"

"All right!" Y/n laughed, "Thanks again!"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

Y/n was late.

She realized this when she finished climbing the endless stairs that led to the entrance of the ballroom and found the doors closed.

The young woman took a deep breath before opening the doors, allowing a glimpse of the stairs that would lead to the dance floor and where the other guests were gathered. She bowed when she saw the king on a throne at the top of the hall and walked quietly down the stairs, but the people began to spread out, forming a corridor from one side of the hall to the other.

Noticing the person on the other side, the young woman smiled and walked excitedly toward the person in the middle of the hall.

"Ken," Y/n smiled at the sight of the blonde.

"You came." Kento smiled, lost in the beauty of the woman before him.

"You promised me a dance," she smiled at the memory of their last encounter in the forest.

"Then I would like... I mean... allow me the greatest of pleasures by granting me the honor of letting you lead this... first..."

"Dance?" the young woman said, completing the prince's request.

"Yes, dance." Kento smiled awkwardly with a blush on his cheeks and ears as he saw the woman before him nod in agreement.

Gently pulling her by the waist and holding one of her hands, Kento led the dance as soon as the music began, whirling her around the hall. The young prince held her tightly, afraid that this moment would be one of his dreams, for he had found her fragile in the forest at a time when his own heart was fragile.

"Everyone is looking at you." Y/n mumbled sheepishly as she noticed the eyes of the guests watching them dance around the ballroom.

"You couldn't be more wrong." Kento laughed slightly, "They're looking at you."

When the music for the first dance ended, there was no waiting for the next dance to begin. Soon, the ballroom floor was filled with couples happily dancing to the lively music of the orchestra.

"Come with me." Kento whispered in Y/n's ear and led her out of the room.

"So... you're the prince?" The young woman asked even though it was as obvious as sunlight. She wanted an excuse to strike up a conversation as they walked to wherever Kento wanted to take her.

"Not the Prince, but one of the princes that exist in the world," Kento said awkwardly, "There are several... not just me..."

"But aren't you an apprentice, as you told me when we first met?"

"Yes, I'm an apprentice monarch who is still learning his trade." Nanami's words made Y/n laugh briefly, "First of all, I should apologize. Please forgive me for my lies, I imagined you would treat me differently if you knew I was the prince of these lands, I thought you were a good honest girl and now I have proof that you really are."

"So... no more surprises?" the young woman asks the boy, holding out her hand and showing him her little finger.

"No more surprises." Kento gently intertwined his little finger with the young woman's, wishing the world could stop right then and there. "This way, I promise we'll be right there," he said as he led her through the castle's vast garden.

"Won't they miss you at the ball?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, "but I'm not planning on going back just yet."

"Is there a problem?"

“If I go back now, they'll try to push me towards a lady of their choosing." Nanami said dejectedly, maybe he didn't want to talk about his problems, not on such a magical night. "They want me to marry for advantage.”

"Well, I think you should rule your heart," the young woman said with a slight smile.

"Perhaps, but I must listen to and obey the king's wishes."

"He's your father, Kento, I'm sure he'll understand your point of view, you just need the right time"

"I've never shown this place to anyone before," Kento said, changing the subject when they reached the spot he wanted to show the young woman. "It's a secret garden, I thought you might like it.”

"I love it!" Y/n smiled as she explored the area until she came to a swing attached to a tree.

"Please," the young prince said, motioning for her to sit on the swing as soon as he noticed her gaze.

"I don't know if I should," the young woman said shyly.

"Yes, you should."

"No, I shouldn't."

"Yes, you should."

"No."

"Yes!"

"Okay." She shrugged, gave in and sat down on the swing, and Nanami soon began to push her gently.

Y/n had as much fun as Nanami. They'd never met outside the confines of the forest, and even after so many surprises that beautiful night, they couldn't help but feel the magic ⸻ and love ⸻ in the air. There, at that moment, Nanami Kento wasn't a prince about to be thrown to the first rich princess who would sign a contract favorable to the kingdoms, and Y/n wasn't the maid of her stepmother and stepsisters who was constantly being abused. They were just themselves, without their titles, without what defined them, they were just two souls in love, enjoying the time they had left.

When Y/n's crystal shoe accidentally came off her foot, Nanami quickly stopped pushing her on the swing and crouched down in front of her, taking the shoe in his hands. He held up the hem of her dress, revealing Y/n's bare foot, and gently picked it up to put the shoe back on her foot.

"Is it crystal?" Nanami's hand, holding the young woman's foot, unconsciously patted her ankle.

"And why wouldn't it be?" she said gracefully, "Thank you."

"Y/n... would you accept..." The young prince's speech was cut short as the clock struck midnight.

"It's midnight..." The young woman got up from the swing, causing Nanami to get up with her in fright. "I have to go!"

"Wait!" Nanami watched as the young woman hurried past the exit of the garden. "Why do you have to go now?"

"Your Royal Highness is very kind, thank you for the wonderful evening," she said as she walked in quick steps, "I will never forget every second we spent together, it was magical. And who knows, maybe we can meet again in the forest."

"Why are you in such a hurry?"

"It's hard to explain! But I promise we'll meet again!" Y/n smiled as she ran frantically.

"Y/n! Where are you going?" Kento ran after the young woman, but unfortunately, there were several obstacles in his way. It was as if the universe didn't want him to reach her at this moment.

As she descended the castle's long staircase to the exit gates, she lost one of her crystal slippers on one of the steps. Fearing the final chime of the clock, the young woman left the shoe behind, believing that its magic would eventually fade, and it would be nothing more than a lost heel.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ✶

All the magic vanished when Y/n arrived home, leaving only her little crystal shoe on her foot. The young woman bent down and picked up the only remaining shoe ⸻ since she had lost the other pair ⸻ and smiled as she looked at the shoe in her hands. The fact that it was there proved that it hadn't been a dream, but a real event.

Y/n went up to the attic and on a loose floor ⸻ where she kept some of her mother's things ⸻ she put on the crystal slipper. She knew deep down that something bad would happen if her stepmother found out that she hadn't just gone to the ball, but had danced with the prince.

Ah, the prince.

Not even in her wildest dreams would the young girl imagined that the boy she had met in the forest, and who had been meeting her at the same place at the same time ever since, was actually the prince, the future king, of the kingdom where she lived.

Kento had always been polite and kind to her, always willing to listen and talk about anything. He was already the man of every girl's dreams, and now that she knew his status, it had only been confirmed ⸻ but Y/n didn't want him because of his status

However, apparently he would only remain in her dreams...

The next day, Y/n went back to her routine as if the night before had never happened. She woke up early, prepared the food, took care of the animals in the stable, cleaned the house... Nothing was different, except for her memories and the hidden crystal slipper.

When her step-sisters finally gave her a break and spared her from hearing about the men who had danced at the ball and how a young girl in a blue dress had dared to go straight to the prince after setting foot in the ballroom, Y/n headed for the attic.

In the afternoon, she would go to the forest as usual to meet Kento. The young woman wasn't sure if he would show up that afternoon, but she hoped with all her heart that he would be waiting for her among the trees. As he always did.

As soon as she opened the door to her room, the young woman noticed that some floors were out of place, and when she noticed that her memory box was out of its hiding place, her heart began to beat fast and her palms began to sweat with nervousness.

"Is this what you were looking for?" Tremaine's voice startled Y/n, but her fear was soon replaced by surprise when she saw the slipper in her hand. "Oh dear, don't look so scared. I'm only going to ask you once. From whom did you steal it?"

"I didn't steal it from anyone, it was given to me!"

"Given to you? Oh, for heaven's sake, nothing is ever given, especially to someone like you!"

"I swear it was a gift!"

"So you're going to insist on the lie?" Tremaine let out a bored sigh and walked to the attic exit, tapping Y/n on the shoulder on the way, "Good thing you'll have plenty of time to think... Oh oops!" The woman slammed the crystal slipper into the door frame, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

Y/n's eyes filled with tears as she saw the shattered shoe on the floor, barely noticing Tremaine lock the door. The young woman knelt down and picked up each shard, feeling the tears blur her vision. The first gift she had received after so many years was broken and there was nothing that could fix it. Now only the memories remained.

Y/n sighed, wiped the tears from her eyes with her hands and sat down by the window. She had nowhere else to go, she wouldn't be meeting with Kento like she used to. The only thing she had left were her animal friends to keep her company.

Not long after, the door to the attic was opened, frightening the young woman ⸻ she swore that Tremaine would lock her in there for days, or perhaps just until the next day. But she was soon surprised to see a palace guard instead of her stepmother.

"Miss, please come with me.”

Without saying a word, Y/n followed him down the stairs to the living room. When she reached the living room, she noticed a figure she knew well. His clothes were in perfect condition, with no wrinkles or stains, his blond hair was perfectly styled with not a single strand out of place, and his posture was upright and impeccable. There was no doubt that Nanami Kento was a perfect prince.

"Your Royal Highness," Y/n said, bowing.

"I thought we agreed to treat each other without formalities, Y/n." Nanami turned, his serious expression relaxing slightly as he met the bright eyes of the young woman before him.

"Forgive me." Y/n murmured shyly.

"When you ran away during the ball and didn't show up in the forest as usual, I thought maybe I had disappointed you by revealing my true identity as the prince. I thought maybe I should give you some space, but I couldn't. Your name is engraved on my heart, and you are the only thing that crosses my mind every moment I breathe in and out. Every day I looked forward to seeing you for even a few seconds in the forest, and when you didn't show up today, I felt like my world was about to fall apart. I looked for you all over the kingdom, I went from house to house looking for the owner of the lost crystal slipper, I went to the edge of the forest looking for you. I love you, most ardently. I'm yours with or without the crown". Nanami approached Y/n and held her hand to his chest, making the young woman feel his heart beat faster.

"But Nanami, I'm just a simple farmer's girl, and as much as my heart wants to throw myself into your arms and give myself completely, I don't know if I'm suited for such a responsibility."

"A wise woman once told me that we must rule our own hearts. Please come with me and I will be yours forever.”

"Eternally mine? That doesn't sound so bad..." Y/n murmured, her heartbeat calming down to a feeling that was too good to be true.

"So, what do you say?" Kento smiled slightly.

"I'll be yours, any way you want.”

Then Nanami, overcome by the heat of the moment, passionately kissed the woman of his dreams. The kiss was calm, there was no need to rush, it was tender and addictive.

Y/n smiled as they moved away from each other and felt Kento place something in her hand. The young woman looked down at her hand, noticing the missing pair of her crystal shoes.

"You... you found them," she looked at the shoe in her hands, "I don't have the other pair."

"I can have a thousand crystal shoes made if you want." Nanami said with a serious face, showing that he wasn't joking.

"That won't be necessary." Y/n laughed at his lover's expression. "It's just a reminder that that magical night wasn't just a nice dream."

Kento smiled slightly and hugged Y/n tightly. Finally, after a long time, the girl he had always dreamed of, the girl who had always made his heart race, she would finally be by his side forever, there would be no need for him to run off into the forest, because she would already be within reach.

© SEONGHRTZ, 2024ㅤ⸻ㅤall rights reserved. please do not copy / steal / translate / modify any of my works !

[dreamerschroniclesofstories]

Clementina pt1

A/N: hello! This is my first fic and hopefully you enjoy it. It was originally just a one shot fanfic but I didn’t realise how long it was going to be so I’m thinking it will be at least two parts but if you want it be a full series of how the Shelby’s adjust to clementina then just let me know! And if you already gathered, this is based after the scene in season 5 ep3 when Tommy and Polly visit the nuns at st Hilda’s. Hope you enjoy!. I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR YOU TO REPOST THIS ON OTHER WEBSITES AND TRANSLATION OF THIS FIC.

Summery: the Shelby family are in for a shock when they find out they have a sister hiding in plain sight. pt2: pt3: pt4

Word count: 1,567

The early sunrise fills the Shelby manor, the home of Thomas Shelby and his son is strangely quiet considering it is nearing six am on a Saturday. Commonly, the maids would have Charlie up and having his breakfast by now. however, the only noise filling the silence was the ticking of the small clock on the wall behind Tommy's desk in his office. Inside the office, sat Tommy and his aunt, Polly. accompanying the pair were five piles of old folders sitting on Tommy's desk and on the floor beside Polly's discarded handbag, which she placed there no less than seven hours ago. these folders currently hold the information of the young girls who resided in St Hilda's orphanage.

Two days prior, the aunt and nephew visited the nun-owned orphanage after Tommy had received a concerning report, from a young girl who recently left the care of St Hilda's after turning 18, about abuse that was occurring within the walls of the orphanage. after the rushed meeting, Tommy stopped the funding he was providing and Polly requested the folders of every girl in their care so they could place them into new orphanages ran by the Grace Shelby foundation. Tommy and Polly didn't expect was the folders arriving two hours before midnight and there to be nearly three hundred folders. they knew the orphanage was overrun but not that much. For the past seven hours, the pair had been reading and placing the folders into different piles for the different orphanages that they were going to place the girls in. Most of them were in Birmingham but the occasional one was in London or Manchester.

They were getting close to finishing, having only a handful left to read. this allowed Tommy to have another smoke break. he stood by the double-glazed windows, staring out to the fields watching as his horses walked around slowly and ate freshly cut grass. the room was still quiet, except for the reoccurring sound of Tommy blowing out smoke and inhaling every few seconds. However, the sound of Polly gasping under her breath catches Tom's attention, making him turn around, “Thomas” the middle-aged woman whispered, “You need to see this” she states, her voice full of shock.

Tommy frowns as he walks back towards his desk, “ what is it, ey?” he questions curiously, the newly light cigarette hangs from between his lips.

“Just read it Thomas” she sighs, Polly begins to bite her nails. a habit she does when she is stressed. Tommy opens the folder and begins to read the information, which was written in a hurry because the handwriting was messier than the others.

Tommy was confused at Polly's reaction, to him this was just another folder detailing information about an unwanted little girl placed into the orphanage five years ago. that was until he read the section about her parent....he slams the folder down on his desk and puts his cigarette out into his ashtray, he rubs his hand down his face, a sign he was stressed “ fucking hell” he grumbles, staring at the folder.

“ fucking hell indeed” Polly agrees, watching her nephew across from her “It seems you have a kid sister, out there Thomas” She shakes her head in disbelief, she knew Arthur Shelby Sr was known to sleep around but she did not expect to have another Shelby stuck in this world because of him. Polly grabs the folder again and begins to re-read it.“ another fucking Shelby” Polly chuckles under her breath, Tommy was quiet as he thinks about what they should do. he knew that it wasn't a good idea to bring her into the world of crime that the family were involved in but he knew Polly wouldn't let him leave her in the care of an orphanage.

Tommy suddenly stands up, grabbing his jacket “Pol, ring around, tell everyone to be here in three hours” he demands, walking out of the office not telling Polly where he was going and he didn't give her the time to ask either because he was out of the house and into his car in the record time of three minutes.

By the time everyone was around the Shelby manor, Tommy was back from wherever he left. He walks into his office. Polly was sitting on the chair was was sitting on earlier, Ada was sitting on the leather seat by the bookshelf with Karl standing beside her. Arthur was standing by the windows with Finn beside him. They were all waiting impatiently for him

“ thank fuck for that, thought you'd never turn up” Arthur states annoyedly. His hands are in his pockets.

Ada rolls her eyes at Arthur’s language “What’s the emergency that made you wake me and Karl up at six in the morning?” She questions Tommy.

Tommy walks over to his desk, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket “Me and Pol have been sorting through the orphan girls' files” he explains, sitting down at his desk.

Finn frowns “And what’s that got to do with any of us?” No one answers him, he was allowed to come to meetings but he isn’t allowed to contribute to them

Tommy lights his cigarette and inhales then exhales smoke before he begins to talk again “There’s a girl, who might be of interest to us” he looks towards Polly.

Polly smiles slightly “Her names clementine, nine years old” she explains, looking around at the Shelby siblings.

Ada shakes her head “Why would a little girl be of interest to you Thomas” She narrows her eyes slightly, feeling suspicious of Tommy.

Tommy rolls his eyes slightly and leans back into his chair “Her mother died when she was four, she was left with her drunken father, who lasted three months before he dropped her off at St Hilda’s” he repeated what he read in the file, three hours prior.

Pol sighs “ for god's sake Thomas, just tell them” she demands irritated, she sits up straight “Her fathers name is Arthur Shelby sr” she announces. The atmosphere in the office quickly changed, you could hear a pin drop from how quiet it became. Arthur coughs and runs his hand through his hair, confused as fuck as to what was happening.

Ada stands up and walks closer to Tommy's desk “We have a sister? And she’s still in that orphanage after what you found out” she states, taking the folder from Tommy's hand as soon as he takes it out of the drawer in his desk. She shakes her head and walks back over to her seat.

Tommy pours himself a glass of whiskey “Me, Arthur and Polly are going back to the orphanage to get her” he explains.

Arthur frowns “We are? Linda wants me back for dinner” he explains, shifting from his left foot to his right foot, his body language showing he was nervous since he knew what his family thought of Linda.

Polly grumbles “ I’m sure she can wait” she states, her voice filled with venom as she looks towards Arthur “We are saving a little girl from abuse” She stands up and walks over to Arthur “Not just a little girl, your sister, a Shelby”.

[flowersandbigteeth]

Hey sorry if this isn't your sorta thing but could I request a dragon that collects humans with special magic powers falling for reader?

I love this idea! Sorry it took me so long to get to this ^_^'

Dragon (Felix) x female reader

Word Count: 3k

W: yandere dragon behavior , some threats of violence, sfw fluff

Felix had dedicated his life to hunting the most miraculous humans, the most beautiful, the most powerful, the strongest, and the most magically inclined. He was fascinated with what made them tick. Humans shouldn’t naturally have magic. In his personal opinion, it was a bit of an abomination actually. Humans were meant to be servile, toiling around in the dirt with no wings or fins or fangs to protect them. That they should be dominated seemed to simply be the nature of things and he had no intention of fussing with that. 

No, really, what he had was morbid curiosity and perhaps nothing else to do. Dragons' lives were very long and they had few natural enemies. Felix was a scholar at heart and something drew him to collecting. Over the years he’d captured and tamed hundreds of powerful, talented humans. Some cooperated with his experiments and lived in relative luxury in his castle; others had far too much pride, in his opinion, and had to be locked away for everyone’s safety. 

Each one was more miraculous than the next. One man could draw fire from his hands like a fire fairy, but tests revealed he had no fire fairy blood in him. Another person could screech so loud they could break glass. Their vocal chords were fascinating to study. It seemed to be a totally natural phenomenon. 

Still, after years and years of collecting he hadn’t found…perhaps the human he was looking for? Something still drew him to scouring the planet looking for…something. So naturally, he was quite surprised when he found you simpering and sniffling in a corner of his castle with tears on your face. You were just a maid. You had no special magic, you weren’t exceptionally beautiful, and your biggest talent was that you could make a boiled egg better than any of the other kitchen staff. It came out perfect every time with your technique, but that was it. 

“Why are you crying little one?” he asked, perhaps because he was bored. Otherwise he would have probably walked right past you. He’d never noticed you before, though you’d worked in the kitchen peeling potatoes and boiling eggs for a few years. He’d had your famous boiled egg for breakfast every day for a long time without even knowing who cooked it. 

You lived in a small cottage near the castle and came to work in the kitchen every day from sunrise until everyone had their last meal. Then you hurried home to the safety and comfort of your old hay mattress. 

Our eyes filled with terror when you realised the master of the castle was talking to you and you quickly righted yourself, trying to rub the soup one of his talented humans had dumped on your head off of your face. 

“I-it’s n-nothing my lord,” you stammered, trying to slip past his huge form. 

He was just scraping nine feet tall, not including the silver horns emerging from his head. You tried not to let your eyes linger on the glittering scales that clung just above his cheekbones and along his jaw or his silver eyes. 

“Stop right there,” he said, grabbing your shoulder with his big hand and swinging you back around to face him, “answer honestly when your master asks you a question.” 

You blushed, unsure what to say. You didn’t want to tattle on Mira, the talented human who’d waited too long to eat her soup and threw a tantrum when it was cold hours after you’d delivered it. She was far more important and interesting than you, despite her temper. She could lift objects with her mind. You could boil an egg. You were not the same. 

“I need to get Miss Mira more soup,” you decided to say, ignoring the glob of meat that wetly slid out of your hair and smacked on the floor with a splat. 

“I-I’ll clean that up, right away,” you assured him, bending to wipe up the mess you were making with your apron. 

The dragon frowned looking you up and down and tapping his chin. There was something about you that he liked. He wasn’t exactly sure what. You certainly weren’t remarkable and you looked a mess covered in red soup with bits of vegetables and meat in your hair. Regardless, he was curious about you. 

“Do you have running water at home?” he asked. 

You blinked and looked up at him for a moment, before catching yourself and looking back down to the soupy footprints you were trying to mop up. 

“Erm…no my lord, only the castle and the merchant’s manors have piped water,” you explained. 

You were not looking forward to hauling bucket after bucket of cold water to your bath to wash all of the food out of your hair when you got home. Only the rich could afford the metal pipes and enchantments that would bring warm water indoors. 

He grunted down at you.

“Come with me,” he said simply, turning on his heels and marching down the hall. 

You didn’t know what else to do, he was your boss, so you shuffled after him. 

“My lord, perhaps I should get another maid to help you,” you said apprehensively as he led you into his personal quarters and bathroom. You hovered uncomfortably at the door, wondering what he wanted you to clean while covered in soup. You were making an even bigger mess wandering around the castle dripping wet. 

“Don’t move an inch,” he said over his shoulder as he started the tap. 

You started to tremble, unsure what was going on. This was highly unusual, working in the kitchen you hardly ever saw the master. Nothing good could come of him bringing you to his personal quarters. You had no romantic illusions about some noble lord taking an interest in you. You’d seen maid after maid chewed up by the male talents Lord Felix had in the castle. They went through them and then tossed them away like toys, leaving them penniless, without a job, and heartbroken. All you wanted to do was come to work, do your work, and go home without being molested or covered in soup. 

You watched him pour a sweet smelling soap into the water that reminded you of the scent of peaches and made lots of bubbles. 

“Go ahead and undress,” he said, as he sprinkled some kind of salt as well. 

“No, my lord,” you said with fleeting confidence. 

You were an employee, not a toy. 

He turned to you and his eyebrows went up. He was handsome and very large, all things that were attractive to you, but you had some shame. 

“No?” he repeated, scoffing. 

“I don’t feel comfortable…” you said, your confidence waning. 

“You’d rather spend the day covered in stew?” he asked. 

You plucked a thread at your dress. 

“No, my lord, but…” 

He snickered at you as he crossed the room, looming over you and yanking the wool dress you were wearing over your head before you had a chance to fight him. 

“How do you plan on stopping me?” he teased you as he pulled the chaste white panties you were wearing off and removing the bra you had on. 

He wasn’t rough with you, but he also didn’t hide his strength, pinning you easily with one hand while the other worked on removing your clothes. 

“My lord!” you sputtered, “this isn’t fair!” 

He shrugged as he picked you up like you were just a kitten and carried you over to the bath water. 

“It really isn’t,” he agreed as he gently set you in it, “but such is the way of the world.” 

To your dismay he unceremoniously dumped a pitcher of warm clean water on your head so instead of fighting him you were busy wiping water out of your eyes. 

“That’s better isn’t it?” he asked drizzling a swirl of shampoo in your hair. 

This was probably the first time in your life you’d been fully immersed in warm water except maybe when you were an infant and the sensation was hard to pass up. It was warmer than you could ever get your water at home with just hot rocks heated in the fireplace and your skin felt smooth and soft from the salts he’d added. 

If you wanted to argue, you didn’t have a chance, because he was quickly scrubbing his large, strong fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp.

“Mmmm,” you hummed reflexively and he smiled, gathering a comb up to run it through your hair and remove all of the bits of vegetable matter. 

“So have I softened you up enough to tell me what happened?” he asked, as you let your eyes shut, leaning back against the smooth back of the tub. 

You tender bits were all covered in piles of bubbles, which eased your shyness. 

“Miss Mira just has a bit of a temper,” you mumbled in total bliss, the gentle scrape of the blunt comb on your skull relaxing and soothing years of built up tension, “nothing to be concerned with, my lord.” 

He chuckled at how a simple bath relaxed you and loosened your tongue, reminding himself to deal with Mira later. He didn’t tolerate badly behaved humans under his care, especially now that he’d taken an interest in you. No one would be dumping any food on you again under his watch. When he’d gotten you satisfactorily clean he pulled you from the tub and wrapped you in a fluffy towel, ringing the bell for another maid. When she arrived her eyes widened as she saw the condition you were in, shooting you a questioning look when Felix wasn’t looking. You shot back at her with a shrug and a pleading look indicating you had no idea what was going on either and begging her to do something, though neither of you had any idea what she could possibly do to save you. 

“Bring…” he glanced down at you to get your name but you kept your mouth shut tight. 

Frightened of angering the lord and to your dismay the other maid gave him your name quickly. He smiled. 

“Bring (Y/N) another dress, something pretty,” he said. 

“Yes, my lord,” she replied, tossing you an apologetic glance before she disappeared. 

“Now,” he mused, looking back at you with his finger tapping his chin, “there’s something about you…”

He lifted a lock of your hair, before smoothing his clawed fingers over the column of your neck. 

“You seem to be a normal human,” he murmured, “but I can’t seem to keep my eyes off of you…even for a moment, they are always drawn back to you…do you know why that is (Y/N)?” 

You quickly shook your head because you really had no idea. He picked you up and you stiffened in his arms as he carried you to his laboratory. Terrified, you tried to fight him when your eyes grazed over the bottled body parts he had lining his shelves. Of course it was hopeless, he was far too big and strong. 

“Don’t be so worried, little one,” he chuckled, “I have no intention of dissecting you. I’m only going to run a few tests.” 

He set you on his work table before producing what looked like a doctor’s kit. While you shivered in terror, odd drops of water dripping from your hair down your neck, he took some of your blood and tapped various pressure points with some kind of tool to stimulate your reflexes. 

You watched him hum and wrinkle his brow as he tried to sort out what made you so special, examining your blood sample under a microscope only to find your cells were perfectly average human cells. 

“I assure you, my lord, I’m just a normal human. There really is nothing unique about me,” you said when you’d calmed down enough to catch your breath. 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he informed you curtly and you shrank back. 

There was a knock at the door and the maid appeared with a dress in your size. He took the dress, waving her away and carefully pulled it over your head, letting you slide your arms through the sleeves. To your surprise he very adeptly braided your hair and secured it with a pin.

“Follow me,” he said, pulling you down off of the high counter you were sitting on, onto the floor. 

He took you to the male’s quarters and with a shout gathered all of the male special humans from whatever they were occupying themselves with. 

“What do you think of this human?” he asked them, pointing to you. 

Most of them looked bored, while a few looked a bit interested. 

“She’s just a pretty girl,” one of them said. 

“Not that pretty,” another commented. 

“Yeah, she’s not really my type,” someone else said. 

“I think she’s pretty, in a sort of farm girl type of way…” someone piped in. 

“Hmm,” Felix said, pushing you behind him and considering the data he’d collected. 

For some reason, he didn’t like these males looking at you, assessing your attributes, even though that’s what he’d asked them to do. 

He led you back to his laboratory more confused than before. The males of the castle seemed to think you were a normal human. You didn’t have any sort of excessive seductive powers. So why did his heart flutter when his eyes met yours? Why were his hands sweating like he was just a schoolboy? While the other men seemed relatively ambivalent, when he looked at you, your skin seemed to glow and your smile made him want to press his lips against yours. 

“My lord, don’t you think I should get back to work?” you asked, hoping his curiosity was satisfied and he would let you go. 

“No,” he said, “you’re not to leave my side. I’m adding you to my collection.” 

You gasped. You did not want to be one of your master’s collection. You were a maid, an employee, not a doll! You didn’t know what else to do, so you ran…or at least tried to run, but you only got a few steps before he hauled you back to him. 

He pulled you up to his eye level and glared at you with his reptilian, golden eyes. 

“Do NOT do that again,” he snarled, curls of smoke leaking from his nose. 

The idea of you running away from him was infuriating. You were his. He was sure of it. 

“I don’t know what it is about you, but you will not get away from me. Try to run again and I will remove your legs,” he snapped. 

You nodded your head quickly, trembling in his arms. 

Pleased that you understood, he led you to the other side of the castle to find Mira. 

“Oh, hello Master Felix,” she cooed when he entered her room, batting her eyelashes at him, “I’m so pleased you’ve come to see me.” 

Her eyes focused on you in your fine dress and she frowned. 

“What’s she doing here, bringing me more cold soup?” 

Felix snorted and a small flame burst from his nose. 

“I’ve found a new use for your talents, Mira,” he informed her, “from now on you will work in the laundry washing linens…I think your skills can be useful to the other maids.”

He rang the bell in her room and a different maid appeared, her eyes popping at your dress. You gave her another confused shrug, before she had to turn her attention to your Master. 

“Bring Mira a maid’s uniform,” he spat and she hurried away. 

“You can’t be serious!” Mira shouted, various items in her room levitating around her, “I’m not a maid! I’m special!” 

“(Y/N) is special,” he said, glancing down at you, then back up at her, “you are nothing more than a biological anomaly that apparently needs to be put to more productive use.” 

While Mira shot daggers at you with her eyes, you tried to return her look with the most contrite, sympathetic face possible, but that didn’t stop the shower of hair brushes, hair pins, and makeup that came sailing in your direction with murderous intent. 

With a wave of his hand the sundry items dropped to the floor with a clatter, just before they reached you. 

“Try that again and you’ll be dissected and pickled,” Felix growled. 

Mira blanched and the maid returned with one of the plain wool dresses you used to wear. 

“Change and report to the laundry, the other maids will tell you what to do…if I see your face out of the laundry again there will be consequences,” he hissed, scooping you up like you were a treasure and carrying you from the room. 

You blinked up at Felix, feeling bad for Mira. You were an employee, you had the ability to go home, but Mira was a captive…and now a servant. 

“My lord,” you gasped, “are you sure you’re not being too harsh? I’m really nothing special…” 

His eyes sparkled and he chuckled at you. 

“That’s where you are wrong, my darling,” he said, “I think you are the human I’ve been looking for.” 

“Looking for?” you murmured. 

“Since I started this project of collecting humans I could never find the one that would sate my hunger for searching…but with you in my arms…I seem to have lost the desire to collect them at all…I would rather spend my time studying you.” 

You blinked at him and swallowed thickly. 

“I am not a doll…or a biological anomaly or whatever you said,” you pouted, using your last bit of pluck. 

He turned your face to him and his golden eyes searched yours. 

“That you are not,” he admitted with a smile that revealed his sharp teeth, “but you are still mine and I have no intention of letting you go. From now on you will be my companion.” 

You blanched. His companion? You weren’t sure you liked the sound of that, but there was nothing to be done about it if you wanted to keep your legs attached to your body. 

“Now,” he said with a sigh, smoothing his fingers over your soft cheek, “let’s have a nice day, shall we? No more silly attempts to escape and no more bowls of soup on your head, hmm?” 

Your heart fluttered a bit, you were unsure if it was from fear or interest, but you accepted his words with a nod as he carried you off to the garden to enjoy the sunshine and your new life.

[milfsloverblog]

Green-Eyed Monster (NSFW)

Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

A/N: This is a request that I got a long while ago, something about Jane and some drama/smut. I apologise to whoever sent the request, I can’t find it in my inbox anymore. I started writing this fic so long ago, all the wips in my notes cheered when I typed in the last word. As always, Jane is the reddest redflag. Enjoy!<3

AO3 link in title

You loved Alice, you loved the way she always found a way to make you laugh. When she joined the staff at the Murdstone mansion, you immediately knew you two would be good friends.

Oh yes, you loved Alice. But not like you loved your Lady. Not like you loved Jane.

Loving Jane was like sitting in the sun after a long day of hard work. It warmed your heart and soul, making you feel incredibly alive.

Jane, on the other hand, had thought of a thousand ways to get rid of Alice. Going from simply firing her and making sure she’d never find work again all the way to wrapping her strong hands around the maid’s frail neck and squeezing until it snapped.

She would never, of course. But she was thinking about it. The thought of Alice being overly friendly and so close to you made it really hard for Jane to work through her feelings of homicidal rage.

It wasn’t fair. It was not fair that this silly little thing was allowed to spend her days by your side, making you laugh at her idiotic jokes while Jane could only spend a couple of hours with you late at night when the whole household was already asleep.

“She is being overly friendly to you, and I do not like it.” Jane groaned as you pulled the pins out of her hair.

“There is nothing more than friendship between Alice and me, Jane, you know that.” You reassured your lover, placing a soft kiss on her freckled shoulder.

“To you, perhaps! I see the way she is always trying to touch you, squeezing your shoulder as she walks by or holding onto your arm when she delivers one of her idiotic jokes. Has she never been told that we must not touch what is not ours?” The tall woman huffed, getting more agitated by the second. That silly little maid gave her murderous thoughts.

“I don’t think Alice sees me as anything more than a good friend, and even if she does…I’m yours.” You whispered, brushing your fingers through Jane’s raven locks and gently massaging her scalp.

Jane’s shoulders visibly relaxed and you pushed a soft smile, locking eyes with your lover in the mirror.

“I’m afraid I can not stay with you tonight, Jane. Mister Murdstone has asked me to be up at sunrise to run some errands, and I could use the sleep.” You gave the tall woman an apologetic smile, feeling her shoulders tense once more. You would have loved to spend the night with Jane but you barely got any sleep when you did, the two of you usually too busy making love to each other.

“Right.” She spat out, her lips pressed in a thin line. “Go back to the servant’s quarter, I bet you are craving to get back to your Alice.”

“Jane,” You tutted. “You are being rude, my love. There is nothing I want more than to spend the night in your arms, but I can’t. Not tonight.”

Jane huffed loudly, crossing her arms against her chest and refusing to look at you.

“Fine, sulk if you want.” You kissed the top of the woman’s head and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Sleep well, Jane.” You said, taking a last look at her reflection in the mirror before leaving the bedroom.

But Jane didn’t sleep well. She barely slept at all, her mind filled with thoughts of Alice’s hands on your body. It was unbearable, so much so that Jane came up with a plan. She needed that stupid girl to understand that you were hers, and she would make sure of it.

-

You had not expected Mister Murdstone’s errands to be taking so long to run. You had been gone from the house since sunrise and only came back around tea time, letting a sigh of relief out as you placed the heavy baskets you were carrying down. Food, clothing, newspapers, it was as if Edward Murdstone had decided that everything that could be fetched from town needed to be fetched that day.

You had barely stepped into the servant’s quarter when two hands wrapped around your waist and spun you around.

“I thought you would never be back! Thought you had run away for good!” Alice’s lips spread in a wide smile, making you laugh.

“Sure, and to go where, mm?” You shook your head. “Those errands he makes us run, they get worse every single time.”

“I know. I think he enjoys exhausting us as much as he possibly can.” Alice nodded. “Oh, Miss Murdstone has asked for me to take care of her tonight.”

Your body froze for a second and you had to take a deep breath before acting unfazed. You were about to ask for more details when a bell rang in the quarter, signalling that the Lady of the house was ready for her afternoon tea.

“Let me take care of it.” You pushed a smile and disappeared into the kitchen, quickly putting the kettle on.

A few minutes later you stepped into the study where Jane was sitting with her embroidery.

“My Lady,” You nodded, placing the tray on the table right next to her.

The tall woman barely acknowledged you as she placed her embroidery on the side and poured herself a cup of tea.

“I was made aware that you requested Alice to assist you tonight. Is my presence no longer required, my Lady?”

Jane’s eyes snapped to your face and you hoped she understood the hidden meaning behind your words. Do you not love me anymore?

“Were you made aware that your presence was no longer required?” The woman asked, her eyes slightly narrowing.

“No, my Lady.”

“Good. You shall be in my bedroom at seven sharp, as usual.” She said before taking a sip of tea and shooing you out of the room.

-

You knocked on the bedroom door at seven sharp, pushing it open and making your way inside only to find that Alice was already there.

“Good. Well, now that everyone is here…Sit.” Jane told Alice, pointing at the chair in the corner of the room. “Can’t you follow a simple order?! Sit!” She hissed when the maid didn’t obey fast enough.

Alice quickly walked to the chair and sat down, eyes wide in fear of what would happen to her next.

You stood still in the middle of the room as Jane circled you, feeling like a prey being hunted and played with by a predator.

“You see, Alice, you have gotten awfully close to something that belongs to me.” Jane said as she came to a stop behind you. You felt her tug at the knot on your apron before she took it off, letting it fall to the ground.

Alice watched in horror as Jane’s hands traveled to your front, groping your breasts through your dress before she moved to unbutton it.

“Did you know our little lady’s maid here loves to forgo underwear?” Jane smirked, watching Alice’s cheeks turn crimson as she opened your unbuttoned shirt to reveal your bare breasts. “Would you like to know how I know that?” The woman asked, placing an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. “I told her to.” She grinned and peeled your shirt from your body, letting in join your apron on the floor.

Alice tried hard not to let her eyes roam on your bare flesh, but she was unable to stop herself which only fuelled Jane’s anger.

“I told you she was interested in more than friendship.” Jane hissed in your ear, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin and your nipples to harden.

“M-Miss Murdstone-“ Alice said barely audibly. “I don’t think I should be here.”

“Quiet!” Jane barked. “Don’t you dare move from that chair or I will have you fired by tomorrow morning.”

“Jane…” You sighed and felt the woman’s fingers grab a handful of your hair before giving it a harsh tug, tilting your head so you’d look at her.

“Oh no,” She smirked. “Tonight you will address me either as Miss Murdstone or my Lady.”

She wouldn’t play nice tonight, then.

“Yes, my Lady.” You whispered, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

Jane almost considered indulging you, she almost pressed a kiss to your lips but quickly changed her mind. This wasn’t about your or her pleasure, it was about teaching Alice a good lesson.

“Take your skirt off.” Jane ordered, letting her hands roam on your stomach for a second before pulling away. “I doubt you are wearing anything underneath it but if you are, take those off as well.”

A deep blush crept up your chest as you pulled your skirt down and stepped out of it, revealing that you were, in fact, not wearing anything underneath it. A low chuckle came from Jane’s throat and you waited, eyes closed, for the next order when you felt her lips on your shoulder and hands on your waist, her short fingernails digging into your flesh.

“Spread your legs.” She hummed near your ear and you obeyed without a second thought, your body shuddering when one of her hands snaked from your waist to your bush, resting there for a few seconds before she finally pushed two of her fingers between your folds.

“Well, well,” Jane tutted, pulling her fingers away from you and lifting them to show off the wetness that glistened on them. “Do you like having an audience?” She smirked, her eyes locking with Alice’s as she pushed her digits into her mouth and licked them clean.

The heat coursing through your body felt unbearable, a mix of both shame and arousal that made you feel dizzy.

“Yes, my Lady.” You admitted, whining when Jane’s fingers found their way back between your legs.

“You see, Alice,” Jane looked at the girl on the chair. “This one might act like a prude around you, but she is a filthy whore.” She chuckled lowly, her other hand moving to grab one of your breasts.

Jane expertly flicked her thumb on your nipple before giving it a sharp tweak, making you cry out as your sopping wet cunt clenched around nothing.

“Careful, we wouldn’t want the whole household to know you let your Lady have you.”

Jane didn’t let you answer, choosing instead to slip her fingers deep inside you and relishing in the guttural moan that tore itself from your mouth. She let her fingers commence their skillful ballet, pulling them out of you almost entirely only to push them back in up to the hilt.

It didn’t take long for you to turn into a mess, grinding down on Jane’s fingers as she crooked them to press against the soft, spongy spot that sent lighting shooting up your spine.

Your sinful moans mixing with the wet sounds coming from between your legs only spurred Jane on, her blue eyes fixed on the maid sitting in the corner of the room with her mouth wide open.

“Why don’t you tell your little friend who you belong to, mm?” Jane’s voice echoed in your mind.

“You! Y-yours, I’m yours!” You cried out. “All yours, my Lady!”

“Mine.” Jane snarled looking at Alice, hoping the message was clear.

Her free hand joined the busy one between your legs to circle your clit as she relentlessly pounded into you and could hear yourself begging from a distance - please, please, I can not hold back anymore. It felt like an eternity before Jane finally allowed you to cum, your cunt instantly clenching around her fingers as you were pushed over the edge.

The tall woman kept pumping in and out of you for a moment until she decided that you had had enough and pulled her fingers out, giving your core a harsh slap. You fell to your knees, your body still shaking from the intensity of your orgasm, and struggled to catch your breath.

Eventually, you turned around and looked up at Jane who was now standing tall in front of you. You grabbed a handful of her black dress to steady yourself and buried your face into the soft fabric.

“Thank you, Miss Murdstone.” You managed to say with your shaky voice, making the tall woman smirk proudly.

Jane pulled away from you, snatching her dress from your hands before walking towards Alice who was still transfixed by the whole scene. She roughly grabbed the maid’s face with one hand, forcing the girl to look up at her.

“Don’t you dare say a word about what happened here tonight.” She snarled. “No one would believe you. Now get out!”

Alice didn’t have to be told twice. The young woman was on her feet in a second and scurried out of the room as quickly as she could.

“Did you have to be so harsh?” You croaked as you slowly got back on your feet, watching Jane closing the bedroom door that Alice had left open.

“Which other choice did I have?” Jane said, pressing a soft kiss on your lips before moving to sit down at her dressing table. “She needed to be taught a lesson. You are mine, and she mustn’t mess with another woman’s belongings.”

“Yes, my Lady,” You chuckled softly as you started taking the pins off Jane’s hair. “I’m yours.”

-

You weren’t really surprised the next day when entering the servant’s quarters, you heard one of the maids gossiping with the butler about how Alice had been fired by Mister Murdstone at sunrise.

It did pinch your heart a little to know you had lost a friend, but Jane was right, Alice had to learn the lesson. One mustn’t mess with another woman’s belongings, certainly not Jane Murdstone’s.

————————————————————————

tag list: @weemssapphic @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09 @readingtheentrails @catechristiesstuff @kimiinou @winterfireblond @im-a-carnivorous-plant

[midnightstar16]

Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Chamber Maid)

Word count: 1.2k

You had just been appointed as the chamber maid of prince Aemond. The red keep was almost always short of staff so it had not been that big of a deal to anyone but you. You hadn’t really been working long enough to be qualified as a chamber maid so at first, it came as a bit of a shock.

To your delight, being Aemond’s chamber maid didn’t require you to interact with the prince himself. At dawn, he would leave for his morning drills with Ser Criston and you’d quickly finish your work then and leave. There was never much to do in his chambers for he kept them quite organised and in place. So, in order to keep you busy, you would be assigned to look after princess Helaena’s children.

You quickly bonded with them and they too, grew fond of you. You would take them to the palace gardens or play with them in princess Helaena’s rooms and more often than not, you would find the one-eyed prince present. You’d heard uncountable stories of him, most of them about how hideous he was, how no girl in court would ever be interested him. But when you first laid eyes on him in the gardens, you realised that all those people couldn’t have been more wrong and you would catch yourself stealing glances at him whenever you could. Sometimes he’d return the eye-contact and you would quickly look away in embarrassment.

Only after two weeks of cleaning Aemond’s chambers every day, you dared to pick up a candlestick and hold it against the wall of books that was there near the prince’s bed. Each shelf was divided by genre and each book laid out alphabetically. Even though you were of low status, you’d learned how to read as a child and never stopped since.

You knew the red keep had a library but it was available to few. To have found such a treasure at hand seemed like a gift of the gods. You quickly took out a book from the bottom shelf where you hoped he wouldn’t notice. It was small enough to fit in your pocket. With your heart beating against your chest, you rushed out.

When the prince entered his chambers after sunrise, he had almost instantly seen a book missing from his collections but when he saw that it had returned to its exact place 2 days later, Aemond knew it had been you. He had been made aware of his new chambermaid that he would often find stealing glances at him whenever she was assigned to look after his sister’s kids. You didn’t look at him the way others did, with horror and disgust but with a certain awe that Aemond quickly fell for. He would start finding excuses to be near the little Targaryens, to be near you. He loved the way you would look away, your cheeks turning red, the way you would laugh and smile, the way you kept your hair in a messy braid.

Once you were sure that the prince wasn’t seeing one of his books missing, you started taking more of them right after finishing the one before. You were always more than careful with the books, treating them as if they were worth more than the most expensive diamonds in Westeros and always made sure to keep them right back.

As more days passed by, you started getting more comfortable with your new life. You were starting to like it but you knew you could never actually ever approach prince Aemond with your growing feelings for him, and it hurt like a knife in the heart.

2 months had gone by and your life was going by smoothly. You followed your morning routine and entered Aemond’s chambers to quickly change the sheets and finish up with a bit of light dusting. But just as you would every 2-3 days, you first went to the bookshelf and kept your most recent read back on its place.

You held the candlestick up high and found a book that certainly piqued your interest. You stepped on your tip-toes and tried to reach for it but failed. Each time your hand barely even touched the book. Just as you were about to give up, you saw a hand from behind you take it. For a second your heart stopped for you knew who it was. You could feel his breath on your neck and it raised every strand of hair on your skin. You turned slowly, your back now resting on the bookshelf. You had never seen Aemond so up close and he was perfect. He was wearing a loose white cotton shirt which gave him a much more homely look. It’d seemed as if he had worn his eyepatch in a hurry, as if he was scared about what you would think. You looked into his eye and he in yours and you never wanted this moment to end. But it did, perhaps a lot later than it should have but a lot earlier than you’d preferred.

Ser Criston was out of the capital for some urgent business and Aemond had stayed behind in his chambers that morning. He’d actually been looking forward to seeing you in his chambers where he could talk to you without suspicion. The prince had gone as far as to even keep your favourite foods and drink ready but now that felt like it would be too much.

“My prince, I am so sorry! I never should’ve taken-“ you were cut off abruptly.

“ ‘The Hidden Mysteries of Qarth’,” the prince read out the title, “You have good taste, little thief.” The corners of his lips turned into a small smile. You had expected him to be absolutely furious but perhaps not.

“My prince, I’m no thief. I’ve only ever borrowed your books and I always kept them back in perfect condition. I know it was wrong… but I never stole anything,” You spoke anxiously. If he wasn’t angry before, he’d probably be now, you thought to yourself. But out of all the things you had expected, you hadn’t expected him to laugh. Well, he didn’t laugh but he was grinning and it was amazing. Regardless of the consequences, you would cherish this scene till the end of your days.

“Take it,” he held the book in his hand. You hesitated; what if it was simply a test? What if he was waiting for you to take it and then punish you for taking his books without expecting any consequences? The endless thoughts ran in your head as your eyes went from the book to Aemond’s violet eye but his remained on yours.

“I won’t hurt you,” He spoke in the softest of voices, “Consider it a gift.”

You knew the blood had risen to your cheeks and made you look like a flustered fool. Finally extending your hand, you took the book from the prince, “Thank you, my prince.”

So, it seemed as though he had already known, and that your efforts to remain sly remained only as efforts.

You didn’t see Aemond in his chambers again and you’d stopped taking his books out of guilt and embarrassment but only a few days later you found a new book at your bedside and inside it a note.

It is one of my favourites, tell me what you think

You knew who it was from even though there was no note and couldn’t help but smile and melt.

[controld3vil]

upset much?

PAIRING: AEMOND TARGARYEN X READER SYNOPSIS: you drive your husband mad when you want to go dragon riding. NOTES: - reader's house is not specified - this is all fluff lol! i just wanted a happy moment with the greens :) - btw tysm for the love from my last work! ik its been months since then but i really do appreciate the constant support!

WEARINESS adorned your delicate features upon the break of dawn. The faint beam that brimmed through your pearl curtains to the vivid gold chamber. A gust of wind blows across your bedroom, allowing the blinds to sway mindlessly. On the day of the sunrise, many of the royal family prepare for the following course. Members of Kingsguard stand and patrol the sacred grounds of the quarters you’ve become familiar with. King’s Landing, the palace is known not to stay awake at night despite no festivity. The morrow is lively and occupied by staff members and Council debating politics. 

However, unlike the latter, you have not aroused. Neither the morning dew nor the breeze stirs you awake. Instead, you leisurely heave and twist until you are snug amongst the veils and cushions. Though your drowsiness soon dwindles as the gates to your enclosure are unlatched. A small group of maidens trod inside and presently began to busy themselves. Some started to tend your wardrobe. A few others cleared your vanity and lounge of its cluster. A few paces behind them revealed Princess Helaena in her relaxed green gown. 

You wouldn't be able to see her expression. But you could assume by the pace of her efforts Helaena appeared distressed. Her rushed movements halted when you felt the cushions of your bed flatten a bit. A soft exhale came out of her throat in a moment of ease.

You couldn’t help but snicker under the blankets. Helaena’s kind heart was fickle, often leading to her becoming expressive at times of assertiveness. You emphasized with her. The painful hole in your chest when in the events of tragedy is a natural emotion. However, when you could not wake up from a prior’s day's work, a simple uncertainty provoked your dear sister-in-law to panic - a spiral of disaster on either part of the receiver or contributor.

In your serene eyes, Helaena was a deity not to be trifled with. Her tender heart and caring personality are too endearing to disregard. 

“Fret not sister, I’ve awoken,” you calmly voice to reassure her of your condition. Her pristine silver locks careen across her shoulders as she pivots to glance at you. Her amethyst orbs shimmered in the daylight that had earlier ascended. “I apologize for the delay to breakfast.” 

In response, she soughs childishly. “You startled me!” Another exhale as she mumbles your name. “Mother was worried if you were going to show up.” You could sense enjoyment in her tone as her lips gradually curled into a smile.

“It's too early for breakfast,” you grumble jokingly - turning to face the window. Again you can discern a giggle as Helaena quickly snatches the many layers that cover your figure. The two of you playfully fought back and forth between the sheets while the maids wandered about. Some periodically snickered - others held cheerful grins, marveling at your sweet banter with the Targaryen princess. 

Helaena was your first companion when you first arrived at King's Landing. Her miniature and doll-like features piqued your curiosity. It left you in awe. Moreover, her early infatuation with bugs and insects directed you to the pleasure of her presence. Many of your chats were regarding all types of matters. Her attentiveness aviated endlessly - you performed everything with her. Wherever you stood in the palace, Helaena was beside you. You were conceivably the first and only female friend she had in King’s Landing.

“It's past seven, silly!” she giggles affectionately. She hauls the last tug from your blankets. You eventually unleash your grasp and brace yourself on your elbows. Helaena likewise beams as she delineates your weary features with her fingers. “You must eat. Come, my mother is waiting for us!”

“I can't get up,” you pout, attending her laughter. She looked far too pleased upon your disheveled state. You know she means no harm and did not want to push you into any discomforting situation. Breakfast with the Queen Regent is of importance. She was to be your mother-in-law - in other ways, already a maternal figure in your life. You can hope she understands your delay and weary condition. 

Down the halls of the palace, vociferous footsteps echo across the hallways. The impulsive arrival of another family member of House Targaryen stunned a few of the maids as they hastened their work. You peek towards the unrestricted doors to find Helaena with her expression more optimistic. Possibly she was eager to see her brother in a state of recklessness.

“Aemond,” Helaena hums with a hint of giddiness. He reaches a stop a few feet from your bed railings. The maidens skim up anxiously at the eye-patched prince and then at his sister. Regardless, out of fear, they all scurry out of the room as quickly as possible. You wonder if his presence always alerts the working members of King’s Landing like mice. And as if Helaena had listened to your thoughts, she teasingly questions, “Must you always scare off the maids?”

“Are you hurt?” he asks with such confusion and determination. You could undoubtedly tell he was not in a jesting mood. Your sister-in-law notices and gives him a curt smile. She furthermore turns to you and reaches for your hand. You recuperate her action and clutch her hand softly and her cheeks glow pink. 

“I’ll be waiting in the dining room,” she asserts in a quiet whisper. You nod and clutch her hand one more time before releasing. Her eyes glow with tenderness as she glimpses back and forth between you and your fiancé. “I’ll be waiting!”

As she skipped out of the room, Aemond unwinds his shoulders. The silence was consistently a recurrence in your relationship with Aemond. You would still find comfort in his presence. Aemond is calm and precise with his tongue. His eloquent indication is a quality you often admire. Thus you do not mind the casual tranquility between the two of you. It gives you a moment to admire him in his formal attire of a leather suit, colored in all black. His eyepatch hangs securely on his left eye. 

Aemond acknowledges your stare and calmly strides to the curtained window. In moments of close intimacy, unknown to you, your fiancé feels awkward. He can't find the proper words to communicate to you. It nearly feels absurd of him to tell you his sentiments. An hour prior, his god-forsaken brother admittedly teases him of you having the flu. He implies that you seemed stressed from all the work you have been assisting the Queen. His mother had many duties daily. It was more than honorable of you to offer your service. Was it too much? Did you feel pressure from the Council and his grandsire? 

To his relief, you were not sick. You were healthy and alive. And as he tries to ignore your gaze, Aemond finds it difficult on what to say next. It is immature and ridiculous of him to fall for such a plan trick. 

But the matter was concerning you.

The young prince could never turn his back on you. He values your tolerance with his insufferable thoughts. As much as he wanted to ponder all the ways to get back at Aegon, you were still present, lounging.

“I am not hurt or ill,” you perk up, reminding him of the question he had asked. The silver-haired prince turns to see you stretch your arms. In a catlike way, you crane your neck upwards idly. With a groan, you add. “The maesters made sure of it.”

“Are you perhaps troubled?” The way he interrogates you is awkward and stiff. It must be difficult for him - you wager. It's easy to fake intimacy in front of guests and merchants. However, inside the establishment where only servants and guards are present, the importance of reputation is less stringent. Maintaining a sense of dignity is critical to avoid rumors and rejection.

“No, just restless,” You smile sleepily. You lay in the soft cushions of your bed. Your blanket is smooth and plush with cotton - excessively applied with your favorite fragrance. The oriental scent of amber fills your nose with ease. The perfume is faint yet potent. “Though I wished I had milk of the poppy.”

“The milk of the poppy will kill you, lady wife,” he responds in a composed and assertive manner. As you gaze, you notice his eyes locked onto yours. 

"Why are you so concerned that you rushed into my chambers?" You meet his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. The bright summer rays of King's Landing reflect off his shining sapphire eye. Although he was concerned about your well-being, he hesitated to acknowledge it. It is up to him to decide whether to accept accountability or brush it off as mere jest. It's worth noting that he initiated the topic that ultimately led to your triumph.

You relish in your triumph when Aemond fails to respond. He turned and pushed back the curtains, allowing more light to enter the room. You were aware he couldn't bring himself to admit it due to his excessive pride. Despite your desire to tease and mock, you acknowledged the thoughtfulness in his actions. Aemond's reputation remains intact even without the presence of citizens and working staff to observe him. He possessed exceptional sword-fighting abilities and was known for his unforgiving precision. He exhibits unwavering commitment and dedication to carrying out his duties. Having trained with Criston Cole for years, he has learned the importance of strategy and strength. And his greatest attribute is his ability to remain silent.

After some contemplation, you decide to get out of bed. Your bare feet come into contact with the stone-cold floors as you pursue your fiancé. You proceed cautiously and approach him from behind, getting closer to him. Slowly raising your hands to trace the leather-laced armor of his, you can feel his shoulders lower in exhaustion. 

For six months, you two drastically bonded over many things. Aemond became accustomed to your presence and hobbies gradually. The closer you got to him, the more you sought him out. It would start as casual conversations of each other’s day to extensive discussions of politics. You did not mind his forlorn interest in philosophy or combat - his interests allowed him the most freedom to speak. Close intimacy slowly became gradual. You were grateful for the relationship the two of you have created. The trust you built between each other was serene and comforting. As you hug your lover from behind, you tilt your head behind his shoulder. In addition, Aemond hugs your forearms for support. 

“Would the Queen Mother be upset if we showed up late, dear husband?” you rubbed your eyes out of tiredness. Aemond narrows his eyes down at you meticulously. 

“She could never be upset with you, love,” he murmurs, clenching his jaw.

You lovingly smile, holding out your hand. “Help me get ready?” 

The way the sun beams beautifully down your figure makes his heart beat faster. He nods in agreement as you lead him hand in hand-to your wardrobe. The maidens that were present earlier had everything arranged according to your liking. You were lucky they came on such short notice. Your bedroom was abandoned - with the workload you helped with the Queen.

Something Aemond fails to acknowledge is his fondness for you. He finds it challenging to express his feelings to you. After all, you find it so naturally. But you are sly and discreetly tease him about it nonstop. Yet the short attempts of affection he tries are enough for you. Every action and phrase he speaks is enough for you. The way his heart yearns more for your attention and touch is overwhelming. It’s sickening. When he feels his emotion elevates, heat rises from his chest. To say you were a goddess. You look enchanting regardless of what you wear. His House colors of red and black only made your beauty more refined. The dark tones it alludes to make you look irresistible to the eye.

Aemond stares at your back, eyes softening. People often allude to his cold exterior and unwavering status. But what they can't deny is the way he looks at you. It's a redundant routine people gossip about. They detest - how can an elegant lady seduce a man like himself? Second sons are rumored to be mischievous - with a lack of devotion. Therefore it brings the entire realm stunned when Aemond shows up with you. His delicate gestures towards you surprise many of your close relatives. Even his family finds his devotion strange. However, the silver-haired prince doesn't care. 

You're his ire, his muse. The way you sway back and forth in your nightgown - he feels lightheaded. Your hair is loose and messy, covering your shoulders. It's beautiful without the ribbons and braids. He knows you desperately wish to let your hair down more often. However, it is prohibited and considered to be unladylike. However, your face was glowing. Your rosy cheeks faintly remind him of peaches as well. And the flutter of your eyelashes makes your pouty expression more captivating. 

He blames the sun for its ability to elevate your features. You were delicate like this. With no stress, you were much happier and content. The Councilmen and Queen should not have to pressure you. It was their position and status to oversee all functions of King's Landing. You mustn't bother yourself with extensive work and paperwork. 

His thoughts were interrupted by you humming. You can sense his attentiveness was directed at you now. You present two dresses in front of him. One dress of his House colors while the other of yours. His choice was almost immediate by how his keen eye gazed longingly at it.

“Of course, you chose this,” you fling the disregarded dress back into the closest. “These are your favorite colors.” Your prince almost gives you a look, furrowing his eyebrows.

Instead, he says, “It suits you,” walking behind you to undo your nightgown laces. “You're a part of the family now.” 

Aemond helps you, one leg at a time, and into the black dress. He adjusts the straps around your shoulders. The eventual silence that follows feels natural as the two of you maneuver over fixing any mishaps the dress needs. You annoyingly pull at the tight sleeves near your biceps - in return, your fiancé expands the straps to allow more comfort. 

You’ve never realized how gentle he was with you. His presence itself gives you solace. There is no distress or discomfort. It’s the mutual understanding between you and him that solidifies your marriage. Alicent was lucky enough to have caught your affections on the day you visited King’s Landing. You were fortunate to meet Helaena. Without her help, you would not have been able to explore the castle halls. Without Helaena, you would not have met Aemond. For a mundane trip, it turned out to be exciting the next. After years of yearning and fear, Queen Alicent accepted your betrothal.

The dining table was beautifully vibrant in its many colors of fruits and savory dishes. While - the room carried dark tones of cold brick walls. The laggard cracks complement the heavily decorated windows. It brings out the illuminated light reaching from the dining table. It's rustic but comforting. In every corner, candles and the smell of the burning fireplaces dance back and forth. Baked goods and wine lay settled in the middle of the plateau. In truth, morning breakfast looked more like a party appetizer. With its many aromas, sweet and savory mix richly alongside the heavy wooden burned flames.

The window nearest to the doors lay bare, allowing fresh air to cleanse over the overwhelming flavorful goods. It was a meal fit for kings and queens. And truth, you were grateful to be living in King’s Landing with the Targaryens. Even though they hold the most power in the Seven Kingdoms, they welcomed you with open arms as the newest addition to their family. You’ve always feared that the Targaryens were greedy and ambitious rulers. Many kings passed through generations in time were either cruel or kind. But for most of your life, King Viserys was the latter, the most considerate and compassionate ruler of all of Westeros. 

Because of his absence, you felt disheartened. On the few occasions you met, King Viserys was welcoming. He was enthusiastic about the marriage. His greetings were always with proud smiles. However, they never last when his eyes droop slightly. As if you could sense his conflicted thoughts, Viserys returns with a nervous nod. You can perceive a sense of hesitance and sadness that washes over the king. Those small interactions have made you grow to care for him more. There was an urge to seek him out - to always ask about his well-being. 

 Queen Alicent is polite and considerate. Since your stay at King's Landing, Alicent has been your mentor and friend. She helps you adjust to your new home. She allows you to listen to the gossip her maids speak of. You follow her on every trip she takes. You might have mistaken it to be her lady-in-waiting. In truth, she values your placement in Aemond's life and enjoys your conversations over tea and dessert. 

“Good morning,” The queen gently smiles, clutching your hand. You squeeze her hand and return her smile. 

“Good morning, my Queen.”

“Come, have a seat. There is plenty of food to go around,” Alicent gestures towards the remaining chairs across from Helaena and Aegon. Their twins, Jaehaera and Jaehaerys , sat at the ends of the table with two maids. You swiftly sit across from your sister-in-law. Your fiancé takes out his chair and sits quietly. “How are you feeling, dear?”

You almost forgot. Last night you went to bed early because of how exhausted you were. Alicent has insisted you retire early and take milk of the poppy if necessary. The maids around you wordlessly escorted you out. Your mind was hazy - you assumed you passed out. And when you woke to see the sunrise, you knew a day had passed. You weren’t sure if the poetry reading or running through the Red Keeps with the twins were the reason for your dilemma. But whatever was plaguing your mind was long forgotten. Though since you had woken up, your body felt sore and sluggish.

“I feel better, thank you.” In time, you were thankful for Alicent’s motherly qualities. Though you desperately miss your mother, she was never as kind-hearted and benevolent as the Queen. “I have thought about taking milk of the poppy-”

“You won’t be taking the milk of the poppy, my love,” Aemond voices, grasping your hand on the table. This action does not go unnoticed by his older brother - who quirks his eyebrow. “She is in better condition than she was before. There is no need for that.” 

“Well, that is good to hear…” the Queen mother cheekily beams, crossing her hands together. “Shall we say our prayers?” Everyone nods in silence, listening to Alicent’s chanting words. Targaryens do not accept the Seven as their gods. They are closer to the gods than men. In respect of House Hightower, some rituals have stayed in the presence of the Queen. She is keen on keeping some of her customs alive with her children. 

Straight after prayers, Aegon calls out your name. “Would you like to go dragon riding?” You look up at your brother-in-law in excitement. But before answering, he also adds. “The weather today is beautiful. We should ride out by Blackwater Bay.”

“I think that would be a lovely idea.” his wife, Helaena adds, patting her child. Her son, Jaehaerys babbles nonsense while his sister claps her hands eagerly.

“It sounds delightful,” you bashfully gleam, straightening your back from your chair. “Since the storm, I do believe the weather has dramatically improved.” You can feel his hand stiffen on top of yours. There was a valid reason for the prolonged discussion. Aemond tries to shrug it off, demeaning as if you are unfit to ride yet. He worries for your safety and avoids the conversation whenever you bring it up.

“It has,” Alicent softly mumbles before placing a piece of fruit into her mouth. After chewing, she then adds. “I think it would be good for the four of you to spend time together.”

“No.” Your husband upsettingly says upon placing his fork back. Your fiancé had a rough relationship with his brother. Aemond would rather spend time with you alone than have Aegon intrude. Aegon was bothersome and a nuisance in his eyes. It did not help that Helaena was by his side. He could never deny ignoring his older sister - he would have to endure it.  

Aegon looks at his younger brother mockingly. “Why so, brother? It would be fun to spend time with your siblings and future lady wife.” You can sense his anger is ticking higher and higher with Aegon’s pestering. The room suddenly felt tense - even the children quieted down. Helaena sat beside her husband, twiddled her fingers, and said nothing. Not once did she intervene between the two princes. It was something not even the Queen could detest. Targaryens were known for their hard-boiled temper. Violence was within their domain. It was something you were aware of - that did not stop you from intervening.

“That is exactly why I would not want to,” Aemond says with irritation. Alicent was quick to pierce her lips in weariness, afraid of what events might transpire next. “I will not have you alongside my lady wife go dragon riding. She is not fit to ride.”

"Funny since, as I recall, she has lived here for six months. She can handle being around dragons!” His older brother laughs, eyeing you to back his claims. Despite your anger, you agreed with Aegon. Your lack of intimacy with the dragons in the Dragonpit was natural. For six months, you have grown closer to Aemond and Vhagar. Occasionally you would meet him and his dragon outside the kingdom. Meeting her for the first time terrified you. 

Dragons were a majestic delicacy even for your House. They were rare legendary beasts from the time of old Valyria. Every time you meet her, she gradually becomes comfortable around you. You can tell whenever she takes in your scent occasionally that she knows you would be a frequent visitor. Progress with Vhagar was slow and favorable. Aemond has encouraged you to move closer to her prominent form. Once you were in close vicinity, it felt exhilarating. Her large snout and rough scales were captivating. Her size intimated you first - eventually, you grew to appreciate her stature. She held such power that not even Sunfrye or Dreamfrye could compare. 

Tightening your grip, you turn to your fiancé. "Fret not husband," You say in a soothing tone. Aemond's eyes soften, and the crease on his eye flattens. "I think it would be fun to fly alongside Aegon and Helaena. And I promise to be careful." His stare is unwavering, looking into the souls of your eyes with confidence. You can tell he is thinking of all the possible ways to deny your promise. Many casualties could happen out of his control when riding a dragon. It is risky - he was born to ride one. You were not. 

“You will not be riding on either Sunfrye or Dreamfrye.” he slowly sneers and looks back at his brother. Jokingly again, Aegon wickedly grins and raises his glass to sip. Helaena, unbeknownst to everyone, released a breath she had been holding for the entirety of their conversation. Alicent also sighs in relief, eternally grateful to have your caring nature. 

“You all best eat and dress appropriately for the summer winds.” Alicent again states, taking a slip of her fresh drink. You can help but gleam happily beside your fiancé. 

In honesty, the summer wind was as hectic as last night. The storm previously struck many waves, and disaster in the forest was no different. However, the sun shines brightly without thundering clouds. As the day spring glows down on your attire, you suddenly feel nausea. It possibly was from the intense smell of euthymic or the lingering scent of dragons. You wore a tight tunic with black gloves. You were also grateful for Helaena’s assistance as you’ve never worn dragon riding gear before. 

It would be your first time riding a dragon. Something you desperately looked forward to from the first moment you officially met Vhagar. She was massive and intimating. Much like your so-called future husband, she was brooding and quiet. She should know many values of how she groaned and blinked curiously at you for the first time. Aemond was reluctant to allow ease between the two of you beforehand. He believed it was best if you were to live in King’s Landing with him, you had to become accustomed to Vhagar. Through many meetings and encouragement, you’ve become rather fond of the oldest dragon in the world. She was gray and incredibly violent but also peculiar and playful. 

Therefore whenever you jumped at the opportunity to pet her, she lightheartedly nudged you. And on a day when you would be traveling with two more dragons, you were more than happy to ride alongside her. When you stepped onto the field where she lay, Vhagar abruptly rose to look down at you. 

Aemond takes notice in her quick position and stops the two of you. Your eyes twinkle in glee, shouting in Valyrian, “Hello, Vhagar!”

In return, she howls in the loud grumble that shakes the ground beneath her. The grasses wither in terror, similar to the dragon tamers who watch from afar. Knowingly no one could tame Vhagar at her size, Aemond is the only one allowed to survey her. Even when she barely fits in the Dragonspit, he’s reluctant for her to stay outdoors on the open valleys and terrains as she pleases.

A few feet behind you, Aegon shouts back at you. “You know the Valyrian tongue?” in such surprise that you laugh at his bewildered expression. Helaena, following her husband, claps in enjoyment, proud of your fluency. Your soon-to-be husband grins at you in satisfaction though none of the other dragon tamers nor Helaena see. You giddily chuckle before dragging him towards the beast. Only you and Vhagar were able to witness him in this state.

“How else would I be able to communicate with Vhagar?!” Teasingly back, you turn to Vhagar almost mutually she nods. Admittedly, you and Aemond stroll toward her towering form in adoration. Even to this day, you were impressively intimidated by her size. Yet only a mere interaction, your heart shortly slows down and makes you realize you cherish her in every circumstance.

You make your way up the saddle that holds onto Vhagar's back. Ropes that hang alongside her back require endurance and strength. The ropes interlocked like nets used for fishing. For a few grueling minutes, you were disdainful of how far you managed to climb on Vhagar’s back. A few feet below, you can see Aemond slowly ascending closer to your feet. Traveling up the creature's back was tedious - you wonder how he accomplished this daily to ride her. 

The silver-haired prince moves to the front of the steering position. He readjusts the ropes and restraints before looking behind at your sitting stance. You uncomfortably adjust your seating position, gripping the saddle. He gestures to you to move closer as you grasp his waists tightly. He anticipates waiting for you to say anything - you don't. Comfortably, you rest your chin on his shoulder, and your faces become centimeters closer. 

The look on Aemond's face is subtle yet gentle. He holds one of your hands and kisses your palm. Immediately you can feel the butterflies in your stomach flapping. You can see from afar that Aegon and Helaena had also climbed on their dragons and lifted off. Everything at one once feels out of perspective. The out-of-body experience you feel when Vhagar's wings start to flap. Thrilling and terrifying at the same time. The moment when the Vhagar leaves the ground, your heart beats so fast, you only focus on your heartbeat. 

Straight away, you were transported up into the skies. The harsh currents make you squint your eyes shut. It feels almost too intense. Even your ears feel suffocated, unable to hear anything else than the rushing breezes. You couldn't register where you were right away. Your vision slowly came back to you as you saw faint shapes of white. The clouds you often catch from below look majestic from where you flew. You were at a loss for words. The tales Aemond had described could never compare to the view you were seeing. The sun you could see thousands of miles away was more prominent and glowing.  

You can hear Aegon laugh nearby - you cannot look away from the view. In your far-right peripherals, you can see Helaena’s fleeting form. She is utterly ravishing. Not that you had ever seen her in any other way - her hair sways back and forth, making you short of breath. She can feel your stare and looks at you teasingly. It was as if she knew you were still adjusting to the high pressure of the sky and pushed Dreamfyre to dive below. 

The long-haired prince peers behind to quirk up an eyebrow. As if asking you, terrified yet? Of course, your blood was pumping the fastest it ever felt. Your neck was hot from the sweat and adrenaline you had. Everything happened so quickly. How could you not possibly be terrified? However, you know he was testing you. Aemond was used to the adrenaline. You were the one who had just gone through a fever dream. 

You were about to say something until Vhagar plunged at high speed. The immediate whiplash of water and wind makes you scream, tightening your grip on Aemond’s waist. You can feel your stomach drop. Your waist almost lifts itself from the saddle. You try to shriek for Aemond’s attention - it is no use. And almost immediately, everything comes to a stop. The clouds disappear from your peripherals while the green landscapes come into view. Without realizing Vhagar dips cooly down to the ocean, allowing one of her wings to skim through the waters. 

You were in awe and amazement. The entire ride up and out of the sky was worth the scare. Slowly your senses come back to you. The dizziness you felt was no longer there. And the unwanted tears from the high pressure were not dry. Not to mention, your hair was a mess. Your entire face was pale beside your rosy cheeks. And when the rest of the dragons come to view by a valley side of a beach, the two of you carefully descend from Vhagar's saddle.  

“That was amazing!” you gasp, realizing how out of breath you were. You shook Aemond's shoulders back and forth, still energetic after the after-flight. “The clouds were so beautiful, Aemond!”

“You looked so out of breath!” Your brother-in-law snickered out of breath, jumping off of Sunfrye with ease. Helaena does the same and dusts off the dirt from her pants. She looked short-winded but managed to keep her composure intact. However, out of everyone, Aemond was the most capable. He did not look tired - his clothes were windblown. 

“Do you understand why you are not fit to ride now?” You glance at the prince's slyness. You comprehend Aemond was being sarcastic, ridiculing you for your out-of-breath roller coaster ride of a lifetime. It proves that you were very much not accustomed to dragon riding and its strong currents of twists and turns. And though he is right, you were too prideful to submit. 

“Oh, of course, dear husband,” you mock back, slowly closing the gap between you two. A grin slowly creeps on Aemond's face. “But I would very much like to go again.”

[an-au-blog]

Thinking how jester!Buggy in the royalty au is literally that one meme that's like:

Mohji (angrily): Fuck the king!

Buggy: Yeah, fuck the King!

Buggy a few days later: Hey, guess who I hooked u with last night?

Mohji: Who?

Buggy: King Shanks.

Mohji: What?!

Buggy: You said fuck the- ... you didn't mean literally

Mohji: No, I didn't mean literally!

And it is so funny to me... So here's an elaboration of that :)

Buggy doesn't automatically jump in the sheets with the king. He's not that big of a moron. But after word spread that the king only laughed at the jester's jokes a wave of new preformers of various kinds started piling up at the castle's front gate to get the chance of winning the king's favor.

In the beginning the king maybe entertained the idea. But he soon realized that none of them had that raw honesty. None of them were as unfiltered, they all did it to get on his good side. They didn't mean any of it... They just weren't Buggy.

At some point he makes his people find the jester who performed that night. Word spread that the king personally requested him. So his fellow thievs encourage him to get close to the king so he can snuggle them in. "Think about how much more we can sneak out" they told him. So he decided to give it a shot. He already had quite a bit of luck the first time - he kept his head, he kept the stolen goods, he even made an impression on the king enough to be invited again.

So he goes. He tries to get himself a castle tour to scout out the terrain, but the guards escorting him weren't that naive. Still, they couldn't kick him out, after all the king insisted for him particularly.

Once he started "performing" for king Shanks, Buggy couldn't help but notice that the king's eyes seemed glued on him. At first he was worried it was because Shanks was suspicious of him. After all, with every visit, Buggy had been sneaking things out to sell on the black market. But then he realized, it wasn't staring as much as it was tracing his moves. His eyes would linger on him for a bit longer than seemed normal. Maybe it was his ego thinking he could be found attractive by a desired man like the king... But then again, the king would often stop the performance just to chat with him. He would offer him food, wine, parting gifts... Even when Buggy asked for him to show him around the castle, Shanks was eager to comply.

So to test out his theory, Buggy decided to make a bit of a risky move. He asked his friend Alvida to help him. She was a professional dancer, who knew exactly how to charm anyone. In fact that was how they became friends - she would distracted men while Buggy passed by and pickpocketed them.

When the time was right, Buggy bet it all. Vabanque - if it works they'd come out rich, if it didn't - they'd be food for the vultures by sunrise.

It started off as usual, which was followed with an invitation to dinner. After that, as the servants were serving the dessert Buggy played his cards. "I was actually hoping to try a new trick I learned. It's a shame I have to leave soon." If he was correct, his men had already infiltrate the first gates.

Shanks's eyes sparked. "By all means! Stay all night if you need, I must see it now!" His laugh sounded like thunder through the room.

Buggy huffed "Oh, my king," my king... Shanks had always loved that phrase. Buggy tried to test out all the titles he could to see which made him more inclined to say yes - milord, sire, king Shanks... but calling him my king, that was at the top of the list. Maybe it was the possessiveness, maybe it was the ego rub, in any case, Buggy didn't use it often - careful not to wear it out. "I cannot perform like this, it is unseemly."

Shanks raised a questioning eyebrow "Whatever could you mean?"

This was it. He couldn't fuck it up. If his men hadn't gotten in the main part of the castle by now there would be no way this would work. "I am much too shy to perform in front of all your guards and maids." He fluttered his eywlashes and tilted his head away ever so slightly "I couldn't possibly bare the shame of anyone other than you witnessing it..." As a selling point he shifted his eyes back to Shanks and averted them again like a flustered maiden.

Shanks bought it. Not only did he buy it - he was excited by the thought, intrigued, eager to please.

"Well, of we were alone-"

The king didn't even wait for the end of the sentence, he gestured to the main guard. "Clear the room."

He looked at Buggy for approval. Buggy shook his head 'no'.

"You know, clear the whole floor."

Buggy shook his head again.

"Make it the upper floor and lower floor as well."

Buggy was pleased. As soon as they all left, the jester started performing the "trick" Alvida taught him. "It's a dance" he said, approaching the king - he was taken aback, but not quite unpleased.

Buggy had promised his men time a bit before sunrise. He just hoped the king wouldn't kick him out before that. He soon finds that his worries are for not because the King was absolutely enchanted by every sway, every step, every flick of his wrist. And of course the jester was embarrassed, but he would become filthy rich and could go into hiding after that.

He approached the king, dancing closer with the intention to make him concentrate on him more but it seemed to have the opposite effect. The king looked away, unpleased. At one point he leaned into his palm, massaging his templates as if on the verge of a migraine. "Buggy..." he tried to say but the clown was too occupied in his thoughts of how can I grab his attention again. "Buggy." Still not stopping.

"Buggy stop. Just... stop. You don't have to do this."

"What do you mean, my king?"

"Don't... stop, I can hear the clanking of gold from three doors down. At least spear me the humiliation of insulting my intelligence." The king seemed sullen. "Take what you want and leave. I'd hate to force you to do such things against your will."

Buggy was speechless for multiple reasons. And since he didn't know how to filter his thoughts he decided ro spit them out. "First and foremost - you, milord have incredible hearing. It's inhumane might I say," his words seemed of praise but his tone contradicted. "Secondly, I am offended you imply that I would serve myself for a mere pocketful of gold! Whatever I do, I do by my own volition!"

"It is not your own volition if you feel no other choice."

"Oh, I had other choices! Nevertheless, thirdly - I am in shock that you assumed I would sleep with you for money. I am not a common whore that would toss himself at any man with money!"

"Only a man of royal blood, with money..." Shanks huffed. It was an ill-timed joke that did more damage than it should have.

"Excuse me?" Buggy was angry. "If you think I couldn't have robbed you blind all the times I've been here until now, then you are the drunk fool the rest of the kingdoms think of you."

"I know you could have. I know you've been taking less and less. That's why I wondered what your goal was. That's why I was hoping..." he couldn't say his thoughts out loud. He couldn't, or he really would be a fool.

Buggy's blood boiled. There was something about this king, this man that made him have a mix of emotions that he couldn't quite discern. He did what he did best - act upon them. He marched with an angry step to where Shanks was sitting, put up a leg on the empty armrest, grabbed both sides of his face and kissed him. It was angry and cold but then Shanks realized what was going on and melted into it - passionate and warm. When he broke the kiss, Buggy whispered "I'm doing this because I want this. And unlike you, I don't bottle up whatever's pent up."

(this got too long and it's late so imma just postit now ig)

[lilacxoz]

Princess - Gojo Satoru X Reader

F!reader

Warnings!: non protected sex, choking, darcryphilia, love bombing, Princess X Royal Guard trope.

I am not responsible for people under 18 who read this. minors or ageless bloggers please dni!

“Please Prue, I cannot stomach anything for the work I must complete before sunrise,” you bit your bottom lip, looking over the written up budget for the kingdoms church. You hadn’t realized just how rich they’d become from your fathers rein. You weren’t much of a religious folk, so you were afraid to cut their income by half.

“Your highness, you are not to eat then I must call your personal guard, for he will make you,” he warned, knowing what kind of bond you and your guard had. He’d been your guard for ten years now, since your sixteenth birthday. He was a foolish boy who wasn’t good at his job in leaving your alone and protecting you from afar. But you’d grown a connection to him, sharing secrets and thoughts in your tower many times. You’d shared things that not even your reflection had heard.

“Call Satoru if you dare, I shall simply give him the same response as you,” you told her, offering a fake smile. Your maid, Prue, was a nice women yet you couldn’t appreciate her kindness due to the stress. She sighed, placing the tray on your desk before leaving your chambers.

As You embraced the silence, your wooden walls homing the orange flicker of your candles. Your desk was covered in papers and folders, painted by the light and some even your tears. You were almost done though, almost free to sink deep into your mattress and let the night whisper a story.

After around three revolutions of the clocks long hand, you heard soft footsteps grow closer outside the door. Your ears perked up, recognizing who held such confidence strides. The wood creaked outside your door as he unlocked the wooden door. He stepped inside, not earning a glance from you. He clicked his tongue through a grin, unstrapping his sword from his waist.

“Princess,” he called to you, setting his sword against your desk as he pulled over a stool next to you. You glanced over at him, being met with his beautiful eyes of the sea. That’s what drew you to keeping him as your guard, his eyes reminded you of salty air and the sound of waves crashing against large rock formations.

“Princess,” he called to you again, this time a little more demanding, “tell me why you choose to be defiant.” You didn’t spare a glance this time, focused on writing down a couple numbers down on the budget for the local taverns. You chose to be a little generous since you yourself liked to relax in one of the local taverns at night before curfew.

You were pulled by Satoru’s soft hand holding your chin between his fingers, making you look up at him. He always had a way of making you flutter like the butterflies you loved to watch with him in the spring. He knew the kind of effect he had on you, and you knew he knew as well. It was almost unspoken, woven between the threads of the stares you share that your relationship had grown far from princess and guard. It was just a matter of time before someone drew further over the line.

“You must eat the soup Chef Dee has prepared for you. It would be a waste and an insult to his craft if you were to leave his food untouched.” He handed you the bowl of soup in a cherry oak bowl. “Eat.”

You stared from him to the bowl, grabbing the silver spoon off the tray and and complying with his request. Prue was right, you cannot defy him. He was persuasive with his words and actions, it was addictive to see just how far you could push him.

“Thank you Princess. After you eat, please slip into your night gown before you grown marks from your corset,” he asked if you, poking your side. You wore your day dress: a soft pink ankle dress with a white lace corset that wasn’t as harsh as your evening dress. It was comfortable, made of silk with lace trim and an off-the-shoulder touch. Your hair was let down, your mothers hair pins holding back your face framing pieces to help you see the papers better. You could admit, it was a little embarrassing for him to see you this way. But then again, he’d seen you down to your undergarments so you had nothing to worry when it came to presentation.

“Why you care so much about my health is up for debate in my head, it cannot just be because of your guardian duties or the fact we are close,” you pointed out. He shined you he boyish smile, his white hair covering some of his eyes. He was truly an amazement at how gorgeous yet masculine Satoru was. His sharp jaw and plush lips were enough to leave a girl melted at the knees. He was every girls fantasy, yet every man’s threat. Satoru was the chief of royal guards, quickly moving up the ranks from when he was placed as your personal guard. He had better opportunities presented to him to change roles, yet he stuck with you. Now he was chief, yet always made time to be with you most of the day.

“Can a guard not care for his princess without reason? The way you doubt me hurts, princess,” he faked pain in his chest, earning a few giggles from you. You laugh was contagious yet a beautiful hymn to him.

His face suddenly dropped, as if lost in his own mind. You nudged him with your foot on his ankle, asking him why he was distancing himself. “My Princess,” he looked down at you with something strange, “shall your coronation come by spring, I cannot promise I will stay your guard. I-“

You watched him break, his jaw hard as he stared at you distantly. You knew the rules, you knew you had to switch to your fathers guard due to tradition. But you hated tradition, it was all a bunch of horse play. You placed your hand on his knee, the other following as you set your bowl of soup down. The candlelight danced across his face, making him appear even more beautiful than before.

“Shall the day come Satoru, I will fight my ancestors and the kingdoms expectations of queen if it is what I must do to keep you. You aren’t leaving my side, I will stand between the lines of the people and royalty just to be with you,” your breath was gone, telling a breathless, “for I love you.”

His hands slid to your shoulders, his eyes clearing of his brain clouds. He knew what he wanted now, and he didn’t care if it was forbidden. He didn’t care if he had to bite the apple as Eve did, as long as he had you by his side.

His lips drew closer, your breaths mixing together in a concoction that left your knees weak. You took the apple, connecting your lips to his. He tasted of the forbidden apple, whimpering out from the sweet taste. You hadn’t realized how much you needed him until his hands trailed down to your waist. You took the initiative, crawling into his lap and letting him lead the kiss.

He was your Romeo, your Shakespeare tragedy that led you astray. You didn’t care of the consequences that would fall over you both for doing this, you were going to be queen and you’d fight for him. He knew that, falling down the same path as you. He’d quit his title as a royal guard just to hold you to sleep every night. Just to taste your lips, just to touch you…just to feel you. He was lovesick, and so where you.

He pulled away from the kiss, watching you breath heavily. He slid his finger tips against your cheek, watching the redness form from your embarrassment and lust. “I cannot kiss you any further when you deserve a bed,” Satoru whispered, leaving the only sound to occupy the room being your breaths and the wind blowing against the windows.

You smirked down at him, combing your fingers thorough his soft snowy hair. It was late winter, his hair reflecting the thick snow coating the once green ground. “As your Queen,” you stated in an authoritative tone, “I command you show me what you think about doing to me on this desk.”

Your body was on fire, his lips all over your neck as you sat on your desk, legs cradling his torso. You could feel him through his trousers, wanting so bad to remove the articles of clothing that were blocking your connection. You needed him so bad, so bad it physically hurt. The fire between your legs grew stronger than the candle flame, and he could feel it.

He reached a hand down between your legs, slipping it down into your undergarments. He could feel how wet you were from a simple touch, only fueling his body more. His hips were magnetic to yours, so much so that he couldn’t control himself from grinding up against the hand he was slowly slipping inside you. His other hand was wrapped around your neck, your eyes rolling back through each small squeeze of his fingertips. You had to be quiet, for anyone could walk up your tower and ask for your assistance. But in some strange way, that made you just a little less quiet. It was almost thrilling, heightening your endless pleasure.

“Tell me Princess, does it feel good to be in such a vulnerable state at the hands of your royal guard?” He asked in a sinister manner, eliciting a small whimper and a nod. He smirked at the response, looking down at you. “Tell me how good.”

He curled his fingers, making your body jerk forward as your eyes squeezed shut. You’d had many late night with guys from the tavern looking for something quick and fulfilling. Even princes had come and made you feel like you were floating. But nobody compared to the way he knew how to play you perfectly, like a bard with his lyre. It was mesmerizing, freeing. Your body melting deep into the earth and coming out in heaven.

You whispered his name in a chant, like the nuns at the cathedral. You were close to that heaven, sinking deeper and deeper until you were finally at the gates. Your body exploded in pleasure, eyes tearing up as Satoru watched you unravel in his hand. Your high lasted longer than any other you’d experienced, opening your watery eyes to be met with his flushed face and a smirk. He was full of lust, and you wanted him to feel what you felt.

You helped him get you out of your undergarments, as well as freeing him of his work belt and unbuttoning his work pants. He cock was large and thick, oozing with precum. You both watched eachothers movemnts, looking for any discomfort; but there was none to be found. You both wanted this, needed this. You both spent long nights, from sunset to sunrise, dreaming and pretending this moment right now was real. Now it was, and you weren’t wasting any time in indulging in it.

You let out a gasp as he slid himself inside you, the skirt of your dress bunched at your hips. The desk below you moaned from the weight of his small thrust, but you both couldn’t fathom anything around you. All you both could focus on was your connection. “Satoru…” you whispered, his hands planted down on the desk by your hips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, crashing your lips to his in a kiss of need. He complied, slowly rocking his hips against yours. You could feel him, all of him, and it was nothing compared to anything you’ve ever experienced before.

His thrusts grew a bit faster as his lips devoured yours, as if a kiss of death. Your body had succumbed to his, moving your body to try and keep up with his thrusts. The desk below was creaking with each fast movement, loud enough for anyone in the stairway to hear. But you didn’t care anymore, especially with the loud moan of his name you let slip. He loved the noice, pulling away from your lips to only attack your neck with bites that caused more.

You moaned, but you were missing something. He pulled away, watching you grab on of his hands and slip his thumb over a specific part of your body. He felt the bundle of nerves, watching you face contort into one of pure blissful pleasure. He loved the reaction, rubbing the small nub faster and pressing down on it. His thrusts grew faster, feeling you tighten around him. He felt it, that feeling of heaven. He ran to it with his pace, your head bobbling with each thrust. You let go of his neck, laying down over the papers as you let him take control.

You were just as close to your orgasm as he was, crying out his name as tears fell down the side of your face. His head leaned back as he gave a few more brutal thrusts before letting himself go inside you. You came just as he did, your bodies connected along with your souls. This was more than just sex, and that was now known between the two of you. This was a soul connection, one that ran deeper than anything you’ve ever felt with anyone.

“I love you, princess,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his head in your neck. He wanted another round, and you were ready to comply to his unspoken request.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

☠️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter One

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Allusions of Domestic Violence.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Masterlist | Next

The night is darkest at dawn. Just before the first rays of of the new day struck the horizon, the night drew infinitely black to offer the last bit of night before being smothered by the sun. You loved the silence it brought, giving you a break from the cumbersome and structured life you lived. Yet that indulging peace was fleeting. Never longer enough for you to taste what you truly longed for and only taunting you with something that you’d never reach. Sighing, you rested your chin on your gathered knees and enjoyed what would be your last sunrise at the Bonn Manor.

You’d been born on the grounds, raised in elegant halls, and soon, be married in its chestnut grove. The wedding had been planned for nearly a year, your engagement? Years. Everything had been meticulously designed down to the length of a single blade of grass. Your mother was a bit of a control freak, hadn’t let you put in one word edgewise and it was your own wedding! Not that you were surprised, you’d never once had the pleasure of even choosing your own outfits or meals.

In hindsight it saved you many a headache for you hadn’t lifted a finger in the entire process. The florist had been given strict direction on what bouquets, boutonnières, and accents should look like, not to mention the flower choice. The bakery in the heart of your island had no doubt been working overtime to supply the cake and other specialty confectionery and the tailor had almost moved into the manor to finish the work on your dress.

Your dress.

It had been in production for nearly eight months. Your town, Kuri Island, while known for it’s chestnut trees was also famed for it’s lacework. League and leagues of lace had been stitched just for your dress and that didn’t even include your outrageous veil! It was enormous, beaded and decorated with an innumerous amount of cloth flowers. Your mother really hadn’t spared any expense, tutting that this had been her lifestyle dream to see you married to a powerful man that would ensure that your noble blood line would continue to prosper.

That and the family business. The Bonn’s had a monopoly on the chestnut and lace industry on Kuri island, ruling with an iron fist and ensuring that they remained the most powerful on the island. Your fiancé was the next in line power wise. As a Marine Commodore, Thomas Collins was the only man on the island worthy of your hand… and in just a few short hours he’d have it.

But not by your choice.

This was an arranged marriage drafted by your parents when you were just a teen, to a man very much your senior and cared little for your own feelings. Worse? He wasn’t a good man, or a good Marine. As much as your mother had tried to control the whispers that reached your delicate ears, you knew the reputation Thomas had among the commoners. He wasn’t a good man, he had a habit of cruelty to those far beneath himself, and you’d even heard rumors of bribery. But politics and Berry had trumped over your personal feelings. You couldn’t refuse this marriage, your opinion couldn’t even leave your lips.

Just as the sun began to rise above the horizon, your maids bustled into your room followed by additional ones to tackle the great task of getting you ready for the wedding in a few hours. Ann and Gerbera, your personal maids, hustled over to you. While Ann scanned your lavender bedhead, Gerbera took your hand and inspected your hands.

“I haven’t gone and ruined my nails,” You murmured, not taking your eyes off the glow of the morning sunrise.

“Your mother requested an inspection, my lady,” Gerbera replied, scanning your immaculate fingernails. “Lest you had made an attempt to flee during the night.”

“And where would I go?” You asked vaguely, your eyes taking on a faraway and clouded look. The maids had often seen it appear within your eyes the closer the wedding drew. They were not oblivious to the matter that you didn’t wish to marry Thomas. Had most definitely witnessed your private breakdowns over the years as you slowly realized that your life had never been your own. They were good to you, excellent maids who took pride in caring for their lady… but they couldn’t even move a single finger to help you in your predicament.

“Never mind that, off to the baths,” Ann softly preened, trying to find light in the fact that you would be glowing with beauty once they were done dressing you for your wedding. You let Gerbera pull you from your lonesome and brooding perch, guiding your through your rooms to the grand bathroom that already steamed with scented water. You could smell the strong scent of rose and argan oil rising from bumbling water. You’d been taking baths thrice weekly to soften your skin to that of the finest satin on your mother’s orders, and had started hating the scent. It made you nauseous. This would be your last so you would bear it.  

Standing in place, Ann and Gerbera delicately undid the strings to your nightdress, pulling it from your body to leave you naked. You didn’t hesitate to step down into the bath. The hot water did very little to ease your growing nausea and discomfort. You knew it wouldn’t. But at the very least it felt nice on your stiff body. You had sat at your window for hours without moving, your mind spinning and descending into the dark depths of the pit of hell you’d soon be living in.

Gerbera knelt behind you and took your long lavender hair in hand, gently running an ivory comb through the tangled strands. You winced every time she caught a knot. Gerbera murmured an apology time and carefully unraveled the knot of hair. Your lavender locks weren’t usually a mess, but you’d tossed and turned all last night before getting up a few hours ago to wait for the sunrise. At the very least, once you were married you’d have more control over the length of your hair. The extraneous length was cumbersome and almost like chains to weight you down. Well, almost every part of your life was some sort of a chain or prison.

So while Gerbera continued to tend to your hair, Ann took to managing oils into your hand and buffing your already immaculate nails. They took extra care in placing dabs of oil in key places on your body. Behind your ears, along your neck, and across your wrists. As you would walk the oils would diffuse in the air around you, perfuming you and leaving behind the scent of rose. A scent that drowned you in hatred. It was always rose this or rose that. Rose jewelry and rose dresses. Even a rose themed bedroom!

If you never smelled another rose after this blasted wedding you would die a happy woman…

You stayed in the bath as long as you’d be allowed, but the strict voice of your mother ringing from your bedroom had Ann and Gerbera pulling you from the bath and wrapping you in a towel. They dried you off in record time, no doubt saving you from a stern lecture, and wrapped your wet hair in a drying towel. The three of you winced when your mother’s voice turned sharp and she nearly started shrieking at the poor girl who had added an extra rose to your bouquet.

“It’s not even seven o’clock yet and the madam is already angry,” Ann murmured, almost hesitant to push you back into your bedroom.

“It’s a perpetual state I believe,” You replied, twisting your fingers together. “The day she is pleasant is the day the world has ended.” Toweled dry, you donned a robe and reluctantly headed back to your bedroom. Your mother was still harping on the poor girl who had gotten the number of flowers wrong in your bouquet when you appeared. She rounded on your life a viper and you had a brief momentary thought that she might have given herself whiplash.

“You!” She barked out. “Why are you not sitting down for your hair and makeup?” You remained silent and simply lowered yourself to the velvet and satin chair in front of your vanity. She continued to berate you for things you had no control over and complain over nonexistent errors. It’d be all over in a few hours, you’d trade one jailer for another.

Your hair was dealt with first. Being so long, it took perhaps nearly half an hour to brush it out smooth and braid it. Then it was swirled and pinned into place upon your head with crystal studded pins that dug into your scalp in a painful reminder. You’d been complimented on how lovely the crystal and flower pins looked within your lavender colored hair, and combined with the minimal makeup being painted upon your face you were sure to look the picture of perfection.

“Heaven’s Linaria could you at the very least respect your mother enough to get sleep during the night!” Your mother huffed, fretting and tutting over the bags beneath your eyes the makeup slowly concealed. “I have worked tirelessly to perfect this wedding and I will not have you ruining it with an unsightly appearance.”

“Yes mother,” You replied obediently. Her eyes, echoing your own but with a much harsher  tint, narrowed and she scoffed.

“Knowing you you’ll make a scene at the reception or even ruin the vows. Commodore Collins isn’t expecting a wildling for a wife! He is expecting a well bred, well taught, and docile wife to meet him at the alter. Do not disappoint me.” Your eyes met hers in the mirror for a brief moment before you dropped your gaze. Your silence wasn’t the answer she expected and taloned nails sunk into your pinned and yanked your head back.

Yelping, your fingers dug into your robe as you were forced to look into her cruel and hard eyes.

“Am I clear? You are to behave, Linaria, do not disappoint this family again,” Her warning was well and clear within her eyes. This was the last one she’d give you. Swallowing thickly, you agreed in the softest voice.

“Yes mother,” Your hair was released and you took in a silent breath of relief, grateful that she wasn’t tugging on your hair still. You were sure that a few of the pins would have to be righted after her harsh hold.

“I have to greet our guests, get her ready to dress,” Your mother snapped before striding from your bedroom in a swirl of heavy skirts. Rubbing your neck with a slight wince, Ann took place behind you and quickly fussed with your hair to return it to pristine condition.

“We beg you, my lady,” Ann pleaded, her fingers gently placing the pins back in order. “I fear what will happen to you the next time you go against the madam.”

“And where exactly would I go at a time like this?” You replied, looking at Ann in the mirror. “The manor and grounds is crawling with visitors, the help, and guards. I have nowhere to go. Besides,” You glanced at the wedding dress on the mannequin in your room. “You think I could run in that? The thing weighs more than I do soaking wet.”

After Ann and Gerbera had gotten your hair and makeup just perfect, they’d been dismissed by your mother’s personal maids. She didn’t trust you with your personal maids and had ordered her own to see to dressing you. So you were alone with maids that had no issue enforcing your mother’s orders. They had you get up and stand in the middle of your room, fluttering around while gathering up the layers of your outfit.

You were already in your underwear and bra, a decorative set that your mother had insisted you wear for the wedding, so when you peeled the robe from your body you weren’t especially shy. Valeria, your mother’s favorite, brought over the heavy dress and with the help of Clover, maneuvered the top of the dress over your head. Despite being made from airy lace, the bones of the ballroom dress were metal and ridged, structuring the dress in the precise way your mother had wanted your body to look.

As you placed your arms in the three quarter sleeves with layered lace and starched silk, Valeria’s fingers were quick to work on the strings of the corset. She tightened it immediately, making a small noise of pain emerge from your lips, and only drew the strings tighter and tighter. As elegant and beautiful as you may look, you felt like you were being tied into a jail cell. Clover joined in on tugging the corset tight, and the bruising tightness only grew worse.

You wanted to bite your lip as your ribs began to screech at you, not liking the pressure. But heaven forbid you turned up to your wedding with bitten and chewed lips. Clenched fingers it was. Several minutes later, after being jerked around and squeezed most viciously, the extravagant veil was being pinned into your hair. Another weight to add. Valeria departed to report to your mother while Clover remained to watch over you. Walking over to the grand mirror in your bedroom, you stared at yourself in dread.

You looked like a trussed turkey heading for the dinner table.

You could admit that you looked beautiful, the shape of your waist cinched in and the wide neckline decorated with fabric rose buds accented your collarbones. Months of work on the lace detailing had pulled out a wedding gown fit for a princess… or a lady from a very rich family. But you couldn’t enjoy your beauty, you couldn’t giggle or dance as the skirts of your dress swirled around your feet. You couldn’t enjoy anything about the dress, no matter how expensive or luxurious it was.

By some grace, an extra maid poked her head into your bedroom with a red face. She began rattling off a bunch of issues with minor details of the ceremony space that your mother was throwing an absolute fit over, an Clover glanced at you with a worried look. You could see her thought process. She was supposed to watch over you, but the wedding would not commence without everything being perfect. Well, it wasn’t like you were going to go anywhere. So Clover quickly followed the maid, leaving you in suffocating silence.

Suffocating was an understatement.

Your heart was trying to beat its way out of your chest in pure fear. You had but a mere fifteen minutes before you would be truly locked in an inescapable prison. If you thought it was hard to breath wearing this dress it was nothing to the looming doom that was mere minutes away. Your eyes flickered to the balcony of your bedroom, the doors had been locked after you had tried running before… but with the cleaning of the manor in anticipation for the wedding, they were no longer barred from use.

Memories of what had happened to you as a result of being caught and dragged back to the manor flickered into your mind. You’d never been in that much pain. Fear of repercussion prickled in your veins, rooting you to where you stood. Eyes catching sight of the tops of the ships harbored, your throbbing heart leaped into your throat.

“I’ll never have another chance,” You whispered to yourself, desperation winning over fear.

Date Published: 11/13/23

Last Edit: 11/13/23

Masterlist | Next

[nutteu]

Gold-digger Oliver

[rambling compilation]

inspired by that one post about oliver fucking every catton available except for felix (still can't stop laughing about it, will find the post later) (EDIT, I FOUND THE POST: HERE). but here we go:

What if, Oliver was a gold-digger, and what if this wasn't his first rodeo? Like, he had done this before and that was why it was easy for him to understand the whims of the wealthy, the filthy rich, because he had experienced how it felt like being an arm candy for some elder man, hiding this from his parents and accumulating wealth and properties he had gotten from his previous sugar daddies and mommies. Especially, he understood how bored and lonely they were, and he learned how to shape himself into something they liked, something they could play with to pass time. It wasn't the first time he had ever been someone's toy, and he didn't mind the notion. Let them think that way, as long as Oliver got what he wanted.

So, with his previous knowledge, he played chess with Sir James, talked about the goddamn ceramic and artifacts scattered all over the estate; had a tea party with Elspeth and Pamela, before she left, dialed up the compliments to the nine because he knew that it would be easier to get Elspeth's attention and interest. It was easy enough, because Sir James was lonely, and Elspeth wanted to be seen and appreciated, made her feel she was still in her youth, brimming with beauty and unattainable to those who desired her.

All the while, he approached Venetia when she offered herself, pushed it further by interrogating her about what she liked, what she wanted to be; ate her out and let the blood stain his mouth, his fingers, and let the memory linger as he pushed more food onto her plate; lay his head on her chest, counting the heartbeat as she told him some complicated equations that they solved together as they giggled and teased each other. And of course, Farleigh and all the chips on his shoulders, his prickly nature which Oliver unearth with brutality and insistence; jerked him off and whispered encouragement, assurance, praises as Farleigh came on Oliver's fingers, let himself submit underneath Oliver's touch as Oliver rode him until he was spent; spending the afterglow trading cigarettes and insults, talked about rich people and how ridiculously out of touch to reality they were, Oliver teasingly offered a sliver of truth to Farleigh about his past with the rich and smiled as Farleigh gaped and laughed; waiting for the sunrise as Oliver promised him a place in the house after he got his name in the inheritance and Farleigh wouldn't need to beg with a bowl anymore.

He charmed everyone and even got Duncan softening a little at him after he offered to cook his own meals, talked about the layout and the history of Saltburn with him, be at awe for Duncan's impeccable schedule and his brutal way of wrangling problems before lunch time. Oliver befriended the maids and other helpers, memorized their names and where they came from, so they wouldn't bat an eyelash if he were to own this estate someday.

Everyone and everything was within his palms, dancing to his tune, except for Felix, who increasingly grew upset because he finally found out that Oliver not only had bedded Venetia, but Farleigh as well, and his parents were smitten by Oliver's encyclopedia of a brain and his endearing twitch of nose, the summer in his eyes. It was just a bad form, that Oliver came by his invitation, yet leaving him out of the loop Oliver had created with literally everyone in this estate but Felix.

Ah, but Felix didn't want Oliver, did he? He called him Ollie, kissed his cheek and his forehead, whined at him and took all of his attention, but he didn't want Oliver. He was just upset that everyone had gotten the attention of his toy, and none was left for him anymore. It wasn't fair, was it? That Felix was the one who brought Oliver here, yet it seemed that everyone had gotten their private time with Oliver, everyone, except for him. So, like he always did, he threw a tantrum, and Oliver sighed in exasperation and tried to fluff it up with Felix, playing into his savior complex by saying that he wouldn't have had this chance of being in Saltburn and knowing everyone if it weren't for Felix. So, really, thank you, Felix, and perhaps, we can spend some time together, yeah?

And Felix, still a little miffed but was willing to go along with Oliver's idea this time, nodded and started planning, getting all excited when he thought about bringing Oliver home, because his mum had called and she sounded sober as well! It would be a surprise for Oliver, that was for sure, and no one else had thought of it, because they only cared about themselves and not to Oliver. Felix was the only one he could call friend, the only one who cared. So, Felix told him to dress up, smiling at the sight of Oliver giggling shyly, and sang until his throat hurt as they drove by the roads.

That was, until Oliver realized where they were going, and begged him to turn back, to stop. Felix thought that maybe Oliver was afraid of reliving the traumatizing memory of his family's downfall, to face his drunken mother and the tombstone of his father. He smiled to himself and reassure Oliver that it was fine, that he'd be there with Oliver and that Oliver could lean on him, could depend on him, for the onslaught of bad memories and pain.

Until-- Felix's world collapsed into itself as Oliver curled into himself, faced with the genial and worried faces of Mr. and Mrs. Quick. Felix almost couldn't speak, his mind a tornado of questions and anger, of regret and disbelief, of rage and disappointment. They still went back to Saltburn, for the sake of the fucking birthday party, but the road to the estate was spent in excruciating silence, interjected by Oliver groveling and apologizing, and Felix stone-walling him because he couldn't think right now, couldn't think past the torrent of hurt that he felt so acutely in his chest.

He left Oliver to his own device once they arrived at Saltburn, ignoring the pang of something when they were greeted by Elspeth, and her face fell when she saw how close to tears Oliver was. How could anyone still wanted to pity Oliver, after what he had done, after the lies he had spewed out so easily to Felix? Or was it just that obvious to anyone but him, but they were too polite to tell that he was a dumbass who got manipulated so easily? Well, no more of that. Felix didn't care about Oliver anymore, everyone could take him because Felix wanted nothing to do with that wretched guy anymore.

Except that he still felt a burning rage within his chest when he saw Oliver being consoled by his parents, saw him smile shyly and hold Elspeth's hand in his, accepting the pat on the side of his face from James. What the fuck did Oliver do to make people this... malleable to him? This- this devoted? God, was Felix like them too, before he knew the truth?

He was hurt-- Oliver was his best mate, and he had lied, and it seemed like he wouldn't get retribution for his sin because everyone was too busy babying him within an inch of his life. Even Venetia and Farleigh only sighed and exchanged looks ladened with secrets as Felix told them the reason he was so agitated before the party. He had expected them to be upset in his behalf, but all Farleigh said was, "Well, it's Oliver, what can you do about it? And I don't think it's about you, Fels. Have you seen your parents with him? Even if you told them the truth, I doubt they'll kick him out of Saltburn."

The worst thing was, that it was true. Because the hours leading to the party, Oliver was stuck to Elspeth's side and occasionally glancing at him, before his gaze skittered away. Felix couldn't believe the audacity of this small, twitchy man. How dare he lied to Felix and not reap what he sow? How dare he bewitched the whole estate and had them by his side, no matter what he did? How dare he have someone else to console him and not Felix? Wasn't he his friend, the one who brought colors to his life, excitement to the dull everyday's life? Was he not the person Oliver was supposed to be faithful to, loyal to a fault? Then what the fuck was Oliver doing in Venetia's room, chuckling gently as she brushed his face with make-up? Had everyone gone crazy except for Felix?

What the fuck was happening?

The scene in the maze still happened, but instead of killing him, Oliver just closed his eyes, let the bottle fall and whispered the last 'I'm sorry' to Felix, before going back to the party, so he could tell Venetia and Farleigh to console the upset Felix. I'd like to make it that Venetia and Farleigh weren't on a witch-hunt for Oliver because, yes, they were charmed, but they also knew what Oliver really was and was entertained by his audacity in swindling Sir James and Elspeth into becoming another one of his walking wallet, making them putty underneath his hands. Of course they were worried about Felix, but really, it was so easy to see and Felix should've seen that coming, no matter how harsh and cold it seemed.

And so, Oliver wasn't kicked out from Saltburn the next morning, spending his breakfast trading stock predictions with James and ignoring Felix's burning stare in front of him. He still got the Cattons' attention and, eventually, money, even if Felix wasn't one of them. It was alright, this was something Oliver had done before, and he knew how to play it even with a few pieces gone from the board. He could still do whatever he wanted with these filthy rich people, and it was okay that Felix hated him. At least, Felix would still be here, confined within the estate and, later on, the campus, where Oliver would be there as well.

Slowly, he'd try to reconcile with Felix, because he, too, knew what Felix truly wanted. Perhaps, later on, he'd change his plan, according to the chess board, take off some figures out of the board and continuing his plan to make Felix forgive him. But not now, when he had other agenda, and he was confident that his name would be within the Cattons' will by next summer. Of that he was sure.

(No happy ending for Felix because he ought to suffer once in a while, also because I got too lazy typing this lol. Hope you enjoy!)

[thetraumaking]

The Accursed Crown

Child soldier program within the Fire Nation. Princess Ursa will be having the first grandchild of fire lord Azulon, and as a gift, he sends his son, prince Ozai, to find an appropriate bodyguard for the mother of the nation.

After prince Zuko was born, princess Ursa became pregnant once more.

When she gave birth to her second. Not only did she suffer from a burn from the newborn, she didn't feel the motherly love she felt for her firstborn to her second. She couldn't hold her or even look at her. But she's not a cruel woman, so she found a wet nurse and let the other woman raise her. Well, that was the plan until for a whole day straight the baby girl wouldn't and couldn't stop crying. Even Ozai heard it and came to yell at Ursa for failing as a mother.

When the child had finally shutten up, Ozai turned to see the young guard gently holding the baby.

From that day onward, you, who was nothing but a child soldier, became the guard, the nursemaid, and mentor for the new princess.

Syllabus

Chapter 4: The Older Women, Our Mothers

Ursa liked looking at you.

Her eyes would trail behind you as you went through your daily routine. From sunrise to sundown, it’s just her, you, and her son.

As much as she loves her son, the rare moments that she shares with you are treasured. It’s adorable how shy you get whenever she would show her affection to you through hugs and kisses.

She thinks that it’s due to your young age, no matter what training you went through prior to your meeting, that you are quick to get embarrassed. Shying away from her touch and avoiding eye contact.

No matter how long you’ve been together or how old you’ve become, she couldn’t help but adore you.

You may never know, but you are dear to her.

She holds you close to her heart.

In this cold, hollow palace, it's you who brings her solace.

It’s you who provides her comfort and any sense of warmth.

And just as how you were her saviour, she believes that she was yours.

Once more, she was in labour. And fortunately, unlike her first, everyone was prepared. When her water broke early in the morning, you and the maids were quick on your feet.

Unlike her first born, this one was more painful. She could tell this one would be a stubborn one from how close the contractions were.

The pain was so intense that she couldn’t reach out to you. She was too busy doubling over and crying to her heart's content.

After five hours, with shaking arms, freshly burnt thighs from the child, and tears that freely fell like waterfalls, the fire nation welcomed their new princess.

As the palace doctor brought her newborn child to her, Ursa couldn’t help but feel resentment towards the new life. She didn’t want another child, one was enough, Zuko was enough.

The tears that now fell were not of joy nor of love, but of despair.

She didn’t want to hold her, she didn’t even want to look at her.

Ozai praised her, who he named Azula in his father’s honour. A wicked smile on his face as he preached on how he alone could father such greatness. He even had the gall to say that you could be his bastard. After seeing how quick you were to learn new techniques, and knowledge, and how fast you mastered your bending.

The man had no shame.

That prideful beast.

She looked to the side, her eyes on the bundle in the arms of its father.

That poor child will surely suffer within these castle walls. Her birth was a curse for the both of them.

Letting out a breath of air, she wished you were beside her.

The moment the doctor came, you were tasked to take her son out while she was in delivery. She hugged herself. It would have been at least a bit more bearable if it were you in place of Ozai’s.

Once Ozai left to retire for the day, she ordered the maids to take the child and to call you and Zuko. You stood by as she fell asleep with her child in her arms. Embracing him with all the love a mother has for her child.

The next day, she was awoken by a sudden swing of the doors. They slam violently against the walls as Ozai marches in with fury in his eyes.

“What’s wrong with you!” He shouts as the torches begin to roar awake, the flames intensifying with each word he spewed. “How could you lie here when your child has been crying out in hunger! You pathetic excuse of a mother!”

He then points to the maid who wheeled Azula in her crate. Crying, red face stained with tears, her tiny body tense in her bundle.

As Ozai yelled and degraded her, she tried to soothe the now-wailing Zuko, who had been startled awake by his father’s shouting.

It was getting too much for Ursa: her crying son, the insults from Ozai, and the non-stop croaked yells of the child that was in her crib. She wanted all of them to stop. She’s not a cruel woman, unlike what Ozai has been insinuating since barging into her room, she did order a maid to find a wetnurse, someone who will care and feed the newborn.

How would she have known that the child wouldn’t take to the hired woman. Why must she suffer due to the unforeseen? Why must it be always her that must go through the hardship of life?

Her eyes began to sting as tears began to well up.

Just as she was about to break down, one of the three sources of her panic had subsided.

Even Ozai has noticed the sudden shift. Much like untying a knot, the tension unwound, slowly but steadily.

Ozai looked back to see you gently cradling the baby. She breathed heavily with her eyes closed as you rubbed her tears away.

The room was left to only Zuko whining, hugging his mother’s side as she continued to soothe him.

Ozai looked at you in interest before an idea began to brew behind his eyes. His anger calmed down, he sent you a smile. “I thank you for bringing peace within my palace.” He walks towards you, “A reward must be in order. I believe a promotion will find your fancy. Starting today, you will be the guardian of the princess. Do make me proud and train my daughter into a fine bender, one who will surely bring honour to our nation.”

He spares a glance to his wife, “Your talents are being wasted playing guard. The palace is secure and we have the royal guards on standby.” His eyes zeroed in on you as he guided you to leave the room, “Tell me, 076, do you know who your parents are?”

The doors close behind you as you walk beside him with the baby still in your arms, “No, my lord. But I was told by the nannies that my mother was taking care of me before I was saved. I am ashamed to admit but I don’t believe I have a father…”

That same smirk when he held his daughter appeared, “That’s quite alright. It makes sense why you wouldn’t have a father.” He places his large hand on your shoulder as the three of you continue your walk towards the throne room.

Despite having the prince walk beside you so close, it doesn’t feel as half as suffocating as when you’re just standing near Ursa. Maybe the theory of you being weary of being in close quarters with others due to your past training was not true. Maybe the strange feeling of being akin to prey is just reserved for when you’re with the older woman.

“I can tell that, despite your origin of birth, you were made for greatness.” His words were warm yet the grip on your shoulder and the glint in his eyes told you otherwise. “I see myself in you, my child. Half your blood may be tainted by that woman, but the remaining is pure and noble.” The way he looked at you was crazed, hungry.

“I can tell that your father was and is a great man of power. How else can you be so blessed? It is only fate that you were taken in. Your destiny to stand by the throne and swear your loyalty to the crown.” He pulled you into his side.

As he said, it is your sworn duty to serve.

That is what you were trained for.

Your destiny to serve the crown.

The Accursed Crown.

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Before I Go chapter 3

Note: final chapter! Follow up to chapter 1 & chapter 2.

Warnings: angst/fluff, mention of death.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You went looking for your husband.

wordcount: 2k 

Masterlist

You had lost count of how many sunrises it had been since you had last kissed Sihtric. You hadn't received any news from him nor his whereabouts, and the only thing you caught wind of after some time was that Bebbanburg had been sacked, and related to that event many people had died after they had been trapped in a cave, or something like that. It had caused grave dread in your heart, as you had no idea if your husband was still alive at this very moment. 

And so you prepared yourself to travel to Bebbanburg, in the hopes to find out more about what had happened and, most importantly, to find your husband. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you travelled on horseback, alone in the night, like a fool. You knew Sihtric would be furious if he found out that his lady, the Lady of Dunholm nonetheless, was crossing the lands on her own and risking her life in order to reach him. But if you and your husband had anything in common, it was being reckless and impulsive at times, as well as doing whatever it may take to reach each other.

You arrived at Bebbanburg after a day's travel and found the town trashed and rather deserted. Those who had survived the attack and had not been injured were slowly cleaning up the ravage that had been left. You looked around and quickly realised you saw no one you recognised. But the people surely recognised you as Sihtric's lady, and they were fast to approach you.

'Have you come to aid us?' an elderly woman asked and hope glimmered in her eyes.

You looked around again, confused and terrified, because where was Uhtred? Where was Finan? Or Ingrith? And where was your husband? Why weren't they here, rebuilding the town?

'There has been a battle,' an old man said, noticing your concerned and puzzled eyes, 'the battle of Bebbanburg.'

'When was this?'

'A few days ago, my lady,' the man answered, 'we heard we won, but… the men have yet to return.'

You felt your heart sink when no one knew where exactly the battle had taken place. If the battle had been days ago and the warband still hadn't returned, it either meant there were no survivors after all, or the battle had occurred far away from Bebbanburg, and who knows how many wounded warriors would not survive the journey back home, which could include your own husband.

You found shelter inside the castle. Whatever was left of food and drinks was provided to you by the maids who had survived, and one of them was able to tell you that she had seen your husband alive and well, together with Uhtred, Finan and Ingrith, just before the men left for battle. You were told about the Lady Eadgifu and that she was also residing in the castle, but you decided to not go and find her. You were exhausted from your journey, as well as the constant worrying about your husband and your friends, you simply needed to rest before you would do anything rash. Such as climbing on your horse again and searching for your husband without knowing where to start. You needed rest. And a restless night it was.

You were woken up from your slumber the following morning when you heard some cheers erupt outside the castle. Surprised you had managed to sleep at all, you got dressed as quickly as you could and ran outside, towards the commotion. You climbed up on a wooden crate, as more people had gathered outside than you had seen yesterday during your arrival, and you tried to catch a glimpse of what was worth cheering for. 

You held your breath when you realised this had to be the warband that had survived the battle, and everything around you silenced as your blood roared in your ears, and your heart seemed to stop when you suddenly saw Finan. The Irishman was the only one you recognised amongst the men who returned, and he looked distraught. His face was pale with dark circles around his eyes and he overall looked exhausted. A panic began to creep up on you and you felt nailed to the ground when you didn't see Uhtred nor Sihtric, only Finan's traumatised face as he dismounted his horse. 

You forced yourself to climb down the crate you were on and dragged your heavy feet towards Finan, who suddenly looked at you from across the town's square and froze upon seeing you. He shook his head lightly and turned his back towards you, then slumped down on the ground where he sat with his head in his hands. You were already crying, which you only noticed when you tried to get closer to him but your vision became blurred. It felt as if you were barely able to move forward, like a nightmare in which you desperately try to run but an invisible force seems to hold you back and slow you down.

But before you could reach Finan, you suddenly felt two arms gripping you tightly, wrapping around your waist. You were too numbed by your own grief to fight whoever had grabbed you, not a single sound left your mouth as you searched for the strength to scream, and you simply allowed those arms to lift you up and pull you aside. You were turned around by whoever had grabbed you, and as you blinked away your tears you suddenly stared up at the familiar, slightly scarred face you had woken up next to for most of your life. 

Sihtric grabbed your face with his trembling hands and he looked down at you with big and wild eyes, his face pale and almost as exhausted as Finan had looked.

'I… I,' you stammered, eyes wide as if you were looking at a ghost 'I thought you were-'

Before you could continue you were silenced by your husband as he pulled your face towards his to capture you in a desperate kiss, his fingers almost bruising your cheeks, terrified to let go of you to discover you weren't really there. You had no time to even grasp what happened, and before you could kiss Sihtric back, he already stepped back and looked at you again, his trembling hands lightly touching your face all over while his empty eyes darted all over you, and then he suddenly began to cry. 

He pulled you in his arms again and held you tightly, almost to the point of suffocating you while he let his emotions run freely and without shame. You were too stunned to comprehend the situation, and you couldn't remember you had ever seen your husband cry like this. All you could do was wrap your arms around him, after which you both fell down to your knees.

'What… what happened?' you managed to ask, 'Uhtred?'

'Uhtred is wounded,' Sihtric whispered through his tears, 'gravely.'

'And… Finan? He looked-'

'She… she died. Ingrith… she… he- he lost her-' 

You watched your husband gasp for air as his breath hitched, and you held onto him for dear life.

'I'm never leaving you again,' Sihtric cried as he held you, 'I promise.'

After making sure your husband would eat something and drink some fresh water, you prepared a bath for him. He had cleaned up after the battle already, no war traces left except for the wounds and bruises he had earned whilst fighting, but you knew a warm bath would give him back the colour in his face which he had left on the battlefield. And your husband wouldn't be your husband if he didn't ask you to join him in the water, so you did, wanting nothing more than to be close to one another, and you sat between his thighs with your back pressed against his chest and your head leaning back on his shoulder. You sat in silence for a vast moment, you knew that when Sihtric was ready to talk, he would. But until then he was quiet, slowly tracing his fingertips across your bare skin, and you heard him choke up numerous times while he did.

'Tell me,' Sihtric whispered in your ear eventually, his voice unsteady.

'I love you,' you answered.

'Forever?'

'Forever.'

'Tell me again,' his voice finally broke.

You carefully turned around to face him, and you wiped the tears that rolled down his scarred and bruised cheeks.

'I love you,' you whispered, 'forever.'

Sihtric swallowed hard and he took your chin. 'Again,' he pleaded as much as he commanded.

'I love y-' you were silenced with a sudden kiss, and you felt his lower lip tremble as his lips were pressed against yours.

The salt of his tears seeped through, into your mouth, while you kissed each other desperately, as if it was the last moment you would ever have together, and you hushed your husband once his entire body trembled in your arms and his eyes were hurting from crying.

Once calmed down and wrapped in furs, Sihtric told you everything that had happened from the moment he left you in Dunholm. He told you about how Uhtred was banished and how he and Finan had been lured to Uhtred afterwards, only to come back to Bebbanburg and find it raided. You listened with horror to the story of how they struggled to open the sealed cave and found all the townspeople inside dead, and that amongst them was Finan's wife. And your husband wept as he pressed you tightly against his chest, telling you how finding Ingrith was a turning point and made him realise that if he were to survive the battle, he would never leave you again.

'Never,' he said over and over again, 'I'm never leaving you again.'

He then went on to tell you about the battle itself, and how tough it had been. He told you how had been hurt and had fallen down, and he thought that surely that must have been his death, but he managed to fight back and live to see another day while he watched so many others lose their lives. And lastly he told you about Uhtred, how he had fought bravely and would need serious time to recover from his wounds, and how the three of them had agreed that this was their last battle, for it had been too hard and they all realised during the fight that they were not as fast anymore as the younger warriors were. Battles were becoming too risky, and it had become a risk Sihtric did not want to take anymore.

And you both laid there, on the floor of a temporary bedroom in Bebbanburg in front of a burning hearth, naked and wrapped in furs, arms around each other and legs tangled together as you tried to take his entire story in while you could see the stress leave your husband's face as time passed. And after a while, a small smile began to tug at his lips again while his mismatched eyes slowly regained their spark as he looked at you.

'Tell me again,' Sihtric whispered, smiling softly while the tip of your noses touched.

'If you promise me to never go to battle again,' you said.

'This time I promise it.'

'Finally accepting that you are not that young anymore, my love?' you couldn't help but grin slightly.

'No, never,' he chuckled and nuzzled your nose, 'you keep me young, darling, in many ways,' he murmured and kissed your lips, but then became serious again, 'but… it was close this time. I managed to kill the man before he could kill me, but,' he sighed, 'after everything… everything that happened with Finan and Ingrith… I just don't want to leave your side anymore.'

'Promise?'

'I promise. Now… tell me again.'

'I love you,' you kissed him and smiled against his lips.

'Mhm,' he hummed, 'again.'

'I love you,' you giggled, almost shyly when you finally fully recognised your husband again in the man who held you in his arms, 'forever.'

'Forever,' Sihtric smiled and kissed you sweetly.

And you made seemingly endless love throughout the night, until morning came and you travelled back home together, to Dunholm.

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[bookshelf-in-progress]

Marks of Loyalty: A Retelling of Maid Maleen

For the Four Loves Fairy Tale Challenge at @inklings-challenge

Seven years, the high king declared.

Seven years’ imprisonment because a lowly handmaiden pledged her love to the crown prince and refused to release him when his father wished him to marry a foreign princess.

Never mind that Maleen’s blood was just as noble as that of the lady she served. Never mind that Jarroth had been only a fourth prince when he and Maleen courted and pledged their love without a word of protest from the crown. Never mind that they loved each other with a fierce devotion that could outlast the world’s end. A handmaid to the sister of the grand duke of Taina could never be an acceptable bride for the crown prince of all Montrane now that Jarroth was his father’s only heir.

“Seven years to break your rebellious spirit,” the king said as he stood in the grand duke’s study. “More than enough time for my son to forget this ridiculous infatuation.”

“This is ridiculous!” Lady Rilla laughed. “Imprison a lady of Taina for falling in love? If you imprison her, you must imprison me on the same charges. I promoted their courtship and witnessed their betrothal. I object to its ending. I am Maleen’s mistress, and you can not punish her actions without punishing me for permitting such impudence.”

Rilla believed that her rank would save her. That the high king would not dare to enrage Taina by imprisoning their grand duke’s sister. She believed her brother would protest, that the high king would relent rather than risk internal war when the Oprien emperor posed such a danger from without. She believed her words would rescue Maleen from her fate.

Rilla had been wrong. The high king ordered Rilla imprisoned with her handmaiden, and the grand duke did not so much as whisper in protest.

Lady Rilla had always treated Maleen as an equal, calling her a friend rather than a servant, but Maleen had never dreamed that friendship could prompt such a display of loyalty. She begged Rilla to repent of her words to the king rather than suffer punishment for Maleen’s crimes.

Rilla only laughed. “How could I survive without my handmaid? If I am to retain your services, I must go where you go.”

On the final morning of their freedom, they stood before the tower that was to serve as their prison and home, a building as as dark, solid, and impenetrable as the towering mountains that surrounded it. In the purple sunrise that was to be the last they would see for seven years, Maleen tearfully begged her mistress to save herself. Maleen was small, dark, quiet, hardy—she could endure seven years in a dark and lonely tower. Lively, laughing Rilla, with her red hair and bright eyes, was made for sunshine, not shadows. She loved company and revels and the finer things of life—seven years of imprisonment would crush her vibrant spirit, and Maleen could not bear to be the cause of it.

“Could you abandon Jarroth?” Rilla asked.

In the customs of the Taina people, tattoos around the neck symbolized one’s history and family bonds, marked near the veins that coursed with one’s lifeblood. Maleen had marked her betrothal to Jarroth by adding the pink blossoms of the mountain campion to the traditional black spots and swirls. Color indicated a chosen life-bond, and the flowers symbolized the mountain landscape where they had fallen in love and pledged their lives to each other.

“Jarroth has become part of my self,” Maleen said. “I could as soon abandon him as cut out my own heart.”

With uncharacteristic solemnity, Rilla said, “Neither could I abandon you.” She rolled up her sleeves far to reveal the tattoos that marked friendship, traditionally marked on the wrist—veins just as vital, and capable of reaching out to the world. The ring of blue and black circles matched the one on Maleen’s wrist, symbolizing a bond, not between mistress and servant, but between lifelong friends. “I do not leave my friends to suffer alone.”

When the king’s soldiers came, Maleen and Rilla entered the tower without fear.

*

Seven years, they stayed in the tower.

There was darkness and despair, but also laughter and joy.

Maleen was glad to have a friend.

*

The seven years were over, and still no one came. Their tower was isolated, but the high king could not have forgotten about them.

The food was running low.

It was Rilla’s idea to break through weak spots in the mortar, but Maleen had the patience to sit, day after day, chipping at it with their dull flatware until at last they saw their first ray of sun.

They bathed in the light, smiling as they’d not smiled in years, awash in peace and joy and hope. Then they worked with a will, attacking every brick and mortared edge until at last they made a hole just large enough to crawl through.

Maleen gazed upon the world and felt like a babe newborn. She and Rilla helped each other to name what they saw—sky, mountain, grass, clouds, tree. There was wind and sun, birds and bugs and flowers and life, life, life—unthinkable riches after seven years of darkness. They rolled in the grass like children, laughing and crying and thanking God for their release.

Then they saw the smoke. Across a dozen mountains, fields and forests had been burnt to ashes. Whole villages had disappeared. Far off to the south, where they should have been able to make out the flags and towers of the grand duke’s palace, there was nothing.

“What happened?” Maleen whispered.

“War,” Rilla replied.

Before the tower, Maleen had known the Opriens were a threat. Their emperor was a warmonger, greedy for land, disdainful of those who followed traditions other than Oprien ways. But war had always been a distant fear, something years in the distance, if it ever came at all.

Years had passed. War had come.

What of the world had survived?

*

Left to herself, Maleen might have stayed in the safe darkness of the tower, but Maleen was not alone. She had Rilla, who hungered for knowledge and conversation and food that was not their hard travel bread. She had Jarroth, somewhere out there—was he even alive?

Had he fallen in battle against the Oprien forces? Perished as their prisoner? Burned to death in one of their awful blazes? Had he wed another?

Rilla—who had developed a practical strain during their time in the tower—oversaw the selection of their supplies. They needed dresses—warm and cool. They needed cloaks and stockings and underclothes. They needed all the food they could salvage from their storeroom, and all the edible greens Maleen could find on the mountain. They needed kindling, flint, candles, blankets, bedrolls.

On their last night before leaving the tower, Maleen and Rilla slept in their usual beds, but could not sleep. The tower had seemed a place of torment seven years ago. Who would have thought it would become the safest place in the world?

“What do you think we’ll find out there?” Maleen asked Rilla.

“I don’t know,” Rilla said. “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

*

It was worse than Maleen could have imagined.

Not only was Taina devastated by war and living under Oprien rule.

Taina was being wiped out.

The Taina were an independent people, proud of their traditions, which they had clung to fiercely as they were conquered and annexed into other kingdoms a dozen times across the centuries. Relations between the Taina and the high king of Montane had been strained, but friendly. Some might rebel, but most were content to live under the high king so long as he tolerated their culture.

The Oprien emperor did not believe in tolerance.

Taina knew that under Oprien rule, Taina life would die, so they had fought fiercely, cruelly, mercilessly, against the invasion, until at last they were conquered. The emperor, enraged by their resistance, ordered that the Taina be wiped from the face of the earth. Any Taina found living were to be killed like dogs.

Maleen and Rilla quickly learned that the tattoos on their necks and arms—the proud symbols of their heritage—now marked them for death. They wore long sleeves and high collars and thick cloaks. They avoided speaking lest their voices give them away. They dared not even think in the Taina tongue.

One night as they camped in a ruined church, Maleen trusted in their isolation enough to ask, “If I had given up Jarroth—let him marry his foreign princess—do you think Taina would have been saved?”

Rilla, ever wise about politics, only laughed. “If only it had been so easy. I would have told you to give him up myself. No, Oprien wanted war, and no alliance could have stopped them. No alliance did. For all we know, Jarroth did marry a foreign princess, and this was the result.”

Maleen got no sleep that night.

*

Jarroth had not married.

Jarroth was the king of Montane.

*

The wind had the first chill of autumn when Maleen and Rilla entered Montane City—a city of soaring gray spires and beautiful bridges, with precious stones in its pavements and mountain views that rivaled any in Taina.

Though its territories had been conquered, Montane itself had retained its independence—on precarious terms. Montane was surrounded by Oprien land, and even its mountains could not protect it if the emperor’s anger was sufficiently roused. Maleen and Rilla could not be sure of safety even here—the emperor had thousands of eyes upon his unconquered prize—but they could not survive a winter in the countryside, and Montane City was safer than any other.

“We must find work,” Maleen said, “if anyone will have us.” She now trusted in their disguises to keep their markings covered and their voices free of any taint of Taina.

“The king is looking for workers,” Rilla said with a smile.

Even now, Rilla championed their romance, but Maleen had grown wiser in seven years. Jarroth’s father was no longer alive to object, but a king—especially one surrounded by enemies—had even less freedom to marry than a crown prince did. Any hopes Maleen had were distant, wild hopes, less real than their pressing needs for food and shelter and new shoes.

But those wild hopes brought her and Rilla at last to the king’s gate, and then to his housekeeper, who was willing to hire even these ragged strangers to work in the king’s kitchen. The kitchen was so crowded with workers that Maleen and Rilla found they barely had room to breathe.

“It’s not usually like this,” a fellow scullery maid told them. “Most of these new hands will be gone after the wedding.”

Maleen felt a foreboding that she hadn’t felt since the moment the high king had pronounced her fate. Only this time, the words the scullery maid spoke crushed her last, wild hope.

In two weeks’ time, Jarroth would marry another.

*

As Maleen gathered herbs in the kitchen garden—the cook had noticed her knowledge of plants—she caught sight of Jarroth, walking briskly from the castle to a waiting carriage. He had aged more than seven years—his dark hair, thick as ever, had premature patches of gray. His shoulders were broader, and his jaw had a thick white scar. There was majesty in his bearing, but sorrow in his face that was only matched by the sorrow in Maleen’s heart—time had been unkind to both of them.

She longed to race to him and throw her arms around him, reassure him that she yet lived and loved him. A glimpse of one of her markings peeking out from beneath a sleeve reminded Maleen of the truth—she was a woman the king’s enemy wanted dead. She could not ask him to endanger all Montane by acknowledging her love.

Sensible as such thoughts were, Maleen might still have run to him, had Jarroth not reached the carriage first. When he opened the door, Maleen saw the arms of a foreign crown—the fish and crossed swords of Eshor. The woman who emerged was swathed in purple veils, customary in that nation for soon-to-be brides.

Jarroth bowed to his betrothed, then disappeared back into the palace with his soon-to-be wife on his arm.

Maleen sank into a patch of parsley and wept.

*

Rilla was helping Maleen to water the herb gardens when the purple-veiled princess of Eshor wandered into view.

“Is that the vixen?” Rilla asked.

Maleen shushed and scolded her.

“Don’t shush me,” Rilla said. “Now that I’m a servant, I’m allowed the joy of despising my betters.”

“You don’t need to despise her.” She was a princess doing her duty, as Jarroth was doing his. Jarroth thought Maleen dead with the rest of her nation.

“I will despise who I like,” Rilla said. “If I correctly recall, the king of Eshor has only one daughter, and she’s a sharp-tongued, spiteful thing.” She tore up a handful of weeds. “May she plague his unfaithful heart.”

Since Maleen could not bear to hear Jarroth disparaged, she did not argue, and she and Rilla fell into silence.

The princess remained in the background, watching.

When their heads were bent together over a patch of thyme, Rilla murmured, “Will she never leave?”

“She often comes to the gardens,” Maleen said. “She has a right to go where she pleases.”

“But not to stare as if we each have two heads.”

Out of habit, they glanced at each others’ collars, cuffs, and skirts. No sign of their markings showed.

“We have nothing to fear from her,” Maleen said. “In two days, the worst will be over.”

*

A maid came to the kitchen with a message from the princess, asking that the “pretty dark-haired maid in the herb garden” bring her breakfast tray. Cook grumbled, but could not object.

Maleen tried not to stare as she laid out the tray. The princess sprawled across the bed, her feet up on pillows, her face unveiled. Her height and build were similar to Maleen’s, but her hair was a sandy brown, and her face had been pockmarked by plague. Even then, her eyes—a striking blue, deep as a mountain lake—might have been pretty had there not been a cunning cruelty to the way they glared at her.

“You are uncommonly handsome for a kitchen maid,” the princess said. “You have not always been a servant, I think.”

Maleen tried not to quake. There was something terrifying in her all-knowing tone. “I do not wish to contradict your highness,” Maleen said, “but you are mistaken. I have been in service since my twelfth year.”

“Then you have been a servant of a higher class. Your hands are nearly as soft as mine, and you carry yourself like a princess.”

“Your highness is kind.” Maleen nodded her head in a quick, subservient bow, then scurried toward the door.

“I did not dismiss you!” the princess snapped.

Maleen stood at attention, her eyes upon her demurely clasped hands. “Forgive me, your highness. What else do you require?”

“I require assistance that no one else can give—a service that would be invaluable to our two kingdoms. I sprained my ankle on the stairs this morning and will be unable to walk. Since I cannot bear the thought of delaying the wedding that will bind our two nations in this hour of need, I need a woman to take my place.”

A voice that sounded much like Rilla’s whispered suspicions through Maleen’s mind. The princess was proud and her illness was recent. She would not like to show her ravaged face to foreign crowds, and by Montane tradition, she could not go veiled to and from the church.

Knowing—or suspecting—the truth behind the request didn’t ease any of Maleen’s terror. “No!” she gasped. “No, no, no! I could never…!”

“You will!” the princess snapped, sounding as imperious and immovable as the high king on that long ago day. “You are the right build—you will fit my gowns. You have a face that will not shame Eshor. You are quiet and demure—you will be discreet.”

“I will not do it! It is not right!” To marry the man she loved in the name of another woman, to show her face to the man who thought her long dead, to endanger his kingdom and her life by showing him a Taina had survived and entered his domain, it was—all of it—impossible.

“It is perfectly legal. Marriage by proxy is a long-standing tradition. I will reward you handsomely for your trouble.”

As she had defied the high king, so Maleen defied this princess. With her proudest bearing, Maleen looked the princess in the eye. “I will not do it. You have no right to command me. You will find another.”

“If I do,” the princess said, “there is an agent of the Oprien empire in the marketplace who will be glad to know the king of Montane harbors a fugitive from Taina.”

Maleen’s blood ran cold.

The princess smirked—a cat with a mouse in its claws. “If you serve me in this, no one ever need know of your heritage. I will even spare your red-haired friend. Do we have a bargain?”

Maleen bowed her head and rasped, “I am your servant, your highness.”

*

That night in their shared quarters, Rilla kept Maleen from bolting.

“We must flee!” Maleen said. “She knows the truth! If we are gone before dawn—“

“She will alert the emperor’s agent and give our descriptions,” Rilla said. “Nowhere will be safe.”

“If Jarroth sees me!”

“Either he will recognize you, and you’ll have your long-awaited reunion, or he won’t, and you’ll be well rid of him.”

“He could hand me over to the emperor himself. He is king and has a duty—“

If you think him capable of that, you’re a fool for ever loving him.”

Maleen sank onto her cot, breathing heavily. Tears sprang from her eyes. “I can’t do it. I’m too afraid.”

“You’ve lived in fear for seven years. I should think you well-practiced in it by now.”

“Will you be quiet, Rilla?” Maleen snapped.

Rilla grinned.

But she sank down on the cot next to Maleen and took Maleen’s hands in hers. With surprising sincerity, she said, “We can’t control what will happen. That’s when we trust. Trust me. Trust heaven. Trust yourself. Trust Jarroth. All will be well, and if it’s not, we’ll face it as we’ve faced our other troubles. You survived seven years in a tower. You can face a single day.”

What choice did she have? What choice had she ever had? She loved Jarroth and would be there on his wedding day, dressed as his bride. What came next was up to him.

Maleen embraced Rilla. “What would I do without you?”

“Nothing very sensible, I’m sure.”

*

The bride’s gown was all white, silk and lace, with a high collar, full sleeves, and skirts that hid even her shoes. Eshoran fashions were well-suited for a Taina bride.

When she met Jarroth on the road to the church, he gasped at the sight of her. “My…”

“Yes?” Maleen asked, heart racing.

He shook his head. “Impossible.” Meeting her eyes, he said, “You remind me of a girl I once knew. Long dead, now.”

The resemblance was not great. Seven years had changed Maleen. She was thinner, paler, ravaged by near-starvation and hard living. She had matured so much she sometimes wondered if her soul was the same as the girl’s he’d known. Yet the way her heart raced at the sight of him suggested some deep part of her hadn’t changed at all.

Jarroth took her hand and they began the long walk to the church, flanked on both sides by crowds of his subjects. So many eyes. Maleen longed to hide.

She glanced at her sleeve, which moved every time Jarroth’s hand swung with hers. “Don’t show my markings,” she murmured desperately.

Jarroth glanced over in surprise. “Pardon?”

Maleen looked away. “Nothing.”

At the bridge before the cathedral—the city’s grandest, flanked by statues of mythical heroes—the winds over the river swirled Maleen’s skirts as she stepped onto the arched walkway.

“Please, oh please,” she prayed in a whisper, “don’t let the markings on my ankles show.”

At the door to the church, she and Jarroth ducked their heads beneath a bower of flowers. She felt the fabric of her collar move, and placed a hand desperately to her throat. “Please,” she prayed, “don’t let the flowers show.”

“Did you say something?” Jarroth asked.

Maleen rushed into the church.

She sat beside him through the wedding service—the day she’d dreamed of since she’d met him nearly ten years ago—crying, not for joy, but in terror and dismay. He had seen her face and did not know her. He believed her long dead. She was so changed he did not suspect the truth, and she didn’t dare to tell him. Now she wed him as a stranger, in another woman’s name.

When the priest declared them man and wife, Maleen dissolved into tears. He took her to the waiting carriage and brought her to the palace as his bride. Maleen could not bear it. She claimed fatigue and dashed in the princess’ chambers as quickly as she could.

She threw the gown, the jewels, the petticoats on the floor beside the bed of the smiling princess. “It is done,” she said. “I owe you no more.”

“You have done well,” the princess said. “But don’t go far. I may have need of you tonight.”

*

That evening, Rilla wanted every detail of the wedding—the service, the flowers, the gown, and most of all, Jarroth’s reaction.

“You mean you didn’t tell him?” she scolded. “After he suspected?”

“How could I? In front of those crowds?”

“You’ll just leave him to that woman?”

“He chose that woman, Rilla.”

“But he married you.”

He had. It should have been the happiest moment of her life. But it was the end of all her hopes.

After dark, a maid summoned Maleen to a dressing room in the princess’ suite. The princess—queen now, Maleen realized—sat before a mirror, adjusting her customary purple veils. “You will remain here, in case I have need of you.”

The hatred Maleen felt in that moment rivaled anything Rilla had ever expressed. Not only did this woman force her to marry her beloved in her place—now she had to play witness to their wedding night.

The princess stepped into the dim bedchamber—her ankle as strong as anyone’s—leaving Maleen alone in the dark. It felt like the tower all over again—only without Rilla for support.

What a fool the princess was! She couldn’t wear the veil forever—Jarroth would see her face eventually.

There were murmurs in the outer room—Maleen recognized Jarroth’s deep tones.

A moment later, the princess scurried back into the dressing room. She hissed in Maleen’s ear, “What did you say on the path to the church?”

On the path?

Her stomach sank at the memory. She could say only the truth—but the princess wouldn’t like it. “My sleeve was moving. I prayed my markings wouldn’t show.”

Another moment alone in the dark. Another murmur from without, then another question from the princess. “What did you say at the bridge?”

“I prayed the markings on my ankle wouldn’t show.”

The princess cursed and returned to the bedchamber.

When she came back a moment later, Maleen swore the woman’s eyes sparked angrily in the dark. “What did you say at the church door?”

“I prayed the flowers on my neck wouldn’t show.”

The princess promised a million retributions, then returned to the bedroom.

The next time the door opened, Jarroth loomed in the threshold, a lantern in his hand. His eyes were wild—with anger or terror or wild hope, Maleen couldn’t begin to guess.

He held the lantern before her face. “Show me your wrists.”

Maleen rolled up her sleeves and showed the dots and dashes that marked the friendships of her life.

“Show me your ankles.”

She lifted her skirts to reveal the swirling patterns that marked her coming-of-age.

“Show me,” he said, his eyes blazing with undeniable hope, “the markings around your neck.”

She unbuttoned the collar to show the pink flowers of their betrothal.

The lantern clattered to the floor. Jarroth gathered her in his arms and pressed kisses on her brow. “My Maleen! I thought you dead!”

“I live,” Maleen said, laughing and crying with joy.

“And Rilla?” he asked.

“Downstairs.”

He put his head out the door and called for a maid to bring Rilla to the chambers. Then he called for guards to make sure his furious foreign bride did not leave the room.

Then he and Maleen began to share their stories of seven lost years.

*

The pockmarked princess glared at Jarroth and Maleen in the sunlit bedchamber. “You are sending me back to Eshor?”

“I have already wed a bride,” Jarroth said. “I have no need of another.”

The princess spat, “The emperor will be furious when he knows the king of Montane has wed a Taina bride.”

“Let him hear of it,” Jarroth said. “Let him go to war if he dares it. The people of Taina are always welcome in my realm.”

Jarroth played politics better than Rilla could. A threat had no power over one who did not fear it, and Eshor risked losing valuable trade if Montane fell to war with Oprien. The princess never spoke a word.

*

Maleen wandered the kitchen gardens with Rilla and Jarroth, luxuriating in the fragrance of the herbs and the safety of their love and friendship.

“Is this wise?” Maleen asked. “To put all the people at risk over me?”

“Over all the people of Taina,” Jarroth said. “My father was monstrous to tolerate it.”

“We will have to tread carefully,” Rilla said. “No need to provoke the emperor. No need to reveal his bride's heritage too soon."

"We can be discreet," Jarroth said. "But what shall we do with you, Lady Rilla?”

Rilla bowed her head in the subservient stance she’d learned as a kitchen maid—but there was a sparkle of mirth in her eyes. “If it pleases your majesties, I will remain near the queen, who I am bound by friendship to serve.”

Maleen took her friend’s hand and said, “I would have you nowhere else.”