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spngi · 2 months

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My tears ricochet | mafia!carlos sainz jr x reader

Prologue | part 1 | part 2

Part 3

summary: Mr. and Mrs. Sainz lived in a dream for many years, now everything is falling apart and they need to deal with their feelings

warnings: Grammar mistakes, mentions of violence, Carlos is an idiot, mentions of cheating, sexual content

It's already late when I decide to leave the bedroom at last, I clean myself and try to clean up all the remnants of that day, as if hot water and the freshness of lavender were going to prepare me to expel a guest who was not welcome.

Lando was right earlier, Carlos was playing with me and I couldn't let him win, not without fighting first.

I go down the stairs slowly, my bare feet echoing on the floor. I don't need to get ready for this, I don't need my armor of dresses and heels this time. I'm in my own house and that's why I could wander around barefoot in my pijamas set giving orders and being respected. I didn't need to sit on a couch waiting, in a place where no one respected me like the woman in front of me.

"Oh, you're still there" I smile coldly when I get to the last steps of the stairs. "He forgot about you there?"

She stares at me and doesn't know how to answer or if she should answer, I observe her figure trying to understand which of her parts caught Carlos' attention. Straight blond hair or black eyes or the way she just looks like a helpless lady sitting there.

"He had an important meeting," she finally replies, her voice sounds around the room in an annoying way.

"The code for beers and poker" I look at my nails and sigh "boys' moment or something like that, you know how it is"

"Carlos wouldn't lie to me" she defends herself and I can't help but smile when I sit in the big armchair in front of her, the armchair that used to sit with Carlos and read books together.

"I don't think we're talking about the same Carlos... Don't forget, girl, you're talking to his wife, why can't a man who keeps a mistress lie?" My eyes are cold when I stare at her. "You're just playing the role of a fool waiting for him"

Martina still looks at me insecure, she tries not to listen to what I'm saying but I still see the slight doubt in her look.

"Why don't you see it for yourself? The third door on the left going up the stairs" she thinks for a few seconds with my words and then finally raises the search for carlos.

I let myself relax in the armchair, enjoying the moment. Carlos was so predictable, a man of habits and he couldn't leave them. We had many habits, the nights of date on Thursdays, Sunday mornings of laziness and followed by the night with card games, brunch in our favorite restaurant every Thursday. And of course we had our moments alone, and for Carlos the Wednesday nights were intended for gambling and drinks with the guys.

I don't need to wait long to be able to hear the hurried steps and the loud voices getting closer. I can't help but smile, it's restorative to know that I managed to hit Carlos in his own game, and even more restorative to see his mistress running down the stairs avoiding his calls, she passes like a hurricane through the house going towards the exit and when Carlos finally reaches the end of the stairs the big entrance door hits in a loud sound, announcing the girl's exit.

I squeeze my eyes to the noise, Carlos stays there looking at the door as if he thought about what to do, whether he should run after it or stay. He stays, runs his hands through his hair and then turns around, he sees me and seems surprised to have me there.

"Whet did you say to her?" He tries to connect the facts and walks towards me.

I arch my eyebrows at his suggestion. "I could ask you the same thing, since it was from you that she was running, dear"

"Y/n" he calls impatient, trying to gather some confession of mine.

"Do you really think i would waste my time with her, Carlos? I'm not you to do that."

He snorts angry with himself, rubs his face with his hands and remains there, standing in front of me in the living room, his eyes stopped, watching nothing in the room.

"We ordered food for dinner, you could join us if you want," he says, and his invitation is strange.

He doesn't expect me to answer, so he turns around and goes back to the stairs.

My smile increases, the realization of this moment shows me what I needed to know the most at this moment.

Carlos didn't love that woman.

Not when he let her go without any problem, not when at no time did he think about going after her, when he didn't even bother to open the door to see where she was.

Carlos didn't love her, it could not mean anything or it could mean that I could still make him love me again.

It would be much easier when you don't have a competitor.

I get up from the armchair, smooth the long blue robe that goes down to my ankles and go up the stairs behind Carlos.

I smile as I approach and listen to the laughter and loud talk of the men, the house seemed alive in moments like this. I knoll on the door and then enter the room reserved for games, Carlos and the boys sitting at the table playing cards with beers in hand.

They smile when they see me enter the room.

"Mrs Sainz, can you ask your husband to stop stealing in the game, please?" One of them asks and I smile.

"I can guess who is winning then..." I joke and take the opportunity to get closer to the table where they are.

"Stealing," says Charles with a frowned forehead staring at the cards in his hand.

"Don't mind, they're terrible losers." Carlos grumbles concentrated on his game, I stop behind him and observe the cards he has in his hand.

"Good game" I whisper in his ear and walk away to get a beer for me.

I join their poker game, laughing with the comments made and happy to be there. Those people had become part of our family over time, not only because they were part of all Carlos' business but because they followed our history and were there sharing several of these special moments.

The night passes quickly, between several matches and the boys taking each other's foot, it is noticeable to my eyes that Carlos avoids contact with me and only speaks eventually, when he is called in the conversation.

When everyone leaves and there is only the two of us left in the room, I watch him from the other side of the table, the clear distance between the two of us. His invitation today was empty, I was there but he didn't crave my company and I could try to live with it.

"Why do you hate me?" I'm finally asking.

"I don't hate you," he replies, not taking the trouble to take his eyes off the beer bottle in his hand and I can't help but snort his answer.

"You can't even sit next to me carlos" I point to the table between us and get up to get close to him "you don't even look into my eyes when answering me"

He raises his head and looks me in the eyes, trying to prove a point like a child. I close the distance between us, sit on his lap and watch how tense he gets. "You wouldn't be doing this to me if you didn't hate me" I whisper to him, take the beer out of his hands and take a sip.

"Are you talking about the divorce?" He asks and I deny it with my head and lean over to put the bottle on the table, his hands hold my waist involuntarily, trying to prevent me from unbalancing.

"I'm talking about what you did today, what you've been doing in the last few weeks..."

"You know things weren't working out between us anymore, y/n," he murmurs.

"You didn't even make an effort to do that, Carlos." I answer and he sighs, lowers his head tired of that conversation. It was as if every time I talked to him I made him bored.

"Did you ever think about how I felt?" I ask him, I hold his face and look him in the eyes. "You pushed me away and betrayed me, and if that wasn't enough, you brought your mistress to our home."

"Don't bring Martina to this story, our problems are between the two of us"

"Well, I think I can bring it down in history, Carlos. Since she has become one of our problems" I breathe and lean closer to him "how would you feel if I did the same? If I found a man and let him touch me in places that only you could? If I bring him to our house, the house we were going to raise our children, and let him lie on the bed that you and I shared?" With every word I say Carlos' grip seems to get more tense, his jaw gets tense and his eyes shine with anger, one of his hands goes down to my thigh, the strong and warm touch on the fabric of the robe. "And even so I wouldn't be able to do that, because just the idea of letting someone other than you touch me makes me want to vomit. And yet you were able to do that."

I allow myself to take advantage of this unique moment of proximity to observe Carlos, he can't find words and stays there thinking, I used to find these episodes funny where he was just thinking and looking at nothing and with his face full of expression, I observe his brown eyes and how his eyelashes stretch, I let my hand go through his well-made beard.

In a sudden movement he takes my hand off his face and kisses me, it's surprising, his hands pull me closer to his body, and hold me against him, his mouth is demanding against mine. My hands are divided between pulling his hair and going down way through his chest, his hands undo the knot of the robe and I let it slide to the floor, leaving the view of my nightgown and skin exposed to him.

It is surprising to have this reaction from my husband when everything I have had from him in recent times was to be removed, from every time I tried to touch or kiss him and I just ended up being dismissed, and from all the other times I appeared in only one set of lingerie in his office or in the room that he was sleeping I received only a roll of eyes and a request to me to dress coming from him.

I walk away trying to catch my breath and concentrate on kissing the skin of his neck, Carlos' heart shoots under my hand and I can't help but smile at the curve of his neck. His hands reach my ass and I rub my body on his.

Carlos holds my neck and makes me look at him, "never think about letting another man touch you" he declares and kisses me again, gets more and more messy, mouths and teeth, increasingly risky touches and muffled moans, and I know that if I don't stop now I won't have the strength to stop later. And to be able to recover Carlos, I need him desperate for me.

"Carlos" I call him who just murmurs with his mouth on my neck, I pull his chin for him to look at me. "We have only two options here and divorce is not one of them, or you get rid of the girl and have me forever or we will live in this house together without belonging to each other"

"What do you mean by that?" Carlos asks, his voice seems confused and his touch is comforting on my skin, he continues to caress my body, like so many times before we were in this position.

"That or you have me just for you, or you're going to share me with someone" I give you one last kiss on your lips and get up.

I leave my robe there, the short nightgown covering only what is necessary. Carlos still seems in shock when he sees me going out, sitting in his chair, messy hair and fast breathing.

"Good night, my love" I smile at him before leaving for my room.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #cs55 #cs55 x reader #angst #carlos sainz au #f1 fic #mob!carlos sainz #mafia au #mafia!f1 #máfia!carlos sainz

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misguidedasgardian · 1 year

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The Dragon's Mistress (7)

7. Betrothed

MASTERLIST

Summary: You navigate the new elements of your relationship

Warnings: cursing, mentions of war, mentions of death, humiliation, use of the word bastard and traitor, incest, fingering, smut, mentions of non-con, dub-con, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3 k

Notes: sorry for the delay, I was head in with TWS, very isnpired, anyways

Adjusting to the new reality was what you needed to do, but as you hugged yourself, you would take a few moments to mourn once more

Mourn yourself

Bitter tears and whimpers was all that left you once Aemond did. When the high of the fuck had ended, everything fall on you like a bucket filled with cold water

You laid there, unmoving, crying when he took himself off of you. You whimpered in discomfort, it hurt you all over. Your belly, your thighs, your intimacy. You felt his seed dripping from you, wetting your thighs, perhaps it was also your maidenhead

You whimpered again when you say Aemond’s cock red with your blood

“I know the first time is awkward and painful, the next time won’t be”, he said, he didn’t even sound apologetic to you, he said that matter of factly, “but no matter, you will be with child soon enough”

“I will drink the moon tea!”, you threatened, turning on the bed away from him

“You will not seek a maester, and you will not drink any filthy tea!” he demanded, grabbing your shoulder and making you turn to look at him

“Please, I don’t want this, please”, you whined

“Why not?”, he seemed so insulted you wouldn’t want to bear his children

“You seek only to humiliate me!”, you accused, “since you believe my brothers and I are bastards, you seem fit I carry yours? is that it?”, you said bitterly, he only looked at you, mocking you, taunting you

“You believe that is all? that I’m doing all of this for spite?”, he asked, “for some pity revenge against your mother’s whoring ways?”, you got quiet

“You hate me for what my brothers did to you, and for trying to usurp your brother’s throne”, you said simply, and he laugh, it was an unsettling sound, you had never hear it before

“You will not carry my bastard, for I will marry you”, and that sounded like the biggest of threats, “I will make you my Queen, do you not believe it?”

“Your family will never allow it, I’m the daughter of a traitor”, you whispered sadly

“I am to be the King, nobody will make me do anything”, he said, sounding so proud of himself. But then he changed his demeanor. “Let’s have lunch”, he changed the subject, releasing you, you took the sheet underneath and cover yourself with it, as you sat on the bed you felt the pain in your intimacy

“I’m very thankful for the invitation my prince, but I..”, your voice broke, “I wish to go to my chambers”, he looked at you and squint, looking into your face for anything that told him your true intentions, but you only wanted to be alone for a second

“Very well, but I will give instructions for a guard to always trail you, and later today you will move all your belongings here, I will have you sleeping by my side”, he said bluntly, and you barely nodded.

Your dress was torn and destroyed on the floor, and at that point, you didn’t care as you left the room covered only in the bloodied sheet, bloodied with your maidenhead

The guards looked at you wide-eyed as you started crying, walking barefoot down the corridor to your own chambers. You closed the door strongly and bitter tears fell down your eyes

You cuddled in your bed under your sheets, and cried your eyes out

You had never felt so lonely, so sad and destroyed.

You were so tired and mentally drained that you fell asleep.

But a shaky hand woke you up, several hours laters, you opened your eyes to see a young maid there, fear in her eyes

“He is asking for you Lady”, she said, “I need you to go to him, and he commanded to take your things to him”

You were disoriented, you felt numb but yet you sat on the bed and fixed your hair to stand up, you were still naked, and freezing cold since no servant had lit the fire to your room. The gentle maid you had never seen before fetch you a dark green dress, you felt and were dirty and with dried sweat all over you, a mess between your thighs but you didn’t care, she only dressed you and fixed your hair, and then she send you off as more servants entered your chambers to grab your things.

When he saw you enter he was smiling, but as he gazed his smile got erased from his face

Was he not pleased? he had finally had what he always wanted, what he told you he always wanted anyways

You didn’t know that he did not like your swollen eyes and dried tears, and the face of utter defeat on your face, you looked like a shell of your former self

“I have a small surprise for you”, he was holding a cup of wine, he offered to you, you took it and without given it much thought you took a long sip, you needed the numbness

You looked to your left and you could see that the bath room was lit up by candles, a soft smell as much as heat coming from it

“I believe I owe you something”, he whispered, so proud of himself. He guided you through the open door and you found the tub was set up, he lean in and whispered in your ear, his hot breath in your cold shoulder made your skin crawl, “I set it up for you”

Without complaint, you shed your dress and as you struggle to get it off of you, you miss how Aemond flinched when he saw your tainted skin, especially in your thighs. He woke up from his guilt-induced stupor and help you into the tub

The almost boiling water did soothe your aching body and soul, and you sat on the copper bathtub and let yourself relax until your back was against the edge of it

Aemond arranged your hair for it not to touch the water, but rather fall over the edge of it, you opened your eyes to look at him, remembering your position, again

“Thank you for this my prince”, you whispered reluctantly

“Is the least I could do”, he whispered, “for my betrothed”, ah there it was, the title of the week, you said nothing, but you became uncomfortable, and Aemond noticed. “You still don’t believe me”, you didn’t, you didn’t believe he would put you through all of that to marry you, if he wanted to marry you, he would have humiliated you

“I do”, you whispered, fearing you had angered him, “I’m sorry”, now he didn’t seem pleased as you became scared of his anger. As he couldn’t change the subject, he only grabbed a sponge that was nearby from his last bath, he soaked it in the water, and then he pressed it on your shoulder

His movements were rough, not delicate like yours, but still you didn't do anything, you only let him rub your skin raw, cleaning you. He finished quickly with your arms and upper chest, his pupil enlarged, making his eye seem almost black as he disappeared the sponge under the water. He rubbed your belly but his right hand cupped your breast

You whimpered, moving uncomfortably, and the hand with the sponge moved lower, towards your lower belly and then…

You jumped, moving the waters, trying to get away from him

“Please”, you whined

“I need to clean you”, he said gently, and you didn’t want to anger him, so you slowly opened your legs for him

He wasn't rough, he was gentle, but soon the sponge was forgotten and his fingers replaced it instead

“Oh”, you moaned gently, and you opened your legs widely

“That’s my girl”, he whispered, one finger opening his way in you as the others massaged your lips. i was a side of Aemond you haven't seen before, gentle and soft

He soon draws you to a cloud of pleasure with soft movements. He kissed the side of your face and then lowered until he reached your weak spot just under your ear, and then your neck. He teased another of his long fingers inside of you, but that only made you want him more.

You felt something you had never felt before, an intensity, a pleasure that you couldn’t believe possible, a delicious knot was being tightened in your belly and then…

It snapped

You moaned wantonly when you cummed on his fingers, his cruel smile so dark, so proud of himself.

“Let’s get you out of here”, he helped you get out of the bath, and surrounded your body with a thick towel. You felt your legs shaking underneath you, from his kindness, you feared that suddenly he would turn serious, angry, reveal this was some sort of sick joke and take you again.

But it didn’t happen

But he didn’t let you dress, he took your hand softly and guided you to the bed

“You will sleep with me from now on”, he whispered, it wasn’t a surprise, you just nodded

“Yes my prince”, he leaned in, placing a hand on his belly and his other in your back, and kissed your cheek, then under your ear, and then down your neck

“You looked so beautiful when you were cumming around my fingers”, he whispered huskily, you didn’t want to anger him or contradict him, so you just nodded and he walked with you, guiding you until you were laid on the bed, he splayed you out like some sort of masterpiece, as he looked down at you and undressed without taking his eye off of you.

You were prepared for the worst, prepared for the anger and the way he took it out on you yesterday, but instead, once he was naked he positioned quickly over you, he leaned down and trapped your lips on his.

You accepted him between your thighs, your hands even seeked his own body, shakily placing on his shoulders and then you caressed him down your arms. He was thrilled with your initiative, and he showed it by abandoning your mouth and dropping open mouth kisses down your jaw to your chin and then down your neck

“My beautiful little wife”, he whispered darkly, and it sounded like a threat

He accommodated himself between your legs, and to your surprise, it didn’t hurt when he started entering you, you felt yourself wet in between, and it helped as he pushed in. You moaned wantonly, and that seemed to spur him on

“Yes that’s it”, he moaned, grunting over you, he entered you slowly, letting you both feel everything about the other, you felt the thick veins on his cock, and he felt your velvety walls squeezing him like a fist, “you are so tight”

“You are so big”, you said, it was supposed to be an accusation of sorts, but he chuckled darkly, looking down at you. He stayed inside of you for long minutes, until you were the one that needed the friction, and started moving your hips to encourage him to be the one to move.

And he did, he retrieved himself and then he snapped his hips entering you again, that drew a sharp moan from you, having enjoyed it very much when his tip caressed a special spot inside of you that made you see stars for a second.

“Aemond”, you whined, when he started thrusting into you, and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, he almost cummed right then and there, you had called his name!

“Again”, he demanded, snapping his hips again, “say it again”

“Aemond”, you called, and that made him grunt, kissing you roughly, his hands were desperate for you, he grabbed and touched everything he could with his right, as with his left he used it to keep himself from crushing you under him, and his hand cradling your face.

“Fuck, you are mine”, he whined, “say it”, your climax started building in your belly, your mind already foggy with pleasure, so you only said it

“I’m yours”, you moaned softly

You heard the wooden frame crashing against the stone wall with the force of his thrusts. you hugged yourself as your tits were bouncing violently

that is until Aemond removed your hand from your chest, ravishing you with his gaze

“You are so delicious, you're all mine”, Aemond had lost himself in the pleasure you were providing him, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and feeling. This is certainly better that forcing himself on you.

This was ten times better

“I’m going to fill you with my seed, and you are going to give children”, he said, like a prayer, like a promise

“I’m going to give you children”, you said back, moaning underneath him, you brought him towards you, you made him hug you, you were so gone you needed something to settle you, to keep you down on earth.

“I will make you my Queen”, he grunted then, “and I will be the King”

“My King”, you chanted, when a particularly hard thrust made you cum, hard

“Say it again”, he demanded

“My King!”, he fucked you wildly, completely lost in yourself, and you just took everything he gave you, even though the overstimulation was driving you wildly uncomfortable

He finally cummed inside you with a grunt. Seeing his face twisted in pleasure was truly something else completely of what you expected, he looked so handsome, but it was only just a second until he recuperated, his face again plain, serious.

He looked down at you, at your fucked out face, and he smiled, smugly

He retrieved himself from you and felt to the bed beside you, you whimpered when you felt suddenly empty, he grabbed you and stuck you to his side, caressing your shoulder and hair, and he lean in kissing the top of your head,

“I will take my throne”, he said darkly, caressing your back gently, “and you will be right there by my side”.

You got choked, not really knowing what to do or what to think, did he say what you thought he said? Did he intend on marrying you? make you his Queen?

Perhaps this was some sort of perverse justice, the last remaining child of Rhaenyra marrying the last remaining child of Alicent Hightower, your child, if you managed to bring forth a boy, would be the next King of the seven Kingdoms.

“Yes, my prince”, you said obediently, he chuckled

“Good”, he said, pleased with himself, “Very good”

“Why? though”, you asked

“Why what?”, he asked, already sounding annoying

“Why would you marry me?”, you asked, “I’m already yours”

“You don’t want to marry me?”, he asked, this time amused

“Well… I mean yes, It's just…”

“You are a Targaryen princess, and together we will have princes and princesses from the blood of the dragon, dragon raiders, bringing our family to a new era, a golden age for dragons”, in his madness, there was a point to it, you just hugged him tightly

It scared you, but as you learned how he thinks and how he does things, you believed it was better than a stranger

the devil you know… and all that.

You had submitted to him completely, completely to his will.

But as you came to terms to go back to that wretched city, he started making plans for his return, and yours

The letter said to go back within the fortnight, and that is exactly what he planned to do, and better so, as you had submitted completely to him.

He felt realised

And it was not going to be long until you were swelling with his babe, he knew it

The better part of the next week, you spent in his chambers, getting fucked baby him, before this week, you knew nothing of the pleasures of the flesh, and now it seemed like Aemond had unlocked them all.

He enjoyed taking you, and placing you in all kinds of positions.You learned how nice and tender he could be, he would kiss you often, and leave love bites and bruises on your neck and chest, he enjoyed doing so, you only feared they could be seen when you put on a dress.

He hadn't let you dress much.

Only a nightshirt when you ate, and then… it was back at it, again.

And then, one day, without a warning…

“Tomorrow, we will leave for King’s Landing”, he said severely, as he came back from a meeting with Lords he didn’t tell you the names of

“So soon?”, you asked, a fear suddenly hit you

“Yes”, he said

“Wouldn’t it be best if you went ahead…?”, you whined

“What are you implying?”, he asked. These past few days and the inevitability if your upcoming move to the Red Keep has made you think all sorts of terrible things

You were going to go face to face with people who betrayed and hated your mother, you would arrive there as the whore of prince Aemond, the whore because he was bedding you before being married to you, and Queen Alicent, she loaded your mother and your brothers for beings bastards, she surely hated you too, so how was she going to allow you marry his favorite son?

Perhaps if he went ahead, his mother would make him change his mind, perhaps he could forget about you, he already had you, it would not be uncommon if he got bored of you… perhaps you were indeed with child, but if he let you be, you could live a quiet life here in Dragonstone

“WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING?”, he got angry quickly, you should have known he would…

“That I, I‘m not sure they will welcome me”, you said quietly, “For being the daughter of a traitor”, you explained softly, not looking him in the eye

“They will do as I say”, he said firmly, but softly once he realized your true fears, “you had nothing to be frightened of”

“Is just… you know how a court can be”, you continued, he only chuckled

“You are scared of whispers and snickers?”, you didn’t answer

“I don’t think I would like to live as the… laughing stock of the court, that is all”

“He who laughs of their Queen shall lose its head”, he growled, “prepare yourself, for tomorrow, we fly for King’s Landing”

#misguidedmistress #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond the kinslayer #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon aemond #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #targaryen!reader #hbo house of the dragon #house targaryen #house of the dragon

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city-tickles · 1 year

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That’s a fun way to make a song 😂

Source: https://www.deviantart.com/mtjpub/art/MISTRESS-AURORA-S-TICKLE-RESORT-1-Preview-983588254

Where to buy: https://mtjpub.com/publications/info/mistress-auroras-tickle-resort-01

#tickling #ticklish #foot tickling #male tummy tickling #tummy tickling #male raspberry tickling #raspberry tickling #rib tickling #male rib tickling #male upperbody tickling #upperbody tickling #f/m tickling #male tickling #tickle art #tickle art friday

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shadowjackery · 1 year

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The Gladdest Thing Under the Sun

I honestly thought we were supposed to wait a couple of days after the zine’s release, but, heck, everyone else is doing it, so here we are: My contribution to @gensokyozine . I’ve wanted to do this story for a while, so I hope you enjoy!

Descriptive text for the visually impaired or for easy quotation:

PAGE 1

Title: "Shadowjack presents: The Gladdest Thing under the Sun"

Yuuka Kazami, a youkai woman, climbs the cracked stone steps to the ramshackle Hakurei Shrine. She carries a parasol. Up the wooded hill, through the pines, stand the shrine gate and two guardian komainu -- one of whom, Aunn, is alive and waving cheerfully, tail wagging. The plum and cherry trees atop the hill are in bloom. Dandelions sprout as Yuuka passes.

PAGE 2, PANEL 1

Title: "Yuuka Kazami, Flower Mistress of the Four Seasons"

Yuuka wears a summer outfit that evokes the mid-20th century: a vest over a short-sleeved blouse with a necktie, a knee-length pencil skirt, hose and heels, a handkerchief neatly folded in her vest pocket. She also wears glossy leather gauntlets and tight sleeve garters. Her hair is bobbed and curled in 1930s fashion. Her eyes are slitted, like a snake's.

She rests her head on her hand and gazes up at Reimu, rapt. A cat with black and white fur, spotted something like a yin-yang ball, lies nearby, watching her carefully.

PAGE 2, PANEL 2

Title: "Reimu Hakurei, Mysterious Shrine Maiden of Paradise"

Reimu, a human woman with a long ponytail, looks down at Yuuka, sweating slightly. She says, "Um... you know..."

PAGE 2, PANEL 3

Reimu wears her usual red-white shrine maiden robes and ribbons, much patched and threadbare. She is barefoot on the porch, holding a broom.

Reimu: "When you look at me like that, I get the feeling I'm about to be CUT and PRESSED."

Yuuka is shocked. "Oh, my! I would NEVER. A wild flower is best viewed in its natural habitat, always!"

PAGE 2, PANEL 4

Reimu, smiling: "I'm a wildflower?"

Yuuka, grinning: "One of the best!"

PAGE 3, PANEL 1

Reimu greets Yuuka at the entrance to her residence. Yuuka bows formally. She has brought a package, wrapped in cloth with a floral pattern.

Yuuka: "Ojama shimasu."

Reimu: "Hai, hai."

Reimu: "Everything is flowers with you, isn't it?"

Yuuka: "It could hardly be otherwise, dear! I am what I am."

PAGE 3, PANEL 2

Yuuka takes off her shoes, while Reimu places the parasol on the weapons rack by the door. The top shelf holds scrolls, boxes labelled "needles" and "seals", and one Mk 2 hand grenade.

A large sign by the rack says in printed text, "Check ALL weapons before coming in! Including but not limited to: Swords, Axes, Bows, Spears, Guns, Wands, Staffs, Parasols, Lasers, Bombs, Poisons, Curses," and so on.

A handwritten post-it note has been tacked to it, saying, "SEIJA -- Do NOT obey this!"

Another, ripped and faded sign has been taped by the list, adding, "MARISA -- Whatever it is now: NO. I mean it."

There is a bullethole next to the sign.

A different yin-yang cat watches Yuuka.

Reimu says, "So what kind of flower is Marisa?"

Yuuka: "She reminds me of pampas grass."

Reimu: "?"

Yuuka: "One of a few varieties of cortaderia, somewhat resembling susuki."

PAGE 3, PANEL 3

The two women go inside where there's more shade.

Yuuka: "It's a fast-growing, invasive species that can contribute to rat infestations and dangerous wildfires."

Reimu, laughing: "A WEED!"

Yuuka: "But charming in its way."

PAGE 3, PANEL 4, OFFSET

Somewhere, Marisa sneezes.

PAGE 4, PANEL 1

In Reimu's kitchen, the two together prepare afternoon tea, while two different cats beg at their feet. Reimu pours hot water from a large kettle into a cast-iron teapot. Yuuka takes down bowls and cups, and opens up the Japanese-style lunchboxes she brought.

Yuuka has put on an apron that parodies the "piyo piyo apron" worn by Kyoko in the manga "Maison Ikkoku", but instead of a drawing of a baby chick on the chest, it has a drawing of a Dragon Quest slime, saying "suu suu".

Reimu: "You aren't bothered she stole the Master Spark from you?"

Yuuka: "Oh, Marisa didn't steal it from me! She bargained for it fairly."

Reimu stops what she's doing to turn toward Yuuka. "Bullshit."

Yuuka: "It's true! I was curious to learn a little magic, and in exchange for lessons I agreed to trade her a cutting."

Reimu: "Huh!"

Yuuka: "I don't mind helping another gardener to improve their art. She makes it bloom well, doesn't she?"

PAGE 4, PANEL 2

Yuuka carries a tray of sandwiches and snacks out of the kitchen.

Yuuka: "Besides... to cast it ONCE, she needs a device."

A surprise second Yuuka, with long hair, and wearing trousers instead of a skirt, whisks the teapot and cups from Reimu's hands, leaving Reimu with nothing to do.

Yuuka, the second: "But I by myself can cast it TWICE."

PAGE 5, PANEL 1

Only one Yuuka again. Yuuka and Reimu kneel on the veranda to take their tea. One yin-yang cat nearby sprawls asleep in the sun, an orange tabby circles curiously, and a third cat sulks by Reimu.

Reimu: "Okay, then how about... Alice?"

Yuuka: "Ohhh... Alice is special. With her pride and ingenuity, she bears the seed of great potential for power."

PAGE 5, PANEL 2

Yuuka beams with enthusiasm. She says, "Why, if one could but prune away a few of her mortal failings -- such as 'restraint' or 'mercy' -- she could make a truly MARVELLOUS youkai!"

We can now observe that Yuuka's necktie is not knotted, but instead held by a silver woggle marked with a "lily of the valley" emblem.

PAGE 5, PANEL 3

Yuuka blushes happily. "She might even be stronger than I. Wouldn't that be an interesting day?" A heart floats in her words.

Reimu tries to hide her concern. She thinks, "Ganbatte, Alice-san..." But only says out loud, "...er, uh... and Yukari?"

PAGE 6, PANEL 1

Yuuka grins wolfishly. "Yukari and I have an arrangement: She doesn't meddle in my garden, and I don't BURN DOWN hers."

Reimu: "Isn't it weird that a youkai of FLOWERS is so good at fighting?"

Yuuka: "I'm surprised to hear that from a Japanese!"

Reimu: "You say that like you're not."

PAGE 6, PANEL 2

Yuuka: "I am known in many lands, by many names, wherever flowers grow."

Yuuka narrates the scene from the foreground, wearing a woman's kimono and lacquered okobo sandals. She carries now a Japanese-style paper parasol. Her hair is tied up in a bun with a cherry-blossom kanzashi, and she wears a sunflower hair ornament. She is surrounded by flowers: chrysanthemum, hollyhock, and birthwort, and above her spreads blooming sakura.

Yuuka: "Did not your own samurai describe themselves as cherry blossoms, and fight for emperor and shogun under the banners of the chrysanthemum and hollyhock?"

In the midground, two armored samurai clash. The lower-status one has fallen to the ground; the richer has a bloody slash across his left eye. He swings his sword and chops the grounded man's spear in two, but the other is undaunted.

In the background, an army of horse and foot mounts the top of the hill, banners billowing.

PAGE 7, PANEL 1

Now Yuuka narrates wearing a huipil dress with embroidered shawl, and simple leather slippers. Her hair is done in buns, with a Mexican sunflower by her ear. A hummingbird flies near her. Growing around her are Aztec marigold, dahlias, banana yucca, and Mexican hat flowers.

Yuuka: "Across the sea to your east, the mighty Mexica gathered their 'hummingbird' soldiers to send to the 'Flower Wars' (they named them) to gather honor, blood, and sacrifices."

In the midground, the fighters are now two Nahuatl, one poor, one rich with a slashed left eye. The poorer one wears only a loincloth, and has a shield slung over his shoulder. His shield is painted with a hummingbird design, and from it hang a few feathers. The richer soldier wears a full-body jaguar costume, and wields a macuahuitl war-club. The poor soldier leaps to his feet and tackles his enemy, disarming him.

In the background, an army of Aztecs battle below a stepped pyramid and high mountains.

PAGE 7, PANEL 2

Now Yuuka narrates wearing men's doublet and hose, embroidered with fleur-de-lis and tulips, along with knee-high riding boots and gauntlets. Around her neck is a sunflower pendant. On her shoulder perches a falcon. About her feet, and entangling the narration boxes, are red, white, and yellow roses.

Yuuka: "And to the far west, the lords of the English struggled for a choice of kingly roses, red Lancaster or snowy York."

In the midground, the fighters are now two Englishmen, again one poorer, the other richer with the eye injury. The poorer soldier has some mail pieces and a simple brimmed helmet; the richer has plate armor, a full helm, and a shield. The rich fighter is overthrown, his foe about to stab him through the visor with his own arming sword.

In the background, mounted knights charge a line of archers behind wooden stakes. A church or fort stands on hills in the far distance.

Yuuka: "Flowers and War have always been intertwined."

PAGE 7, PANEL 3

We return to Reimu's veranda and cherry trees.

Reimu: "You've seen so many strange places... Do you have a favorite?"

Yuuka: "...it was in the west, in Flanders, perhaps a hundred years ago."

PAGE 8, PANEL 1

Yuuka invisibly narrates: "Such a war, Reimu! The men burrowed like moles, or took to the air like kites."

Above barbed wire, two airplanes spit tracers at each other. It is World War One.

PAGE 8, PANEL 2

Yuuka: "They plowed the earth with cannon, night and day."

Shirtless German artillerymen fire their gun amid sandbags. Something explodes close by.

PAGE 8, PANEL 3

Yuuka: "They slew by shot and poison, fire and blade."

A gasmasked French soldier, armed with pistol and entrenching tool, cautiously moves down a trench. An unseen enemy waits around the corner with rifle and bayonet.

PAGE 8, PANEL 4

Yuuka: "And for no purpose that I could see, no treasure nor slave."

Barbed wire and ruined buildings.

PAGE 8, PANEL 5

Yuuka, narrating: "The destruction was so maniacal it seemed no tree, no blade of grass, would ever grow there again. I thought you humans had gone absolutely mad!"

Yuuka, wearing colorful hat, coat, and umbrella, stands on a windy no-man's land, surrounded by dull mud and broken pieces. Tracer fire crosses the sky, coming from a distant machine-gun nest. She notices, but does not bother to avoid, the few bullets that land near her.

Yuuka, narrating: "But it was I who did not understand your passion. When I learned your true intentions, I was deeply humbled."

PAGE 8, PANEL 6

Yuuka, narrating: "Did you know, Reimu? You can find graves in the wild by how the flowers grow. (Bone meal makes such good fertilizer.)"

The corpse of a soldier lies upon the ruined earth. But near his outstretched arm, a single bluebell, and a few patches of grass, have sprouted.

PAGE 8, PANEL 7

Now there are no bodies, but grass and wildflowers and bumblebees cover the ground. A shattered helmet has a flower growing through the holes.

Yuuka, narrating: "I tell you that after this great war, those fields FLUORISHED with color. Rainbows spilled on seas of green grass!"

PAGE 9

Yuuka, narrating: "And ever after, all through those lands, the people wore blood-red poppies, to remember and give thanks to their kindred who slept below, for this sight they had worked so hard to create."

Yuuka wears early-20th century men's hunting clothes: a sturdy jacket and breeches with knee-high boots and gloves. Her curled hair is in a loose pompadour. As ever, she has a parasol. The sun shines warmly. The hill Yuuka walks down is covered in grass and bright red poppy flowers, stretching on forever. The plants almost completely cover a few remaining pieces of military hardware: a broken machine-gun, a lost helmet, a twist of barbed wire. Yuuka smiles.

Yuuka, narrating: "Tens of thousands of men willingly buried themselves for nothing better than the GLORY of FLOWERS!"

PAGE 9, PANEL 2, INSET

We return to Reimu's veranda. Yuuka clutches a handkerchief, almost overcome with romantic tears.

Yuuka: "It was the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen!"

Reimu stares at her and says nothing.

PAGE 10, PANEL 1

Yuuka says, "Excuse me!", wipes her tears, and takes out her compact to redo her makeup.

Reimu thinks, "Yuuka is one of my oldest friends, but she really is a monster, isn't she? I don't even know how to BEGIN to explain the truth to her... or if I even should."

PAGE 10, PANEL 2

Title: "FLOWERS appearing in this story."

Many cut flowers are arranged on a wooden surface, with identifying captions. In no particular order, they are: primrose, fleur-de-lis (yellow iris), common sunflower, anemone, dandelion, Mexican sunflower, tulip, rose, cempoalxóchitl (Aztec marigold), dahlia, banana yucca, Mexican hat flower, pineapple sage, bee orchid, celandine, Flanders poppy, lily-of-the-valley, bluebell, daffodil, kiku (chrysanthemum), aoi (birthwort), hollyhock, ume (Japanese plum), and sakura (Japanese cherry).

PAGE 10, PANEL 3

In a simplified art style:

Reimu pats Alice on the shoulder and says, "Alice, we sure attract some weird ones, don't we?"

Alice wears her usual workdress and hairband, but also has sturdy explosive ordnance disposal goggles and gloves. She is inserting a stick of dynamite into the back of a Hatsune Miku doll. Other dolls and marionettes (and one teddy bear) fill the room, all with visible dynamite fuzes sticking out of their heads, and all with glowing eyes.

Alice says, "Don't disturb me when I'm setting the explosive charges! If they went off, they could hurt the dolls."

Reimu: "...This is why she likes you, you know."

Alice: "?"

END

#fan comic #touhou #yuuka kazami #reimu hakurei

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goodqueenaly · 9 months

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Do you think Cersei is cognizant of the similarity between her own punishment and that of her grandfather's mistress? Or is she too myopic to see even that?

Oh, the comparison is clear, pointed, and deliberate. Cersei herself details the punishment mandated for her grandfather's mistress just before her own walk begins:

Septa Scolera finished. “So now this sinner comes before you with a humble heart, shorn of secrets and concealments, naked before the eyes of gods and men, to make her walk of atonement.” Cersei had been a year old when her grandfather died. The first thing her father had done on his ascension was to expel his own father’s grasping, lowborn mistress from Casterly Rock. The silks and velvets Lord Tytos had lavished on her and the jewelry she had taken for herself had been stripped from her, and she had been sent forth naked to walk through the streets of Lannisport, so the west could see her for what she was. Though she had been too young to witness the spectacle herself, Cersei had heard the stories growing up from the mouths of washerwomen and guardsmen who had been there. They spoke of how the woman had wept and begged, of the desperate way she clung to her garments when she was commanded to disrobe, of her futile efforts to cover her breasts and her sex with her hands as she hobbled barefoot and naked through the streets to exile. “Vain and proud she was, before,” she remembered one guard saying, “so haughty you’d think she’d forgot she come from dirt. Once we got her clothes off her, though, she was just another whore.”

And lest anyone think Cersei is not internally comparing herself in this moment to that unnamed mistress and their respective punishments, she adds these thoughts:

If Ser Kevan and the High Sparrow thought that it would be the same with her, they were very much mistaken. Lord Tywin’s blood was in her. I am a lioness. I will not cringe for them. The queen shrugged off her robe. She bared herself in one smooth, unhurried motion, as if she were back in her own chambers disrobing for her bath with no one but her bedmaids looking on. When the cold wind touched her skin, she shivered violently. It took all her strength of will not to try and hide herself with her hands, as her grandfather’s whore had done.

Now, Cersei doesn't explicitly think about the candlemaker's daughter again, but I believe the above is more than sufficient to say that Cersei has the historical memory of her grandfather's mistress' punishment front and center in her mind during her own walk (not the least reason because Cersei ends her walk, as that woman was said to have done, by "hobbl[ing] bareful and naked" while making "futile efforts to cover her breasts and her sex with her hands").

Nor does the comparison have to have ended merely because Cersei is no longer literally walking the streets naked. Tywin punished his father's mistress explicitly for sex: as she had been "scarcely one step above a whore", in the words of Kevan, so Tywin would have her "paraded naked through the streets of Lannisport, to confess to every man she met that she was a thief and a harlot". Likewise, Cersei's crime, for which the walk ostensibly served as atonement, was sex, plain and simple - not sex which Westeros considers treasonous or abominable in its own right (that is, her relationship with Jaime, which Cersei maintained to the High Septon did not happen), but sex which her accusers and onlookers considered consensual (put aside the fact that we as readers know that she raped Lancel and that she obviously did not desire a physical relationship with Osney Kettleblack); it's no coincidence, in turn, that her punishment specifically weaponizes her sexuality against her - literally parading her naked for everyone to jeer, taunt, and assault - nor that virtually every insult aimed at Cersei during this walk is sexual in nature. The aim, for both, was not simply to humiliate them but to eliminate them as power figures in their own right, by portraying their sexuality as shameful and criminal: just as Tytos' mistress "walk spelled the end of her power" because "[o]nce we got her clothes off her ... she was just another whore", so Kevan thinks that "Cersei was soiled goods now, her power at an end", because "[e]very baker’s boy and beggar in the city had seen her in her shame and every tart and tanner from Flea Bottom to Pisswater Bend had gazed upon her nakedness". Too, just as Tytos' mistress was marched to the docks after her walk, presumably either to go into exile or to be confined to a likely area for sex work (either way, away from the home she had found with Tytos at the Rock), so Kevan plans to "return [Cersei] to Casterly Rock after the trial and see that she remains there”, with "no further voice in the governance of the realm, nor in Tommen’s education" - exiled, in other words, from King's Landing, to serve her dynastic role as Lady of Casterly Rock instead of her personal (and personally political) role as the king's mother and regent.

#asoiaf meta #adwd #cersei lannister

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yanderes-for-everyone · 3 months

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Hi! I love GL and I LOVE yanderes! I’ve read happy sugar life and I love Amy, are there any more recs that you would give for yandere yuri?

Hello! That’s a great question. Unfortunately, yandere’s are much harder to find in yuri than in hetero works or BL. Because yandere yuri is (comparatively) rare, it might be hard for me to give you recs that fit your exact taste, but here I go…

Games: (All of these are free on Ichio)

It Gets So Lonely Here by Ebi-hime

This game does such a good job of creating an atmosphere. The characters and background have such an old fairytale/folklore vibe. I love it.

Model Employee by nth circle

I LOVE THIS GAME. The yandere is so hot; she’s like a spider weaving her web around the MC. I will say that this game isn't explicitly a Yuri game (but you can choose a feminine or masculine appearance for the mc). If that doesn’t bother you, HIGHLY recommend it.

Crimson Devotion by Ghost Leif

This game has a similar concept to Pocket Lover if you’ve played that, EXCEPT the virtual yandere is a vampire. Adds an extra level of hotness if you ask me. It’s pretty short though (only 4k words) because it was made for a game jam

To My Darling by ixkyu

I had a lot of fun playing this. In this game, we play as the main yandere.

Heartburn by Kathinka

You're on a date with your favorite streamer…what could possibly go wrong? Art style is adorable + both characters are hot.

Comics: Light Spoilers

I’ve found that most Yuri Yandere characters are similar to female Yanderes in hetero comics; They’re all super intense and aren’t really romanticized.

Barefoot Nina:

I liked it. The main yandere wants to be with the mc all the time. She at one point wants the mc to drop out of school so that they can be together 24-7.

I’m More Dangerous Than You:

Whooo…this one’s pretty crazy. The Yandere is pretty much willing to do anything to be with the MC…including kidnapping her.

Love/Death:

This is the gay version of Stalker X Stalker if you’ve read that. Both characters are Yanderes. If you wanted something more lighthearted/comedic, I’d go with this one. Though, it only has 7 chapters ( it’s completed.)

White Angel has no Wings:

TW: Sexual assault and Incest. The Yandere is a really horrible person. However, the mc and her have an interesting dynamic. I have a hate-love relationship with this one.

Your Fretters:

I’ve heard people compare it to White Angel Has No Wings. It’s shorter (with 24 episodes) and in my opinion, is less disturbing. Yandere is super obsessive and isolating.

Getting to Know Grace:

Has a maid/mistress dynamic. We gotta love historical Yuri!

Manipulate My heart

This is similar to I'm More Dangerous Than You. In fact, I think that it's by the same creator.

Toxic Yuri:

Here are some comics where I wouldn’t label the love interest as a “yandere”, but are super toxic/clingy and still might satisfy your yandere cravings:

Maho Ineko to Ibarahime

This one is just a one-shot. Has a love interest who is obsessed with the mc, but there’s no real isolation or killing.

Let’s Kill Your Husband:

This one’s really good. The mc, as the title suggests, helps kill the love interest's husband (who’s abusing her.)

Talk Dirty to Me:

The mc is a dom and the possessive character is the submissive. There are some pretty good smutty scenes, in my opinion. The only thing is that the art style is…mehhh. The two mc’s have Dorito chins. It doesn’t really bother me, but I thought I should let you know.

Living Will:

The mc kills people for a living. Then she meets the love interest.

The Yandere Sister Just Wants me to Bully Her:

I had really high hopes for this one. There are just not enough isekai yuri in the world. Unfortunately, the plot is kinda all over the place. But the art is so pretty and both characters are so hot. As of right now, the love interest has acted somewhat possessive, but nothing I would label as “yandere behavior.” However, that might change considering the title.

That’s all I have for right now. I’ll continue to update this blog with other Yuri comics/games/fan-fics/novels that have a Yandere love interest. Hope this helped.

#saphic #gay #yandere #yuri #girls love #toxic yuri

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droolywhirlpool · 2 months

Text

mistress of the house hypnotized to drop down and worship any of her maid's soft soles when she sees them. they keep the house so clean, there's nothing stopping them from walking around barefoot if they wanted…

#hypnosis #hypnok1nk #hypnotism #mind control #brainwashing #maid #maids #feet #feetish

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robininthelabyrinth · 1 year

Note

i racked my brains while prompts were open but only thought of something at midnight so, as a long time reader, thank you so so much for your fuck i missed it caveat!! so: i really enjoyed your nhs with a twin sister oneshot, and i love the idea of additional sibling aus since this series's sibling relationships are so compelling and good. therefore my prompt is, what if jin zixuan had a twin? im thinking sister but i defer to your inspiration :)

ao3

They weren’t really encouraged to spend time together anymore.

It’d been different when they were children: back then, it had been a matter of pride to show them off. Dragon and phoenix twins were said to be good luck, so their father liked to point to them together, testament to the virility of the father to have son and daughter both at once; meanwhile, their mother liked dressing them up in matching outfits, each one more glamorous than the next.

Their participation in these events was both mandatory, in that they couldn’t leave, and unnecessary, in that they themselves as people weren’t required in any way. They just had to stand there.

They just had to exist.

Back then, they’d thought that it was all right – they might be uncomfortable in their scratchy too-glitzy clothing, but they weren’t alone. They had each other.

And then they got older.

First it was their classes that divided them. Both of them learned to cultivate, but Jin Zixuan was taught the sword and strategy while Jin Xingyin learned how to arrange flowers and manage dinner parties. It was obnoxious, but tolerable…right up until it wasn’t.

“Men and women shouldn’t be too close,” they were told, and never mind their protests that they weren’t men and women but siblings.

“A little girl like that will just spoil all your fun,” Jin Zixuan’s father told him.

“An unsupervised young man can’t be allowed near your girl friends,” Jin Xingyin’s mother sniffed.

“You’d better not have any wayward thoughts about your sister,” Jin Zixuan’s mother scolded him.

“You’re getting more beautiful by the year,” Jin Xingyin’s father told her, playing with a strand of her hair. “You shouldn’t be letting yourself be seen by other men. You never know, after all…anyway, I have plans for you. I won’t have them ruined.”

“Plans?” Jin Zixuan asked when he and his sister huddled together late at night, having slipped out of their rooms, barefoot and without their swords, having edged dangerously along their balconies to meet in the middle. “What plans?”

“He’s going to marry me off to someone, obviously,” Jin Xingyin said. “Don’t you listen to what Mother says?”

“She doesn’t talk to me about any of that,” he objected, feeling obscurely betrayed: was this what his father was talking about when he said that women held their own mysterious counsels to which no man was welcome? “It’s not like there’s any mystery about who I’m going to marry – it’ll be what’s-her-name, the Jiang girl. That’s been agreed on for years.”

“I can’t believe you don’t even know her name. What type of suitor are you?”

“The unwilling type. I don’t know anything about her!”

“She doesn’t know anything about you, either,” she pointed out. “And she’s the one who’s going to have to move all the way here, spend the rest of her life somewhere strange.”

Jin Zixuan blinked. “What’s so impressive about that? That’s what women do when they marry.”

His sister slapped him.

“Hey! Why’d you do that?!”

“Because Mother can’t do it to Father, not really, and if you keep going the way you are, you’ll end up just like him. So why shouldn’t I do it now while I can?”

“I’m not!” Jin Zixuan yelped, then blushed when she shushed him. “I’m not. I wouldn’t be. Mother would kill me…I’m not, am I?”

“Young Mistress Jiang is going to marry you, leave her home and her family for you. It wasn’t your choice, but it’s not hers, either. What sort of home is she going to find with you? One where you’re resentful that she even exists, or one where you welcome her?” Jin Xingyin bit her lip. “What type of home will I find, with whoever Father decides to marry me off to?”

Jin Zixuan’s hands curled into fists. He wanted to hurt whoever had made his sister look like that.

Except it had been him, he supposed. Him, for not realizing how afraid she was, to be forced to marry someone as callous as he’d been acting…he could improve his own behavior, but it wouldn’t help her, not really. He could be the finest husband Young Mistress Jiang could hope for, and it wouldn’t be worth a damn, because his father wouldn’t bother making two alliances with the same sect – Jin Xingyin would be going away to the Cloud Recesses, where the Lan didn’t even let women live in the same area as the men, or maybe to the Unclean Realm, where women had no choice but to train right alongside all the men…or even, maybe, to the Wen sect, where – where –

Everyone knew what they said about the Wen sect, and in the Jin sect they knew a little more, with their father being as friendly with Wen Ruohan as he was. There were as many scurrilous rumors about the Wen sect leader as there were about the Jin sect leader, excepting only that the rumors were about torture instead of sex, and the ones about their father, they knew, were all true. Even the ones that people didn’t dare to say out loud in public, just in whispers at home – those were also true.

The ones no one dared say at all were true, too.

If that was the case, then how bad must the Wen sect really be?

Jin Zixuan felt the blood drain out of his face. “He wouldn’t,” he said, except he knew that his father would. And his sister knew it, too – he could tell from her expression. “Fine. I wouldn’t.”

“So what?” she asked, arching her eyebrows just like their mother. “You can’t arrange my marriage. You’re not my father. You’re not even sect leader, just the heir. As long as he’s alive, you have no way to stop him.”

He stared at her.

A few moments later, her face paled, too, as she realized what she had just said.

“...you can’t,” she said.

“You can’t marry out to the Wen sect, either,” he pointed out. “‘A girl married out is like water spilling out’ – it can’t be brought back in, not unless they choose divorce, and that’s their decision, not yours. If you’re gone, you’re gone. You can’t come back.”

The dead couldn’t come back, either.

“If you were sect leader, you could choose how strictly to enforce the rule about men and women,” Jin Xingyin said thoughtfully, and her hand was cold in his. “But you wouldn’t be sect leader if anyone ever found out about…well. We’d need to be terribly clever about it.”

Jin Zixuan was not naturally clever, he knew, but he wasn’t actually stupid. If he set his mind to something, he could tap into the streak of cunning he’d inherited from both parents, the one he usually spent his time deliberately ignoring because he didn’t want to be anything like either of them.

Perhaps he’d never had a choice in it after all.

“I’ll find a way,” he said, and squeezed her hand. “Give me time.”

She did, and he did.

A few years later:

“Welcome to Jinlin Tower,” Jin Zixuan said, and smiled at the dusty over-awed boy only a few years older than him, whose wide eyes couldn’t hide the calculations churning in the brain behind them. “What did you say your name was again?”

The boy saluted.

“My name is Meng Yao,” he said carefully. “I was told that – the sect leader here –”

“Things have changed,” Jin Zixuan said, and at a gesture, his sister stepped forward with a smile. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t honor any commitments he may have made. Why don’t you follow my sister? She’ll find somewhere for you.”

He didn’t know if Jiang Yanli would find him a good husband when she arrived, not the way he now was, with his hands stained with blood and his mind forced through desperation into the cleverness and cunning that he’d never wanted. They had to have the alliance with the Jiang sect, especially now that his father had so prematurely died, but no matter what, he would never force Jiang Yanli to accept him, not with the example of his sister before him.

It was a good thing, Jin Zixuan supposed, that he would be able to offer her a pick of substitutes.

#mdzs #jin zixuan #jin guangshan #madam jin #jiang yanli #jin guangyao #my fics #my fic #second one of three for today!

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zeciex · 10 months

Text

A Vow of Blood - 45

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Chapter 45: Blood in the Water

AO3 - Masterlist

SMUT! talk of trauma

“Keep your feet in the air,” Boris instructed, hastily adjusting his trousers. He shoved his undershirt into his waistband and began the task of buttoning up his doublet. “Do not waste my seed. Give me a son.”

Daenera frowned as she perched herself on the bed, resting her feet on the headboard to keep the seed from leaking out of her.

Nauseating revulsion twisted in her stomach like a relentless storm as she felt his seed festering inside her, a sickening sensation that made her feel tainted with putrid rot. It seemed to cling to her, seeping into her very pores, and she felt her skin unpleasantly greasing, as if she hadn’t bathed for days. It made her want to claw at her skin. An acrid taste remained at the back of her throat.

A single tear welled up in the corner of her eye, and she hastily brushed it away, her trembling hand leaving a faint smear of moisture on her cheek. “Where are you going?”

“Out. Don’t bother waiting up,” Boris responded curtly, his movements sharp as he wrapped his sword belt around his waist and secured it, the sheath knocking against the bedpost with a solid thud.

Daenera’s eyes bore into him from her place on the bed, anger and bitterness in her gaze. “Are you off to visit your mistress?”

“I’m going to see my son,” Boris retorted sharply, his voice laden with frustration, his words flung into the room without a care for any eavesdropping servants. His footsteps echoed loudly as he stomped towards the doors, the shards of shattered glass beneath his heel churning with a discordant grinding. The doors slammed shut behind him.

Daenera rolled out of the bed, giving up on her attempt to retain Boris’s seed. She crossed the room barefoot, her footsteps a soft padding against the cold, smooth stone floor. The dim light from a flickering candle cast eerie shadows on the walls, emphasizing the sense of disarray in the room.

In the disordered common room, she made her way towards her alchemy workspace. Shelves filled with bottles and herbs still remained in place, untouched by Boris rage, except for a few. Jelissa knelt beneath the shelves, diligently collecting glass shards and disposing them into a bucket. Each piece clinked together, creating a discordant, unsettling symphony that grated on Daenera’s already frayed nerves.

“Princess!” Joyce exclaimed, her voice laced with concern as she tried to navigate the chaos of the room and prevent Daenera from moving any further.

But Daenera was beyond heeding her maid’s words. She took another step, her bare foot finding an unfortunate piece of glass that pierced her skin, sending a searing pain through her foot. Ignoring the injury, she reached for a small bottle of moon tea nestled on a shelf. With a swift, almost desperate motion, she uncorked it and downed the bitter liquid. It did little to erase the foul taste that had settled in her mouth.

With unsteady hands, she placed the empty bottle on a nearby shelf and steadied herself by clutching onto the wooden edge, her body leaning heavily. A sharp intake of breath accompanied her determined effort to extract the glass shard from her foot, the pain momentarily intensifying as she pulled it free, letting it drop to the floor beside her. Blood welled from the gash, flowing freely and dripping onto the stone floor. “Is there still water in the bath?”

“There is–but princess, you’re hurt,” Joyce said, quickly finding fresh and clean cloth.

Daenera gave scant attention to the gash on her foot, leaving a crimson trail in her wake as she approached the bath. She waded straight into the cold water, paying the temperature little mind, as she submerged herself to her neck. The injury throbbed with an insistent sting, yet she pushed it to the back of her mind, focusing her energy on a harsh, almost aggressive scrubbing of her skin with a sponge.

“Daenera,” Joyce murmured, sitting down on the stool beside the bath, worry etched into her brows.

“Just… help me scrub,” Daenera ordered, swiping the harsh sponge between her legs, determined to remove any trace of her husband.

Joyce cautiously retrieved a cloth and commenced the same gentle scrubbing of Daenera’s back as she had done earlier in the day. Daenera couldn’t help but sense her servant’s eye on her, their gaze tracing over the visible marks of Boris’s wrath – the bruised handprint encircling her arm and the faint swelling on her cheek where Boris’s blow had landed.

Daenera had absolutely no inclination to broach the subject of the incident with Joyce, or anyone else for that matter. The sheer humiliation of it all weighed heavily upon her.

Daenera continued to scrub her skin relentlessly until it glowed red and felt raw, the cool water stinging her tender flesh. Her fingers had wrinkled from the prolonged immersion, and at last, Joyce intervened. She instructed Daenera to stand, wrapping her in soft cloth to dry her off. Afterward, the cloth was swapped for a nightgown and a silk robe, and Joyce carefully tended to the wound of Daenera’s foot. Her touch was gentle, meant to offer solace, but even that felt wrong, as if it couldn’t cleanse the stain of Boris’s touch.

An insatiable itch seemed to burrow beneath Daenera’s skin, an urgent need to erase any trace of Boris, to replace his touch with another’s, to reclaim her own body from the humiliation and degradation she had suffered.

“Fetch my shoes,” Daenera murmured as Jelissa wobbled out the door, carrying the bucket of glass in her arms.

A deep frown creased Joyce’s features. “Where are you headed?”

“To see Aemond,” Daenera replied, swiftly slipping into her shoes.

“Daenera…” Joyce began, the note of concern in her voice bordering on being alarmed.

“I don’t require your permission, nor am I inclined to entertain any inquiries,” Daenera continued, rising from the settee. Her expression turned stern, leaving no room for debate. “This is my decision. All I ask of you is your obedience and silence.”

With a soft yet deliberate push, the concealed passage clicked open, its hinges creaking slightly. In an instant, a chilly draft swept into the room, accompanied by the unmistakable odor of ancient dust and rat droppings. The cool breeze danced lightly over Daenera’s skin, sending a shiver down her spine and causing the fine hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Joyce remarked, her tone attempting to conceal her apprehension.

Daenera turned to look at her loyal servant. “So do I…”

“Does he bring you happiness?” Joyce asked, her voice tinged with an odd mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Her gaze delved into Daenera’s eyes searching for the truth.

Daenera felt her throat tighten briefly before she found her voice. “He… is a comfort.”

As Daenera spoke, Joyce’s hand gradually slipped away from her arm, a tacit signal that conveyed understanding, if not full approval. Stepping back, Joyce’s gaze lingered on Daenera for a moment longer before she spoke in caution. “Just… be careful.”

Daenera slipped into Aemond’s chambers as if she were a whisper in the night, her footsteps so light that they barely disturbed the room’s stillness. The crackling fire in the hearth provided the only semblance of sound, its flickering flames casting wavering shadows across the room. Aemond sat submerged in the bath, his back turned to her, his head leaning against the edge of the tub in a posture of repose. His eye remained sealed shut as he enjoyed the soothing warmth of the water.

Daenera moved with practiced grace, her lithe form settling beside the tub, the radiant heat from the nearby hearth warming her back. Her delicate fingers dipped a spine into the bathwater, and she began her gentle ministrations upon his skin. Aemond’s eyelid fluttered open, his gaze fixing upon her with curiosity, while the sapphire danced with flames, resembling a radiant sun against a dark sky.

With a deliberate yet gentle touch, Daenera moved the sponge up Aemond’s sinewy arms, pressing it just enough to release the water, allowing it to cascade in rivulets down his pale skin. She dipped the sponge again, absorbing more of the warm bathwater, and resumed her tender touch, this time tracing a path upward to his robust chest. The sponge followed the contours of his collarbone, each stroke a caress against his taut, masculine form.

Aemond’s lone eye tracked her movements, his gaze unwavering as he watched her in silence, his features pulled in subtle intrigue.

Daenera’s own eyes remained fixed upon her task, her attention divided between the path of the sponge against his chest and the man before her. She met his gaze as she submerged the sponge once more into the welcoming warmth of the water, trailing it down his stomach.

Aemond exhaled softly as Daenera continued her gentle exploration with the sponge, trailing it down his stomach in unhurried strokes. Her movements were deliberate, each touch calculated to elicit a reaction.

As the sponge grazed over his stiffening cock, a shiver seemed to run through Aemond’s body. Daenera skillfully maneuvered the sponge, letting it brush against his thigh and teasingly tracing it back and forth, each pass bringing her tantalizingly close to his growing desire. Her head tilted to the side, and she released her grip on the sponge, allowing it to float upward towards the water’s surface.

With deliberate intent, her fingers closed around his now-erect cock. Aemond drew in a sharp breath, his body responding with an involuntary teasing as desire seemed to surge within him.

With a steady and sure hold, Daenera began to stroke his length with purposeful precision. Aemond’s skin felt smooth beneath her touch, the hardness of muscle cloaked in silky skin. Her tumb trailed along the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, gliding all the way up to the tip. There, she deftly twisted her hand, changing her grip to trace her thumb along the edge of the head, brushing the pad of it over the sensitive tip and lingering near his slit.

Aemond responded with a low hum of approval, his hips reacting with a subtle jerk in response to her touch.

Methodically, Daenera increased the tempo of her strokes, gliding her hand up and down his length with growing intensity. As her movements quickened, Aemond’s fingers clenched the edges of the tub, his lips parting as he breathed heavily. The rhythmic motion of her hand against his cock created turbulence in the bathwater, causing it to slosh and ripple against the sides of the tub.

His fingers delicately lifted, threading through her hair. With a gentle tug, he cradled her head, his thumb tracing the curve of her lips. Daenera leaned into his touch, finding it burning away her husbands.

A palpable electricity filled the space between them as they lingered, lips tantalizingly close but not yet touching. The air was thick with desire, each passing second heightened by anticipation. Her hand continued its fervent strokes on his rigid length, the rhythm mirroring the rising tension in the room.

Daenera inhaled deeply, savoring the intoxicating blend of steamy desire and Aemond’s rare, enticing moan. His lips parted, yearning for the taste of hers. He leaned forward to capture her lips–

With a single, fluid movement, Daenera retreated, leaving him aching for more, his desire smoldering like a banked fire. His lips reached out, almost instinctively, in pursuit of hers, only to realize that she had moved away.

With elegance, Daenera lifted herself from her seated stance, all the while maintaining an unwavering gaze. In one fluid motion, she allowed her robe to slink down her shoulders, its fabric cascading in a gentle heap upon the floor. The nightgown, a delicate whisper against her skin, clung to her arm.

Her fingers, like a teasing symphony, found their way beneath the hem of the nightgown, their touch sending a shiver of anticipation through the room. As they sensuously trailed upward, the nightgown’s diaphanous material gradually unveiled the curve of her legs, tracing their way to her silken thighs.

Daenera glided gracefully into the bath, her lithe figure settling atop Aemond’s hips, her gown hitching up provocatively around her navel as she descended into the warm water. The fabric, now drenched, clung to her like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination as it turned translucent under the weight of moisture.

Their connection deepened as her delicate hands came to rest upon his chest, fingers tracing the contours of his muscular form. Simultaneously, Aemond’s strong hands slid sensuously to her hips, their touch sending fiery currents through her body.

She couldn’t help but feel the undeniable presence of his desire, his cock pressing insistently against her thigh, a tangible testament of his desire.

His touch was a gentle caress, moving with unhurried precision as his hand traversed her body. It left a sensuous trail of water on the sections of her nightgown that had yet to succumb to the bath’s embrace, creating a tantalizing contrast between damp and dry fabric. His fingers slid past her chest with a feather-light touch before venturing further, brushing under the cascade of her hair.

Daenera surrendered to his touch, allowing her body to lean in closer, her every movement slow and tender. She tilted forward, her lips brushing over his in a slow, seductive dance, as she inhaled his breath, her proximity teasing and promising, yet maddeningly elusive. She held him just a breath away, leaving his to ache with longing.

His lips sought hers with a growing hunger, desperate in its need. She withdrew a breath away.

“Let me have you,” Aemond whispered, his voice a sultry entreaty, his wet thumb tracing along the curve of her parted lips. His eye, burning with desire, held her gaze, a black pupil voraciously consuming the icy depths of the blue.

The words carried an almost sacred weight, spoken with a reverence that bordered on worship. It was a dangerous plea, an illicit invocation to a long-forgotten deity of hedonism and savagery, one that dared to defy convention and embraced the primal desire that was inherent in them.

It felt like an entirely different world from the way her husband had ever treated her. The contrast was palpable, almost painful in its clarity, and most certainly agonizing in its cruelty.

Daenera yearned for more of his touch, her longing evident as she leaned into his caress. She captured his lips in a fiery, fervent kiss, her hunger for him undeniable and insatiable, a ravenous craving that consumed her entirely.

Daenera began to move her hips with a sinuous grace, purposefully pressing her cunt against his hardened length. She sought relief from the aching need that throbbed within her core. The head of his cock crazed against her sensitive nerves, igniting a blazing inferno that surged through her veins.

In the midst of their heated kiss, she couldn’t contain a breathy moan that escaped her lips, a testament to the intoxicating pressure she found in grinding herself against him. The friction between their bodies was a sensation that stole her very breath, making her gasp for more.

His hand, which had been cradling the side of her face, ventured down the column of her throat, tracing over the graceful curve below her collarbone. It then cupped one of her breasts, fingers exploring the soft swell with a possessive touch. His other hand guided her hips in their rhythmic roll, controlling the pace with which she was grinding on him.

The water surrounding them grew turbulent, echoing the passionate fervor that had enveloped Daenera as she ground her body against Aemond’s. It sloshed and splashed against the sides of the tub, mirroring the intensity of their need. Her movements were deliberate, a sensual dance that drew her folds over his cock with a rhythmic urgency, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through her.

Her hand descended between their bodies, fingers wrapping around him, guiding him to align perfectly with her aching core. A gasping moan, long and drawn-out, escaped her parted lips as she descended upon him, feeling the exquisite stretch of his cock pressing into her, reminiscent of the caress of a devouring flame.

The descent was tantalizingly slow, almost deliberate, as she took him in, savoring every inch of his throbbing cock. The sensation was both familiar and comforting, like a long-lost embrace. Gradually, her hips pressed flush against his, completing the connection with an intensity that left them both breathless and aflame.

The exquisite stretch and the searing burn were what she craved, for they represented both an ending and a beginning–a sensation that erased any lingering trace of her husband from her mind.

Aemond consumed her in a passionate kiss, his fervor evident in the way his tongue danced with hers, their mouths locked in an urgent and ravenous embrace. His grip, firm and unyielding, conveyed his wants, holding her as though she was his .

A shiver of pleasure rippled down her spine, the muscles along her back aching in a sinuous curve. She pressed her hips firmly against Aemond’s, seeking friction. Her cunt clenched and throbbed around him with a rapid feverish pulse.

Unable to contain herself, Daenera reluctantly tore her lips from his, releasing a loud and wanton moan that echoed through the room. With agonizing slowness, she lifted herself until he was almost on the verge of slipping out of her, each inch of separation sending electric waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

Aemond leaned in, his lips claiming the delicate juncture of her neck and shoulder with a savage hunger, his teeth grazing over the fragile skin. His strong hand cupped her breast with a possessive grip, his thumb brushing over her sensitive nipple, igniting illicit tingles that cascaded through her body like a wildfire.

His lips descended further, pressing heated kisses below the curve of her collarbone and tracing the neckline of her dress. Their journey continued downward, where he took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking at it with an intoxicating roughness. His other hand played sensuously with her neglected breast, adding to the maddening pleasure that enveloped her.

Saliva coated the fabric of her dress, the moisture seeping through to make the material cling to her skin, revealing the perked, dark nipple beneath in a provocative display of desire.

Daenera couldn’t help but moan, the sound escaping her lips as she continued to rise and descend upon him, her hips rolling with tantalizing precision at the base of his cock, each movement drawing her breath.

Aemond’s desire-fueled impatience spurred him to tug at the neckline of her dress, freeing her pert breast from its fabric confines. His skilled tongue brushed over the perky, sensitive nub before he engulfed it with a rough, hungry suction, his teeth occasionally grazing it in a way that sent electrifying shivers coursing through her.

The moan that escaped her was nothing short of primal, loud and unrestrained, its melody soaring above the sloshing sounds of the water.

Her fingers wove into the damp strands of his hair, the wetness coating her hands as she gripped them firmly, gently pulling at him in a plea for his lips to return to hers. However, Aemond remained steadfast in his ministrations, his relentless attention on her nipple causing an exquisite ache that bordered on sweet agony. He persisted, sucking and teasing until her core clenched around him in an almost painful response to the intense pleasure.

Her tug on his hair grew more insistent, her fingers pulling at the strands with a delicious sting that couldn't be ignored. Aemond’s lips reluctantly left her aching breast, drawn back to capture hers in a heated kiss. The rocking motion of her hips intensified, each movement becoming more fervent and urgent.

Aemond, unable to resist the pull of their passion any longer, began to thrust into her with a primal need, his hands firmly clamping down her hips to guide and match her movements. Their bodies moved together in a synchrony that mirrored the tempestuous sea, a force of nature itself.

The water in the bath churned and sloshed like a sea caught in a tempest. It heaved and undulated, mimicking the peaks and crashing waves of their movements, a tumultuous dance of desire.

As their bodies moved and collied in the water, her moans intertwined with the elemental rhythm, creating a symphony of pleasure that echoed throughout the room. It was a song of the sea, relentless and insistent.

“I’m close,” Daenera moaned breathlessly against his lips, her voice a desperate plea. The coiled tension in her stomach strained and twisted, her core beginning to flutter with anticipation. She wished to lose herself at sea, to let the waves crash over her and wash away the remnants of her husband. “So close… so, so close.”

Aemond responded to her need with unbridled intensity, thrusting into her with a relentless fervor. The water in the bath churned and roiled around them, spilling over the edges of the tub and cascading onto the floor.

“Touch yourself, byka narys,” Aemond rasped into her ear, his voice a raw, low grown that resonated like steel against stone.

Daenera surrendered her hold on his shoulders, her parted fingers leaving behind small crescent-shaped imprints on his heated skin. Her hand descended between their bodies, slipping beneath the floating gown that clung to her like a second skin. With teasing tenderness, she traced her fingers through the soft curls guarding her cunt, then ventured further, slipping between her folds to rub slow, sensuous circles on the bundle of nerves.

A trembling sigh escaped her lips, her his continuing to roll in a fervent rhythm as Aemond thrust into her with raw intensity. He claimed her throat with a rough kiss, his hands moving behind her to grip the flesh of her ass, his strong kneading the tender, bruised flesh with a possessive hunger.

“ Aemond ,” her voice trembled with desire, a mix of a moan and a his escaping clenched teeth as she pressed down on her sensitive clit, feeling herself teetering on the precipice, the waves of pleasure beckoning her.

He responded with a low, appreciative hum, thrusting into her with perfect timing as she descended.

She tumbled into the abyss, the world around her seemingly dissolving into a whirlpool of crashing waves and sensations that threatened to consume her entirely. A shuddering cascade of pleasure wracked her body, her core fluttering and throbbing with each pulsating wave of pleasure. Her inner walls gripped him with a possessive intensity, as if unwilling to release their grip, a silent plea for him to remain with her forever.

Aemond’s breath hissed through clenched teeth, a wicked sneer curling his lips as he thrust upward with a primal need, spilling his seed into her welcoming heat. With commanding guidance, he urged her to keep grinding on him, their hips moving together in a final, intoxicating union as she poured every last punch of his desire into her.

The tempestuous movements of the bathwater gradually stilled as they both panted breathlessly, their bodies spent and their sense overwhelmed by the lingering echoes of pleasure.

With an insatiable hunger still simmering within her, Daenera pressed her lips to Aemond’s in a slow, lingering kiss, savoring the taste of him. Then, she rested her temple against his, eyes drifting closed as she basked in the warm afterglow. Eventually, she slipped off him, allowing his hands to slip from her body as she moved to the opposite end of the tub, settling herself between his feet.

The nightgown draped around her form like a wet embrace, its fabric clinging to her skin, completely drenched. Her gaze followed the graceful movements of the fabric, which danced upon the water’s surface as if it were a spirit floating in the air. She sensed Aemond’s eye on her, an unspoken curiosity that she chose not to meet with her own glance. Instead, she exhaled slowly, allowing herself to sink deeper into the warm water, her head finding a resting place against the tub’s edge, her eyes sealed shut.

Breaking the silence, Aemond’s voice intruded. “I hadn’t expected you’d come tonight.”

Daenera permitted the words to linger in the air, much like her nightgown did in the water. There was a subtle inquiry in his tone, a question dangling from the thinnest of threads.

“I hadn't expected to come either,” she murmured, her voice bearing a hint of strain due to the awkward angle of her head resting against the tub’s edge. She released another breath and lifted her head to gaze at him. His expression held a subtle curiosity, delicately prodding for answers. The unspoken question hung by a mere thread, swaying gently in the current of her silence.

Daenera decided to sever that thread herself.

“My husband has taken a mistress,” she disclosed, abruptly starting the subject. It wasn’t exactly what he needed to know, but she couldn’t quite find the words she sought just yet. So, he would have to make do with the morsels she offered.

Aemond’s response bore a hint of teasing, a jab at her own hypocrisy. “Does this upset you?”

“What upsets me,” Daenera began, her voice tinged with frustration, as she waved her hand through the water, creating gentle ripples upon its surface, “is his indiscretion.”

She could feel the insult smoldering in her chest like burning embers being fanned. “What upsets me is that your mother insists on interfering in my marriage, attempting to convince me to leave King’s Landing by revealing what she knows. What upsets me is that my stupid, foolish husband has fathered a bastard with his mistress and decided to provide for them. What upsets me is that he humiliates and insults me with his actions, then he–”

Her knees bent, rising from the water like islands, and she wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her knees.

“He expects me to accept it,” Daenera continued, the bitterness of it palpable on the back of her tongue. “He anticipates that I’ll endure his insults and threats, warning that if I fail to provide him with a son, he’ll legitimize his bastard and name him as his heir.”

“Legitimizing bastards is undoubtedly an insult of itself,” Aemond mused, a wry turn to his lips.

Daenera shot him an exasperated glare and playfully splashed water at his face. “You’re a twat. I’m here, pouring my heart out, and you decided to pile on more insults.”

Aemond wiped his face, his laughter filling the space between them and sending a shiver down her spine.

“Kill the child,” Aemond suggested casually, utterly uncensored about the gravity of his words. “And the mother.”

Daenera responded with a dry tone, “I’m not going to kill them.”

Aemond leaned back, his arms resting on the sides of the bathtub. “Why not? It would eliminate the threat of displacement. Without the bastard, any claim your future child might have won’t be challenged by his existence. And getting rid of the mother ensures there’s no child to follow.”

Daenera shook her head. “It wouldn’t prevent him from claiming another mistress and fathering another bastard. It’s a temporary solution to a persistent problem. The fault is neither with the child or the whore, but with the man.”

A crude smile curved Aemond’s lips, and his voice took on a wicked, malicious tone as he suggested, “Kill your husband then.”

Daenera’s glower deepened. “I am not killing my husband. Is murder your answer to everything?”

“Your marriage is an affront,” Aemond boldly challenged, his eye locked onto hers. “Your husband, a depraved drunkard who prefers wallowing in debauchery over upholding honor. He continues to taunt and degrade you by taking a mistress and fathering a bastard. Your mother should have never consented to this union, and you should’ve refused too.”

Daenera’s gaze narrowed, her tone firm. “You know the reason why.”

Aemond scoffed, dismissing his reasoning. “The stormlands. From the very beginning, your choice of spouse was an insult. Your connection with the Baratheon’s relies on Borros either not siring a legitimate son or his daughter not marrying someone of greater consequence to displace your husband of his position. It’s a desperate and reckless move that seems to only diminish your value. Would Daemon have treated his own flesh and blood to such a marriage? Will your brothers be subjected to weak marriages? Or is it just you–”

Daenera cut him off, her voice filled with biting intent. “Don’t feign ignorance about the true purpose of the marriage alliance with the Baratheons. I may have wed for an uncertain alliance, but it’s still an alliance, and I intend to uphold it.”

His words cut through her like a well-aimed lash, biting into her mind with a precision that sent shivers down her spine. They laid bare the uncomfortable truth she had been loathed and unwilling to acknowledge, the thoughts that nibbed at her in the silent hours of the night, as her husband slumbered beside her.

“For how long? How many insults must you endure? How much humiliation?” Aemond’s questions hung in the air, a relentless barrage of inquiries that probed at the very heart of her resolve. His voice bore a challenging tone, demanding answers she had no intention of ever confronting. “How many strikes?”

He inched closer in the bath, a trace of dampness trailing over her skin as he brushed a rebellious strand of hair from her face, his finger lightly grazing her cheek. Daenera slightly moved away from his touch, her eyes avoiding his penetrating gaze. Her mouth felt parched as she attempted to continue.

“Strikes and insults, I can endure,” she began, her finger nervously combing through the tangles of her hair, the water in the tub rippling at the movement.

“So he did strike you,” his voice was cold, sounding like steel hitting steel. His gaze became darker as rage seemed to twist his features. He stood from the bath, water sloshing chaotically everywhere with the force of the movement.

Daenera’s hand shot out, gripping his wrist and halting him in his progress of stepping out the bath. “Do not let emotion overtake reason. You cannot kill him, and I do not want you to.”

A moment passed between them–one seeking understanding, the other asking for permission.

A stern expression etched itself onto Aemond’s face as he observed her, a trace of judgment apparent in the lines of his features. Still, he offered her the gift of silence, his singular eye remaining fixed on her as if delving into the depths of her inner thoughts. He sank back into the bath again, taking up the same position as before.

In that moment, she couldn’t help but wonder if Aemond had ever cast a similar judgmental look upon his own mother for what she had endured as a wife. While she may not have been subjected to physical strikes, the absence of a good husband could nurture only contempt. She wondered how women, in their role as wives, often suffered in silence for the greater good. Daenera was no exception; she was the fragile thread holding together a delicate alliance, and would not be the one to sever it prematurely, not before it had served its intended purpose.

She kept a watchful eye on him as he regarded her, his gaze as cool as a northern wind, leaving a chilly sensation on her skin. His face remained an enigmatic mask, revealing no emotions, and it made a shiver run down her spine. A nagging fear, like a pointed dagger, jabbed between her ribs, twisting her heart in her chest.

��It was inevitable,” she muttered, looking back at him as she felt the bite of tears at the back of her throat. Her spine straightened a little, as if trying to hold her head high, though her arms remained around her legs. “I couldn’t evade the marriage bed forever. It was just a matter of time.”

And so she continued, her voice wavering and humorless. “At the very least, I can thank the gods for their sense of humor. You’d expect a man of his size to have a… proportionately large cock. I assume it’s average at best, though I haven't seen many. I hardly felt the… discomfort.”

Nervously, she wetted her lips once more, her cheek aflame with both embarrassment and the haunting memory of her husband. She shook her head and averted her gaze, unable to endure the blank, icy expression etched onto his face.

“I needed you to erase his touch,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as she confessed the desperate, almost dreadful desire that had driven her to him. “You’ve burned away other’s lingering presence before, with Aegon, with that man who attacked me. Your touch, it expels their ghosts, wipes away everything that came before.”

A heavy silence settled between them, and Daenera couldn't help but wonder if her words had repulsed him, if the intimacy they shared now felt tainted, just as she had earlier, before he had burned away that feeling. The thought writhed uncomfortably within her, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste.

Her confession also carried with it a profound sense of vulnerability. It was a transfer of power, her desperate yearning for his touch an admission of weakness, a delicate shard that could potentially be turned into a weapon and wielded against her. It teetered on the edge of the unspoken, that very thing neither of them dared to discuss, the unspoken force that cleaved a rift in the ground between them.

“Did he force himself upon you?” Aemond’s question struck her like a whip, leaving welts of discomfort in its wake. She felt the urge to claw at her own skin, seeking relief from the tension that gripped her. Her nails dug into her flesh, the sharp sensation grounding her.

“No more than a husband can force himself upon his wife,” she uttered, her words echoing the bleak words whispered to wives in the wake of unwanted encounters with their spouses. She swallowed hard. “I fulfilled my duty, nothing beyond that.”

“We’re all ensnared by these bindings. Duty,” Aemond murmured, his voice soft as he acknowledged the burden.

“Some bear heavier chains than others,” Daenera lamented softly, her gaze fixated on a stray drop of water as it ran down the side of the tub. One could never anticipate its path, but only guess and hope.

“His transgressions are a reflection of his character, not a measure of yours,” Aemond insisted, leaning closer, his sapphire eye shimmering. He ran his fingers through her wet hair with a tenderness that bordered on agonizing, leaving Daenera perplexed and weary.

“I am certain your mother does not share that perspective,” Daenera muttered, inhaling deeply as her back started to ache from her posture, and she glanced at her pruned fingers. “Nor does anyone else. Boris’s actions will be seen as a reflection of my ability to be a wife. He and your mother seem to have concluded that I should have conceived by now. He insists it’s the reason behind his dalliance with the mistress. He pins the blame on me for not carrying his child.”

“A feeble excuse from a feeble man,” Aemond retorted.

Daenera lifted her head, allowing her bitterness to flow outward, against her will. “He’s not entirely wrong, you know. I won’t bear his seed, won’t let it fester and grow inside of me. I refuse to bring his child into this world. So, he’ll seethe and seek what I will not give him elsewhere.”

“A shame,” Aemond remarked with a hint of teasing in his eye, pulling her closer. She unfolded herself to accommodate him, their bodies drawing near, his hand tracing the curve of her spine. “I have a feeling it would look rather good on you.”

“I can’t bear his children,” Daenera sighed with a bitter laugh, tears threatening to form in the corners of her eyes. “I am convinced I won’t survive the childbirth. Whether due to nature or my husband’s orders, I will be butchered.”

A sense of unwavering certainty washed over her, much like the unmistakable chill that precedes a looming storm, or the absolute knowledge of one’s own mortality. It was a certainty as inescapable as death itself, and Daenera couldn’t shake it. Should she be forced to bear and deliver Boris’s child, she would meet the same gruesome fate that countless women had met before her.

Aemond’s voice assumed a sensuous, low tone as he continued, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “The child doesn’t have to be your husband’s.”

A warm smile spread across Daenera’s face,and she chuckled softly, her head shaking in response. “I won’t be giving you any bastards! If the child emerges with silver hair and unmistakable Valyrian features, my husband would surely kill me with his own hands. It would be a death sentence in and of itself.”

“I will kill him if he tries,” Aemond vowed, a sharp, dangerous glint in his eye.

Daenera shook her head, her expression serious. “Then both of our heads will be propped on spikes above the gates.”

“I have every confidence in you to get away with it,” Aemond mused, drawing her closer. In the water, Daenera’s lithe form gracefully contorted, allowing Aemond to bring her closer to him. Her supple body twisted until her back nestled against his chest. His strong arm encircled her waist, his hand settling gently upon her stomach. As she relaxed into his embrace, her head tilted back, coming to rest against the curve of his collarbone. She could feel the steady rhythm of his breath, as it flowed into his lungs and escaped in gentle, warm exhales that tickled her ear.

“You should write a letter to your husband’s brother to appraise him of your husband’s indiscretion. Borros Baratheon is unlikely to desire his brother’s illegitimate child inheriting the title of Lord of Storm’s End. While Borros might not be known for his sophistication or literacy, he surely comprehends the gravity of his brother’s actions. Both Daemon and your mother are unlikely to take this affront lightly, and I don’t think the King would either. You are his favorite grandchild after all.”

Daenera released a contemplative sigh before speaking, her thoughts weighing on her mind. “Daemon would undoubtedly demand that I provide him with an heir, and he might even go so far as to suggest I eliminate the child and its mother for good measure.”

Aemond’s thumb raced absentminded circles on her skin, and she could almost envision his thoughtful scowl. He emitted a soft hum, the gentle vibration transmitting from his chest into hers.

Daenera went on, her voice steady, “Boris can keep his mistress and their illegitimate child; he can find solace there if he wishes. He has his affair, I have mine. However, he shall never lay claim to Storm’s End, and neither shall I.”

Daenera found solace in the thought that once her mother had securely ascended to the throne, there would be no need to perpetuate the charade of her marriage any longer. Boris would meet his untimely demise, leaving her a contented widow.

Aemond seemed to grasp her intentions, and his voice conveyed a subtle, knowing smile. “And what do you plan to do with your newfound freedom?”

Daenera pondered for a moment. “I’m not certain. Perhaps I’ll serve my mother or forge a new alliance. The Stark boy remains unmarried. I could journey North.”

Aemond couldn’t help but release a breath that danced between a scoff and a chuckle. “You will never survive the harsh winters of the North or the broodiness of the Starks.”

A tranquil silence descended upon them, only broken by the steady crackling of the hearth and the occasional murmur of the water.

Aemond sat in silence, watching Daenera as she lay wrapped in his sheets, her slumber undisturbed. Her hair, once meticulously arranged, now formed an unruly frame around her face, a stark contrast to her fair complexion. In the rhythm of her breath, her back rose and fell, an undulating dance of tranquility. Aemond’s eye lingered on her features, softened by the embrace of sleep, giving her an almost childlike serenity. Yet, amidst this peaceful scene, a bruise had begun to bloom beneath the surface of her delicate cheek.

His gaze shifted to her arm, tracing the deep imprint left by her husband’s cruel grasp, branding her as if she were his to possess. Deep within his core, a simmering rage coiled like a serpent, ready to strike at a moment’s notice. It festered, a corrosive poison that coursed through his veins.

Her eyes had pleaded with him, wide and imploring, a silent plea to subdue the tempest of his anger, to swallow the venom of rage that had, on countless occasions, coursed through his veins.

He knew he couldn’t simply chase her husband down and spill his entrails upon the ground, and present her with his severed head. But by the gods, did he long for it.

An even greater burden gnawed at Aemond’s conscience, one that weighed heavily upon him–a profound realization that such an act would be tantamount to a declaration of the thing neither of them spoke of.

Aemond’s fingers pinched the bridge of his notes, an attempt to alleviate the throbbing pain that felt like ice being driven through his eye, burrowing deep into his brain. The agony was almost unbearable. When he closed his eye to escape the pain, her image continued to haunt him, an indelible imprint etched into his mind–her vulnerable form in the bath, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

Her very essence appeared to contort, like a malevolent force coiling around her, imposing its dominance over her body and bending her limbs to its cruel whims. Boris molded her into a shape she was never meant to be, a grotesque distortion of her true self. He smothered her fire, extinguishing the flames, confining it into a solitary candle, locked away from the world, instead of embracing the wild inferno that was her true nature.

Aemond tenderly brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his fingertip tracing the outline of the bruise on her cheek.

He shifted further into a sitting position, forcing himself to sit up straighter, though the pounding in his head intensified, pulsating with blinding pain. A shaky breath escaped his lips, his teeth grinding together as the mounting pressure in his skull threatened to split his head open.

Deep within the socket, he could sense of the cool sapphire, its unyielding edges seeming to scrape against the delicate contours at the back of his socket, a sensation reminiscent of the dagger slice through his eye. It wasn’t the stone moving, but rather the scar tissue that had tightly ensnared it, rendering it immovable. Nonetheless, the agony persisted, driving into his head with a piercing, icy precision, that very well could have been a blade thrust through the skull.

The bed shifted, and a delicate hand brushed against Aemond’s shoulder, causing him to turn slightly as Daenera stirred from her slumber. Her eyes, still small from sleep, were drawn in an expression of concern.

He drove the heel of his hand into his forehead, right above the jagged scar, in an attempt to shift the pain’s focus elsewhere.

Sensing his agony, Daenera’s hand glided across his chest before rising to cradle his face. With a tender touch, she turned his gaze towards her, her thumb caressing his cheek as if soothing away the pain. Gradually, the sharp agony ebbed, leaving behind nothing more than a nagging, dull throb.

Aemond sighed in relief, leaning into her touch, his tense muscles finally relaxing in her presence.

Silently, without the need for words, Daenera eased herself back onto the bed, and Aemond followed suit, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. His arm enveloped her waist, gently pulling her close until their bodies were entwined in a seamless embrace.

#aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #aemond smut #hotd fanfic #A Vow of Blood

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ourloveisforthelovely · 1 year

Text

Black Heart Part 9

Regulus Black AU

Request: Will you write a Regulus x Reader fic where Regulus is older than the reader? She comes to help the Order and Regulus falls in love with her. The relationship isn’t easy because of the war and Regulus’ denial that he would be a good boyfriend.

Summary: Admitting that he was in love had never been something that Regulus wanted to do. Now that you were in his life, Regulus didn’t know how to react. Should he love you or push you away just like he had everyone else?

Rating: M

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Link to Part 8

_____

Going back downstairs, you entered the kitchen while Regulus went off to find Sirius. You had a feeling that he was going off to figure out what “laying low” truly meant. Did that mean that the two of you weren’t allowed to leave the house? What about your doctor appointments or when both Regulus and yourself were so sick of being stuck in the house that it was necessary to go out? You also made a mental note about how Regulus would get extra moody if he spent too much time in the house. Talking to Kreacher and moving from room to room only relieved so much.

“Hey.”

You were pulled from your thoughts by Nicolas’ voice. Looking up, you forced a smile as you noticed Nicolas standing there.

“Hey, why are you just standing there?

Nicolas rolled his eyes.

“I would rather be in her by myself than in that dining room while your psycho boyfriend and his brother whisper to each other about me.”

Here we go…

You thought before taking a deep breath. Nicolas was picking a pretty crap day to continue his “I hate Regulus Black” crusade.

“Nicolas, if you just ignore them and not…get them going they may just leave you alone. Also, Regulus is my fiancé, not my boyfriend…I thought that you should know.”

Nicolas’ mouth dropped. Had he heard you correctly? Did you really just say… fiancé? Nicolas nearly fainted the moment that he saw the ring on your hand.

The bastard actually did it.

“Please tell me that you didn’t say yes?”

You tilted your head in slight confusion.

“I don’t think that I would be wearing an engagement ring if I said no. Of course, I said yes. I love Regulus and besides our…”

Nicolas held a hand up a little over dramatically than needed.

“I know your babies will be here soon. Just because he got you pregnant doesn’t mean that you have to marry him. Call me old fashioned but what’s wrong with living in sin? Y/n, you are too good for him. I know that you are not going to be working for a while. Is this Regulus’ way of keeping you barefoot and pregnant…keeping you locked in this haunted house?”

You gripped the counter in front of you as Kreacher hobbled in. He glared at Nicolas.

“Mistress Y/n, would you like Kreacher to toss the trash out?”

You patted Kreacher on the head before turning back to Nicolas.

“Not at the moment, Kreacher. Nicolas, who actually says barefoot and pregnant? That sounds absolutely cliche and disgusting. I am stopping working because I have to lay low for a bit. Sirius and Remus probably told you that. Furthermore, it was always the plan for me to back off of work a bit once the babies were born. I want to experience my children’s lives. You just can’t accept that I don’t want you. You need to move on, Nicolas, before Regulus makes a pinata out of you.”

You turned to leave the room but stopped when Nicolas grabbed your arm. Spinning around, you punched him in the stomach. Maybe it was the hormones? Maybe it was the pending feelings of distress…whatever it was finally snapped. All that you knew was you were tired of Nicolas interfering. He wasn’t going to interfere in your upcoming marriage or anything else for that matter. He could continue to work for the order but that didn’t mean that you HAD to deal with him.

The moment that Nicolas hit the floor you turned and walked out of the room. Kreacher watched you go before glaring back at Nicolas.

“Kreacher suggests that you leave my mistress alone. Master Regulus has killed people before and he can do it again. The door is over there…you can crawl out it.”

Kreacher turned and walked from the room to go and let Regulus know exactly what was happening. He was not about to sit back and watch his favorite human lose the one woman that he loved the most in the world.

Nicolas was barely on his feet when Regulus stormed in with Sirius and Remus behind him. Sirius was muttering to Remus about wishing that he had a muggle video camera and Remus calling him “Grandpa Sirius” because the muggle cell phone had one. Regulus meanwhile, was totally ready to take Nicolas off of the planet.

“You made her upset? You fucking tosspot I’m going to kill you!”

Nicolas sighed. He had no idea that you would hit so hard. Nicolas saw you as some gentle, kind, motherly woman…boy was he wrong.

“I’ll apologize! I wasn’t intending on upsetting her…for what its worth…”

Regulus’ angry grey eyes were locked on Nicolas’ face as he thought about every “dark” torturous spell that he knew. It would be so easy to make Nicolas’ life miserable and now Regulus had every excuse to do it. If the other man thought for one moment that Regulus would hang back and let him ruin the relationship that the two of you had…old Nicky boy had another thing coming.

“Yeah, you’ll apologize right after I give you a carpet burn on your face and toss you down the stairs headfirst!”

Nicolas blinked.

“Are you going to hit me too? I said I would apologize”

Regulus and Sirius both quickly had the same look of confusion on their faces. Who exactly got to Nicolas first? Who beat them to the “grand prize?”

“Wait, who hit you?”

Regulus asked, clearly thrown off of his guard. Nicolas motioned to his stomach, which was still aching.

“Y/n! Look I will apologize I really don’t want to tangle with you. I don’t think I can really compete with this. What more do you people want from me?”

Sirius and Remus both instantly snorted with laughter. Regulus raised an eyebrow before looking extremely proud.

“Y/n hit you?”

Sirius questioned. He HAD to make damn sure that he heard all of this correctly. Nicolas nodded, hanging his head.

“Yeah…in my stomach. Again, what do you people want from me?”

Regulus turned to walk out of the room. At the moment, he had to find you.

“I’ll get back to you”

Regulus replied before walking out of the room and to the dining room where you stood looking out the window.

You looked up when Regulus stepped in with a smirk on his face.

“I heard that you laid down the law. It's truly regretful that I missed it because I would have loved to have had a ringside seat to that.”

A small smile played on your lips.

“He had what was coming to him. I think that it's safe to say that he won’t be trying to gain my love anytime soon.”

Regulus came over to join you at the window.

“I have to know, was it glorious to slug that creep? Did he puke?”

You rolled your eyes and moved to wrap your arms around Regulus’ shoulders. Enjoying the quiet “close” time was just what you needed in order to calm down.

“No, but I could tell that he wanted to. Did you hit him?”

Regulus chuckled and kissed your forehead.

“I was too stunned when he said that you hit him. That is one problem down.”

Indeed it was one problem down. However, as the following few months passed…you slightly wished that Nicolas was all that the two of you had to worry about. After “lying low” for a while, you felt as if you were getting cabin fever with being stuck in the house most of the time.

Sure, Regulus would take you out on dates from time to time but both of you felt “on guard” the whole time. Regulus would be constantly looking around the room for any potential threat. Always being on the lookout for death eaters or any other “undesirable” that would want either of you dead killed the mood

Regulus was still going to work to keep up appearances while you stayed at home. Never in a million years (and sometimes on a daily basis) did you expect to be a housewife yet here you were. You actually didn’t mind it was much as you thought that you would. It would probably have been more enjoyable if some madman that was causing havoc on the wizarding world wasn’t aware of your fiancé's betrayal.

Does Voldemort really care about me? I mean, the man has a lot more important things to worry about than a pregnant fiancé of one of his former death eaters.

This had been one of your thoughts over the whole Regulus vs Voldemort topic. Another part of you knew that Voldemort would seek any chance to “deal with” someone that had wronged him. Killing the twins and yourself, would be one hell of a way for Voldemort to get back at Regulus.

…and that is why I am stuck in the house.

You thought before going downstairs where Regulus sat on the couch with a book on his lap.

“Reggie?”

Regulus looked up with a small smile. He knew that the past few months had started to wear on you. You never complained or fussed but Regulus could see it in your eyes. Between being stuck in the house and being nearly “ready to pop” you were miserable.

“Yes, love?”

You sat down and struggled to get comfortable. For the last month, it felt as if nothing that you did eased the pain in your back or the “little feet” cramming in your ribs.

“I was thinking that I liked the nursery the way it was.”

The smile on Regulus’ face faded. He had rearranged the nursery at least four times this past week. Every day when he came home, you were wanting to move all of the furniture around.

“Love, this is the fourth time this week. I was thinking does it really matter? I mean, aren’t the babies going to be in the room with us for a while…which I also have questions about…how are we supposed to have sex with them lying in the cots beside us? Won’t that be…weird?”

You took a breath.

“I won’t be able to have sex for at 6 weeks afterward by that time I’m hoping to have them in their nursery…which is why I want the furniture moved.”

Regulus stared at you only blinking.

“Y/n…you’ll want me to switch it all back tomorrow. That’s a lot of stuff.”

You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Fine!”

Regulus sighed before standing up. He was quietly muttering to himself that there was just a little bit longer and he would have his normal fiancé back. Regulus was trying his best to deal with your mood swings and random crying fits but it was difficult…especially for someone who was crap at dealing with emotions anyway.

“Okay, how do you want it?”

He replied, softly. The last thing that Regulus wanted to do was make you cry again. After he made you cry over cozy wool socks and pancakes, he mentally swore to never do that again. Even if he had to do the most insane things to make you happy (for example, going to find you chocolate pudding with crushed-up cookies at 3 am) he would suffer through it.

You perked up, knowing that you were getting your way. Regulus held his hand out to help you stand up.

“Well, let me show you.”

You replied, following Regulus up the stairs. You made a mental note to thank Regulus for putting up with your crazy moods. Regulus never complained or made a fuss (even if his face told another story) and you had to give him credit for that.

“Okay, so I was thinking of the cribs over there and the other stuff on that side.”

Regulus blinked a few times fighting the urge to say “That’s literally how we had it last night.”

“If that’s what you want, darling.”

Regulus moved to start moving some of the stuff but stopped when you made a small squeak. He didn’t look up at first as you started looking around.

“Regulus?”

“Mhm? Did you change your mind already?”

Regulus questioned, hoping that you decided that the current room layout was the best.

“No, my water just broke.”

Regulus stood instantly up and looked at you with wide eyes before looking at the puddle around your feet. The panic instantly went through him as he mentally started doing math. It was still a few weeks early. He never expected the babies coming that day! Another day but not that day!

“Oh…fuck.”

Regulus murmured as you put a hand on your stomach wincing.

“Are you in pain?”

He asked quickly, trying to remember what exactly was supposed to happen. The two of you had talked this out several times but suddenly Regulus was clueless and not sure what to do.

“I have been having back pain all day but that isn’t anything weird…maybe it was contractions.”

You commented before moving to sit down. Regulus moved to the door and turned around to stare at you with wide eyes.

“Why are you sitting down? We need to go to the hospital.”

You took a few more deep breaths.

“I don’t think that I’m going to do this, Regulus.”

Regulus looked totally confused.

“Uh, I don’t think that it works that way…”

You held a hand up.

“This world is bad! There is too much bad to bring babies into. What the hell were we thinking?”

Regulus was nervously rubbing the back of his neck. He was supposed to be the certified basket case in this. You were the doctor, the logical one…the calm one…he was just some guy that got totally thrown into something that he never planned.

“We were thinking that vodka made our clothes fall off. “

You gave him a glare.

“You aren’t funny!”

Regulus moved to kneel down in front of you. He took your hands in his.

“Love, everything is going to be okay. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but all of this mess will get straightened out somehow. We probably could have planned kids at a better time but maybe having them not makes this the right time. Things happen when they are supposed to. You may not have chosen me if it happened another time.”

Your eyes softened and the panic vanished. Reaching out, you stroked your hand over Regulus’ cheek.

“I would always choose you. It looks like our babies will be at our wedding after all.”

Regulus chuckled.

“They’re already dramatic, like their uncle.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread to your face as nodded as Regulus stood up.

“Now can we please get you to the hospital before we have the kids here…with no help?"

____

@amelie-black @jessyballet @knreidy1 @justfinishthis @georgeweasleydumbhoe @acciosiriusblack @siriuslyceleste @mimisparkle12 @teletubiswszpilkach @criminalyetminimal @livshifts @stelleduarte @ell0ra-br3kk3r @millies0bsimp @coffeeaddictednymph @readtomeregulus @rogue-nyx88 @panpride @saramaple @missgorldafirst @i-love-scott-mccall @s-we-e-t-t-ea @f4iryluvy @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @gugggu6gvai @jag9000 @quinis @yousmellllikecaca @mentally-unstable-hoe @haroldpotterson @buttercup-beeee @goldensunshineshit @aurorasnape12 @ad-astra-again @padf00ts-l0ver @rubyroscoe1 @spideyxalmighty @lucasfilms77 @marichromatic @ravenhood2792 @play-morezeppelin @dumybitch @lostarc24 @un-lovesherself @melaninnbarbie @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @hankypranky @moldy-old-boot @summer-novak @emiwrites3reads @shaylybaby2032 @knight-of-gleefulness @deanwherescas @shitfaceddaniel-blog @untoldshortsofthefandoms @li0nh34rt @tas898 @sprnaturallover @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner

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the-fiction-witch · 9 months

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The Cult Of Chaos P1

Media The Maze Runner AU X Fantasy

Character Newt

Couple Newt X Reader (Goddess)

Rating Spooky

I sat watching, waiting. As the darkness slowly took over. Slowly but surely each light in the village was extinguished the darkness reclaiming the world. I waited until there was not a single light left for miles. I made sure to hold my bag close to me to prevent the sounds of my movements, I made sure my hood covered my face and body so I could be more merely as a shadow in the darkness. I moved quickly and quietly between the little houses and trees being sure to be silent and secret even moving barefoot through the grass and dirt to make sure I wasn't spotted. I knew the way even in this darkness heading away from town and into the deep woods following the river to my side until I reached the hills and the waterfall. I had long known its secrets so I jumped the river and walked the secret hidden paths until I emerged behind the waterfall I pulled down my hood and I couldn't help my smile finally being at peace again. I headed back into the chamber far from the sounds of the waterfall seeing the black flame still burning at the foot of the altar and the statute carved in Obsidian of a tall black cat. I opened my bag and moved to my knees I filled the altar with flowers, fruits, chocolate, and all manner of usual offerings. And I began my prayers, my praises, my worship as usual all of it bringing me a sweet peace and calm unlike anything else in this world. As I did light filled the chamber as moonlight lit the space through the waterfall and I prayed as hard as I could begging and pleading and I saw a shadow block the light in the silhouette of a tall black cat casting darkness across the stone idol. and I bit my lip with thrilled joy, I had prayed for a visit, begged for a visit, but so far I had not been so lucky. But tonight, her shadow came to me.

And that sound rang out as the light disappeared, the sound of her sly voice as she chuckled maniacally. "Who's this coming to visit?"

"I am a servant of your chaos mistress. An echo of your voice mistress. A taker of your word mistress." I told her, "I have come to praise you. To worship you. To swear my utter devotion. My unconditional subordination. My complete obedience. To you and all that you are, my mistress. My goddess." I told her bowing to her statue completely so much my hands and stomach both were on the stone floor of the chamber.

Her sly laugh came again and I did my best not to jump as I felt the stroke of a fluffy tail against my leg, "Big words for such a cute little thing"

"I mean them, my mistress. Truly"

"That much I can see," she says as her hand stroked my face and picked my chin up to look at her as she stood before the statue, she was beautiful. the tales and stories did not do her justice she was so beautiful, so gorgeous my mind became vacant just for the sight of her and her body in that long red dress," But if you know this much then surely you know what it takes to truly swear your allegiance to me,"

"I-im sorry mistress. Forgive me. I shouldn't have expected as much but you are more beautiful than I had even imagined"

"You're sweet," she smiled "Do you know the price that must be paid?'

"I know only of others who swear to others I know not of the direct specifics to you mistress"

"To swear to me you must visit three times. Each time swear you'd allegiance to me. And each time you sacrifice something of yours, The first is blue, the second is red and the third a white. Once all our collected you will join us here on a summer eve and walk willingly into the flames of chaos. Then and only when you will be mine. You will be sworn to me, your body, your soul and your allegiance for the rest of your days. Are you willing to do this?"

"...I am." I nodded, "I am mistress."

"Not often do men wish to be a part of my cult?"

"I am aware."

"Humm, but you are such a sweet thing." She cooed, "You are welcome to begin the trails I'm sure I'll see you soon Newt."

"Yes, Yes Misstress." I nodded, and as I looked up she was gone, vanished into the darknes.

#tbs smut #thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster #tbs #tbs imagine #thomas brodie sangster smut #newt maze runner #newt imagines #tmr newt smut #tmr newt imagine #newt imagine #maze runner newt #newt tmr

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azkar95 · 1 year

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بعد أحاديث النبي ﷺ عن آخر الزمان :-

Some of Prophet Muhammad ﷺ sayings about the Final Hour :-

▪︎ قَالَ رَسُولُ اللَّهِ ﷺ : «من أَشْرَاطِ السَّاعَةِ أَنْ يَتَبَاهَى النَّاسُ فِي الْمَسَاجِدِ» .

▪︎Anas reported God’s Messenger as saying, “One of the signs of the last hour will be that people will vie with one another about mosques

▪︎عَنْ أَبِي هُرَيْرَةَ، قَالَ قَالَ النَّبِيُّﷺ ‏ "‏ لاَ تَقُومُ السَّاعَةُ حَتَّى يُقْبَضَ الْعِلْمُ، وَتَكْثُرَ الزَّلاَزِلُ، وَيَتَقَارَبَ الزَّمَانُ، وَتَظْهَرَ الْفِتَنُ، وَيَكْثُرَ الْهَرْجُ ـ وَهْوَ الْقَتْلُ الْقَتْلُ ـ حَتَّى يَكْثُرَ فِيكُمُ الْمَالُ فَيَفِيضُ ‏"‏‏.‏

▪︎Narrated Abu Huraira: The Prophet (ﷺ) said, "The Hour (Last Day) will not be established until (religious) knowledge will be taken away (by the death of religious learned men), earthquakes will be very frequent, time will pass quickly, afflictions will appear, murders will increase and money will overflow amongst you."

▪︎عَنْ أَبِي سَعِيدٍ الْخُدْرِيِّ، عَنِ النَّبِيِّ ﷺ قَالَ ‏"‏ لَتَتْبَعُنَّ سَنَنَ مَنْ كَانَ قَبْلَكُمْ شِبْرًا شِبْرًا وَذِرَاعًا بِذِرَاعٍ، حَتَّى لَوْ دَخَلُوا جُحْرَ ضَبٍّ تَبِعْتُمُوهُمْ ‏"‏‏.‏ قُلْنَا يَا رَسُولَ اللَّهِ الْيَهُودُ وَالنَّصَارَى قَالَ ‏"‏ فَمَنْ ‏"‏‏.‏

▪︎Narrated Abu Sa`id Al-Khudri: The Prophet (ﷺ) said, "You will follow the ways of those nations who were before you, span by span and cubit by cubit (i.e., inch by inch) so much so that even if they entered a hole of a mastigure, you would follow them." We said, "O Allah's Messenger (ﷺ)! (Do you mean) the Jews and the Christians?" He said, "Whom else?"

▪︎عَنْ أَبِي هُرَيْرَةَ، قَالَ كَانَ رَسُولُ اللَّهِ ﷺـ , يَوْمًا بَارِزًا لِلنَّاسِ فَأَتَاهُ رَجُلٌ فَقَالَ يَا رَسُولَ اللَّهِ مَتَى السَّاعَةُ فَقَالَ ‏"‏ مَا الْمَسْئُولُ عَنْهَا بِأَعْلَمَ مِنَ السَّائِلِ وَلَكِنْ سَأُخْبِرُكَ عَنْ أَشْرَاطِهَا إِذَا وَلَدَتِ الأَمَةُ رَبَّتَهَا فَذَاكَ مِنْ أَشْرَاطِهَا وَإِذَا كَانَتِ الْحُفَاةُ الْعُرَاةُ رُءُوسَ النَّاسِ فَذَاكَ مِنْ أَشْرَاطِهَا وَإِذَا تَطَاوَلَ رِعَاءُ الْغَنَمِ فِي الْبُنْيَانِ فَذَاكَ مِنْ أَشْرَاطِهَا فِي خَمْسٍ لاَ يَعْلَمُهُنَّ إِلاَّ اللَّهُ ‏"‏ ‏.‏ فَتَلاَ رَسُولُ اللَّهِ ـ صلى الله عليه وسلم ـ ‏{إِنَّ اللَّهَ عِنْدَهُ عِلْمُ السَّاعَةِ وَيُنَزِّلُ الْغَيْثَ وَيَعْلَمُ مَا فِي الأَرْحَامِ}‏ ‏.‏

▪︎It was narrated that Abu Hurairah said: “The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ)

came out one day to the people, and a man came to him and said: ‘O Messenger of Allah, when will the Hour be?’ He said: ‘The one who is asked about it does not know more than the one who is asking. But I will tell you of its portents. When the slave woman gives birth to her mistress, that is one of its portents. When the barefoot and naked become leaders of the people, that is one of its portents. When shepherds compete in constructing buildings, that is one of its portents. (The Hour) is one of five (things) which no one knows except Allah.’ Then the Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) recited the words: “Verily, Allah, with Him (alone) is the knowledge of the Hour, He sends down the rain, and knows that which is in the wombs. (to the end of the Verse).” [31: 34]

▪︎ عَنْ زَيْنَبَ بِنْتِ جَحْشٍ، أَنَّ النَّبِيَّ صلى الله عليه وسلم اسْتَيْقَظَ مِنْ نَوْمِهِ وَهُوَ يَقُولُ ‏"‏ لاَ إِلَهَ إِلاَّ اللَّهُ وَيْلٌ لِلْعَرَبِ مِنْ شَرٍّ قَدِ اقْتَرَبَ فُتِحَ الْيَوْمَ مِنْ رَدْمِ يَأْجُوجَ وَمَأْجُوجَ مِثْلُ هَذِهِ ‏"‏ ‏.‏ وَعَقَدَ سُفْيَانُ بِيَدِهِ عَشَرَةً ‏.‏ قُلْتُ يَا رَسُولَ اللَّهِ أَنَهْلِكُ وَفِينَا الصَّالِحُونَ قَالَ ‏"‏ نَعَمْ إِذَا كَثُرَ الْخَبَثُ ‏"‏ ‏.‏

▪︎Zainab bint Jahsh reported that Allah's Apostle (ﷺ) got up from sleep saying: There is no being worthy of worship except Allah; there is a destruction in store for Arabia because of turmoil which is at hand, the barrier of Gog and Magog has opened so much. And Sufyan made a sign of ten with the help of his hand (in order to indicate the width of the gap) and I said: Allah's Messenger, would we be perished in spite of the fact that there would be good people amongst us? Thereupon he said: Of course, but only when the evil predominates.

▪︎عَنِ النَّبِيِّ ﷺ قَالَ‏:‏ بَيْنَ يَدَيِ السَّاعَةِ‏:‏ تَسْلِيمُ الْخَاصَّةِ، وَفُشُوُّ التِّجَارَةِ حَتَّى تُعِينَ الْمَرْأَةُ زَوْجَهَا عَلَى التِّجَارَةِ، وَقَطْعُ الأَرْحَامِ، وَفُشُوُّ الْقَلَمِ، وَظُهُورُ الشَّهَادَةِ بِالزُّورِ، وَكِتْمَانُ شَهَادَةِ الْحَقِّ‏

▪︎the Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said:

"Before the Final Hour people willthe single out one individual for the greeting, commerce will increase until a woman helps her husband in business, people will sever their links with their relatives, knowledge will spread, false testimony will appear and true testimony will be concealed."

▪︎عَنْ أَبِي هُرَيْرَةَ، قَالَ قَالَ رَسُولُ اللَّهِ ـ ﷺ ‏ "‏ سَيَأْتِي عَلَى النَّاسِ سَنَوَاتٌ خَدَّاعَاتٌ يُصَدَّقُ فِيهَا الْكَاذِبُ وَيُكَذَّبُ فِيهَا الصَّادِقُ وَيُؤْتَمَنُ فِيهَا الْخَائِنُ وَيُخَوَّنُ فِيهَا الأَمِينُ وَيَنْطِقُ فِيهَا الرُّوَيْبِضَةُ قِيلَ وَمَا الرُّوَيْبِضَةُ قَالَ الرَّجُلُ التَّافِهُ فِي أَمْرِ الْعَامَّةِ ‏"‏ ‏.‏

▪︎the Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said:

“There will come to the people years of treachery, when the liar will be regarded as honest, and the honest man will be regarded as a liar; the traitor will be regarded as faithful, and the faithful man will be regarded as a traitor; and the Ruwaibidah will decide matters.’ It was said: ‘Who are the Ruwaibidah?’ He said: ‘Vile and base men who control the affairs of the people.’”

#islamic #islamic design #islam #islamic reminder #دعاء #islamic advice #quran #اذكار الصباح #اذكار #اذكار المساء #حديث شريف #hadeeth #prophet muhammad #جمعه مباركه #رمضان #تذكير #islamdaily

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spntoxicfemslashevent · 9 months

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full prompt list

hey everyone! this is the full february prompt list for this event. we're going to have six prompts every day, so it's big! smaller versions containing only some of the prompts are forthcoming. ideally a piece submitted for a certain day should be inspired by at least one of the prompts for that day.

[conceptual prompts only] [pairing prompts only] [format/style prompts only] [prompts by date] [submission guidelines] [intro post]

conceptual prompts:

feb 1: manipulation || rot || political play

feb 2: tied up || burning flesh || jealousy

feb 3: suburbia || betrayal/judas kiss || doll

feb 4: blackmail || cannibalism || age gap

feb 5: blasphemy || executioner || genderless

feb 6: “...and it felt like a kiss” || on the rack || handmaiden-feudal lord

feb 7: sainthood || blood || isolation

feb 8: poison/drugging || barefoot and pregnant || murder suicide

feb 9: scars || heaven and/or hell || voyeurism

feb 10: shallow grave/midnight gardening || exes || serial killer(s)

feb 11: crossdressing || corpse || brat

feb 12: war/opposite sides || soulmates || guts/gore

feb 13: demonization || immortality || "forgive me father"

feb 14: unrequited || butch || imprisonment

feb 15: high school sweethearts || justifications || resurrection

feb 16: stabbing || masturbation || somnophilia

feb 17: turn the straight girl || kidnapping || ritual sacrifice

feb 18: stalking || substance use/abuse || comp het

feb 19: amnesia/mindwipe/lobotomy || flogging || forcefem

feb 20: vessel || make each other worse || gothic

feb 21: mistress || forced marriage || petplay

feb 22: demon deal || power imbalance || state of mind/dreams/confusion

feb 23: experiment || bastard child || what happened to her first husband/wife?

feb 24: curses || possession || infidelity

feb 25: controlling || temptation || "i ran into a door"

feb 26: victim || right hand || true crime

feb 27: humiliation || dubious consent || brainwashing

feb 28: family || true form || obsession

feb 29: closeted || sins of the father || not passing the bechdel test

pairing prompts:

feb 1: rowena mcleod/billie

feb 2: linda tran/ofc

feb 3: hannah/naomi

feb 4: rowena mcleod/alicia banes

feb 5: raphael/billie

feb 6: amelia novak/naomi

feb 7: abaddon/colette mullen

feb 8: ruby/astaroth

feb 9: cassie robinson/fem!dean winchester

feb 10: linda tran/mary winchester

feb 11: cassie robinson/meg masters

feb 12: linda tran/abaddon

feb 13: risa (endverse)/meg masters

feb 14: kelly kline/dagon

feb 15: linda tran/tasha banes

feb 16: billie/amara/the empty (meg)

feb 17: meg masters/jo harvelle

feb 18: patience turner/claire novak

feb 19: mary winchester/antonia bevell

feb 20: lily sunder/claire novak

feb 21: bela talbot/ruby

feb 22: patience turner/magda peterson

feb 23: fem!castiel/fem!crowley

feb 24: missouri moseley/ellen harvelle

feb 25: jody mills/donna hanscum

feb 26: lily baker/lilith

feb 27: hannah/caroline johnson

feb 28: raphael/naomi

feb 29: eileen leahy/mary winchester

format/style prompts:

day 1: canon divergent || drabble (exactly 100 words)

day 2: canon character/oc || traditional art

day 3: scifi au || non-traditional art medium

day 4: post-canon || gifset

day 5: canon compliant || metered poetry

day 6: reverse!verse/roleswap || sketch

day 7: epistolary || flash fiction

day 8: episode rewrite || fanmix

day 9: gender changes - het to femslash || script format

day 10: canon a little to the left || headcanon

day 11: outsider pov || fancam

day 12: 5 + 1 || exquisite corpse/round robin

day 13: for want of a nail || sequel

day 14: dark fluff || webweave

day 15: vignettes/fragments || fansong

day 16: polyamory || abstract

day 17: unreliable narrator || screencap edit

day 18: meta plot/metafandom/carver edlund novels || non-song based fanvid

day 19: crossover/fusion || multimedia

day 20: trans headcanon || podfic

day 21: humor || amv

day 22: au || fiber arts

day 23: gender changes - slash to femslash || comic

day 24: pre-canon || digital art

day 25: omegaverse || sentence fics

day 26: mundane au || photography

day 27: selfcest || freeverse poetry

feb 28: character study || fanwork-of-a-fanwork

feb 29: rashomon style || fic rec list

#housekeeping #spntoxicfemslash #prompt #long post

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im-a-wonderling · 1 year

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A Union of Obligation

I wasn’t actually planning on writing a continuation of Sorrows can Swim, but writing inspiration is an unpredictable mistress, and it was already written when @thepenultimateword requested a continuation. More to add to the @fantasci-side-blog I guess 😂

Word count: 3.3k

Sorrows Can Swim masterlist

Prince shoved aside his lunch, sliding a paper describing trade routes into the place vacated by the bowl of soup that wasn’t at all warm anymore.

Trade with Tunica and his own kingdom had always been strained, but managing the routes was crucial for maintaining the peace between the two kingdoms. If it wasn’t crucial, Prince would not have acted as swiftly as he did to avoid Princess’s name falling into scandal. If the Tunican king found out that his daughter had consorted with a lowly soldier from Prince’s kingdom, the repercussions would’ve been catastrophic for both lands. Prince hoped his new marriage would go beyond simply saving face, solidifying the bond and giving way to beneficence for all.

He’d already seen the beginnings of that hope’s fruition.

Reports of celebrations throughout both kingdoms had reached him, and there were rumors circulating the court that this union marked the beginning of a golden age.

Well, at least his marriage was good for something.

He rubbed his forehead. If a golden age was in the future, why had the requirements of his position doubled?

Sure, before the wedding, he’d spent nearly every day dealing with some odd commission. But in the fortnight since the wedding, the only day he’d had off was the day immediately following his wedding.

To all outsiders, it was easy to assume those hours had been spent intimately getting to know his new wife. In reality, he’d spent them pretending to work in their sitting room while listening to Princess’s bilious sounds coming from their bathroom.

Clearly Princess didn’t drink liquor all that often, a fact that both relieved and worried Prince. He didn’t want an alcoholic for a wife, but if she drank far beyond her limits because of marrying him…

Prince sat back in his chair, giving up on the trade routes. He let out a deep breath and allowed his eyes to fall shut. The expectations that came with being royalty were always exhausting, but he’d been freer. Before, he could go for a horse ride, eat alone, sleep alone, and go gallivanting through the city to his heart’s content.

Now, he was a married man.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Prince called, wearily rubbing his eyes.

“Your Highness.”

Prince glanced over at the man who came in and, at first glance, nothing seemed amiss. But then Prince noticed the mud decorating the man’s shoes. The servants, occupied with the cleanliness of the castle, should’ve made him change footwear or at least go barefoot rather than track mud over the expensive carpet. Then, he saw the piece of paper clenched in the scout’s hand, for the man could be nothing else.

Prince sat up straight, holding out his hand for the paper. “What is it?”

“I’ve come from the watchtower.” The scout handed the page to Prince, who quickly opened it, taking in the information. “We spotted a company of soldiers marching through the forest, all bearing the Tunica coat of arms.”

“What did they say when they stated their purpose?”

“Your Highness, they…didn’t stop to do so.”

Prince only just managed to keep his thoughts from leaping from his mouth. There shouldn’t be a company across the border at all, and if they hadn’t stopped to talk of their intent…

The scout shifted, likely uncomfortable being in the room with Prince with such a tense silence.

The scout had done his job, Prince reminded himself. The information was known, and now actions could be made because of this warning. “Thank you. Please, go down to the kitchens for refreshment before you leave the castle.”

The scout bowed and retreated.

Prince gave him the count of ten before storming out of the room and down the hallway, the report clenched tightly in his hand.

One thing he’d learned about his wife since their wedding was how much Princess loved to sleep in. Prince could be dressed, fed, and already halfway through his tasks for the day when Princess stumbled out of the bedchamber and into the sitting room.

If one wanted to paint an angel waking from sleep, Prince knew exactly what it would look like, for Princess never looked quite so divine as she did when her countenance was weighed down with sleepiness…and it was her ethereality that tugged at Prince’s heartstrings like nothing else. She would yawn and lift her arms up towards the sky, her eyes falling shut as she stretched. Then, one hand would drop to trace a path down her face while the other ran through her slightly disheveled hair.

Prince shook his head.

Considering the sun’s position, she would certainly be awake by now, which was good, because he needed her.

…for affairs.

…of state.

Prince rounded the corner, opening the door of their suite, expecting Princess to be amusing herself with sewing or reading.

But the sitting room was empty.

He glanced out the window. The sun was high in the sky. Could she possibly still be in bed?

Shaking his head, he reached for the polished doorknob of their bedchamber. He almost pushed it open, ready to catch sight of her, when he heard the sound of giggling.

His fingers froze, his ears strained.

More giggling.

It’s probably one of Princess’s lady’s maids, he told himself, the hand holding the forgotten paper limp at his side. They were a giggly bunch, and if Princess had just woken, they’d be helping her dress anyway.

But there was a pit in his stomach and a lump in his throat as a preternatural sense of dread seized control of him. He clenched the doorknob, praying he was wrong. It was a prince’s job to be prepared for the worst possible scenario. Paranoia was a useful skill when one couldn’t make any mistakes. That’s all this was. It was his paranoia making him think the worst of the situation.

Then his ears caught the unmistakable sound of a moan.

His grip tightened in time with his heart, and he flung the door open.

Princess and Guard leapt away from each other, looking at him with shock, which quickly morphed into guilt as details bombarded Prince’s brain.

A padded vest, resting a foot from Prince’s feet.

The way both of their chests heaved.

A woven tunic discarded on the armchair.

Princess’s curls, dislodged from their normally careful hairstyle.

Guard’s bare torso.

The partially undone laces of Princess’s dress.

All semblance of composure slipped from Prince’s grasp, and his fist clenched, reducing the report into a ball of paper.

Guard and Princess didn’t move. They both just stared at him, frozen pillars of uncertainty.

Then Princess began to wring her hands together, lowering her eyes to the floor with pink cheeks. Guard, however, continued looking at Prince straight on, directly contrary to the disparity between their stations.

Somewhere, a tea kettle must’ve been boiling, because Prince’s ears filled with shrill whistling.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Three breaths.

“I believe you’re supposed to be on duty elsewhere,” Prince calmly told Guard.

Guard walked slowly towards the door, bending to pick up his vest.

“Don’t forget your–” Princess began, reaching for the tunic on the patterned armchair, but Prince was already there.

“Yes,” he said slowly before turning to face Guard, “you can hardly return to your post half-dressed.” He held out the garment.

Guard flicked his eyes towards Princess. Prince nearly turned around, aching to see what expression lay within the devastating beauty of Princess’s face, but he steeled his resolve. Guard inched closer, gingerly taking the tunic from Prince’s outstretched hand. In the split-second before Guard turned away, his eyes met Prince’s.

Prince was transported back to their private conversation in the library, and judging by the look on Guard’s face, Guard was reliving it as well. Prince couldn’t decide if he wanted to hit Guard now more than he’d wanted to then.

Despite the conclusion of their conversation, whatever he saw in Prince’s expression made Guard pale, his first sign of discomfort, and he quickly left the room, leaving the door open.

Prince faced Princess.

Her red cheeks suggested a modicum of shame.

Prince just stared at her, forgetting what he’d come here to do and the threat that was marching closer to the castle. All his strength went into taming the tornado of thoughts and feelings within him. Once the roar inside finally dulled, he opened his mouth, fully intending to ask her to compose herself and accompany him to the councilroom.

Then he made the mistake of looking at her lips.

Her normally perfectly pink and plump lips were angry red.

Swollen.

From Guard, the man who respected her so little that he never tried to do the right thing by her. He hadn’t even stepped up to do the right thing when Prince threatened him.

Princess’d let such a man kiss her.

Red-hot anger boiled underneath his skin, tearing apart every natural connection that held his body together until all that held Prince together was rage. It frothed inside him, multiplying every negative feeling tenfold.

But even as the ugly feelings spumed, he couldn’t bring himself to allow them to erupt, not at her. Even if she deserved it and perhaps even expected it.

Without a word, he turned away, leaving the suite as fast as his legs could carry him.

He would solve the issue with Tunica without her.

Prince didn’t go back to their bedchamber. Even when the sun set and the rest of the castle had gone to sleep, he remained in his study, pacing back and forth, alone save for the candles that were steadily burning shorter and shorter.

He’d sent a message to his father-in-law, inquiring as to the intent of the company of soldiers currently headed towards his castle. Their numbers weren’t great enough to be of any threat, but their presence indicated something more sinister. As it was, he’d prepared the defenses of the castle, just in case.

Now the only thing he could do was wait, either for a response or for the arrival of the soldiers.

Which he could technically do from his bed.

But how could he go back? How could he lay beside Princess, in between the sheets, when she so clearly didn’t want him?

The thoughts whirled around and around, picking up speed as the hours passed by.

How soon after the wedding had Princess resumed her tryst with Guard? How many times had Prince laid in that bed not knowing that he was only the second man to slide between the sheets that day?

His patience slipped, and he slammed his fist down on the desk, breathing hard.

Prince thought he’d had burdens, but this extraordinary affection he carried for a woman who barely looked at him before she was to marry him? It weighed him down, changing him from an unhampered bachelor to a lovesick fool.

He would do well to not think of her, but he wasn’t convinced there would ever be a day when he didn’t.

Behind him, he heard the whisper of the door opening. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Only two people possessed the rank to come into his study without knocking first, and he knew his father had no reason to come in this late.

“Can I help you?” he asked cooly, leaning forward to pluck some arbitrary scroll from his desk. He opened it, his eyes not taking in the meaning of any of the words as he waited.

The only thing Prince could hear was his own breathing, his own heartbeat, as if she wasn’t here at all, simply hiding somewhere within him.

“You haven’t come to bed.” Her timid voice spoke of reluctant, but clear worry.

As it should, he furiously thought. She was a married member of royalty fooling around with a man other than her husband, someone of lower rank. And she hadn’t even locked the door.

She didn’t ask a question, the slight lilt of her comment the only indication that she wanted him to speak.

Well, he wouldn’t.

She’d stolen his own heart away from him; he wasn’t about to let her steal his silence too.

“Are you…coming to bed tonight?”

Prince couldn’t decipher her tone without seeing her face, and he couldn’t see her face without picturing those swollen lips.

What did she want from him? Yes, they slept in the same bed, but with their backs to each other and without speaking. She couldn’t possibly think he’d missed the way she placed a wall pillows in between their bodies every night.

“Prince–”

“If you’re lonely,” he said before he could stop himself, “I imagine Guard will gladly keep you company.”

So much for her not stealing his silence.

There was no reply. Prince replayed the comment in his head, realizing how harsh it was. Guilt infested his insides, twisting and turning around his organs, turning them black from the inside. With a sigh, he turned to face Princess. “Look, I’m–”

She wasn’t wearing a dressing gown over her white sleeping shift.

He kept his eyes dutifully trained on her face, refusing to let his focus dip down even a centimeter. Nonetheless, he felt his cheeks fill with color. Was he a juvenile? For crying out loud, he’d seen fully bare women before. Why did he get such a thrill just from seeing her uncovered arms and collarbones peeking out from the simple sleeves of her nightgown?

Princess stepped forward hesitantly. “I don’t want you to be angry.”

He was angry. He was seething, but seeing her face made it…so…hard…

He dropped his gaze, replacing her bare arms and undone hair with the gold designs in the velvet carpet. “I am well aware that you hold no affection for me.” He took a ragged breath. “Ours is a union of obligation, not fondness or…or love.” Heavens, those words maimed him, each one a dagger.

Clinging to the pain, he used it to bring him fire. He slowly met her eyes. “But marriage…especially a royal marriage…requires fidelity.”

Princess jutted out her chin. “This marriage wasn’t my idea.”

“That may be so, but you agreed to it.”

“Under duress!”

“And who’s responsible for your duress?” Prince snapped. “If you’re blaming me for that too, you are not as bright as I thought!”

Princess advanced on him, her eyes alight with vexation. “You have no right–”

“To what?” Prince stepped forward too, refusing to be cowed. “To speak the truth? Guard is the reason you married me, supposedly against your will, and yet I find you in an indecent position with him today! Have you learned nothing?”

“You certainly think tremendously of yourself, to lecture me in this fashion!”

“Maybe so,” Prince retorted, “but you are far too obstinate to agree to this marriage unless you saw the need for it. If you didn’t, no one could have forced you to make those vows for all the world!”

Princess growled right in his face, the sound filling him with heat. “Yes, there was a need for it. And you are correct, if there wasn’t, I never would’ve married you.”

“Is that so?” Prince replied, feeling his gut whip into a heartbroken frenzy. “Well, whatever reason there was, whether you wanted it or not, there is no way out of this. You are my wife. I am your husband. And if anyone finds you in Guard’s embrace, both of you might lose your heads!”

Prince didn’t realize how close they’d gotten until he could see every aspect of the fear that flashed in Princess’s wide eyes. He cursed himself, because once again his mouth had run ahead of his brain, and now she was scared for her life.

He reached out his hand to touch her shoulder. “You don’t–” he began to say.

Princess peered up at him, moisture gathering in her eyes, giving them a glossy appearance. “Guard could be killed?”

Prince nearly bit his tongue.

Her concern was not for her reputation, for their kingdoms, but for that man. Over and over, she chose Guard over everything else.

“There is no telling what might happen,” he said, unable to muster much volume over the roaring of his heart. Princess lowered her head, looking downcast. “If you are not careful…I fear the consequences will be steep.”

When she lifted her head, he caught sight of the determined twist of her mouth. “We’ll be more careful.”

Prince balled his fists, trying to stop the hurt. She wasn’t going to stop her relations with Guard, she wasn’t even going to get angry at Guard for his carelessness or demand better of him. She was going to continue on her current path.

He couldn’t stand keeping it from her anymore. He grabbed her hands. “Listen to me. Guard–”

“I know you hate him.”

“No, he–”

Princess lifted her hand to stop his words, her fingers cold against his lips, and every nerve in Prince’s body lit up. She’s touching me, his body sang, she’s touching me. Nothing had ever silenced him so effectively as he waited for Princess to speak.

Her eyes beseeched him, for what, he didn’t know, but he knew he would give her anything and everything she asked for.

“I love him.”

She might as well have gutted him.

“I love him,” she said again, as if he hadn’t heard her well enough the first time. “He and I, we’ll be better about it, I promise.”

Promise.

Prince made a promise as well—a promise to Guard that he wouldn’t tell Princess of what had been said in their conversation in the library. He’d only made it because he knew the information would crush Princess, and unlike Guard, Prince couldn’t ever do anything that hurt her.

Princess didn’t understand, and he longed for her to understand.

But as he looked at her, she seemed so small, with desperation in her eyes and, underneath that, the love she spoke of. Whatever she had with Guard, it meant everything to her. Prince believed that she loved Guard, perhaps as she had never loved anyone before. He wished he didn’t believe it.

He pulled her hand away from his mouth. “Okay,” he managed to say, and the pain was all worth it for the hope that lit up her face. “Be smarter about it.” She nodded, and he stepped away. “Now, please, go back to bed.”

Princess nodded and started towards the door.

Some string linking them grew tight, the attachment point in his chest going tight. “Wait.” Princess turned to look at him.

Prince quickly undid his laces and pulled his sleeves out of his arms. “Take my doublet. It’s too cold for you to be walking around in just your nightgown.”

Princess padded forward, allowing him to wrap his jacket around her. He started doing the laces up again, pulling the fabric together to block those lovely collarbones from view. The burden of her attention on him nearly made him crumple to his knees in a vow of fealty, but he focused on his task.

Far too soon, it was over.

And yet, Princess didn’t head back for the door.

She simply remained where she was, looking up at him. He gazed back at her, his eyes trailing the features he already knew by heart. Someday, when he was old and his memory started to fail, he knew he would always be able to describe her perfectly.

He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “Goodnight.”

Quick as he could, he walked back to his desk, taking a seat and pulling out that same scroll, making a great effort to move his eyes from side to side as if he were reading.

Princess shuffled towards the door.

Prince could’ve sworn he heard a whispered goodnight, but he couldn’t be sure.

Either way, she slipped out of his study, and the door clicked shut behind her, leaving the room far emptier than it’d been a moment before.

The string in his chest stretched, pulling him forward, tightening to the point of pain. Instead of following her, Prince slouched back in his chair, the scroll tumbling to the floor.

His eyes fell on the report from earlier, rumpled from when he’d crushed it in his anger earlier.

Even if he didn’t tell her the truth about Guard, he should’ve told her about what was brewing between their kingdoms.

But he feared Princess only cared if one specific man were sent into the skirmish, and it wasn’t him.

Part 3

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