#had the displeasure of being taught by

[doostyaudi]

I wish the madness combat Fandom was as nice to be in on any other social media, it's nice here, but nowhere else is

[hurlingdown]

Grr i love your zoro fic, do you write for ftm character? If you do please ftm sanji x domtop male reader 🫠🫠🫠 WANNA EAT HIM OUT SB

I WANT MORE! — TOP MALE READER X VINSMOKE SANJI

synopsis. sex with sanji always feels good. it's exciting. and fun. there's an issue though: it's just good, but never too good. well, here's the thing — sometimes, overwhelming pleasure bordering on overstimulation might be a good way to spice things up . . . wc. 1.7k

tags. ftm! brat! sanji, dom! reader. cunnilingus, squirting, multiple orgasms, cum eating, overstimulation, choking with thighs, reader's a little little mean, fluff!

Sanji gasped into the back of his hand, panting desperately. 

Two warm palms had reached between his thighs and gently pried them open, a wet sensation digging into his clothed cunt. 

“F-fucking hell, sweetheart,” Sanji muttered as your tongue drew up to swipe against his soaked clit. He let out a sharp exhale as you mouthed him through his boxers, wetly sucking at the fat nub. “What—what is this? Where’d you learn this from?” 

You didn’t respond, too occupied with what was in front of you. The stain only grew in size as you buried your face into the sweet, musky scent, and you hummed with satisfaction, making him jolt with a whine as the vibration sent a shockwave of pleasure straight into him. 

“Answer—hn, me!” Strong thighs clamped down around your head as he mindlessly rutted back against your mouth, making you see stars. “Who taught you?” 

“No one,” you said, or at least tried to say, as your mouth was muzzled by Sanji pushing his wet cunt at you, smearing your face with saliva and slick. You had read about it in one of Robin’s books, and had wanted to try it. 

“What? Who?” he asked dumbly, throwing his head back onto the pillow as he rocked his hips against your mouth, trying to coax your tongue out. “It better not have been those—hngh, women at the island!” 

You almost wanted to laugh at how ironic it was, that the infamous Vinsmoke Sanji—known for being a womaniser—was now jealous of the women he usually fawned over. 

“Hn, hah, this ain’t half bad—” 

You growled, annoyed at him for using your mouth like one of his toys. You held his thighs still over your shoulder to stop him from moving, lips curling with amusement at the way his hips bucked, not understanding your displeasure. “What?” Sanji panted, raising his head to glance at you irritatedly. “Get on movin’!” 

You frowned. Who did he think he was? 

With measured strength, you pulled back just enough to show him a sickly sweet smile. “Shall I help you take it off, Sanji?” Fingers grasped the hem of his boxers as you pressed two thumbs into his lower crotch, enjoying the way he squirmed at your touch. 

“Y-yeah,” he muttered. “Take it off already.” 

What a brat. Perhaps you spoiled him a little too often. 

You peeled the clothing off, revealing a lovely, fleshy pink cunt, its lips parted and drooling all over the sheets already. It was always a sight to have him under you, his hole pulsing around you as you drilled your thick cock into him, but this—this was something else entirely.

“Hold your legs open for me.” 

“What?” 

“Do it, or you won’t be coming tonight.” 

Sanji frowned, opening his mouth as though to argue back but then deciding against it, that getting to come was far more important than any sense of self-worth tonight. He reluctantly brought his legs up and slowly spread them for you, flushing and trembling as the action exposed the entirety of his pussy to you. 

Sanji thrust up against you impatiently and you immediately grabbed his hips, tight enough to bruise. You glared up at him with a warning, to which he completely ignored. “Hurry up, sweetheart,” he griped, rubbing his wet folds on your lips. “Wanna come.” 

Oh. So that was all that he thought of you: something for him to hump on. You were going to teach him a lesson. 

“Yeah?” You grinned. “You wanna come?” 

“So bad,” Sanji whined, hips bucking as you held him still. “Just fucking go already!” 

You pretended to frown and pull away, only to have him whimper, eyes widening and shaking his head frantically. “You want me to go? I’ll go.” 

“No! Not what I meant—goddammit, sweetheart, you know what I want, so give it to me already.” 

You barked out a laugh. “I’m not a mind reader, am I? How am I supposed to know what you’re thinking?” 

Sanji glowered at you, almost shivering with frustration. He knew what you wanted. You wanted to see him beg, to come undone before you even touched him properly, and he was so close to doing whatever you wanted him to if it meant he would finally be able to come. He squeezed his eyes shut, sparing them of any humiliation. 

“Please,” he whined your name softly. “Fuck me with your tongue.” 

You smiled, pleased. “Fine with me.” 

Without wasting a moment, you shoved his hips up at the same time as your tongue plunged down, sliding between the slick folds of his pussy to penetrate him. Sanji jackknifed off the bed with a hoarse scream, one hand letting go of his thigh to blindly grab for your hair, tugging at the strands painfully. 

“Oh fuck—please!” he cried out, legs spasming as he shoved your mouth deeper into his cunt. You lapped at his insides with abandon, drinking and swallowing greedily the slick that drenched his hole, enjoying the way the salty tang of it rolled deep down your throat and left a fragrant aftertaste. 

Drool dripped down your chin as you ate him out messily, loosening the most tender parts of his insides the way you had never been able to: by pounding your fat cock inside his pussy, or having him take your thick fingers as you stretched him out—those were good, too, but no, this was so much more sensual, and tasted so much better, and you were almost angry at yourself for not trying this sooner. 

Sanji was a sobbing, whining mess when you raised your head to look at him again, eyes glistening with unshed tears as he cried out your name, begging you to take him and then take more of him. “So fuckin’—good!” he moaned loudly. “I want more!” 

It’s filthy, humiliating, and so fucking arousing, and before he knew it, he was rutting back against your face, lost in so much pleasure, all at once way too much and not nearly enough to satisfy just yet—

“I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come!” Sanji screamed, back bowing off the bed as he came all over your face, thighs involuntarily clamping down hard around your neck, choking you so hard you blacked out for a second. 

The next thing he saw when he came to his senses was your face, shiny with his come and slick, edging toward his pulsing cunt again. 

You grinned at him, almost wickedly. 

“No, no, no.” Sanji shook his head wildly. “No more. I just came, please, sweetheart, please—” 

“You said you wanted more.” 

“Just give me a second—I’ll be ready for you in a second. Please, baby.” 

You ignored him. “I’m going to give you what you want, since you’ve been so good for me. Right, Sanji?” 

Without waiting for his answer, you grabbed him by the ass and hoisted him up into the air, sucking eagerly at his oversensitive clit as his breath seized up, lips parting and yet unable to make noise anymore, just trembling and convulsing as the muscles in his thighs continued to spasm with too much pleasure it nearly bordered on pain. 

Tears rolled down his cheeks as Sanji gasped and shuddered, clutching your hair so hard you thought you felt them getting torn up by the roots. And then you committed the next atrocity. Instead of diving in and slurping his pussy like you did before, you stuck your tongue out, using the hands gripping his ass to slowly push his cunt up your tongue, and then down, and then up again, repeatedly—fucking your tongue with his hole. 

Sanji gave a helpless whimper that sounded suspiciously like your name as he writhed on your tongue, pupils so dilated you could barely see their rim. “Please,” you thought you heard him sob faintly, as though he wasn’t sure what he was begging for anymore. 

“Please what?” 

This was his last chance to stop you—you weren’t that cruel, after all. 

“Please,” he cried weakly, “make me come again!” 

You grinned, a sense of pride overwhelming you as you dove back in to finish the job—he was so well-trained, so good for you. And who were you to deny him? He was begging so nicely, after all. 

Sanji let out a stream of broken moans as you continued your assault on his pussy, his thighs clenching around your head so tightly that stars pooled at the edges of your vision. Your tongue reached deep inside him and caressed a spot so good and fucking right that the coil of pleasure in his stomach started to get looser, and wetter, like a dam being driven to burst—a feeling he scarcely ever felt, but whenever he did, whenever he did—

You latched your mouth over his entrance, sealing it properly as he squirted down your throat. 

His lower half went limp in your arms as he continued to tremble and whimper, and you feared for a second that you might have broken him. But when he opened his half-lidded eyes to look at you with a tenderness that you rarely ever saw, you knew that wasn’t the case. 

“Never knew—” Sanji panted for breath, “that you could be so mean.” 

“Did you like it?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Want to do it again?” 

He snapped out of his daze, eyes widening with horror. 

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. “Not now. I meant after.” 

“Oh,” Sanji said, softly. “That would be wonderful, sweetheart.” A second shock seized him as he looked at you, almost guiltily. “What about you? You haven’t come yet.” 

“No. Making you feel good was enough.” You smiled reassuringly, despite the fact that you were so hard it fucking hurt, aching with the need to feel his cunt tightening around it, but you knew he wouldn’t be able to take it. You’d take care of it later, in the shower, maybe, jerking off to thoughts of earlier. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes. Go sleep, I know you’re tired. I’ll clean you up. And, I love you.” 

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he mumbled tiredly. “So much.” 

masterlist! # i apologise for accidentally blue-balling the reader again it was not my intention; also i love you anon i didn't know i needed this until i started imagining it

[pearlywritings]

A slip of the tongue

synopsis: as smart as Alhaitham is, sometimes he blurts out things without thinking twice. It's good, however, that your husband knows when an apology is due, even though it doesn't mean you (and your friend) won't come up with something to pay him back with~

pairing and characters: Alhaitham x fem!reader

tw: established relationship (marriage), little hurt/instant comfort, a bit suggestive, Kaveh is lowkey couple's marriage counselor

word count: 3.7k+ words

a/n: wow, finally releasing this one out of the basement!

Here is the second part btw

Your cheek starts hurting from how long the knuckles of your fist have been digging into it. Fingertips drum on your knee, as legs stay crossed and stare fixed on the figure before you, sitting on the chair across the table and not taking the eyes off of the book pages. The most infuriating part of it? The figure is talking.

"...and so you should be prepared for Rajkumar's endless questions. He might not have any relation to Haravatat or languages at all, but he has a bone to pick with me, so being my wife puts you in a position to attack. And you know how annoying it is to converse with an idiot."

Yeah, probably as much as hearing what you are already aware of. You love your husband, you truly do, but sometimes the urge to smack the back of his head and tell him to shut up is too tempting.

All you said was that you were a little nervous and mentioned that tomorrow is indeed one of the most important days for you. After all, you are going to defend your second thesis, one you spent years to complete and pass all sorts of verification, reviews and censorship. Having the Scribe as your husband had both its perks and drawbacks in the process - he could easily push your work forward to the necessary people in charge of all the mentioned above stages of approbation, but then the fact he was your spouse put a label on you for those who were aware, and it said “Needs to be examined more thoroughly”. Though come to think of it, it’s pretty illogical.

Fortunately you never had troubles with that - after all your brain was in place, and both topics of your first and now current papers were innovative. Moreso, many of your Haravatat professors agree on your academic success and some of them expressed their hope to see you in the role of their colleague in the future.

But it’s for the future. First you need to become the Dastur, and for that you need to defend your thesis in the present. You have absolutely everything ready, no one knows your topic better than you are (maybe only Alhaitham can come close, since he read and reread it multiple times, helping with editing and providing impartial perspective), and years at the Akademyia taught you how to withstand the piercing eyes and prickling words of the jury. You will be fine.

Or you thought so, before just one phrase of yours started this whole exchange that is now happening in your kitchen.

“...and remember the part in the third chapter we discussed with you. This will be the one they’ll claw at, since it’s a turning point in a whole theory and I heard some of them already criticizing it,” the male hums, turning another page, eyes scanning the words written on a yellowed from time piece of paper. This seems the last comment of his, as he falls silent, reaching for the cup of coffee you’ve made him - in the process of which you were short-sighted to voice your concern.

When a minute passes and you do not answer anyhow to any of the valuable advice he’s just given you, Alhaitham lowers his book and stares at you. You keep drumming your fingers on your knee, eyes boring into him and almost unblinking, and it’s not hard for such an observant man to notice a barely-veiled displeasure in your tired eyes and a scowl.

"You know you could've just said you are worried about tomorrow too, and leave it at that?"

Alhaitham blinks, hand frozen in the middle of lowering the mug back on the table. He is holding your gaze and you can practically see the thoughts running through his mind, he is clearly contemplating how to answer your bold statement.

“Why would I be worried?” He finally answers with a question on your own, putting the mug on the flat surface. “It’s just a thesis defense, and if you get rid of your nervousness you’ll see that you already have the Dastur title in your pocket. Tomorrow is just a formality for you.”

“So you are not coming to watch me tomorrow?” Your scowl and frown deepens, fingers stopping abusing your knee and curling in a fist instead. Your husband sighs, marking the page with a bookmark you’ve made for him and closing the volume he’s been on for the past week. Then his captivating eyes are back on you.

“Scribe isn’t required to attend. Besides-”

“Yeah, yeah, you know my work enough to not hear anything new in my presentation,” you interrupt him and he can clearly hear rising anger in your voice that wasn’t there before. It actually manages to shut him up. “As my husband, as my support, are you going to come?”

The man feels a twinge of guilt in his heart. He always prided himself of his intelligence and attentiveness, yet just now he failed to assume what exactly you expected of his presence. Of course he’d want to give you a peace of mind by being there, but it seems he is too used to uttering the same phrase every single time someone asks him to come, that it was out faster than he had a moment to think it over properly.

He sees a bit too late how your face drops when he doesn’t give you an answer immediately - it looks like his pause appeared to be hesitance to you. He slightly panics when you lower your gaze and move to uncross your legs to stand up, having an almost iron grip on the back of the chair.

“Wait- Dear, I will come,” at that your eyes flicker at him, with doubt on display in your beautiful orbs. “I promise, I’ll be there.”

“I thought you didn’t like to be around idiots the whole day,” you huff, crossing your arms, reminding him of how unflattering his words towards some of his colleagues were. You do not mean to act childish, but tomorrow is really important to you, and obviously you’d want to have your husband be there to share it with you.

Alhaitham puts the book aside and stands up as well, rounding the table and coming closer to you. His fingers deftly touch your elbow, and you will yourself not to jerk it, some annoyance still bubbling in your system.

“That is correct. However, you are not one of them,” he murmurs, caressing your arm. You huff again, but this time your posture is more relaxed. “Besides, all you need is to be confident, and if my presence can assure you that, then I’ll be more than happy to be there for you.”

You give him a long stare. Your drilling eyes to his bewitching ones, searching for the truth in the greenish depths, while he stands still, waiting patiently, expecting your verdict silently. It’s as your frown softens, he knows you’ve found what you’ve been looking for in this kind of staring contest.

“Oh Archons, Alhaitham…” You shake your head with a small smile and the man feels relief washing over him. You are no longer mad at him. At least, it seems so. That is definitely good. “We’ve been married for years and it still surprises me how you can be a jerk - affectionately - one moment, and a completely sweet guy another.”

“Maybe just as quick you are switching from fuming to forgiving,” his palms are warm as they slide up your arms, featherly resting on your shoulders. Your smile widens a little and you meet him in the middle when he leans to press his forehead to yours.

“Yeah, yeah… But to your credit you were quick to fix your attitude, and as long as it’s sincere, I am grateful.”

“It is sincere,” he says with emphasis. “You know I am not the one to change my mind lightly.

Or rather realizing when an apology is due.

You hum, content with his answer. Yet, a mischievous glint finds its place in your eyes.

“Even though you are forgiven, I am still complaining to Kaveh about the mean and heartless husband of mine.”

“Of course you are,” he rolls his eyes, but you know it’s playful. He knows it too, and the shift in the mood is apparent, and he is thankful for its course to the positive destination. “I guess it’s deserved.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t be glaring at you murderously. Much.”

Alhaitham only sighs at your giggles. He could care less of what the blond architect would say about him, so he’ll survive some annoyed buzzing from the senior, and if the little exchange which is about to occur makes you happy - he doesn’t mind. Plus it will be good for you to take your mind off of tomorrow.

“I’ll trust you on that,” he finally says, slowly leaning back. You smile, patting the back of his hand still resting on your shoulder in reassurance. With a promise to collect you from your ‘girlish talk’ (you swat his shoulder at that) in a couple of hours, your husband helps you to make a new pot of tea. It’s quite ironic that this one is gonna be emptied while he’s the main focus of the conversation.

Minutes later, when you leave the kitchen with a tray, Alhaitham can faintly hear the knocks on the other end of the house, and the door opening not a minute later, the voice of the man you two have been housing for months coming clear and concerned. Kaveh remained your friend even when he and Alhaitham got in a horrible fight over their beliefs and you were partially the reason why the Haravatat graduate was convinced to let the blonde stay. Though loud, flamboyant and snarky, there is some perks of having him around - even if the architect always complains how he didn’t sign up to be a marriage counselor, he’s never let you or your husband be in a conflict for long (fortunately it happened really rarely), being your shoulder to tear up on or begrudgingly becoming an ear to be talked of by the other man and the foot that would kick Alhaitham into action or the hand that would gently nudge you in the right direction.

Or, just like tonight, simply be ‘your girl’ to chat with.

Alhaitham, as promised, lets you be for a couple of hours, meanwhile busying himself with his book. To outsiders this scene may appear weird and paint the Scribe in an awful light as a husband - but it is just like that with this man. And the strange dynamic the three of you have while staying under one roof: a wife, a husband and their… loquacious canary-like-therapist.

Only when it’s close to the time you usually go to sleep, does he also end up before the door of Kaveh’s temporary room, and firmly knocks three times.

“What?” Unsurprisingly it's the blonde’s voice, and by the tone of it he is pissed. The ash-haired male chooses to ignore him.

“Darling, let’s go to bed,” he calls for you softly. 

Alhaitham hears shuffling and muffled curses the architect surely prepared for him and some short, but incomprehensible conversation happening between you two. Not a moment later though, the door opens revealing your face, and your husband can’t help but feel extra weight lifted off his shoulders. No line reappeared between your eyebrows, no pout and no distress is written on your face. Quite the contrary, when your eyes meet, you give him the same warm smile you graced him with back in the kitchen.

“Sure, let’s go. It’s quite late already and we need to wake up early tomorrow,” you hum, exiting the room. Through the gap Alhaitham spots Kaveh sitting over some blueprints with two mugs on the table and a chair placed on the opposite side of the fine piece of furniture. When the architect lifts his eyes to glare at him, the Scribe slams the door closed. To your bedroom you returned with arms linked.

The silence of your shared space is comforting and is only disturbed by your light steps and rustle of changed clothes. The Scribe glances at you every two minutes, still a tiny bit concerned about that animatic exchange you had back in the kitchen.

“You know I will come, right?” The man suddenly asks you, as you’re fluffing the pillows. Your eyes slightly widen for a brief moment, so quickly that he almost misses it, but then they soften again as you chuckle.

“Yes, I know, dear. Sorry I reacted the way I did initially. It seems I really was pent up after all.”

“I could tell. You looked like you could bite my head o- ow!” He gasps when you throw your pillow into his face, which he catches at the last second.

“Oh, shut it, or I might get mad again,” but there is no anger in your eyes, only hardly veiled mischief. He drops your weapon of choice back onto bed and raises his hands in defense.

“Okay, okay, point taken. Any way I can make it up to you?”

At that your eyes strangely glint, and the scholar can’t place his finger on what exactly feels off about it. But it does.

“Actually you can. I’d like you to wake me up when you do, and let me use the shower first.”

And that’s it? Well, odd, but not disturbingly odd. Surely you wouldn’t go as far as to play some pranks on him by mixing something in his shampoo - you are way too intelligent for that. Also not one for revenge. 

“Of course. I will wake you when I do so myself, and let you use the bathroom first.”

Even if the mornings are not Alhaitham’s forte, he still opens his eyes disgustingly early, so sleeping for a bit more while you are at your morning routine sounds nice. Not as nice as doing it with you in his arms, but still quite nice.

“Thank you, dear. Now, if you are going to read-”

“Not tonight. You need sleep,” to that you smile warmly, crawling under the blankets, which he is quick to follow. You do not deny his embrace, and willingly scoot closer, extending an arm to put around his waist, as he does the same. Nor you turn away from a kiss he places on your forehead, pecking his chin in response.

“Good night, Alhaitham.”

“Good night, Y/n.”

True to his word, your husband pulls you out of the dreamland just moments later after exiting it himself. Cerulean eyes drink in your sleepy face contorting in displeasure, arms reaching over your head, and body arching in a morning stretch. He can’t help himself, leaning close and pressing a kiss just above the hem of your chemise, relishing the feeling of your heart thumping against his lips. You yawn, reaching a hand into his hair, but your breath hitches, when his mouth is suddenly on your throat, peppering it with soft pecks.

“Mmm… If you are trying to make up for yesterday you are a bit late,” your groggy voice is so adorable to the man. With you he tends to forget how to rationalize things. Yesterday was one of the times when his ‘Alhaitham for anyone else but his wife’ slipped into his interaction with you, the behavior he’s been trying for years to suppress when it comes to you. Now he knows he should’ve acted differently, and regrets his unique way of trying to give you reassurance. If only he-

“Are you overthinking again?” 

Your question makes him emerge back to reality. Eyes meet, and his heart skips a beat when you smile at him. Archons, you are beautiful.

“You know I am joking? Yesterday was yesterday, and you are already making it up to me, right?”

Words can’t describe how much he loves you, and at this moment he feels like he’ll never be able to express it fully.

“Right. Shower is all yours. Also,” he leans in again, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “good morning.”

Your smile gets wider and you wrap your arms around his frame to kiss his cheek.

“Morning, Haitham.”

With you gone to the shower, the man buries himself in your pillow, inhaling the lingering scent. Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t deserve you. Your husband is intelligent enough to evaluate his own deeds and behavior, so he knows he is far from perfect to be someone’s partner. Yet, here you are, loving and accepting all his flaws - not without some complaint, but you are trying.

He might come off as arrogant to some people, but in arguments with you, he can tell when it’s his fault and not blame you for giving him a cold shoulder and requesting some space. He might look like he doesn’t care, but he cares for you, for your well-being, for your likes and dislikes, for your opinion, carefully storing all this valuable information in his brain, to show how much you mean to him. He is aware he has a long road ahead of him to get rid of all of his annoying conversing habits, but he is willing to keep trying for you. He seems to not show gratitude to anyone, but he is so grateful that you remain by his side, going as far as telling him you are proud to be his wife.

He wants you to know that it’s mutual.

That being said, Alhaitham is a smart man, but when he himself exits the bathroom after his shower time, his brain is reduced to just one thought.

You are absolutely gorgeous.

His gaze is chained to your pretty fingers, rolling the long, dark green stocking up your left leg. His throat bobs, when the elastic hem of it snaps against your skin, squeezing the flesh of your thigh a little. Then you take the second one, elegantly lifting the other leg and repeating the taunting process, but this time he is here to watch it from the beginning to the very end.

You happily hum, observing your work, and, satisfied, get on your feet, adjusting the band of your panties a little. Archons, you are wearing a matching set of the richest green shade. Lace leaves little to imagination, as his eyes flicker up to your chest, noting the pretty, natural swell of it and the outline of your nipples, and then down, as you turn around and bend to grab the shirt from the bed, demonstrating to him your ass and thighs.

His hand almost reaches out to touch you, to get a hold of the round globe, to sink his lithe fingers in your flesh. After all, your husband is not above earthly pleasures.

But your voice snaps him out of it.

"My love, if you keep standing like this in the middle of the room with just a towel on and no intention to dress, you might be late for breakfast," you chide him not even turning around and throw on the shirt, hiding the bra and some of the lower half, yet still leaving a bit of an appetizing view for an eye.

Alhaitham wills himself to tear the almost burning gaze away from you and redirect it to his own clothes, already prepared and neatly hanging on a chair. You mischievously smile as he takes a step to move past your figure. He's kept alarmingly silent and you are dying to know what reaction he has for your little plan. 

The man has just a second to react when you abruptly turn around and stumble into him. Big palms instantly grab your hips to steady you against his chest, and the heart quickens at the feeling of soft lace under his fingertips, peeking from beneath the hem of the shirt he accidentally crumpled in the process. Your hands on his chest are so warm, put out just in time to catch yourself, and Alhaitham finds himself thinking of how would've it felt if your chests collided - maybe the thin material of the only layer of clothes you have on paired with some flimsy bra would not make any difference from direct skin to skin contact?

"Ah, sorry, 'haithy," you sheepishly smile up at him, eyes soft and staring innocently, "Are you alright? I haven't heard you speak ever since you left for the shower…"

Archons, please, don't let his voice betray him.

"I'm," he quickly clears his throat, "alright. Was just about to start dressing."

You hum, pushing onto his pectorals to move away and continue with your own - though slightly changed - routine, but strong fingers flex, keeping you in place by the sheer hold on your hips. You look at him inquiringly, ignoring how the very tips of his thumbs just barely slip under the thin material of your panties to caress your hip bones. It's almost an absentminded action.

"What's with this lingerie?" He finally drops the question swirling on his tongue ever since he first laid his eyes on the tantalizing sight. It's hard to hold back a smirk - you admit you were a bit doubtful if it'd actually grab your husband's attention. Who knew the stoic man was into it…

"Oh, this?" Nonchalantly you tug on the collar of your shirt and Alhaitham sharply inhales upon catching a glimpse of your barely covered breast again. "Do not worry, habibi, it is not to seduce you," he is not that sure about it. 

Taking his hands in yours, you pry them off of your body and put them back to his sides, gracing his waist just above the towel with your touch. He shivers.

"I know it's different from what I usually wear, especially to work," you admit, turning around again, to grab the robes of the Akademyia's scholar. "But I really-really loved this one I purchased a couple of weeks ago on that outing with the girls. I feel so beautiful in it," fuck, you are. "And today is a special day. Want to have some confidence, you know?"

And as the rest of your body disappears under the long article of clothing, Alhaitham is finally aware of what this whole thing is about.

It's going to be an agonizingly endless day, where the only thing he can do is watch.

[monicahar]

reminiscence.

fem! reader, scara and nahida would act like siblings change my mind, includes sumeru archon quest spoilers!

“would you mind telling me more about [name]?”

scaramouche had to make sure he was hearing things correctly.

“excuse me?”

“[name]. i want to know more about her.”

the tiny god of wisdom gently rocks back and forth on her makeshift swing created by her control over dendro—watching over the city of sumeru with soft eyes whilst the former harbinger stares daggers onto the back of her head.

a sigh escapes the man's lips from behind her, a telltale sign of his incoming exasperation, “you read my mind without my permission again? i remember clearly telling you to cut it out, didn't i?” his annoyance doesn't come unnoticed by the observant child.

“it was quite improper of me to do so, but i'm the god of wisdom. i actively seek out knowledge, and such—i couldn't resist the temptation of peering onto a mind as eccentric as yours.” her tone remains understanding of his irritation, yet all the more wise in explaining her unwarranted prying.

the dark-haired male behind her hums, leaning back onto the tree as he shuts his eyes closed, seemingly given up on voicing his displeasure towards the archon.

“tell me what you know so i'll know where to start.”

his immediate compliance makes the curious child turn her head his way, staring at him with wide eyes.

“you...” nahida trails off as she smiles in relief, quickly reminding herself to not comment on his chosen act of opening up as he might get impatient and dismiss the subject altogether.

the distant chatter of her people down at the city successfully averts her attention from him, her eyes now gazing down at a certain blonde traveller stopping by to buy some supplies for their next adventure.

“you were dreaming of her during your slumber. she's...the fourth betrayal you encountered, correct?” nahida knows that you were anything but a betrayal, but she has to bend her words to his whims for now as to avoid a temper tantrum.

scaramouche hums in response.

“out of all the companions you've trusted, you seemed to cling onto your memories of her the most. why is that?”

“if you've read my mind, then i'm sure you already know why.”

“you're not gonna deny it?” the lesser lord cranes her neck to look at him over her shoulder, brows raised questioningly at his statement. “that you were in love, romantically?” she had carefully formed the question to give him the freedom of denying it just in case he wasn't ready to face his past just yet, but this situation was clearly something she didn't expect.

the male remains resting against the tree behind him, uncaring of the child's rather surprised gaze as his eyes stay shut. “if there's one thing you taught me while being under your care, it has to be acceptance.” he feels his anemo vision thrum to life by his chest, but he pays no mind to it as he continues, “i have nothing to lose now, so I might as well stop lying to myself to give my existence some type of meaning.”

nahida can't help the softening of her eyes towards the male, her smile widening by a fraction before she returns her gaze towards the city below her. if anything, that's probably his way of thanking her. it's a pretty roundabout way considering the better alternatives, but it managed to get the message across, didn't it?

she sighs in content, “that's essentially all I know about her. once again, would you mind telling me how she was like?”

you would probably pass out if you found out that the god of wisdom wishes to know more about you.

the ends of his lips twitch upwards for a moment as he thinks back on the memories he held dearly of you;

ranging from the embarrassing and funny moments you two shared like that one time you accidentally mistook him as a girl due to how graceful and fair his skin and face was, or up to the more intimate moments—like watching the narukami festival unfold along with its blooming fireworks from the mountain peaks of tatarasuna...

...and that one time he finally let your desires free and bared himself for you to touch—his first time.

he feels his cheeks burn at the thought, crossing his arms with a huff as if to breathe out the sinful thoughts.

now that he was free from the shackles of burdens and hatred, everything he experienced with you no longer seemed to be as bitter and disgusting to recall—unlike the times before where he'd have occasional dreams of you back in the fatui, the pettiness in his nerves as he calls it a nightmare that reminds him of how naïve and weak he was back then.

he returns to the matter at hand with a new sense of clarity—now what was he supposed to say again?

right. he was supposed to tell nahida about you.

he can't believe he's still blushing over you after all these centuries.

lifting his eyelids, the first thing he catches in his eyesight was nahida's knowing smile—directed right at him as she stays still on her swing.

why is she—?

oh.

making haste with his movements, he quickly lifts his hand to pull down his hat over his face, only to discover he wasn't wearing his hat at the moment—so pathetically enough, he opts to cover his face with a hand, shyly hiding his face from the grinning archon as he looks away with reddened cheeks and ears.

he got too carried away while reminiscing, it seems.

“i see...so you're still very much in love with her, hm?” nahida speaks up with a teasing tilt to her voice, relishing in this rare moment of the male's lowered guard, “not like i blame you. she was really pretty in your dreams, and probably even prettier in person.”

“shut up. do you want me to continue or not?”

with a quick apology amidst her fit of giggles, she nods, looking away once again from the eccentric wanderer to give him the privacy he deserves.

“sorry, sorry. now you may start.”

her curiousity is piqued. just how much of an impact did you make to cause the male to make such interesting reactions?

she's about to find out now, it seems.

might make part two idk

[dollfacefantasy]

hi! 🙂 i was wondering if i could request something with kento nanami spanking reader? i don’t have any specific plot in mind, it could just be straight up porn lol! with daddy kink included? thank you! 💗

mhm mhm cause nanami is just so brat tamer daddy like 😵‍💫😵‍💫

kento nanami x fem!reader

cw: nsfw (18+), spanking, daddy kink

Another smack echoes between the walls of your bedroom when your fiancé's hand collides with your ass again. A whine follows it and you squirm a little over his thighs. You'd only gotten a few lashes so far, but Kento knew what he was doing. He knew where to hit and how hard.

"Count," he states flatly, paying your whimpers no mind.

"T-three," you stutter out.

"Good."

Again, his response comes out simple and curt. Technically it was a word of praise, but it didn't feel like one. When Kento really praised you, there was no doubt of his intention. It came out as a coo with an affectionate touch to accompany it. Right now, the only touch you got was another spank.

"Ow," you whine. Your bottom lip puffs out in a signal of your displeasure.

His own mouth remains in a thin, flat line. His palm comes down on you again, leaving your skin stinging.

"No pouting, little brat," he chides, "You were being so bad earlier it must be what you wanted."

"I wasn't being bad," you huff.

That earns you an even harder slap.

"Well you are right now because I know you know better than to talk back," he says.

In truth, you had been trying to rile your boyfriend up earlier. The two of you had been out with some of his friends. You were bored since most of the conversation didn't involve you, so you tried playing with Kento a bit. Brushing your hand over his lap beneath the table, dragging your foot up his calf, giving him your best fuck-me eyes.

"Keep it up and you won't be sitting comfortably for the next few days," he'd said to you under his breath. But you didn't heed the warning.

It reached the boiling point when his friend Satoru noticed how tense he was and cracked a little joke about it. Less than ten minutes later, he excused the two of you and practically dragged you by your arm back to the apartment.

"I'm sorry, daddy," you whimper.

"I'm sure you are now that you're being punished," he says. His hand rains down on your backside in rapid succession, striking the center hard and fast.

Your eyes screw shut, and you kick your feet at the pain. More squeaks of discomfort fall from your lips. Your thighs shift against each other too as arousal blooms in your belly. He gives your hips a rough yank to secure you in the position he wants.

"If you keep thrashing like that, I'll have to move onto something more severe. Maybe you're wanting the belt," he says, letting the threat hang in the air.

Your head hangs forward, and you make a noise that's a mix between whining and sighing.

"I'm actually really sorry, daddy. I'm sorry for back talking and being bad around your friends. I don't know what else you want me to say," you plead.

"All I want is for you to learn your lesson," he says, "How many times have I had to put you over my knee for the same reasons? You can say your sorry all you want, but you're staying like this until I feel I've gotten it through your head."

"That could be like forever," you complain.

Kento smirks a little at the remark, but he doesn't let you know it amused him. He continues to smack your ass, relishing the way you fight to keep still.

"I've learned," you mewl as your resistance comes out in little twitches. You were getting antsy now not only from your aching cheeks but also from the increasingly intense throbbing between your legs.

"That's what you said last time," he says.

"But I actually have this time," you defend, "I know I'm not supposed to be like that around your friends. I just wanted my daddy's attention."

"That's always what you want, baby, but what has daddy taught you? What's the rule?" he asks.

"I have to be patient," you whimper, "I have to wait till daddy gives me permission to touch."

"That's right," he says. He takes a break from spanking you to soothingly rub your burning skin. "I know you can be a good girl. You choose not to be. That is what I have to train out of you."

"I'm gonna be good after this. I promise," you assure.

"Are you sure? Because you know you won't get to cum for a month if you break a promise," he taunts while gently kneading your battered cheeks.

You bite your lip before revising your statement. "Ok maybe not promise, but I'll still try super hard."

"Alright, I'll accept that," he says, "Since you're so committed to being good now, only fifteen more, and I'll let you up."

"Fifteen?" you whine incredulously.

"Yes, fifteen. And I don't want to hear anything about it. I'm already being lenient with your half-promise. Don't make me change my mind," he says.

Your head hangs again and you huff, but you don't say anything. His hand spanks you first on your right cheek and then on your left. You then get a few towards the center for good measure. You count out each one like the good girl you're trying to convince him you are.

His eyes flit between your head and your backside. He can tell the pain is starting to build up for you by the way you're shifting. Your noises are getting higher pitched too. He can almost hear the tears starting to brim your waterline.

After another round of spanking, you finally whimper out the last number just as a few tears slip down your cheeks. His hand goes back to rubbing your skin a few times before he flips you over and cradles you to his chest.

"That's my girl. You took that so well," he murmurs and kisses your forehead.

"Thank you, daddy," you sniffle and look up at him with your tearful eyes.

He nods and brings his fingers up to swipe away your tears. His thumb glides down your jaw and then slips between your lips. He watches you gently suck on it for a moment before he slides it out and leans in to kiss you. When he pulls back, he looks down at you.

"I'm proud of you, sweetheart. Let's just see if you can remember your lesson this time, hm?" he says softly as he boosts you to your feet and squeezes your hips, "We'll get you cleaned up and then maybe, I'll try to use my hands to help you feel better. Only if you can keep being good."

[biggestsimp12]

Mukami brothers x motherly! Reader

{Ugh, I barely see any diabolik lovers fanfics anymore, where has this fandom gone 😭

Anyway, if I can't find any, I'll just write some for (myself) my fellow diabolik lover fans 🫠

(Literally had this in my drafts since Christmas 2023 😀)

Requests are always open!}

--––——

(this takes place after Karlheinz helped the Mukami brothers)

——––--

You occurred to be "trespassing" Karlheinzes property, where the Mukami brother were said to be living. If truth to be told, you didn't step a foot close to his premises, you just happened to be hard by at an unfitting time and place.

As the cool evening breeze caressed your skin, You stood before the vampire king, Karlheinz. He had summoned you there to answer for your transgressions, whatever they might be. His eyes, cold as ice, bore into you very soul as he surveyed you with disdain. According to his words, "you had committed some unforgivable offense against him, and you were about to pay the price."

Karlheinzes words echoed through your ears as he announced his judgment: "As punishment for your actions, I could have killed you where you stand. Instead, I have decided to give you a chance at redemption. I will make you my fourth wife." His voice was cold and harsh, like the wind howling through the mountains.

You cringed at the thought of being his wife, let alone his fourth wife. Before you could even begin to refuse, however, his eyes scanned over you, and something in them changed. "No," he muttered to himself, "you look far too flawed." It was then that he noticed the crease between your brows, the sign of your displeasure.

Instead, he decided, since no one was currently tending to the Mukami brothers, who were still quite young, he would make you their maid. It was a lesser role, but one that would still allow you to live another day instead of being murdered. "You will be the mother to the Mukami brothers," he announced, "until such time as they are capable of taking care of themselves. You're in no position to argue. Any complains and you'll be sucked dry. Did I make myself clear?"

You didn't particularly like the sound of this new arrangement, but you figured it was better than the alternative. So, you nodded numbly and turned to leave. As you walked away from the intimidating figure of Karlheinz, you couldn't help but wonder what sort of life you had just signed up for. Being the mother to four vampire children sounded like a daunting task, to say the least.

---–—

Ruki

He's reluctant at first, only interacting with you if necessary. He has mommy issues so it will take a while until he warms up to you. He's afraid you're going to hurt him and his brother, just like the people at the orphanage did :(

Once he got used to you and started tolerating your existence, he slowly looks up to you.

He likes to help you with house chores and loves when you read books to all of them.

Respects the fact that you treat and love all of them equally, and that you actually intervine in their life like a proper parent should do.

He still respects Karlheinz and wishes do fulfil his plan, despite your disagreement. In his eyes, he's still the one who gave them a second chance at life.

Will not speak to for a couple of days if bring up the scars on his back. He hates them and hates who done it to him. Though despite all this, he secretly enjoys the comfort you give him, despite not admitting it ever.

---——

Kou

---——

Oh boy. He's a cheeky little bastard that's for sure. Like Ruki, he doesn't trust you at all at first. He'll always ask for stuff in return whenever you ask him to do something. That's just the he was taught.

It will be hard to get him out of that mindset. Really now.

When he started to trust you a bit, also started singing for you, just so you reward him with your baked goods.

Of course he gets away with it every time as you are too soft hearted.

You'll encourage him whenever he sings, even suggesting some singing lessons if he wants to.

Maybe you weren't such a boogey person as he first thought you were.

Yuma

---–—

At first, just like Ruki, he's skeptical of you. He doesn't trust you one bit.

It will take a while to gain his trust.

Thinks you're one of those fancy people who didn't care about lesser class people like him.

You gain his respect (and a bit of trust) when you show that's not true at all.

Likes gardening with you and gets very happy when the stuff you guys planted together turn out delicious.

Isn't a very picky eater, unlike Kou

He's pretty chill once he's gotten used to you, but he still doesn't trust you that much sometimes.

Azusa

He's the most clingy out of all of them-

When Karlheinz first introduced you to them, he was the first that came to you, only for him to ask you to cause him pain.

You had to hide the whole cutlery in the kitchen from him as he kept cutting himself.

You always bandaged his wounds and gave them gentle kisses.

Wrong idea. (even though it meant good.)

Now he keeps cutting and bruising himself, just for you to keep giving him attention- (Azusa, no-)

You had to lecture him a lot to tell him that he can just come and ask for affection if he wants it and doesn't have to ask Yuma to cut him with the gardening scissors, (which was another thing you had to hide from him.)

It took a while but you somewhat, somehow, managed to make him stop cutting himself whenever he wanted hugs-

——–-

The end <3

[cambion-companion]

Dinner Date

Sorry I haven't written in a while! I have several anon asks requesting something small for a dinner date with Raphael, inspired no doubt by the lovely Mr. Wincott's contribution in the livestream!

With a little twist because I haven't explored what it would be like delivering the crown to the cambion.

"What could be more exquisite than watching the hero of Baldur's Gate walk to me, fresh in the moonlight." Raphael leaned forward in his seat, the cool night air and cricket song belaying the tension in his taught frame.

He smiled as you approached and sat at the wooden table, the warm brown eyes of his human guise sparkling in the candlelight. "You've proven to be quite the asset, my dear. A fortuitous investment, indeed."

"Raphael." You greeted, your stomach doing obnoxious flips as it always did in his presence. "I brought you a little souvenir, as I'm sure you already know."

"Indeed I am." Raphael purred, his eyes scanning you person with keen intent. "I had front row seats, as it were. Your victory was marvelous. You played your part well."

You grunted, not flattered by the way he treated it all like an elaborate theater production. You hefted the wrought iron crown out of your bag of holding and placed it, glittering, upon the table.

The weight of such an artifact drew both your gazes, and all that could be heard for several moments was a soft zephyr stirring the trees and the sound of frogs and crickets harmonizing to the summer night.

The candle sputtered in the breeze and you looked to Raphael only to find his eyes already locked on your face.

He spoke with an intensity you'd not yet become familiar with. "Well done." He swirled deep red wine in his crystal chalice. "I wish you'd reconsider becoming business partners."

"You say it like we'd be equals." You scoffed, knowing full well he'd love nothing more than to gain your soul for his collection. You shook your head and took a sip of your own drink. "I think not, Raphael. As much as I like you, I'm not that stupid."

"I'd be disappointed if you gave in easily." Raphael raised a hand and the crown vanished in a swirl of golden embers, their brief light reflected in your widened eyes. "I do so enjoy the chase, and you are such a lush prize."

You have the cambion a wry smile, a touch of fondness to the curl of your lips. "I'll admit, it would be disappointing if after this we never saw each other again."

Raphael nodded and beckoned a waiter, never removing his gaze from your face. He looked for all the world like the cat who got the cream. "What is the phrase you mortals are so fond of? Ah, yes." He gestured grandly as he spoke, illustrating his words with his hands. "I fully intend on having my cake, and I will eat it too."

Later that same night, Raphael had whisked you away back to his House of Hope. You'd expressed mild displeasure at being taken back to Avernus but he'd quelled your complaints with a look.

Raphael reclined in a grand chair, almost a throne in appearance, his leg crossed over the other. His human skin had been shed in favor of his larger, sharper devil form. He raised two fingers, snapped them, and conjured the crown of Karsus to float between where you stood and he sat.

"Now we are somewhere more appropriate, I require you to complete our contract."

You pursed your lips together, knowing the answer before you spoke the question. "How, exactly?"

Raphael paused for dramatic effect. When he spoke next it was a command, not a request. "Crown me."

The crown felt cold and heavy in your hands when you took it, the weight extending to your very soul as you approached where Raphael sat.

You slowly lifted it and placed the intricate metal piece gently onto his heady, being careful to accommodate for the thorny spiral of his horns. It slid perfectly atop his dark hair, you couldn't help but admire the way it looked. "As though it was made for you." You said aloud, not noticing the words come out of your mouth.

A large, clawed hand cupped the back of your neck, hellfire eyes burning into you. "As surely as your very soul was for me." Raphael purred and dragged you down for a searing kiss.

[bullet-prooflove]

4500 Follower Celebration Bingo - The Vet: Rip Wheeler x Reader

Tagging: @readmetosleep @kierawashere01 @Hangmanscoming @1-fuzzy-squirrels @nerdypinupcrystal

Prequel to upcoming September piece Broken - Travis Wheatley

Thrill of the Chase (NSFW) - Rip has always loved the thrill of the chase.

 If You Want Me, You Can Have Me - They say that Rip Wheeler doesn't have a heart.

Stay Tonight - Rip asks to stay the night.

Use Your Words (NSFW) - Rip teases you.

Clover - Rip comforts you.

Rip’s at the Foreman’s House when he hears the gunshots echo over the pasture in the darkness. He’s just uncorked that bottle of that red you like from the winery in town because it’s been over a year since you stole this old cowboy’s heart and he wants to do something special to mark the occasion.

“I’m on my way.” You had promised him only a few minutes earlier when you’d called him. “I just need to check in Artemis.”

Gina’s horse had injured it’s leg during a barrel racing exercise a week ago and you’d been treating her since. Her cottage is less than a mile down the lane from Rip’s residence so he knows it won’t take long for you to arrive.

The instant he hears the two gunshots, something twists in his chest because they’re close, too fucking close. Both his home and Gina’s are on the Dutton’s land so he knows no one would dare go hunting in these fields. He tucks his own gun into the waistband of his jeans before he snatches up the keys to the truck and hurtles out the door.

Gina’s driveway is unusually busy when he pulls up outside her residence. There’s a black SUV he doesn’t recognise parked alongside the stables and your pickup blocks his path, the engine still running, the driver’s door thrown open.

Already he can hear the sounds of scuffle coming from the stable, shadows flicker against the warm illumination as a man curses and wood creaks.

“Touch that fucking horse and I will fucking kill you.” He hears you spit as he swings into the stables, his own gun drawn.

The scene before him is far from the one he expected.

Teal Beck is sagged against the door of Artemis’s stall, cradling his right arm close to his chest as blood jets from his badly broken nose. Dislocated shoulder, Rip assumes as Artemis paces her stall, tossing her head and grinding her teeth.

You’re standing with a Glock clasped in both your hands, finger on the trigger, weapon trained on Beck. There isn’t a single waver in you, your feet are spread apart, shoulders aligned just like they taught you when you signed up for a career in the Army as a miliary veterinarian. You’d done three tours before you resigned your commission and returned to Montana to take over your daddy’s practice.

“He was coming in here to kill the horse.” You tell Rip with a tone that could freeze the rivers of hell.

Of course, you’d go this crazy over a fucking horse. You leave and breathe for the animals under your care, every charge takes a tiny piece of your heart and you’d protect them with your life.

“You need to check on Gina.” You tell him, inclining your head slightly as you keep your eyes Teal. “Where there’s one Beck brother…”

There’s usually another.

Malcolm Beck’s been making his displeasure about his ex-wife known ever since that rodeo journalist had published the article about her come back. They’d all thought she was down and out after being kicked to the curb by him but now she’s back on the circuit, winning for the Yellowstone. She’s been spotted in the company of the rodeo king himself, Travis Wheatley.

It must have pushed every single one of that SOB’s buttons to see she was succeeding without him.

“Go.” You say again, this time more urgently. “I can take care of Teal, but Gina needs help.”

Rip’s already in motion, rushing from the stable as you keep the gun fixed on younger Beck brother.

“You better fucking hope he hasn’t laid a hand on her.” You say to Teal, your finger tightening on the trigger. “Otherwise you won’t live to see another sunrise.”

Teal smiles at you through bloody teeth.

“If that girl ain’t dead yet, she’s gonna wish she was by the time my brother’s finished with her.”

Love Rip? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[throughthetwistedmirror]

Marrying for Love ~ *Malleus Draconia*

Summary: As Crown Prince of Briar Valley, Malleus is expected to become King one day. However, he still needs to find a partner to rule by his side. And that's where you come in...

Pairing: Malleus Draconia X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffy Drabble

Word Count: 731

Warning: N/A

Masterlist

Taglist: @savanaclaw1996 @goseew

A/N: An early birthday present for him because we share the same birthday.

You have met a lot of princes in your life, but none were quite like Prince Malleus Draconia of Briar Valley.

He was a rare kind of mage and beauty and an even rarer kind of gentleman. He cared deeply for his people, his friends, and his family. He didn't really have enemies wherever he went. His magic was incredibly powerful and he wielded it well. He was soft-spoken, intelligent, humorous, and compassionate. Malleus was born to be a Prince and strived to prove he was worthy of being King of Briar Valley every single day.

There was just one obstacle in his way: marriage.

According to the customs of this ancient kingdom, he couldn’t ascend the throne until he was married. It was the chink in his relatively perfect armor. Even though he was considered the perfect man throughout the realms, Malleus was hopeless when it came to finding a suitable partner, at least in Lilia's eyes. Sebek was still under the impression it was the other party who had the problem, not Lord Malleus. 

Sure, Malleus could talk to people, but he couldn’t flirt and couldn’t understand flirting to save his life. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t seem to understand the subtleties of romance, much to Lilia's displeasure. He thought he taught him better.

Really, it was no surprise his parents, with the help of Lilia, arranged a match for him.

And that’s where you come in.

Oh sure, you know how to flirt and be coy and romantic with others. But after spending one evening with Malleus, you knew it wasn’t going to work with him. And you’re nothing if not adaptable.

From the first moment you met him, you knew he craved an honest relationship, where you didn't play games and you were very clear with your intentions from the start. You took it upon yourself to just get to know him, all of him, and not just the parts he wanted you to see. It was a start. And he found it was something easy he could do. While you learned more about him and what made him who he is, he learned about you. And what surprised him the most was the fact that he genuinely liked you. And that you genuinely liked him too.

Time was ticking down and you found that this idea of an arranged marriage didn’t seem so terrible. However, you were still worried. Slowly, Malleus was learning how to flirt and be romantic. You were afraid he wouldn’t need you anymore, he wouldn’t care about you anymore as much as he did when you first met. You liked that he needed you. He made you feel wanted and loved. But what if he found someone better?

You kept your worries to yourself. Being the Crown Prince of Briar Valley, Malleus had enough to worry about. You didn’t want to complicate your relationship with him in any way. Nevertheless, in the privacy of your room, you wished that Malleus would be yours just like you were his.

So you can imagine your surprise when he invited you on a stroll through the royal gardens one day. Sure, the two of you often went walking in these gardens, but it usually wasn’t until after all of his royal duties were complete. It was the middle of the day when he sent for you, not late evening after dinner like normal. Though you were confused and more than a little anxious, you did not want to keep him waiting. Quickly, you found him near the entrance to the gardens and the two of you began to walk together, arm in arm.

Malleus eventually stopped in a small pavilion surrounded by your favorite flowers. He sat you down on one of the benches and began a long-winded speech, which wasn't a common occurrence for him. He went on and on about how even though your relationship started as an arranged marriage, he felt something more for you. He thought of you as less of a companion and more of a lover he wanted to treasure forever. He explained that to him, you were the perfect partner to spend the rest of his life with. However, he didn’t feel like he was actually engaged yet.

So he asked you a question:

“Will you marry me?”

And of course, you said, “Yes.”

[muiitoloko]

Lessons in Love

Summary: In the heart of a strict father, love finds a way to soften the edges, as Turpin learns that sometimes, giving in is the greatest strength.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: none.

Author's Notes: Since you all kept asking for more Turpin, I did some digging through my drafts and found this little gem—a lost scene from my "Love?" series. So, I figured, why not share it with you all? Enjoy! 😄

Also read on Ao3

Turpin sat back in the plush chair of the opulent clothing store, his patience wearing thin as he waited for you and the twins to emerge from the dressing room. His hooked nose twitched with irritation, his baritone voice barely concealing his growing displeasure as he muttered under his breath, "How much longer must I endure this nonsense?" He hated being kept waiting, especially in a setting that offered little in the way of entertainment or distraction. His mind wandered to William, who was dutifully attending school, and he couldn’t help but think that the boy was likely better occupied than he was at this moment.

When you had suggested taking the girls to buy new dresses, Turpin had insisted on accompanying you. He couldn't fathom allowing his daughters out of his sight, not even for something as trivial as shopping. He prided himself on being a vigilant father, though his version of vigilance often bordered on suffocating control. As the minutes dragged on, his irritation grew. The thought of you allowing the girls to make their own choices without his oversight grated on him. He trusted his own judgment far more than yours when it came to matters of appearance and propriety.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the twins emerged from the dressing room, their faces glowing with excitement as they twirled to show off their new dresses. Belladonna, ever the bolder of the two, was clad in a bright yellow dress, her dark curls bouncing as she spun around. Sophia, her quieter sister, wore a deep purple gown that complemented her more reserved demeanor. The two girls, identical in every way save for the colors they had chosen, beamed up at their father, eager for his approval.

Turpin's expression darkened as he took in their attire. His eyes narrowed in disapproval, and his hooked nose twitched with disdain. "What on earth are you two wearing?" he demanded, his baritone voice cutting through the girls' excitement like a knife. He rose from his seat, towering over his daughters as he scrutinized their dresses with a critical eye.

Belladonna’s smile faltered, her confidence wavering under her father’s harsh gaze. "Father, we chose these ourselves. Don’t you think they look lovely?" she ventured, her voice trembling slightly as she sought his approval.

Turpin’s gaze moved from Belladonna’s yellow dress to Sophia’s purple gown, his disapproval growing with each passing second. "Lovely? These colors are garish, utterly inappropriate for young ladies of your station," he snapped, his voice dripping with contempt. "Yellow is a color for commoners, not for my daughter. And purple—" he paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Sophia, "—is far too bold for a girl of your temperament. It makes you look like you’re trying to draw attention to yourself, which is unseemly."

Sophia shrank back slightly, her eyes filling with tears as she looked down at her dress. Belladonna, always more defiant, opened her mouth to argue, but a single glare from Turpin silenced her. He turned his attention to you, his expression cold and accusing. "How could you allow them to choose such colors? Have you no sense of propriety?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing.

You bristled at his tone, but years of living under Turpin's rule had taught you to choose your battles carefully. "Richard," you began cautiously, trying to keep your voice calm, "the girls wanted to choose their own dresses. They’re growing up, and I thought it might be good for them to have a say in what they wear."

"Growing up does not mean they can flout the rules of decency and proper conduct," Turpin snapped, his anger barely contained. "They are my daughters, and they will dress as befits their station. I will not have them parading around like… like common whores!" His voice rose with his fury, the harsh words causing both girls to flinch.

"Father, we didn’t mean to—" Sophia began, but Turpin cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand.

"Silence!" he barked, his eyes blazing with anger. "You will both return to the dressing room immediately and change into something appropriate. Something befitting young ladies of noble birth. And you," he turned to you, his voice dripping with icy disdain, "will ensure that they make better choices this time."

Sophia and Belladonna hurried back to the dressing room, their heads bowed in shame. You watched them go, your heart aching for your daughters, but you knew better than to challenge Turpin in his current state. His temper was a fearsome thing, and you had no desire to provoke it further.

Turpin’s gaze followed the girls as they disappeared into the dressing room, his expression softening slightly once they were out of sight. He turned back to you, his tone slightly less harsh but still firm. "I will not tolerate such defiance in my own household," he said quietly, his eyes boring into yours. "They must learn that their choices have consequences. And you, my dear, must learn to guide them properly, or else I will have to take matters into my own hands."

You nodded quietly, understanding that any argument would only make things worse. Turpin was a man who prized control above all else, and any challenge to that control was met with swift and harsh consequences. With that in mind, you headed to the dressing room to assist the girls.

After what felt like an eternity, the twins emerged from the dressing room once more, this time dressed in more subdued colors—Belladonna in a soft blue dress and Sophia in a pale pink gown. Both girls looked subdued, their earlier excitement now replaced with a quiet resignation.

Turpin surveyed them with a critical eye, his expression finally softening as he gave a curt nod of approval. "Much better," he said, his tone still firm but no longer angry. "Now you look like proper young ladies."

He waved the girls off with a stern gesture, signaling for them to return to the dressing room and change. The twins, their heads bowed in disappointment, obediently made their way back, the excitement of their shopping trip thoroughly dampened by their father's harsh rebuke. As they disappeared behind the heavy velvet curtain, you couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of guilt and sorrow for your daughters. They were still children, after all, and deserved some joy in their lives, even if it came in the form of brightly colored dresses.

Turpin, meanwhile, approached the payment counter with his usual commanding presence, leaning heavily on his cane as he did so. He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a small bag of coins, ready to settle the bill for the more "appropriate" dresses he had approved. The shopkeeper, sensing the former judge’s impatience, quickly calculated the total and awaited Turpin’s payment, his hands slightly trembling under the weight of the former judge's piercing gaze.

You, unable to bear the sight of your daughters’ crushed spirits, slowly approached your husband. As you reached his side, you gently placed a hand on his arm, your touch soft and imploring. Turpin, in the middle of counting out the coins, paused momentarily at your unexpected closeness. He turned slightly to face you, his stern expression softening just a fraction as he met your gaze.

"Richard," you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you leaned in closer, your breath warm against his ear. "Please, let them keep the dresses they chose. They are still children, and they deserve to have something that brings them joy, something that makes them happy."

Turpin’s expression flickered with irritation, a frown creasing his brow as he listened to your plea. His hooked nose twitched slightly, a telltale sign of his displeasure. "Those dresses are not suitable," he muttered, his baritone voice gruff and low, meant only for you to hear. "They are unbecoming for girls of their station. I will not have them traipsing around like commoners."

You tightened your grip on his arm, your fingers gently squeezing as you pressed on, undeterred by his initial resistance. "Richard, please," you whispered again, this time letting your fingers drift to his chest, your touch light and persuasive. "It would mean so much to them. They only want a little bit of happiness, something to call their own. Surely, it wouldn't hurt to indulge them just this once?"

Turpin’s stern gaze softened further as he felt the warmth of your touch, the gentle pressure of your fingers against his chest stirring something deep within him. He tried to maintain his resolve, to keep his demeanor firm and unyielding, but it was a losing battle. You had always had a way of softening his rough edges, of coaxing him into doing things he would otherwise never consider. It was maddening to him, how easily you could sway his will with just a few whispered words and a gentle touch.

He let out a slow, frustrated breath, his eyes closing briefly as he leaned in closer to you, his face just inches from yours. The feel of your breath against his skin sent a shiver down his spine, and despite himself, he found his resolve crumbling. "You are insufferable," he murmured, his tone a mix of exasperation and reluctant affection. "Always pushing, always insisting. You know I cannot deny you anything, even when I should."

You smiled softly, sensing his surrender, and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, Richard," you whispered, your lips brushing against his skin, leaving a warmth in their wake. "I knew you would understand."

Turpin opened his eyes, his gaze flickering with a mixture of irritation and adoration as he looked at you. "You try my patience, woman," he grumbled, though there was no real anger in his voice, only a grudging acceptance. He turned back to the shopkeeper, who had been studiously pretending not to eavesdrop, and gave a curt nod. "Pack up those other dresses as well," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument. "The ones my daughters originally chose. They will have them, but only for special occasions. Understood?"

The shopkeeper, relieved to avoid Turpin’s wrath, nodded eagerly and quickly set about gathering the garments. As Turpin finished paying, he cast one last glance at you, his expression a mix of resignation and something deeper, something softer that he rarely allowed himself to show.

"You spoil them too much," he muttered as he handed over the coins, though the edge in his voice had dulled, replaced by a tired kind of affection. "But if it makes you happy, then so be it."

You smiled warmly at him, your heart swelling with love for the man who, despite his harsh exterior, always found a way to bend to your wishes when it truly mattered. "It makes them happy too, Richard," you replied gently, your hand still resting on his arm. "And that is worth more than anything."

Turpin grunted in response, clearly not entirely pleased but unwilling to argue further. He turned his attention back to the task at hand, ensuring the shopkeeper handled the dresses with care, while you watched him with a quiet sense of satisfaction. He might have been a stern and often cruel man, but beneath it all, you knew there was a heart that, when pushed just right, could be as tender as it was fierce.

And as you both waited for the girls to return, their spirits undoubtedly lifted by your success in securing their beloved dresses, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for the life you had carved out with this complex, difficult man. Turpin might have been many things, but he was also yours, and for that, you were thankful.

As the door of the clothing store closed behind you, the cool evening air greeted your small party, a welcome contrast to the warm confines of the shop. Turpin, his stern expression back in place, took the lead as you walked down the cobblestone street. His cane tapped rhythmically against the ground with each step, a steady reminder of his presence. Sophia, ever the dutiful daughter, immediately moved to her father's side, slipping her small hand into his without a word. Her pale green gown, now hidden beneath her cloak, still peeked out occasionally as she walked with delicate, precise steps, mimicking her father’s measured pace.

Belladonna, on the other hand, lingered behind with you, her mood noticeably darker. She refused to even glance in Turpin’s direction, her lips pressed into a firm, stubborn line as she clutched your hand tightly. The vibrant blue dress she had reluctantly agreed to wear seemed to weigh on her, and she walked with a sulky defiance that was impossible to miss.

You carried the bags containing the girls' new dresses in your free hand, the weight of them hardly registering against the heavier burden of the tension that still hung in the air. As you walked, you couldn’t help but notice Belladonna’s continued silence, a rare occurrence for your usually outspoken daughter. Glancing down at her, you finally decided to break the silence.

“What’s the matter, my love?” you asked gently, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the store.”

Belladonna’s lips pursed even tighter, and for a moment, it seemed as though she wouldn’t answer. But then, with a stubborn tilt of her chin that reminded you so much of her father, she finally spoke, her voice filled with the kind of indignation that only a child can muster. “Father was mean and rude,” she declared, her voice trembling with emotion. “He doesn’t like our dresses, and he made us change. I don’t want to talk to him anymore. He’s awful.”

You sighed softly, understanding her hurt but knowing that this was a matter that needed to be addressed. Belladonna had always been strong-willed, a trait she had undoubtedly inherited from her father, but it was important to teach her the value of forgiveness and understanding. “Belladonna, your father isn’t mean or rude just for the sake of it,” you explained gently, choosing your words carefully. “He’s strict because he cares about you and your sister. He wants the best for both of you, even if it doesn’t always feel that way.”

Belladonna, however, was not so easily swayed. She snorted derisively, a sound so reminiscent of Turpin in one of his more irritable moods that it startled you. “No, he’s just mean,” she insisted, her voice rising slightly in her frustration. “He doesn’t care if we’re happy. He only cares about what he wants. I won’t talk to him anymore. And neither should Sophia!”

The mention of her sister’s name drew a glance from Sophia, who was still walking beside Turpin. She looked back at you and Belladonna, her eyes wide with concern, clearly torn between her loyalty to her sister and her desire to stay close to her father. Turpin, who had been silently leading the way, stopped in his tracks, sensing the tension between his daughters. He turned slightly, his sharp eyes catching Belladonna’s defiant expression as she stuck her tongue out at him, a small act of rebellion that seemed to echo louder in the stillness of the evening.

For a moment, Turpin’s face hardened, the familiar stern lines etching themselves deeper as he regarded his daughter with a look that could have frozen the warmest heart. But then, something softened in his gaze, a flicker of uncertainty, as if he was unsure how to proceed. He was a man accustomed to wielding authority, to commanding respect through fear and discipline. But here, standing in the middle of a quiet street with his family, he found himself facing a challenge of a different sort—one that required a gentleness he had long forgotten how to express.

“Belladonna,” he began, his voice low and measured, though there was a hint of strain beneath the calm exterior. “You may not understand it now, but everything I do is for you and your sister. I do not wish to be harsh, but there are expectations—standards—that must be upheld. You will thank me one day for teaching you these things, even if you cannot see it now.”

Belladonna remained silent, her gaze fixed stubbornly on the ground, refusing to meet her father’s eyes. The hurt and anger in her small frame were palpable, and Turpin, for all his attempts at maintaining control, felt a pang of something he rarely acknowledged—regret.

You watched the exchange with a heavy heart, knowing that this was a moment that could define Belladonna’s relationship with her father for years to come. Gently, you knelt beside your daughter, placing the bags on the ground and taking both of her hands in yours.

“Belladonna, your father isn’t perfect,” you said softly, your voice filled with a warmth that you hoped would reach her. “He makes mistakes, just like we all do. But he loves you, more than anything in this world. And I know it would break his heart if you stopped talking to him.”

For a moment, Belladonna hesitated, her small face a mixture of emotions. She glanced up at you, then at her father, who was watching her with a rare vulnerability in his eyes. Finally, she huffed in frustration, crossing her arms over her chest in a gesture so much like Turpin’s that it brought a small, bittersweet smile to your lips.

“He’s still mean,” she muttered, though the edge had softened in her voice. “But I suppose… I suppose I’ll talk to him again. But only if he promises not to be so bossy!”

Turpin, hearing this, raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching as he fought to suppress a smile. “Is that so, young lady?” he asked, his tone just a shade lighter than before. “Well, I cannot promise to stop being ‘bossy,’ as you say, but I will try to listen to you more. And perhaps,” he added, glancing at you with a resigned sigh, “I will not be so quick to dismiss your choices in the future.”

Belladonna studied her father for a long moment, as if weighing the sincerity of his words. Finally, she nodded, her small face softening as she uncrossed her arms. “Alright,” she said grudgingly, though there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “But you have to say sorry.”

Turpin stiffened slightly, the word “sorry” not one that often passed his lips. But as he looked at his daughter, her wide, expectant eyes fixed on him, he felt the weight of his pride shift under the far greater weight of his love for her.

“Very well,” he said at last, his voice steady, though there was a touch of warmth that had been absent before. “I apologize, Belladonna. I was too harsh, and I should not have dismissed your feelings so readily. I hope you can forgive me.”

Belladonna's face lit up with a triumphant smile as her earlier defiance melted away. She stepped forward boldly, pointing a small finger at her father, her expression suddenly serious. "Father," she began with a tone far too commanding for a girl her age, "since you were so rude to me and Sophia, I think you owe us something. I demand you buy us ice cream as a reward for putting up with your behavior!"

Turpin blinked in surprise, momentarily taken aback by his daughter's audacity. His hooked nose twitched as he processed her words, his stern demeanor faltering for just a moment. "Why, you demanding little scoundrel!" he exclaimed, his baritone voice rising in mock outrage. But even as the words left his mouth, the corners of his lips curled into an amused smile. He sighed deeply, shaking his head with a mixture of exasperation and fondness. "Very well, Belladonna. You and your sister shall have your ice cream."

Belladonna beamed with delight, her earlier scowl replaced by a look of pure joy. She grabbed Sophia's hand, and the two girls screamed happily at the prospect of ice cream, their faces alight with excitement. Without waiting for another word, they turned and bolted down the cobblestone street towards the ice cream shop they had passed earlier, their laughter echoing in the evening air.

"Don't run!" Turpin shouted after them, his voice filled with the gruff authority that came so naturally to him. But the twins paid him no heed, their small figures disappearing around the corner, giggles trailing behind them.

You couldn't help but laugh softly at the scene, the sound of your daughters' happiness lifting your spirits. You reached for your husband's arm, sliding your hand into the crook of his elbow, and began walking slowly in the direction of the ice cream shop, ignoring the curious glances from passersby. Turpin’s demeanor softened as you did so, and he leaned into your touch, his stern mask slipping just a little in your presence.

"Who does that girl take after to be so demanding and defiant?" Turpin grumbled, though there was no real anger in his voice, only a touch of bewildered affection.

You refrained from rolling your eyes, though the urge was strong. Instead, you replied with a teasing smile, "Who indeed, Richard? Perhaps she has inherited a certain someone’s determination and strong will. It must run in the family, after all."

Turpin huffed, not entirely missing the subtle jab in your words, but before he could retort, a sudden cough wracked his body, cutting off his reply. The sound was harsh and wet, echoing uncomfortably in the stillness of the evening.

Immediately, your amusement vanished, replaced by concern as you tightened your grip on his arm. "Richard, are you alright?" you asked, your voice soft but urgent as you turned to face him, your eyes scanning his features for any sign of distress.

Turpin waved a hand dismissively, trying to downplay the severity of the cough, but the strained look in his eyes betrayed him. "I’m fine," he muttered, his voice slightly hoarse. "Just a tickle in my throat, nothing more."

You weren’t convinced, but you knew better than to press the issue in public. Instead, you slowed your pace, guiding him towards a nearby bench where he could sit and catch his breath. "Let’s rest for a moment," you suggested gently, your hand still on his arm as you led him to the bench. "The girls can wait a bit longer for their ice cream."

Turpin, though clearly reluctant to show any sign of weakness, allowed himself to be led to the bench. He sat down heavily, leaning on his cane for support as he took a few deep breaths, his eyes closing briefly as he fought to regain his composure. You stood by his side, your hand resting on his shoulder, offering silent comfort as he recovered.

After a moment, Turpin opened his eyes, the tension in his posture easing slightly as he looked up at you. "You worry too much," he murmured, his tone softening as he reached up to cover your hand with his. "I’m not as fragile as you think, my love."

You smiled down at him, though the worry in your eyes remained. "Perhaps not," you conceded quietly, "but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop worrying about you. You’re too important to me, Richard. To all of us."

Turpin’s expression softened further at your words, and he squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a rare display of tenderness. "And you, my dear, are far too good to me," he murmured, his baritone voice tinged with affection.

For a brief moment, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the weight of the world lifting just a little as you took comfort in each other’s presence. The evening air was cool, but the warmth between you was enough to keep the chill at bay. Eventually, Turpin straightened, his usual stern demeanor slipping back into place as he prepared to rise.

"Come," he said, his voice regaining its usual strength. "We shouldn’t keep the girls waiting too long. They’ll be expecting their ice cream, and I’ve no doubt Belladonna will have more demands ready if we tarry."

You laughed softly, helping him to his feet as you continued your walk toward the ice cream shop. As you strolled arm in arm down the cobblestone street, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Life with Richard Turpin was never easy, but it was moments like these—when the walls came down, and the love you shared was laid bare—that made it all worthwhile.

[human-encounters-diary]

Day 8

Doubts regarding whether or not the Terran liked me where certainly and indisputably diminished at the beginning of the next cycle.

Quinn seemed to have predicted my intention of speaking to her as soon as possible, given that she sought me out shortly after the new cycle had begun. She was walking towards me in a rather strange manner, faster than normal walking, practically jumping with small flying phases in between taking the next step. I could not discern the purpose it was supposed to serve, but I was not given time to put too much thought into it.

She bared her teeth at me once again, although this time I did not recoil. One of her hands hit me languidly slightly above the juncture where my first pair of legs joined my upper body. I was uncertain what this gesture was supposed to convey. Was it an attack? Was she trying to notify me of an imminent danger approaching?

"I wanna show you something", she informed me. She waved her hand from my direction towards her body, which, if I inferred correctly out of the previous records, was supposed to signify me to follow her.

I trailed after her, letting her lead me to the emergency in question. As it turned out, there was no immediate emergency. The Terran came to a halt in front of one of the few windows built into the outer layer of the SIIR Noxos. She pointed to it as I joined her side, leaving a (as I aimed) respectful distance between the two of us. I followed her extended arm with my visual organs, ending up staring out of the window. 

I blinked. If there was an immediate threat outside the window in close proximity, I was not able to glimpse it. The human spoke up: "It‘s beautiful, isn‘t it?"

She had sunken to the floor, a rather alarming sight at first, but she seemed unharmed. 

I searched for an appropriate response, but in the end, I simply answered: "I suppose. Although my species does not linger in the beauty of transient things."

The human‘s face morphed into a grimace of displeasure. "Then what‘s the point in life?"

"My species believes that there is more to life than oneself, and that intelligent life is supposed to be dedicated to the exploration of science.", I eludicated.

"Hm. I guess y‘all aren‘t too different from some humans. Y‘know, we humans have the phrase 'Appreciate the little things'. I mean, the universe isn‘t exactly small, but…it‘s definitely nice to look at." "I suppose", I repeated.

I lowered myself onto the floor as well, as it seemed appropriate. I gazed upon the universe outside the window. I suppose there was something quite beautiful about it. 

Eventually, I broke the silence.

"May I ask a question?", I requested, careful not to be impolite. 

"Yeah, sure", she answered.

"I watched the video recording of your work in Sector 3, simply to control your work, and you…seemingly began to sing? While continuing to work? I am merely trying to understand the reasoning behind this. Does it serve a religious or cultural purpose?You were not bored by your task, were you?" My front pliers rattled quietly. Something about the thought of the human being bored made me…rather uneasy. Perhaps it was due to my mind imagining what the human might come up with to pass the time in case of boredom.

The Terran blew air out of her nostrils rather aggressively, but there were no other signs of irritation.

"Oh, no", she answered. "No, it‘s actually just because…well, my dad taught me everything he knows about handling machines, so when I used to help him out in the workshop in the afternoons, and we‘d be like…fixing a car engine or whatever, we always used to turn up the radio and sing along. It was kind of our thing. So nowadays, when I‘m working on something, I might start singing. Not out of boredom, just a habit."

"Your…dad.", I repeated, uncertain what that term was supposed to mean. 

She looked at me in a indiscernible manner. "Yeah, my father, my parent, whatever you wanna call it."

"I apologize. I was unfamiliar with that term.", I stated.

"Oh. Sure."

She opened her mouth once again to say: "Y‘know, um…I mainly just wanted to show you this and also thank you, y‘know, for…giving me something to work on."

"It was my pleasure. I admit I might have given you a rather simple task to begin with, but that was merely because, while the Vitrichl stated you were competent, he and I have…differentiating views on the word 'competent'."

She bared her teeth once again, although shortly, before raising to her full height and, for some inexplicable reason patting down her clothes as if to remove any dust, although her clothing was perfectly clean.

"Well, Cap wants to see me again today, so, I guess I‘ll see ya tomorrow."

"Indeed.", I retorted.

Without another word, she turned and waved one of her hands behind her as if to signal her departure.

[bitchiswild]

The Queen’s Love

Jang Wonyoung x F! Reader

Warnings: none all fluff

Word Count: 7.2k

A/n: This was the sweetest story I’ve written 🥺 it’s sickening 🥹

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

In the heart of the kingdom of Amorella, Jang Wonyoung's presence cast a chilling aura. Her rule was marked by an unwavering demand for obedience and an unforgiving stance toward mistakes. Her icy stare could freeze even the most seasoned courtiers, a stark warning of her expectations.

Workers toiled under the weight of her exacting standards, knowing all too well the consequences of a misstep. For Jang Wonyoung, even the smallest error warranted severe punishment. Locked doors and concealed chambers whispered tales of those who fell afoul of her wrath, their echoing screams a haunting reminder of her unforgiving nature.

Her courtiers and subjects dared not cross her path, fearing the repercussions of inviting her displeasure. The atmosphere within the kingdom grew tense and suffocating, a palpable air of fear and trepidation gripping every corner.

Despite the cruelty she exhibited, there were whispers in the shadows. Whispers of a ruler burdened by the weight of expectations, haunted by the echoes of her own past. Some spoke of fleeting moments when Wonyoung's facade wavered, glimpses of vulnerability that hinted at a soul conflicted by the demands of power and the desire for something more.

Yet, these whispers remained veiled in the darkness, overshadowed by the imposing figure she presented to the kingdom—a figure that inspired fear rather than empathy.

Before Jang Wonyoung ascended the throne, she was not always the chilling figure she became known as. Her upbringing within the confines of the royal palace was fraught with the controlling and oppressive hand of her father, King Hanseok.

As a child, Wonyoung yearned for her father's affection and approval, yet she was met with only harsh criticism and unattainable expectations. King Hanseok's authoritarian rule extended beyond the kingdom's borders and into their familial domain, casting a shadow of fear and submission over his household.

He groomed Wonyoung to inherit his throne, instilling in her the belief that rulership meant wielding power without mercy. Her father's relentless demands and punishments for even the slightest imperfection sculpted her perception of authority and control.

Each reprimand, each harsh word, and each cruel punishment etched deeper into her psyche, shaping her into a reflection of her father's unyielding rule. She was taught that strength meant suppressing emotions, that kindness was a weakness, and that ruling meant ruling with an iron fist.

Her transformation from a hopeful, spirited child to a ruler shrouded in coldness and severity was a result of the toxic environment she grew up in—a reality that she struggled to reconcile as she ascended to the throne herself.

The dichotomy between Jang Wonyoung's inner desires and the imprint of her father's influence weighed heavily upon her. Despite her fervent wish to diverge from her father's oppressive ways, his control over her upbringing left an indelible mark on her personality and ruling style.

As she assumed the throne, Wonyoung grappled with an internal struggle—a battle between the ruler she felt compelled to be and the person she yearned to become. She despised the coldness she wielded, knowing deep within that it wasn't the leader she aspired to be. However, the echoes of her father's voice, the haunting memories of his stern teachings, seemed inescapable.

Her attempts at kindness were often overshadowed by the fear instilled in her from her upbringing. The constant conflict between her innate compassion and the molded ruthlessness tore at the core of her being. She found herself torn between breaking free from her father's influence and adhering to the only ruling style she had ever known.

The weight of her father's expectations, coupled with her fear of repeating his mistakes, further ensnared her within the rigid confines of her rule. It was an internal battle that seemed insurmountable, leaving her isolated in her struggle for self-redemption.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

In the heart of the kingdom, where the legacy of her father's stringent rule lingered, Jang Wonyoung held court with a chilling authority. Her reputation as a relentless and unforgiving ruler preceded her, shrouding her in an aura of intimidation.

Amidst the stifling atmosphere, a commoner known as "Y/n" crossed paths with the formidable queen. Their encounter was a collision of two worlds—one of power and one of humility. Y/n, cautious yet compassionate, possessed an understanding that seemed to pierce through Wonyoung's icy facade.

Their initial interactions were veiled with caution, yet a silent understanding began to weave its way between them. Y/n's gaze, unclouded by the tales of Wonyoung's ruthless nature, saw beyond the queen's daunting exterior, recognizing the burden she carried—a weight shaped by a lifetime of trying to meet her father's insurmountable expectations.

In the moments shared, Wonyoung sensed a glimmer of something she had long suppressed—an acceptance devoid of judgment. Y/n's presence served as an anchor—a beacon of light in the darkness of her existence.

Their connection, initially fragile, burgeoned into a sanctuary for Wonyoung—a place where she felt a sense of liberation from the stifling grip of her past. With Y/n, she dared to dismantle the barriers she had erected, slowly peeling away the layers of control and harshness that defined her rule.

In Y/n's company, Wonyoung glimpsed the possibility of a different narrative—a chance to rewrite the tale of her reign, to redefine herself not as a tyrant, but as a ruler guided by empathy and compassion.

Their relationship blossomed beyond the confines of titles and expectations, evolving into a haven of mutual understanding and respect. Through Y/n's unwavering acceptance, Wonyoung found the courage to challenge her ingrained beliefs and embrace the warmth she had long kept buried.

The union of Y/n and Wonyoung marked a transformative chapter in the kingdom of Amorella. Their love story became the cornerstone of a new era—one defined by compassion, understanding, and unity.

As they professed their love and exchanged vows, Wonyoung's resolve to rule with kindness and benevolence solidified. Her ascent to the throne alongside Y/n transformed her reign from one of intimidation to one of forgiveness and respect. She vowed to Y/n that they would nurture the kingdom together, fostering peace and harmony in their realm.

The shift in Wonyoung's ruling style echoed across Amorella. Her subjects witnessed a queen no longer driven by fear but guided by empathy. Though her sternness still commanded respect, it was now intertwined with a newfound compassion that emanated from her partnership with Y/n.

Despite her efforts to instill kindness, remnants of fear lingered among some of her subjects. There were those who still approached her with trepidation, unwilling to let her down or fall short of her expectations. Yet, gradually, they too began to witness the transformation within their queen—a transformation driven by love and a genuine desire for the well-being of her kingdom.

Y/n's influence as queen by Wonyoung's side became a testament to the unity they sought to foster. Together, they initiated policies and reforms that aimed to heal the scars of the past, striving for equality and prosperity for all within Amorella.

The kingdom, once veiled in apprehension, began to bloom under their joint rule. Acts of kindness and unity flourished, bridging the gaps that once divided the realm. The tales of Wonyoung's formidable reign slowly transformed into stories of a queen who ruled not with an iron fist, but with a compassionate heart.

Their partnership became a beacon of hope, inspiring a new legacy—a legacy of a queen who found love, redemption, and the courage to rewrite the future of her kingdom.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

As the eve of Y/n's birthday approached, an air of anticipation swept through the palace of Amorella. Queen Wonyoung, usually composed and regal, found herself consumed by a flurry of nerves and excitement, her fingers tapping anxiously against her throne.

In a rare display of restlessness, Wonyoung paced the grand halls, her mind consumed by the intricacies of the impending surprise. Her loyal servant, attuned to her every concern, stood before her, reassuring her with unwavering confidence.

"It's all going according to plan, Your Majesty," the servant assured, his demeanor calm and collected, a stark contrast to Wonyoung's jittery demeanor.

Wonyoung's eyes flickered with a mixture of anticipation and concern. "The flowers, the gifts, the decorations... everything has arrived and is being set up precisely as planned?" Her voice, usually firm and commanding, carried a hint of vulnerability, revealing her desire to make Y/n's birthday an extraordinary affair.

"Yes, Your Majesty. The arrangements are underway, and the palace is adorned with elegance fit for the occasion," the servant confirmed, his assurance aimed at calming the queen's restless nerves.

Everything had to be perfect for her queen—the Queen Wonyoung, whose usually stoic facade now reflected an endearing nervousness. Her determination to make Y/n's birthday a flawless and joyous celebration surpassed any sense of royal protocol.

Amidst the meticulous planning and anxious anticipation, Wonyoung's heart beat with the fervor of someone eager to see joy reflected in Y/n's eyes. The preparations, meticulously organized and executed, were all part of a grand gesture—a testament to Wonyoung's love and devotion to the one who had transformed her kingdom and her heart.

As if summoned by fate, Y/n's presence graced the halls of the palace at that very moment. Queen Wonyoung's anxious pacing halted as her gaze fixed upon the approaching figure, a warm smile adorning her features.

"Ah, here comes the angel," Wonyoung murmured softly to herself, her eyes brightening with a mixture of excitement and adoration.

Y/n, unaware of the birthday preparations underway, entered the grand hall, radiating an aura of grace and serenity. The usual composure of the palace seemed to amplify in Y/n's presence, the air tinged with a sense of reverence.

Wonyoung's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Y/n, her beloved's presence instantly calming her nerves. With a regal nod to her loyal servant, Wonyoung dismissed him, signaling that her attention was now solely devoted to the approaching figure.

"Y/n," Wonyoung called out, her voice infused with a tender affection that echoed through the grand hall, drawing the attention of everyone present.

Y/n turned at the sound of Wonyoung's voice, their eyes meeting in an exchange that spoke volumes—a silent language of understanding and love that transcended words.

For Wonyoung, the sight of Y/n felt like a beautiful symphony playing in her heart, a melody of warmth and comfort that washed away any lingering traces of anxiety. As Y/n drew closer, Wonyoung's smile widened, her eyes shimmering with anticipation for the grand celebration that awaited her beloved.

"Y/n, my love, welcome," Wonyoung greeted, extending her hand to Y/n, eager to embark on the enchanting journey of celebrating the person who had become the light of her life.

Wonyoung's nerves had temporarily subsided in Y/n's presence, replaced by a fervent desire to ensure everything was perfect for their beloved's birthday celebration.

"How was your visit to the garden? Everything meeting your expectations?" Wonyoung's words flowed in a rush, a testament to her eagerness to please Y/n. Her tone held a mix of anticipation and concern, her eyes searching Y/n's face for any hint of dissatisfaction.

A faint unease lingered in Wonyoung's expression, a fear that perhaps something might not have aligned with Y/n's desires. Her mind raced with scenarios of potential shortcomings, ready to rectify any flaw, no matter how minor, to ensure Y/n's special day remained flawless.

"If not, I'll call the gardener to change everything," Wonyoung continued, her anxiety manifesting in her words. Her commitment to perfection reflected her unwavering dedication to Y/n, the thought of any disappointment on their special day causing her visible distress.

Despite the meticulous planning and preparations, Wonyoung's sole focus was on Y/n's happiness. Her determination to surpass their expectations was evident, her willingness to go to any lengths to ensure Y/n's joy unmistakable in her fervent ramblings.

Y/n's words washed over Wonyoung like a soothing balm, instantly calming the queen's anxious heart. Her beloved's reassurance brought a serene smile to Wonyoung's lips, a sense of relief flooding her.

"My love, calm down," Y/n's voice, tender and reassuring, carried a touch of amusement, affection dancing in their eyes as they looked upon Wonyoung.

The weight that had burdened Wonyoung's shoulders lifted at Y/n's words. A warmth spread through her, a profound gratitude swelling within her chest. The genuine appreciation reflected in Y/n's eyes filled Wonyoung's heart with an immeasurable joy.

"I love everything the gardener does; it's all beautiful. Thank you for my present," Y/n expressed, their words carrying a depth of gratitude that tugged at Wonyoung's heartstrings.

Wonyoung's eyes shimmered with unspoken emotions—relief, gratitude, and an overwhelming love for Y/n. The acknowledgment of her efforts by the one she cherished most meant more to her than any meticulously planned celebration.

Her nerves finally settled, replaced by an overwhelming sense of contentment. In that moment, Wonyoung felt a profound sense of fulfillment, knowing that the love and thoughtfulness she poured into the preparations had been received with such heartfelt appreciation by Y/n.

With a soft smile, Wonyoung gently grasped Y/n's hand, her eyes conveying a depth of affection that words could never fully capture. In Y/n's gratitude, she found the greatest gift—a validation that her love and efforts were cherished and valued above all else.

Wonyoung's smile widened at Y/n's gracious words, their appreciation washing away any lingering trace of tension. With a soft chuckle, she gently kissed Y/n's hand in response to their heartfelt gratitude.

"That's not your only present, more is to come," Wonyoung revealed, a mischievous glint dancing in her eyes. Her tone held a playful hint, hinting at the surprises yet to be unveiled for Y/n's special day.

Her words carried a promise, an assurance that the celebration was far from over. Wonyoung's heart swelled with anticipation, eager to witness the joy and delight that awaited Y/n as the day unfolded.

Y/n's eyes widened with pleasant surprise, curiosity sparking in their gaze at Wonyoung's playful hint. The queen's cryptic declaration filled the air with an aura of excitement, heightening the anticipation of what other surprises Wonyoung had orchestrated for their celebration.

In that moment, a sense of joyful anticipation enveloped them both, the promise of more surprises adding an extra layer of magic to Y/n's birthday celebration. With a shared glance filled with love and excitement, they stood on the cusp of a day brimming with surprises, laughter, and boundless love.

Wonyoung's heart fluttered at Y/n's endearing words, a tender affection sweeping through her. She met Y/n's gaze with unwavering adoration, the depth of her feelings shining in her eyes.

"Your presence is more than enough, Wony," Y/n reiterated, their voice filled with heartfelt sincerity that resonated deeply within Wonyoung's being.

A soft chuckle escaped Wonyoung as she gently shook her head, a fond smile gracing her lips. "But let me spoil you," she insisted, her voice carrying a playful insistence.

There was an earnestness in Wonyoung's desire to shower Y/n with affection, to adorn them with tokens of her love and appreciation. The joy she found in making Y/n happy was immeasurable, and she was determined to make this day unforgettable in its simplicity and tenderness.

"As long as you're happy, that's all that truly matters," Wonyoung added, her words infused with a deep sense of devotion.

In that moment, amidst the affectionate exchange, Wonyoung silently pledged to create cherished memories with Y/n, intertwining every heartfelt gesture and shared experience into the tapestry of their love story.

As the night draped the room in a serene stillness, Y/n found solace within the pages of a beloved book, nestled comfortably in the expanse of their bedroom. The gentle whispers of pages turning filled the air, casting a tranquil ambiance.

The clock's hands converged at midnight, marking the arrival of Y/n's birthday, yet Queen Wonyoung was conspicuously absent. A tinge of uncertainty flickered in Y/n's eyes, wondering if perhaps the day would pass without any fanfare.

However, the quietude was soon interrupted by the soft creaking of the door. In stepped Wonyoung, her presence a welcome sight as she entered the room, bearing a birthday cake adorned with flickering candles. The warm glow of the candles illuminated her face, reflecting a tender smile that graced her lips.

"Happy birthday, my love," Wonyoung greeted, her voice laced with genuine affection as she presented the cake to Y/n. Her eyes shimmered with a hint of anticipation, eager to share in this special moment.

Y/n's initial surprise transformed into a radiant smile at the sight of Wonyoung, her heart swelling with gratitude and love. The tender gesture, though simple, held a depth that touched Y/n deeply.

"Thank you," Y/n murmured, their voice carrying a heartfelt warmth, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind Wonyoung's gesture.

In that intimate exchange, surrounded by the soft glow of candlelight, Wonyoung's presence filled the room with an atmosphere of love and celebration. The simplicity of the moment held a beauty that surpassed any grand festivities—the queen's heartfelt gesture a testament to the depth of their connection.

"Make a wish, and I promise you it will come true," Wonyoung gently urged, her voice soft yet filled with a heartfelt assurance.

Y/n gazed at Wonyoung with profound affection, a single wish resonating deep within them, something to enrich their lives—a family. "I wish for us to start a family," they whispered, their voice carrying a heartfelt longing.

Y/n, still holding onto the heartfelt wish, leaned forward to blow out the flickering candle atop the birthday cake. As the gentle breeze extinguished the flame, a quiet sense of hope and anticipation lingered in the air—a wish for a future filled with love, unity, and the prospect of starting a family.

Wonyoung gasped in surprise, her eyes reflecting a whirlwind of emotions—astonishment, joy, and a profound sense of commitment. "I will make sure that comes true, my love," she vowed, her voice resolute with unwavering determination.

With the cake set aside, Wonyoung moved closer, enveloping Y/n in a tender embrace. Cradling Y/n in her arms, she held them close, feeling the warmth and comfort of their closeness.

As Y/n nestled against her, Wonyoung's thoughts swirled with the weight of Y/n's wish. She gazed down at them, her heart swelling with emotions as she envisioned a future with their family. The image of Y/n, radiant and swollen with their children, stirred an indescribable joy within her.

In that intimate moment, nestled together, Wonyoung's heartbeat with a newfound anticipation, envisioning the legacy they would create together—their heirs, the future of their kingdom, and most importantly, the love that would bind their family.

In the serenity of the night, cocooned in each other's embrace, the weight of their shared dreams and promises lingered in the air. As the tranquil stillness of the room enveloped them, Y/n and Wonyoung succumbed to the gentle embrace of slumber, their intertwined dreams painting a canvas of a future filled with love, family, and boundless possibilities. The soft cadence of their breathing, in perfect harmony, echoed the tranquility of their hearts as they drifted into a peaceful sleep, their hopes and desires intertwined in the embrace of their shared journey.

As the morning sun painted the sky with hues of gold, Y/n lay peacefully in bed, serenely lost in slumber. Meanwhile, Queen Wonyoung, adorned with an air of excitement, moved with purpose through the corridors of the castle. Her steps were swift yet purposeful, ensuring every detail was meticulously arranged for the day's celebration.

The palace buzzed with the final preparations, the atmosphere charged with an air of anticipation. Wonyoung's heart swelled with eagerness as she oversaw the last-minute touches, ensuring that the surprise for Y/n's morning celebration would be nothing short of perfect.

"Your Majesty, everything is perfect and complete. When you are ready, you should bring Her Majesty down," one of the castle attendants informed Wonyoung, their voice laced with a hint of excitement and readiness.

A smile tugged at the corners of Wonyoung's lips, a sense of satisfaction washing over her at the news of the completed arrangements. With a regal nod, she acknowledged the attendant, her heart racing with anticipation to share the day's surprises with Y/n.

As the attendant departed, Wonyoung took a moment to collect herself, her excitement bubbling beneath her composed exterior. With a deep breath, she prepared herself to awaken Y/n and unveil the morning's celebrations—a cherished moment meant only for the two of them before the town joined in the evening festivities.

"Yes, I shall wake her up," Wonyoung exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement as she dashed up the stairs, anticipation radiating from her every step. The joyous anticipation of surprising Y/n filled her with an electrifying energy, her heart racing with eagerness to share this special moment.

With each stride, Wonyoung's excitement grew, her thoughts consumed by the happiness she aimed to bring to her beloved. As she ascended the stairs, she imagined the delight on Y/n's face upon discovering the morning's carefully planned surprises—a moment she eagerly anticipated.

The image of Y/n's radiant smile and the shared moments of joy spurred Wonyoung onward, her steps quickening with the fervor of someone eager to bring happiness to the person she cherished most. With a determined resolve, she approached their chambers, ready to awaken Y/n to the delightful surprises awaiting them.

Wonyoung stepped into their shared suite, a gentle smile adorning her features as she beheld Y/n, peacefully asleep before her. With utmost tenderness, she approached the bed, her voice a soft whisper, laden with affection.

"Y/n, my love, wake up. I have a surprise for you," Wonyoung murmured, leaning closer to gently nudge Y/n awake, eager to share the morning's special celebration with her beloved.

Her heart swelled with anticipation, the excitement of revealing the carefully orchestrated surprise palpable in the air. As Y/n stirred from slumber, Wonyoung's eyes shimmered with a mixture of joy and anticipation, waiting eagerly for Y/n's awakening, ready to unveil the morning's surprises crafted solely for them to cherish together.

Y/n's eyes fluttered open, greeted by Wonyoung's adoring smile, causing a warm sensation to bloom within. "Good morning, my love," Wonyoung greeted affectionately.

"Morning," Y/n replied, their voice soft and slightly groggy as they stretched, the remnants of sleep still lingering.

With a gentle nudge, Wonyoung encouraged Y/n to freshen up, a glimmer of excitement dancing in her eyes. "Come on, let's freshen up. I want to show you your surprise," she urged, her voice filled with anticipation, eager to share the meticulously planned celebration she had arranged for Y/n's special day.

Y/n, though still waking from their slumber, nodded with a faint smile, energized by Wonyoung's enthusiasm. With a shared glance filled with love and anticipation, they prepared themselves for the surprise that awaited—a morning meant solely for their celebration and togetherness.

With a sense of anticipation and curiosity, Y/n swiftly prepared themselves and stood ready to experience Wonyoung's surprise. Eager to unveil the celebration planned by her beloved, Y/n's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Okay, Wony, show me your surprise," Y/n expressed, a playful enthusiasm evident in their voice. They couldn't contain their excitement, already tugging Wonyoung toward the door, eager to discover the carefully orchestrated surprises that awaited them.

Wonyoung beamed with delight at Y/n's eagerness, allowing herself to be pulled along, her heart filled with joy at the prospect of sharing the morning's festivities with her beloved. Hand in hand, they embarked on the adventure awaiting them, ready to explore the surprises and celebrate the day meant solely for their shared happiness.

As Y/n and Wonyoung descended the stairs, a breathtaking sight greeted them—the entire castle adorned with exquisite decorations, a celebration in honor of Y/n's birthday. The grandeur of the decorations took Y/n by surprise, prompting a gasp to escape their lips.

Overwhelmed by the sheer thoughtfulness and effort Wonyoung had poured into the surprise, tears welled up in Y/n's eyes, shimmering with a mixture of astonishment and deep gratitude. The sight of the castle transformed into a haven of celebration left Y/n speechless, emotions swelling within them.

Wonyoung stood by, her heart swelling with joy at Y/n's emotional reaction. The glimmer of tears in Y/n's eyes reflected the depth of their appreciation for the efforts made by the queen.

"It's... it's beautiful," Y/n whispered, their voice quivering with emotions as they took in the grandeur of the castle's transformation, a celebration dedicated solely to them.

Wonyoung, beaming with pride and happiness, gently squeezed Y/n's hand, her eyes reflecting her own joy at witnessing Y/n's emotional response to the surprise. In that moment, amidst the enchanting decorations, the shared love and affection between the two illuminated the castle even more than the exquisite adornments.

"I'm glad you love it, my love," Wonyoung murmured, her voice filled with genuine warmth and affection as she gazed at Y/n, her heart swelling with happiness at their response to the surprise.

Y/n turned to Wonyoung, their eyes shimmering with gratitude and love. "It's beyond anything I could have imagined," they replied, their voice trembling with emotion.

In that moment, amidst the grandeur of the celebration and the depth of their shared emotions, Wonyoung and Y/n stood united, their bond strengthened by the overwhelming love and care they held for each other. The beauty of the decorated castle paled in comparison to the depth of their connection and the heartfelt efforts made by Wonyoung to make Y/n's birthday a cherished and unforgettable occasion.

"Don't cry, honey," Wonyoung said softly, reaching out to gently wipe away Y/n's tears, her touch conveying comfort and reassurance.

Y/n managed a soft laugh through their tears, feeling overwhelmed by the heartfelt emotions. "I can't help it, it's just so... beautiful," they expressed, their voice quivering with heartfelt emotions.

Wonyoung pulled Y/n into a warm embrace, holding them tenderly against her, offering solace and reassurance amidst the overwhelming emotions. In that serene moment, enveloped in each other's embrace, the love they shared transcended the grandeur of the celebration, becoming the true essence of the day's beauty and significance.

"I'll do anything to make you happy," Wonyoung whispered, her voice filled with unwavering commitment and adoration as she held Y/n close, offering an unspoken promise within her heartfelt words.

Y/n's heart swelled with warmth at Wonyoung's earnest vow. "You already do," they replied softly, their voice resonating with love and appreciation for the queen who had gone above and beyond to create a momentous celebration, one filled with love, surprises, and cherished memories.

In that intimate exchange, surrounded by the beauty of the decorated castle and the depth of their affectionate bond, Wonyoung and Y/n stood together, united by a love that surpassed any grand gesture or celebration—a love that was the true foundation of their happiness and contentment.

"Come on, let's head to the garden for our morning tea and breakfast," Wonyoung suggested softly, her voice carrying a gentle warmth as she guided Y/n through the adorned halls, allowing them to take in the beauty of the decorations that surrounded them.

Y/n marveled at the intricate decorations, still touched by Wonyoung's thoughtfulness. They nodded in agreement, allowing Wonyoung to lead the way, appreciating every detail of the transformed castle as they walked towards the garden.

Stepping into the lush garden, the serene beauty of nature enhanced by the ornate decorations, Y/n's heart fluttered with gratitude. Wonyoung's efforts had transformed the space into a haven of tranquility and celebration, a perfect setting for a morning meal together.

They found themselves a cozy spot amidst the blossoming flowers and gently flowing fountains, a serene tableau set against the backdrop of the adorned garden. As they settled, Y/n couldn't help but feel a deep sense of contentment, grateful for the love and care Wonyoung had poured into every aspect of the morning's celebration.

Seated amidst the serene beauty of the garden, savoring the morning tea and breakfast, Wonyoung excused herself, expressing a desire to retrieve Y/n's present. As Y/n awaited her return, a soft, tender touch caressed their stomach, an action filled with hidden anticipation and a precious secret.

In the quiet solitude of the garden, Y/n couldn't help but smile, the news they held close to their heart warming them from within. Tonight held its own surprise—a joyous revelation they eagerly anticipated sharing with Wonyoung, a moment that would deepen their bond even more.

The gentle breeze played with the foliage, creating a soothing ambiance that seemed to echo the excitement bubbling within Y/n. They gazed fondly at the surroundings, contemplating the delight that would soon envelop Wonyoung upon hearing the unexpected news, a revelation that would add an extra layer of joy to their shared celebration later in the evening.

Wonyoung returned, slightly out of breath, but her face lit up with excitement as she presented the medium-sized jewelry box. Y/n smiled warmly, assuring her that the wait was no inconvenience at all.

As Y/n carefully held the box in their hands, anticipation filled the air. With trembling fingers, they opened it, revealing a stunning necklace that left them speechless. Tears welled up in their eyes, overwhelmed by the beauty and thoughtfulness of the gift.

"It's... it's beautiful," Y/n whispered, their voice choked with emotion, marveling at the exquisite design and the personalized touch of the queen's initials engraved on the back. They were too moved to articulate the depth of their gratitude.

Wonyoung beamed with pride and affection at Y/n's reaction. "I designed it and had it made to fit a queen like you," she expressed, her voice filled with adoration. "Made with our most expensive diamond because you deserve it all, my love."

Y/n's heart swelled with an overflow of emotions, unable to find the words to express the overwhelming gratitude they felt. Wonyoung's declaration of love and the sentiment behind the gift moved them deeply.

"Wonyoung, it's beautiful," Y/n managed to whisper, their voice filled with heartfelt appreciation.

"I'll get you whatever your heart desires, my love. Remember that," Wonyoung declared, her gaze filled with unwavering affection as she stared at Y/n lovingly.

In that heartfelt exchange, amidst the beauty of the moment and the depth of their shared emotions, Y/n and Wonyoung stood united, their love and commitment shining brighter than any gem, an unbreakable bond that held their hearts together.

The day passed in a tranquil celebration, Y/n and Wonyoung basking in each other's company, cherishing quiet moments and shared smiles. It was a peaceful prelude to the grand festivities awaiting them later that night—a time for the two of them to revel in the calmness before the excitement of the evening's party.

Wonyoung would occasionally jest, calling it "the calm before the storm," hinting at the imminent lively celebrations. Yet, the serene moments spent together were just as cherished, filled with laughter, intimate conversations, and the warmth of their shared love.

As night descended, the castle came alive with preparations for the grand party. The air was charged with anticipation, the energy palpable as guests began arriving, their laughter and chatter filling the halls.

Wonyoung and Y/n, adorned in their finest attire, stood side by side, ready to greet the guests and partake in the joyous festivities. The night promised to be a celebration of love, unity, and the shared journey of the royal couple—a night where the kingdom would come together to honor their queen and celebrate the depth of their bond.

Amidst the lively atmosphere of the party, where laughter and music filled the air, Wonyoung's eyes locked with Y/n's, a silent invitation conveyed in her gaze. She extended her hand gracefully, offering Y/n a dance, her smile warm and inviting.

Y/n's eyes sparkled with delight at Wonyoung's gesture, a grin spreading across their face. Without hesitation, they clasped Wonyoung's hand, their heart brimming with excitement at the prospect of sharing this moment with their beloved.

Together, hand in hand, they made their way to the center of the dance floor, the crowd parting respectfully, forming a circle around them. All eyes were on the royal couple as they prepared to dance, the admiration and respect evident in the gazes of the guests.

As the music enveloped them in its enchanting melody, Wonyoung and Y/n swayed together, moving gracefully in perfect harmony. Their dance was a mesmerizing sight—a reflection of their unity and the depth of their connection, captivating everyone around them.

The guests watched in awe as the royal couple waltzed, their movements synchronized, exuding elegance and grace. It was a dance that transcended the celebration—a beautiful portrayal of love and unity that touched the hearts of everyone present, a moment that would be remembered and cherished throughout the kingdom.

As the night's festivities wound down and the party came to an end, the echoes of laughter and music slowly faded, leaving the royal chambers in a tranquil embrace. The vibrant celebration had drawn to a close, the jovial guests bidding their farewells and departing, leaving the castle cloaked in a serene stillness.

Wonyoung and Y/n found themselves alone in the privacy of their chambers, the remnants of the lively soirée a distant memory. They changed into more comfortable attire, basking in the quietude that followed the night's excitement.

As Wonyoung emerged from changing, she found Y/n waiting with a hidden surprise behind their back. Curiosity sparkled in Wonyoung's eyes as she inquired about the unexpected gesture.

"Wonyoung, I know it's my birthday and all, but I have a present for you too," Y/n revealed, producing a rattle with a white bow wrapped around it. A sheepish yet joyous smile adorned their face as they shared the heartfelt news. "We're going to start a family."

Tears welled in Wonyoung's eyes, shimmering with a mixture of happiness and awe. "Really?" she whimpered, her voice trembling with sheer joy.

"Yes, you're going to be a mommy," Y/n confirmed, tears of joy streaming down their faces.

Overwhelmed with emotions, Wonyoung enveloped Y/n in a tight embrace, tears of happiness cascading down her cheeks. "I'm going to be a mommy," she whispered in disbelief, the enormity of the moment sinking in.

Pulling away slightly, Wonyoung gazed into Y/n's eyes, a surge of love and joy filling her heart. She cupped Y/n's face gently, expressing her affection with a passionate kiss, every touch conveying love and joy.

"I love you so much," Wonyoung expressed, caressing Y/n's face tenderly.

With heartfelt tenderness, Wonyoung knelt down, drawing closer to Y/n's stomach. "I love you too, my baby. I will never let anything harm you or your mama. And I promise you, I will never be like your grandpa," she vowed, her voice filled with determination and love, promising to protect and cherish their family with all her heart.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Nine months passed in a whirlwind of anticipation and excitement, culminating in the arrival of the newest member of their family, Sarang. She was a living testament to the love shared between Wonyoung and Y/n, a perfect blend of their features and an embodiment of their unwavering affection. Thus, they chose to name her Sarang—a name that signified their boundless love and adoration.

From the moment Sarang entered their lives, her presence filled every corner of their home with an indescribable joy. Her laughter, her curious gaze, and the warmth of her tiny hands wrapped around their fingers became the very essence of their existence. She became the epitome of their love, a source of immeasurable happiness that surpassed anything they had ever experienced.

Wonyoung, gazing at her daughter nestled in Y/n's arms, felt her heart swell with an overwhelming sense of completeness. The sheer sight of Sarang filled her with an inexplicable joy that radiated from within. In that moment, as her eyes met Sarang's, she knew that her family was whole, that this tiny, precious soul completed the circle of their love.

Every coo, every smile from Sarang reaffirmed the depth of their bond. Wonyoung and Y/n were overwhelmed by the love their daughter showered upon them. Sarang's presence was a constant reminder of the beauty and warmth that their love had created—a love that had blossomed into the most cherished gift of their lives.

Wonyoung felt vulnerable, but the immense love emanating from both you and your child was undeniable. She gazed at the two people who had become her world, her heart aching with an indescribable joy. ”'I love you both so much,” she whispered, her voice filled with vulnerability and raw emotion.

The weight of her words encapsulated the depth of her feelings—feelings that transcended any vulnerability she may have felt. It was a confession, a declaration of the profound love that bound their little family together. In that tender moment, amidst the warmth of their embrace, Wonyoung's vulnerability became a testament to the immeasurable love she held for her beloved Y/n and their precious daughter, Sarang.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

In a room enveloped by tense silence, Wonyoung's voice pierced the air, cutting through the caregiver's attempts to explain the incident involving Sarang's injury.

"You were trained to watch my daughter while my wife and I performed our royal duties, and she got injured under your care," Wonyoung's voice was cold, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and disappointment.

The caregiver's explanations were swiftly interrupted by the Queen's sharp rebuttals, rendering each sentence futile.

"Silence!" Her command echoed, freezing everyone in the room, the atmosphere growing heavy with the weight of her displeasure. Not a single soul dared to utter a word.

With unwavering authority, Wonyoung's decree rang out. "Guards, escort this woman out of my castle and ensure she never sets foot here again," she ordered firmly, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

The main guard wasted no time, swiftly adhering to the Queen's commands, despite the caregiver's tearful protests. As the woman was escorted out, Wonyoung, feeling the tension grip her, sank back into her seat, rubbing her temples in frustration.

The past version of herself would have taken harsher actions, but she now understood the delicate balance between authority and compassion. She reflected on the person she had become, a ruler who wielded her power with a sense of fairness and restraint. Though her anger simmered, she chose a measured response, a testament to her growth and evolution as a leader.

The heavy tension in the room dissolved into the sweet melody of laughter when Y/n and Sarang's joyful giggles echoed through the chamber. Unaware of the earlier confrontation, Y/n carried Sarang in her arms, gliding toward Wonyoung with an innocent ease.

"Mommy!" Sarang squealed with delight, wriggling free from Y/n's arms and darting towards Wonyoung, leaping into her awaiting embrace.

Wonyoung's stern countenance melted away at the sight of her daughter. "My baby, how's your boo-boo?" she inquired, feigning a pout, a rare sight that surprised her guards, who had never witnessed their queen in such a tender moment.

Sarang, oblivious to the earlier incident, beamed up at Wonyoung. "It's okay! Mama made me all better. She said her kisses are magic," she giggled, her eyes sparkling with innocence.

"Your mama's kisses are magic," Wonyoung affirmed with a smile, her gaze then shifting to Y/n, a playful wink exchanged between them. In that precious moment, surrounded by the love of her family, Wonyoung's walls came down, revealing the softer side of the queen—the side that only emerged in the presence of those she cherished the most.

Wonyoung's heart skipped a beat, her eyes meeting Y/n's with a hint of unease as Sarang played with her hair, absorbed in her own little world.

"It was just a scratch, Wony, nothing too bad. I hope you didn't do anything too harsh to the caregiver," Y/n said, raising an eyebrow, her concern evident.

Wonyoung felt a pang of guilt as she hesitantly confessed, "I... I kicked her out and forbade her from coming back." She winced, apprehensive about Y/n's response.

The sternness in Y/n's voice caught Wonyoung off guard. "Why would you forbid her from coming back? Kicking her out is fine, but everyone is welcomed here," Y/n stated firmly, her tone leaving no room for ambiguity.

Wonyoung swallowed hard, realizing her mistake. She knew Y/n's compassion extended beyond their own family, encompassing everyone within the kingdom. The weight of her decision weighed heavily on her, and she realized she had acted in haste without considering the broader implications.

With a sigh, Wonyoung nodded, acknowledging her misstep. "You're right, love. I'll rectify the situation," she promised, determined to make amends for her actions and uphold Y/n's principle of inclusivity and compassion within their kingdom.

As Sarang eagerly clasped onto Y/n's hand, their little expedition towards the kitchen began. Wonyoung, still seated, couldn't help but express her desire for a treat.

"Bring me something?" Wonyoung called out with a hopeful tone laced in her words.

"No, get it yourself," Y/n retorted in a playful manner, sticking her tongue out teasingly as they rounded the corner, heading toward the kitchen.

Wonyoung let out an exaggerated huff, feigning annoyance, yet a hint of amusement danced in her eyes. She couldn't resist trailing behind them, finally rising from her seat and following after her family. After all, the banter and playful teasing were all part of the affectionate dynamic they shared, and the prospect of joining them in the kitchen was too tempting to resist.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The passage of time had woven a tapestry of love and growth in their lives. Sarang, their beloved daughter, had blossomed into a mature individual. She yearned for a love as enduring as the one shared between her parents, and Y/n assured her that her destined time would arrive.

Meanwhile, Wonyoung, fiercely protective of her daughter, attempted to deter any potential suitors. Yet, fate intervened, and Sarang found her forever—her soulmate, someone who seamlessly fit into the fabric of their family. Their love story became an extension of Y/n and Wonyoung's, a testament to the enduring power of love that transcended generations.

As years passed, Sarang had children of her own—a little boy and a girl. Y/n and Wonyoung embraced their roles as doting grandparents, indulging their grandchildren with affection and fulfilling their every wish.

Yet, time was a relentless force, aging Y/n and Wonyoung gradually. Their love, however, remained unwavering, weathering the trials of time. Eventually, as their twilight years approached, they found solace in each other's presence, their love standing the test of time.

In the twilight of their lives, they held hands, their fingers entwined in an unspoken promise that transcended words. Together, they took their last breath, their love enduring beyond the boundaries of mortality, leaving behind a legacy of profound love and an unwavering bond that would forever linger in the hearts of their family.

The End.💕

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

[bonefall]

Pishkaf om Chakchak: The Parable of the Squirrels

A Clan Culture story, translated into Clanmew by @bonefall and @troutfur

[ID: A red squirrel and a gray squirrel in a pixelated style, circling each other.]

A ThunderClan parable, taught to kits as soon as they're able to understand, that stresses the cultural importance of managing prey populations. Gray squirrels are an invasive species, notoriously aggressive towards the native red squirrel and driving them extinct across the island.

ThunderClan's reputation of being bossy and obsessed with squirrels is not unfounded; this myth is quite important to understanding their cultural self-perception as "defenders of the forest"! They are easily offended by the unauthorized killing of their beloved red squirrels, and their leaders have historically restricted the trade of their beautiful pelts.

[NOTE: In BB, SkyClan was never forgotten. It continues to be remembered, largely as an antagonist, in myths such as these... and before his quest, Firestar begins to question the accuracy of what he had been taught.]

Translator's Notes;

This story is told in the original Clanmew, a direct translation, and then an English translation.

Though Troutfur hails from RiverClan, and Bonefall from ShadowClan, they have chosen to use ThunderClan-centric pronouns to preserve how a kitten typically first hears the myth.

Ssoen pishkaf-ul wirrehen ssarabenyr. Sabsab Yaawrl-ulnyams upanna om Krraka-ulnyams upanna nekboq wiskofskabo. “Urrpkaash om karrl wees’skofska,” huskarra pishkaf mwrrarrlur. Wilakringra pishkaf mwrrwora.

[StarClan-knowledge red-squirrel-only they(harmless)-existed they(powerful)-beheld. Between SkyClan territory and ThunderClan territory nuts they(harmless)-burried. “We(exclusive)-will-sleep and command you(harmless)-will-bury,” whisker-amount red-squirrel they(rogue)-decided. They(harmless)-refused red-squirrel they(rogue)-killed.]

"So StarClan Witnessed: there was once a time when only red squirrels existed. Between SkyClan and ThunderClan territory they buried their nuts. Then, some squirrels commanded the others to bury them while they slept, and killed those who resisted."

Krrakashai ssargryyr afhawawang wishabharbe. Kurr shaigorrlwang ssargryyr-yrr, loshasa  wowa yaog ssarpoorr ssarahnhech. Nymwang mwrrgryyr pishkaf rarrshaiworra.

[Thunderstar he(powerful)-contain kind-quality they(harmless)-invoked. Because leader-quality he(powerful) contain-ed, stewardship over forest he(powerful)-will-do he(powerful)-agreed. Evil they(rogue)-contain red-squirrel they(outsiders)-star-killed.]

"And so the weak squirrels appealed to Thunderstar's good nature. As a leader must, he agreed to exercise fair stewardship over the forest. Those squirrels who were of an evil nature were executed."

Niferr Yaawrlshai heffn pishkaf wishabharbe, yarnuff, fuh kelfawang ssarkignaka. “Heffnwang wigryyr arrga gabpwang mwrrrgryyr arrga mwrrkarrabeb. Shai ssararrlur,” ssarababab.

[When Skystar weak red-squirrel they(weak)-invoked,  to offense-quality he(powerful)-turned. “Weak-quality they(harmless)-contain strong-quality they(rogue)-contain animal they(rogue)-dominate. Stars they(powerful)-commanded,” he(powerful)-said.]

"Skystar, however, was offended by the pleas of the weak squirrels. “Might makes right,” said he, “such have The Stars commanded”. "

Hissawang shai ssargryyr-yrr, irr ssargryyr nyekmwa ssarna'hesene. Neek mwrrworrawang pishkaf mwrrna'hese pon Yaawrlshaiwang mwrrloorrpis ssarabfrinra. Grrim-om-loerrwang faf wipeb'bep'arr om oskwang boma wripeb'bep'arr om neek mwrr kyarag ssarnyarpoorr, wowa yaog mwrrskurssya. Chakchak hi.

[Anger-quality stars they(powerful)-contain-ed, so they(powerful)-contain displeasure they(powerful)-demonstrated. If murder-quality red-squirrel they(rogue)-will-demonstrate then Skystar-quality they(rogue)-will-resemble they(powerful)-decided. Dark-grey-and-dull-quality fur it(harmless)-metamorphosed  and white-quality belly it(harmless)-metamorphosed and if they(rogue) control they(powerful)-not-will-do, over forest they(rogue)-tyranny-will. Grey-squirrel there.]

"StarClan was angered by this, and thus they decided to show their displeasure. A murderous squirrel would be as Skystar. Their fur would be dull and grey, their belly white like his, and unmanaged they would take over a forest. These are grey squirrels."

Shahafwang Krrakashai-en-pishkaf wiloorrpis ssarabfrinra. Krrakashaiwang, yaywi-faf-om-kasmor-irawang, wipeb'bep'arr. Krraka-ulnyams shai ssarshepownan kurr afhawawang rarrgryyr1.

[Holy-quality Thunderstar-’s-red-squirrels they(harmless)-will-resemble they(powerful)-decided. Thunderstar-quality, bright-fur-and-long-ears-quality, they(harmless)-became. ThunderClan stars they(powerful)-rewarded because kind-quality they(outsiders)-contain.]

"Thunderstar's were blessed instead, becoming bright and long-eared like him. This was StarClan’s reward for ThunderClan’s kindness."

[mybeautifuldelirium]

I don’t know why I want this so bad but here we go!

So I had an idea for a reader x Aemond where reader is one of Rhaenrya’s kids and they have been secretly seeing each other since they know their siblings would make fun of both of them if they knew.

Anyway Aemond takes reader with him when he goes to claim Vhagar and she’s a nervous wreck the whole time and if she’s nervous about just sneaking out you can imagine how she’d be when the first flight happens and she’s with Aemond when the fight breaks out between all the kids. During the questioning she sides with Aemond without a second thought and after all the fighting she chooses to go with Aemond back to Kingslanding and eventually get married. Then like the show a few years pass and we have the day of the trial and dinner and she tries to stop Aemond from starting the fight and then just fluff.

I hope this all made sense I got excited and went on a tangent 🤣 whether you take this request or not just know you’re an amazing writer and I can’t wait to see what else you write! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Always Meant to be Together || Aemond Targaryen x reader

A/N: so I did divert a bit from the request but as usual the overall premise is the same, hope u enjoy xx

Summary: Y/N is Rhaenyra’s first born daughter, Aemond’s closest friend, the one who was by his side during the incident and went against her own family to protect him. But after six years of being apart, has their relationship changed or could they be again, what they once were?

Warnings: angst, fluff, Targaryen incest

The true born Targaryen children of queen Alicent and the supposed bastards of princess Rhaenyra were never meant to get along, despite being of the same blood, they could never be of the same side. But as fate has it, rules always have their exceptions.

-

“Behold, The Pink Dread” the three boys laughed in unison as they presented the pig to the younger prince.

A cruel joke, this was, making the poor boy run out of the dragonpit.

“Very mature of you, Aegon” Y/N scolded him as she had just entered “And you two, is this what mother has taught you?”

“It was a mere jest, sister; why are you so concerned?” Jace giggled as he winked at the other boys, making them join in with laughter.

Y/N scoffed at his insinuation and went to follow after Aemond.

“Don’t listen to these fools, I know you’ll get a dragon very soon” the young girl said as she cautiously approached the prince.

“I don’t need your pity” he mumbled in annoyance, without looking at her.

“I’m not pitying you, I’m simply stating the truth” Y/N said, now with full confidence.

Aemond finally stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her “You truly believe so?” he asked, hints of hope in his voice.

“Of course! You’re a Targaryen prince after all” she smiled “And besides I believe you’re much braver than Aegon and my brothers” Y/N scrunched her nose, as they both giggled.

From that day, the two kids became quite inseparable, much to the displeasure of their mothers, they would often sneak out and spend time together.

-

It was way past her bedtime, yet sleep wouldn’t come upon Y/N, she was squeezing her eyes shut, tossing and turning in her bed, but to no avail. The images of Laena’s funeral from earlier that day still haunted her mind. Y/N didn’t know her aunt very well yet she couldn’t help but feel consumed by sorrow. Soon however, her eyelids at last grew heavy as she drifted into a dreamless slumber.

“Y/N, wake up” a hasty whisper suddenly brought her back. But as the girl was about to let out a startled scream, a cold palm was placed on top of her lips to shush her. “Hey, it’s me, it’s me, Aemond”

“Aemond?! What are you doing here”

“Shhh, come, follow me” he gestured towards the door.

“What?! Have you gone mad?! It’s the middle of the night!” the young girl whisper-yelled, confusion and exhaustion washed over her face.

“Please, just trust me, I need you”

Y/N sighed as she slowly got up, there was something about this violet gaze of his, when he was looking directly at her, that always managed to make her unable to refuse his pleas.

It was a clear night, the stars were glistening like thousands of diamonds as the chilling breeze was piercing through Y/N’s thin robe that she had loosely tied over her silk nightgown.

“Aemond, where are we going? I’m freezing”

“We’re almost there” the boy tried to reassure her.

The two kids continued their walk through the seemingly endless field and as Y/N was starting to consider running back inside her warm chambers, they were met with the magnificent silhouette of no other than Vhagar, the largest dragon alive, her late aunt’s dragon. And though asleep, the mere proximity to him made the little girl shiver with fear.

“We really shouldn’t be here; let’s go back to the castle” she ushered the young prince, her words, however were left unheard as he slowly approached the beast, enamored by its presence.

“Aemond, don’t!” she let out a scared squeal as Vhagar began to wake up.

“You said I was going to get a dragon and this is what I intend on doing” he smirked at her.

“This is not what I meant Aemond, please”

But the boy did not listen and by the time Y/N had comprehended the situation, he had already somehow managed to mount the dragon.

“Come” he finally spoke, reaching his hand down to her.

“No! There’s no way I’m doing this! And you shouldn’t be either. Please come down” she pleaded, her voice full of worry.

“Fine, suit yourself” Aemond mumbled as he commanded Vhagar to fly.

Y/N stood there, filled with dread as she watched the enormous beast take off with her best friend. Those few minutes of their flight were the most agonizing moments she had endured, they felt like an eternity and she couldn’t help but imagine the worst possible outcomes.

The poor girl almost burst into tears when she saw Vhagar landing right beside her with Aemond unharmed. The boy was beaming with pride and excitement as he had finally gotten his so deeply desired dragon.

“You fool” she wept with relief as she leapt to embrace him.

Their happiness however was short lived as on their way back they were met with enraged faces of Y/N’s two younger brothers and her cousins.

“There he is! Sister, what are you doing with this thief?” Jace spat at her, a mixture of disgust and disbelief lingering in his voice.

“He stole my mother’s dragon, she was mine to claim!” Rhaena screamed through tears as she charged towards Aemond.

It wasn’t long before a vicious fight broke out between the children.

“Jacaerys, Lucerys stop! Aemond, don’t!” Y/N was screaming at them trying to stop the fight, but to no avail. Suddenly a blood curdling scream of agony pierced through the halls. Before she could realize what had happened, Y/N saw the other kids run out. Then she saw, she saw him, her Aemond, laying on the ground, with arm on his left eye, waterfalls of blood pouring between his pale fingers.

Y/N let out a frightened scream as she rushed to him, gently moving his head to her lap.

“Aemond, Aemond, can you hear me? Listen, it’s all going to be alright, I promise” she choked on her tears, weaving her fingertips through his messy silver locks.

-

The following moments went in a blur, next thing she knew, she was standing behind her mother as the kids were throwing accusations at each other in front of the king. Alicent was inconsolable, going from caressing her wounded son to screaming at Rhaenyra and her children, it was like hell broke loose.

“Silence” Viserys at last stood up, making the whole room grow quiet. “Now, may I hear what exactly happened. Y/N, you were the one with Aemond when the guards found you, I want you to tell me the whole truth” he sent a stern look towards his granddaughter.

The little girl slowly stepped out from behind her mother’s skirts. Her face was pale as a ghost, dried up tears covering her cheeks, stains of the prince’s blood still fresh on her white nightgown. Everyone was now looking directly at Y/N, Rhaenyra’s eyes filled with concern, the two frightened boys clutching at her hands, Alicent hardly containing her rage, it almost felt like time had stopped. Then her eyes caught the gaze of Aemond’s remaining one, making her own well up at the sight.

“It was Jace and Lucerys, my brothers. They started it along with my cousins” the girl spat through tears, pointing at the kids “Aemond didn’t say anything to provoke them, they’re lying”

“Liar, she’s a liar” Jace started screaming at his sister “Mother, this is not true, he did call us bastards”

Rhaenyra looked with utter disbelief at her daughter’s face, but before she was able to say anything, Alicent had gotten up, grabbing a dagger.

“What more proof do you need?” she cried, running towards Luke with the weapon in her hand, but was quickly caught by Rhaenyra who leapt in front of her son.

Eventually the fight was put to an end and all were ordered back to their chambers.

Y/N was now sitting on her bed clutching at her blankets trying to erase her memories of the horrendous ordeal that had occurred. The girl was so consumed by those thoughts that she had just noticed that her mother had entered the room. She had an unreadable expression as she slowly approached the bed, holding her bandaged arm.

“How could you? How could you go against your own brothers in front of the king?” she asked, her voice full of disappointment.

“It was their fault. Luke took Aemond’s eye” Y/N sniffed trying not to burst into tears again.

Rhaenyra grabbed at her daughter’s chin, making her meet her gaze. “You siding with that boy almost cost your brother his eye” she hissed “We are a family. Your brothers are your family. Never forget this” she then stood up and left without another word.

-

Y/N had spent the following six years at Dragonstone after her mother’s marriage to Daemon. The girl couldn’t deny that she had rather enjoyed the peace of those years however she so deeply longed to go back to the capital.

-

Her prayers were at last answered as she finally stepped foot in her homelands. Y/N was now a woman grown yet she could still vividly recall her time spent on the castle grounds throughout her childhood. The princess was eagerly following behind her younger brothers as they explored the courtyard that they once used to play in.

However, the sounds of clashing steel immediately had caught the attention of the siblings as they quickly went to follow it.

Y/N couldn’t believe her eyes. It couldn’t have been him. But it was, it was him. Her prince, her Aemond. There was something about the way he was so mercilessly fighting against ser Criston that made her feel intimidated, a dangerous swordsman he had become.

“Nephews, have you come to train?” he at last spoke, pointing his sword at the two boys, no emotion in his words.

“Bōsa jēda daor ūndegon, kēpus” (long time no see, uncle) Y/N smiled confidently as she finally walked out from her spot behind the gate.

Her words made Aemond drop his sword in disbelief and he slowly approached her. There were now mere inches between them as she looked up meeting his gaze. He had changed, yet still possessing this otherworldly beauty she had grown to admire. His face was now chiseled as if carved by the hands of the gods, his silver locks, much longer, reaching the middle of his back and the deep scar still visible under the black leather eyepatch that was covering his left eye, a reminder of the vicious incident. The prince took his time slowly examining her features as if trying to confirm it was really her. He gently picked a lock of her hair, slowly twirling it between his fingers, a devious smirk now playing on his lips. Aemond then suddenly turned around and headed back without saying a word.

-

The king had called for a small feast in honor of his family as they were at last together. Y/N could hardly recognize her grandfather, the magnificent man she remembered from her childhood was now deteriorating before her, half of his stern face, covered by a gold mask, perhaps concealing the damage. He was leaning in his chair, unable to sit properly yet his presence was just as powerful as it once was.

The tension in the room was so present, almost as if you could cut through it with a sword. Y/N’s gaze traveled across the familiar faces around the table, they were her family yet they felt so distant. Then her eyes fell on Aemond, her childhood best friend. She couldn’t catch any hint of emotions in his eye, he was simply sitting with a blank expression, occasionally sipping from his wine. Their last encounter had left the young princess bewildered as he had left without speaking a single word to her. ‘What an arrogant prick has he become’ she thought to herself, angrily bringing the wine cup to her lips.

“Care for a dance, dear niece” she was suddenly brought back from her thoughts by Aegon who was now standing behind her. Seeing that his wife was dancing with Jace, Y/N reluctantly took the older prince’s hand and followed him across the hall.

The girl closed her eyes as she swayed, trying to forget who her partner was as she indulged in the music. A few moments later however, their dance was interrupted by a tap on Aegon’s shoulder and when she looked up before her was standing no other than Aemond, her Aemond. There was a wild look lingering in his eye, could that have been jealousy? She wondered for a second before moving towards his hands, continuing the dance. What she didn’t know however was that throughout her time with Aegon, the one eyed prince hadn’t left her from his sight, feelings he thought he had long forgotten, rushing back.

They didn’t speak the entire time yet they kept their eyes locked at each other’s and for a second Y/N could swear that she had caught a glimpse of the Aemond she remembered and so deeply cared for.

“I missed you” she whispered, almost to herself. His stern expression softened, serving as a proof that he had heard her. This intimate moment however was cut short as the king was being escorted back to his chambers and before she knew it, they were again sitting at the table. Much to her mother and brothers’ displeasure, Y/N was now seated beside Aemond.

Despite Viserys’ departure the feast continued, servants bringing dish after dish.

Luke couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as a large roasted pig was placed in front of his uncle, earning him a warning look from his sister. Y/N then grabbed at Aemond’s hand trying to calm him down but alas, the prince stood up giving a toast to his ‘strong’ nephews. It didn’t take long for a quarrel to erupt, after his insinuations, with Jace punching the prince across his face but before the fight could further escalate, Y/N quickly leapt between her brother and uncle.

“Aemond, don’t, please,that’s enough”

Just as she could never refuse anything to him, so couldn’t he, the prince scoffed and headed out.

Y/N tried to follow after him but was stopped by her mother. “Don’t even consider it” Rhaenyra pulled at her arm “Don’t betray your family once again”

-

It must’ve been past midnight yet sleep wouldn’t come upon Y/N, so instead of forcing it, the young maiden decided to take a stroll across the castle hallways.

Suddenly a strong arm was wrapped around her mouth, pushing her against the nearest wall.

“I missed you too, dear niece” a deep voice whispered in her ear. The only light coming from the moon, shining through the nearby window, illuminating the so familiar smirk spread across the man’s face.

“Aemond?!” the girl exhaled, looking closer at the handsome face of her ‘attacker’. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You never came to visit me after the incident, never even said goodbye” he hissed, hints of sadness in his voice.

“Oh Aemond, you have no idea how hard I tried to, but mother wouldn’t let me, she put guards in front of my chambers” Y/N softened her features, moving her hand to his cheek.

“Don’t go back to Dragonstone, stay” he placed his hand on top of hers.

“Why would I, am I not a bastard too, like my brothers?” she suddenly snapped, reminding him of the prior events.

“Ohh, the fuck with this” he grunted, smashing his lips on top of hers. This action caught Y/N completely by surprise yet it didn’t take long for her to eagerly kiss him back, tangling her fingers in his soft silver locks. This was her Aemond she was kissing, the young boy she had unknowingly fallen for way back when they were kids.

“We were always meant to be together, Y/N” he smirked as they pulled away from the kiss.

-

“Mother, I won’t go back to Dragonstone” she had gone to the godswood to announce her decision to Rhaenyra.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t want to go, I want to stay here” Y/N repeated, trying not to show the trembling in her voice.

“You, you are responsible for this, aren’t you?” Rhaenyra pointed at Aemond who had just approached them. “Haven’t you done enough harm to her!?”

“I simply wish to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage, princess, to strengthen our houses” his infamous smirk, still lingering.

“What makes you think I’ll sacrifice my only daughter to you?” She hissed through gritted teeth.

“Mother, you tried to separate us years ago yet the gods once again brought us together, we were meant to be together” Y/N repeated Aemond’s words from the prior night.

“If that’s your decision, then so be it, I’ll give you my blessing, but remember, once you’ve chosen which side you’re on, there is no going back” Rhaenyra sighed as she left the young couple.

Those words pierced at Y/N’s heart, but she knew she had made the right decision, choosing to marry the one she loved and she was determined to go against anything that would try to separate them.

Tag list:

@ellathefriendlyalpacaaa

@believeinthefireflies95

@caspianobsessed

@hayoooos-blog

@kitkat-writes-stuff

[ilguna]

☼ lovestruck, lovesick, lovelorn pt3 (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; it turns out finnick has a lot of pent up thoughts that he’s having a hard time showing properly. at first, it seems like he can’t get enough time with you, then he begins to retreat back to his original demeanor, the one you know the best.

warnings; swearing, death mention, torture and strangulation mention, prostitution mention.

wc; 4.5k

notes; highly requested!!

part one, part two.

--

While District Thirteen seemed to be perfect by the way it was described to you, it has got to be one of the more frustrating places you’ve had the displeasure of visiting. You understand their concept of total equality to ensure fairness, but with it being taken to this extreme—you’re being driven up a wall.

To start, there’s no such thing as individuality, it’s basically a crime to suggest it. And it’s becoming a difficult pill to swallow with each rejection. You come from a Career district, one that’s known for its diversity. As you were growing up, especially in your teenage years, you were taught how to stick out just enough to make heads turn.

You’ve been using it to your advantage for years now, mainly in the Capitol. You tend to tone it down at home, because there’s no reason to stir the pot and draw attention to yourself when you’d like peace and quiet. It’s almost crazy how quick people jump to conclusions when there’s nothing going on.

It’s almost the same here. With how secluded Thirteen is from the rest of the world, all it took was you and the three other victors arriving for conversation to begin. You can’t remember how many times you were stopped your first time out of the hospital by curious minds.

Anyway, in Thirteen, you’re not allowed to wear anything besides the grey jumpsuit they’ve provided. Unless, of course, you’re a patient in their hospital. Then, you get to wear one of their itchy white gowns you also can’t take off. It took hours of begging the nursing staff for them to finally relent on the rule. And the best they could do for you was the jumpsuit. 

At this point, you’d give anything for a simple outfit. As well as a meal that isn’t pre-portioned based on your age, height, weight and muscle mass. There’s been countless times where you’ve asked Greasy Sae to give you a bigger portion on your tray, only to be told that what you have is what you get.

It doesn’t matter who you talk to, everyone refuses to believe you when you tell them you’re still hungry. They’re so set on trying to take away free will, they forget you’re not used to living this way. It’s not normal to have your entire day’s schedule printed on your forearm for you to follow by the hour. It’s weird.

They didn’t have you start with a schedule as soon as you arrived, though. After being rescued from the Capitol alongside Johanna, Annie and Peeta, you were immediately taken into the care of the hospital. Almost a month later, they still haven’t fully released you from their custody.

It might have something to do with your adjusting period, and the fact they’re comparing you to the other three. With Annie, she was able to communicate they didn’t harm her, so she was given the option to leave the hospital first. As for Johanna, she’s the same person she’s always been, the aggression just threw them off, so they kept her for a week longer than they should’ve.

As for Peeta, he’s on the extreme end. Upon seeing Katniss, he tried to kill her, which put the doctors under the impression that not everything is what they seem. That’s why they insisted on keeping Johanna until Haymitch could confirm that’s just her personality.

When it comes to you, the bright lights of Thirteen’s hospital were almost identical to the ones in the Tribute Center. They had you strapped to a chair underneath a big light in the middle of the room. It was shining directly into your eyes, all hours of the day. The only time you got a break from it was when you’d pass out from the lack of oxygen.

It took some convincing, but eventually the doctors got through to you that you are safe in their care. All lights in your room were promptly changed from white to yellow, and then they were either dimmed heavily or off completely from then on. 

As soon as you started showing signs of normalcy, you were given the option to wander the hospital wing. And when they wanted to start implementing you into their way of life, they tried to give you one of those arm stamps. You followed it for… maybe the first three days before Katniss told you it’s a bunch of bullshit.

You didn’t care for it much after that.

Honestly, that might be one of the main reasons why they continue to keep you in the hospital, instead of moving you to one of their pods, like they did with Finnick and Katniss. Apparently, they were both kept here for a while following the arena rescue. Finnick couldn’t function properly from the shock, so he wasn’t in any shape to be making decisions about his care.

The same goes for Katniss, just worse. Haymitch caught you up on her behavior, because you were curious about how she was compared to Finnick. From the sounds of it, the weight of everything that had happened hit her hard. Including the fact Peeta was no longer around for her to fiercely protect, he was in the hands of the Capitol.

You can’t imagine how painful it was for her to get Peeta back, only for him to be unrecognizable. In the few times you’ve talked to him recently—because he doesn’t have a violent reaction when he sees you—you can tell by the way he holds himself that there is something severely broken in him. 

He does not have the same softness he used to. The Capitol was successful in breaking him. 

Peeta seems to be getting better over time, though. He’s not nearly as violent as he used to be when he talks about Katniss now, but it’s still nowhere near positive. It’s just tolerance. Plutarch has been working over calls with scientists in Three on ways they can reverse the hijacking.

Every time you sit in on a meeting in the Control room, he can’t help himself when he makes jabs at you when it comes to Beetee’s death. As if you were the one that missed blocking the knife, not Finnick. And you don’t say that to blame Finnick, you’re just confused on how that was your mistake, when you couldn’t have helped prevent it.

You never feel the need to defend yourself with Plutarch, he’s not worth your energy, you did everything they asked of you. Besides, if you’re sitting in on a meeting, so is Finnick. He’s jumped to your defense plenty of times, he has no issue shutting down Plutarch when he’s making shit up. 

Speaking of Finnick, it’s a weird adjustment with him, too. If you had told yourself last year that Finnick would be defending you to other people, instead of helping them tear you down, you might’ve peed yourself from laughing so hard. Finnick swore to you, and Mags and everyone else who would listen that he would never change his mind about you. It’s funny how things have worked out.

You’re really glad you two have been able to move on from that point. You’ve known Finnick for a long time—ten whole years. If he hadn’t been so set on making you an enemy after your Games, you’re sure that the two of you would’ve been best friends. It makes you curious on how the Capitol would’ve perceived you in that case, would it have made your situation with Snow worse?

Either way, your feelings about Finnick have been the same for a while, even years before the Quarter Quell. You’ll admit there were times where you lost your patience, and dropped down to his level of disrespect. Which definitely didn’t help with the way he decided to treat you, only justified it.

All it took was Mags telling him the truth about how you’ve allowed the Capitol to treat you, something you confessed to her ages ago. You can still remember the look of horror on her face when you got into the details, and the way it smoothed over when you said you’d made an offer to Snow to take more nights for Finnick. 

Mags was truly a sweetheart. Besides Finnick’s family, she was the only other person who was able to see things correctly. And she was incredibly wise when it came to important secrets. When you told her about the Capitol, you said she could do what she wanted with the information. You assumed she would go and tell Finnick when she got the chance, a part of you had hoped it would shake him.

Nothing came of it, of course, until a couple weeks ago when Finnick told you she’d finally told him your secret. You loathed Mags for at least a week, all you could think was, “A little too late, don’t you think?” But as soon as you had a conversion with Haymitch about it, he reminded you that she did it on purpose. 

Mags waited for the perfect time to tell him, and you suspect it had to be on the night of the interviews, before you all went to bed. It would make him hesitate in the arena, see your opinion from a different angle. It made him trust you, despite the years of hatred that had been leading him prior. 

What really sealed it for him was when you risked your life to make sure his family was safe in the Capitol. Finnick’s told you countless times since you started talking to him, that he’ll never be able to make it up to you. You don’t know how many times you’ve told him that you don’t want him to. 

He’s doing enough now. In fact, he’s doing more than you expected from him. At first, it started with the two of you hanging around each other, going around District Thirteen, getting lunch and dinner together. You thought you’d be friends at most, until the two of you got caught in your feelings.

Johanna’s been making fun of you ever since she found out.

She’s currently laying backward on her hospital bed, using the pillows to keep her legs elevated and feet pressed against the wall. The hospital is beginning to drive her crazy, especially the nurses. It doesn’t help that the doctor she was assigned refuses to discharge her. She’s stuck here, like you.

Johanna’s gently rubbing her head, a habit she picked up recently. It’s not that she necessarily misses her hair, she just claims that it helps her think. She hasn’t been talking as much as she first did when you got here. It’s probably because she was able to get all of her thoughts out when she was talking to you while you were unable to respond. Everything she had kept bottled inside was let out over the course of three weeks.

It was actually fairly interesting to get inside of her head. She has good advice when it’s not clouded by anger. You’ve been meaning to ask her some questions, regarding Finnick. You’ve already picked the brains of Katniss and Haymitch, and they gave you answers that weren’t exactly thrilling to hear.

Lately, Finnick hasn’t been acting like the person he’s grown to be in Thirteen. In fact, he’s starting to revert back to how he used to be. The mean, distrustful man that could barely stand your presence in a room. But he’s inconsistent about it. Sometimes he’ll brush you off and make snide remarks, and others he’ll be kind and loving.

Haymitch wasn’t helpful, asking you if you were sure he wasn’t getting closer to Annie, like he’d been before the Quarter Quell. You told him that it couldn’t be possible because Finnick has never had feelings for Annie. It has something to do with the fact that she was too focused on her health to consider a relationship with anybody. Let alone Finnick, who had a number of problems from the Capitol. Not to mention, her parents are strict about her life.

Annie is out of the question.

Katniss had a better idea, mostly because she’s going through a similar situation with Peeta right now.  She suggested that Finnick could be acting like that because he’s confused. He had a wave of euphoria when he saw you were okay, after sacrificing so much for him. He’s been given the opportunity to make things right, but now he’s confused because he’s not used to these types of feelings about you.

This could be why he’s acting out.

The only other person you want to hear from right now is Johanna. Finnick still talks to her as much as she talks to you, which is almost all hours of the day. You’re hoping he’s said something to her recently that might give you an idea of what’s going on in his head. Or even the answer entirely.

“Hey, Johanna?” You ask.

She hums, hand pausing. “(Y/n), if you try talking to me about breaking out of this place again, you better fall through with the plan this time.”

You roll your eyes. “In my defense, I asked Coin to clear us to go outside, but she said that only Katniss and Gale are allowed to go. They hunt.”

“Sure they do. I bet they think of ways to escape, too.”

“It’s Katniss.” You agree, playing with your shoe on the floor. 

Thirteen’s shoes are unsurprisingly uncomfortable. If it were allowed, you’d walk around in your socks. You tried once, and then you got sent back to the hospital to get them. You were escorted the entire way here to make sure you wouldn’t disobey. 

“What’s your question?” Johanna asks.

You press your lips together briefly. “Have you noticed that Finnick’s acting kinda weird lately?”

Johanna doesn’t move for a second. “Weird how?”

“I mean, he’s not acting like he normally does. I think…” Your face screws. “I think he’s going back to how he used to treat me.” You look up to see her. “Has he talked to you about how he feels at all?”

Johanna doesn’t respond, so you take this as her thinking.

“If it helps, Katniss said it could be because he’s confused.” You offer, shrugging. “Haymitch said it was Annie, but that can’t be true, right?”

She looks impressed, rubs her head once or twice, and then turns to look at you. “Of course brainless is smarter than the drunk.”

“Katniss is right?” You ask.

Johanna sighs, “No, she didn’t get it exactly.” She rolls her eyes. “Listen, I told Finnick that he’s being stupid about this, but he didn’t care. He’s caught up in his head.”

“What are you talking about?”

“(Y/n), he’s told me that he doesn’t think he deserves you after the way he treated you. He said that it’s clear that you’re the better person, and he’s nothing but an asshole.” She shakes her head. “He wants to end things with you.”

“What?” You ask, getting to your feet. “When did he tell you this?”

“Last week, I think.” Johanna stares blankly at the ceiling.

“Why didn’t you tell me? We see each other every day.”

“I thought he wasn’t going through with it. If he did, you’d bring it up to me.” She makes a face. “I’ve been trying to tell him to knock it off.”

“Johanna, what did he say exactly?” You sit back down on the stool, trying to calm down.

She sighs, closing her eyes. “He said it had something to do with your generosity. You know, the whole Capitol thing. He’s hearing a lot of good things about you from Haymitch, and I think that’s freaking him out.” She starts to pick at one of the scabs she refuses to let heal. “I think he said that he didn’t understand the way you worked, and now he feels stupid about it.”

“The way I worked?”

“Like your ulterior motives.” She explains. “How you do one thing and it benefits you later on, but it looks bad from the outside. Finnick said that you have a heart of gold and it took you getting tortured for him to feel that way. He feels selfish.”

Your eyes dart to the clock, wondering what time it is. The hospital’s curfew will go into effect in a couple of hours. They don’t like it when their patients are out past a certain time, they have a routine when it comes to gathering vitals.

“I’ve got to go.” You say suddenly, bending down to pull your shoes on.

“Where?” Johanna asks, twisting to sit up.

“I need to talk to Finnick, now.” You tell her, standing up. “I’ll see you later.”

You leave her room before she can stop you. You’re a few steps down the hall when you hear the automatic door swish shut. Finnick could be anywhere in the bunker, but he’s been hanging out in the Control Room a lot recently.

You go there first. Down the hospital hall, up six floors on the elevator, down a muggy hallway and up to the door. When you knock, no one answers. It isn’t until you’re pounding on the door, does it swing open, to a very irritated President Coin.

“Can I help you, miss (L/n)?” She asks, eyebrows turn down. “We’re in the middle of a meeting.”

“Is Finnick inside?” You ask. “It’s urgent.”

“No, I have not seen him. Try Heavensbee.” She goes to swing the door shut.

You place your foot in the crack before she can shut it entirely, and regret it almost instantly from how hard she was going to slam the door. Coin opens the door wider, lips pressed together.

“Where would I find him?” You ask.

“The basement. He was working in the weapons shop.”

She then kicks your foot out of the way, pulling the door shut. You roll your eyes at her behavior, she hasn’t been the kindest person to you since you arrived. You think Plutarch’s convinced her it’s your fault Beetee’s dead. One day you’ll give him a piece of your mind, but today won’t be it.

You leave the hallway, finding the elevator again. It’s old, which means it moves slowly. It takes almost fifteen minutes for it to go all the way down to the basement, because of the other people getting on and off. 

By the time you get there, Plutarch’s locking the doors. “Have you seen Finnick?”

He looks over his shoulder to see it’s you, and then goes back to fixing the lock. “I haven’t. I’ve been on a call with a scientist for the past hour working on weapon plans because we don’t have any experts here.”

You suck in a breath, reminding yourself not to react. “Do you have any idea who might’ve seen him? It’s important.”

“Did you try Haymitch?” He suggests lamely.

“Where would he be?” 

“The rehabilitation center. Where else?” He shakes his head.

You don’t say anything back to him, because all responses would be rude. You leave him there, heading back to the elevator. By the time you get it programmed for the rehab center, Plutarch is in sight. He holds out his hand to tell you to stop, but you press the button while looking away, pretending as if you didn’t see him. 

Maybe he should be nicer to you.

The rehab center is closer, and their curfew is stricter. If Finnick is here, then he’s only in the visiting area. It’s a shame that Haymitch is still required to stay here instead of a pod, but he really pissed off Coin. He was joking about smuggling alcohol from Greasy Sae, and she was having none of it.

When the elevator stops, you program it to go up a few floors before being allowed to go back down. Anything you can do to inconvenience Plutarch. When you get inside of the center, they have you sign a sheet, and then they put you in the waiting room while they call out the person. As soon as they have you sit down, you know Finnick isn’t here, either, because they would’ve just directed you to the visiting area.

Haymitch comes out, as messy looking as ever, with a beanie pulled to his eyebrows. “Hey, kid. Curfew’s soon.”

“I know. Hey, has Finnick been here?”

He shakes his head. “Peeta’s a good guess. Finnick’s been trying to do exposure therapy.”

“At the hospital?” You ask. “I would’ve seen him.”

Haymitch blows air out from his cheeks. “Katniss?”

“That’s a better idea.” You nod, “I should’ve tried her first instead of Coin. I’m sorry I can’t stay, the hospital’s curfew is in an hour.”

Haymitch waves his hand. “Good luck.”

You wave, leaving out the waiting room door. The lady at the office bids you a goodnight, and then promptly shuts off the office lights. There’s a click that fills the air from the locking system, making you let out a quiet laugh. What a passive-aggressive way to tell you that you were overstaying your welcome. 

On the elevator again, you take it up to where Katniss’s pod should be with her family. Just her, her mom, Primrose and their cat. When you get there, you knock on the door. It’s only a second before Katniss’s mother opens it with a warm smile. 

“Oh, hello (Y/n).”

“Hi.” You smile, “Is Katniss here?”

“No, I believe she’s down in the cafeteria with Gale and Finnick.” 

You hum, eyebrows drawing together. “Thank you.” You begin to back away. “Have a good night.”

“Is there a message you’d like to leave?”

“No, I’m actually looking for Finnick.” You shrug. 

She nods. “Have a good night.”

The door shuts, you turn around and get back to the elevator, where you’re forced to wait twenty minutes. The clock on the wall isn’t helping the rising anxiety in your stomach, you’ve only got enough time to check the cafeteria before you have to get back to the hospital. He better be down there. 

You guess you could try again tomorrow, but you want to have a conversation tonight. The longer you wait, the more it settles into his head. What if he spends the entire day dodging you?

The elevator arrives full of residents trying to get back home. You step on, and being the only one inside, you’re able to head straight down without any disruptions. It’s a quick trip down, but you have to go down the hallway to even get to the cafeteria. 

You push the swinging door open with your hip. The room is illuminated by the few tv’s on the pillars, they’re stuck on the Capitol logo. In the daytime, Thirteen usually will let the Capitol broadcasts play. The people here see them as a comedy.

Sure enough, Katniss and Gale are inside, and they turn at the sound of the door. There is no Finnick in sight, but that doesn’t mean he’s not nearby. 

“Hey, (Y/n).” Katniss adjusts her body to turn halfway so she doesn’t have to crane her neck. “Looking for Finnick?”

“Yes, actually.” You nod. “Have you seen him recently?”

“He just left and took the stairs up to the hospital to talk to Johanna before the curfew set.” 

Your face twists. “Johanna?”

“If you take the elevator, you might be able to catch him.” She says.

“Right.” You agree, “Sorry for interrupting.”

Gale opens his mouth, Katniss speaks first. “It wasn’t even important. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” You wave, leaving the doorway.

You jog back down the hall to get to the elevator quicker. As soon as you press the button, the doors peel apart, allowing you to get inside. You’re briefly hopeful this trip won’t take longer than a minute, except you run into the same problem as earlier, with people stepping on with every passing floor.

By the time you get to the hospital, it’s past curfew. Finnick always leaves on time.

A wild goose chase for nothing. It’s like Finnick knew you were coming, so he avoided you at all costs. You don’t want to go back to how things used to be between you two. It was painful, knowing there was nothing you could do to fix it. You just had to let it go, like you will now. Except, you’re stuck in this stupid bunker with him, meaning you’ll never get away. 

Tears appear in your eyes. You suck in a breath, holding it, tilting your head back to force the tears back to where they came. It doesn’t work, they slide down the sides of your eyes, traveling down your cheeks.

You let out the breath, and take in a shaky one. It isn’t long before the crying starts. You have to stop in the hallway before you enter the hospital wing, because if they see you upset, they’re going to put you on medical lockdown. This thought alone increases the hysteria.

You slide down the concrete wall, burying your face in your hands while you cry. Ten years you’ve waited just to be his friend, and he’s going to take it all away on the thought he’s not a good person? When it’s clearly not true? He’s sacrificed just as much as you have to get here.

You’ve told him this. Why won’t he listen?

“(Y/n)?” You whip your head up to see Finnick, a frown on his face. “Oh, honey.”

“You—” The word is strangled as another sob overcomes you at the sight of him, finally.

Finnick rushes over, coming to a crouch in front of you. You jerk forward, throwing your arms around him for a hug, squeezing him tightly. Finnick pulls you closer, placing a hand on the back of your head to keep your face in his chest.

“I’m so sorry.” He murmurs, shushing you gently. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not!” You protest through your tears. “You want to leave me!”

He doesn’t say anything, his grip only tightens.

“Finnick, I don’t care. I don’t care that you were mean to me in the past, because it didn’t bother me. I wouldn’t be talking to you if I didn’t want to be with you. How could you have known better if no one told you? It’s not your fault.”

“I should’ve seen the signs. If I had gotten to know you better, maybe I would’ve realized. I was so mean to you.”

“We were mean to each other.” You tell him, playing with his hair. “We did good things on our own time. You’re a good person, Finnick. You’re not bad for what’s happened between us in the past.”

You push him away from you to see his face, finding tears in his own eyes. You cup each side of his face, pulling him to your lips. Finnick’s hand slides its way to the back of your neck, holding you against him for a few seconds longer.

When you pull back, you wipe a tear from beneath his eye. “Let’s just focus on us right now, okay?”

“Okay.”

[rochenn]

really intrigued the theoretical possibilities of "gay sit" but too rabid over your dooku not to ask about "dooku x2"

YESSS thank you!!

that's the file name of a fic called "matters of consequence" in which dooku, sometime after qui-gon's knighting, time travels forward into the clone wars, meaning that he now exists in a reality where can look his old corrupted self in the eye and also be absolutely crushed by the things he will do/has already done.

he also gets to hang out with his lineage and crawl through trenches. good times all around!

snippet of the opening chapter under the cut ->

———

Feeling lost was a curious thing.

It wasn't a state of being Dooku had often been confronted with in his forty-odd years of life. Ire, pride, ambition: those were feelings he could process, coming to him as easily as they were dismissed again.

The clink of crude pottery—a clay cup he had known since childhood—mixed with the rattle of high-security handcuffs. The cup's contents warmed his palms, the hassock beneath him soft just like his memory of it. The cuffs, however, weighed heavier than they looked. He pretended they didn't chafe his pride more than his wrists when he drank from the cup, in part to find comfort in a familiar taste, but mostly to hide. Control eluded him.

"I recall, Master," he finally managed, "one of the first things you taught me being that it is rude to stare." His voice came out terse, and it was justified. He glared pointedly into the empty space between Yoda and Mace who had both been silently regarding him for minutes that stretched like hours. He didn't care to admit how much it unnerved him.

"You didn't resist." Mace made no pretense of acknowledging his words. "Why?"

Dooku swallowed a grimace and took another sip, unable to savor the tea's candid sweetness as the Force stretched taut and wary through the room. Light fell past half-shut blinds and painted glowing bars onto the walls, as though sun itself were inclined towards horrible metaphors. This, he was certain, was an interrogation.

"Why?" Indignation, too, came to him easily. "Why is it that when I walk these halls, you pull me away," like he wasn't supposed to be there, "you practically arrest me," like some sort of criminal, and he let the cuffs rattle for emphasis, "and subsequently lock me in this chamber for no apparent reason whatsoever?"

This was all a dream, he figured. It had to be. Mace and Yoda had aged by decades. The Force's river ran polluted and vile here, nearly unrecognizable.

"Again," Mace said, and his old face was hewn from stone, "are you aware of who you are?"

"I have answered this question more than once. I cannot fathom why you should ask at all."

A wisp of Yoda's misty aura brushed against his own and Dooku had to keep himself from reaching for it. Instead, he telegraphed his displeasure through their mangled bond. If his old Master wanted to reassure him, he could well enough open his mouth to do so.