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eatmeandbirthmeagain · 4 months

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Hello! Hope you’re well. I’d like to put in a request for King Baldwin x reader where they were put into an arranged marriage and reader is very shy and the two haven’t had the time to spend time together and get to know each other at all. One day Baldwin invites her to his room and teaches her how to play chess while getting to know each other.

♡ Arranged Marriage - King Baldwin x Reader ♡

♡ Fluff ♡

A/N: Hello Anon! Thank you for this beautiful request. I had fun writing this, it is a very sweet idea. I hope it is what you had in mind. As always, this is about the King Baldwin from the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figgure. Enjoy!

TW: Leprosy

The evening of the wedding was fast approaching. With each day it drew closer, y/n became more and more nervous. She did not even know the name of the man she was to be wed to. She knew that he was the king of Jerusalem, but Jerusalem was a very distant place from where she had lived her entire life. She had never before seen the Holy land and she never believed she would.

It was her father who arranged the marriage with the king's mother. It was the price she paid for being the daughter of a rich lord. She wondered if her soon to be husband was as nervous as she, was but she came to the conclusion that he was more likely to just want this to be over and done with.

But this was not the case. Baldwin was equally as nervous to meet his soon to be wife, but with more of a feeling of enthusiasm than fear. He was looking forward to the day of the wedding and enjoyed making the arrangements greatly.

At the age of 22 he had never in his life even felt the touch woman, aside from his mother and sister, and even then it was not the warm, loving touch of a wife that he so craved.

However, he did have some doubts on her willingness to be with a leper. He had overheard some servants speaking about how “she must be out of her mind to marry a man with such a disease”. This thought was the only thing troubling him about the affair. He knew he did not have much time left in his life and if this marriage worked out as he had hoped, he would be leaving behind his lovely wife all too soon.

On the day of the wedding, y/n and her father, accompanied by the guests, arrived to the city of Jerusalem bright and early to begin the preparations. Y/n felt sick with worry. A thousand questions ran through her mind. “What if he doesn't like me?”, “what if i am unable to bare him a rightful air to the throne?”, "what if I accadently offend him?".

She barely spoke all day. Simply hiding behind her veil to avoid interaction. When the hour of the wedding came, Baldwin was as nervous as he was excited. He was finding it difficult to contain his delight and was grateful for the iron mask that concealed his constant smile.

Y/n on the other hand was terrified. Her hands were shaking and sweat had begun to form on her brow. She quickly reached under her veil with a cloth to wipe her face. She needed to relax, but she couldn't.

It was time. The guests entered the church and the wedding began. As y/n approached the altar, her vision was so blurry that she could barely see her new husband. But as she got closer, she could make out his features a bit more. He wore white robes with gold trimming, and he appeared to be wearing a mask? One of his hands was bandaged and the other was in a glove.

She had been warned of his leprosy but never saw an issue in his possible appearance, nor contracting the disease. More that they may not have many years together, so where would she end up when he was gone? She pushed this out of her mind and continued walking. She avoided eye contact with him as the officials proceeded, and before she even knew it, it was over.

By the end of the proceedings, Baldwin himself was exhausted. The long period of standing had been very hard on his body, but he wanted to meet with his new wife desperately.

She was so beautiful. Seeing her at the wedding took his breath away more than he thought it would. He could never have imagined that someone so gorgeous could agree to marry him. She looked like an angel. He longed to see her. Hear her speak, learn all there was to learn about her.

But he was far too tired. He cursed his frail body for being so weak. Once his physicians had finished their work, changing his bandages and cleaning his wounds, he climbed into his bed slowly. He removed his mask, finally being able to breathe somewhat clearly.

Closing his eyes, all he could see was her beautiful face. It warmed his heart knowing that she was in the same building as him and that tomorrow, he could finally see her. He fell asleep quickly that night.

Y/n however, was far less relaxed than he was. Her nerves had been calmed from the conclusion of the ceremonies, but they pricked back up again when she realized that tomorrow, she would need to speak with him. Perhaps she could avoid it? Tell the servants that she had fallen ill and would not be in a fit state to meet with the king for fear of getting him sicker than he already was? That would set her back a few days at least and give her time to prepare.

She decided that it would be the best action to take to prevent her from embarrassing herself. She had always been a shy person when around people she was not well acquainted with. She hoped that this anxiety would fade the more time she spent with her new husband. But for now, she would inform the servants that she had fallen ill. She hoped he would not become angry with her for this.

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

The following day, Baldwin received the news that y/n would not be meeting with him due to illness. He was disappointed, yes. But angry? Not at all.

At first, he worried about her health and prayed that she would make a full recovery, but as the day wore on he became even more worried that she was fabricating an excuse to not see him. This saddened him greatly. He began to doubt that she would in fact stay with someone as grotesque as him. Perhaps he had done something wrong? Maybe she was afraid of contracting leprosy?

He spent the entire day in his chambers thinking about this. It was evening when he finally decided to write her a letter. If she couldn't see him, then maybe they could exchange letters until she was healed?

The young king sat down at his desk, quill in hand, but he could not think of what to say. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was and how much he was looking forward to spending his days with her, but he did not want to come across as too excited. He thought best to keep it simple, but he couldn't. Because she was not simple. She was as beautiful as the summer sky, he could not just exchange simple greetings with her. He needed to cherish her right away.

Finally, he found the words. He invited her to his chambers for a game of chess when she was well enough to do so. He apologized for not being able to see her after the wedding due to his exhaustion. And finally, he told her how blessed he felt to have someone like her as his wife. He requested that the letter be given to her right away so that she saw it as soon as possible.

When y/n received the letter, a feeling of relief and guilt washed over her. She was relieved that he was not angry with her and was in fact was looking forward to seeing her. This however made her feel even worse for lying about the reason she could not to speak with him.

She decided the following day that she would see him, no matter what.

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

The next day, y/n did infact feel sick. Truely this time. But not sick from an illness, sick from worry. She was so nervous, nothing could relax her. She had been given directions by a few servant women who had come by in the morning to check on her.

She followed the directions she had been told until she reached the large wooden doors. Y/n took a few seconds to collect herself and attempt to steady her breathing before she extended a trembling hand to knock. She waited a few seconds and was fully prepared to turn around and leave before a voice inside called for her to come in.

Y/n took another deep breath and pushed open the door, just enough for her to slip through and shut it behind her quickly. Inside the room was a desk, a large bookshelf, a couch and a large open door that led out to a balcony.

The king sat at the desk but immediately got to his feet when she entered the room. Y/n bowed her head “good morning your majesty” she said in a small voice, just like she practiced.

“Good morning my queen” he replied, approaching her slowly. Y/n was taken aback by just how attractive he really was. She had not gotten the chance to look at him properly while at the wedding, but he was beautiful. Even though she could not see his face on account of the mask, his bright blue eyes were enough to steal her attention quickly. He wore white robes, less extravagant than the ones he wore yesterday but still as lovely. The veil that he wore to conceal his head framed his masked face just right. She was lost for words.

“I apologize for my absence yesterday” y/n finally managed to say. “It's quite alright, we have the entire day to make up for lost time” he said cheerfully. “I have been looking forward to this day for many months now. You are even more beautiful than I could have ever imagined y/n” he was now only feet from her.

A small smile formed on her face and she looked down to avoid him seeing her blush like a teenage girl with a crush. That's what she felt like at that moment. He extended his good hand, covered with a white glove, and put it against her cheek, tilting her head up to look at her. His kind, blue eyes met hers. "There is no need to be shy my queen. I am yours, just as you are mine"

Y/n chuckled softly, her anxieties melting away. “Yes, I suppose you are right,” she replied. Baldwin took his hand from her cheek and reached for her hand, taking it in his. “Shall we play that game of chess I promised?” he offered. “I would love to, but i've never played before” she chuckled nervously.

“That's just fine, i will teach you”

“That sounds lovely” y/n replied, eyes never once leaving his.

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

The two spent the entire day together, playing chess and getting to know each other. By the end of the day, the young king was completely in love. She was as intelligent as she was beautiful, and kind as well. So kind. Y/n loved him also. All of her concerns faded and she was left with nothing more than the desire to be with this man forever.

As the sun got low in the sky, the two were growing tired. They had enjoyed a lovely dinner together on the royal balcony and were now sitting on the couch in Baldwin's bedroom chambers, talking about all manner of things.

The king was deep in explaining his family lineage when he paused to cover a soft yawn behind his masked face. “Oh i'm so sorry your majesty, i must be keeping you awake” y/n said, placing a hand on his arm. “I can leave if you would like?” she added. “Oh no I am quite alright. Just a bit tired, I was actually meaning to ask you if you would like to stay in my chambers for the night?-” Baldwin immediately regretted what he said. He did not want to come across too pushy, but he had just put out a massive question that he was unsure of how she would answer. "If you would prefer not to its quite alright, i understand-” Baldwin added quickly, but y/n cut him off. “I would love to” she said with a smile. Relief washed over him instantly and he released a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

After getting changed from their day clothes, the two got into the kings large bed. Now it was Baldwin's turn to be nervous. He had never shared a bed with anyone before, much less a woman. Y/n noticed this immediately. She laid down on her back and extended an arm out, gesturing for him to come closer. He smiled behind the mask and moved closer, resting his head on her soft chest. She wrapped an arm around his back, rubbing soothing circles with her thumb. She was so warm and geltle. It was the feeling he had craved his whole life, and now, it was happening. He felt as if he could fall asleep right there and then, wrapped up in her arms. “Are you going to sleep with that mask on?” y/n said quietly, breaking the silence. Baldwin sighed. “I just don't want to startle you with my appearance” he sounded so sad. Her heart broke for him. “I know you are beautiful, my sweet husband. Your face will not bother me. I promise”

“Are you sure?” he replied, sitting up slightly to look at her.

“Yes my love”

He sighed again, hesitating before reaching up to the corners of the mask and sliding it from his face. His face was disfigured, yes, but ugly? Not at all.

Y/n smiled softly. She sat up and reached a hand out to stroke his cheek gently, just like he had done to her upon their first meeting. “You see? You are still my beautiful husband. Nothing will change that. As you said, I am yours as much as you are mine”.

The king felt tears sting his eyes, he turned to place his mask on the nightstand and put out the candle. He then turned over again and cuddled against her warm chest. “Thank you. I love you, y/n” he murmured. A small smile crossed her face. “I love you too, Baldwin".

#kingdom of heaven fandom #king baldwin iv #baldwin iv #king baldwin x reader #the leper king #king baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin x you #king baldwin iv x oc #kingdom of heaven 2005 #kingdom of heaven #king baldwin #kingbaldwin

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gortash-did-nothing-wrong · 3 months

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Feral 3

Minors Do Not Interact!!!

Warnings: pregnancy, violence, murder (but it's the Baron so yay), mentions of the Baron being a pedo, mentions of Feyd being a victim of the Barons.

Feyd had a new issue with Friz. Ever since he had begun helping Y/N with the little beast, holding him securely while Y/N clipped his nails, frimmed the fur around his paws and butt, and held him in the bath water while Y/N scrubbed the filth and loose hair off of him, the shedding had become so much less of an issue. Feyd had even found a setting on the shower head that Friz actually enjoyed against his throat. With a lot of patience, an absurd amount of chicken liver treats, and many close calls by cat claws, Friz was… somewhat tamed. The cat didn't like getting his nails trimmed, of course, but Feyd and Friz has come to an understanding. Feyd trimmed exactly one of his claws every day, and Friz got a freshly fried chicken liver with catnip sprinkles for his troubles.

Y/N had been shocked at the improvement in her pet. "I thought he was too old to be tamed properly." She admitted.

"How old is he, exactly?" Feyd asked.

"About sixteen." She said. "I got him when he was a feral kitten, I was about five. He was passed being bottle fed, so he didn't bond with me right away. It took weeks of work for him to even eat in front of me."

Feyd hummed to himself, wondering why anyone would even put that amount of time into a cat.

"Oh, by the way, I saw the doctor today." Y/N said casually. "He ran some tests, and it turns out I'm pregnant."

Feyd felt his face go blank. "What?"

--------

Y/N's pregnancy was… rough. Her cravings were for fresh fruit and cheese, things they didn't get often on Giedi Prime. Meat made her nauseous, something his uncle made constant jokes about. The bastard even hinted that Feyd's child might come out anemic and weak.

Ah, right, speaking of his uncle. Obviously the second Feyd realized his wife was pregnant, Vladimir couldn't go on living. Other than the fact Feyd hated the man, his baby might be a boy. And the idea of the Baron being on the same planet as a son of Feyd's, with his disgusting appetite for young boys was unacceptable. The Baron had a rather unfortunate accident. His normal nightly routine of smoking spice and soaking in his tub took a rather unfortunate turn. He indulged a tad bit too much, got a bit too dizzy, and drowned in his tub. The old man's body was so large it took a half dozen slaves to pull him out of the tub, even after it was drained.

Feyd inherited the throne, and life went on. Y/N looked practically ethereal with a baby bump and a crown on her head as she sat on her throne beside Feyd. The crown was only for the initial ceremony of course, neither of them could be bothered with dressing in ceremonial clothing every day.

Especially Y/N. Her pregnancy seemed to get rougher by the day. Morning sickness from the earlier months turned into near constant aches and pains in her back and legs. Feyd wasn't sure how women without servants survived their pregnancies. Who helped them tie their shoes? Their husbands? They must. Y/N's feet swelled so much, most days she didn't even bother with shoes. He came back to their newly renovated quarters (because even if Feyd wanted the bigger set of rooms his uncle had left behind after his death, he certainly didn't want any of the man's stench hanging around. Feyd had the place gutted and new floors and walls installed. Y/N had picked out the paint, of course.) to find her sitting on the couch with her feet propped up on an ottoman. Feyd tried to comfort her as best he could, but other than having the servants draw her a bath or bring in a foot tub for her feet to soak, there wasn't much to be done.

Thankfully she just seemed to want him to be close to her. And by the stars did he want to be right next to her all the time. His hand seemed to be permanently fixed to her belly, and he'd grin excitedly anytime he felt a kick from his son. Yes, his son. The doctor had confirmed it, and Feyd was both delighted and devastated. He had secretly hoped for a girl out of some misguided belief that it would be easier. Some vague idea that if his child was a girl then he wouldn't see himself reflected in her as much. So he wouldn't have some happier version of himself taunting him about what his childhood could have been.

But when he truly sat down to think about raising his son, Feyd found the idea soothing. No one would rip his son from Y/N's arms and take them away to a house of horrors. No one would mistreat him the way Feyd had been mistreated. His son would never doubt he was loved and cared for.

Y/N had commented on it over snacks one night. Nightly snacks might be his favorite part of pregnancy if he was being honest. Y/N always seemed to have a plate of something nearby and he was always offered some.

"I think it will be healing for you." She said, munching on a few strawberries. "Raising a little mini you, with all your mannerisms. And those beautiful eyes of yours."

Feyd chuckled, his face pressed against her belly as he felt his son kicking at his face. "He has strength, that's for sure. His kicks are getting stronger every day."

"Painful, too." Y/N said, wincing after a particularly strong kick from her baby.

Feyd turned back to her belly, patting it gently. "Easy now, my boy. Don't bother your mother so. She deserves rest after a long day of making you."

A little paw swatted at his nose. Ah. Right. His new problem. Friz stared at Feyd until Feyd sat up, removing himself from Y/Ns belly. The cat immediately started his nightly routine of massaging Y/Ns belly with his little paws, kneading at the baby bump for a few minutes before curling up and purring on it.

Y/N smiled, "It's like he's trying to keep them warm."

"We have blankets." Feyd said dryly, unhappy to have been chased from his wife's belly by a cat.

"It's instinct to him." His wife said, trying to soothe him by taking his face in her hands and peppering little kisses all over his cheeks. "Now, have a snack and tell me about your day."

Feyd took the bowl of strawberries from her, laying back against the headboard and sighing. "I've had such a day."

#feyd rautha #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #dad feyd #feyd rautha harkonnen imagine #feyd rautha imagine #the baron dies #good

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averillaratargaryen · 7 days

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“A Better Man.”

Chapter IV

The room was dark, only the faint glow of the moon filtering through the curtains, casting long, eerie shadows across the walls.

Averillara jolted awake, her heart pounding, the remnants of a nightmare clinging to her like a suffocating fog.

Her breath came in shallow gasps as she tried to shake off the vivid images of the dream—chaotic flashes of something chasing her, its twisted face inches from hers.

As she sat up, straining to steady herself, a soft, unfamiliar noise. Murmuring coming from the foot of her bed.

The figure that was sat there caused her to shriek, as she curled her legs back to her, hiding her feet under the blanket.

“Who-? Who are you?” She stuttered from shock, when she found a strange man sat beside where her feet once were.

“I do not share information without a price” He whispered, eerly.

Averillara looked at him, distraught and confused.

“Get out!” She shouted, pointing to the door.

Yet he not budge nor move away from her. He sat there, confidently, with a smug smile on his face.

“It is important to care.. for one’s needs” his hand grasped her ankle, as they slid under her blanket.

Causing her to slap him harshly against his cheek.

Pulling her foot away, Averillara had stood up, from the opposite side to where this man was stood, ready to leave her bed chamber, as it seemed.

“Do not leave” He spoke, in a whisper that caused Averillara to shiver, “I pose no threat to you.”

“Pose no threat?” Averillara looked at him in disgust, as she scoffed, watching him force himself up as he held onto his cane.

“You have come into my bedchamber throughout the middle of the night, and to touch me inappropriately-!” She stopped herself from raising her voice.

Having no idea who he was. Not remembering him, or his name, or what he stood for.

“You must trust me. I mean you no harm” he spoke softly.

Her aura entirely, Averillara found creepy.

She made her way to her bed chamber door, grabbing a hold of the knob before finding his hand squeeze ontop of her.

Averillara looked towards him, seeing how his eyes immediately drew down to her bare feet.

She took a step back, her feet then hiding beneath her gown, watching his eyes then linger back up to her face.

“You are sick” she whispered, looking at him in disgust, realising his intentions being entirely impure.

As if she was no child, compared to him.

Averillara’s eyes soften, as worry takes over her, when he looks down at his their hands, his fingers slowly uncurled off her, as her trembling hand became released.

Her eyes searching his entire self, wondering what it is he wanted from her, or why he acted so strangely.

Yet her softness was quick to dismay, when she found her throat caught in the grip of his hand.

She gasped, already feeling a tightness to her throat, as he held onto it tightly.

His anger releasing into his grip.

“I am the Queen’s trusted servant. And you dare call me sick?” He looked at her with a smirk, “your father is right. You are your mother’s daughter indeed.”

He lifts her head up, his hand moving slightly up, yet still holding onto her throat.

Averillara hit his arm, trying her best to push him away, but with no strength in her upper body, at this moment, failed to do so.

Watching him chuckle.

Her eyebrows furrowed, as she felt herself almost pass out, herself becoming paler by the minute, as he continued to take out every bit of air she had left.

Until her eyes searched and realised, he had only his cane to hold onto.

His weakness, is what she found.

With a quick thought in mind, Averillara lifted her foot, as she kicked his cane down, watching him fall along with it, his hand slowly slipping of from her neck, his grip loosening.

Averillara coughs repeatedly, patting her chest calmly, as she tries to find a breath to catch.

It was heaved, and she felt dizzy, as she looked around.

And then looked down, to see him look up at her.

Still smug.

Averillara had no choice, as she swung the door open, and forced herself out.

She pushed herself forward, opposite her as she rested her body against the wall, breathing heavily, and impatiently.

Watching her bed chamber door creek open, as he helps himself out.

Averillara began to walk off, in fastened steps, almost tripping as she walked side to side, having no grip or awareness to her surroundings.

“M-mother” she called out, a tear dripping from one eye as she felt herself wishing to collapse at any moment.

As she turned her head, she noticed him continuing to follow her, from down the steps, across to the other side, and back up.

It was never ending, as Averillara walked from room to room, wishing to find her mother, Rhaenyra, at this moment.

Yet her mind was so unfocused, she had not realised where she was.

Until she felt herself hit someone, her body against there’s.

Looking back, breathing heavily, she notices that he was continuing to follow her.

Averillara looked back to who was in front of her, and there her eyes met, with his dark ones.

“Aegon” she whispered desperately.

“What are you doing out here, late at night?” Aegon whispered back, before smirking, “looking for me?”

“Help me” she sobbed, her eyes fluttering before she found her head rested against his chest.

His smirk faded, as he tilted his head down at her, “Averillara?”

Yet she did not respond.

He pulls her back, yet her body had no grip. As though she were jelly-like.

“I-? Averillara?” He calls out again, now becoming concerned when she did not respond.

Her eyes closing slowly.

Aegon held her face, before lifting her up by her chin, noticing redness stained against her neck.

As he looks up, he finds the culprit, who stood frozen, as he looked back at him.

“Larys?” Aegon spoke.

“I can explain” Larys spoke out.

He looked back down, in much horror, when his next thought was to act.

“Get me a maester” Aegon then lifted her up, now having her body laying on her arms.

“What?” Larys looks at him confused, wondering why he did not have anything else to say.

What was his need to be so calm of this.

“Get me a maester. Now!” Aegon ordered.

Larys nods, turning around as he walks away.

Aegon looks down, seeing Averillara’s head dropped back, in his arms.

Her passing out, came with a very clear reason.

There was not going to be a peaceful outcome to this.

“Where is she?” Jace ran in, to find his sister, laid on Aegon’s bed.

Jace then turns, to see Aegon looking distraught, as he watched Averillara.

“You” Jace was quick to accuse him, as he came for him, holding him from his collars, “you did this to her!”

“Jace!” Rhaenyra pulled Jace away, Alicent almost daring to push him, yet Aegon moved her away, assuring her that he was okay.

“You are mistaken, i did not do anything to her” Aegon responded.

“Then why is she in your bed?” Jace asked.

“Because i found her. What would you have me do? Leave her out there whilst she’s passed out?” Aegon questions Jace’s opinions.

“We do not know for sure than anything has happened” Alicent looks towards both, Jace and Rhaenyra.

“What proof do you need that something has happened, other than the fact that my daughter is laying here unconscious!” Rhaenyra shouts.

She then looks to Aegon, “i do not accuse you, but i know that you know of something. And i must know what has happened.”

“How dare you question my son?” Alicent intervened.

“Who else must i question? He was the last to see her, so he must know what has happened!” Rhaenyra shouts back.

“Lara” Daemon walks in, as she was the first thing he set his eyes on before turning to Aegon.

As he almost drew his sword, Rhaenyra had stood in front of him to stop him, before assuring him, “it is not Aegon’s doing.”

Daemon had no words, no response, but rather let his eyes talk as he stared down at the young prince, who was guarded by his mother.

Rhaenyra had Daemon put his sword away, in no way of wanting anyone to get hurt, before turning to face Aegon.

“Tell me what you know. Please” Rhaenyra pleaded, “she is my daughter.”

“He does not need to tell you anything” Alicent responds for him.

“When i found her” Aegon gulped, pausing as he gains the courage to step forward, away from his mother’s shield.

“Aegon” Alicent whispered, yet he moved her to one side.

“When I found, all i know is she asked that i help her. Before she.. passed out” Aegon responds, “she seemed restless, and unable to walk properly, when i found her walking towards me. I um-? I suppose due to the fact that she may have been suffocated.”

“And how might you know that?” Rhaenyra asks.

“The look on her neck. It was.. sore. Red” Aegon responds.

“Did you not see anyone else? Anyone at all, who could have been following her?” Rhaenyra asks.

Aegon takes a glance at his mother, before looking back at Rhaenyra, “no. I’m sorry, but i have no idea.”

Rhaenyra nods, greatful to whatever it is Aegon had told her, before looking back to her daughter.

Aegon sighs, looking away, to find both Jace and Daemon looking back at him.

Unconvinced that there was not more to it.

“Your Grace” Ser Cristian Cole was heard, as he stood in front of the door, his eyes focused on no one, other than Alicent herself, “his Majesty, calls for you.”

Daemon looks back at Ser Cristian Cole, a scoff escaping him, in how he could be as such, as though someone did not try to kill his own daughter.

“Daemon do not” Rhaenyra whispers, “this is not the time.”

Ser Cole looks towards Daemon, as Daemon does towards him, yet smugly looks away, walking off as he follows Alicent out the room.

“All he cares for is his cock and its desires” Daemon mutters.

Rhaenyra rolls her eyes, finding it unbelievable for Daemon to act this way, before looking back, her eyes meeting to Aegon.

The boy stood, guiltily, as he watched Averillara lay in his bed.

Not having the courage to own up to what he truly saw, or who he truly saw last night, after finding Averillara hurt.

Larys was Alicent’s most trusted server, and almost seen as her partner.

If he were to tell the truth, then he had no idea what consequences he would have to face. Nor having any idea of the consequences after not revealing the whole truth.

“I cannot believe you!” Alicent shouts, “she is your daughter, for crying out loud.”

“I did not order him to kill her. I simply asked that he scare her” Ser Cole responds.

“And for what? What reason was needed?” Alicent asks, “do you think some sort of story like this will have her side with us? What were you thinking?”

“Your Majesty, i-?” Larys walks in, unwelcomed, before being silenced, when he finds both Ser Cole and Alicent stood opposite one another.

“Had i given you permission to walk in? Or is that what you thought, after what you planned last night?” Alicent asks.

“I do not know what you speak of?” Larys asks.

“She knows, Larys” Ser Cole responds.

“What were you thinking!” Alicent shouts, “haven’t you done enough?”

“I thought this is what you wanted, I don’t understand-?” Larys looks to Ser Cole, “you told me this what the Queen requested.”

Alicent scoffs, before she looks towards Ser Cole, “so you thought you have the authority to speak for what I want?”

“I did not say that” Ser Cole denied.

“Whatever has happened-! It has happened” Alicent looks to the two, landing on Larys lastly, “you must stay away. Keep a low profile, and do not appear in sight of her. If she is to spill out the truth, then who knows what it will cost.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

chapter 5

#aegon fanfic #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #halaena targaryen #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #house targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #jace velaryon #luke velaryon #ser criston cole #larys strong #hotd fanfiction #aegon targaryen fanfiction

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importantchaosgiver · 5 months

Text

Where Loyalties Lie:

Wonderful Indulgence

Summary: After hearing summons from the king, (Y/N) goes to investigate what and why Viserys asked for her. What she saw was heartbreaking... what she experienced was otherworldly...

Warnings: Canon typical swearing, angst, light smut,

P.S: This is my first time writing smut and (Y/N) will replace Alicent in the scene with Viserys in the bath.

******

No One's POV

When (Y/N) arrived in the king's chambers, she realised it was the middle of the night. And upon entering, she saw Viserys in a tub, wincing in pain as a maid cleaned his arm. Although, upon her entrance, Viserys looked up. She knew why he asked for her. But why not Alicent? "Please, leave," (Y/N) said to the servants, taking the towels and clothes from their arms. They nodded in respect to the Lady Commander and left, closing the door behind them. "We haven't spoken much since you came back," Viserys said gently. She said nothing as she looked at Viserys's arm and she felt her heart break even further. Discarding her cloak and sword, she knelt beside the tub. "Gods be good," (Y/N) whispered, looking at his arm. His pinky finger and the overall forearm. She knew damn well what this was. "You were cut by the Iron Throne, weren't you?" she whispered, looking into his eyes.

Viserys had never seen her so hurt, so pained, so... vulnerable. "Regrettably, yes," he muttered. (Y/N) said nothing and rolled her sleeves back, picking up the cloth and gently cleaning around the area. Being cut by the throne was a death sentence... and now not only did she have to hide how she felt, she had to bear the knowledge that we would die to a sickness that was doing who knows what to his body. He gave her a soft smile, the crackling fire in the hearth casting shadows across her face, highlighting her healing cut. But he noticed how her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

"Why didn't you say anything?" (Y/N) whispered, putting the cloth down and looking at Viserys, trying to hold back her tears. He gave a weak smile. "I didn't wish to worry you, my dear. But you have every right to know," he said, gently putting his hand on her cheek, cupping it. Heat flooded her body as she tried to fight the blush. "I... I don't know if I can watch you die," she whispered. Viserys leant forward. "We all have our time, (Y/N). Some, sooner than most," he said, their faces slowly getting closer, the flames flickering. "But... I can't lose you. Damnit, Viserys!" she hissed, pulling away and standing up. She walked back a few paces, turning her back to him as she tried to fight the raging torrent of emotions swirling in her. Her ears pricked up as she heard water sloshing about as Viserys no doubt got out of the bath. "The night I married Alicent, the night you left for the Stepstones... I had a dream. One so vivid, it felt like I lived it. By my side wasn't Alicent. It was you. Dressed in white, a crown of silver and diamond upon your head. A goddess. And you were sat upon the Iron Throne. Like a true queen. I knew then... I made a misdirection. I should have married the person I loved. Truly loved. The one who has been right in front of me all these years; hidden in plain sight," Viserys whispered gently, putting his hands on her clothed hips, turning her around. (Y/N)'s cheeks flushed as she realised he hadn't picked up a towel at all. His eyes gazed into hers, the firelight making the water on his body glisten. "(Y/N), I love you. And I want to show it to you... whilst I still can," he whispered, pressing her forehead to hers.

(Y/N) let out a shuddering breath, heat spreading through her veins, moisture pooling within her breeches and smallclothes. She had never felt like this before. As she had stuck true to her vows. But... could she possibly do this? The man she loved with feirce loyalty and passion, the man she spent her life protecting... he loved her. (Y/N) let out a breath. "I do not give a fuck about my oath as of now. Please, let me break it... for you," she whispered. Viserys smiled, his lips finally joining with hers after some long awaited years.

The kiss started off quite soft and tender. But, took on a more heated exchange. (Y/N) pulled back, taking deeper breaths. Viserys's hands wandered up her sides slowly, going to the collar of her shirt, unlacing it. Katherine's eyes flutter shut as his lips found her neck, pulling the fabric down enough so he could kiss all over her shoulder. All thought of her oath flew out of the window. And her king wished for this himself. It was all a blur, but she felt it all. Viserys's eagerness to take off her breeches. Her clothes were soon discarded to the floor as she stood before him. For the first time in her life, bare to a man. "Gods be good... you are wonderful. It is as if they sent an goddess to me," Viserys whispered, gently pushing her onto his bed, laying her beneath him. (Y/N) grasped onto the sheets as he looked down, entering her. She groaned at the feeling of her maidenhead being taken. But she had experienced far worse in manners of pain. Viserys gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing the line of stitches that kept her wound firmly shut.

Every movement, every caress, every moan and whisper... it felt so good. Like they were meant to be. Their lips joined in a feverish kiss, their bodies moving in perfectly sync to each other. Viserys could barely feel the aches and pains of his ailment, overwrought with pleasure as he finally had (Y/N). He finally had her love, her body, her everything.

~~~

(Y/N) soundlessly got back into her clothes, lifting her breeches back up, smiling as she saw him watching her. Viserys smiled at her as she pulled her shirt back on and did the laces back up. "That has never felt more right," he chuckled softly. "All those years I heard about the pleasures of fucking. I couldn't agree more," she replied, using her hair to conceal the mark on her neck. "Goodnight... my love," Viserys whispered, pressing one last kiss to the back of her hand. (Y/N)'s heart skipped a beat. "Rest well, Viserys," she whispered, giving him a soft and lingering kiss to his lips before standing up, putting her cloak and sword back on and left. With a smile upon her face and her heart uplifted. But... for how long...?

******

Okay, so I went a bit light on the smut bit. But I have been thinking on it for a while. Enjoy!

#alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #otto hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #viserys targaryen #viserys x reader #fantasy #westeros #asoiaf #criston cole

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1ovede1uxe · 9 months

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00. prologue ┊ ┊⋆ beyond the stars

synopsis - you've been sent to join the joestar crew on their mission to defeat dio by... dio? y/n is an undercover stand user who joins the sdc to report back to dio their findings and notes about their stands, up until a few moral dilemmas get in the way of your original mission.

Upon receiving Hol's texts, you ascend the stairs to Dio's room. A wave of dread washes over you, but not the intimidation you're used to. Dio wanted to see you. Specifically you. And it messed with your head big time. It's also likely this is another little joke that Hol wants to play on you. That has to be it, right? Just a sick joke, right? But he's never taken it this far as to disturbing Lord Dio. As you journey the vast halls of the mansion, you curse yourself for getting into this mess all that time ago.

One? No. .two years ago? I don't remember how long ago but I remember it so clearly. My graduation trip to Egypt. My mom went missing as we were strolling at night. One second she was there, the next she wasn't. I began to search like a madwoman, going down every street going in every business asking if they had seen her. I stumbled upon the wretched mansion and like a moth to the flame I was drawn to it.

I called for anyone to open the door or greet me, but no answer. I entered anyways. I don't know why I did that. I finally reached a set of french doors at the end of a corridor after going up a seemingly endless flight of stairs. I heard her scream. Mom. I burst through the door just as he was about to do something to her. It's all a blur to me but at the same time its just so clear. "

Take me instead. Do what you want, but let my mother free." He let out a snide chuckle. I don't know why he agreed. I almost wish I hadn't in a way, I didn't know the consequences. I never saw my mom again. I hope she made it back home. After that it's hazy to me. I only remember the last moments that Lord Dio was with only me. I was pierced by the arrow. I was the test dummy for these stupid stand arrows that old hag brought him.

The only somewhat positive thing out of this was my stand: Fly by Day.

Fly by Day - User can turn light energy into tools, objects, weapons and other items, and create structures/buildings of varying permanence. Users who have mastered this ability can use it for any size object, but bigger object take more work to grow. The objects created can only be things the user has touched with their own hands.

"Your stand should prove useful, creating a strength out of my one weakness." The twisted man said. Can I even call him a man? He's a monster. During my time in Dio's hell hole, I did get to meet Mariah and Hol Horse. I guess thats a positive, but I guess my only friends are a khaki cowboy and also Mariah, who was tough to warm up to.

You entered Lord Dio's room. Aromas of frankincense and the musk of myrrh flood my nose. "Ah, (y/n). It is time you prove your use to me for more than just material possessions."

"What is it you wish, Lord Dio?" You kneel to the ground in his presence, not wishing to upset him.

"I have a special mission for you. It appears my other young underlings have failed. They've not only failed, but joined the loathsome Joestars. My head taking over this wretched body isn't capable of maintaining my connection with the Joestars much longer. My understanding is you're close in age to them, so you're impressionable to them. I command you do the same as those who have failed."

"Forgive me, but I'm not understanding."

"You'll go under a guise of being transformed from my minion to one of them."

"I understand, Lord Dio." This could be my break.

"Just remember, (y/n). It's been a while since you've left the mansion. If you attempt to run, what little of a life you have left will be gone. My other servants along the way can and will take you out."

With that, and the little motivation of a known false freedom, I was on my way to go find these so called crusaders.

Yay! Prologue is knocked out! Sorry if Dio is a bit out of character, I wasn't really sure how to write him! By the time the next Dio interaction happens, I'm sure I'll have better practice by then. please send any constructive criticism or comments on what can be changed! much love to you all <3

taglist is open! request through askbox :)

next chapter // masterlist

#beyond the stars #jjba #stardust crusaders #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jotaro kujo #jotaro x reader #noriaki kakyoin #kakyoin noriaki x reader #jojo #jojo part 3

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greekmythcomix · 1 year

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Fantasy Odyssey cast

I’m working on the choose-your-own-path Odyssey book/game today, and I thought a good way of trying to write a bit faster (and stop being distracted by the fact that I have a day off from the world to do with as I like and I’m spending it stuck to the computer) would be to visualise the characters as actors I like. Or at least work out whom I have been visualising all this time. I’ll add to this list as I write other sections.

NB: I live in the UK, was a child in the 90s, and like comedies and dramas, so these are probably going to end up all British and aren’t necessarily going to be very exciting choices! Please feel free to make your own suggestions.

PS: I know there’s a film coming out with Ralph Fiennes as Odysseus and Juliette Binoche as Penelope coming out in a year or so, but that casting is just too serious for me (and Binoche is forever Antigone to me after using her NT run to teach the play for coursework, so…)

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

Odysseus:

Michael Sheen

Odysseus is complicated. Apparently he looks like a country boob, but has a voice that commands all and speaks words like falling snowflakes. He can lie at a second’s notice, but is also loyal and magnetic enough for his wife to have wanted to wait for him all this time. The role needs Sheen: the sheer *range* of the man, who can be sweet *and* prickly inside one sentence. His Nero is terrifying yet also somehow vulnerable. He also looks excellently the part - stocky, sturdy, with a woolly beard and hair (perfect streak of weathered white through the front). He’d be captivating.

Telemachus:

Alex Lawther

I’m a bit sick of portrayals of Telemachus making him a total one-note whinge bag (you know which portrayal I mean in particular) and in the text he’s angry yet well-behaved and does a lot of growing up. He’s been brought up by only his clever mother and her loyal servants/enslaved people so he should be a little soft but sharp around the edges (the suitors are almost all the same age as him give or take a handful of years), and he also takes after his father - Homer really paints that comparison on thick - so he should be clever too.

That’s Lawther in a nutshell.

And, if you look at photos of a younger Michael Sheen, there’s a lot of similarity there, so that works too. (And they’ve both played Hamlet, so that would be fun to talk about)

Menelaus

Brendan Gleeson/ Brian Gleeson

The film Troy rather ruined this one, as Brendan Gleeson played Menelaus rather perfectly for me. Only I’m imagining he gets a lot nicer once he gets Helen back. However, he's rather aged out of the part, but his son Brian is almost old enough to play him (yes, nepotism). In Frank of Ireland he’s a lil bit daft and that’s how I’m seeing Menelaus in Book 4, all memories and wrapped around his wife’s littlest finger.

Helen

Right now, possibly Emilia Clarke, but I’m not certain (see below)

Helen is a confident trickster. She’s effectively been abused her whole life, treated as a prize and a sexual object since childhood, can’t trust anyone, and is now leaning into it (see Book 3). But all she wants is stability. It’s probably a choice a little influenced by Clarke’s former roles, but her apple-cheeked visage and winning smile suggest she can get herself out of trouble by getting men to fight eachother for the privilege.

EDIT: wait wait wait... let's go left-field and get Natasia Demetriou. Her Helen would be manipulative, dismissive, sometimes incredibly sweet and naive but only on the surface. She'll dope you to make sure you don't ruin a good time. She's in charge. Oh yes.

Penelope

Nina Sosanya/Olivia Colman

Our Penelope is so sassy, totally on it (Odysseus-in-disguise praises her as a ‘king’, the highest era-appropriate compliment on her rule he can give), but willing to make way for her son. She’s clever, no-nonsense, totally in love but also a realist. I couldn’t pick between these two brilliant actors so I’m picking bits of them: Sosanya’s needliness and Colman’s ability to dismiss you kindly and both of their wit.

Athene

Ruth Wilson

Calculating, sexy, kind of ruthless. Enough said.

Diomedes

Kayvan Novak

He’s not in it for long, though there’s potential for plenty of flashbacks. Diomedes is pretty serious, businesslike, a bit meat-headed, deadly as a sword between your ribs, and while Novak is a lot funnier than that I think he could pull off the character without being unlikeable.

Antinous and Eurymachus

Timothee Chalamet and… TBD

Ok so technically Chalamet is a teensy bit younger than Lawther rather than older, but it’s within tolerance. I think he could pull off older and haughtier, full of insouciance knowing how much he’s worth compared to the rest of them, and properly intimidating and manipulative. The murder plot the suitors attempt against Telemachus becomes a bit of a dark peer prank, with Chalamet as the leader of a group of obnoxious rich boys who only have one impediment between them as suitors and one of them as king, and I can see a face-off between Chalamet-Antinous and Lawther-Telemachus with Ruth Wilson’s delighted Athene bobbing between them.

Eurylochus and Polites

Simon Farnaby and Jim Howick (Ghosts, Horrible Histories)

Obviously these two need bigger roles than in the original text, so they pop up in the alternate storylines. Eurylochus is smarmy and annoying, and Polites is an adorable yes-man. At one point Odysseus wonders whether or not he should actually cut Eurylochus’ head off, and I can see Farnaby and Sheen facing off in my head. And there have to be some comedic characters in here to relieve the tension.

More like 20 years, amirite?

Eumaeus

Not sure yet. Eumaeus is such an important and underrated character, earnest and loyal to the last, but with the bearing of a prince (as he once was before becoming enslaved). I’m fluctuating between Idris Elba, Riz Ahmed and David Tennant, which is a bit mad, but I’m getting back to writing this bit soon and I may have a better idea after they’ve sat down for an interminable amount of time to eat roast piglet. But, now I've seen Good Omens 2, maybe just Michael Tennant with heart-eyes for Odysseus is pretty accurate.

I am desperate to get Matt Berry in here somewhere. I think he’s going to be Medon the herald, who has covered himself in an ox-hide and is hiding under a chair during the suitor-slaughter. BUT WOULDN'T HE BE BRILLIANT AS AGAMEMNON???

Proteus, god of the Sea

Proteus is both king of Memphis in mythology, but also a sea-god (like Nereus) who shepherds seals and cannot lie. I've made them different characters, but I think they could pull off being played by the same actor. Proteus of the sea is a shape-changer, changing into a lion, snake, water and fire (!), but is often thought of as being half-man-half-seasnake.

Hello Sir Derek Jacobi, I love you but am also very cross with you right now, be a seasnake-seal-shepherd.

I’ll edit this post when I think of more.

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hush-writes-preg · 2 years

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Of Tempests & Flames: Bringing Forth the Heir

Commission for: @themightyfluffyone Word count: 5,082 Summary: (A D&D-inspired story based on the commissioner's characters and universe) Storm is sick and tired of being hovered over by the infuriating sun elves just because he's carrying the heir to their kingdom. He's also done with the endless summer heat, and those pesky cramps that he just can't seem to shake…

(Part 3 of 4; Part 1, Part 2, Part 4)

TW: Labor, birth

He really, really shouldn’t have gone out today.

The sun shone overhead in a cheery, blinding ball of heat that left sweat beading on Storm’s skin, with nary a cloud in the sky to block its intense rays. He usually didn’t care, but the summer sun left the temperature uncomfortably warm, which coupled with the dark, draping fabrics he always insisted on wearing, left him unbearably hot.

All the extra weight at his middle didn’t help matters, either.

The moon elf let out an exasperated puff of air as he paused yet again to rub at the middle of his back, his massive belly hanging before him as a constant reminder of, well, everything. Of the fact that he’d let the prince of the sun elves knock him up after months of trying in return for safe haven, which he needed because he was a wanted man, and he was on the run because he’d stolen a necklace to increase his power but also happened to piss a whole bunch of people off in the process. Now he was stuck here in Sunvail, with his rented womb occupied—

A tiny foot struck him right under the ribs as if its occupant was scolding him for his spiraling thoughts.

“Sorry, little one,” he muttered under his breath, one clawed hand curling under his pregnant belly and rubbing soothingly. “I know it’s not all bad. Your father is… not as infuriating as he used to be, and you’ve grown on me too.”

Someone just out of sight cleared their throat in that insistent and slightly pompous way that always left his teeth grinding in irritation. His royal babysitters were rarely out of reach, especially now that he was so close to birthing the kingdom’s eagerly-awaited heir, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Or them.

He didn’t like many people, honestly.

“Sir?” the voice asked with forced politeness. “Is everything alright? Would you prefer to return to your quarters and rest?”

“No, I damned well would not,” Storm practically growled, drawing his spine ramrod straight in a facsimile of his usual arrogance and doing his best to ignore his aching body’s prompt protests. “I fully intend to finish my walk, Boon. I’ve had far too much ‘resting’ lately, and if I get too much more of it, then I might have to break something. Or someone.”

“Very well,” came the other’s dry reply. “Just keep in mind that His Majesty, Prince Flamecaller, will be indisposed until well into the evening, so you would do well not to overexert yourself and draw him away from important matters of state.” Boon was one of many palatial servants who’d been assigned to his well-being as his pregnancy progressed, and like most of them, he seemed to have a stick lodged firmly up his ass. Boon in particular thought Storm beneath Flamecaller’s notice, and had on more than one occasion bemoaned the fact that the prince hadn’t chosen to mate with one of his own kind instead of some waspish moon elf.

Needless to say, they didn’t get along very well.

A faint muscle spasm along the underside of his belly compelled him stubbornly forward. Storm was all too aware of the countless eyes that watched his every move while he was out in public, guards and attendants and curious passersby all helping themselves to a look at the heavily pregnant moon elf in their midst. Moon elves and sun elves rarely mixed these days in a social fashion, so to see one in the capital city was odd enough. Anyone who happened to see a pregnant moon elf so close to the palace almost certainly knew who Storm was and what he was doing here, which was why his occasional trips outside had grown few and far between in recent weeks.

Anyone who had a beef with him or the royal family would know to paint a huge target right in the middle of his back.

So while he’d managed to convince his babysitters to let him outside today, they actually hadn’t left the confines of the palace, preferring to let him stroll around one of Solarian’s many gardens instead of risking his life (and the life of the royal heir) by actually venturing into the city.

But by the gods, he was growing claustrophobic.

Step by step, he made his way around the lawn, sticking to the shaded areas where he could and boldly striding through the unavoidable sunny spots when he had to, with his gravid middle leading the way. To be sure, he had a bit of a rolling gait, but if anyone had even tried to suggest that he ‘waddled’, he might take their head off. Sweating, aching, tired, and far too warm, his already prickly personality had grown outright scathing over the past few days.

Storm nearly made it the entire way around the inside of the garden wall when another cramp spread through his midsection, the tight pain sending him stumbling to a halt. The midwives called it ‘false labor’, but the moon elf felt like it was just another way for nature to torture him through this entire experience.

“Sir?”

“Fuck off, Boon.”

His attendant didn’t bother trying to hide a longsuffering sigh from somewhere behind him. If Storm hadn’t been exhausted from hauling around an extra thirty pounds (and all of the other trials that came with this pregnancy), he might have whirled around and torn into the infuriating man. Instead, he shuffled his belly around and tossed a glare in Boon’s general direction that lacked its usual biting ire.

He was fucking miserable, okay?

“You’re dismissed, Boon. I’ll take things from here.” Another voice rose at Storm’s side, just as familiar and posh as Boon’s yet bearing a no-nonsense tone that clearly communicated that it expected no defiance. “I’m sure you must have much better things to do elsewhere, yes?”

Storm didn’t bother listening to Boon’s reply, sure that it was just as snide and passive-aggressive as the rest of him, but waited for his footsteps to fade before addressing the newcomer. “I don’t recall asking for anyone’s help, Win.”

“And I certainly wouldn’t deign to give help where it wasn’t requested, my lord.” He could nearly hear the smile in the other’s voice as he spoke, his tone just as dulcet and soothing to the ear as his appearance was to the eye. Dressed in muted robes of blue, grey, and silver with his long white hair bundled into a fashionable knot at the nape of his neck, Frostwind was a lithe, pretty male that would have turned many a head in the Court of the Sun if it weren’t for the tell-tale grey tinge of his skin that spoke of mixed parentage. Storm didn’t know much about him besides that he worked as a palace attendant and somehow seemed immune to most of the moon elf’s hormonal mood swings, which was quite an impressive feat. “But I do know that you’ve been out in the sun for almost an hour now, and your robes are stained with sweat. Perhaps it’s time to take a break, if only for a little while?”

Storm wanted to snap at him, to stubbornly do the exact opposite of what Win suggested just to be contrary, but he was ridiculously thirsty and his backache had only gotten worse. Besides, the baby picked that exact moment to punt him right in the bladder.

“Fine,” he growled, wincing. “But only because I’ve got to take a piss.”

By the time he made it back to his room, the cramps had gotten bad enough to steal his breath, but Storm refused to give anyone another reason to fuss over him.

They’d already done more fussing than he had the patience to deal with. The King had insisted on arranging the most extravagantly prepared birthing chambers for the arrival of his son’s heir-to-be with all of the awareness of someone with no real concept of money, including hiring enough midwives for a whole platoon of expectant parents, which led to Storm threatening to sneak away in the middle of the night and never come back. It was already bad enough that he’d probably have to spread his legs and push out a baby in front of a stranger or two, but he sure as hells wasn’t going to do it in front of an entire guild and half the royal family in the middle of a gold-gilded suite.

He’d butted heads with the king over the issue for weeks until the overwhelming stress and a bit of frightening spotting had forced Solarian to surrender the fight. Instead, they’d had only the essentials moved into Storm’s quarters, while the King swore that no more than a handful of necessary staff would be in the room to assist with the birth.

After stripping off his warm, sweaty robes in exchange for nothing more than an oversized tunic, the moon elf promptly kicked every servant and attendant right out of the room, unable to deal with the presence of anyone else. He’d had these kinds of cramps before, but not this bad, and the discomfort sapped away his already limited ability to cope with other people. Collapsing to his side on the bed, Storm curled around his swollen belly and tried to wait them out.

Time seemed to creep by as morning turned into afternoon, but the pangs only seemed to strengthen rather than fade with rest. The baby shifted and kicked from within the confines of his womb as if they were just as bothered by the tensing muscles, and the moon elf found himself rubbing his hands over his dark grey skin in a vain attempt to calm them. But he soon found himself too unsettled to remain lying down, and after a great deal of effort and some rather ungainly wriggling, Storm managed to get himself out of bed and back on his feet.

The soothing smells of sandalwood and citrus filled the room from a small pot warming in the window, a subtle reminder of the prince’s own scent, but even that failed to soothe his frazzled nerves. Storm began to pace through the room, one hand pressed against the small of his back while he tried to distract himself by running through mental lists of spell components and memorized incantations. The cramps had to stop soon, right? They did every other time he’d gotten them. It wasn’t like he could already be in labor, not when the midwives said he had another couple of weeks before the baby came. If anyone in the palace even suspected that he might be in labor, they’d descend on him like a flock of vultures looking for any scraps of gossip they might devour, and he’d never get a moment’s peace.

Gods above and below, he missed not being pregnant.

The next cramp shuddered through his gravid womb and left his abdomen painfully tight, forcing him to grasp blindly for the bedpost and hang on while he tried to breathe through it. “Fuck,” he groaned, his cloudy eyes fluttering shut. Maybe he had overexerted himself this morning, and his body was retaliating. Of course he’d feel a little pain and cramping from carrying around such a huge load for too long. It was only natural that he’d–

Pop. Storm gasped as he felt a strange release of pressure and a sudden cascade of fluid down the insides of his thighs. Cheeks burning in embarrassment, the moon elf clutched his legs together in a vain attempt to stem the flow. Yeah, pregnancy had been hard on his bladder, but he’d never outright wet himself before.

Oh gods, what if Flamecaller walked in and saw him like this?

Mortified, Storm grabbed for his discarded tunic and tried to mop up the mess. It wasn’t until he realized that he didn’t smell the sharp scent of urine that the pieces finally clicked.

Cramps. Back pain. Water.

He was in labor.

Storm wasn’t sure what was worse: the contractions or the pressure.

Once he realized he was in labor, he couldn’t sit still. It wasn’t like his body would let him, anyway, considering how the contractions continued to speed up and hit harder as time crept along. He found himself using every piece of furniture in the room as a support to breathe through the rhythmic spasms, clenching his teeth and biting down the cries that threatened to bubble up from the back of his throat. A new layer of sweat left his tunic clinging to his heaving body, the thin fabric sticking to his milk-swollen breasts and the gargantuan dome of his abdomen. But still the stubborn moon elf refused to call out. He’d grown so used to hiding any hint of weakness or vulnerability that even now, he struggled against the thought of exposing himself.

Bent over the edge of the bed with the latest contraction, Storm arched his hips and tried to rock through the pain, his belly hanging pendulously beneath him. He could feel the weight of the baby sliding into his pelvis and filling him with an intense sensation of fullness as it worked its way lower, and the knowledge that he’d soon have to give birth began to unravel his carefully-cultivated calm. His hands and face buried in the bed’s opulent sheets, the moon elf muffled an involuntary scream against the mattress as he tried not to give in to the growing desire to push. He wasn’t ready to deal with that yet, maybe not ever, and–

“My lord? Would you care for some refreshments?”

Oh my fucking gods, no, I don’t want you or anyone else near me right now. Swallowing heavily, Storm struggled for enough composure to answer, but unfortunately, he waited a bit too long.

“...My lord? Is everything alright?”

Another contraction ripped its way through his thin frame, centered on the massive bulge of his belly. Silk and fine linen tore like paper beneath his clawing fingers while another spurt of warm fluid trickled down to his knees. “Everything is fine,” he finally managed to growl out, but his forced answer came at a price when the last word degenerated Into a strangled whimper that only a forge-deafened dwarf would miss.

A muffled curse rose on the other side of the heavy carved door, followed by the sound of keys. “Hold on, Storm. I’m coming in.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Storm half-sobbed, but it was already too late.

Frostwind pushed his way into the room without an ounce of his usual poise, his hurried steps faltering as soon as he caught sight of the moon elf’s barely-covered bottom and the puddle at his feet. “Goddess preserve us,” he breathed, his gaze darting around the room before returning to the panting elf beside the bed. “How long have you been in labor?”

“Don’t know,” Storm muttered into the sheets.

“How do you not– oh, never mind.” His voice held the slightest touch of exasperated fondness before he turned to poke his head back through the door and shout something

Storm wasn’t exactly of a mind to listen to what he said, though. He knew that he’d soon be inundated with nosy sun elves intent on watching him make a further mess of himself, and the utter mortification of the approaching situation was starting to settle in. In half a daze, he tried pulling one of the torn sheets from the bed to wrap around his waist in a half-assed skirt, but someone grabbed his hands.

“None of that, now,” Win gently rebuked him, pulling the fabric away and wrapping a careful arm around his waist instead. “Come along; let’s get you settled in your chair, alright?”

“Leave me alone,” the laboring moon elf grumbled, trying and failing to pull away from the delicate-looking elf’s suddenly firm grasp. “I am not sitting on that stupid-looking–” Another cramp sent him doubling over, and if it wasn’t for Frostwind’s support, he might have toppled over. He did cry out this time, a pathetic sort of wail that he knew he’d deny later, but how else was he supposed to react to being split open by something the size of a melon?

Frostwind hushed him and drew him along like a petulant child towards the chair Storm had ignored for weeks. The low wooden monstrosity with a bench seat and handles looked like it’d been made for torture rather than comfort, but apparently it was a traditional piece of birthing equipment in these parts. Win patiently guided the moon elf into place despite the way the male swore at him, brushing sweat-damp hair from his face and even going so far as to drape Storm’s sheet over his lap to give him a little privacy. “There we go,” he said soothingly, his lips curled in a faint smile even when he had to duck back to avoid Storm’s sharp claws. “Try to catch your breath for a moment. The other midwife will be here soon, and I’m sure His Highness the prince will be right on her heels.”

The ‘other midwife’? Storm glared in Frostwind’s direction, his eyes narrowing as he finally put the pieces together. “Are you telling me that you’re a midwife?”

“Guilty as charged,” the other male chuckled, drawing up his loose sleeves and tying them in place to leave his arms bare. “Do you honestly think you’d have agreed to my near-constant presence over the past few months if you knew that? His Highness didn’t think so.”

No, he definitely wouldn’t have agreed, because he hated the idea of being treated like some delicate flower on the verge of breaking. But Storm refused to admit that. “I don’t like being lied to,” he snarled, ducking away as Frostwind tried to wipe the sweat from his brow.

“And I never lied to you,” the midwife cooly answered. “You just never asked. Perhaps if you tried to get to know people instead of skulking around all the time, you wouldn’t find yourself surprised by such basic facts.”

Before Storm could shoot out a sharp retort, a chaotic whirlwind of reds, golds, and purples burst through the door. The usually composed and regal form of Flamecaller, prince of the sun elves, was in slight disarray, almost as if he’d half run the length of the palace to get there. His breathing was a little fast and his eyes a bit too wide as they landed on Storm’s disheveled shape, but otherwise he managed to hold a noble air around himself like a slightly-tattered cloak. “Are you alright, Storm?”

“Does it look like I’m alright?!” the moon elf snarled, gesturing wildly at his sweaty, bloated body. “I’m– I’m– oh fuck–”

“The contractions are coming pretty quickly now,” Frostwind said with his usual evenness as he gestured to indicate where the other midwife could set a basin of warm water. “Your mate managed to hide them from me for hours before I realized what was happening.”

“Not… his mate,” Storm groaned, clutching at his quaking belly.

“Of course not,” Win replied in an infuriating and entirely too-agreeable way. “Now I need to check your dilation, which means I need to touch you. Can I do that without you taking a swipe at me?”

Wood scraped across stone as Flamecaller pulled a stool to his lover’s side, dropping into the seat and grabbing for Storm’s hands. “I’ll keep him occupied,” he promised, drawing one to his lips to give the back a quick kiss. “You know, I was in the middle of a meeting with several of the western lords when the runner came. You should have seen their faces when I got up and walked out in the middle of one of their tirades.”

Storm leaned back against the chair, sweat glistening on his brow as he tried to ignore the midwife’s probing fingers, infinitely glad that the other kept his claws filed short. “Are you expecting an apology from me?”

“Of course not. They’re as interesting as boiled porridge and twice as useful in matters of state,” the prince said with a smile. “I’m thankful for the reprieve. Let Father deal with them.” His words might have been lighthearted, but there was nothing trivial about the intense way his eyes met Storm’s. Something burned within them, brighter than flame magic and twice as hot, an unspoken affection to which they’d both been reluctant to put a name. Flamecaller leaned close, his warm lips brushing briefly against the corner of his lover’s mouth. “I’ve got more important things to deal with right now.”

They might have been having a moment, but the baby wasn’t about to stop for anything. A new contraction rippled over Storm’s swollen womb before he could respond, leaving him scrunching his face in pain as he let out a distressed howl through clenched teeth.

“That’s right, ride it out,” the midwife said from his incredibly intimate position between Storm’s outstretched legs. “You’re almost completely open, Storm. It won’t be long now.”

“Gods, it’s already been hours,” the moon elf griped. He turned to glare at Flamecaller, his cloudy eyes narrowing. “Your child is already a menace, you scheming bastard.”

“Well, at least we know where they got that from,” Flamecaller replied with a smirk. “It’s certainly not from my side of the family tree.”

The two males stared each other down, ignoring the sound of clinking glass and pouring liquid until a chilled glass was pressed against the prince’s palm. “Here,” Frostwind murmured, gesturing at the glass with the point of his chin. “Bloodfruit juice. He needs some fluids, and the sweetness will give him some much-needed energy.”

Rime clung thickly to the glass from the midwife’s magic, leaving its crimson contents startlingly cold against Storm’s tongue as he took a careful sip from the offered drink. Something shifted heavily around the bottom of the glass, but Win predicted the prince’s question before it even left his lips.

“Moonstone,” he said, sparing Storm a glance. “For the Goddess’s blessing. Mother always swore by it.”

It was such a small thing, but that faint nod to their shared heritage in this foreign land eased a little of the tension from the moon elf’s shoulders. “Thank you,” he mumbled quietly.

Perhaps it was the moonstone’s boon, or perhaps it was Flamecaller’s presence, or perhaps his body had just gotten fed up with the whole process of childbirth, but everything seemed to escalate from that moment. Storm barely had a chance to catch his breath before the next contraction slammed into him, and his claws dug weeping punctures in the prince’s fair skin when the pain grew too much. Soon Frostwind began urging him to push, and he felt the baby’s tiny body shift farther and farther down.

“I can feel the head,” the midwife called up to them after the next contraction, his fingers probing gently into Storm’s straining opening. “You’re making excellent progress, my lord.”

“Just get it out of me,” Storm moaned, exhaustion starting to creep over his features. “Please.”

“That’s all on you, my lord,” Frostwind replied, wiping his hands on the towel the assisting midwife handed him. “Keep pushing, and we’ll meet them soon enough.”

“I’m already fucking pushing!” the laboring elf practically wailed, the dome of his belly almost impossibly tight from the near-constant waves of contractions.

“Shhh,” Flamecaller whispered, pulling his lover against his chest and cradling him close. “You’re doing great. It won’t be long until our baby’s here, my beloved tempest.”

“I hate you,” Storm grumbled, unwanted tears soaking into the prince’s fine shirt. “You godsdamned bastard. You did this to me. Hells, I’m never gonna let you touch me again.”

“I hate you too,” Flamecaller replied, but the spoken words didn’t at all line up with the obvious tenderness coloring his voice as he ran a pale hand soothingly over his lover’s hair. “But let us save those honeyed words for after the little one comes, alright?”

Swallowing and giving the prince a half nod in response, Storm grasped the chair’s handles and tried to brace himself for the next contraction.

But gods, were they brutal. It felt like a giant fist closed over his womb every time and tried to squeeze all of his insides right out through his cunt.

Everything started to blur together into an endless cycle of pain, cramping, and pushing. The room rang with Storm’s wails, with Frostwind and Flamecaller’s calmer voices adding to the din with their encouragement and soothing tones. But no matter how hard he bore down, the moon elf couldn’t seem to get over that last threshold.

He’d nearly brought the baby to a full crown when panic finally hit him. Wild-eyed and near frantic, the moon elf threw an arm over his face and slumped back in his chair as he desperately gulped down air.

“Don’t stop now!” the midwife called, kneeling expectantly between Storm’s cloth-shrouded knees as if ready to catch the child at any moment. “They’ve stretched you almost as wide as you’ll have to go. Push a little harder, and they should slide right out.”

“I can’t,” the exhausted elf whimpered.

“You can.”

“No, I can’t!” Electricity fizzled around the edges of Storm’s wide-eyed face, his chest heaving for every breath. “I can’t– I can’t do this anymore. Just get the godsdamned baby out of me.”

“If you’ve got the energy to discharge magic like an unschooled child, then you have enough energy to finish giving birth,” Frostwind scolded, his lips turning down in the first frown that either of them could ever remember seeing on his comely face.

“No!”

Warm fingers tucked under the stubborn elf’s chin and turned his face towards Flamecaller. The cocky smile on the prince’s face wasn’t as bright as it usually was, but it still radiated warmth as he met Storm’s eyes. “Focus on me,” he murmured. “I have faith in you. I know how powerful and incredibly stubborn you are, so I know you can do this. You’re already so, so close.” His thumb brushed across the bottom edge of the moon elf’s lip, a gentle caress that spoke of all the things they hadn’t yet said. “In fact, if I reached down right now, I could– I could touch our little one. The one we made, together. The one you’ve carried in your belly for all these months.”

Storm let out a shuddering sigh and gave the faintest of nods.

“But you know what I’d like most, my impetuous Storm?” His fingers slid reverently over the moon elf’s cheek, his magic drawing some of the heat from his lover’s flushed skin. “I want to hold them in my arms and see whether their features take after yours or mine. I want to place them against your chest and watch them suckle from their father for the first time. I want to be able to look upon the purest, most precious gift that anyone’s ever been able to give me and finally understand what it means to have everything.” Flamecaller was the son of a powerful king, and he’d long since learned to mask his thoughts and feelings behind a carefully-cultivated veneer, but at that moment, something akin to vulnerability touched his eyes. “Please, Storm. Let’s meet our baby, hmm?”

The thin body pressed against him relaxed ever so slightly, its owner managing a faint chuckle. “And here I’ve always thought you were a heartless bastard,” the moon elf whispered, leaning into the prince’s touch. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft.”

“Never where you’re concerned,” Flamecaller teased, though further banter immediately ceased as soon as a tell-tale flash of pain skittered across Storm’s face.

“Save the bedroom talk for later, my lords,” said the midwife, giving Storm’s knee a purposeful pat. “It’s nearly time for you to push again.”

It didn’t happen during that contraction or even the contraction after that. But on the third grueling clench of his overtaxed womb, the moon elf gripped the handles of his birthing chair and filled the room with a fierce shout that threatened to shake the very rafters. The sound abruptly ended, leaving behind a silence that seemed eager to be broken.

And just like that, it was.

The mewling squall of a newborn filled the gap left by its father’s voice, reedy yet somehow still quite angry, as if its owner couldn’t believe the impertinence of being forced out into this cold, unfamiliar place. “It’s a boy!” Frostwind called out, cradling the tiny heir to the sun elf kingdom in his arms. The hall was immediately filled with shouts of unmistakable joy and congratulations, accompanied by footfalls as runners took off to deliver the news throughout the palace.

“Let me see him,” Storm mumbled, slumped tiredly against the chair. Everything hurt, and everything leaked, but somehow it didn’t seem to matter anymore. All that mattered was the tiny gray-skinned child in Frostwind’s arms, a shock of pale hair plastered to his oblong head while his wrinkled little body flailed.

The midwife nodded, expertly winding a soft cloth around the babe’s body before handing him over to Flamecaller. The slick cord still trailed from his belly, and his skin was streaked with gods-knew-what, but somehow he was still perfect.

“A son,” the prince whispered in barely-concealed wonder. “You’ve given me a son.”

“I’ve given us a son,” Storm chided, though there was only a hint of the usual edge to his voice. “If you think I’m going to go through all that and then just walk away from him, you’ve got another damned thing coming.”

“Fine, you’ve given us a son.” Placing the baby gently against the moon elf’s chest, Flamecaller let his hand linger, stroking his fingers along the newborn’s back. “But I’d hate for him to be an only child. Does this mean–?”

Someone let out a polite cough, and they looked down to find Win staring at them with one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised. “I expect you to wait at least four to six weeks, gentlemen.”

“For what?”

Flamecaller burst out laughing, which startled the baby into another bout of displeased sounds just as horrified realization spread across Storm’s face. The moon elf’s mortified voice added to the cacophony as he leveled a string of scathing curses at the now-grinning midwife and the prince alike, all while the news of this joyous occasion spread across the capital city like wildfire.

And somewhere, the Goddess smiled.

✨ If you liked my story, please consider leaving me a tip so I can continue writing lengthier content! ✨

My Pregnancy Writing ✨ My Stuffing Writing ✨ Commissions

#hush writes preg #ftm pregnancy #tmpreg #transpreg #trans pregnancy #mpreg #fantasy pregnancy #pregnancy kink #elven pregnancy #elven birth #d&d pregnancy

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ailingwriter · 10 months

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Ideas for a hypothetical sequel to Live a Live:

So obviously it's going to be another anthology series, but this time people are going to guess that all of the stories are connected so we can make that more obvious, possibly also referencing the original Live a Live.

I think it would be best if all of the stories are new ones. So, let's say 8 new stories. Problem: my overactive brain came up with over 2x as many. Ah well I can pare it down. Hopefully.

Before that though, you may be wondering. Which one will inevitably become the demon king? Answer: Whichever one you choose as your first hero. Because those who have played Live a Live expect one of the main characters to be a villain, they don't expect it to be the first one. In each bad path, the servants of the demon king work to corrupt the hero in any way they can, bringing about a new lord of dark. This also buffs whichever character is chosen first, making the first story much easier to complete.

As for all the different stories... I'll be honest I meant to share all of them in a single post but this first one ended up being so long I decided to put them all in different posts. So here's the first one...

Iron Age: Bitter Cold/Man's Best Friend.

The main character is a hunter trying to provide for his tribe. His special skill is that he can place traps if given the right materials, which he can trade for with the spoils of his hunt in a nearby settlement. This kind of fuses the mechanics of the Wild West and Stone Age from the original Live A Live. In battle, he mainly uses his bow and, again, traps, making him a not very straightforward character to learn.

In the good path, the hunter feeds a wolf who attacked him earlier then gets caught in his trap. The wolf then follows him, which will eventually lead into the domestication of dogs. Maybe not historically accurate, but then again Live a Live isn't always accurate anyway, especially with prehistory.

The two then go on to keep gathering food, all the while noticing strange occurrences. Massacred beasts, torn apart by no man or animal. Eventually, they learn from a neighboring village that a monster roams the snowy wastes at night. If the Hunter faces it at night then no damage can be dealt. Instead he must progress the story until the monster comes to him. He must weaken the monster by quickly setting up traps around the village. Even without any traps, the firelight makes defeating the monster technically possible, but very difficult without having used traps.

In the bad path, demons kill the wolf as well as a lot of the nearby wildlife. This does not stop the hunter from feeding his village. What does is the river being contaminated, causing the rest of the village to go sick and the main character to be the only hunter left standing. In desperation, the hunter goes to another nearby settlement for food. When he's turned down, due to them also being scant on resources, he attacks them and steals all their food, only to learn when he gets back to his village that it's too late. His wife and child have succumbed to illness just minutes before.

Mad with grief, he attacks the village that refused them, justifying his grief with the logic that if they had given him their food, he would have gotten back in time to save his family. The massacre he leads is only halted when he learns of a demon who might have caused this to happen. In despair, he hunts down and kills the demon, but the blood on his hands causes him to become the new Lord of Dark.

#live a live #live a live 2 #live a live spoilers #first thoughts #ailing writes

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tetsunabouquet · 1 year

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Basic Instinct Chapter 14

A/N: Well, you know what you're in for at this point. Fujioka is pulling his hero cape on, be prepared.

Fujioka had decided to summon the other servants who had been hired under the Kaneshiro name, Umemiya the assistant chef and chambermaid Yuuki. He needed them for his plan. Now was the time to rescue Seijuro and unleash a war. But then again, didn't Masaomi already unleash the war by taking away Seijuro's life in the first place? Fujioka waited nearby the stables. he knew Masaomi was suspicious of him the most right now, so it would be best to converse his plan away from the man's ears. He could see the two walking towards him. Yuuki was a relatively young maid, being in her mid-thirties. Rima had hired her to take care of Shiori and to file in reports on her health when she started getting sick. Rima wanted her own people to report to her, not Masaomi's servants. Yuuki had stuck around out of pity towards young Seijuro. Assistant-chef Umemiya had been hired in the aftermath of Shiori's death. When replacing her in the kitchen, Masaomi had forgotten to hire an assistant for their new chef. Lady Rima had again stepped in. They technically also had Tamamura Anna, the head of the cleaning ladies. She had been assigned to cleaning Shiori's room when she was just a little girl, and was older then any of the servants in the Akashi household. To Fujioka, she seemed ancient and to never be effected by her old age. It was almost something magical, which is why, when she went on one of her rare vacation trips last month, some of the younger servants were gossiping that,"'the old crone is undoubtedly going to kill some young kids to steal their youth. As how else does she do it?"' Fujioka had to inform her after he had taken care of everything. The old bat was even more loyal to the Kaneshiro clan then he was Umemiya smiled hesitantly at him. "Hey, we got your message." "It has to do with young Seijuro-sama, isn't it?!" Yuuki stressed, looking like an agitated bird. Panic at the unfolding events had definitely struck her. "Yes. It is obvious, it cannot continue on like this. We need to interfere. Now." Fuijioka answered, and Umemiya ran a hand through his long, luscious black hair. "Well, what are you planning?" "Calling on Rima-sama won't be enough. We need to move him to his grandmother's, tonight." "Rim-" Umemiya quickly clamped his hand for Yuuki's hand, before she could squeak the name. Though it was clear he was also shaken by the suggestion. Moving Seijuro to his grandmother would certainly not go by without any drama. He did not want to be caught in Masaomi's and Rima's crossfire, that's for sure. "How are you going about that without getting someone killed?" Umemiya asked. "That depends on how well my plan is executed. Masaomi doesn't trusts me at the moment, so Yuuki, you need to deliver the message for Seijuro to pack a small bag for himself, only necesseties. Umemiya, in the meantime, grab whatever belongings you have in the kitchen and prepare a car. I suggest the lotus, it's at the back. Barely anyone goes there, Masaomi has used that car only twice in the decade he's owned it. In the meantime, I will gather my own necesseties, and I suggest you do the same after delivering the message Yuuki. Masaomi will not abandon his strict night routine for anything, he didn't even after Shiori's passing. Once he's off to bed, we're gone." Umemiya slowly nodded and Yuuki gulped but nodded furiously. "It's time to save the young master," said Umemiya as a grin broke out on his face.

Yuuki left as she was told, hurrying up the stairs. She could hear the painful cries coming from Seijuro's room, and her heart broke. 'that poor boy. How can his father treat him so terribly?' She entered the room, and she saw him sprawled on the bed, both his pupils and sclera bright red, his cheeks pink from the tears. "Don't cry Seijuro-sama," she rushed to his bed. "Fujioka-san has a plan. We're taking you to your grandmother's." Seijuro looked at her with a dumbfounded expression. "Grandma Rima?" "Yes. Pack a small bag, necesseties only. We will help you live the life you want, so please don't cry. Your father won't win, I promise." Seijuro didn't knew wether he wanted to laugh or cry more but he did as he was asked. Desperate he was, not the be parted from his friends. But he was even more desperate, not the be parted from you.

#knb #kuroko's basketball #akashi #akashi seijuro #basic instinct #knb x reader #akashi masaomi #fujioka to the rescue #running away #akashi x reader #akashi seijuurou x reader

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weebsinstash · 2 years

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Why did I... Why did I kinda sorta imagine Erasermic the entire time with that one Emperor x Empress Reader x Male Concubine concept. Like. Aizawa as the Emperor and Hizashi as the concubine? Oomph.

Ok so this is definitely not the response you were looking for but when I was reading that Professor Venomous fic the other day WHICH SIDENOTE IS NOW LIVING IN MY HEAD RENT FREE BY THE WAY

(If you've never heard this man's voice before let me assure you yes the creators ARE trying to make you horny on purpose)

Anyways I was reading that fic and it reminded me how I would watch OK KO and I would think of a sort of reader insert character whatever always kind of popping in and out and sarcastically teasing people or making smart ass remarks towards Venomous and Boxman while they try and fail at villainy and go about their goofy antics and such and I suddenly had that epiphany of "oh wait isn't that just kind of the dynamic i liked about Erasermic, one of them is goofy and weird and the hot one is dark haired and more composed and all growly and shit" because I mean

like am I having a stroke or do they not have similar energy, like for the love of God BOXMAN AND VENOMOUS LITERALLY GET FUCKING MARRIED (seriously go watch OK KO its actually good though) and also they're both canon bi/pan btw, but like. Is this just the point in my life where I'm being horny for goofy ass weird men or moving towards a phase where I'm more attracted to narrative potential other than outright physical appearance at least in terms of writing things 👀 who knows

That being said I've been thinking of that concubine and emperor x reader idea and idk who I would use in terms of if I substituted characters, it might be fun to go more original, idk.

I thought of this idea of like, what sort of events could be that stereotypical "i didn't even fucking do anything and you're blaming me" and I thought of like, if the male concubine is so incredibly clingy and dying for reader's approval, imagine she catches him like bullying/horribly punishing a servant for a dumb reason and chews him out for him and has him escorted out of her palace and shuts the gates, and he just waits kneeling and calling out for her begging to be let back in, and Reader just completely ignores him because if she can't outright pubish him as the beloved concubine she can at least remove him from her little manor so he won't hurt her servants. And I imagine she tells the guards and other workers to completely ignore him because SURELY he'll eventually leave, right?

Except it starts pouring rain and you get a bad feeling and you rush outside and HE'S STILL THERE, ALL THESE HOURS LATER, SOAKING WET AND SHIVERING. So now fuck, you have to bring him in, and the whole time he's like "I knew you would come for me" and like little pathetic simping shit that makes it obvious he doesn't care about the punishment if he even realized it was one at all and he's just all but purring you pulled him out of the rain because, oh poor thing can't you see he is just cold and shivering? 🥺 is he one of those psychos who would hurt himself for your attention? Maybe, actually, if it works 😩 but of course the stupid little twunk is sick now with a horrible fever and of course who else but the Emperor is showing up "you had him kneel out in the cold until he fell ill? How heartless are you?" When it's like NO HE'S THE ONE WHO DECIDED TO STAY OUT THERE and I imagine the Emperor gives some sort of punishment like "well if you want to be left alone so badly then I suppose you won't need to leave your palace or receive guests for the rest of the season"

Reader has her hands full with all these conniving obsessive little shits 😩

#sinprompts #yandere stuff

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blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk · 1 year

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Alister interested in a servant working st the phantomhive mansion and won't relent.

he's so annoying lol but we love him XD

Oh, the man is a fucking pest to begin with. As if there was any doubt. He visits Ciel’s estate for the most asinine of reasons so that he has an excuse to see (Name), and he’s an absolute hindrance to them and the other servants doing their jobs. He is constantly in the way as he tries to get their attention or give them gifts. It would be a miracle if the entire household isn’t well and sick of him within a week of his attempts at courting this poor worker.

Speaking of gifts, has (Name) ever seen any more useless, strange, ostentatious things in their whole life than the presents he gives them? Some of them might be romantic and beautiful, but they’re all either over-the-top or aren’t things that this servant would have any use for. A new gown or suit? They obviously don’t attend balls unless they’re working, so they have no event to wear it to. Is he going to invite a lowly servant to a ball just so they can model it for him? (Wait, no, don’t give him ideas.) A ‘promise’ ring that’s ornate enough to have multiple inlaid stones? Well, although it’s very pretty, it catches on fabric or other things while they’re using their hands to go about their duties, so it interferes with their work. Even if he thought about what kind of stones or colors they’d like, did he think about the practical part of it? Of course not. They end up with a drawer full of gifts, or gifts shoved under their bed, because he’s given them so much junk they can’t use.

He just wants them to give him a chance! For whatever unfathomable reason, it doesn’t register to him that he’s making a nuisance of himself and that (Name) might prefer to be left alone. It doesn’t hit him that they might be worried his incessant pursuit of them will be annoying to their master and lead to Ciel dismissing them from service. Regardless of how realistic that fear is, (Ciel’s staff turnover is laughably low), they’re still anxious about it. They try very hard to ignore Aleister’s advances, hoping that will dissuade him from continuing to pop into the estate uninvited.

Finally, he sort of corners them during one of Ciel’s parties. There they are, working away, and then… there he is, sweeping them off their feet, onto the dance floor. He comes over with the excuse of getting a glass of champagne or wine or whatever from the tray they’re carrying. Before they know it, he’s somehow managed to grab the tray, set it down somewhere, and capture them in a dance. Imagine a finely dressed noble waltzing among the rest of high society, with his partner being a servant who’s dressed like a servant and who clearly wasn’t expecting to be spun around tonight. It’s almost funny, how much of a shit he doesn’t give about what’s going on around them or who’s saying what about them behind their backs. All he cares about is that he has a romantic moment with them, at long last.

Well, they can’t very well just ignore him anymore after that little stunt. So the next time he shows up at the manor, their master has graciously allowed them to handle it; if they want him to throw The Right Honourable Viscount Druitt out on his arse and forbid him from entering the property again (or at least try to), he’ll order Sebastian to do so happily. But if they want to speak to the bastard, that’s at their discretion. They practically greet him at the door, pulling him into some reasonably isolated enclave to have a discussion. “Alright, Lord Chamber. You have my attention.” “Do I, now? That’s all I’ve been after.” “… Yes, well. Now that you have my attention, if you’re going to do anything with it, get it over with so I may return to my duties in peace.”

This is, of course, followed by Aleister seizing the opportunity the only way he can think to do so ― by taking them in his arms and giving them a passionate kiss. He has to take the opportunity whilst he has it, doesn’t he? With any luck, the sudden push will make him charming instead of irritating, and… hopefully (Name) will want to see him again. Maybe he’ll learn how to behave himself better, in time.

#twilightlover2007 #Black Butler #Kuroshitsuji #Aleister #Aleister Chamber #headcanons #romantic #drama #not quite enemies to lovers but??#I'mma whack him with a stick and give him some good sense XD #one hell of a queue

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apihtawtoussaint · 5 months

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The History of Arda (Very serious)

Part 2 (nisô)

So, where we left off, a bunch of the Ainur went off with their sheet music and blueprints to create Arda.

Being whispy divine things, they didn't inherently have physical forms. But they'd make some for the looks, for the drama. They would also vibe out a gender, and I've decided to interpret that far more progressively than I imagine Tolkien meant it.

Now we have to take a second to do the Deuteronomy thing and list everyone.

Of the Ainur, the big guys were called the Valar and the teeny ones were the Maiar. The 8 government workers of the Valar were called the Aratar. They were the Named Characters. Also, angels, spirits, Abrahamic theology, whatever. If it looks like a pantheon and sounds like a pantheon, it might just be a pantheon.

The Aratar were: Manwë, Varda, Ulmo, Yavanna, Aulë, Mandos, Nienna, and Oromë. But there were a few others that were also important enough for names.

Manwë Sulimo was the Zeus guy, sky god. The Eagles were his servants; they may or may not have been Maiar depending on when you asked Tolkien. Eru Ilùvatar just gave him the job of main bitch. Melkor was his brother, but they weren't close. He was married to Varda. Because sky. That'll make sense soon.

Aulë, man, he was the best of them, he had a hand in the worst of them.

Pros: created the Dwarves!!

God of earth and smithing and such.

Has an odd amount of influence over beards.

Cons: Both Sauron and Saruman started as his Maiar.

He was the patron of the Noldor Elves. Which sort of led to Feänor creating the silmarils.

He married Yavanna, because dirt.

Ulmo was unbothered by the nonsense the others had going on. In his lane, moisturized. He was god of water, oceans, rains, puddles, etc. He likes to just chill in the ocean, mostly. He doesn't even put on a physical form mostly. Comfy guy.

Elven sea longing does come from the sound of his horn, though. So just, like, let him be.

Oromë was the Athena coded one. Big hunter man, super into horses. He had this sick ass horse called Nahar, who was Shadowfax's grandpapa.

Nessa was his sister, and Vána his wife. I don't have a good quip about that; it's just true.

Mandos, which is actually his nickname his government name is Námo, was god of the dead and the doomsman. Not so much in that he doomed men, but he just had prophecies (fate=doom) and was ride or die for his aesthetic.

Technically, Mandos is the name of his halls, where the dead people live.

He is in a fun little goth sibling trifecta with Lórien and Nienna, and married to Vairë. Because fiber arts.

Lórien, similar to his brother was name of his lands but people called him that. But his legal name was Irmo, so I understand not going with that. Dream! He's the dream guy. His gardens double as a wellness retreat and longterm care center that he runs with his wife, Estë.

Tulkas, late to the party, was not among the OGs. He didn't show up until 1,500 Valian years (~14,373 solar years) after the creation of Arda. He heard that there was some fighting going down and he just had to get in on that shit. And then he married Nessa.

Varda Elentári, the most revered by the Elves. She's into stars, and more broadly light and light sources. She would have made an excellent lighting designer for theatre.

What's she done? Well, only all the stars, the Lamps, and the Sun and Moon! (Not in that order) She was super hot and had mad beef with Melkor even before they started the whole universe creation project.

Yavanna Kementári, the queen of the earth! Gardener, botanist, plants rights activist. She also led to the creation of the Ents when she complained to Eru Ilùvatar that all the other sentient things liked to chop down trees. And if Aulë gets his fucking Dwarves, she should get at least something.

She also did the Two Trees, of course.

Nienna, grief, despair, crying all the time. She also does therapy work at her brother's halls for the dead elves waiting to get reimbodied. Very important work, a lot of them were killed in not fun ways. Or too fun ways.

Estë, the lady of rest, potentially nocturnal as she apparently spent most days napping in her husband's gardens. But when she's up, she's a doctor, she's a psychiatrist, she was really the main source of healthcare in Aman.

Vairë, the weaver, fiber artist extraordinaire. She liked to make these cool tapestries of pretty much everything that ever had happened. Which is a lot of things. She would decorate the Halls of Mandos with them, so I imagine they were very cozy.

Vána! Vána was sure there... look, in earlier drafts she was way more important but that didn't survive until publishing. So, she liked flowers and was youthful. That's Vána.

Nessa, damn, it's even worse that Vána. What do we know about Nessa? She could run fast and was a good dancer. I like to imagine that she and Vána had lots of intense adventures we just don't know about.

Of course, Melkor also travelled with the squad to Arda but he was very unhelpful. In the early days be would be like a big volcano mountain guy and destroy everything the others tried to build. And he'd seduce their Maiar away and make them into Balrogs!

Early Arda was a series of wars between him and the other Valar until Tulkas came down to throw hands, to make some shapes.

Here's a summary:

And those are the Valar! Yay!

Next, we go into a few Maiar, and getting into the Spring of Arda. Get ready for some big ass lamps!!

Part 1

#lotr #silmarillion #creation of arda #do I hyperfocus?#why do you ask?#valaquenta

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goronska · 2 years

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My OCs - Setia

[masterlist]

This is the most complicated blorbo of mine, and also the most challenging to write. I love you, little blonde bean of mine.

Ilustrated by AI and picrew:

Setia (formely known as Setia Khachaturyan) [approximately 40, he/him, pansexual, human, Armenian, now based in Vermillion]

Coming from Vermillion's neighbouring state of Armenia, Setia is the son of its 5th and incumbent president, Vahagn Khachaturyan, born in Yerevan where his father later stayed on a position of the city mayor.

Raised in highly intellectual and democratic surroundings, Setia as a young man goes to the Vermillian border to negotiate in an armed conflict. There he is facet with Larat but "no one was in the room where it happens". As far as we all know, he was beaten in a direct fight and taken as a slave with no pardon, back to capital, to the royal palace.

His past 20 years, along with a short initial exchange over the phone with his father, being stripped of his surname, and having to wear his collar constantly, saw Setia's rise to power.

Knowing when to keep his mouth shut, when to speak up, when to sweet talk and when to unzip his pants, he made friends left and right, pushing him and Larat higher on the social ladder. She became the general of the army, he became the only servant on the Council, and the right hand to the royal family, helping them raise Merah, too.

(Setia when brought to the palace)

His friendship with Larat throughout the years is bordering romance but nobody has ever seen Setia devoted to anyone. His overflowing blonde hair (he has a ban on cutting them as a slave male on the royal orders) and careful eyes know how to take care of someone, but not really how to take. It's really hard to say what he thinks, because he keeps so much to himself, being a discreet, but verocious servant.

Seeing his dad rising to power, first as a Minister of High Tech Industry in 2021, and then the President in 2022, Setia starts making some more pressing moves. His love to Vermillion (but is it really to the country?) is unwavering, and he would do what it takes to push it into a new era of gender equality and slavery abolition.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, he is the first person to come in contant with the Eodum deity and he swore his endless devotion in exchange for Eodum's help in pushing his agenda. The plan so far doesn't run as smoothly as the two would expect, but they press on. When Ubisi learns about this, she sends Red Sickness on him, in an attempt to make him into an example, and if not for Life's intervation he would be dead by now.

And he's in the middle of a really serious situation, because the Queen, after death of Garura, viciously appointed him her next husband, out of probably spite.

His personality is best observed when he interacts with others, as he is a hell of a mess, and his motives are rarely clear or obvious, making him a person some confide in, yet others despise and are constantly on edge when around him. He indeed can command respect, and he could even as a slave.

Larat is the most murky one, they definitely slept together, went to drink together outside of palace, they know each other best from all of the OCs in Vermillion. What bonded them so and how is unknown, but one would get killed over the other, even though it doesn't manifest itself in formal situations (like the Council punishing Larat for getting involved with Florence - and he would see Queen's verdict to the T, if he had to). They were the ones putting the whole Eodum mess in motion.

Princess Merah also once or twice landed in bed with him, but mostly friendzones Setia and loves him as the best uncle she never had (which yes, weird). She is not smart enough to undestand any of his manipulativeness.

Next person on his list would be Adam, who being a somewhat younger slave, motivates Setia to go through with his plans of freeing as many people as he can. Just not yet. Adam being his personal servant looks up to him in all waves and from a defiant slave of Lady Shiroi, transforms into a dutiful left hand to the future King, loving every bit of attention and protectiveness Setia has over the man.

Setia couldn't be understood without his ties to Eodum. The bratty demi-god had to be offered something to help with the vision of equal Vermillion. The only thing Setia could offer, because he owned it completely at that time, was himself. Since then, he spends hours on end every night (but around 5 minutes of time on Earth) in the Inbetween realm, getting forcefully obliterated by Eodum in blind submission. After the ordeal, Eodum knowing how each bruise and cut was dealt - he heals Setia by carefully reversing time on each wound, becoming a better and better healer in the process. It turns out later, that this is the only kind of attention Setia can take on - one violently imposed on him, hurting him. Even when Eodum is pretty confident in his skills, Setia will come back for more.

This circle of pain kind of closes on Queen Merahtua, who suspecting a coup rising in her own palace, tricks Setia to join her as the King upon becoming a widow. Their toxic relationship on one hand gets the brilliant public side where they always agree, never argue, and do what's best for the country, and their private life with barely any speaking, silent dinners together and Setia using her in the bedroom, as he feels disgusted by having to be there and taking it all on her. Whether she truely enjoys it (being dominated for the first time in her royal life, and by an ex-slave to that), or he is just waiting for him to take it a step too far so she can frame him, remains unknown as of yet.

Her step-granddautgher, future queen Jennifer, also plays a cruel game of chess with Setia. Despite having similar goals for the country, their personal goals don't align much and both of them try to be one step ahead of the other. Their informants and allies sometimes even serve both of them, and when their paths cross, they are on high alert. Setia deeply understands her cold, calculating movements and holds her in the highest of respects, because he finds an equally good player in her, Jennifer being half his age, and maybe his successor. She on the other hand knows, he was always the most powerful figure of the last decade in Vermillion, a type of a shadow cabinet figure, wants to keep him in check, but squeeze everything useful from him, as the time progresses and her coronation is getting closer.

Probably there is no right answer to the question whether Setia is a positive character or not. He has his devotions, and would fight much more subtly than nail and tooth to make sure the lesser evil (at least, in his opinion) is achieved for everyone involved. But he is a realist, he knows there is never a good ending and he can just minimize the loses. Fear people like Setia. Because they just might know what they want from you.

#my OCs #Setia #whump OC #future King #it's complicated #fear #my best bean uwu

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innawtitebook · 2 years

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Hacker of shower.

Life is a game. Play it the way you want, not the player who hacked you. So they said in childhood to little Johnny, the future ruler of the United States. But only this morning, sipping coffee from a golden cup, sitting in an armchair covered with a rich cape made of exquisite overseas fabrics, he realized that he had been hacked several years ago.

He was twirling a ring on his finger, whose stone gave off a bright emerald glow, from which even the walls sparkled with green light. John F. Kennedy drew attention to its unusual detail: gears were barely noticeably spinning on the tire, which seemed to be painted. He looked more closely at the shape of the ring. Female. Suddenly, the president's eyes widened in surprise: the countdown began on the emerald: sixty minutes. He rubbed his eyes, hoping inwardly that he had imagined all this because of the difficult work schedule and lack of sleep, but alas, the countdown on the ring did not want to disappear: 55, 54, 53…

In a panic, he began to recall everything that had happened yesterday, and events began to be displayed in his memory with frenzied force, like a confused movie: he visited the school of aerospace medicine, then spoke at Rice University. But strange events happened at a banquet in honor of a member of the U.S. House of Representatives: a little away from the main banquet, he saw a running man dressed in a black tailcoat with long, fluttering tails. The president frowned: he hadn't seen him before. He wanted to stop him and ask who he was and why he was running around such an important and rich place, but before he could blink, the stranger disappeared right before his eyes. The ring that John Kennedy took for himself was left on the floor.

After he took the ring in his hands, suddenly terrible thoughts flashed in his head by themselves: he does not make decisions of his own free will! All the laws that he issued in America, all the proposals, all the contracts, as if he did not draw up. He's just another pawn in someone's big game. Someone knows all his moves in advance, his thoughts.

And this morning it finally dawned on him: he was being manipulated like a puppet. It was hacked.

So he sat, thinking, in his office, so big and spacious, but for some reason it was there that he felt like the loneliest person on Earth.

There was a knock on the door:

'Mr. Kennedy, it's time for you', - his devoted servant, as always, reminded him that he had to go out. Everything is normal. Everything is as it should be. Only that same slippery, sticky thought did not give the president rest, she dug her claws into his skin and apparently was not going to remove them, at least until the end of this hard day.

He sighed noisily and once again looked around his vast office, and when the servant disappeared through the door, he had a strange feeling that he was seeing him for the last time. Shaking his head nervously, in an attempt to get rid of this terrible thought and straightening his perfectly ironed tie, he nevertheless overcame himself and left the office. But suddenly stopping in front of the door, for some reason he turned around and took the ring from the table, put it in a small jacket pocket.

John F. Kennedy was walking down the street with the security guards accompanying him. They, as always, did not notice the president's restless feelings and worries. They're just cold robots doing their job.

He finally climbed into the presidential motorcade, smiled tightly at his wife Jacqueline, nodded to the driver, and they drove off.

Elm Street, along which they were driving, was very sunny, palm trees quickly changed one after another, and enthusiastic citizens waved their hands, but John Kennedy could not share this fun.

He took another look at the ring that was bothering him so much and shuddered: there was one minute on the countdown timer.

Suddenly, the space in front of his eyes became noticeably dim, the president felt sick, from which he shrank into the seat of the limousine in fright. He tried to scream, but he couldn't. He was being carried away somewhere deep, and something was pressing heavily on his chest, and because of this he did not have enough breath, he greedily inhaled air with his mouth, like a fish thrown on dry land.

Suddenly everything stopped. John Kennedy looked around: he was in a very strange, but extraordinarily rich and beautiful place. The building resembled a museum. The lobby was decorated with beautiful sculptures, and the staircase that led somewhere deep inside was very luxurious, as if members of the royal family should walk on it. Paintings were hung on the sides, only they depicted not drawings by famous artists, but all the events of the world that had happened recently.

John F. Kennedy's mouth opened in a silent scream when in one of these “pictures” he saw himself, at yesterday's banquet, as he raises the ring.

He looked into the distance: at the very end of the corridor of this mysterious museum there was a huge hall with a long table, at which dozens of hooded people were sitting and whispering enthusiastically, sometimes glancing at the main one, who was sitting in the middle.

– We have to find classified documents in the archives with the help of gold!John Kennedy heard a fragment of a phrase.

"I agree with you, Guardian," the man in the scarlet hood nodded.

Suddenly, something got into John F. Kennedy's throat and he coughed.

The cloaked men all turned to him at once:

– How did he get here?The man in the silver cloak exclaimed in surprise.

"He shouldn't be here," another shook his head. - No! He'll tell everyone!

Only one person, who was sitting in the middle, was as calm as a boa constrictor.

–Liquidate," he said dully, but clearly.

The president of the states was again in the presidential motorcade, only already dead. Bullet wound to the head. Jacqueline screamed hysterically, shaking her husband, praying that he would wake up:

– John, wake up! I beg you, please!- she croaked through her tears.

But the miracle did not happen. Blood was oozing from the wound.

In the United States of America, a version of the murder was put forward, but to this day, Americans do not believe in it. Too mysterious events were taking place at those moments.

Many more rulers were killed by members of the secret government. But who knows, maybe it's all legends? But then why do the rulers of countries sometimes behave so strangely, and historical events always have hundreds of different theories...

#books #art #19 days #jaskier #interview with the vampire #the witcher #taylor swift #fanfiction writer #twisted wonderland #the dragon prince

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