#upset little squire

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — KNIGHT! GOJO x PRINCESS! FEM READER

Gojo has devoted his entire life to protecting you as your dedicated guard. A greater force is conspiring to keep you apart. 

wc — 3.7k

tags — royal au, childhood friends, forbidden love, protective Gojo, sneaking around/flouting social etiquette, period drama-esque tension between repressed princess and rakish knight, mutually possessive, title from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

part 1 of the hand which holds the knife

Everyone knew Satoru Gojo was supposed to be yours. 

You claimed him the day you knighted him. He wore your colors and answered to your demands. The physical evidence of your ownership was all over him, the way someone would mark a well loved pet. Even the neck of his jacket carried your embroidery like a collar. To anyone with eyes, he was your adored guard dog. 

When all of your memories blur into one stream of consciousness, the day you knighted him remains clear. You remember everything, including your father stealing him out from under you. 

You were the only one who truly thought he was ever going to be yours. It was part of the promise you had sworn to each other as children, playing princess and the guard with wooden swords and flower crowns. 

Looking back, you can see the gears of court machinations turning. It was no simple coincidence that the only heir to House Gojo ended up in close proximity to you, any more than any other of your introductions to sons of highborn houses. 

Gojo has no interest in pretending to be a prince. It was boring for him to be trapped in restricting uniforms complete with epaulets. He found more pleasure in protecting you from danger while you preened in your gilded cage, none the wiser through his efforts. Safe and unaware, the way he liked it. You would never have to know how dangerous the world was if he simply destroyed everything in your path before it got to you. 

You didn’t understand the way the adults looked at the two of you. All you knew was that you couldn’t bear to be apart from him. You rose each morning looking for him, and went to bed waiting for the minute you’d be reunited again. He was your whole world, your one and only friend. It was his hand that guided you through childhood adventures. He was the sword and shield that had cut down kidnappers and serpents for you. 

The first wedge in your relationship comes with his twelfth birthday. 

You chase his back through the years, watching it broaden in front of your eyes. His body changes. His voice drops. The first time you hear it after the pitchy squeaks of puberty clear from his throat, you feel the sickening wrench of something in your stomach. It had never mattered before that Gojo was a man, potentially your betrothed. 

Now it burns you to look at him. He became gorgeous while you weren’t looking, all long willowy limbs and snow white hair. The women of the court have started looking at him now. They call him the beautiful dragon, after his house crest. 

Even though you know reasonably that you can do nothing about this, really, you have no right to, that galls you. You’re a princess. You’re used to being able to deal with things that upset you with little more than a nod to Gojo. But he can’t solve issues that he’s the root of. 

The only way to show everyone that Gojo’s devotion belongs to you is to tie him to your side. At twelve, he’s already the strongest squire in the entire kingdom. Better than most knights, even. It’s a clear path to being the greatest knight of his time, throughout all of history, even. He already promised to be your sword when you were children. All you have to do is wait. 

Gojo trains and you begin to learn the extent of your royal responsibilities. Study etiquette. Marry well. Become a dutiful wife. Give the king heirs. 

Gojo becomes Lord Gojo. He calls you princess now. Although part of you rebels at the idea that he would ever call you anything other than your name, another part of you can’t help the queasy feeling you get when he says your title, low and soft. Like he means it for your ears only. Like princess is just another way of showing how much of him is yours. 

Gojo is not usually a proud man because he doesn’t have to be. His abilities speak for himself. But he’s cocky to a fault. He knows the extent of his capabilities, which means he won’t capitulate to anyone. Why would he? 

When it comes to you, however, he bends his neck and accepts the collar willingly. The strongest can only be tamed by what he allows to tame him and it’s you, it’s always been you. 

Perhaps that’s why things turn out the way they do on the day you knight him. 

Or, as you find out later, your father knights him. 

It was the day after your sixteenth birthday. Gojo himself had turned seventeen three months and six days before. It was strangely old for a boy of his caliber. He was so talented he could’ve been the youngest knight in the realm, but no one could make Gojo do something he didn’t want to do. 

There was no shame in it, either. Everyone knew Gojo was too talented and well-connected for it to be anything other than his own choice. The only heir of House Gojo, he was destined to become a knight even if he did nothing to earn it. And he had done much to earn it. 

Winning wars single handedly tended to do that. There were already legends blooming from the battlefield by the time he came home and tossed the unlucky enemy commander’s head at the king’s feat. His bow wasn’t nearly low or respectful enough to be addressed to the king, but he had been lighter-hearted back then, more willing to forgive. 

Especially for Gojo, who had cut a killing swathe through the ranks of the opposing army so ruthlessly they began to call him a god of death.

Gojo kneels at your feet, his white head still high. He’s a little too tall for you, even at this angle. Lord Commander Yaga clears his throat. Gojo looks up through the wisps of hair that have escaped to obscure his eyes. They’re piercing, an attractively violent blue. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, so low no one else could’ve heard the two of you even if you hadn’t been standing alone on the podium in front of the king’s throne. “Am I too tall for you now, princess?” 

“Don’t tease,” you whisper back, flustered despite yourself. The pommel of the sword is clammy in your grip. You’re scared to drop it and accidentally take a finger off with it. 

You’re taking too long. It’s making you anxious. You’re distinctly aware of your father’s stare boring into your back. You’ve been sheltered since you were young by your father’s paranoia, but he’s recently begun letting you apply yourself more to your royal duties. You can’t give him any reason to doubt you. 

Gojo dips a little lower. 

With this change in angle, you can place the flat of the blade on each of his shoulders. It’s your father’s sword, too large and unwieldy in your hands. Standing over Gojo is a strange experience. It’s uncomfortable looking down on someone who’s been taller than you for all your life. 

You wish he would stop looking at you like that. His gaze is searching. You feel naked underneath it, even with layers of dresses on. When he says his vows, it feels intimate, like he’s speaking them to you. For you. 

Gojo rises, shaking his hair out of his eyes like a shaggy dog. Like this, you’re reminded suddenly of how strong he is. His shoulders are broad underneath his silver armor. Lean muscle cords his legs. There’s an easy, effortless grace to the way he moves - the confidence of a man who has never been bested in his entire life. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. He’s still standing too close. If it were any other man, your father would have demanded he be whipped by now, but Gojo has always gotten away with things no one could. He ducks his head so he can speak directly into your ear - dangerous, even for him. He says his piece fast. “I’ll see you in your rooms, my lady.” 

Then he pulls back. 

There are thunderclouds gathering across the king’s face, but when you shake your head, your father relents. He smiles and kisses your temple as you climb up the steps of the platform of his throne to return the sword to him. 

Years later, you learn that the moment you leave the throne room, your shoulders sure with the knowledge that Gojo is finally secure in your grasp, your father takes up the sword you had held and knights him. Princesses have no authority to confer knighthood. Only kings. 

You know your father means well. He loves you. You’re all he has left. If Gojo pushed for your hand to be one that he swears loyalty to first, then your father would have been happy to comply either way. You just wish you would’ve known that it meant nothing. 

There’s a sharp rap on your door, followed by two short, one long. A code you had devised a long time ago. You pull open the door and Gojo all but falls into your room. He’s pressed up against you, front to front as he closes the door behind him, tumbling you into your bed. 

“Hi, princess,” he says, his breath warm against your neck. You squirm in his hold, feeling heat rush through your veins. It’s getting harder and harder to hide the way he affects you, but you don’t want anything to change between the two of you. Though sometimes, you swear Gojo likes using your title so much precisely because he knows how you react to it. 

“We have to stop doing this,” you tell him, like you tell him every time. “It’s inappropriate.” 

He groans and pushes away from you. You mourn the loss of contact. “Come on, don’t make me do this again. Who cares if it’s inappropriate? Who says?” 

“Dame Zenin thinks we’re too close.” 

“Dame Zenin is an idiot,” Gojo says. “You know she only says that because she wants to get rid of me so you’ll look at Naoya. As if you would ever, even if I was gone.” 

“Still.” 

Gojo grabs your chin in his hand. “You are a princess and I am the only heir to House Gojo. We bow to no one, understand? What right do mice have to judge dragons?”

He’s the dragon, you think. Your crest is the rose. You exist to be judged. That’s the role of a princess. 

Gojo sprawls out on your bed. He’s so tall he takes up more than half of it, even though your bed was built to be more than twice your size. His eyes are shut, his long white lashes soft. He looks gentle in repose, almost like a lamb with his coloring. 

He’s beautiful. He always is. You want to touch, to hold, to claim. You want to press your ear against his chest and steal the thunderous beat of his heart for your own. You want to press your rouged lips to his neck and collarbones, to mark his body with a muted rose. 

Instead, you sit stiff, prim and proper. 

He opens his eyes. “Come here,” he says, his arm reaching for you. You let him pull you closer. 

As always, he has to reach out first. You can’t allow yourself to take what you want. It’s not in your nature, the way you were raised. 

You bury your face into the space between his neck and his shoulder. 

“There we go,” he coos. Your face burns with the condescension of it, the way he treats you like an animal that has to be carefully coaxed closer. But he’s not wrong, and that’s why you let him pet you into submission, gently stroking your sides as he tangles his legs with yours. 

You were never so affected by him as children. Somewhere along the way, Gojo had become unmanageable to you, and you don’t know what to do about it. 

“Stay with me,” he murmurs against your hair. “Where are you going off to in that pretty head of yours?” 

“I’m with you,” you whisper against his neck. “I’m always here.” 

You’ve spoiled him, you think. When you were a child, you didn’t know any better. Gojo was just Gojo. Letting him stay by your side even as you got older was an indulgence that he now pushes the limits of. He’s never cared about propriety. 

“You have to go back to your room now,” you whisper reluctantly. You’re always the more cautious one of your duo. It’s been too long. Someone will become suspicious. For once, you wish you could just let go of your worries, but someone has to check Gojo. If both of you just did whatever you wanted, it’d be the ruin of your houses. This is how it has to be: Gojo pushes and you pull back. 

The dim light of the dying candles make his blue eyes appear black. “Give me something of yours first,” he says. 

You know what he’s asking for. You climb up from the bed and go into your dresser to search, turning up one of your handkerchiefs. It bears the colors of your house and your careful embroidery.

He kneels at your feet. 

“Stop,” you say, trying to pull away. 

Gojo presses a kiss to your hand. His lips are soft against the skin of your hand, temptation incarnate. Your fingers tremble lightly in his grasp, torn between wanting to seize him and wanting to run away. The enormity of your desire for him terrifies you. If you ever let him in for one second, you can see how easy your descent would be. 

“I’m yours, princess. Don’t forget it.” 

With that, he ties your favor around his wrist and finally leaves you to your room, panting like you’d run through the halls. No matter how old you get, Gojo always leads in your interactions. He plays with you, enjoying the way he can make you react to him. 

It’s normal for a princess to visit the training yard, you try to convince yourself the next day. There’s nothing strange about stopping by while you’re on your afternoon walk. After all, you should keep abreast of everything within your castle. 

Gojo stands in the center of the yard. He’s demonstrating one of his self created drills, a complicated set of maneuvers only he can pull off. In short, he’s showing off while pretending like he’s doing the class a favor by trying to teach them something. 

Lord Commander Yaga notices you the moment you set foot in the yard. You should expect it. After all, it’s his territory. 

“Attention,” he bellows. “The princess is here.” 

Gojo perks up and finishes his final set of movements even faster. He throws his sword carelessly to the side, leaving a young squire scrambling to catch the priceless weapon as he strides towards you. 

He’s a little sweaty. You want to wrap your arms around him anyways, but you restrain yourself. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” you say. 

Gojo grins at you. It’s a sharp thing, his smile, hungry and wolfish. “Not at all. I was just thinking of you, my lady.” 

You tilt your head at him curiously. 

Around you, the men are scrambling to line up into neat little rows. 

“I’m picking a squire,” Gojo says. “Would you like to make the decision for me?” 

It’s a question that shocks you. You whirl to look at him again, see if he’s joking like usual, but he seems perfectly serious. “I don’t know anything about knighthood,” you tell him the truth. 

He moves closer. You’re tempted to step back immediately, but you don’t. You don’t want a sign of discomfort to be misinterpreted and used against him. Besides, you relish the proximity. Seeing Gojo in public feels like dancing on blades. The adrenaline terrifies you, but you can’t stop wanting more of it. 

“You may not, but you know people. I trust your judgement.” 

A cursory scan of the boys in front of you reveals little. They’re all stiff and proper, their backs as straight as they can make them. Some stand with their arms glued to their sides, others fidget with their swords. Every single one of them is eager for the chance to be acknowledged by the princess. They’re equally hopeful for the chance to squire for the greatest knight in the kingdom.

None of them catch your eye on the first or second passes. 

Only on the third, a boy with pink hair smiles at you. It’s such a small gesture. But for a boy who had looked just like everyone else at first, the toothy smile splits his features. It opens him up. He looks kind. 

You gesture him forward. 

Lord Commander Yaga nods approvingly. “Itadori is a good one, Your Royal Highness. He’s one of the best in this batch. Naturally strong, but just as hardworking.” 

“See,” Gojo says. “I knew you would choose well.” 

He touches your hand briefly, slipping a white scrap of paper inside your closed fist before he grabs Itadori by the shoulder and hauls him off for further training. Although disappointed, the other squires still look starstruck to be in his presence, though Yaga disperses them all to train themselves soon enough. 

In elegant cursive, Gojo has written a time and place. 

You shouldn’t go. 

You can’t risk it. 

All eyes are on you and Gojo as it is. People already suspect the two of you of something unsavory. Courtly love is one thing, but you and Gojo are too close for an unmarried man and a woman. As a princess, your sole purpose is to marry well and bring alliances to your house. You can’t risk damaging your reputation. 

But every stolen encounter with Gojo steals your breath away. You sneak through the halls, quiet and empty. 

A hand slaps over your mouth before you can scream as someone tugs you into a dark corridor. 

You kick and lash out, forgetting everything Gojo has taught you in favor of blind violence. 

“Shh,” comes a voice in your ear. “It’s just me.” 

You bite him. 

He hisses and pulls back, shaking out his hand. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Why would you do that? You scared me!” 

“You’re not careful enough, princess. There was a maid coming up on your left that you hadn’t even noticed.” 

You sigh and lean into him. You can’t help it. 

He laughs. “Are you that happy to see me?” 

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll show you exactly how happy I am.��� 

“Come on,” he tugs you out towards the gardens. It’s dangerous, but you follow him anyway. Being with Gojo is so threatening not despite his strength, but because of it. You rely on him too easily, trusting him to see you safely through any peril. It’s easy to relax when he’s with you, his presence the promise of security. 

You expect him to tell you why he called you here, but he’s silent when he tugs you down on the bench next to him. 

“Gojo?” 

“Here,” he says, opening his hands. A single crushed violet sits on his palm. You laugh, picking it up and raising to your eye. It’s all the more fragrant because it has been mangled, the delicate petals bruised. 

Gojo’s mouth lifts in a smile, too. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize.” 

“You really know how to win a girl’s heart,” you tease. 

“Hopefully I know how to win over her father’s, too.”

You freeze. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t wait any longer. I’m going to ask your father to be your dedicated knight tomorrow. Do I have your permission?” 

You hesitate, worrying your lip with your teeth, but Gojo understands. Years of watching after you, bandaging your scrapes that you refuse to cry over or avenging your honor after you pretend your pride hasn’t been hurt has taught him a lot. He can see right through you. You never need to hide when you’re with him. 

“It’s alright,” he says. “We can wait.” 

“It’s not that I don’t want you to be my guard,” you say in a small voice. “I just-” 

“I know,” he says. “But I’m the strongest. Who else would your father ask to protect you but me?” 

“Do you think he’ll say yes?” 

Gojo looks at you seriously. “I’ll get down on both knees and beg him if I have to.” 

“Don’t do that,” you gasp. 

“I don’t care,” he says. “You’re what’s most important to me. More than pride, more than honor. Can I ask your father for you?” 

You look at the crushed violet in your hand. 

Who else but Gojo? 

You press the flower back into his palm. “I trust you to do what’s right.” 

His eyes soften. He leans closer. 

“Gojo,” comes a voice. “What are you doing in the gardens this late at night?” 

You stiffen. The owner of the voice is drawing closer.

“Do you trust me?” Gojo asks, as cool and collected as ever. 

You nod, not trusting your voice not to give you away. He cups your face in his hands and ever so delicately presses a light kiss to your cheek, tilting his head towards you. 

“Stop,” he tells the man behind you. “Don’t come any closer. You’ll scare her.” 

“A new plaything?” Asks the Lord Commander. “I’m not so scary, am I?” 

Gojo notices you tremble harder. He lifts a hand to the back of your head and presses it gently towards his shoulder, obscuring your face even further. “Come here, darling,” he murmurs. “That’s right, what a good little thing,” he says as you press yourself into him. He pulls you over his lap, your legs straddling his waist as he runs his hand up and down your back. “Keep your head down,” he whispers to you. You tuck your face farther into the crook of his neck. 

Louder, he responds to Yaga. “The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is a terrifying man, or so I’ve heard.” 

“Just escort her to her room when you’re done,” Yaga says gruffly. “I don’t need to tell you to be a gentleman, do I?” 

“No, sir,” Gojo says cheerfully. 

In hindsight, you’re still not sure if Yaga recognized you or not. On one hand, he’s known you since you were a child. He watched, a silent guard, as your father raised you. On the other hand, he’s never brought it up to you. 

The only other reason you suspect he realized who you really were was Gojo’s induction into the kingsguard the very next day. 

[beenbaanbuun]

brothers best friend pt 2 w/ jeong yunho

part 1

so i forgot to pause my queue and you’re getting this a day early… whoops

yunho looks so massive towering above you like that

there’s an unfamiliar look on his face, cheeks flushed, lips parted, nostrils flared, and you can’t help but feel a little nervous under his watchful gaze

maybe he’s angry, but you can’t think of anything you’d done to upset him

hell, you’d fallen asleep pretty much as soon as he told you to! its like you could’ve—

oh fuck… the dream

you sit up as quick as humanly possible, any semblance of sleepiness slipping away as you realise exactly why he’s looking at you like that

like you’ve just committed the greatest crime known to man

you can’t look at him, embarrassment and guilt flowing through you like blood

“yun, i—” he cuts you off with a shush

it confuses you for just a second or two; surely he’d give you the chance to explain your self right?

it’s hardly like you deserve to have that chance, perverted little slut

but still, yunho is a nice enough guy; he’ll let you try and wriggle your way out of it… won’t he?

“yunho, i can ex—” again, you’re cut off with a sharp shush

you whimper in response as the tears that begin to gather along your lash line turn his silhouette blurry

“i don’t need an explanation from you,” he speaks softly, “i don’t want one, either. i don’t think it would change anything, do you?”

his face is still set in stone, eyes steely as they stare you down

it only makes you feel even more pathetic, like a child being scolded for making a mess

you wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how he saw you; nothing more than his friends kid sister making a mess of things again

you’re always making a mess of things…

your eyes begin to burn with tears

“why are you getting upset, sweetheart?” yunho asks from above you, voice stern and commanding and nothing like the teasing tone he usually uses with you

“it’s embarrassing,” you sniffle, trying your hardest to stop your voice from wavering under the influence of your tears, “i’m sorry.”

he hums, nodding slightly as though he’s seriously mulling over your apology

as if he’s actually considering accepting it…

its cruel, making you wait for your judgement as if he’s not going to end up kicking you out at the end of it all

maybe you were wrong about him being a kind man…

“why is it embarrassing?” he hums, and your heart sinks just a little further

great; he’s going to humiliate you before kicking you out

your eyes meet his, begging for just a little mercy

he doesn’t seem to waver, eyes still icy and face still wearing that unreadable expression

“yunho,” you whisper, mentally preparing yourself to beg for forgiveness

he shakes his head, a hum of disapproval leaving his lips, “tell me, honey; why are you embarrassed?”

and just like that the dam breaks, your chin wobbling as a long keen leaves the back of your throat

the first tear rolls down your cheek, swiftly followed by a second

yunho catches them with his thumbs

“tell me…”

you suck in a shaky breath, forcing it out through your pursed lips

it doesn’t really help to soothe you like you thought it would…

“i had a wet dream about you,” your voice is so timid and small… you’re pathetic

“yes, you did,” yunho agrees, “but i hardly think that’s a good reason for all this fuss, hm?”

you can’t quite make out the tone of his voice

it almost sounds affectionate under that thick layer of condescension that only ever comes out when he’s talking to you

“after all, you didn’t see me crying when i was thinking all those dirty thoughts about you crawling into my bed…”

what?

your jaw hangs slack as you let his words soak in

he has to be teasing you, right?

“your pretty pussy was showing through your shorts, baby, but you didn’t even realise, hm?”

he takes your chin in his hand, forcefully snapping your mouth shut

“you were clenching around nothing,” his pink tongue swipes over his bottom lip, “practically begging for me to fill you up and you didn’t even realise.”

you squirm, everything he does working against you and your barely intact sanity

his words that he says so nonchalantly as if you’re not utterly filthy

his hand that remains firmly on your chin, his thumb dancing back and forth along your jawline

that damned tongue that he can’t seem to keep inside of his mouth for more than a second

you can’t help it when you whimper; after all, he’s the only one to blame

“yuyu,” you sound as pathetic as you feel, but you don’t have the brain power to feel humiliated, “please do something…”

he smiles down at you

“do something?” he asks, “like what, honey? you’re going to have to be more specific if you want yuyu to do what you want.”

the sound of him teasing you so effortlessly goes straight to your cunt, and you clench your thighs around nothing

it doesn’t help ease the ache between them at all

in fact all it does is smear your wetness over your thighs, leaving you with a sticky, uncomfortable mess

you desperately need something more; some friction to ease that ache in your clit and something inside of you to fill up your empty hole

and there’s yunho, your brothers best friend, standing above you looking like a fucking god

that’s all you need to push you over the edge

“yunho, please fuck me,” you whine, bringing a hand up to rest upon his wrist

your fingers wrap around it, tugging softly until his grip slips from your jaw

you drag it down, heading lower and lower until his hand catches on the duvet that still rests over your lower half

and then you stop, passing the proverbial ball to him; it’s in his court now and whatever happens next is up to him

whether he fucks you or not… it’s his choice

but you have no time to worry about what might not come to pass when he grabs the covers and tosses them to the side

his eyes hone in on those fucking shorts, and he swears he can feel his cock jump in his shorts

fucking hell, they’re practically see through with just how wet you are

he can see everything and what a delight that is

your pretty little pussy, wet and waiting for him to ruin it with his fingers, his cock, him cum

he needs so badly to see the real thing

“these damn shorts, baby,” he groans as he hooks his fingers over the waist band and tugs, “i might just have to keep them, if that’s okay with you?”

his words make your pussy clench, a sight that has him humming in appreciation

“i take that as a yes?” he tugs them down over your thighs, wasting no time in stripping your bottom half bare and tucking your shorts in the pocket of his pants.

with your glistening hole now exposed to him, he wastes no time in getting on his knees at the bottom of the bed

at first he just watches it, studying it as intensely as a college student studies their textbook the night before a final

you’re about to say something, to beg some more, when he reaches out a hand and slides a finger through your sopping folds

you gasp as he brushes it gently against you clit before pulling it away entirely, slipping it between his lips without so much as a second of hesitation

his eyes flutter closed and his cheeks hollow

the moan he lets out is nothing short of pornographic; you find yourself in awe of the show he’s putting on for you

“taste so good, honey,” he purrs as he tugs his finger free, “i’d eat you up forever, if you let me…”

he pauses, letting his eyes flicker up to meet yours

“will you let me?”

you nod, too dazed to say anything

“good girl…”

he wastes no time in laying down and throwing your legs over his shoulders

his giant hands find your thighs, gently caressing your smooth skin under the calloused tips of his fingers

they squeeze, kneading your flesh as he lowers his face to your aching core

“ready?” he hums, the word propelling a cool blast of air against your clit

you squirm and nod, but he shakes his head

“i really need your words this time, baby,” he says, “i’ve been lenient so far but i won’t do anything without your explicit permission; are you ready?”

“y-yes, yun…”

and just like that, he presses a soft kiss to your clit, the tip of his tongue just barely grazing it before he pulls away

it draws a whine through your gritted teeth

yunho chuckles before going back in to lick a stripe over your dripping hole

an obscene slurping sound echoing around the room as his tongue collects as much of your juices as he can before going back for more

he licks and prods are your hole, seeming to tease it until it leaks some more, all which his nose bumps gorgeously up against your clit

you hands fly to his hair, holding him against you in fear of him leaving you high and dry

he’s making you feel so good, the last thing you want is for this to stop

he just smiles against you as he feels the tug of your fingers in his locks, scraping his teeth against you in a way that has your body going limp

it’s even worse when he brushes them against your sensitive bud

you don’t quite register the sound your own mouth makes, too lost in the throws of pleasure to fully comprehend anything other than yunho

“so sweet, honey,” he grunts before he takes you clit between his lips

he suckles on it, hollowing his cheeks out as he pulses the pressure

he alternates between hard and soft sucks

it’s enough to make that knot in your stomach tighten

you’re getting close

“yuyu,” you cry as you let your hips buck into his mouth

it doesn’t phase him at all, so you carry on seeking your high

and when yunho sharpens his tongue to a point, letting you grind against the very top of it, that’s when you come undone

that’s when the knot snaps and your world turns white for just a second

fucking hell, yunho knows how to eat pussy…

he continues his ministrations for just a moment or two, letting you get it all out of your system before he pulls away and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand

“how was that, pretty girl?” he hums, “think you can take my cock next?”

[faerietells]

An annoyed sigh left your mouth as you eyed the young Lord that stood before you— yet another suitor that doesn’t seem to understand that you are not willing to bargain when it comes to the requirement to win your hand. You could've sworn you've made it pretty clear, and yet just when you thought that you’d managed to make them all give up with your little task, somehow these men still insist on attempting to woo you with gifts and honeyed words. At this point they’re just wasting both your time and theirs.

For the life of you, you simply can’t understand what’s going on through their mind. What is so hard to understand? You didn't ask for crystal jewelries made of a goddess' tears, you asked for the heart of the Whitefang manticore. It’s not like you talked in riddles when you had asked your previous suitors for it, and you don’t doubt that words have spread about it, so what gives? And then they have the audacity to act as if you were the one that’s wasting their time when you’ve made it very clear that you will not be interested in their advances unless they’ve accomplished the task first. It's not your fault that none of them are competent enough to get it, and it's certainly not your duty to humor them when they can't even do this one thing you've asked. If anything, it just shows you that they think they could change your mind so easily with their silly little gifts and that really soured your mood that you could barely bring yourself to feign a smile right now.

"What's this now?" you asked, your sweet tone barely masked the irritation that nearly seeped out of your voice as you glanced down at the box on his squire's hand before he presents what's inside for you. Oh, great, it's another necklace— judging from the deep red color of the gem, it's most likely one of those rare, enchanted blood rubies. You’ve only seen one in person before, and as beautiful as it is, it’s still not the manticore heart that you’d asked.

"It's an enchanted blood ruby necklace, Princess," Lord Errick confirmed your guess with such a prideful tone as if none of the previous suitors had tried to win your favor with enchanted items. "It's very rare and hard to acquire, a gem fitting for a beautiful Princess like you."

"Ah, it is quite lovely indeed," you hum in feigned interest before you glanced at him. There was a brief silence between you two as you lean back against your father’s throne before you spoke again. "If it is truly so difficult to acquire this, would you agree when I say that I deserve only the best?"

"Why, of course, Princess! I would not dare to think anything less!"

"Really? Do you really think so?"

You tilt your head, your smile fading considerably as you give him an unimpressed look. This caused him to pause, as he begun to panic internally. Had he said something to upset you? You’ve always been a bit unpredictable, so he’d tried his best to say nothing but flattery to you, and yet even despite that, he had somehow managed to push the wrong button. You can see that he’s not the only one thinking this, either, as the air in the throne room became thick with tension from the hostile look you’re giving him.

"Yes...? That's what I really think, Princess," he answered hesitantly, your cold gaze chipping away at his confidence, turning the smile on his face into an uncertain grimace.

You didn't say anything for what felt like an eternity for the poor Lord, wordlessly staring at him as though you're giving him a chance to think where he went wrong. And frankly, you are. You want to see if he could use his head to figure out why you're so displeased by his attempt to win your hand.

The silence slowly grows suffocating as you began to see that the other suitors behind him are also starting to shift around anxiously, which tells you that they all know what this is about. You don't feel bad for causing them such discomfort— why should you when they were the ones that decided to waste your time like this?

You let out yet another heavy sigh, your manicured nails tapping impatiently on the armrest as you stared at your disappointing suitors. "I must say that I am deeply disappointed, gentlemen. I thought I've made my requirement clear, but it seems that neither of you had accomplished—"

You had to stop yourself from absolutely losing your temper as the huge double doors to the throne room is slammed open, startling the Lords that were already tense from your clear disapproval of their gifts and interrupting your sentence. The way the Lords nearly jumped looked pretty comical to you, and you would've laughed if you're not pissed off. Who dares to barge in into the throne room like this?

Your question was soon answered when you realized that you do in fact recognize your uninvited guest, and the sight was so surprising to you that you immediately forgot about your anger.

Dorian. Not the elegant Dorian you knew, but one with glowing blue eyes, messy hair, clothes ripped and although it seemed like he tried to clean himself up a bit, you still can see the stain of blood on his shirt. You’ve never seen him like this before, and you can’t deny that you find yourself liking this side of him. You can guess what probably happened just from your conversation with him two days ago and you subconsciously held your breath in anticipation as you wonder if he managed to accomplish the task.

You could barely keep the smile off your face as he walks toward you with purpose, his footsteps made no sound despite the deafening silence as your suitors stared at you with horror, fearing your reaction to this sudden intrusion. Does he have death wish? It's no secret that you’re quite ruthless when you're angry, and now he's here, all messy and uncouth while he practically stormed his way in. The Lords can only assume that he’d gone insane, as no sane man would do what he’s doing right now.

They were so focused on your reaction that they didn't seem to realize that Dorian didn’t just come here to scare them and make everyone question his sanity. You were the first to notice that he has something in his hand. Something that your so-called suitors had failed to acquire despite their “attempt” to win your heart, and something you had asked since the first time your mother decided that it's time for you to find a husband.

The Whitefang manticore's heart.

Without his usual grace, he threw it on the floor just beneath the stairs to the throne, eliciting a shocked and scandalized gasp from some of the Lords. Your guards don’t react kindly to it either, as they immediately reach for the hilt of their swords with alarmed look on their faces, thinking that this is some sort of threat as they’re aware that the both of you seemed to always have tension whenever the two of you are together, although they'd never considered the tension between the two of you to be the hostile sort of tension before this. But Dorian doesn't seem to care about their reaction— his intense gaze is fixed on you and only you, and you begin to wonder if he could hear how fast your heart is beating right now just from how excited you feel.

"There," he said gruffly, his deep voice makes your stomach stir. "The manticore's heart you've wanted so bad."

You nearly swoon. He got you the manticore's heart while he looks and sounds like that? It’s honestly a miracle how you managed to restrain yourself from jumping him, and not in the violent way either. You’ve always thought he looked heartbreakingly gorgeous, but now? He looks absolutely divine. Knowing that he most likely wouldn’t show this side of him often, you made sure to memorize every single detail of his appearance right now just so you can ask your personal painter to paint this image of him later.

“My, my,” you practically purred, the sweet, almost seductive sound causing his heart to flutter in his chest as he inhaled softly, trying his best to keep the annoyed look on his face. “What have we here? Do we finally have someone who takes this seriously? Color me shocked, Lord Dorian.”

“So, what now?”

You raised an eyebrow at his demanding tone, but he didn’t back down. He’s done what you’ve asked, and now he wants to know if you truly meant what you said. You’re not surprised by this— he never did find you intimidating no matter how ruthless you could be— and the delighted look in your eyes is enough to tell him that you are far from displeased by his boldness.

“What now?”

You tilt your head slightly to the side as you repeated his question before you stand up from the throne, a wicked grin formed on your face as you wonder if he realized what he just did. Whether he meant it or not, he had practically just announced that not only he is interested to court you to everyone here, but he had also showed that he’s willing to do just about anything to ensure that he’ll win your hand. After all these years of teasing and trying to get him to admit that he has feelings for you, you’ve finally won without having to lift a single finger and it feels exhilarating.

The clicks of your heels fill the heavy silence in the room as you approach him, and the closer you get, the tenser he became. At this point, he must’ve realized that he’d played right into your hand as the annoyed look on his face faltered, and even more so when he sees how smug you are as you made your way toward him. Suddenly, it feels like there’s only you and him in the throne room, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself other than to question his own decisions.

Why did he decide to hunt the manticore despite knowing how dangerous it was? Why did he feel the need to prove just how capable he is to you? He absolutely cannot stand you, so the thought of another man being able to accomplish this feat shouldn’t have bothered him that much… right? You are supposed to be the most vexing, wicked, and unpleasant woman that he’s even had the displeasure to know. So why is it that even now, he finds himself unable to tear his gaze away from you as you make your way to him?

His icy blue eyes are filled with uncertainty and doubt when he glanced down at you as you finally stand right in front of him— although he tries to look as unfazed as he could, the way his throat bobbed slightly as he nervously gulped didn’t go unnoticed by you, causing the glimmer of amusement in your eyes to become even more prominent. To other people, he might look dangerous right now, but unfortunately for him, you can read him far too well to feel intimidated by how insane he must’ve look right now.

You raise your hand, wanting to wipe the blood on his cheek but he swiftly grabs your wrist, which seems to have greatly alarmed the other Lords. Some of them let out a scandalized gasp, followed by some chaotic clamoring in the background. How dare he! Just barging into the throne room while you’re supposed to see your suitors is already outrageous as is, and now he dares to grab your wrist? Absolutely preposterous!

Few of the Lord began looking at the guards, as if silently demanding them to do something. This can’t be right, for the Princess to be touched by a beast, even if it’s just a grab on the wrist. But your guards did nothing despite their protest. They knew better than to interrupt this. The last time they tried to get between Dorian and you, you were so angry some of them still couldn’t look at you in the eyes until this day. And seeing how pleased you are by this, they knew that you don’t need any help and all they could do is try and calm down the complaining Lords who seem to assume that Dorian’s about to drain your blood if the guards wouldn’t do anything about him.

As for the both of you, neither of you said anything while you observed his expression. Dorian’s grip on your wrist might be firm enough for it to be a warning, but it is also still gentle enough to make sure he doesn’t accidentally hurt you with his immense strength. Despite the stern look he’s attempting to give you to salvage his wounded pride, you can easily see the conflicted look in his eyes and you began to grow hopeful that he’d let go of this foolish charade and just admit that he feels affection for you.

“Is the thought of you falling for me so horrible, Lord?” Even if you weren’t a half-fey with sharp hearing and can’t hear how his breath hitched in his throat, you doubt you’d be able to miss how he looked absolutely taken aback by your bold question. It was only a split second, but it was enough for you to confirm that he does indeed have feelings for you, even if he’s too prideful to admit it.

“... It is. You are the wicked woman that haunts me and will not allow me even a moment of peace—”

“Truly? Then why did you hunt down the manticore knowing full well that it’s the task that I had asked the Lords to do to win my hand?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing really came out as he doesn’t really know what to say about that. Deep down, he knows why, but knowing about it and admitting it are two vastly different things. A part of him is afraid— afraid that this is just one of your wicked games and that you’d mock him when he shows you his true feelings. What if you’d planned for this to happen? He wouldn’t be able to face anyone ever again if that is the case.

So, instead of saying the truth, he simply said, “I don’t know.”

“Oh, I think you do, my Lord. I think you do, but something is stopping you from being honest to me.”

As always, you managed to read him like an open book, and this greatly unnerved him. Your gaze softens, knowing that he feels extremely vulnerable right now. You need to approach this carefully lest you wish to scare him away. So, you lowered your hand, placing your other hand over his to give it a gentle, reassuring squeeze to show him that you’re here for him. That you won’t mock him if he decides to be open and honest with you. That despite your taunting words and silly games, deep down you truly care for him.

“What are you so afraid of, Dorian?”

Your voice was sincere and soft— it’s quiet enough to make sure no one would be able to hear you, but still loud enough for him to hear and for the first time, he genuinely looks devastated in front of you without any urgency to mask it from you. Just by looking at the sincere concern on your face right now, he realized that he has lost this battle against you. Try as he might, he simply couldn’t bring himself to hide anymore. Not when he feels as though you’re clutching his heart in your palm like this.

“It is true.” His voice was low, almost as quiet as yours when he finally spoke and you say nothing, intent on listening to what he has to say. “I am afraid. I’m afraid that this is just some sort of a cruel game to you, designed for your amusement and nothing more. I’m scared that if I ever show you even the slightest bit of vulnerability, you’ll sink your claws deeper and if that happens, I…” he trailed off, swallowing thickly as he tries to contain his emotions. “If I allow myself to admit what I feel for you, I fear I will not be able to let this go even when you’ve grown bored of our games. I fear I will never be able to forget you when I have to.”

You nod silently. A part of you had suspected that this was the case, but hearing it admit it to you really breaks your heart. Have you really been that cruel? You are aware of the games you’ve played, but despite everything, you’ve always enjoyed your time with him. And why wouldn’t you? Even when he pretended as though he couldn’t stand you, he would always give you his coat when you’re cold, and he would be the first to wield his sharp tongue without any hesitation when someone dared to step out of line and speak badly of you. In your eyes, he’s nothing short of perfection, so why can’t he see that?

“I am offended, Dorian,” you said, and your heart sank when you see his face fell that you had to quickly elaborate. “I am offended that despite all the years we’ve known each other, you somehow couldn’t see how dear you are to me. You know me, hopefully enough to know that I would not bother to pester someone I don’t care about. But perhaps it is not entirely your fault, as my attempts to get your attention might come off a bit… childish. That’s probably why you can’t really be sure of my intention, and I can’t blame you for it.”

His eyes widen in disbelief when you said that and you avert your gaze, clearly embarrassed by your own admission. You would never be caught dead admitting your faults, and yet here you are, acknowledging that perhaps your way of getting his attention caused him some confusion and uncertainty. If few days ago someone had told him that you would say anything like this to him, he would’ve laughed in their face and tell them that you’d sooner jump off a cliff with a dress made of rag. But here you are, opening yourself up for him like he did to you, and it completely threw him off.

“What I’m saying is, I will be more than pleased if you really do try to pursue a relationship with me,” you tried to explain just in case he still doesn’t get it, your impatience seeping through your voice. “Or, if you wish to continue this game of cat and mouse, I will—”

He didn’t let you finish your sentence before he pulls you by the waist and leans in to capture your lips, effectively stopping your rambling as your let out a small, surprised gasp.

Is this really happening? Did Dorian really just kiss you?

Your question was soon answered as you feel his lips move against yours. His lips are so soft, and his kiss is filled with so much longing and desperation that you can’t help but melt against him with a longing sigh of your own. Lord Dorian, who barely ever smiled in public, really kissed you in front of everyone. Such intimate display is highly inappropriate, but you’ve never been one to care about such silly rules, especially when you finally get what you’ve wanted for so long. You even clutched at his ripped shirt like your life depends on it, as if you’re still not satisfied with this and wants him even closer somehow despite the fact that you’re pressed flush against his front.

At this point, the captain of your guards already knows that it’s probably the best for everyone to leave. There’s no need for everyone to see this. You didn’t even realize how your guards are practically herding the complaining Lords out of the throne room, too invested with this new territory in your relationship with Dorian. It wasn’t until the both of you pulled away from the kiss that you finally realized that everyone had left the two of you alone, which makes you giggle in amusement, especially when you see how the tip of Dorian’s ears had reddened as if he had just realized that the other Lords most likely witnessed how he’d kissed you.

“Oh, is this amusing for you?” he chided playfully, his hands are still resting on your waist and he doesn’t seem to be interested to remove them.

“Way to show everyone that you’re claiming me, Dorian,” you teased, the mischievous grin on your face only grew as his cheeks turned red from your choice of words, especially combined with how you shamelessly running your fingers on the exposed skin of his chest.

“You should really watch your words, Princess. Someone might misunderstand if they hear you say that.”

“Let them,” you practically purred as you lean in to press soft kisses on his cheek that trailed down to his jawline, causing him to shiver a bit against you. “And am I wrong? I mean, you did accomplish the one task I’ve given for anyone to be able to win my hand, and practically showed it off in front of everyone.”

“I’m just saying you could’ve worded it differently, but who am I to tell the Princess what to do?”

“Mm. Smart. That’s why I like you.”

He can’t help but smile. Now that the cat’s out the bag and he has openly admitted his feelings for you, he can no longer pretend to be indifferent. Still, one question still bugs him in the back of his mind, and you can tell that something is bothering him just from the way his thumb is anxiously rubbing your skin. This earned him a raised eyebrow from you as you looked at him expectantly, silently urging him to just spit it out.

“I’m just… I’m wondering where we’re going with this. We’ve decided to move past our pretenses and be honest to each other, but… did you mean what you say when…?”

His words trailed off, but you understand exactly what he’s asking. It’s cute how he looks so nervous, you almost wanted to be mean and tease him for it, but you decided against it knowing how vulnerable and delicate he feels right now.

Perhaps another time, then.

“I mean everything I’ve said to you. But it is your choice whether you want me as your betrothed or not. If you do, we can talk to your father and mine about it, although I’m pretty sure words have spread at this point.”

You have no doubt in your mind that your father would be overjoyed to hear about this since he’s been subtly suggesting for you to choose Dorian as your future husband, and your mother would most likely be pleased as well as she had been urging you to get married, so you’re really not worried about your parents’ reaction to this news. Honestly, you’re more worried about how Dorian would feel when he realized that the nobles would talk about how he had showed up here today looking like a mess and kissed the Princess. He’s a private person, after all, so perhaps you should do something about them.

“Oh, no. I know that look. Please don’t try to kill anyone,” he said half-jokingly, drawing a small laugh from you. Little did he know, that was actually what you had in mind, but you figured he doesn’t need to know that now.

“Very well, only because you’ve asked so nicely. So, what is your choice? Shall we pay our fathers a visit?”

Your impatience didn’t miss his attention, and it surprised him a bit that you seem to be so eager to make it official with him. He’s not complaining about it, though. No, he’s far too delighted to complain since the fact that you’re so impatient means that his anxiety and fear were wrong about you. To say that he’s relieved would be an understatement, and he couldn’t agree faster to your proposal.

“I should probably change my clothes first, but yes, we shall pay them a visit.”

You nod in acknowledgement, practically beaming with excitement when he gently grabs your chin before pulling you in for another kiss as if to seal the deal. It seems that once again he managed to brighten your day, and you simply can’t wait for what the future holds for the both of you. Of course, there are still lots of things to arrange before you could make your betrothal official, but for now, you’re content to just have him with you.

[randomthingsthatilike1]

honestly I think the wrong parent was sent to pick up Aly in the ending of Trickster's Choice

the entire book we see through Kyprioths visions to Aly that Alanna, above all, cares for Aly, that she really does see Aly for who she is and worries terribly for her lost, hidden daughter, angry and upset and scared. She's constantly scrying for her with the mirror Thom gave her--her daughter is missing and her husband lied to her about it.

After months and months of worrying and praying, Alanna finally knows where her daughter is. She loves George, she does, but he lied to her about her only daughter's well being. And after the 8 years of her training constantly lying to everyone Alanna is sick of it, sick of doing it and avoids it at almost all cost--but for this? For the love she has for her daughter?

She’s been worried sick, scrying every free hour, distracted and blaming herself for her daughter’s disappearance. She's not needed in Frasrland, not really, not with this stalemate at the border. The killing devices are all gone and nothing is happening there. They don't need her--but Aly does.

She’s been married to George for 20 years and she’s known him for 30--she’s picked up a few tricks on how to go around unseen, how to slip away seamlessly but first there are a few things she has to do.

Her husband with his nondescript features can roam freely.  She cannot. She’s far too distinctive nowadays, but to quote her daughter that is what razors and dyes are for. Her long hair is her pride and joy. After years of cutting it boyishly short, as well as being a good enough fighter she can have long hair--it’s her one vanity.

She loves her hair. She’d topple kingdoms for her daughter.

A short and stocky man with copper red hair isn't the ideal spy, but shes here to find her daughter--its the story she goes with. She’s looking for her daughter, a Tortallan, who was kidnapped and sold into slavery in the Copper Isles.She speaks enough Carthaki to get by and well it’s not like she can’t defend herself, even with just a knife and hand to hand.

The only dead giveaway about her are her purple eyes, but she's a mage, with a powerful Gift specializing in manipulating the human body--if there's a magical way to create an illusion or temporarily change your eye color she would know it. If not, I'm sure George has found a way and she's already used it before.

This barely scratches the surface of what she’d do for Aly. She's a mage, with a powerful Gift specializing in manipulating the human body--if there's a magical way to create an illusion or temporarily change your eye color she would know it. If not, I'm sure George has found a way. She glamors her eyes to look the same as her daughter and her husband. She lightly dyes her hair, making it a more blondish red like Aly's.

She finds a young squire stationed at the border and surreptitiously steals some of his clothes and other supplies around camp, her personal weaponry far too flashy and distinctive.

Aly isn’t the only one who was trained by the King of Thieves.

You can’t tell me she’s never done anything like this with George, not wanting to be stared at by people who recognize the famous Lioness, either getting him out of some scrapes or just relaxing and having fun.

Kyprioth is sweating bullets. There's only so much he can hide, although he has far more power in the Copper Isles than Tortall so he can't stop her but he’ll do his best to hide her from the Goddess but uhhhhhhhh there’s only So Much he can do. 

Alanna is Determined--she will find her daughter and is she maybe less subtle than George was? Sure. But all the same, she’s brought to the Balitang’s home in Rajmuat and makes her way to Lombyn.

It’s the same scene, of Alanna approaching Winnamine , introducing herself as Alan Cooper and asking to buy Aly-- Winnamine realizing “Alan” isn’t really here to buy Aly.

It takes Aly just a little longer to recognize Alanna--and she comes to a halt and is filled with shock because this is the Lioness, her mother who is persona non grata to the Copper Isles due to killing one of their princesses decades ago (and wow that might actually get Ochabu to tolerate her mother) and would probably be either killed or ransomed as a hostage p much on sight, the King’s Champion, one of the most distinctive and famous women in the continent--is here.

She’s here, her hair short and lighter and her purple eyes--they’re very similar to Aly’s now. Alanna letting out a sob at the sight of her daughter--her hair also shorter, eyebrow scar, broken nose, but alive and safe and still with that spark in her eye.

Just. The PARALLELS of both having the explicit approval of their god to deceive and lie and how they both deceived so many people to achieve their goals. Aly seeing her mother engage in spycraft and trickery to try to find her is probably a better apology than Alanna could ever find the words for

Later after Alanna had her Own standoff with Kyprioth she tells Aly she didn’t want this life for her, not because she was a noble or a Trebond but because she’s Alanna’s daughter and she knows how hard it is to keep a secret and deceive the people she cared about, and how much it hurt when it all came out. That’s something George never had to deal with--George has never really had to deceive his loved ones. They’ve always known he’s Crooked and an inkling of what he’s been up to--but Alanna has. She did it for 8 long years and she was good at it too, but the amount of pain it brought her after meant she never wanted that for her daughter.

Alanna earned her shield through treachery, the constant fear of being found out dogging her footsteps and once she got it she made sure no other girl would have to.

For Aly just to be reminded how similar she really is to her mother and begrudgingly putting that together--for Kyprioth to tell Aly that yes George gave her the skills he needed that made Aly his ideal Spymaster and what she’s done so far in keeping the Balitangs safe is why he wants her to stay, but it was Alanna’s actions that really sold him on recruiting Aly in the first place.

(I have other feelings about Kyprioth and Alanna here because d a m n “they say he loves a good trick”--as a girl for 8 years Alanna fooled the Tortallan monarchy and nobility. That’s what his Promised Queen will have to do. And he is George’s patron--it would make sense that both of them loved aspects of Alanna.)

(also while she’s there it’d be hilarious for Sarai to spar against Alanna and have her ass handed to her--it’d be a great nod back to when Aly was observing Sarai and thinking about her own training bc it sure would make Ulasim wonder wait can Aly use a sword????)

(also if anyone wants to write this go for it)

[agentrouka-blog]

Its incredibly funny when people try to paint jon as not-classist and not-shallow, unlike sansa, to prove he is too good for her (in the story, actually she is too good for him), when his first pov chapter began with him dissing other people's appearances and making assumptions about them because he did not like them. He is an asshole to other night's watch boys because he thinks he is better than them (every time people say sansa looked down on people beneath her, i am reminded of this). He literally thinks ygritte's looks are common so she could be pretty in a peasant sort of way but not enough for a highborn lady 💀, his entire attraction to val is superficial based on her looks, he knows nothing about her. He dreams of his mother being highborn and beautiful. Judging this by standards everyone judges Sansa, this is classist and shallow. His best quality is that he learns, but so does Sansa, people just refuse to acknowledge it.

Very true, anon.

Sansa has a very judgmental opinion (that is actually based in the text and not plain projection like the idea that she held disdain for Jon) on exactly one lowborn person and that's about the kid her sister prefers playing with instead of herself, embedded in context pointing out how upset she is that she and Arya have so little in common.

Sansa knew all about the sorts of people Arya liked to talk to [instead of Sansa how dare she]: squires and grooms and serving girls, old men and naked children, rough-spoken freeriders of uncertain birth. Arya would make friends with anybody [except Sansa how dare she]. This Mycah was the worst; a butcher's boy, thirteen and wild, he slept in the meat wagon and smelled of the slaughtering block [TOTALLY UNWORTHY WHAT DOES SHE SEE IN HIM]. Just the sight of him was enough to make Sansa feel sick, but Arya seemed to prefer his company to hers [THE INJUSTICE!!!]. (AGOT, Sansa I)

Mycah is her rival for Arya's company and 12-year-old Sansa lists all his Horrible Terrible Qualities in her head to avoid acknowledging this.

The same way Jon projects his abject disappointment with the Watch on his lowborn fellow recruits and voices some very judgmental and shortsighted misgivings.

People ignoring one thing in Jon and then castigating Sansa for the same thing are hilarious. 🤭

[romanarose]

Not Tonight

Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader

Summery: Jake comes home from a few day long mission, ready to fuck your brains out... but that's not happening tonight.

Warnings: Lots of vagina talk lol, reader has a yeast infection, starts of blowjob but its interrupted, still its 18+!! Soft, soft,soft jake

*****************

When you heard the door open, you were startled until you realized it was Jake. When you saw hs figure coming through the door, you squeal and run to meet him.

“Jakey! You’re home!” You hug him tightly and greet him with a kiss. “How are the others?” You ask. Your boys all left for a nondescript time on some mission or rather for Khonshu, not knowing when they’d be back. It was 3 days.

“They are good, everything went decent. No graphic violence this time” He smiled before going for a passionate, open mouthed kiss. “But I missed you, bebita, c’mere” Jake pulled you and- fucking hell, he was already hard. “Been thinking about you the whole drive over… your little tight cunt wrapped around my cock, the way I gotta stuff it in you…” 

You are pressed up against him, and fuuuuuck did you want him too… but there was a minor problem. As he slides a hand between your legs, you reach for his wrist, and he stops immediately. “Jake, wait…” Jake stops, he always stops as soon as you ask.

His expression is suddenly soft. “Of course, mi vida, everything alright?” Jake nestles his face in your neck as his hairs wrap up in your hair.

“Yes, Jakey, I’m okay just… not tonight?”

He pulls back to look at you, his face concerned. “Of course, of course…” Jake would never pressure you… but it was very rare you turned him down. You know that Jake and Marc sometimes worry when they are gone for a few days, they worry you won’t be waiting for them, that’ll you’ll be upset… you know you have to tell him, lest his anxieties that he swears he doesn’t have eat him alive tonight. 

“Well… there just… there's a small issue…” You squire a bit, it was gross, it was embarrassing, and although you know Jake doesn’t have an issue with gross things… you couldn’t help feel like your thing was worse.

He was clearly worried as you dodged his eyes, the spiraling thoughts took over and spilled out of his mouth. “What’s wrong, amor?” When yu didn’t answer immediately, he began asking questions. “Did I do something? Are you sick?” His face goes dark. “Did someone do or say something to you?”

“No, No!” You assure your love that no one had touched you or so much as had been mean to you. “It’s just… kinda embarrassing…”

Jake coaxed your face up to look at him. “It’s okay, you can tell me”

You cringe as you look at him, confessing the issues. “I have a yeast infection…”

Blatant relief washed over him, “Oh my god…” Jake rested his forehead on your shoulder, smiling, placing his hand over his chest. “Oh thank god…”

“Jakey!” You tease, playfully pushing his shoulder. “I’m not thanking god for this anytime soon”

“Oh mi vida” He giggles a bit as he pulls you close, his voice sympathetic. “Lo siento, I am, I’m sure it’s very difficult, but my mind went to 100 worst case scenario’s.”

“I know, I know” You hold him close, feeling his hard erection against you.

His hands patted down your head. “Tell me, is there anything you need? Need me to go to the store for medicine?”

“No, thank you Jake. I got those weird monistat eggs up in my vagina creaming up my underwear as we speak”

Jake couldn’t help but laugh again, not seeming too put off by the situation in your pants. “Okay, just let me know if you need anything?”

“I will” You promise. “In the meantime…” You raise an eyebrow, cupping his crotch in your hand as you begin to sink down. “I can help you with that.”

Jake grins. “You sure?” Not a lot of hesitation there.

Your answer was to pull down his pants, and take hs cock in your mouth. “Fuck, así de igual de, chiquita” Jake groans, throwing his head back as you began to suck him off, assuring him in no uncertain terms that yes, you still loved him and yes, you’d always be here waiting for him as long as he came home to you.

But it wasn’t long before Jake noticed you squirming, and not in the way you usually did as he fucked your mouth. Your face winced as your hand tried to adjust your underwear, attempting to subtly scratch between your legs. Jake watched for a few moments before calling it, pulling out of your mouth and tucking himself away.

“Jaaaaaake!” You whine for him, pouting as you look up at him. 

“Nope” Jake popped the P at the end, and bent over to scoop you up. “You are clearly uncomfortable, I can wait another few days.” He carried you to your bed, laying you down gently. “Stay here” he insisted with a firmly pointing finger before going to dig around the bathroom.

When he emerged, he instructed you to take off your pants and underwear as he sat with a tube in one hand and a washcloth in the other. You did as you were told and he sat on the bed, that tender look on his face he only ever got with you. He places the cool washcloth between your legs, and you wince. He pulled back. “That hurt?” He says with concern.

“No” You assure him in a whispered voice. “Jus’ a lil cold”

“I know, google says its supposed to ease the burning” Jake speaks, looking at your swollen, painful and itchy cunt like his next mission, like making you feel better was more important than anything else. “Is it?”

You nod in agreement. “Yeah, feels nice.”

Humming in agreement, he whips the cool clothes with gentle hands, so unlike the violence you knew he was capable of. “I see what you mean about the monistat creaming in your pants” He teases you, cleaning it up. Next, he takes the tube that you now see is anti-itch cream specifically meant for vulvas and carefully rubbed it around the fold of skin he knew so well. You watch him work, nothing but love in his eyes. In the past, boyfriends wouldn’t even buy tampons for you, nonetheless take care of a yeast infection with such care. And turning down a bluejob because you were itchy? You couldn’t think of an ex that would do that. Only Jake, Marc and Steven… they loved and cared for you the way you had never been cared for before.

“Feeling a little better?” He asks when he’s done, getting up and getting underwear from the drawer.

“UUUGGHH” you groan when you see his choice. “Not the granny panties!”

He smiles softly, coaxing you into them. “Cotton is supposed to be the best for you”

“But they are so uugglllyyyyy”

“Well, you make them look beautiful” Jake kisses your forehead and crawls into bed with you. “You tell me if theres anything I can do to help, okay?”

“Okay” You whisper. “You know, I can still-”

“No” he said firmly. “Not when you’re this uncomfortable, querida. Let’s just stay in bed, relax. Together.” You are wrapped up tightly in his arms, safe and secure.

“You don’t think I’m gross?”

“Muneca, I had a man’s intestines on me last month” He spoke bluntly.

You burst out in a fit of laugher, happy to be distracted from the itch between your legs. “Okay, good point.”

Jake did his damndest to keep you distracted, and you spent the night wrapped up in his embrace and he told you about where he traveled too, an you filled him in on the latest friend drama, feeling content and happy with him, excited to see Marc and Steven later that evening, but always happy to spend time your Jakey. You loved how he took care of you, you loved how he adored you and respected you, you loved his handsome face and comforting presence, how the terrifying fist of vengeance was soft for you, the way the tiniest little snort comes out of his nose when he laughs too hard, and the creases that form when he smiles that are distinct from Marc or Steven, how they all smile so different and laugh so different and exist so different but all so, so perfect. You love them, you love them all in their individual ways… you adored your special time alone with all of them, and right now you were thankful for your time with Jake, despite not feeling well. Jake? He made it better.

************

Just a lil thing I wrote because, I'll be totally honest, I'm just prone t yeast infections, and it sucks. I only wear cotton, I do all the things to keep myself clean, and yet! I just fucking get them and it sucks and it hurts.

@my-secret-shame @writingforcurrentobsessions2 @eyelessfaces @luciannadraven33 @trinkets01 @littlenosoul @ninebluehearts @welcometostayingawake @ahookedheroespureheart @jake-g-lockley

[highly-invested]

Dalinar studied him, taking note of his burned and bloodied uniform. Finally, he spoke. “I have multiple reports of you and your soldiers letting enemy Fused go once you’ve wounded them.” Kaladin relaxed immediately. That was what Dalinar wanted to talk about?

“I think we’re starting to reach a kind of understanding with them, sir,” Kaladin said. “The Heavenly Ones fight with honor. I let one of them go today. In turn, their leader—Leshwi—released one of my men instead of killing him.”

“This isn’t a game, son,” Dalinar said. “This isn’t about who gets first blood. We’re literally fighting for the existence of our people.”

“I know,” Kaladin said quickly. “But this can serve us. You’ve noticed already how they’ll hold back and attack us one-on-one, so long as we play by their rules. Considering how many more Heavenly Ones there are than Windrunners, I think we want to encourage this kind of encounter. Killing them is barely an inconvenience, as they’ll be reborn. But each of ours they kill requires training an entirely new Windrunner. Getting back wounded for wounded favors us.”

“You never did want to fight the parshmen,” Dalinar said. “Even when you first joined my army, you didn’t want to be sent against the Parshendi.”

-RoW ch. 10

This little exchange has always bugged me a bit because Kaladin is just right here! heavenly ones can come back every 13 days for as long as there are singers on the planet, with all of their experience and skill, but if a windrunner goes down, they need to find a new partner for the spren, who then has to be trained (granted, minimally if they're coming from the squires), and climb the oaths, plus if a full fledged windrunner dies, all their squires drop out of the air like flies! Nonlethal combat TREMENDOUSLY benefits the humans here, why in the world would Dalinar want to upset that? And then, he just completely dodges Kaladin's obviously correct rebuttal and it doesn't come back up again, even though the code of honor between the gravitation users is what stopped Kal from getting swarmed in the tower when he was flying around with navani's fabrial!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the King’s Hand🐍XIX

Masterlist

Warnings: noncon/rape, violence/death, trauma, allusions to torture, gaslighting, pregnancy, birth, sickness, cheating.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 18+ only.

Summary: Your isolation brings you close to disaster.

Note: I know it’s been a while. I forgot I even worked on this chapter so I figured I’d share with you before I start catching up on my slumber party.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, I would appreciate any feedback you have. Please reblog if you can and send an ask if you feel up to it. Love you all! Have a good day and take care of yourselves.

Vali babbled at the wooden figure of a knight gifted to him by Hal. The child was bright-eyed despite his infancy, he was pensive and observant, much like his father. The reminders of his sire irked you at times and worried you at others. You hoped he was unlike either of you; kinder than Loki and smarter than you.

Whatever he was, you wanted him safe more than anything. The fixation on him, the need to have him close, confounded you. Perhaps it was that his was the only companionship you had aside from Birger’s periodic visits. Those grew less and less, more often you sat in your overdressed prison and listened to the low drone of life on the other side of the wall.

Sinthia was a frequent hum on the outside. You learned her voice and it piqued a strange curiosity, one born of monotone and isolation. Her words were obscured by the barrier between you but you tried to imagine those which would match her tone. How odd she never sounded angry with her husband when he so easily riled all others.

She must have been kind and patient. Maybe timid and obedient. Much the opposite of you. You, the uncouth and unrefined peasant, the mother of a bastard, the dirty secret hidden in the closet.

That morning, the king and queen spoke rather loudly over the clink of dishes. They supped as your stomach growled wantingly. You would have to wait until the chamber was empty to break your fast. You had only the lukewarm wine to sate your hunger and it did little but set a burn in your gut.

The longer you were trapped in this chamber, the more forgotten you felt. Hal was busy with his duties as squire and you would not keep him from those. Birger only came upon necessity, and the king did not acknowledge you upon his visits. Only his child. You had nothing to say to him as it were, not since he reminded you of your worth.

You took out the bundle of paper hidden in the desk against the far wall. You were out of practice but remembered all the letters. Piecing them together was harder but distracted you from the listless solitary. You made little progress without Hal to guide you and Vali cried as soon as you found a semblance of comprehension.

Frustrated, you took the baby from his basket and out him to feed. You felt like cattle, there to be milked and kept waiting for the trough. The child was restless and fussed as you tried to latch him. The conversation without lulled as Vali began to bluster.

You cooed and shifted him in your arms, rocking him as you tried to calm him before he could erupt. You moved him to your nipple and smothered his displeasure with your tit. He drank, slipping several times as you tried to keep him suckling.

The sudden dearth of sound worried you. You no longer heard Loki’s silty deep timbre or Sinthia’s lilted responses. Perhaps the king had noticed the stirring and quickly distracted his queen. A cunning snake, ever he was.

Vali detached again and let out a horrid wail. You hushed him and turned, swaying him as you coaxed him. 

“Please, my baby,” you begged. These fits grew more often, more frustrating. All alone, your patience dwindled and your temper piqued. You loved the child, you did, but you felt clueless at how to handle him, “please, be quiet. You cannot be loud.”

He didn’t obey. How could he when he did not understand. You cradled his head, caressing him with your fingertips, “please, for your mother, be calm, be quiet,” you whispered to him, “listen to me Vall, my precious, listen, I was like you once. I was–”

He screamed and your ears ached, a pulsing at the base of your skull.

“Not very long ago. Before I met your father. I was unknowing. I was afraid. The fear remains, it is stronger now you are here, but I did not realise there were worse things than an empty belly or a sleepless night.”

You talked to him, you didn’t know why. Perhaps because you could not fathom what else to do. You paced with him in your arms.

“Before you were born, I was most scared. And now you are here… and that fear must be conquered–” You sighed and shook your head in exasperation, “I will tell you the story of me and your father. Not a romance, no princess and her bard.”

Your eyes welled as he only hollered louder, “I knew a girl, her name is Gilla, and I believed her to be my friend. Your father was being crowned. A king, but I was only a potter’s assistant. My uncle. Perhaps one day you can meet him. If ever a day I can leave these wretched walls.”

You hugged him to you and continued, “we climbed the Founder’s Tree. Fools, fools. And then we joined the feast for the peasants but Gilla snuck into the royal’s celebration and we were caught. Well, she ran faster than I, so truly, it was only me who was snared.

“The guards took me to a room–” You choked at the memory. It felt so long ago. That terror of the night returned to you, emotion you did not realise you still harboured for the occasion, “and I sat in the cold and waited. Your father came, and to be true, I did not expect him. Never expected to see the king so close, nor this. To hold his babe in my arms.

“I begged. It is what he wanted. It is what peasants like me must do. But you are a king’s son so take this story and learn from it. I begged and he took no mercy. And neither did I. I would not, for while I was poor and lowly, I had my pride. And I hope that you never let the same vice lead you to folly. Not as I or your father have.”

You stopped, realising the child was quiet. For how long, you could not say, so lost in your reveries that you did not notice. You smiled down at him and brought him closer. He squirmed and moved his lips as if to suck. You put him back to breast and let him feed.

Past the noise of his hunger, you heard something else. Something unsettling. A scratching at the other side of the wall. Then a clap, another, a knock which revealed the hollowness of the room. You stared, heart in your throat, at the door. That which could not be seen from the outside but which now shifted slightly from the investigation without.

You backed up until you hit the wall. You looked around, uncertain what to do. The panel that concealed the door jolted then pounded. Gods. You spun and held Vali close. You went to the tall armoire and opened the door. You crouched inside and kept the baby at your chest, adjusting him as you settled in the dark.

The slit between the doors offered a scant view of the chamber. The mechanism clicked and you held your breath. You felt Vali, his noisy feeding would give you away. But what could you do, if you stopped him, he would surely cry.

The long creak sent a shiver through you and the footfalls scuffed to a stop, a gasp punctuating it. You angled slightly as you saw the skirts ripple around careful steps. Around the child’s basket and the bed, pausing to look at the wooden knight.

The shadow loomed closer. Vali gurgled and you winced, embracing him as you waited for the inevitable. You knew it was her, but where was Loki?

She neared the wardrobe and you closed your eyes, cowering as you held Vali to you. You shielded him as the doors opened  and shakily raised your chin. You looked up at the woman. 

One could never mistake her for anything but what she was; a queen. Her amber skin and golden eyes shone brilliant beneath a head of thick, curly black locks. She had the stature and the height of her standing and her confusion was quickly shrouded behind the discipline of her crown.

She said nothing as she stared, as silent and dumbfounded as you. She looked at the child and dropped her hand from the door, retreating a step as she set her jaw. You shook and Vali began to whine again.

“Come,” she spoke at last, “there is some food left from our breakfast, you should eat so the child does not go hungry.”

Your lip trembled. You didn’t move. You couldn’t.

“I am queen and presumably you are one of my subjects, so do not expect me to repeat myself,” she girded and backed away.

As she turned on her heel, you emerged from the armoire. You pet Vali’s head as he continued his discontent. You followed the queen through the door and entered the king’s chamber. She sat and poured herself wine.

You approached her and made a bow. She put the urn down and raised the cup before her mouth. You knew not what to say and didn’t dare to try.

“Sit and feed your child before he starts again,” she commanded, “and eat something. I do hate to see food go to waste.”

You felt the steel in her tone. Unbendable but dangerous. You did as she said and switched Vali to the other side. He latched again and you glanced over the table. You took a grape and bit into it sheepishly.

“Your majesty, Queen Sinthia, yes?”

“Yes,” she drank and set the cup flat, “how old is the child?”

You swallowed, “I am not certain, your majesty. I have no way of keeping time.”

She nodded and closed her eyes. Her hand lingered on her cup as her lips maintained a straight line.

“Then I suppose,” she smoothed her skirts over her lap, “we shall wait and get the answer from my husband.”

You lowered your head and watched Vali. You knew what bastards inherited. Only wariness and hostility. Especially from queens.

“I’m sorry,” you uttered.

“No,” she dismissed, “eat.”

🐍

The silence was torment. Worse than any elaborate monologue Loki exposed you to. The queen said nothing. Each time Vali babbled you felt worse and were quick to quiet him.

Sinthia, tall and graceful, paced. The only betrayal of her impatience. You rocked your son until he slept, thankful at least for that. He could rest as you languished in the stifling silence of her repressed rage. For what wife would not be livid?

From the hall you heard shuffling and the doors opened at the king's will. You went rigid as the queen faced him, shoulders set for battle. You slumped and stared down at Vali.

Loki let out an audible breath as his sole scuffed to a halt. The silence extended as he considered you. You squirmed in the chair as Sinthia abruptly stormed towards him. The smack of flesh on flesh brought your head up as you flinched. 

"My king, my husband," the queen snarled, "I've found your mistress."

Loki’s jaw ticked as his green eyes watched the wall. You saw the flicker of fury, the insult, the shock, but not an inkling of shame. He stiffly turned his head and blinked, long and slow.

"You will not strike me again," he ordered, restrained. If it were you, he’d have you bent and begging. "And you will gather yourself before we proceed."

"I will act as I please. You are king but you cannot wield power over my emotions," she hissed, "tell me not to be offended by your slights. We are hardly wed and you have a bastard–"

"Pray you can deliver a son with rights," he snapped tritely, "and you needn't worry for the whelp."

"My father did not betroth me to a second son to be treated as a second wife–"

Sinthia exclaimed as the king’s knuckles cracked off her cheek and sent her staggering. There it was. Queen or not, he was the king. You did not bring up the misfortune of his birth or the very thought of his disgraced brother.

You stood and swayed. With your child in your arms, you were paralysed. If it was just you, you might have the courage to act. Or perhaps that was the reasoning of a coward.

"Sit, mouse," he pointed at you with a long finger, "need I repeat myself that you are not to be involved in my marriage."

"I did not–"

"It was the child that gave you away," Sinthia cradled her cheek, "the product of your ill deeds."

"My child," Loki reared on her, "regardless of his mother, he is of my blood. I chose honour, I chose to care for him–"

"And how do you know that whore did not get the child by another–"

"You don't know so much as you think you do of me, I'm certain that's clearer to you now," he growled, "and less of this woman."

"I can see she is a commoner," the queen retorted.

"I wouldn't deny that."

"You will send her away."

"I will do as I please–"

"No, I am your wife, your queen, I will not have her in this city, let alone behind that very wall," her voice rose as she gestured to the open door, "and you will not touch me ag–"

She gurgled as Loki grabbed her by the throat. Your heart leapt and you rushed forward, an arm under Vali as you reached for Loki. That woman did not deserve to suffer for your misdeed. 

"I shall do whatever I deem necessary. You are my wife, you will obey, and you will not order me about like one of your servants," he barked.

"L– your majesty," you tugged on his sleeve, "please–"

"Back away, mouse. You've my child in your arms, that is your priority," he sneered.

"She is right, you should send me away–"

"You know nothing. Neither of you. Women. Do not presume to know what is best for me. My wife will mind her tongue and her temper," he swung her around and threw her against the wall, "and you will recall that you would be a dead whore without me."

"Your majesty, this cannot–"

"Another word and you will not see that child again. Not a soul as I would banish you back to the cell I dragged you out of. So go back into your chamber and be a good mother."

You glared at him, lip twitching in anger and fear.

"He is yours too, you wouldn't–"

"He needn't a mother to become a man," he grit out, "do not make me show you the way."

You gulped and peered down at your son. You had little doubt on Loki’s threats. He'd proven himself little different than the cruel king who had you lashed. You were nothing to him but a vessel that had born its fruit.

You lowered your head and retreated. Anything else would only make the circumstance worse. Not only for you, but the queen, and your child. Vali would have few enough friends in his lifetime.

"My queen, lift your skirts," he followed you as he tossed the order over his shoulder, "you desire a true husband, then act as wife."

He caught your arm and ushered you into the hidden room. You stumbled in, careful not to jostle Vali and faced the door as he slammed it. The child murmured and you quickly worked at settling him.

You hushed him as you heard Sinthia's angry tones. You stepped forward and angled your ear towards the panel. A shrill yipe followed and the scrape of wood, Loki’s snakish slither cutting through the air. 

There was more crashing, more shifting, and the battle of voices, both horrified and enraged. You put your hand over Vali's ear and pressed his other to your chest. He could no doubt hear your heart. Let it soothe him as you sit and listen to the consequence of your existence.

🐍

The king did not see you again for days. Nor did you hear Sinthia visit him in his chamber. He sent Birger to you to deliver food and what comfort the physician could offer. You ate and said little. And him the same.

Not until that day.

"The queen is aware of you."

"Did the king say so?" You wondered as Vali slept in his basket.

"I guessed it and he affirmed it," he intoned, "I advised him that you should be moved."

"You did?" You chewed on a chunk of dry cheese.

"I think it wise. Queen's are notoriously vengeful and this one is no different than most."

"Do you truly believe so?" You peeked over at the dozing babe.

"I've heard tales of her years as princess and most are well aware of her parentage."

"I am not," you counter and pull apart the thick crust from the puffy middle of a slice of bread.

"Ah, and what does a potter need know of queens," he shrugged, "her mother, Queen Lucinda, she has had… many husbands. The first she despised. A betrothal by obligation. Her father chose the prince himself. It is said Lucinda refused his bed until he petitioned for annulment. Her father was aghast and was henceforth found poisoned and the marriage dissolved."

"And Lucinda was the culprit?"

"So many whisper," he smiled at Vali as he twitched in his sleep. "The second husband, Sinthia's father, was her true love, so she claims, but he did not live in marital bliss very long. Two years and he was found dead at the bottom of a flight of stone steps. Some allege another had already claimed the queen's affections.

"Her third husband, the previously rumoured cad, married her but could not claim kinghood for his lowly birth. He lasted nine months and was executed for pinching a kitchen maid's bottom. The maid met the blade in turn as well."

"Perhaps Sinthia might not be so bad…by comparison."

"It is the nature of royalty. Which is why I made my suggestion."

"Hm," you grumbled, "and Lucinda, did she have many more husbands?" 

"I believe she's on seven now," he said, "but I may very well be a paranoid old man who has spent much too long among the spoiled and ruthless."

"And what did Loki say? When you suggested I go?"

"He did as all those who wear a title do. He did not listen," he rubbed his cheeks, "but I shall persist. Regardless of the mess he's made of his marriage, it is a cruel fate to be kept in such quarters. You and your son need sunlight."

"And would you come with us?"

"I don't know he would allow it, but who else could he trust?" He sighed, "and who else would you trust, dear?"

You smiled, a weak uncertain smile. 

"It mightn’t be so bad," you said, "if the queen has a son of her own–"

"Yours will still be a threat," he interrupted and placed a hand on the edge of the basket, "to be a bastard is ever dangerous."

“I know, I know,” you pet Vali’s head, “even if he only reminds me of his father, I can’t help but treasure him.”

“He needs one person in this world on his side. A bastard often only has his mother. Not his father. His father will expect him to become a noble, by the grace of his kingly breadth. To face a court full of vipers that hiss of his true origin,” Birger sighed, “he will need a thick skin, but more significantly, he will need you. The only person in this world he could ever be vulnerable to.”

You were silent as you watched the child. You couldn’t see him as a grown man, not yet. He was so tiny, so helpless.

“When he is called to court, I won’t be invited with him,” you met Birger’s eyes.

“You are the only person I’ve ever seen defy the king effectively. When the time comes, you will figure it out,” he girded, “but for now, keep the child close and safe with you. Whispers travel fast and the snakes coil in their dens. The king has many enemies and he is foolish to make one of his own wife.”

You nod and touch your stomach, a flurry of uncertainty nestled within, “Birger, good sir, you’ve saved my life many times, and I ask of you one last thing... I will protect this child to the death, if he is left alone, without me...”

“I would proudly steal him away and see him raised as you would have him. Not as the king’s pet or the queen’s donkey,” he avowed, leaning over to touch your hand, “the king does push away his allies. Myself included.”

[ride-thedragon]

Lady Laena Velayron Headcanons

(Adult Laena is a separate post. This is basically up until she would marry.)

1. After rejecting her hand, Viserys actually sent her the location of Vhagar and little updates about her sightings.

2. She claimed Vhagar after Laenor left for the Stepstones, appeasing Rhaenys by saying Melyes deserved company.

3. She looked a lot like and tried to dress like Jocelyn Baratheon.

4. When they were younger, she'd follow Laenor with a dragon egg to bond with Seasmoke.

5. She was the first person to ride with Laenor.

6. They would both get in trouble for leaving their rooms and finding themselves all over High Tide to sleep.

7. Anytime they were in King's Landing, she'd seek out Daemon or Corlys to talk too (at about 6)

8. Vaemond would carry her on his ships and into the city against her father's hesitation.

9. She was a good mediator between Vaemond and Laenor.

10. She took the blame once after catching Laenor with a squire when their father was looking for her.

11. Her favour for tourneys was always blue, gold with little perfumed flowers and pearls.

12. She'd give her favor to Joffrey at Tourneys in Laenor's place.

13. When she was introduced to the Braavosi Sealord, she did try to be less ladylike to get him to drop the matter. (Birdy core)

14. She got into a bad habit of sneaking away to Spice Town after the betrothal.

15. The first time she flew Vhagar, they ended up in King's Landing rather than Driftmark. Viserys congratulated her after attributing the feat to his father. A brave girl compliment was placed.

16. She got close to Rhaenyra on Driftmark and closer after the royal wedding.

17. She tried her best to help Laenor consumate their marriage after Joffrey's death. They would wear black as a symbol of mourning for him, but together, they did not let rumours spread too far.

18. She joined the court to be close to Laenor after his wedding.

19. She found Harwin strange and didn't care for his advances on Rhaenyra so soon after her wedding.

20. Seasmoke and Vhagar would fly together every morning when Laenor returned from the Stepstones.

21. They had a dream of being sellswords in Essos when they were younger.

22. Rhaenys would teach her about politics in a very similar way to Baela.

23. She was better at politicking than Laenor, but she'd go out of her way to teach him through her understanding.

Laena and Daemon

1. He very specifically was tasked with looking after Laenor by a young Laena

2. She had been very apathetic towards him when they all came back from he Stepstones, actively ignoring him all together.

3. She would've kept it up but she learned quickly after about Lady Rhea's untimely passing and saw an opportunity.

4. Vaemond warned her against seeking out his company before they got to King's Landing.

5. Throughout the rest of the wedding events (Viserys didn't cancel them), she always found herself around him, extending a personal invitation for him to stay at Driftmark.

6. She didn't tell Rhaenyra about her predicament and her plans to get rid of her fiancé as a result.

7. She proposed the offer to Daemon a day after he and Corlys had a very similar discussion. He said that she was using him, and she specifically said that it was only if he wanted to be useful.

8. They managed to sneak out twice to Spice town before getting caught and subsequently reprimanded by Rhaenys after being found in a brothel (no compromising this time)

9. Laena actively used her mother getting to choose Corlys to defend her actions (it didn't go well)

10. She went out of her way to kiss someone else before marrying him.

11. They would casually wander the shore during the tide idly to avoid the Son of the Sea Lord.

12. Rhaenys did not like the idea of her marrying Daemon at first until Laena went out of her way to prove that she'd prefer it.

13. She flew to King's Landing with Rhaenys to let Viserys know about the wedding, he was upset and did not attend. He didn't object however.

14. After learning about it, Rhaenyra leaned more to Harwin despite Laena's insistence that nothing would change.

15. They started flying together during the stay of the Braavosi sea Lord.

16. Daemon insulted the Sea Lord not only by demeaning him but also by implying that he'd compromised Laena.

17. They had three separate ceremonies for their union, one on Driftmark, one in King's Landing, and a secret Valaryian adjacent ceremony.

18. She'd joke about the fact that it was heavily speculated that he hadn't slept with Lady Rhea throughout their marriage with him and her mother.

19. He'd kissed her before they were married.

20. The first time he mentioned leaving for Essos, she thought he was making a joke about her past fiancé.

21. In a similar stroke to Laenor, she was known to be very close to her lady companions on Driftmark and in Spice town.

22. Their respective wedding band stones blue (sapphaire) for him and red (ruby) for her to wear representing the other.

23. He'd joke about the idea that the only reason she sought him out was because of Vhagar's influence on her. (Vhagar was his dad's dragon before, and caraxes was her granddad's dragon)

[aemonds-wifey]

Home Part One

Summary: Aemond brings you upsetting news, immediately being your comfort and you need to return home north

(Authors note : Smut 18+)

“Shall I tell the princess …?” Maester Mellor asked

Aemond shook his head “No…I will do it. “ he gently took the ravenscroll from the maesters hand and walked slowly down the corridor back to the chambers you shared.

Opening the door slowly and closed it behind him he held the scroll closely to his chest. He took a sharp breath before silently walking to find you admiring the books Aemond had kept on a large oak bookcase.

He did not speak, he simply exhaled slowly and you turned around smiling at him. “Aemond there you are…I’ve just been to see Aelor in the nursery…”

He didn’t move, he stood there not taking his eye of you, the expression on his face alarmed you as your smile faded

“What is it..?” You asked taking a step forward to him.

He kept the scroll to his chest, looking at you with a sorrow you had not seen before, he looked scared.

“I’m so..so very sorry my love…” he said

Your breath was hitched as you looked into his eye “What is it..?” You repeated worryingly

His hand gently palmed your back and pulled you into him against your chest, your hands clasped over his on his chest as he looked down into your eyes

“Your father…my dear sweet girl he…has passed. I am so sorry.”

Your heart sank , you felt like you had been stood on a trap door and the door had crumbled into ash beneath your feet. You buckled your shoulders and your head fell against Aemonds broad chest. His hand grazed up your back, squeezing the skin as he moved up to the back of your head . Gently stroking your long wavy hair, his chin rested on the top of your head , occasionally kissing your head as he comforted you. He held you with such reassurance that the sadness in you was raw but you were in the arms of the man you loved, he was here for you and after a few moments of silent comfort, he softly spoke “my darling wife I know my words will offer little comfort but I will do what I can to ease your pain…”

You looked up at him , adoringly humbled by his words you knew how difficult this was for him , to respond to vulnerability that you were feeling, to try and comfort you and reassure you that he was there for you. This only made you love him more.

He wiped the tears away from your cheek and kissed the top of your head softly, you closed your eyes at the feel of his lips against your skin.

“You are a balm my love” you whispered

You felt his lips grow with a smile as you spoke.

He scanned your face “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“What else does the scroll say?”

Aemond quietly spoke “They will lay your father to rest by next week.”

You shuddered slightly , even if you left now you would never get there in time “I won’t make it…It’s a months ride from here to Winterfell.” You sighed

Aemond found your gaze and looked at you deeply “I’ll take you…we’ll go on Vhagar.”

You frowned “What…?”

“You should be there…see your father laid to rest...and I will be there for you…by your side.”

You heart fluttered again at his magnanimous gesture , you reached up and kissed him

“Thank you…my dear sweet Husband …” you said as his nose rested against yours

“To Winterfell then…” he said quietly .

*

The pure white backdrop of the familiar tundra you had grown up with was majestic to see again after so long. Aemond set Vhagar down just beyond the walls of Winterfell, As Aemond stood on the snow for the first time he looked in marvel at the surroundings, he had never seen or experienced this cold before.

As you and Aemond walked into the great hall of Winterfell you noticed how Aemond took in the sights differently, the castle walls, the way people spoke and dressed. He was fascinated by new surroundings and what was once your home.

The squire announced you “Prince Aemond and Princess Y/N of house Targaryen.” As the warmth of the hall struck you both and your eyes immediately

Fell to the new Lord of Winterfell standing by the hearth.

Your brother stood there, with a few household staff to greet you. He did not look too pleased when he saw Aemond was with you . Seeing Cregan you were instantly reminded of your father, how you would never see him again, you were sad but in truth you had said goodbye to him when you left to marry Aemond…it was still A sorrowful return to Winterfell.

“Sister…” he said holding his hands out.

You took them, Aemond stood next to you- looking at Cregan.

“Prince Aemond…welcome to Winterfell.” He said coldly “had I known you were coming I would have made arrangements…how did you get here so quickly?” He asked

“We came by dragon…otherwise my dear wife would have missed the funeral.” Aemond spoke.

His velvety voice silenced Cregan for a moment “You brought your dragon?”

“Mmmm” Aemond answered .

“Any other surprises sister?” Cregan Said as he looked at you

“No just us…we left Aelor in Kings Landing…”

Cregan frowned “Aelor…?”

Aemond almost glared and was not able to say anything as you spoke first “Our son…your nephew …I wrote to you telling you about him.”

Cregan shook his head with a tedious smile “Ah yes…sorry sister , well it is a long journey for a child.” He said.

Aemond inhaled sharply, you noticed he placed his hands behind his back.

Cregan looked a little frightened at Aemonds stance , he cleared his throat “I’m glad you are here…we will lay father to rest in the crypt next to mother tomorrow and then say a few words by the tree.”

You nodded “Good brother…thank you.”you knew tomorrow would be a tough day, but you were already at ease with Aemond being with you.

You looked around “I see nothing had changed much…”

He nodded “You can stay in your old chambers if you like…father insisted on leaving it the way you left it.”

You smiled “Ah the old sentimental fool…we will stay there.”

He nodded, briefly looking at Aemond before nodding towards the servant standing by the door “If you will

Show my sister and Prince Aemond to their rooms…they will be tired from their journey. “

Cregans dismissal was typical, Aemond had clearly intimidated him and your brother could not do confrontation.

“I will See you both at dinner tonight …” He said “now if you’ll excuse me I have matters to attend to, Lord Bolton is coming for the funeral.” He said and with that he swiftly left the hall. Aemond looked so unimpressed yet his lips curved into a smile of taunt, you caught it and couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. A young servant approached you and bowed before you both “Princess, Prince …if you would like to follow me.”

*

You opened the door to your chambers you inhabited as a young girl, it was nicely sized and circular - with a view that overlooked the beautiful winter landscape of the north. The last time you stood here was the day your life changed forever the day you left for kings Landing to marry Aemond.

It was bizzare to see him wonder your room, examining trinkets and parts of your life. You closed the door and watched Aemond graze his fingers along your old dressing table, he noticed a circular wooden box with a lock - he looked at you “What secretive belongings are housed in here my dear?”

You grinned and walked over, opening one of the drawers and taking a small book out, as you opened this book a compartment was visible at the back and from there you produced a key. You handed it to Aemond, who smiled with curiosity and opened the box.

He paused at the site of dozens of raven scrolls, the broken targaryen seal in one corner of the box. His hand ruffled through gently, before looking at you “Aee these….?”

You nodded “All your letters you sent me in our youth…I kept them.”

The expression on his face was something you did not expect, he seemed to be sad at first but the look of love he projected onto you was unmistakable

He pulled you into a tight embrace , exhaling slowly as you held you close and securely. You were unsure what to say.

You waited a few moments before looking up at him “Aemond…?” You checked

He caught his breath a moment and took your hands into his, holding them against his chest.

“I wonder to the gods why I was sent such a beautiful, smart and loyal wife…all the misery that had befallen me…I do not deserv-“

You cut him off with a quick tender kiss , one of your hands slid up to cup his sharp jaw

“You deserve everything Aemond…you are a good man, a wonderful and loving husband and the most attentive father …I count my blessings everyday…I would not want anyone else by my side , in both bad and good days…”

He blinked once “You do?”

You nodded “I love you dearly Aemond…nothing will ever change that.” You said kissing his hands.

He exhaled sharply and you felt his breath breeze over your fingers. He smiled lightly at you

“The only good thing my father ever did….betroth me to you .” He said before kissing you deeply.

You moaned into his mouth as his hand clutched onto the base of your spine , in turn your hands slithered up his chest and began to frivolously unfasten his tunic.it dropped to the floor , your hands moved to his firm shoulders and you swirled him around to the bed- pushing him down on his back. His eye was wide in desire at your confidence.

You sat on him, feeling his hard cock twitch against your folds as his hands squeezed your thighs, he sat up and laced the corset strings in between his fingers - pulling on them exposing your breasts, he latched onto one of your breasts with his mouth, your head fell back in intense pleasure as his other hand pulled down your underwear and feeling his thumb circle your sensitive bundle against your core. You leaned forward bringing Aemonds head up to meet your lips, as he slipped a finger inside you you bit his lip. A frustrated moan left your lips as His hands broke away from your wet folds, he fumbled with his front and you felt his cock break free - you firmly placed your hands on his shoulders as you shuffled yourself to sink onto him- as he slowly entered you you gasped and squeezed the skin on his shoulders. You wrapped your arms around his neck .

As your hips rolled against him, one of his hands graced up your spine and held the back of your neck as he met your hip rolls with thrusts and ecstatic moans of pleasure. His other hand was wrapped around your back, holding you securely- you kissed the side of his head as you cried out his name again and again, he in turn bit down on the skin on your collarbone, which only intensified the waves of Pleasure you were experiencing.

“Aemond I’m…” your voice broke as you felt your walls clench around him, in a sweet moment your exhaled your sounds of high satisfaction against his temple, he groaned deeply , the vibrations of his voice and his release was too much and you heart hit a point of pure ecstasy. You both came together and you felt him empty himself inside you, holding on tight both of your gasps settled, breathing back in rhythm together. Aemond fell back bringing you with him, kissing your lips softly as he stayed inside you, your fingers ran through his now messy silver hair, smiling as you felt his hands smoothly caress your back.

“I love you Y/N” you heard him whisper in between kisses

You smiled at his declaration , you would never tire of hearing him profess his love to you, it was like music to your ears.

“I love you too.” You answered with a loving kiss.

Part Two

TAGS

@schniiipsel @moonchildrenandflowercrowns @chainsawsangel @mischiefmanaged71 @nolongereviliwantlove @motley-baby @bcon24 @lauraneedstochill @tssf-imagines @bbyaemond @polkadotsocks1993 @yentroucnagol @arcielee @talesofoldandnew @namoreno

[justalittletomato]

Now there was always difficulty in child rearing, more so in the case of young Zabraks.

The little tomato twins as so charmingly dubbed by their buir was weaning the little ones to solids.

However there was a dilemma…

Zabraks are more carnivorous, but as warned by Savage the little ones were no where near ready for delights such as Bantha steak or roasted tip yip.

Maul was also at a loss, with no memory of those early months or any experience with young Zabraks. His anxiety about the situation was “subtle” as he poured over books and prodded Savage for more information. “ I honestly can’t narrow it down, brother! The nightbrothers brought to us were fully weaned and already ready for meat cuts!” The golden night brother becoming worried for his own little ones who were just a few months younger…

Maul grumbled and looked over another book, meanwhile Starlight gently gave the twins a nice spoonful of bone broth. They delighted in the meal.

Cressie especially, almost seeming to dance in his high chair while his sister made a whining sound for more.

“They do love broth….”

“Bone broth? Oh yes it’s a favorite!” Savage commented.

“The marrow is the best part,” muttered a still upset Maul.

Starlight handed the bowl to Maul, an idea stewing in mind.

“The marrow….”

Savage and Maul were always generous with the bones in the broth, with a careful use of a knife, Starlight parted a bone.

Marrow. Soft and cooked, stir it enough and it should make a nice purée!

Starlight got to work.

A bowl of marrow, whipped up to a almost butter consistency. Perfect.

Well for starters the brother’s immediately looked to Starlight and their creation.

The aroma wafting about and little Cressie sniffing the air for the source. He waves his arms excitedly. Their little boy loved food!

Little Aster sniffed and cooed. More interest.

“Marrow, the best part” Starlight told the babies and raised a spoonful to Cress. He seemed hesitant but opened his mouth.

His little feet kicked and a grin spread over his face.

“Looks like we have a taker! Maul you give Aster some, you know your daughter, she’ll fuss less with you.”

No fuss was had. The twins happily ate up the whipped marrow with gusto and also a bit messily.

A bath would need to be ordered.

Maul already chatting about squiring more bones for the twins, “ Oh they’d love some Bantha, oh maybe a porg? Might need a bagful but…”

It was good to see Maul’s anxiety lessen, “ a gentle squeeze to the arm, “ One day at a time my Dawn…a Bantha will do fine for a long while.” A reassuring kiss to his cheek, “ Now does that mean you will go hunt it yourself?”

A low laugh, “ Of course, our little ones deserve grand foods.” Another squeeze to the arm, “and I will get them personally…”

Starlight smiles gently, “ what lucky little tomatoes we have..”

@patchiefrog @gran-maul-seizure @eyecandyeoz @storm89 @by-the-primes @pixiestookourstardust @apocalypticwafflekitten

[tillthelandslide]

I really wanna see what the boys / Matty would be like when Lou gets sick on tour

Another scheduled post but enjoyyyyyy. Loved writing this one bc thought the idea was freaking adorable

Series Masterlist

Previous part

She had been off the whole show, her voice still sounded amazing but she kept having to take time out at the end of a song and blow her nose or drink some water.

The tour manager was standing at the side of the stage with Jamie, both of them kept looking at her, furrowing their eyebrows. At one point she heard Matty speak into her in ears "are you alright love?" He asks and she watches as all the boys look over at her, awaiting her reply.

She chuckles before saying "feel like death", it's dramatic and she's (half) joking but they all look worried as they look at her. The whole ordeal goes seemingly unnoticed by the crowd and they continue the set.

"don't think I can do about you..." she says at one point when she's off stage, taking a much needed out when she got given the opportunity, when it was only Matty performing.

Jamie stares at her, looking over her features, almost scanning her face. He could tell she looked disappointed and upset but more than anything she looked tired and a little clammy.

He places a hand against her forehead "love you're boiling, you need to rest" Jamie says and Lou's the one furrowing her eyebrows now.

"what are you saying? Not to go back out there?" She asks, before she sneezes again.

The rest of the boys come off stage, having finished the first half.

Jamie looks behind her and begins talking to someone (Matty) "she can't go back out there, she's burning up and she needs to rest", she feels a hand on her shoulder so she turns, seeing Matty.

He looks more worried than the rest of them and the most worried she had ever seen him. He takes in her disheveled appearance, features softening as a hand rests against her forehead.

"You alright love?" He asks, despite knowing she wasn't. She shakes her head and he sees tears appear in her eyes, not wanting to disappoint the band, she needed him to make the decision right now, if not to just take the pressure of her.

"don't worry bout it love. I've got you" he says, gently pulling her to him, placing a gentle kiss to the side of her head.

He turns almost immediately to the group "okay Jamie, you alright to take over all the keys?" He asks and squire nods.

"Polly, can you jump on backing vocals and do Lou's part for about you?"

"of course" she says and Matty then turns to her.

"sorted" he smiles down at her.

"but-"

"nope, you're going to go back to the hotel, Jamie will get you everything you need and you're going to rest until you're better okay?" He all but demands and she smiles a tired but soft smile at him, nodding.

"Good" he says, pulling her into a hug "I'll be right with you as soon as we're done" he says, with a kiss to her head.

"okay that's enough, we don't need you getting sick too" Jamie says, practically having to pull Matty off her.

"I love you" Matty says before he has to walk back on stage. They miss the smiles in everyone's faces at his words.

Jamie drives with her to the hotel and he helps her get undressed (respectfully of course) seeing as she had no energy to do it herself.

"Jamie I think I'm going to faint" she says as she tries to grab a shirt from her suitcase, he's quick to grab her as she wobbles.

Jamie looks around the room, finding a black shirt folded on the bed, he quickly grabs it and helps her put it on before he's ushering her into the bed.

Her eyes are heavy and she's slowly drifting off to sleep but can hear him shuffle around the room.

"Lou... Love, you've for water here and some cough syrup, some paracetamol..." He continues listing the things he's put on her bedside table but she's too sleepy to pay attention. She moves about in the bed, suddenly getting a wiff of Matty's scent making her eyes snap open. Upon reflection she sees that she's wearing his shirt.

"This is Matty's shirt..." She says weakly, smiling before groaning as she coughs more.

"It will have to do" Jamie says, she wasn't complaining anyway.

"okay... I'll be right across the hall okay? And Matty will be back soon to look after you" Jamie says and she smiles.

"Going to let him? Might get sick?" She says, her words coming out in a jumbled mess but Jamie understands.

"I couldn't stop that man if I tried... Not when it comes to you" she falls asleep after that, only waking when she hears the door open and Mattys voice.

"Hiya love... How ya feeling?" He asks and she realises he's sitting on the bed next to her.

"like death" she says, coughing some more. Matty leaves her a second before he's back at her side with some water and medicine.

"take these" he says, his voice stern.

"don't want them" she moans.

"Lou.... Take the god damn medicine" he says and she groans before doing as he says. He returns the items to where he found them before pulling her to his chest.

"Now sleep" he demands.

"don't want you getting sick"

"well I'm not going anywhere that's for sure. Now sleep" she couldn't disobey his order if she tried, she was to tired and ill for that anyway.

The next morning it's George who she wakes up too, he's brought her soup and more medicine.

"Matty had to attend to a dirty hit thing... Hates Jamie for it... But you've got me instead" George says and then he's making her drink the soup he's brought and take the medicine.

"Need anything else love?" George says, knowing one thing: she was clingy when she's ill.

"Could do with a cuddle from my best friend" he's lying back against the headboard of the bed then, pulling her into him and wrapping his arms around her.

The door opens at one point when she's drifted off the sleep in George's arms, revealing Ross who smiles sympathetically at her.

"How's she feeling" he asks, standing at the end of the bend.

"Bit better" George says, looking down at his best friend, moving some hair from her face. Her eyes drift open and she smiles up at Ross.

"Hi rockstar" he says making her smile wider.

"Jamie's going to kill me if I get all of you ill" she says and Ross chuckles.

"How about you let us worth about that? We want to be here" he says and George nods in agreement.

"Hanns gone to get you more medicine" Ross informs them before crawling into the bed, huffing her tightly, nodding to George to let him know he could go if he wanted. She then proceeds to fall asleep again. Waking up to Hann who gives her a tight squeeze and her medicine, wanting be careful as he didn't want to get sick and risk making Carly sick too.

One things for certain, every single one of them would be tending to her as much as they could when she was ill and they would be adamant that she wasn't to perform until she was 100% better.

[greatbritishsimchallenge]

Elizabeth headed down to the lower level of the pub, where a man sat at the bar. She took the seat beside him and drank from the wine he had waiting for her.

"Lady Elizabeth, it is wonderful to see you. Thank you for writing to me," the man greeted.

"There was no way I was going to miss visiting you when I came home! I've missed you terribly, Edmund."

"I've missed you too. Are you still riding?"

"Daily. Though my new squire is nothing compared to you. How hard will it be for me to convince you to come to Brindleton Bay and become my squire?"

Edmund smiled, "I'm honoured by the offer, my Lady, but I think your father would be more than a little upset with you for stealing his staff."

"Oh, pish posh, papa has plenty of squires. He'll barely notice you're gone. I, on the other hand, have longed for you every day. My horse feels unruly and messy now compared to when you cared for her."

Elizabeth ran her finger around the rim of her glass before saying suggestively, "there are other things I've missed about you too..."

Edmund subtly looked around to check for eavesdroppers before responding, "As have I."

"Did I tell you I'm staying in Windenburg tonight?" asked Elizabeth, seemingly changing topic. "I didn't feel up for travelling so far at night."

"Very understandable, my Lady."

"I've actually booked at room at this very inn," Elizabeth kept her eyes fixed on Edmund and smiled.

Edmund smiled knowingly in return, "A good choice, my Lady. I hear the beds are very comfortable. You shall have a good night's rest before your travels tomorrow."

Elizabeth sighed breathily and whispered, "I don't want to rest."

Without another word, she got up from the bar and began to walk towards the inn's bedrooms. Edmund waited until she was out of sight before following after her.

Edmund pushed open the door to Elizabeth's bedroom and she ran into his arms, passionately kissing him.

"Finally," said Elizabeth as Edmund lifted her into his arms, "to be with a man with some energy!"

As he threw her down onto the bed, Elizabeth moaned, "are you sure you won't come to Brindleton? We could be as we were - my husband would never suspect."

Edmund untied Elizabeth's dress and replied, "Perhaps I can be convinced."

Start (Iron Age) | Start (Roman Britain) | Start (Anglo Saxon) | Start (Medieval) | Start (Tudor)

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[secondratefiction]

Would you be willing to write headcanons about Friodo falling in love with a human warrior reader (like Boromir's squire or something) please?

Let's give it a shot...

You weren't even supposed to be going to Rivendell, but you'd been glued to Boromir's side since he'd agreed to take you on and train you.

While you were exploring the first night, you happened to meet a few curious little creatures. At first you thought they were children, but that idea was quickly squashed.

Hobbits they called themselves, they were all quite friendly and you spent most of your evening talking to them, but one in particular stood out...

Where Merry and Pippin were loud and boisterous, Frodo was quiet but no less good, fun company... there was just something about the oldest hobbit that kept drawing your attention.

The next day the council of Elrond was held. You were not invited...

Not to be perturbed by such an insignificant fact, you very much found a spot to hide yourself and listen... There was talk of Mordor and Sauron, of evil you could only barely begin to understand, fighting about who should get the ring, who would be the one to destroy it... And then you heard it:

"I will take it. I will take the ring to Mordor."

Frodo Baggins, the sweet hobbit from the night before had sealed his fate, and one by one the others joined him.

You met them Just outside of the gates and the Fellowship started their match towards Mordor. Boromir was furrios

"I thought I sent you home with the others!"

"You're here of your own decision, I'm here of mine."

The two of you bickered for hours, but the party didn't stop, and short of tying you to a rock himself, Boromir couldn't stop you either.

The first several days passed well enough, mostly it was walking. Lots of walking. Which gave you lots of time to speak with Frodo.

He told you stories of the Shire, of rivers and fields he'd grown up exploring, of mischief Merry and Pippin would often rope him into, all sorts of story of his uncle Bilbo - those were his favorites, Frodo's fondness of the man shining through.

In return you told him stories of your own childhood in Gondor, growing up in Minas Tirith. Learning to race horses even before your legs were long enough to reach the stirrups, how you always followed the Guards and Rangers around the training fields until Boromir finally took pity and agreed to train you himself.

Boromir himself interjected that pity had nothing to do with it. Only that it would have been a shame to let such potential go to waste.

It wasn't until Moria that the reality of it all started to sink in... Gandalf was gone, the rest of you'd only barely survived due to his sacrifice.

Lothlorien was a bit of a blur, you were still in shock, reeling from it all when you loaded up into elven boats and started down the river.

As upset as you were though, you could tell Frodo was taking it harder. More than that, the last night in the Realm of Galadriel had done something to him... He was more sullen, more with drawn, something weighed heavy on his mind and heart.

Not that any one had much time to deal with that...

You had gone out with Frodo to gather wood for a fire when your Master confronted him. Frodo vanished right before your very eyes. It was only then that Boromir noticed you... He seemed almost broken, but you took off after where something in you just knew Frodo would be going.

And you were right. You caught him just as He was loading a boat to cross the river. Both you and Sam being steadfast in the idea of going with him... You even swam the whole bloody thing to prove your seriousness.

But Frodo was firm... the ring corrupted Boromir, the most honorable and steadfast man you knew. There was no one Frodo could really trust, and as much as he wanted, almost needed, you to come along; he couldn't. The task appointed to him was too great for that kind of risk.

Really, he shouldn't even be taking Sam, but he knew there was nothing he could say or do to convince his friend to stay.

And so, he helped you back into the boat, Frodo and Sam helping you push off the bank so you could row yourself back over to the other side. Both hearts heavy with the parting, and sincerely wishing for the opportunity to meet again when this was all said and done.

[fluffypotatey]

Yeah, the Knights of the Round Table are cool, but what about the Squires of the Round Table? I want to know about the pack of hapless adolescents that are supposed to be learning the finer points of knighthood from THEE most chaotic bastards to ever share a braincell.

(Merlin unknowingly becomes, like, the patron saint of squires bc if he can handle Arthur, they can handle their respective masters as well)

no ok i'm in love with this. the squires of the round table is the spin off i didn't know we needed, but by GOD am i glad you told me, anon.

(you are a GEM, anon, i'm in love with you)

the squires for knights are the round table's adopted children. oh, sorry, was that kid the son of such and such??? he's leon's boy now. they all have youngest sibling syndrome so sorry i don't make the rules and yes they do treat merlin like he's a mob wife.

anyway,

these squires would get up to so much shit omfg. if you're the squire to gwaine, have fun upsetting your noble father (because most squires come from the nobility and since arthur took down that rule when he became, then there became this influx of squires who were from the common people) and learning that doing illegal shit is the best thing and you've only tasted a sliver of what gwaine has been doing since he was 13 but you LOVE IT---

squires of sir leon are trained into how to become the mom friend. it's not much, but it's hard work. sometimes the little squires pity their knight because he is not paid enough for for the antics his other knights and king get into ("poetry??? seriously, is that what they told him???" "idk that's roland said" "maybe we should gift him some more moisturizer?"). yes they do treat sir leon with the respect they would give an older cousin.

sir elyan is very new to all this...squire business but he's not one to let his little men (little brothers tbh) be caught slacking. he has them run drills everyday and they complain about it all the time ,but then you'll find them in an empty room perfecting their forms, and making sure it's perfect because sir elyan deserves the best. and he called nathan's form "superb" but nathan's a bitch and you just think that if you get this form right---

elyan teaches his squires moves that were taught to him by tristan and isolde because they totally worked together while elyan was away and he respects them so much and misses them and wonders if they ever got the chance to settle down and breath like they had dreamed

sir percival is second on the list of knights who teaches his squires the more traditional way (first is leon obvi) but that does not mean he let's them fall behind with dirty tricks. listen, this man was friends with lancelot (honorable, noble, dreamed of being a knight since he was prob 15) so he knows the intricacies of knighthood; however, he is also besties with gwaine and elyan both of whom are a chaotic combination if put in the same room. the squires are granted the perfect balance of swishy swordplay and body slamming a bitch. sleeves??? don't know her. the squires beg percival for them to cover their arms and he is offended.

sir lancelot, the epitome of honor and loyalty, is a force to work with. the squires think that he'll be the one whose teaching will lead them far off adventures and gain cool ass scares. lancelot is actually the old coot who grants wisdom like an old man who's lived two lifetimes. his training is unusual but somehow it works. the chores he assigns aren't demeaning, nor are they used as punishment. you are lancelot's squire for a week and you immediately understand that this man is a man who has his heart on his sleeve and you watch as he gazes at the king, the queen, and the manservant. his eyes always fond and full of...something. you are too young to pick up on a deep and unconditional emotion like that. not yet.

[juliakeyoto]

I know your post is just a quick run-down but I need an excuse to rant because the consequences of nobility and crest in this game is just so horrific and there's so much details about it:

- Felix and Dimitri were used as child soldier ( as a squire and a commander ) at 15 to suppress a rebellion of the Western Kingdom. It's probably just as much part of their trauma as Duscur. Felix even add they learn to raise a sword before learning to read.

- Ingrid, not even an adult, dream to become a soldier so she can escape the situation you mentioned. And when she become one it's nearly to the point of being suicidal ( especially looking at AG )

- Felix and especially Annette dad favor the prince over their own children

- Annette is pushed by her uncle to excel in every traditional skill of an housewife to not "devaluate her crest" ( Dedue support )

- Marianne, Sylvain, Dimitri, Linhardt, Bernadetta are all pushed in role they don't want because they're noble. Not only that, but even those who do want the role like Lorenz suffer from the pressure

- The beast that killed Raphael parents is implied to be released because of nobles infighting

- Claude and Leonie support, Dimitri suspicion on Arundel because he stopped giving to the Church, the lady hiding in the Abyss because she is of another religion, the banned books of the Abyss etc all seem to indicate the Church doesn't tolerate any kind of blasphemy, criticism or other religion

And as for the Church could do. They could use their power and influence over the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus to stop a literal genocide. They could use the endless knowledge they amassed and censored to saves countless lives, like for example solving the famine in Faerghus which Rhea is able do as per AG. They could be teaching orphan they rescued ( like Cyril ) basic education like reading instead of fighting and reciting prayer. They could tolerate other religion instead of forcing believer to live hidden underground.

Sorry for the the random long-ass ask but you post resonate so much with me, it's genuinely so upsetting to see people not only defend the Church but also justify everything mentioned in thoses not even exhaustive list

Hey, I completely understand you! I wanted to cover as many people as possible, with little detail just to kinda hammer the point in. You’ve got a great list! You should do one of these yourself lol. I haven’t seen Dedue supports for a while, or played through all of AG, so I get you