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ja3yun · 1 month

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Royal Sacrifice | S.JY | pt.2

prince!jake x maid!fem reader warnings: tiny bit of fluff, angst, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, nipple play, whiney jake, my attempt to write posh-ish (again), longing, not proofread, anything else lmk! wc: 12.5k synopsis: with prince jaeyun set to marry another woman, revelations of the true plans behind the marriage come to light which leave you struck with conflicting emotions and lead to an outcome you could never have anticipated. part one a/n: hi! it is me once again. this was heavily requested to have a part 2 so i am being ever so kind and giving it to you all! i held a poll to see if you guys wanted a long chapter or shorter and long won so ofc its 12k (sigh) anyway, please enjoy it! this was really fun to write even though it's not my usual style, i hope this ending serves you better than part one did hehe.

3 months. It has been 3 months since you last saw the prince, the love of your life. Ever since the king made his speech declaring the marriage of Prince Jaeyun and Princess Mia, your heart has not stopped shedding pieces of itself. With each part that breaks away, you hope they reach him somehow.

Currently, he is in Lethamhill, fulfilling a tour of the Kingdom that will best help him serve the country once the merger is to happen. You haven’t ventured past the walls of Glengyre, so as you imagine him exploring and getting to know the people, being his charming self, you can only imagine the backdrop to be similar to your home, hopefully with a little more prosperity.

It has been hard to focus on your duties while your brain is occupied with a forbidden love, a love that can never be. Of course, you told him to do this, practically pushing him into the new role of a husband to a woman who is not you, yet, you don’t find any comfort in knowing you both did the right thing.

He was willing to fight in the front line, to disregard any idea of marrying another, all for the sake of you and your love. It is a love that comes once in a lifetime and it is a love that has the power to destroy worlds. You could not sit back and in your right mind watch the Prince throw away his people for you, it’s unethical and illogical, thus, you had no choice but to push him away.

But you still loved him all the same, that fire of affection will always burn for him.

Despite your longing, his absence has made it somewhat easier to grasp the idea that you can no longer hold him or feel his warmth through your veins. Being in the same room as him will only hurt you more.

He has to come back at some point, and that point is any day now.

Princess Mia must also do her rounds throughout Glengyre if she is to be a Princess of this kingdom as well as her own. You aren’t one to gossip but the chatter around the servant's quarters is that she is spoiled and entitled, everything Jaeyun despises. There might not be any truth to it, senseless rumours about her attitude could easily be spread in response to some jealous people looking for an excuse to hate her all because Jaeyun is off limits now.

It didn’t matter, true or not, they were to be wed in a matter of months regardless of personal feelings.

As you dust off the ornaments lined up neatly on the mantlepiece in the hallway, you hear the main entrance doors open, a commotion following. You peer around the corner to catch a glimpse, curious as to who graces the castle at this early hour.

Then you see Princess Mia with her arm hooked onto Jaeyun, smiling up at him with doe eyes.

That was another truth you did not want to face once he returned; that he could, in fact, have fallen in love with her.

“My boy! How was your trip?” The king’s ambitious voice echoes through the entire castle.

Jaeyun smiles gracefully, bowing as he approaches his father, “It went well, Your Majesty,” he says at a far lesser decibel than his father.

Princess Mia looks at Jaeyun like he is the only man in the world which only serves to make your stomach twist. It is so obvious this would happen, Jaeyun is so easy to fall in love with, anyone would be foolish to spend more than a few hours with him and fail to be enamoured by him.

You almost knock over the clock you are pretending to dust as your eyes stay glued to the scene before you. Your brain is trying to determine Jaeyun’s feelings towards his fiance, are the feelings of adoration mutual or does he still see this as a contractual marriage?

Does he still love you?

"Y/N, back to work, please. We do not eavesdrop on the Royals," Miss Son chides in a hushed tone, jolting you back to attention.

You bow apologetically, hastening your dusting with a newfound fervour, cheeks burning with embarrassment under Miss Son's pointed gaze. She says no more, retreating to attend to her own duties and leaving you to yours.

As you resume your task, the distant murmur of voices from the royals serves as a constant reminder of his presence despite the fact he is no longer in your line of sight. Jaeyun’s voice threads through the air like a siren’s song, beckoning you to his side once more.

But you cannot answer.

_____

As you diligently scrub the remnants of the Royal's lunch from the plates, the imposing figure of the Chamberlain disrupts the tranquillity of the kitchen, her presence commanding attention as she raps sharply on the wooden table.

“Y/N?” she asks quizzically as she does not know who the name would belong to.

It’s tiny situations like this that make you miss Jaeyun even more. The Crown Prince's effortless familiarity with over a hundred staff members stands in stark contrast, a testament to his respect and appreciation for every individual, regardless of their status.

Turning to face the Chamberlain, you offer a respectful bow, "Yes, Ma'am?"

"Ah, excellent. Please cease your current tasks and accompany me. Your presence has been requested," she instructs, her tone brooking no argument.

Your heart skips a beat, thoughts racing as you wonder what could possibly warrant such a summons. Swallowing your apprehension, you quickly set aside the plates and follow the Chamberlain, your footsteps echoing faintly in the corridor as you trail behind her.

The corridors of the castle seem to stretch endlessly, each step accompanied by a mounting sense of anticipation. You steal a glance at the Chamberlain's stoic profile, but her expression reveals nothing, leaving you to speculate about why you have been called.

Maybe the King and Queen finally discovered your clandestine relationship with the Prince, perhaps this is the moment all of your past rendezvous catch up to you. What would this mean? Would they behead you, exile you from the very kingdom you call home, or was it something much more sinister?

Finally, you arrive at a grand door, adorned with intricate carvings and gilded accents. The Chamberlain pauses, turning to regard you with a stern gaze, "Remember your place," she warns, before pushing open the door and ushering you inside.

As you walk into the large dining hall, you see an abundance of eyes on you. The entire Royal family, along with their trusted valets have their attention on you.

You scour the table for Jaeyun, whose eyes glisten with longing and disbelief. He cannot believe you are standing in front of him once again, albeit in different circumstances than he would like.

To him, you look as pretty as the day he was escorted away to Lethamhill, but he can sense that you haven’t been well; your tired eyes and slumped body are a testament. He could only wish to ease the pain from your body just as his soft hands used to do.

“Miss Y/N, is it?” the Queen inquires, eyeing you up and down.

With a nod, you avoid direct eye contact, “Yes, Your Majesty. Y/N L/N,” your hands tremble slightly as you speak, seeking stability by clutching your skirt, attempting to rid the clamminess that has settled upon them.

The King rises from his seat, intrigued by your surname and background, “L/N… Is that the same L/N who oversees the mill near the Dochart River?” he probes.

Regrettably, you must correct him, “No, Your Majesty. My father toils in the mines, and my mother gathers berries,” a tinge of shame colours your words as you recount your family's humble occupations.

Both your parents worked tirelessly to provide for your family, yet their efforts often fell short. When they left you with your siblings, it wasn't out of neglect but out of necessity, seeking better opportunities in other regions where wealth flowed more readily - a circumstance not dissimilar to yours right now.

The room falls into a weighted silence, the King's brows knit together in thought. “Ah, I see,” he murmurs, clearly disinterested in you now.

You brace yourself for judgment, but to your surprise, Princess Mia speaks up, a soft smile on her face, “Hardworking stock, it is admirable,” she remarks with no hint of sarcasm, her tone warm.

A glimmer of pride graces your features at her acknowledgement, a brief respite from the anxiety flickering around your insides. You still don’t know why you are here, so you cannot let your guard down so easily.

"Miss L/N, may I introduce Princess Mia of Lethamhill. I trust you are familiar with her impending union with the Prince?" the Queen's gaze steers you towards the Princess, who maintains a gracious smile.

"Yes, Your Majesty. It is indeed an honour to be in your presence," you reply with a respectful curtsy, offering a warm smile in return.

She makes her way to you, holding out her hands to offer to you. Your eyes scan the table to see the look of shock on everyone’s faces, taken aback by her forwardness to a mere peasant, “It is my honour to meet you, Y/N,” her face exudes a kindness you see similarly in Jaeyun.

It breaks your heart.

They are clearly well suited, their characters and status mould together in ways you and Jaeyun could never.

“Y/N, you will serve as Princess Mia’s lady-in-waiting during her stay in Glengyre,” the Queen's announcement leaves you speechless, a wave of disbelief washing over you.

Typically, when Royals of other kingdoms venture to another, it is customary that they bring their own staff, particularly their maid of honour.

Princess Mia's unexpected warmth catches you off guard as she expresses her hope for a harmonious relationship, “Pince Jaeyun spoke highly of you, Y/N. I look forward to our time together," she says, grasping your hands with genuine affection.

Confusion and resentment swirl within you. Was this Jaeyun's way of taunting you? To rub it in that you are no longer his?

Despite your inner thoughta, you maintain your composure and offer a gracious smile in return. "Thank you, Princess Mia. I am at your service," you respond, masking your apprehension with a polite demeanour.

As you glance around the room, you catch Jaeyun's eye for a brief moment, his expression one of mischief, “Thank you, Y/N. You know all the ins and outs of this castle,” he smirks, eluding to your secret nightly meetings in whatever nook and cranny you could find to be with him.

With a mixture of confusion and trepidation, you acknowledge his words with a subtle nod, unsure of what his intentions are at this moment. Despite the lingering doubts and uncertainties, you steel yourself to fulfil your duties to the best of your abilities.

“I appreciate the opportunity, Your Highness,” you say to Jaeyun, hoping he can read your confused features. Luckily after months of only being able to communicate through your expressions, he shakes his head, understanding your worries but dismissing them.

He just wants to keep you close, and if serving his future wife is the only way to do that, then so be it.

_____

The following morning marks the beginning of your role as a lady-in-waiting, a position typically earned after years of loyal service—a fact not lost on the resentful gazes of your fellow servants at the dining table. Even your chamber companions shun you, refusing to share the bunk, a clear display of their disdain. Although Princess Mia kindly offers you a separate bed closer to her quarters, accepting would only stoke the flames of their animosity.

As you walk the hallways adorned in your new uniform, a sense of pride swells within you. The sea blue cotton dress may lack the opulence of the Chamberlain's or any other higher ranking servant’s attire, but its significance is not lost on you. It represents a step up from your previous maid garments, a symbol of newfound status and responsibility.

The guards at the door inspect you and your new look, both smiling widely before stepping out of the way to give you a pathway to the Princess’ door.

Tipping your head courteously, you knock on the grand oak doors, awaiting approval to enter. However, when it does not come, you open them slightly, examining the room to find your lady. A lump is formed under the covers of the bed, meaning she could only be in one place.

You gently shut the double doors behind you before carefully gliding over to the window to open the curtains.

Back home, your brothers had a tendency to do as the Princess is doing just now - hiding to avoid going about their duties. You expect it from teenage boys, not from the Princess of an entire kingdom.

“Princess Mia, you have an appointment this morning,” you say firmly, hoping she will wake up.

A muffled groan escapes beneath the layers of quilts covering her head, "Please, Y/N, I have a dreadful allergy to the sun," she jokes.

With a gentle tug, you draw back the final curtain, "My apologies, Your Highness, but I am under strict orders from the King to ensure you join them for breakfast," you explain with a warm smile.

She shifts beneath the covers before casting them aside, revealing her upper half with a resigned sigh, "I understand, Y/N. It is not your doing," she concedes, stretching as if aiming for the heavens, "But you should know, I harbour a great distaste for mornings. If I seem irritable, it’s hardly your fault."

You can't help but admire her even in her morning disarray, her features possessing an otherworldly allure. Though the kingdom boasts many beauties, encountering someone of her stature feels like a rare privilege.

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she finally meets your gaze with a warm smile, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Shall we, Y/N?" she says, gracefully swinging her legs off the bed and rising to her feet with a fluid motion that speaks of innate poise.

“Would you like me to assist you with your bath or would you prefer some privacy?” you query, making her bed as she glances out the window.

Princess Mia is like any one of your friends back home, an ease of friendliness passes between you the more you speak. There's a pang of wishful thinking, a part of you hoped she'd embody the snobbishness rumoured about her, offering an easy target for animosity towards her relationship with your former love. But she is far removed from her rumours.

“Neither,” she begins to pull you away from your task of making the bed and pushes you towards the bathroom, “Perhaps I could use the company more than anything.”

Turning the taps to fill her bath, you steal another glance at her as she strips off her nightgown, marvelling at her delicate features: the velvety smoothness of her skin, the graceful curves that seem sculpted by an artist's hand, and the perkiness of her ass, reminiscent of a ripe peach.

In contrast, your own reflection reveals a different story - dry skin marked by scars from old scabies, a dullness that overshadows any hint of radiance, and a figure that pales in comparison, lacking the perfection of hers.

You would be foolish to think for a second you could compete with her for Jaeyun’s love.

As she steps into the running bath, you prepare the soap, handing it to her which she accepts with a smile.

“How long have you worked for the Glengyre royal family?” she asks, lathering up the soap and washing it over her body.

"Just under a year, Your Highness," you respond, realising in this moment that you have been here for much longer than desired. Being away from your brothers for this long was never part of the plan, and the ache to see them again gnaws at your heart, the letters exchanged barely enough to quell your longing.

Princess Mia lounges in the bath, leaning her chin on the edge as she speaks with you, “Tell me honestly, from a peasant perspective, are they good people?”

The question is a hefty one, one that you are not prepared for. It is no secret that you have a distaste for the King and Queen, however, your judgement upon them can only lead to your travesty, so you ponder how to navigate the question while still maintaining some honesty.

“Well, the King and Queen try their best,” you begin, eyes pointed downward, “And the Prince…”

How would one describe Prince Jaeyun? Loyal, honest, kindhearted, fearless, a true King. But how do you say it while hiding your feelings for him? Your brain wants to tell the Princess how Jaeyun kisses with such desire and passion, and his whispers of affection and adoration serve you to believe he is straight from one of Shakespeare's sonnets. He was much more than a noble Crown Prince, he was the love of your life, and you wanted to scream it from the rooftops.

She pokes you gently with a finger, drawing you back from your reverie, "Y/N?"

"Oh, my apologies," you offer a strained smile, hoping she didn’t catch on to your longing gaze, "Prince Jaeyun is undoubtedly a man of great virtue and integrity, worthy to ascend the throne and lead his people," you reply, striving for a diplomatic tone that hides the depth of your affection for him.

"And how will he be as a husband?"

You fluster, your brain now inappropriately recalling his touches and lingering lips while his bride-to-be is a mere foot away, “I couldn’t possibly comment on that, Your Highness,” you deflect, inwardly cursing your traitorous thoughts.

“But from your perception, someone of your lower class has no reason to lie to me regarding your Prince, I would value your honesty,” she insists, playing with the water that envelopes her.

Sighing, you yield, “He will make a fantastic husband. His loyalty to those he loves knows no bounds,” you concede, swallowing the bitter pill of truth as you reluctantly paint a portrait of Jaeyun as a desirable suitor, knowing it may only serve to bring them closer together.

The Princess slips lower into the bathtub, leaving just her head above the water, "He does not love me, though," she acknowledges, her voice heavy with sorrow as if she were voicing the truth for the first time, "He made it clear that his heart belongs elsewhere, that he could never give it to me."

You feel a surge of tension at her words, a glimmer of hope blossoming in your heart at Jaeyun's implied feelings. It's a bittersweet realisation, knowing that he still holds love for you as deeply as you do for him, yet, not one of you can do anything about it.

Standing from the stool beside the bathtub, you pick up a towel and hold it out for the Princess to take, but she does not move, instead, she continues her questioning, “Who does he love, Y/N?”

The sickness that sits in your stomach bubbles to your throat, word vomit willing you on to scream at her that it is you he belongs to, that his heart is yours and yours is his. But you dare not utter such a confession.

“He loves his people, Your Highness, they are who have his heart,” you stand strong, pushing the towel further in her face, using it as a barricade so she cannot witness your wet eyes.

Princess Mia removes herself from the tub, idly lost in her thoughts, “We have that in common,” her tone airy as she remembers her people back home.

She is a good person, her thoughtfulness and kindness showcase this, and you know she will make a fantastic addition to Jaeyun’s faction. With her as his wife, they will do great things for Glengyre.

_____

As the first rays of dawn break through the stained glass windows of the castle, you find yourself standing alongside Princess Mia at the grand breakfast table, the delicate clinking of silverware and murmured conversations filling the air. Your gaze couldn't help but flicker nervously toward the entrance, anticipation mounting with each passing moment as you awaited Jaeyun's arrival.

It is hard to be so close yet so out of reach to someone you used to be tangled with.

Prince Jaeyun and his trusted valet, Heeseung, make their grand entrance into the opulent dining hall, instantly commanding the attention of all present. His piercing gaze sweeps across the room, briefly meeting Princess Mia's eyes before seeking out your own.

You have lined yourself up with the other maids, a habit from your past role. Heeseung approaches you with a warm smile, his voice carrying a hint of understanding as he addresses you, "Miss Y/N, valets typically stand to the left," he gently reminds you, gesturing for you to join him. Grateful for Heeseung's kindness and guidance, you offer him a respectful bow before obediently following his lead.

As you traverse the room, keeping your head low in deference, you feel a soft touch against your hand, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was, the touch sending sparks to your heart.

Jaeyun is playing with fire, he knows it’s risky to even gaze upon you too long, yet his heart yearns for you and your touch, causing him to act irrationally. Your heart is a magnet and it is drawing him in the closer you are to him.

In a brief moment of recklessness, Jaeyun slips a folded piece of paper into your palm before releasing his grip, the covert exchange going unnoticed by everyone save the two of you. Quickly you tuck the piece of paper up your sleeve and stand in your designated space.

As the Royals take their seats, anticipation pervades the air, with the tantalising smells of the lavish meal enticing even the most controlled appetites.

“How fares the Princess this morning?” Heeseung inquires softly, a faint smile gracing his lips as he casts his gaze ahead.

“Quite well. And what of the Prince?” you respond, hoping for a glimpse into your former lover’s wellbeing.

Heeseung's sigh is filled with gravity, his words hint at a heavy burden borne by the Prince, "Disheartened, I'm afraid," he says quietly.

The confession elicits a sharp intake of breath from you, brows knit together in confusion as you silently implore Heeseung to elaborate. "I believe it's due to the wedding being expedited to this Friday," he declares, his words sinking in with unexpected weight.

“What?!” your exclamation escapes your lips before you can temper it, a mix of shock and disbelief colouring your tone, reverberating through the room with an unintended volume.

Jaeyun, catching wind of your distressed reaction, turns his gaze towards you, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. Sensing his eyes upon you, you quickly avert your gaze, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

You know you cannot be with him but you presumed you had more time to become accustomed to Princess Mia around the castle and before you lose him forever, “Isn’t the Princess required to occupy Glengyre for at least 3 months? Isn’t it customary for her to know our land and the people before she takes such a vow?” you question.

“Apparently, she does not need 3 months. The arrangement has altered slightly,” he looks down at you.

“How can that be?” You don’t mean to bombard the valet with your senseless questioning, but nothing makes sense to you, “How will she know what is best for this kingdom if she does not actively know it? How will she best know how to take the role of Princess of Glengyre?”

Heeseung breathes out, “She won’t be, Prince Jaeyun is to be crowned King Consort of Lethamhill once they marry and fulfil his duties there,” his tone is filled with sorrow.

You're taken aback by Heeseung's revelation, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place, "But if Jaeyun becomes the King Consort of Lethamhill, what about Glengyre?" you inquire, your voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to speak the words aloud, “Who will take the place of the King once he passes?”

“It is blasphemy to speak about the King’s death so frivolously!” Heeseung exclaims in a hushed tone, his jaw clenched. Heeseung was a royal guard before he was Jaeyun’s man-in-waiting, the blood of the royal navy still runs rampant through his veins, his honour to the king noble even if slightly blinded.

You offer an apology, bowing your head and feigning shame, “Sorry, I shall never utter the words so haphazardly again.”

He nods, stature returning to his elegant stance, "It's a complicated matter," Heeseung replies, his tone laced with sympathy, "The merger between the kingdoms is more than it seems. Lethamhill is in dire need of assistance after the turmoil caused by the war. The arrangement serves to benefit both kingdoms but it is Glengyre who is set to prosper.”

You are not understanding Heeseung’s words, which only causes hindrance in this conversation, “Excuse my ignorance, but I do not understand.”

“Lethamhill is on the brink of destruction, the King believes if Prince Jaeyun were to be crowned King Consort, he would be able to fully take Lethamhill for himself. King James and Queen Elizabeth will resign their titles for their daughter as part of the deal, leaving our Crown Prince in charge with only the need of convincing Princess Mia to follow his plans.”

You whip your head to face Heeseung, “So Lethamhill is to be no more? What of its people?” your heart races at the thought of thousands of innocent lives tangled in this game of political power.

“They are not the King and Prince’s concern, they serve Glengyre and Glegyre alone,” he says quietly.

There is a weight in your chest akin to an anchor, bringing your remaining hope and happiness for this merger down into the pits of your stomach. The merger is a visage, a guise for your King to be completely in control.

This was never about peace, this was always going to be about power.

“And does Prince Jaeyun know about this?” you ask astonished. Surely, if Jaeyun knew of the inner workings of his father, he would put a stop to it all. Although Jaeyun lives to serve his people, he would never sacrifice others to replenish Glengyre, it’s the reason he has always voted against war.

Heeseung's gaze remains firm, "Of course he does," he replies sternly, "You think the Prince would be kept in the dark about something like this?"

As Heeseung's words sink in, a wave of realisation washes over you, accompanied by a sense of betrayal. You can only hope Jaeyun has a bigger plan, one that can save both kingdoms from perishing.

______

As night descends upon the castle, you navigate the dimly lit corridors with determined steps, your mind swirling with conflicting emotions. Jaeyun's cryptic note had beckoned you to the Council c

Chambers under the cover of darkness, although, you were conflicted with the idea knowing his plans now to infiltrate Lethamhill from within.

However, this served as your chance to speak directly to Jaeyun and figure out what his true intentions are. Every atom of your being is saying he cannot be so foolish as to destroy a country just in the hopes of building up his own, but you still approach the meeting with a wary heart.

With a heavy push, you open the door and the memories of your final night together flood your mind. But you refuse to be swayed by the urge within your body and heart; you must find out what is truly going on.

The room is cloaked in shadows, save for the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the windows. As you step inside, the air seems charged with tension, every creak of the floorboards echoing in the silence.

Jaeyun is leaning against the very desk he made love to you on countless times, the very desk you promised your undying love to him. His head whips up as he hears you enter the Council Chamber, his body lit by the moon and nothing more, yet, you can see the twinkle in his eyes as if it is a bright summer’s morning.

He stands as you edge closer to him, "It's been too long since I was graced with such beauty in my lone presence," he remarks, his voice soft and warm. His hand moves instinctively to find your hips, but you step back, the tension in the air palpable.

"Tell me it isn’t true," you implore, your heart pounding in your chest as you search his eyes for reassurance, desperate for him to dispel the troubling rumours that have plagued your thoughts.

Jaeyun's brow furrows in confusion, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity, "Tell me what isn't, my love?" he responds, his voice laced with genuine confusion.

"Don't call me that. You have no right anymore," you respond sharply, your voice tinged with bitterness. The pain of betrayal simmers just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over at any moment.

"You'll always be my love, Y/N," Jaeyun insists, his tone pleading as he reaches out to you, but you hold yourself stiffly, refusing to be swayed by his familiar touch.

"But you're not mine, not if what I heard is true," you retort, your voice trembling with a mixture of hurt and anger.

Jaeyun's expression softens, "What did you hear?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid of the answer.

In Jaeyun’s eyes, he has done nothing wrong. He has kept Princess Mia at a respectable length at all times, never shared the same bed, and made it abundantly clear that this marriage will harbour no love as he already gave his heart to someone else - to you.

Which could only mean you know one thing.

You feel a surge of frustration welling up inside you, threatening to implode as you confront Jaeyun with the truth.

"That you are to marry Princess Mia for the sole purpose of becoming king and take complete control of Lethamhill," you reveal, your voice trembling as you lay bare the painful reality of the situation, “Please, Jaeyun, tell me this isn’t true. Tell me otherwise.”

You feel the weight of each word as it leaves your lips. The dim light from the moon casts long shadows across the room, adding to the solemn atmosphere as you confront Jaeyun, the man you once thought you knew so well.

You are begging him to prove your mind wrong, to let you in on a lavish plan that bonds the countries together by outwitting his father.

Yet he offers nothing.

For a moment, there is silence between you, broken only by the soft sound of your breathing. Your figure tightens as any hope you had for him, for this to be a lie, slowly dwindles away.

Finally, Jaeyun speaks, his voice barely above a whisper, "Y/N, please understand," he begins, his tone pleading as he searches for the right words to convey his thoughts, “It is not by choice.”

“There is always a choice, Jaeyun,” you spit back at him, head thumping with the realisation that Jaeyun does not have an ulterior motive, he is going along with the plan to destroy Lethamhill, “What was the point of agreeing to marry Princess Mia and avoiding war when you are only going to cause one anyway?”

Jaeyun's shoulders sag under the weight of your accusation, his gaze dropping to the floor as he wrestles with his conscience, "It isn't like that," he protests weakly, his voice tinged with sorrow, "There will be no war."

“But people will be hurt and in consequence, they will die. That to me is no better than war,” you counter, your voice laced with agitation.

“Some may die but our people will be safe,” he insists, his words ringing around the room.

You seethe as he shows no willingness to relent; you sacrificed true love, your happiness, all for the better of the kingdom you call home, and yet Jaeyun sets make a fool of it. Your kingdom may flourish, but it will be covered in a sea of blood and power. Glengyre will no longer be a place you can call home if this were to be the case.

“But what of Princess Mia’s people? They will surely perish,” you argue, your heart breaking at the thought of innocent lives that will be lost in the name of power and control.

Jaeyun sighs, his expression haunted as he grapples with the weight of his decisions, "I took an oath to protect my kingdom," he murmurs, his voice barely audible above the din of your thoughts.

You step forward, jaw tightening and fists clenched, “And you will take an oath on Friday,” you remind him, your voice thick with disappointment, “To their kingdom, to be their leader and save them from their current state.”

“The King-”

“Enough! No excuses. The king does not have a final say once you are to be wed. You will be crowned King Consort of Lethamhill, you get to have the final decision as to what to do, what is best.”

Jaeyun's hand hesitates midair, trembling as if caught in a tempest of conflict. Your impassioned words strike at the very core of his being, awakening a sense of clarity amidst the fog. For the first time, he begins to see the shadow that his father's influence has cast over him, distorting his once unyielding sense of honour and integrity.

In your unwavering presence, he discovers a beacon, guiding him back to the principles he formerly valued.

“My love-” he starts, but you interject once again.

“No. Until you return the Jaeyun I once knew, the man that I love, I am not yours,” you back away slowly, voice trembling as tears prick your eyes, “I belong to him, to my Jaeyun, not you.”

_____

Two days later, you stand outside Miss Son's office, the oak door imposing yet familiar. The flickering torches cast dancing shadows across the corridor, adding an eerie ambience to the castle's interior. Your heart pounds in your chest as you raise your hand to knock, the weight of your decision heavy on your shoulders.

With the wedding tomorrow, you do not know how she will react to your request.

The door creaks open, revealing the warm glow of Miss Son's office. Stepping inside, you're enveloped by the scent of parchment and ink, a comforting aroma that reminds you of countless meetings and tasks undertaken within these walls.

"Come in," Miss Son's voice breaks through your reverie, and you enter, feeling a mixture of nerves and determination.

"Miss Son, I'm afraid I must pardon myself from my role," you state, the words coming out in a rush.

Miss Son's expression softens with concern as she listens to your explanation, “Why so suddenly? Is Princess Mia giving you a hard time?” She leans forward, her gaze unwavering as she waits for you to continue.

"No, no, she is quite lovely...I fear I haven't seen my brothers in a long time. I think it is time for me to go back and care for them," you explain, your voice faltering slightly as you try to mask the true reason behind your decision.

Miss Son's eyes narrow, a knowing glint in her gaze, "Are you sure this has nothing to do with the Crown Prince marrying the Princess?" she asks gently, her tone filled with understanding.

You swallow hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. The truth hangs heavy in the air, begging to be acknowledged.

"Whatever do you mean?" you reply, though you know she sees right through your facade.

“I mean, I am head of over one hundred servants, I know everything that happens within these castle walls,” she gestures around the room with her finger, eyebrows raised expectantly, “You and Prince Jaeyun lack discretion. Sneaking around, leaving traces of yourself which I have had to clean up, you are both useless at this secret love affair.”

Of course, she knew everything. You and Jaeyun were not exactly quiet in your passionate encounters and pieces of your uniform lay in different areas of the castle; you just thought you were both extremely lucky, but it happens that your luck is named Miss Son.

“I understand why you must leave but it will be a great shame to lose you, Miss Y/N,” she offers a smile of sympathy before gesturing you away quickly, “Now go get some rest and leave tomorrow morning. With the commotion of the wedding, you should be able to sneak out with ease.”

You bow appreciatively to her, muttering an almost silent thank you as you retreat to your bed chambers, your bones heavy with sorrow.

_____

The tranquillity of the maid's chambers envelops you as you nestle beneath your threadbare quilt, its thin fabric offering little comfort against the weight of your thoughts. With the royal wedding looming just 17 hours away, sleep eludes you as you mentally chart your journey back home.

The prospect of reuniting with your brothers brings a bittersweet relief, a respite from the tumult that swirls within the castle walls. However, when you think about your impending departure, you can't shake the lingering anguish that pulls at your heartstrings, tying you to this location despite your desire to move on.

Jaeyun.

As you ponder the situation laid before you, you wonder whether Jaeyun fully comprehends the ramifications of his decisions. Half of your heart longs to remain by his side, hoping to guide him away from the path of destruction. But you cannot be by his side, not after tomorrow.

The door to your room creaks open, the sound echoing softly in the dimly lit quarters. You lay still, pretending to be asleep, though your senses are alert to every sound and movement around you. You suspect it's one of the other maids, returning to collect some forgotten item before retiring for the night.

Miss Son has led the others to the tavern for a ‘light’ celebration ahead of the royal wedding. While it was meant to be a joyous occasion, the event only serves to heighten your anxiety. You would find little joy in the festivities, preferring the quiet solitude of your room.

As the footsteps draw closer to your bed, your pulse quickens, and you hold your breath, hoping to discourage any interaction. However, when you feel the mattress dip slightly and warm arms encircle your waist, your tension begins to ebb away.

The touch is unmistakably Jaeyun's, sending a jolt of both comfort and turmoil through your body. Despite your conflicting feelings, you find yourself relaxing into his embrace, seeking refuge in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“My love, I am sorry,” he says quietly, his lips peppering kisses to your shoulder blade, each kiss lingering longer than the last. His hands trace the outline of your figure as they etch along your waist and sides.

Jaeyun has never laid with you like this, the opportunities scarce in the secrets of the night, this moment only makes you wish you had taken more chances to hold one another close.

“Jaeyun, you cannot be here,” you state, trying to swallow your love and sorrow, but they’re far too big to choke down.

“Face me, Y/N,” he commands, his tone is not forceful but pleading. He needs you to look at him to fully see his emotions. As of right now, you think of him as a deceitful Prince, set to ruin innocent lives, and he will not stand for it, “Please.”

It is hard to face a man you love who seems to mirror only a shell of himself, yet, you turn around per his request. Perhaps it was the hierarchy that lay between you, or maybe it is just your love for him that outweighs any apprehension you have of him.

Your eyes meet and his heart stops, the tears in your eyes only exhibit how this is affecting you, “I cannot stand you being mad at me,” his lips pout as he speaks and you wish to kiss him like never before.

In your mind, if you kiss him right now it may cause a chain reaction in which he changes his mind on the matters of Lethamhill, but that is foolish thinking.

"Jaeyun, you know I cannot condone what you're doing," you reply softly, your voice laced with sadness, "This marriage, this plan - it is wrong. It goes against everything I thought you stood for."

He reaches out to gently brush a stray tear from your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine, "I know, Y/N. Believe me, I never wanted any of this," he confesses, his voice laced with regret.

You search his eyes, grappling with conflicting emotions of love, anger, and betrayal. Regardless of the hurt, you can't help but feel a flicker of hope at his words. Maybe there's still a chance to sway him, to remind him of the man you once knew - the man who would never sacrifice his principles for power.

“My Jaeyun is in there somewhere, I know he is. Why can’t he be the one to rule as King Consort and make this right?” you beg, your hands playing with the tassels of his white nightshirt.

Jaeyun’s expression is unwavering with regret and pain, “He will be, I will make sure of it.”

“But how? I cannot see him when I look at you,” you retort, lip quivering at the prospect of losing him both figuratively and physically.

“He needs you to guide him, I need you to guide me, that much was clear today,” he begins, his lips find your shoulder once again, his teeth laying claim to you. All the marks from your previous encounters have begun to fade, leaving you bare for someone else to take hold, and he refuses to let that happen.

He must fix this.

Sucking on the base of your neck, his hands grip the back of your thighs, pulling you further into his body, your legs now sandwiched between his, “Today, you made me see my ways, how it was wrong of me to honour a vow to one kingdom and not another. I need you by my side.”

Being surrounded by his father and his men, their constant words or assurance that this is the right thing to do for Glengyre swayed him to believe it too. Then you put him in his place, allowing him to see how preposterous the plan was.

He needs you.

Jaeyun kisses up to the side of your mouth, his eyes now looking desperately into yours, “Please do not go tomorrow.”

“How did you know?”

“Miss Son, she told me,” he confesses.

Your hands lay splayed on his chest as you contemplate whether to bring him closer, or push him away, “How am I meant to stand by idly while I lose you and know of your plans?” you query.

It is selfish of him to ask such a request, he knows this, but he will not lose hope on you so easily, “Trust me, please, just trust me. If not as Prince Jaeyun, as your Jaeyun.”

His words echo in your mind, battling internally whether to fully put your faith in a man who not a few days ago swore destruction to people like yourself.

The room feels suffocatingly small as you grapple with your thoughts, his touch igniting a storm of conflicting feelings within you. His lips trailing along your skin, leaving a trail of warmth and desire in their wake, only serve to cloud your thoughts further.

But amidst the haze of uncertainty, there's a glimmer of hope - a flicker of the man you once knew, buried beneath layers of duty and obligation. You can't help but cling to that hope, to the belief that somewhere within him, the true Jaeyun still exists.

His lips softly press themselves against yours, the feeling causing stray tears to slip from your eyes. You missed him and his kiss only served as evidence of his equal longing for you.

You grip onto his nightshirt and pull him to lay on top of you, the feeling of your lover in your arms is suddenly the only thing occupying your mind. All your worries and woes are now gone, washed away from your brain as his tongue slips into your mouth and his body is pressed heavily against you.

"I missed you terribly, my love," he murmurs against your lips, his words tinged with longing, "Tell me you thought of me?"

His yearning infuses his words, coaxing the last remnants of tears to escape your eyes, "Every waking moment was filled with thoughts of you," you confess, holding him tighter, seeking solace in his embrace.

Your admission blankets him with comfort, reassured by the enduring strength of your love. Initially, when you urged him to marry Princess Mia, part of him foolishly believed it was to liberate yourselves from secrecy and not just for the good of the people, that you grew tired of sneaking around the cold castle with him. Now, as he holds you close once more, your kisses igniting need, he realises the folly of that assumption.

With his right hand, he brushes aside the strap of your nightie, allowing your tit to spill slightly from its confines. The sight of your ample flesh awakens a hunger within Jaeyun, prompting him to lean in, his teeth gently grazing the curve of your breast.

His mouth leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses as he descends toward your nipple, delicately taking it into his mouth. With a mixture of tenderness and fervent desire, he nibbles and flicks the nub, his tongue swirling eagerly around it. His hands firmly grip your waist, anchoring your writhing body in place.

You're consumed by a desperate longing for him, craving his love once more, unable to wait as he teases your body.

Jaeyun knows that you both usually do not have time, opting for a quick session of raw passion before retreating to your chambers. But tonight is different. Tonight, there are no constraints, no fear of interruption or pressing obligations. Tonight, he is entirely yours, dedicated to fulfilling every desire and whim that you may have. Jaeyun had made sure every servant was out of the quarters till at least dawn.

What you thought was Miss Son’s idea was founded behind Jaeyun’s generosity.

As Jaeyun continues to lavish attention on your breast, his ministries grow more fervent, driven by the desire to reconnect with you. His lips and tongue work in tandem, igniting sparks of pleasure that course through your body like wildfire.

"Jaeyun," you moan, the sound escaping your lips in a breathless plea as his hand slips beneath your nightgown and into your panties, "I need you," you confess, your fingers tracing urgent paths up and down his back as you attempt to remove his shirt, eager to feel the warmth of his skin against yours.

"I know, darling, I know," he murmurs, his words intermingled with kisses that caress the sensitive flesh of your erect nipple, "But tonight, I want to savour every moment with you, to show you just how much you mean to me."

His touch ignites a fire within you as two of his fingers glide along the slick surface of your arousal, drawing forth a soft purr of satisfaction from your lips. Your body hums with anticipation, aching for his touch as he guides his digits to your entrance, the sensation of them slipping inside you with effortless ease sending waves of pleasure crashing over you.

As Jaeyun's fingers delve deeper into your slick warmth, a gasp escapes your lips, your body instinctively arching into his touch. Each stroke of your walls sends ripples of pleasure coursing through you, heightening the intensity of the moment.

His lips are back on yours as he thrusts his fingers in at a fast pace, his thumb now finding your clit as he rapidly flicks it back and forth. The motion causes you to breathe into his mouth, your lover feeling as though you are injecting him with newfound life. He knew he had missed you but having you like this, surrendering to his touch only made it much more evident in his heart.

“You are so beautiful, Y/N. You are utterly captivating, a masterpiece brought to life," he whispers, his voice filled with awe.

Despite your comparisons of yourself to Princess Mia that you made earlier, you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world with his words. And to him, you are. You will always be the most breathtaking girl he will ever see; not even Aphrodite holds a candle to you, especially not as your face contorts in pleasure.

Each curl and stretch of his fingers scissors you open, making you whine in his ear as you beg him to go faster, which he obliges, his forearm veins protruding as he tenses, putting all his might into pleasuring you.

His unrelenting tempo, along with the tantalising exploration of his tongue, drives you to the edge of bliss, preparing you for the impending release that pulses inside you like a building storm. "Jaeyun, I'm cumming," you manage to exclaim, your words muffled against his lips as you exchange air and need.

"Cum, my love. Let go for me," he pleads, his voice gruff as he grinds his hardness against the fragile flesh of your thigh, looking for some type of release. Trapped in his night bottoms, the throbbing in his loins worsens with each passing second.

With a rough curl of his fingers, you surrender to the torrent of sensation that crashes over you, crying out his name as pleasure consumes you whole. Your body convulses in the throes of orgasm, your essence spilling over his hand. You only wish it was his cock.

Luckily for you, he also dreams of being inside you, the friction on his dick unbearable as he watches you heave out short breaths as your body tries to regulate itself.

Jaeyun removes his hand from your swollen cunt, kneeling between your legs as he takes in your already spent body. But he isn’t finished with you.

Swiftly, Jaeyun sheds his clothing, the fabric falling to the floor in a whisper of motion before crawling back on top of you. He reaches for your nightgown's hem, sliding his fingertips over the shabby fabric as he tugs it up and over your head. In the dark light, your nude body is bathed in a delicate glow, a picture of ethereal beauty that makes him gasp with need.

As your bodies meld together, skin to skin, the electric current of desire arcs between you. His lips capture yours once again in a searing kiss, hands roaming over your body as he longs to feel every inch of you.

You can’t help but wonder if this will be the last time you have Jaeyun in your arms like this, so you have to make it count.

Sitting up, you feel a burst of confidence rush through you as you push him onto his back, your hands firmly grabbing his shoulders to keep him in place. The horror on his face only strengthens your urge to straddle him, a natural need propelling you forward.

His eyes widen in surprise at your sudden assertiveness, unaccustomed to you taking the lead in your lovemaking. But there's a spark of excitement in his eyes, an eagerness to yield to your touch and let you have your way with him.

Positioning yourself above him, you guide his erect cock beneath you, your core pulsating with excitement. You lower yourself onto him with tantalising slowness, the smooth heat of your sex wrapping around his length inch by inch.

As you start moving, a low sigh leaves his lips, and your hips swing back and forth, The sensation of his hardness buried deep within you sends sparks of ecstasy coursing through your veins, starting a fire that threatens to engulf you both.

Jaeyun's whimpers of bliss fill the air, his hands tightening around your hips as he tries to match your relentless pace, pushing up to meet you with frantic desperation. "God, Y/N," he exclaims, his voice thick with need, "You feel incredible wrapped around me like this."

Your claws sink into his chest as you bounce with renewed zest, taking complete control. Your motions are quick and commanding, leaving him with no choice but to give in to the intense feelings racing through his body, "I've missed this," you admit, your voice heavy with desire, "missed the way you fill me up."

“You have?” he opens his eyes to see your tits bouncing up and down your chest, a sight he thought about most as he stroked his member in the shower while you were out of reach, “Do you want me to fill you up properly?” he asks in a mischievous tone, his hand pulling your head to meet his, cloaking your lips with his own.

Nodding, you mewl into his mouth as both of you groan simultaneously, the sound of skin slapping and your vocalised pleasure bouncing along the walls. It’s raw and passionate, it’s unlike any other time Jaeyun has fucked into you. It’s a memory you’ll cherish forever, especially if this was to be the last time.

“Y/N, my love, I can’t hold out much longer,” he confesses as his eyebrows scrunch together, trying to hold himself back from releasing into you until he knows you’re going to cum again.

Heeding your request, he grips your waist tight, halting your movements as he pistons into you, using all his might to bring you both to the peak. With 3 forceful thrusts, his hips stutter and legs tense as he shoots his seed into you, endless hot spurts painting your walls.

“Please cum inside me, let me feel it,” you beg between kisses, riding him so hard that your thin bed frame is on the verge of collapsing beneath you.

It feels like a dream to have his cum stuffed inside of you again, causing you to follow suit, cumming over his cock with a scream of his name, one that could surely be heard all the way to Lethamhill.

Jaeyun proceeds to buck his hips up into you, riding out your orgasms together as you collapse on top of him. The inside of your thighs tremble from your combined pleasure, and the intensity of your lovemaking leaves you both breathless and exhausted.

As you come down, you find yourselves tangled together in a mess of limbs and sweat, your bodies still humming with the aftershocks of your shared passion. And as you lie there, spent and sated in each other's arms, you only feel the love between both of you radiating through your shared pants.

Looking up at him, you see his eyes glazed with satisfaction, a lazy smile plastered on the Crown Prince’s gorgeous face. He always spoke about how you were a vision, yet he is the one with a beauty so rare it’s almost impossible to understand how he is real.

But he is and he is holding you in his arms as he slips out of you, pulling your body up to rest more comfortably on himself.

Your mind now clearing up from the fog of sex allows you to go back to your conversation before this impromptu session with him.

"Can you truly change the course of this plan?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you search his eyes for any sign of reassurance.

Jaeyun's gaze meets yours, unwavering in its intensity, "I will do whatever it takes to make things right, I will find a way to reconcile my duty with my conscience."

"I want to believe you," you admit, your voice trembling with vulnerability, "But I need more than words, Jaeyun. I need to see action, to know that you're truly committed to making amends."

Jaeyun nods solemnly, understanding the weight of your request. "I will show you, Y/N. I will prove to you that I am worthy of your trust," he vows, his fingers gently tracing patterns along your skin as if to imprint his promise upon you.

“How?”

“I have a plan, but I must detail it out first before I speak it aloud. Please, just trust me.”

_____

The castle is filled with people here to watch the wedding, the wedding you have been dreading since Jaeyun left your quarters last night. He snuck out in the early hours of the morning before the rest of the staff came home. It was a bittersweet goodbye, your bodies that were tangled with one another for hours were pried apart, possibly forever.

The final kiss he placed on your lips is all you can think about as you stand obediently with the other staff, Heeseung by your side as everyone awaits Princess Mia’s arrival. The buzz around the hall is electric yet you feel like an insect, the closer you get to the nuptials, the closer you are to being zapped in the heart.

You feel uneasy as you see Jaeyun fiddle with his ring, the one he will take from his right hand and place on his bride. The more you ponder, the more you come to the realisation that maybe you should have just left, gone home with the cloak of the wedding as your opportunity to flee.

But Jaeyun asked you to trust him, that he will do the right thing for everyone. The trust you have does not cancel out your breaking heart, however.

Dressed in his princely attire, Jaeyun exudes a regal air as he stands at the altar, his uniform immaculate and his demeanour poised. Every detail of his appearance seems meticulously crafted to accentuate his undeniable beauty, from the crisp white fabric adorned with intricate gold detailing to the way his dark locks are artfully styled to frame his face.

As the royal band fills the air with music, the grandeur of the moment is punctuated by the entrance of Princess Mia, a vision of grace and elegance. Jaeyun's gaze shifts to her, momentarily captivated by her presence, and you feel a pang of sadness knowing that this is the beginning of the end for you.

This was it, you were losing him before your very eyes, but you cannot be selfish. This was the right thing to do, a sacrifice you must abide by for the kingdom you love.

Truth be told, it is easier to come to terms with marriage now that you know Jaeyun will do whatever is in his power to truly bring solace between both Glengyre and Lethamhill. Before, once Heeseung revealed the malicious plans to you, you started to wonder if giving up your love was worth it or if it was all for nothing, but now you know it will not be in vain.

Princess Mia greets Jaeyun at the alter and curtsies, her fiance mirroring her action while you swallow the lump in your throat. There is a glint in both their eyes, while you know it isn’t love, you do question it with a pierced heart. If Jaeyun were to fall in love with her, which is not implausible considering even in the short-lived time you acted as her maid-in-waiting you witnessed how humble and gracious she is, just as Jaeyun is. They match perfectly in every way.

You fight the urge to cry as the ceremony gets underway, the Bishop beginning to unify them both together.

The moment arrives when the officiant solemnly intones, "If anyone present knows of any reason why this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace." The weight of the words hangs heavy in the air, the tension palpable as the guests hold their breath.

Not a soul would be foolish enough to-

“We object.”

A choir of gasps fill the air as two harmonious voices speak their objection. Your eyes fall upon them as they smile at one another, letting go of their hands.

Prince Jaeyun and Princess Mia objected to their own wedding.

The shock reverberates through the room, eyes widen and murmurs erupt among the attendees. Not you nor Heeseung know what to do in this situation, both of you staring at Jaeyun with bewilderment, wondering what on earth he was doing.

Was this part of his grand plan?

"Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests of Glengyre and Lethamhill," he begins, his voice steady yet filled with conviction. "I stand before you today not only as your Prince but as a voice for justice and truth. For too long, a shadow of deceit has loomed over our kingdoms, orchestrated by none other than my own father, the King of Glengyre."

He pauses, allowing his words to sink in, before continuing with a sense of urgency, "It has come to my attention that he was exploiting this marriage as a means to hold Lethamhill hostage, to seize complete control and dominate its people. This nefarious plan would only bring harm and danger to both our kingdoms, jeopardizing the lives and well-being of our citizens. The exact opposite of what he has promised you all."

Beside him, Princess Mia nods in agreement, her expression mirroring his determination, "Furthermore," Jaeyun continues, "Princess Mia has brought to my attention disturbing revelations regarding her father, King James of Lethamhill. It has been made clear to us that he seeks to exploit this union to unlawfully seize land and resources from Glengyre, with the intent of displacing our people to expand his own domain."

The outrage in his voice is palpable, his eyes flashing with defiance as he declares, "Princess Mia and I stand united in our outrage and determination to put an end to these injustices. We refuse to allow our kingdoms to be pawns in the power games of corrupt rulers. It is time for us to take a stand."

Jaeyun’s eyes flicker to you as he utters his next words.

“We will not be getting married.”

Your knees buckle beneath you, a surge of relief and disbelief flooding through every fiber of your being. The love of your life, the one you were on the brink of losing forever, stands before you, his gaze locking with yours in a silent exchange of understanding. A small, reassuring smile graces his lips

Beside him, Princess Mia commands attention with unwavering confidence, her voice ringing out with authority, "They are not worthy to rule over our sacred lands," she declares, her words cutting through the tension like a sharpened blade. Her gaze pierces through the gathered officials, her unwavering resolve a stark contrast to their shock, "Their sinister schemes amount to nothing short of treason against the kingdoms they swore to protect," she continues, her tone unwavering, "We demand their immediate dethronement and call for this wedding to be transformed into a coronation for both myself and Prince Jaeyun."

The reaction from the royal box is instantaneous, a cacophony of outraged protests and indignant exclamations filling the air. The two Kings, their faces flushed with fury, rise from their seats in a display of unbridled anger, their voices drowned out by the resounding tumult.

“You cannot do this! I am the rightful King of Glengyre,” Jaeyun’s father shouts across the room.

Jaeyun smiles mockingly to his father, “You are right, we cannot do this, not without a vote from the people of our kingdoms,” he says matter of factly.

As the commotion reaches its peak, Jaeyun and Princess Mia stand firm, their resolve unshaken by the storm of dissent around them. Together, they face the fury of the royal box with unwavering determination, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of solidarity.

Despite the chaos, Jaeyun's voice rises above the din, his words infused with unwavering conviction, "We will not allow our kingdoms to be held hostage by the greed and treachery of a few individuals," he declares, his tone ringing out with authority. "It is our duty as leaders to uphold the values of justice and integrity, to safeguard the well-being of our people above all else."

Princess Mia adds her voice to his, her words echoing his sentiments with equal fervour, "We stand united against tyranny and corruption," she proclaims, her gaze sweeping over the crowd with steely resolve, "Together, we will forge a future built on trust, compassion, and unity."

Heeseung looks to you, eyes wide as if begging for answers, yet, you cannot offer him any. You knew Jaeyun had a plan but to go out on a limb like this was not what you were expecting. Shaking your head, your eyes scan the crowd to see their reaction, each face equally as shocked as they are appalled by the Kings’ true intentions with this union.

“Please stand with us. If you wish for Princess Mia and myself to be respective leaders of our kingdoms, Say I,” Jaeyun exudes confidence in his stature but you look at his hand which is fiddling with his jacket, a telltale sign that he is nervous.

Who would not be nervous? This could end in death for both Jaeyun and Princess Mia. If they do not have the people on their side, the Kings will seek to execute them, that much is a given.

The guests in the pews whisper to one another, the discussions hushed as they consider Jaeyun’s words. Your heart races as you await the collective response from the guests. Will they stand with Jaeyun and Princess Mia, or will fear and uncertainty prevail, leaving them isolated and vulnerable to the wrath of the Kings? The air is heavy with anticipation, each second stretching into an eternity as the fate of Glengyre and Lethamhill hangs in the balance.

“I,” a voice from beside you yells out, causing you to flinch. Heeseung, the once esteemed royal guard makes the first vocalisation of agreement. It shocks you considering he was always one to worship the king, “I give my faith to a new king,” he stands forward, kneeling before Jaeyun.

His actions cause a domino effect, echoes of ‘I’ and ‘Here here’ can be heard throughout the hall, each person projecting their trust in their Prince and Princess.

The prince looks at you with pleading eyes, hoping your trust can be stretched to this moment.

“I,” you say, the words are lost amongst the commotion but Jaeyun sees it, the love in your eyes, the trust in him to lead the kingdom you hold dear to your heart. Although he must get the approval of all his people, you are the one he needs it from the most. Without your support, he doesn’t feel fit enough to be King.

“Guards, please see the Kings out,” he orders before turning to face the bishop, “Would you do the honours of coronating us, your grace,” he bows, showing his respect.

“Kneel before me, Your Highness,” the Bishop speaks softly.

The hall once filled with chaos and debacle is now silent, smiles and hearts full as their honourable Crown Prince is made King of Glengyre. You have never felt pride for the royal family, but you know that will all change now.

As he is crowned, a hush falls over the hall, a reverent silence that speaks volumes of the significance of this moment. Jaeyun, now King of Glengyre, rises from his kneeling position with a newfound solemnity, his eyes shining with determination and purpose. Beside him, Princess Mia also kneels, her hand clasped firmly in his as they prepare to lead their kingdoms into a new era of prosperity and unity.

The Bishop's voice carries through the hall as he recites the ancient words of coronation, his tone reverent and ceremonial. With each word spoken, the weight of responsibility settles upon Jaeyun's shoulders, a reminder of the solemn duty he has undertaken to rule justly and with compassion.

As the final words of the coronation ritual echo through the hall, Jaeyun and Princess Mia exchange a meaningful glance, their bond strengthened by the vows they have made before their people. They will do what their fathers couldn’t.

“There is to be a party to celebrate the union tonight, the entirety of the kingdoms are invited,” King Jaeyun proclaims, beaming with pride before ushering Queen Mia out of the hall.

With the commotion of happiness and celebration, you get swept up by Heeseung, swinging you around in his arms. The feeling leaves you with a sense of purpose and gratitude to both rulers of the kingdoms. They did what most would be too scared to do, a testament to their love for their citizens.

_____

The night sky above Glengyre is ablaze with the glow of a thousand lanterns, casting a warm and inviting light over the festivities below. The sound of laughter and music fills the air, mingling with the tantalizing aroma of roasted meats and spiced wines. People from all walks of life gather in the grand courtyard of the castle, their differences set aside as they come together to celebrate the dawn of a new era. Never in your years of living did you think you would ever see such a promise for the people.

Jaeyun ordered carriages and carts to bring those on the outskirts of the kingdoms to the castle, making good on his promise. He wanted everyone to be part of this victory, especially those who had suffered at the hands of his father.

Effortlessly, Jaeyun navigates through the people, garnering respect and esteem from everyone he comes into contact with. He pauses to meet and converse with both royalty and peasants, his sincere kindness and humility converting even the most cynical minds.

Barrels of liquor and wine line the perimeter, and long tables creak beneath the weight of indulgent treats, transforming the courtyard into a true feast. Musicians play lively tunes, encouraging guests to dance and revel late into the night.

You, amidst the crowd of celebrants, are witnessing a momentous occasion. You are witnessing how a kingdom ripped apart by conflict and division can come together under a banner of growth and optimism. And you see that Glengyre's future is more promising than ever when you see the happy smiles of your fellow citizens.

“Thank you for trusting me,” Jaeyun’s low voice whispers beside you as he rests his hand on the lower part of your back. Instinctively, you go to move away, scared to be seen, but he holds you in place, hand gripped tight.

Looking into his eyes, you find yourself lost in the depths of his gaze, each flicker of light reflecting his unwavering determination. His touch sends a shiver down your spine as he gently kisses your hand, a gesture that feels both intimate and surreal.

"I trust you to be a fine king," you murmur softly, sincerity lacing every word. "It already looks good on you," you add with a playful smirk, admiring his regal presence and undeniable charisma.

Jaeyun chuckles, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes as he spins around, basking in your laughter. The joyous sound fills the air, a melody that he never tires of hearing. When he finally stands before you again, his expression grows serious, his hands still clasping yours.

"You know, being a queen would look good on you," he remarks, his tone teasing yet earnest.

You scoff incredulously, unable to fathom such a notion. "Perhaps one could dream of that in another lifetime."

"Why not this one?" Jaeyun counters, his gaze unwavering as he meets your eyes.

Confusion clouds your features as you struggle to comprehend his meaning. Before you can protest further, he continues, his words carrying a weight that leaves you breathless.

"Well, I am a king without a queen. It does look rather pathetic, doesn’t it?" he jests lightly, his smile masking the gravity of his declaration. "But with you by my side…"

The implications of his words hit you like a bolt of lightning, leaving you reeling in disbelief. "You cannot make me queen, Jaeyun," you protest weakly, your heart fluttering erratically at the mere thought.

Jaeyun's smile softens, his gaze filled with tenderness as he squeezes your hands reassuringly. "But when I marry you, you will not have a choice."

The weight of his proclamation hangs heavy in the air, each syllable sinking into your consciousness with undeniable clarity. To marry Jaeyun is a dream beyond your wildest imaginings, a fantasy that you never dared to entertain. Yet here he stands, offering you a future that you once believed to be unattainable.

"That is preposterous, Jaeyun. You can’t marry a maid," you protest, the words tumbling from your lips in a mixture of disbelief and awe.

Shrugging, he lets go of your hands, “It is not the most scandalous thing I have done this week,” he smirks, eyebrows wiggling as you both recall the events that just happened a mere few hours ago.

Taking the ring from his right pinky finger, he holds it out to you, face serious now, "Marry me," he implores, his voice filled with earnestness, "be the queen our people need. I trust no one but you to help guide me to better serve this kingdom."

Your throat tightens with emotion, tears brimming in your eyes as you gaze at the ring before you, a symbol of love and commitment. It is a moment that takes your breath away, a choice that will shape the course of your future and the destiny of your kingdom.

As you reach out to take the ring, the weight of Jaeyun's words hangs heavy in the air. Marrying him would mean stepping into a world of royalty, a world you never imagined yourself a part of. Yet, with each passing moment, the idea becomes more alluring.

But reality crashes in, reminding you of the vast chasm that separates your worlds. "Jaeyun, you know I cannot," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with both longing and resignation, "I am but a maid, not worthy of such a title."

Jaeyun's expression softens, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine, "You are worthy of so much more than you realise, Y/N," he insists, his voice gentle but unwavering, "You have already proven yourself to be a queen in every way that matters."

His words resonate within you, stirring something deep within your soul. For so long, you had resigned yourself to the confines of your station, never daring to reach for something beyond your grasp. But now, faced with the possibility of a future with Jaeyun, you find yourself daring to believe in the impossible.

Gently, he slides the ring onto your finger, and you feel a rush of warmth flood through you as if sealing a pact with destiny itself. Looking up at Jaeyun, you find yourself unable to speak, overwhelmed by the enormity of the moment.

Without a word, Jaeyun pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if to reassure you of his love and commitment. In that embrace, you feel a sense of belonging, a sense of purpose that you never thought possible.

“I love you, Y/N. I am at your mercy as your future husband and as your king.”

You smile widely, sniffling away the happiness of tears that fall from your face, “I love you, too, Jaeyun. I vow myself to you forever.”

Your husband-to-be kisses the top of your head as he pulls away, joy radiating from every atom of his being, “Let us celebrate, perhaps in the council chamber?” he teases, fingers trickling up your forearms.

With a sarcastic rolling of your eyes, you follow him. Not just for tonight, but forever.

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #jake smut #jake sim smut #aj writes #enhypen angst #enha angst

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katakaluptastrophy · 3 months

Text

Continuing to think about the horror of what happens to John, and the horrors of love...

When Alecto has first been created, she says to him "I picked you to change, and this is how you repay me?" and "What have you done to me?"

They're heartbreaking questions she has every right to ask, but there's something awful and ironic about them too. Because John also might have asked "what have you done to me?"

It's easy to get distracted by the cartoonish awfulness of John's own narration: "talk about police abuse", "come on, love. Guys as careful as me don't have accidents," "love a working tram system." But all of these comments come after moments where John has unwittingly come into proximity with violent death, an experience he repeatedly likens to having drugs forcibly injected into him; an omniscient, dream-like, out of body experience that seems to propel him forward through his basest impulses. The first time this happens, he's brought back from "the verge of something insane" by being shaken violently by P-. Lines like these aren't revealing John's diabolical plotting. They're a man who would rather own atrocities as premeditated than admit that he was losing his grip.

The second is when he encounters the soul of the earth. His human mind makes contact with the incoherent, furious soul of a planet. In any other context, this would be straightforwardly Lovecraftian. And everything he describes after that is full of elipses, jumbled, and detached. His friends are shot by gun-toting cultists and he says it was like a dream.

Hearing the earth screaming, feeling his friends' deaths under his skin like a drug, he might well have asked "what have you done to me?"

Alecto said to him, "I picked you to change, and this is how you repay me?" But as everything collapses, John says:

"I thought you were going to take me, somehow. Purge me. Use me as an instrument. But you didn't say anything...I was babbling, Show me. Come on. I'm ready. You kept screaming and screaming..."

John has spent months becoming something terrifying, an entity with yellow eyes and uncanny powers. He's discovered that death has an overwhelming impact on him that he cannot fully control. Everyone was relying on him to do something. And he did so many things: well-meaning things and stupid things and things that were lashing out in rage and frustration. Hundreds of people have died because of him. His friends have died because of him. Surely, surely there was a point to this. Surely there was meaning. Surely whatever did this to him, made him into this, had a greater plan.

But there is no plan. There is no great revelation. He tries to hurt the earth, to provoke some kind of answer, but the screaming continues. And when P dies, the person who snapped him out of it the last time, John lets go and the whole world dies.

John is kneeling on the grass vomiting up dirt and tearing out his own ribs, saying "there was still too much of me that was just a human being...", trying to swallow the soul of the earth. And by the end, the one shred he has to hold onto is a memory of playing with a doll as a child. That, and his anger...

The earth tried to reach out in the only way it could, amidst its incoherent suffering. And John tried to use the abilities it gave him, but he was only human. Fallible and proud and angry.

She said, "I still love you." And the horror; the horror of love, the horror of this story, is that to begin with they did this to each other.

To be clear: I don't mean to diminish the awfulness or the very specific forms that John's violence against Alecto takes, and continues to take across the story. I don't mean to excuse his own self-mythologisation. I certainly don't think he's blameless for the decisions he made and the agenda he pursued. But if there's one thing that happens over and over again in TLT, it's that the horror of love is not a one-way street.

And I wonder, in light of what we now know about the permeability of the soul, quite where John ends and Alecto begins. And when that blurring began...

#the locked tomb #tlt meta #john gaius #alecto the first #Can't wait to see what the Eldritch Alpha Couple get up to in ATN

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obesify-yourself · 22 days

Text

feedees: a manifatso

i know you're out there.

you're like me: you think anything worth doing is worth overdoing. you think a body, either yours or a consenting partner, is a beautiful soft thing worth spoiling. worth indulgence. worth worship.

and you're full of nervous, feverish curiosity: this body could be softer, couldn't it? shouldn't it? wider hips? rounder belly? where would the stretch marks appear? how quickly will this body outgrow its old clothes? how much can this body eat in one sitting?

and then you're reaching exciting new firsts: this body is the biggest it's ever been. this body has never been so sensitive. this body has outgrown its wardrobe, its seatbelt, its bed, its bathtub. this body has never eaten so much in a snack, a meal, a sitting, a day, a week.

and now you're reveling in it: this body has become a vehicle for simulation, satisfaction, oversatiation. this body is so greedy, so lazy, so needy. this body is so expansive, so lush, so soft. this body craves more, and it will have what it wants. this body is horny, this body is hungry, this body is both? this body wants to consume everything, burst buttons, break furniture, consume everything, and beyond.

but it's not just the body, is it? it never was. it's a hungry, greedy mindset, choosing to push a body to the limits of human capability. it's looking for ways to experience sensory and sensual overload, to give in to every impulse and succumb to pure appetite. this isn't just a kink-- on some level this is reaching into the realm of the divine to pursue a lascivious, insatiable lifestyle hitherto only known by the gods. humans have never known this kind of life, never been able to consume so much, grow so large, and feel so much pleasure.

but you will.

maybe that makes you a deviant, maybe that makes you unusual, but for however long you want, i want you to feast. i want you to gorge yourself and experience new plateaus of rapture, surrounding yourself with admiring online onlookers, mouths agape in worshipful awe, and the remains of the entire costco cake you just demolished. i want you panting, sweating, groaning and bursting at the seams with your sheer fucking gluttony. i want you round and bulging, bloated and engorged, rolls jiggling, as you moan and writhe under the weight of yet another 10K caloric cataclysm and come to the orgasmic realization that you have finally, truly

let

yourself

GO.

#feeding kink #gaining weight on purpose #fat belly #feedee encouragement #stuffed piggy #belly expansion #stuffed feedee #ssbbw feedee #looking for a feeder #gaining on purpose

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 1 month

Text

The Assembly sees a cast of thirty-five interviewers who are autistic, neurodivergent or learning disabled, question an A-list celebrity for one extraordinary TV interview.

In this half-hour special, it's multi-award-winning actor and director, Michael Sheen, who is to face the grilling of a lifetime from the unique collective. No subject is out of bounds, no question is off the table.

On subjects as diverse as ex-girlfriends and on-screen kisses, to the OBE he gave back or his favourite motorway, how will the Good Omens star fare as The Assembly bring their unique approach to the celebrity interview?

The Assembly cast is a diverse cast ranging in age from eighteen to seventy-seven, amongst the group are musicians, artists, writers and students. Each will take their own approach in their attempt to get to the truth of Michael Sheen like nobody before has- whether that’s finding out his favourite sandwich filling or how he felt when his daughter was born.

The format is an adaptation of French show Les Rencontres Du Papotin, which saw the likes of Emmanuel Macron and Camille Cotin (Call My Agent) face the neurodivergent journalists of the Papotin. Gone was the flattery of the usual celeb fare – in its place, a mix of mischievous prodding, leftfield quizzing and profound exchanges. The superstars left completely off guard: actors asked about a driving ban or the death of a parent, the President asked if it’s really the behaviour of a role model to marry one’s teacher.

The show comes from Michelle Singer and Stu Richards' Rockerdale Studios, creators of mischievous content which seeks to put disabled agency at its heart. Stu is also known for co-creating and writing the BBC Three comedy, Jerk, and Rockerdale are most known for Channel 4’s Mission: Accessible.

Rockerdale Studios has worked closely with the BBC’s Creative Diversity Team, to ensure every element of the series works for and with autistic and neurodivergent voices.

The Assembly is a half-hour special to celebrate Autism Acceptance Week. Expect profound revelation, glorious chaos, and a lot of laughs.

The Assembly airs Friday 5 April, 10:40pm on BBC One and iPlayer

Interview with Michael Sheen

What made you say yes to being a part of The Assembly?

I said yes to being a part of The Assembly because it was just such an extraordinary and interesting idea. Then reading about the original French series, it just sounded so extraordinary, different and potentially a very revealing way to approach the tried and tested interview process, but obviously it is a lot more than just being an interview. The interview part of it is just one aspect of the project and I think there is still a lot of confusion, ignorance and fear around people with any kind of difference. I think being able to be involved in a project like this could maybe break down some of those barriers.

How is this different from any other TV show you’ve been a part of?

It’s very much unfiltered and that’s really exciting and quite nerve wracking for that reason! So much on TV is sort of smoothed out and filtered and made safe and this, certainly in the making of it, felt very not that! All the better and more refreshing for it too. I know a lot of work is put into the research and preparation for a show like this, but in terms of the actual questions being asked and the experience that you have in all being together when you’re filming, it feels very unpredictable in a really good way and really lead by the people taking part, which is terrific.

How did you feel going into filming?

Well I didn’t really have anything to go on, so I was excited. Sometimes when I’m going to be interviewed, I know what the interview is going to be about, I have a vague idea of the questions that will come up, I know the sort of things that I need to get across about what I’m there to talk about. But with this, I really had no idea what I was going to be asked, so I had to be prepared for everything and anything, there was a kind of freedom in that I suppose. Because of the unfiltered nature of what was going to happen and not being able to anticipate what might be asked, it was a little nerve wracking yes, but I was mainly just very excited!

Did your experience differ from what you were expecting and if so how?

Well I didn’t know what to expect really, so it’s not that it wasn’t what I was expecting because you can’t expect anything! There's no way you can expect anything because you just don’t know what’s going to happen, and because it is so unfiltered and unpredictable in terms of what might happen, where things might go, how people might be feeling on the day. For all the difficult questions that got asked at times, it just felt very loving and joyful and that everyone was very happy and excited to be there even though people were nervous or had anxiety at different times. There was a genuine feeling of community and I felt very welcomed into that community and ready to play so to speak, and you have to be ready to play. I felt very safe and looked after and it was just really, very funny as well – there was lots of laughter and wonderful things that people asked, responded to and performed, I mean I wasn’t expecting all of that, that was just wonderful! So many moments that I’ll never forget.

How does this compare to any other interview you’ve experienced?

It’s so unfiltered! The closest thing I can say is The One Show, where you go on to talk about one thing and then they ask you about everything else that’s going on on the show, so you get a question about your favourite bus route, then they ask you about otters! There’s an extraordinary pinball effect of questions and that’s the closest I could describe, but The Assembly is that x100. It really is extraordinary and that’s very unlike any other interview I’ve done really, usually everything is meant to follow on logically and have a kind of smoothness and polish to it, and this is just really raw and unfiltered and uncensored and I love that, I thought that was wonderful.

What can viewers expect from the show?

I imagine it will be very funny and I think quite moving. I was quite moved at times by seeing how much people had to struggle to overcome certain things they were dealing with in order to ask questions at times. That was uplifting. I think it will be different, it will be thought provoking I hope, and challenging in certain ways; challenging certain kinds of myths and stereotypes I think and ultimately just really entertaining and fun and joyful. I can’t really remember what I said, so I don’t know what people will learn about me... but it’s not about me, it’s about that fantastic group of people, but I certainly got a huge amount out of it too and I hope an audience will as well.

#michael sheen #the assembly #interview #michael interview #sounds great! :) <3

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ms-demeanor · 8 months

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since twitter has become actively hostile to its users, so they came to tumblr, and reddit has become actively hostile to its users, so they came to tumblr, what do we do now that tumblr is becoming (more) actively hostile to its users? i’ve been here for over a decade so i know tumblr users are the type to cling on despite everything and revel in undoing every change, but i’m so tired of the way this website breaks the way it fundamentally works in order to appeal to new users. the twitterfication of the site seems so much worse than when people jumped ship after the porn ban, and even then, only small communities (and twitter) cropped up as solutions. you might not be the person to ask for a definitive answer, but i figured a tech blog might be interested in considering - what do we do when there’s nowhere left to go?

Okay so, I mean this very seriously: how has tumblr meaningfully become like twitter?

I don't personally find the sidebar view obnoxious and it seems to me like just another layout change that's pretty typical to tumblr. New users are getting signed up with a bit more emphasis on algorithmic feeds, but that is still very easy to change (MUCH easier than on any other social platform) and the algorithm has been there for everyone for quite a while, we just typically don't notice it because a lot of long-term tumblr users don't go into the "for you" feed.

I don't think that tumblr *has* fundamentally broken the way that it works to appeal to new users. My dash now is still very much like my dash in 2019, and still very much like my dash in 2018 (though much less pornographic). Reblogs are still reblogs, likes are still likes. Replies, for all that they seem like they've been around forever, are new and good and I think they work well. I'm irritated that the notes menu doesn't have a "view all" option but I think that's a worthwhile tradeoff for an easy way to see tags.

I *do not* understand why tumblr has broken linking back to previous reblogs but I don't think that's out of an effort to act like twitter; it is a bizarre choice that I dislike and don't understand but I also don't think that it has fundamentally changed the way the site works and i mean you've been around long enough that I'm sure you've had the same experience I have of going into the notes of a post and randomly clicking until you found a version that you wanted to reblog without a bunch of bullshit at the bottom. Tumblr has always kind of sucked, this change DOES suck but it doesn't suck in a way that is particularly novel or insurmountable. (For instance, I think this change sucks MUCH LESS than when they made posts with links invisible to the search, that is something that is genuinely bad that has been long lasting but doesn't get brought up much in lists of the ways that tumblr has gone wrong)

Tumblr *is* changing, but I think it is changing more incrementally and less terribly than other parts of the internet. I also hate the floating clown, the login walls, the dash-only view for blogs (you can't archive it and I HATE that), and - to an extent - the new lightbox on mobile. And I dislike that less than I thought I would but I don't think it's a fundamental change that necessarily impacts my interactions with the site - it *adds* a feature that I don't care for but it doesn't *break* anything that I require to have a good time on tumblr - in that way I think of it very much like Live. People hate Live so much and I find that perplexing because it is so easy to simply ignore it.

But that's not really your question; that's just some stuff I want people to think about because as much as tumblr has changed in the last two years it is nowhere near as fucked up as the recent things that twitter and reddit have pulled.

So, as to your question: where do we go?

Well. Not to be an extremely old person on the internet, but damned if I don't miss email lists. And forums. God I miss forums. Neither of those things has all the bonuses of platforms like twitter or reddit or tumblr or facebook, but they were great ways to hang out with people you liked on the internet.

The internet is changing. I can feel it, you can feel it, I'm pretty sure we're all like cattle in a field lifting our noses and hearing some distant rumbling and becoming slowly aware that it's almost time to run. There's a coming stampede and it isn't here yet but you know it's on its way. You're not imagining that, that's how things feel right now and there are a shitload of things contributing to it.

Things like SESTA/FOSTA and KOSA (which has not passed yet but is a big red flag waving on the horizon) have been eroding away the way that users on various platforms can function. Some platforms have consolidated in ways that harm users; some new platforms have popped up and shaken up the map of the internet; some platforms are being torn apart brick by brick by owners who don't care about the users. It kind of seems like people are actually looking up and realizing that advertising is A) bad and B) doesn't actually work and I think we're running straight toward another advertising-based crash like we saw in 2017. It feels like all the desperate things that tumblr is doing is just rearranging deck chairs on the titanic as the internet as a whole starts to sink into the ocean.

Honestly, I don't think it's that bad. I think it *feels* bad, but I think we're looking at a slow whimpering death of the platforms, not a bang. I think tumblr is going to hang on at least for a few years and I think it's going to end up like livejournal and myspace, which both still exist as websites that are recognizable as updated versions of the sites they were in 2004-2010. The thing that I think would really, honestly hurt tumblr in a fundamental way is if it moved to a more algorithmic and data-sales based model of advertising, and I think that's still pretty distant. I think Automattic is aware that killing the chronological feed would be the one unforgivable sin that would cause a mass exodus and a final crash, and I think when we see that, when we can't just scroll through the feed and see what our friends did that day in order of when they did it, that's when the party is over here.

But that's still not answering your question.

So, where do we go? What do we do? Well, for now, I'd say it's a good time to get contact info for your friends across various platforms. Get email addresses, get phone numbers.

Now is also the time for you to set up a personal website. NeoCities is currently the best place to do this, though it takes a lot more effort than just starting a blog on tumblr. I think that various oldschool blogging sites like Wordpress and Blogger/Blogspot/whatever the hell the google one is are a better place to have your emergency backup than a more platform-y platform if you aren't up to doing something with NeoCities.

If you've got the ability to do so and a group of people who are interested in the same core subject, set up a forum. There's a decent amount of off-the-shelf forum software out there and a text-and-small-images forum isn't prohibitively expensive, but it's never going to be huge and you're never going to have the kind of spread and virality and random connections that you would on a platform with millions or billions of users.

If you can't set up a forum, setting up or joining a discord server for your friends is a decent enough option at the moment, and may be a very good option for people who are looking to keep their interactions more private.

But yeah i think right now is a great time for people to start setting up their own personal websites, to start visiting actual webpages again, to start bookmarking their friends' websites, and to start collecting contact info that isn't tied to platforms.

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byeol-ssi · 1 year

Text

nothing more, nothing less

Kaz Brekker was acquainted with different monsters. Those wrapped in expensive silk and bathed in sickening perfume. Those who spouted beautiful lies, enticing unwitting men into their dens. Those with hands stained crimson, preying on children and fools alike. His reflection on a mirror.

But the green-eyed beast proved to be a terrifying match.

Or, Kaz gets jealous.

✦ kaz brekker x gn!reader | grishaverse

✦ tags: jealous kaz, lieutenant!reader, (kind of?) enemies to lovers, set sometime after the events of crooked kingdom

"Brekker."

"Darling," KAZ drawled without looking up at your arrival, his tone more mocking than affectionate. "You're two bells late. Do you have the—"

A roll of parchment zipped through the air, landing in the middle of his desk with startling accuracy and ruining the neatly arranged blueprints spread atop it.

"I told you to quit calling me that," you muttered darkly. "One of these days, I'll really cut off your tongue."

He huffed, concealing his amusement. He enjoyed calling you all sorts of endearments after discovering how easily they riled you up.

There are times when Kaz allowed himself to feel, to act, like a boy again. Reconcile with a distant past, one that echoed Jordie's voice and carried the smell of fresh grass.

This was one of them. Similar to a child, Kaz reveled in your attention. Regardless if they came as threats, insults, or downright disdain.

He'd swallow a bullet first than ever admit it, though.

"How terrifying," he said, unfazed, and made swift work of straightening out the floor plan you brought him.

Silence fell, interrupted only by the soft shuffling of papers. From the corner of his eye, he noticed you shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

Normally, Kaz would come up with some sort of excuse to make you stay, but it seemed that something was on your mind.

And so, he waited.

You cleared your throat. "Do you need anything else?"

No, but thank you. You did well. Please, get some rest, his thoughts supplied. He ignored them. Instead, he simply settled on, "No."

His movements stilled. The question was unusual, especially coming from you.

"Nothing more, nothing less," you had once told him, seated on the ledge of a stadwatch tower that overlooked Ketterdam's shores. He'd nodded in agreement back then, mesmerized by the early sunlight that caressed your face.

You lived by the old saying for as long as Kaz has known you. After all, when you grew up in the Barrel, you'd learned early on that acting out of the goodness of one's heart only left a person broken. Penniless. Or worse, dead.

As such, you weren't the type to seek additional assignments without an offer beforehand. The fact that you had gone out of your way to ask was... suspicious.

His eyes finally flicked to yours. He could never afford to look at you for too long, as it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to stop once he started.

He cocked his head to the side and searched your gaze. "Why?"

You blinked, clearly caught off guard. He rarely indulged you in idle conversation or pried into your affairs.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Because despite everything you've been through together, this was the nature of your relationship too. Neither of you tried to change it, even after every scar he unraveled and laid at your feet.

Even after numerous nights spent confined in his office, shoulders almost, but never brushing one another as you pored over schemes for hours.

Even after repeatedly saving each other's necks and during the intimate silences that followed when the adrenaline wore off. Moments taut with charged tension, heaving breaths, and unspoken truths.

"I've got plans," you explained rather cryptically.

"Plans? Has someone else hired you for a job? I hope you don't forget that you belong to—"

"No, someone asked me out on a date."

Me, insisted the voice in his head, rich with desperation. You belong to me.

Kaz scoffed in disbelief. "A date? In Ketterdam?"

Fear clawed its way up his throat, determined to make itself known. It warred with another emotion he was too proud to name.

This... feeling was absurd. Sentimental. Kaz was no stranger to loss.

The seas granted Inej her freedom. A new chapter awaited Jesper and Wylan. Nina stumbled upon a second chance at love. Matthias found peace.

Yet, deep down, each farewell left him a little more empty than the last.

You were bound to Ketterdam only by virtue of being the Dreg's sole lieutenant. In truth, nothing else was preventing you from leaving.

Leaving him.

After promoting you, a tiny seed of guilt buried itself in his cold, wretched heart when he realized he held you back. That he never gave you the opportunity to pursue your dreams. Your position forced you to assume several roles, to fill in the shoes the others had given up.

But his greed outweighed his guilt and Kaz was a selfish man indeed.

The mere idea that someone could whisk you away from him brought forth a hateful bitterness from within.

"Where is the unfortunate fellow taking you?" he asked, keeping his voice deceptively calm.

You narrowed your eyes, ignoring the jibe. "It's a quaint little bar called 'none of your business.'"

Nothing more, nothing less. The phrase taunted him now. The green-eyed monster inside him rattled his ribcage ferociously, driving him to boast.

He curled his fingers around the desk's edge tightly. "Funny. I run the entirety of the Barrel, and I don't recall an establishment operating under that name."

"I'll have you know that he actually owns the place he's bringing me to," you snapped defensively.

Good, good. More information.

"And how long have you known each other?"

You shrugged. "A few weeks."

The answer relieved him somewhat. His possessiveness ebbs, its rhythm steady, before it swelled again, rising with the current of his emotions. One should always be more sure of everything. He'd learned that the hard way.

"And he's aware of who you truly are?" Kaz pressed on. "Of what you do?"

There were only a handful of possibilities. The person could have ulterior motives for approaching you. It wasn't unlikely, considering your power was only second to his.

Perhaps it was a spiteful soul he'd wronged, plotting to take advantage of you and get revenge on him.

On the other hand, there was also a chance that they weren't privy to your true identity. He couldn't blame anyone for wanting you but it was common knowledge whispered in the streets that Kaz Brekker was a man unwilling to share.

Anyone who didn't heed that advice and went against it anyway was just recklessly bold. Or stupid. The Barrel never seemed to run out of those.

This time, you broke away from his gaze. "It doesn't matter." You sniffed, feigning indifference.

The person didn't know then, he surmised. You probably met him during one of your undercover assignments, disguised and masquerading around with an alias.

Sensing his disapproval, you attempted to defend your date-to-be by adding, "He's kind. Sweet. Honest."

Everything he was not. The words, sharp as glass, ripped him apart. Crushed him with an overwhelming weight of sorrow.

"It seems naive of you to form an impression of him in such a short amount of time," he said through gritted teeth.

Pretending as if he didn't care should have been easy for him. Right now, all his years of experience in perfecting that charade were useless.

You rolled your eyes. "Not everyone is cynical and distrusting of the world like you. People can be good, Brekker."

And you deserved everything good and more. Better people could love you, he knew.

Someone who would not flinch every time you drew near. Someone who would freely kiss away your every fear.

Kaz had survived gunshots. Knife wounds. Sickness, nightmares, and grief. But the very thought of someone else soaking in your warmth was an ache he could not bear.

He felt the words scorching his tongue, his demons voicing them with unbridled cruelty. "There is a difference between being cautious and acting like a love-sick fool!"

Your eyes widened in shock, hardening in anger a second later; then they softened with disappointment, and all Kaz could see was the reflection of himself, a frenzied animal. A blown fuse. Inhumanely hollow.

He opened his mouth to speak, beg for your forgiveness, but you had already turned and walked away.

"I'll come back when you aren't hissing at me like a wet cat," you said, slamming the door behind you.

Kaz clenched his gloved hands into aching fists and hung his head, trying not to think of how jealous the idea of another man made him.

He wasn't too late. Dealing with his emotions was uncharted territory for him but scheming came as effortlessly as he breathed.

Kaz never lost a fight and he wasn't about to start now. Even if he needed to play dirty. His greed outweighed his guilt and he wasn't called Dirtyhands for nothing.

"Brekker!"

Kaz had just finished speaking with another gang member, Roeder, when he heard the heavy stomp of your footsteps, followed by the frustrated yell of his name. You appeared on the stairway landing soon after, rage thundering in your wake.

"You're dismissed." Kaz waved to Roeder. His eyes shifted to you momentarily and cast Kaz a wary glance. Not wanting to get caught in the crossfire, he scurried off, slipping past the both of you.

Kaz began to ascend the stairs, you trailing behind him. He could sense that you were shooting daggers at the back of his head, probably cursing him out silently.

"You're back early," he finally said once you entered his office. He circled back to the same place you'd left him hours earlier and sat in his chair. "How'd the date go?"

You stormed closer, wedging yourself between him and the desk, stopping him from hiding behind the pretense of work.

"You know exactly how it went," you snarled.

In spite of your anger, you remembered to maintain your distance. Not once have you commented on his aversion to skin-to-skin contact, though he was certain you harbored your own questions.

"I'm afraid I don't, darling." He raised his chin to hold your gaze, his expression carefully blank. A tailored mask. "I wasn't there."

"You had him taken by the Dregs." The hurt on your face was unmistakable, enough for Kaz to feel a tad remorseful.

It was hardly sufficient, though. Screw righteousness, old habits die hard. "Ah, I had no idea he was your date," he lied again.

"Bullshit."

"But, what I do know is that he laundered money from our coffers and forced children into building the same tavern you were just in."

Kaz went over records of the jobs you'd accomplished in the last two months. After connecting the dots, he successfully identified your date and paid Roeder to look into his background. It was pure luck that the man was a merchant who managed to con Kaz's old boss.

Pulling the strings for his capture was practically child's play. Not that he'd ever tell you that.

Your fury dissipated, replaced by defeat that slumped your shoulders. "You were right," you said quietly, avoiding his eye once more. "I'm sorry."

Kaz rose from his chair and stepped forward. Taken by surprise, you backed away instinctively, only to find yourself trapped by the desk now digging into your hip.

"Let me make it up to you," he spoke with an unfamiliar softness. It almost sounded wrong.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "What?"

"I ruined your evening. I could have ordered the others to seize him after you finished dinner."

But I didn't want him to walk you home. Wrap his coat around your shoulders. Kiss you goodnight at the Slat's doorstep. Kaz would've probably loaded his pistol at the sight. Broken every limb that touched you with his cane.

You snorted. "Okay. Are you going to give me whatever we steal next? Increase my cut?"

"No, although we can discuss it another time. I'm inviting you out on a date."

You blinked once. Twice. Slowly, you said, "Brekker, you ask someone out when you like them."

His lips pulled into the slightest frown, mildly impatient. "I know."

"You don't like me."

"Whoever put that silly idea in your head?"

"You did. You don't like anyone."

"I may not be the best at showing it, but you know that there are exceptions to that rule," he argued. "Especially when it comes to you."

He continued to lean over you, ignoring the pressure of panic beating against the walls of his chest from the proximity.

"You called me an idiot," you countered. You refused to move a muscle, most likely out of consideration for him, but he closed the distance himself.

He dipped his head further. "Again, I never said that."

"Fine," you conceded, sounding fond. "You implied that I was an idiot."

"I'll be kinder from now on," he promised. "I can try to be sweet, if you give me time and chance to learn. And I'm being honest right now."

Nothing he could do would ever atone for his sins. But although he was renowned as the Bastard of the Barrel, he was prepared to do it right by you.

Hesitantly, you raised a hand. Every inch of his flesh wanted to turn itself inside out, but every bone in his body yearned for your touch.

A quivering sigh escaped his throat as you reached for his cheek, your fingers warm and gentle on his skin.

He braced himself for the familiar scent of death. The ocean. He willed himself to focus on the details that made your face. The line of your jaw to your ear. The slope of your nose. The curve of your lips, hanging onto them as if his life depended on it.

It did, in a way.

"Your answer?" he rasped, suppressing a shiver.

You dragged your thumb against his skin in a delicate but paralyzingly manner and whispered, "I accept."

He had never been held with such tenderness before. Your touch made him feel like he was somewhere else, far from the memories that haunted him.

Growing concerned, you attempted to withdraw your hand but Kaz grasped your wrist before you fully could. He steadied himself with your pulse, each beat, each hymn, anchoring him to the present.

He was here. With you. In his office. Nothing in the world could hurt him.

Eventually, he slid his own gloved hand so that your palms pressed together. Your lashes fluttered and you asked, "Is this really happening? Are we really going on a date?"

He hummed in affirmation. "And I'll do it properly."

Seriously, who in their right mind would bring you to that side of Ketterdam? He took the sealed envelope containing your dinner reservation from inside his coat and handed it to you.

"Thank you." Your mouth curved into a shy smile. "And for the record... you don't have to be anything else other than yourself."

"Ruthless, callous, and dishonest cheat?" His voice held a hint of insecurity, betraying his attempted nonchalance. It was a question hauled from the inner depths of his soul, the boy inside him who wondered if he could ever be worthy of love.

"You forgot insufferable," you teased, although your earnest gaze belied the lightness of your tone. He knew you could see right through him. "But, yes. Just you, Kaz. Nothing more. Nothing less."

At that moment, Kaz knew you would be his salvation and destruction. You could shatter his heart and every single piece would still cry out for your name.

He squeezed your hand. Soon, he'll make you, and everyone else in the Barrel, realize that he had no intentions of ever letting you go.

✦ byeol’s notes: new year, new fandom ?!

✦ reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated! thank you so, so much in advance! <3

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ot3 · 1 year

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What Is ORV?

The number one question I get asked on this blog, now answered better than ever. Today I am going to formally introduce you to Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

To start off this recommendation: ORV might very well be my favorite thing I've read. Ever. If I could only reread one thing for the rest of my life it'd be this webnovel.

My elevator pitch is this: something with the cosmic-scale goofy video game nonsense and intricate setting comparable to Homestuck in its prime, paired with the deft emotional poignancy and emotionally-driven fights of Mob Psycho 100, topped off with the sort of compassionate and heartwrenching metanarrative of Undertale.

ORV is a love letter to it's own readers. ORV revels in the joy of losing yourself in fiction, even when it's the kind of fiction that tends to be considered lowbrow or worthless. It's something that dances the delicate line between recognizing the difficult nature of using media as escapism without condemning it. I've rarely seen anything else that accomplishes everything it sets out to do in its narrative with such remarkable precision. Frankly if you're reading a tumblr media recommendation post in 2023, I can almost guarantee ORV has the kind of meat you're looking for in a narrative, whatever that may be.

The story follow the antics of protagonist Kim Dokja, a 28 year old office worker on an expiring contract, whose only real joy in life is reading his favorite massively long and massively boring webnovel. One day, the novel’s events - worldwide deathmatches aired for the entertainment of mysterious higher beings called ‘constellations’ - begin playing out in reality in a sort of reverse-isekai. Kim Dokja, the only longterm reader of this webnovel, finds himself uniquely poised to succeed based on the advantages given to him by his knowledge of future events, but the webnovel’s actual protagonist, Yoo Jonghyuk, is a violent monster who will stop at absolutely nothing to complete his goals, no matter the cost to anyone else. Kim Dokja finds himself in a delicate dance of guiding the events of the story to play out more favorably than the version he read while trying to avoid being massacred in the fallout, all while trying to see it through to the story’s end.

Below the cut I'll go into a more in-depth (but non-spoilery) explanation of what exactly makes ORV so unique and worthwhile, and what you're in for if you choose to read it.

Clocking in at 550 chapters, and over 1.3 million words in English, ORV may seem incredibly daunting to dip your toes into, but I assure you it's worth every moment. I would read 1.3 million more words if they had them for me. Here are some things about ORV I consider to be selling points, not necessarily in any particular order:

The tone. Its funny, for starters. It is extremely funny, which is very high up on my media priority list. In ORV, there will be incredibly grim things that make you laugh, and incredibly cringe and silly anime bullshit that will hurt you as heavily as any other media you’ve seen. I always love this kind of tonal whiplash when it's well executed, and ORV probably executes it better than anything else I've seen to date.

It’s got fun and fascinating worldbuilding mechanics. the core concept being ‘reality now operates on the rules of a shitty novel’ means that the worldbuilding doesn’t have to function logically, it functions thematically. It’s explicitly stated in ORV canon that some of the internal rules governing this new reality are objectively really stupid and illogical, but they just have to roll with it because that’s what was in the book, and i think it’s a really enjoyable way to do it. This may at first sound like a copout to excuse bad worldbuilding, but I promise it isn’t. The worldbuilding is actually incredibly deeply thought out, but it doesn’t exist for the sake of rational function, it exists for the sake of furthering orv’s thematic arcs. The rules by which this universe operate do a magnificent job of strengthening the core concepts the authors are exploring.

It plays with the trappings of isekai/litrpg in a really thoughtful way. These are genres I'm not super familiar with, so I can't comment on this point too heavily, but with my limited knowledge ORV feels a lot less of a deconstruction of it's genre and more of a celebration/interrogation of it. Despite that, it's still accessible to readers such as myself who are not super familiar with these genre conventions.

It deals with morality in a really wonderful and nuanced way. there are almost no characters in ORV’s extremely large cast who are just explicitly morally condemnable, and almost every conflict allows you to understand exactly why the antagonists believe they’re in the right by opposing the actions of our protagonists. The central conflicts are never pure right and pure wrong; they’re always about contrasting goals, conflicting worldviews, and different priorities between ends and means. this makes the conflicts all feel so much more dynamic and engaging than those where the only stakes are physical harm.

The characters interpersonal relationships are some of the most interesting I've ever seen. ORV is very slow burn and it takes a long time for a lot of these to come out of the woodwork, by design, but by god once they do they fucking hit. Similar to the plot conflicts, the interpersonal conflicts also almost never occur where there’s one side clearly in the wrong. The characters are almost all genuinely attempting to do their best by each other, and the tension comes from the ways in which human communication is fundamentally imperfect and part of our feelings and intentions get lost in translation. it’s very heartwrenching and heartwarming to see unfold, in equal measure.

Following from that, it’s a narrative that really meaningfully prioritizes non-romantic relationships over romantic ones as the central focus. Orv is about love, but not about romance. Obviously there’s shipbait and the ot3 is real and good and my friend but if you’re looking for deep complex platonic, (found or otherwise) familial, and antagonistic relationships that never get ruined with forced romantic arcs, we got em baby!

The pacing is unlike anything i’ve ever seen before. from a purely technical standpoint, it is genuinely a fascinating case study in how to execute a narrative that is almost constantly escalating without exception. there is very little downtime or breathing room in orv, which is insane for something that clocks in at over a million words, and somehow, it still works. i’ve never felt more like a frog in a pot of slowly boiling water than i did when i was reading orv and i can’t believe they pulled it off. it’s so interesting to read something like that.

It is a tragedy without resorting to cynicism and a very adult narrative that’s really steeped in childlike wonder. I’m a big fan of cartoons made for children. Cartoons made for children are some of my favorite things to watch, but of course children’s media will always be simplified and not very relatable to an adult audience. ORV is very much a serious and heavy adult narrative, and a deeply tragic one at that, but it never delves into torture porn. It’s a very compassionate piece of media overall, that holds a lot of reverence and sympathy for the ‘naive’ optimism of children that gets stripped down over time. if you, like me, feel more like a grown up child than an adult some days, I think it’ll hit for you.

It is extremely cathartic and meaningful. I am not exaggerating at all when I say that reading it gave me the closest thing I have ever felt to any sort of spiritual breakthrough. It helped unfuck my head a ton during some very grim times and i think the perspective it offers on the value of human life and our relationship to storytelling is a really really good one.

And if my word isn't enough, here's some reviews from satisfied customers. With that, I'll leave the rest to you, and hope you one day reach the end of the story.

#media recs #orv

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borzoilover69 · 2 months

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I have a headcanon on how these guys style themselves postgame and you WILL hear me out.

Kanaya, Roxy, and Jade are self explanatory. They know how they want to present themselves. They know how to go forward with that. They’ve got colour combos and layering and fashion choices suited to their particular style IN THE BAG. Loud, prominent, they know whats up.

Jake, Calliope, and Jane get nudged into giving a fuck about fashion by anyone named above, or rather their own desire to dress up…Jake moreso because as a celebrity he gives too much of a fuck about his image to be anything less. Callie of course is affectionate enough with jade and roxy that they teach her how to style and i think she would like lolita and more daintier feminine stuff than roxy, but she does tend to sometimes switch over to suits. Jane is pure butch energy she dresses like a guy but as a girl with fashion sense. Like strict lesbian style. I dont know how else to fucking put it she would dress like how a butch lesbian would.

Jane and Jake stylewise would be similiar to some retro callback summer movie where everyones on a roadtrip in a yellow van or something except jake is more prone to extravagancy because he gives more of a fuck. Also one of them is wearing dresses and its NOT Jane.

Dirk and Rose.. fashion disasters. Dirk doesnt know fashion weight for a while and tries too hard id even suspect that he would try and mimic daves fashion style for a while until john or someone else blatantly calls him out in an offhand comment and jake and the rest of his friends start getting on his fucking case about being so bland with his fashion takes (all primaries, little to no patterns, basic, no layering.) that he caves and starts taking it like a personal challenge to style well.

At some point he has a revelation and realises he can get piercings and starts leaning into that and punk / gothish fashion. Black with complimentary colours recommended by friends.

Rose is sort of a fashion trainwreck like for all of kanayas nudging she doesnt really give a fuck and kanaya starts dictating her outfits and then of course she also gets the "someone makes an offhand comment that makes them mald really hard about it and go into a snooty onesided competition to prove they GET IT actually and that you were TOTALLY wrong about them not GETTING IT." Its the only way Dirk and Rose start caring.

Terezi and John get nudged around by their respective compadres about fashion sense and style, but they generally dont give a damn and have their own thing going for them. Theyve got their own vibe and style that feels well on them and especially terezi wise i think she would lean into the fashion disaster for fun. As long as the colours taste well together, who gives a damn about layering etc etc. throw in some crocs with a suit. An oversized shirt with a tapered skirt. Who cares. John is more tried and true but he styles out ENOUGH so he doesnt end up in the last (deorgatory) category.

Dave and Karkat are the real stubborn contendors of the friendgroup fashionwise. Baggy on baggy outfitwear. WILL get on your case if you point out had it not been for their respective colour choices they basically dress the exact same. Same mix of cargo pants, sweatpants, tracksuit pants, hoodies, and tshirts to keep them going for the lifetime. There js nothing else. Whats layering. Accessories? Well except for a watch hard pass. Patterned clothing? No way. Basic colours ONLY. Maybe Dave would dig long shorts ive always seen him as a longshorts kind of guy but its never anything noteworthy. Type of guys to choose what theyre wearing with their eyes closed thats how basic their closet is.

Anyways thats my style and fashion thoughts. Let me know what you think. Discuss and all that. Also tag yourself on which one youre closest to stylewise. Im jake. Obviously.

#homestuck #hom3stuck #dirk strider #jake english #dave strider #rose lalonde #roxy lalonde #john egbert #terezi pyrope #kanaya maryam #calliope #jade harley #jane crocker #karkat vantas #borzoi meta #borzoi talks #im in the fog so thisll be the last post for a while #💥💥💥 thoughts and stuff

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bittencandy · 2 months

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𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖐

✧ 𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔰𝔣𝔴 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫'𝔰

. toxic relationship themes: controlling behavior, possessiveness, mammon being mammon.

✧If there was one thing in your relationship with Mammon that you hadn't quite gotten used to yet, it would be how cold he is. Sure, he isn't horridly so. But he's chilly enough that it can surprise you when he touches you when you aren't expecting it. Mostly when he isn't wearing his gloves, the smooth leather working as a buffer between the subtle frost of his palms and your skin. The first time you had felt his bare flesh against your own you had to will yourself not to jerk and move out from underneath his grip from instinct alone. He gets a kick out of it. Seeing how you squirm from the gentle chill. He'll often sneak up behind you, pulling a pair of his gloves off to slip his bare hands underneath your shirt randomly throughout the day and night, reveling in the way that you gasp aloud at their contact. He enjoys it even more when you turn around to scold him. He'll blink at you cluelessly while you glare up at him with insults on your tongue. He loves to play dumb, even when the smile on his face is just a bit too sharp, too big to be truly apologetic or perplexed.

✧ Due to his chilly body temperature; his body's inability to produce its own heat, he will absolutely use you to steal yours. Any amount of warmth that your body generates, from a lot to a little, it doesn't matter, he will latch onto you like a leech to soak it into his skin. You've practically become a portable heater for the King of Greed at this point, with him toting you around like you're a sack full of feathers, regardless of your height or weight, he will scoop you up with a pair of his arms and secure you to his body. Or he'll have you perched up on his shoulder like some kind of parrot. If you happen to be latched onto him at any point of the day, held within the cradle of his arms or draped along him, he will have you hand feed him food. Whatever he's craving, really. Anything from a bag of potato chips to cupcakes. The healthiest thing he's ever had you feed him was grapes, but you were pretty sure he just did that because you were out in public, and he wanted to "look regal."

✧ But his desire to hold you also stems from a place of possession as well. It's a silent yet bold way to communicate that you're his without having to say a single word. And his possessive tendencies definitely know no bounds. He absolutely loves it when you wear his colors or anything that could be linked to his image or brand. Anything from diamond and money motifs, shades of green or gold, or if you're bold with it and outright wear his merch and clothing that sports his name or sigil. It strokes his ego like nothing else. Especially if you wear it at your own accord and he doesn't have to convince you to, he'll be so smug about it; practically gloating with that wide smile stretched out across his face and his ego having inflated about ten times bigger than it already is. Like it needs to get any bigger.

✧ He makes chokers out of his web - collars really and keeps them snuggly secured around your neck at all times. It takes a while for the silk threads to wear down and weaken (typically a few weeks), and as soon as one does it's swiftly being replaced by another, more sturdier string of webbing. But you can't deny that you have a soft spot for the little DIY necklaces. You feel a little sentimental, balmy warmth flutter in your chest every time you catch sight of them in the mirror. And it's an added plus that they're gorgeous in their delicate, silvery glint; reflecting traces of light in a soft green and purple glow with a sort of iridescent shimmer.

If he's feeling particularly clingy, he may also weave bracelets for both your wrists and ankles for you to wear. He gets upset whenever you wear something may cover them up. Anything that's has long sleeves or a shirt with a high neckline that may keep the choker concealed. The first time you had worn a top that covered up your throat and forgot to slip the webbed necklace out from underneath the fabric he had taken a personal offence to it. Plucking at the fabric of your shirt with his face twisted up in a scowl, the burning chartreuse of his eyes narrowing at the top like its existence was a crime. "What the fuck is this?" He had sneered, eyebrow raising with a curious sort of disdain while he snagged the front of your shirt with the point of his claw; the only thing that kept it from ripping into the material of your top was the glove covering the lethal edge. "You trying to hide our relationship? Does it embarrass you?" An absolute drama queen, really.

✧ A billionaire he is but a sugar daddy he is not (at least not in the typical sense). Mammon clings to every bit of money he finds, hundred-dollar bills, fives and ones and pennies. He does not care. He's taking it and he won't spend it. Not even on himself. That's the thing with greed, is no matter how much you have, it's never enough. He acts like if he were to spend even a single cent that it would tip him into a financial ruin that he'd never recover from. He cherishes every single ounce of cash that he gets to a concerning degree, but you knew that long before you even started dating him. Regardless, it still was a little disturbing when you walked in on him talking to the bags full of money he had collected after one of his concerts. He was clutching the filled burlap sacks to his chest, breathing in the scent of the bills like they were laced with some sort of drug while he mumbled praises and drooled over them. Even worse was when he caught sight of you watching him and his eyes had turned into slits, zeroing in on you with an animal sort of instinct like you were some kind of threat. "Get the hell out of here!" He snarled, reaching for the bags of cash and the scattered bills that had managed to spill from his fervent hold. "Trying to steal my fucking money! Trying to touch it with your dirty, greedy hands! I dare ya to even fuckin' try it!" You had been quick to back out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you with a confused look pinching your face. You're like, ninety-nine percent sure that he may have gotten off to his stockpile of cash before.

He also counts it obsessively and he remember every single amount that he had. Down the cent. If so much as a penny goes missing, he absolutely loses his mind.

✧ You had learned a long time ago not to ask him for money. Case and point when you had asked him for a five-dollar bill, all because you had forgotten your wallet before you left the house and wanted a fountain drink. An otherwise harmless request, but then he had accused you of being a 'gold-digger' while you were standing in front of the soda machine. That little comment had resulted in an argument in the middle of the gas station while the cashier and customers watched in fascination.

But even with his stingy ways, that's not to say that he doesn't spoil you. But it's done in his own way. If he gifts you something, you know for a fact that he didn't pay for it. Everything that he gets, he obtains by abusing his status as a Sin or by name dropping. Reservations at the most exclusive restaurants and clubs, 'buying' clothes from the most praised shops and designers, trips to the best resorts, they're all achieved simply from his name alone. He doesn't pay a single dime. And if some tries to reject him because he refuses to pay the booking fee for a reservation, or if they claim that he 'stole' from a store - let's be honest, he totally did- they're going to find themselves on the top of the Sin's shitlist. No one gets away with refusing the King of Greed and escapes with their social image or life still intact. He's not above ruining other demons to get what he wants. His shame is nonexistent, so if someone tells him 'no' then their body may be found lying amongst the toxic garbage and ruble in one of the many landfills of the Greed Ring.

But he does greatly care about how he's perceived by the masses, and considering that you're in a relationship with him, your image must also be presentable at all times. He can't run the risk of you damaging his image. So you learned a long time ago to abuse the usage of his name in order to get what you want. Eventually you didn't even have to mention Mammon. Everyone and the Seven Rings of Hell were quick to catch onto your relationship with the Sin, and by proxy, they learned who you are. If you want something, all you have to do is tell them your name, and what you want is as good yours. It doesn't matter if it's a pair of shoes, a car, or a house. There's only a handful of people that would say no to the Embodiment of Greed, and by extension, you. So yes, you absolutely exploit the privileges of being Mammon's lover, so what?

✧ He expects you to be at all of his shows. It doesn't matter if the events are back-to-back and they all have the same set and routine, you're supposed to be there. Front row. Every. Single. Night. No excuses. And you get extra points if you're wearing his merch. Not going to lie, he's tried to get you to pay for an admission fee, even though he had asked you - invited you, to be at his show. You're the only demon in the history of Hell who will ever get into these events for free. Because you have always been adamant on telling him no. Even when he practically threw a tantrum the first time, skulking around the house, groaning and sighing and mumbling to himself like you were the most unagreeable person on the planet. And the term "mumbling" is used loosely. It could hardly be addressed that way when he was talking to himself in a way that made it more than apparent that he wanted you to hear. Calling you "ungrateful" and "money hungry" and "cheap." The complete bastard.

After he (quickly) figured out that there was no way in Hell that you were going to spend your hard-earned money on his shows, and once you had officially become exclusive (which didn't take long considering his possessive nature) he had moved you from the front row seats and onto one of the overhanging platforms, constructed from his webbing and stationed at every concert. Always safely seated above the raging, downright feral fans as they all clamor against the edge of the stage to get closer to Mammon while he gloats and preens underneath all of the attention. But even with the majority of his focus on performing and giving the crowd some half-assed speech - a large sum of it never failing to be some means to promote whatever new product he's trying to sell - he always wants you to be in his line of sight at all times. He'll lose his composure if you aren't, struggling to keep himself together on stage while his eyes scan the shifting sea of bodies for you, balling a hand up into a fist while he forces himself to save face as not to alarm his fans to his frazzled, irritated internal state.

✧ This is where more of his webbing comes into play (this is a headcanon that's been mentioned by a few other writers, and I'm inclined to agree that he'd do it). You know those parents who put their kids on a leash? Yeah, he does that with you. But instead of a leash, he has a thread attached to some part of your person to keep track of you at his Clown Pageants or other shows. It's something usually saved for when the choker around your neck and the bracelets around your wrists aren't enough. This is for scenarios when he needs to find you. When there's a potential of you becoming lost. He also likes the power of being able to pull you back over to him if he feels like you're taking too long on returning back to his side or if he feels that you've wondered too far from him. It annoys you to no end, especially considering that last time you had allowed him to attach his web to you and he had grown impatient with you quickly. You had been in the midst of ordering a funnel cake from the built-in concession stand, and apparently, you had taken just a minute too long because before you could even get your hands on the food, you were being tugged by the waist and dragged through the hallway and the crowd until you were returned back to your place on his web. It was humiliating and stupid, but you had been able to form a simple way to communicate with each other through tugging at the thread. Like one pull indicated that you were leaving for something to eat, two was a bathroom break, and three was a silent way of saying "hold on, give me a minute." He'd learned to be a little bit more patient with the addition. But the best that you'd gotten him to reciprocate is with an insistent, set of tugs on your thread that easily let you know that he's impatient and teetering on the edge of his self-restraint while he waits for you to come back. He's getting better though. Sort of.

✧ It's already been stated, Mammon is awfully possessive over you. Most likely something to do with being the incarnation of Greed, but Mammon doesn't share. The very idea of it will have his mood declining; electricity sparking around his body, cracking and snapping across the atmosphere in flashes of burning neon. He'll get scathing and mocking with anyone who he feels is a threat to your relationship, regardless of gender. If he gets the impression that there's even the possibility of them moving your attention from him and onto them, then they're already on the fast track to his blacklist. At best he may just insult and belittle them. That's the absolute best-case scenario. Mammon's made plenty of bodies disappear in his lifetime and he has absolutely no problems with adding another one to that list.

✧ He's very touchy. He's always in contact with you in some way, at all times, which circles back to the webbing and how he's keen on holding you against his body. It translates to when he's speaking to you as well. Such as nudging your chin with his fingertips to direct you attention onto him; cupping your face with a pair of his hands; pulling you towards him by your waist and arms; lifting you up to move or sit you onto chairs or places that are more convenient for him. It kind of goes hand in hand with how he uses his height to intimidate other demons. Nine times out of ten, he's one of the tallest, if not the tallest person in the room, and so his size is one of his go to means to frighten others, and crowding past their personal boundaries is just another way to force his presence over them. He doesn't do it to scare you, but it's become such an instinctual thing for him that he doesn't even second guess it. It's fully in his nature to do it. It runs along that vein of his greed; the entitlement he feels to other demon's personal space.

✧ He knows how his presence affects you. How that magnetic thrum that always seems to be pulsing around him like a soft electrical current, prickling at your skin always sends a shiver down your spine. He's aware of how much you like his scent, too. Those warm notes like leather, full with that particular type of musk that wafts from dollar bills, buttery and soft like linen. But he knows that it's his voice in particular that's your favorite. That you especially love the accented lilt that cradles each and every word that comes out of his mouth. It's a particular weakness in your armor that he exploits shamelessly. He knows that all he has to do is dip his voice down into that low coo, all soft with a subtle rumble and you're as good as his. It was a vulnerability that you had tried to hide in the beginning of your relationship, but Mammon being Mammon had noticed your fondness for his voice pretty early on. Mostly because you were absolutely horrid at hiding your affection for his accent. You'd have to physically force yourself from practically melting underneath the sound of that pleasant yet scratchy cadence, pulling your focus onto literally anything else to try and keep from turning into a pile of mush. . . or bursting into laughter. The way that he breaks into a loud string of swears and casual insults never fails to amuse you. Particularly the way that he stresses the word "fuck" so aggressively. Especially the "u" vowel until it almost sounds close to an "a" pronunciation; you have an awful soft spot for it.

✧ He uses his voice and his eyes to get out of everything. He can be extremely expressive, and if he's done something to anger or irritate you, he will try and use his big eyes to weasel his way back into your good graces. Believe it or not, he's very good at pulling the wounded puppy dog look when he wants to, but you're proud to say that you have gotten better at resisting the adorably pathetic faces he's able to make. Much to his chagrin. He absolutely hates it when you give him the silent treatment, and you try to use it is a kind of last resort. You'd much rather try to have a mature conversation with Mammon and sort out whatever is causing a rift or disagreement between the both of you. But sometimes when it comes to dating someone as egotistical as him, juvenile methods are the only tactic that prove to get through to him. He practically goes through the five stages of grief whenever you ignore him.

The first being denial: He'll scoff when he realizes that you aren't speaking to him. Almost more amused than he is annoyed. "Are you really going quiet on me? Psshh, whatever. You'll be back to talkin' my fucking ear off in few minutes anyway. You know you can't ignore me for long."

Anger: Once it finally sinks in that you aren't going to speak to him, he become visibly agitated. His face will twist up into a combination of a pout and a sneer, and he'll start grumbling to himself, huffing swears and complaints under his breath as you go about your day like he doesn't even exist, before his rambling dips into full blown rants. It gets even worse if you chose to leave the house - especially without telling him. That might just be the ultimate insult. He'll pretend that it doesn't bother him at all. That he hardly notices your absence or the fact that you were able to just leave without so much as a backward glance in his direction. It's fine. He doesn't need you. You're the one who needs him. So, when you don't even so much as send him a text or give him a phone call while you're out and ignoring him it has his mood plummeting down into something burning and suffocating.

When you come home from being out, either after hanging out with friends or just having a quiet solo night out on the town, he's on you in an instant, crowding into your space with those bright green sparks pulsing around him in a seething magnetic flare. "I don't even have to have you here. You've been gettin' real fuckin' cocky lately, acting like I couldn't find ten other bitches just like you. I could have you replaced in the blink of an eye, and it wouldn't bother me the fucking slightest."

It's something that should send you running for the hills, or at the very least, get under your skin. But his little tantrums never do. It's just his way of trying to get a rise out of you. To make you just as angry as he is so that you'll break and shout at him; cuss him out to get back at him. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of doing that. You always just level him with a collected stare instead, with a challenge glinting in your eyes. A wordless, "I dare you to."

He never does.

Bargaining: This is when the exasperation settles in, though with his inflated sense of pride it usually takes him a bit to get here. But once he finally does, his first instinct is to try and bribe his way back into your good graces. Mammon is very unused to concept of actually having to work for something. His sense of entitlement is as vast as the Seven Rings combined, and the idea of having to make an effort for anything is such a foreign concept. He's so used to getting his way because of his status alone, so whenever you fail to give into his sway it always leaves him a little bit baffled. He tries to tempt you with gifts and dates, and whenever you refuse the proposals, it leaves him utterly lost and infuriated.

"C'mon. How's about we go to that restaurant ya like so much? "

"You know, that movie you wanted to see is playing tonight. I could kick everyone out the entire theater if you want. How's that sound? Just you an' me with no one to bother us."

"You seriously can't still be ignoring me. This shit's gettin old. Let's just put it behind us, yeah?"

Depression: There will become a change in his physical demeanor once the defeat settles in. Not enough to tip off anyone who doesn't know him well enough. To the untrained eye he's still his usual self. Still just as cheerful and brazen as ever, with his sarcasm and ego just as unaffected as it always is. But even then, you're always able to notice the tension in his shoulders. How the corners of his sharp grin seem just a bit too tight, like he's forcing it on. Whenever he's out of the eye of the public, the fractures in his jovial facade really crumble. Even when he's trying to keep his composure around you, stubbornly trying to pretend that your silence really hasn't affected him. He gets genuinely mopey like this, and the wounded puppy dog expression pulled at his features is actually real this time. But he'll still deny that the heavy frown on his face isn't because of you; he just doesn't feel like smiling, that's all. The irritated way that he's been snapping at everyone as of late; he just woke in a bad mood for an entirely different reason. He's not upset over you, don't flatter yourself.

Acceptance: Mammon doesn't come to a point of acceptance, per say. He'll never admit "defeat" or apologize for whatever it is that he's done wrong. You're pretty sure that Mammon would combust into a roaring billow of flames and ash before the words "I'm sorry" ever make it past his lips. And when he does apologize, it's done so subtly and in a physical manner, usually with him scooping you up and clutching you to his chest until all of those fuzzy, warm feelings build up within you and drown you from the inside out until you find yourself instinctively reciprocating. Or he'll try another route, such as making you laugh. He is a performer if nothing else, and he knows your sense of humor very well. He'll try to be subtle about it first, mumbling jokes to himself in a way that comes across as organic, like he's ranting to himself about his day while you happen to be in the same room or within the nearby vicinity; close enough to overhear him. He'll try anything, regardless of what type of humor you have. Dark humor, lighthearted jokes, puns, physical comedy, whatever you're suspectable to, he'll get you to crack eventually.

It's either that, or eventually you'll be the one to give in first. Only able to ignore Mammon for so long before you sucked into your affections and endearment and then you're the one seeking him out.

✧ He throws parties. All the time. And every single one of them honors him in some type of fashion. He had two separate celebrations for his birthday, twice in a single year. The dates were entirely made up, neither of them lining up with day that he was actually created, but no one so much as batted an eye. There are exclusive parties thrown after his Clown Pageants and concerts. The price of admission is astronomically high, which kills you inside because he doesn't even pay for these events, he has benefactors do it for him. They pay a pretty penny for these parties too, with Mammon hiring contortionists, and fire breathers, and they're always lavishly decorated. But you can't complain too much about it because your birthdays are always insane. Each year is a different theme, and the furnishings and ornaments alone would take ten lifetimes for you to be able to afford.

✧ He has several different costumes that he wears for a variety of occasions. One of his most exuberant outfits has to be the one constructed from gold silk. The material is tapestried and what must be thousands of coins threaded into the fabric that chime and jingle with even the slightest movements. How he manages to move around underneath the weight of all that gold is a mystery. But your favorite costume of his has to be the one fashioned from all of the currency in the human world; various and authentic bills that are layered up on top of each other in a variety of colors. From green to purple and orange. It's as gaudy as it is beautiful, but you mostly like it because it makes him look like a rainbow piñata. He's even had similar outfits made for you, so that you'll match. They aren't as loud or opulent as his are, but that works just fine for you.

✧ His shame knows no limits. He actually had a fundraiser before, for people to donate to him so that he could become richer than he already is. He had even lamented about it in a video online, sharing with the masses that it had been an aspiration of his ever since he was young. That if each one of them donated a single dollar, that he could reach his dream. Honestly, you could hardly even blame him for it because demons had actually donated.

✧ If there's a snack that you're saving for later, you might as well as expect it to be gone. Nothing is sacred for Mammon, so if he finds your leftovers or a little treat that you've been saving for yourself in the fridge or in the kitchen cabinets, there's 99% chance it's going to be gone by the time you come back for it. You had learned this the hard way when you had walked into the kitchen one night, eager to finish up on some of your favorite candy after a long, exhausting day. When you crossed the threshold, the sight that greeted you had you freezing still. There was Mammon, standing in at the kitchen counter with a familiar bag clutched in one of his hands, cheeks swollen around a big mouthful. His vision was already locked onto you, but he didn't appear to be worried or guilty that he had been caught in the act. His green eyes swept over you, fully relaxed and unbothered before he tilted his head back to pour the remaining scraps from the bag into his mouth, swallowing it down in a single gulp.

"What?" He asked dumbly.

The only response he had gotten was you ripping off one of your shoes and hurtling it at him full force.

You now know to hide all of your meals and snacks from him. But on the flip side, he gets irritated and upset if you happen to do the same thing to him and eat his junk food. Cue an angry tirade about how you're selfish and don't care about hurting his feelings. He'll glare at you with betrayal and outrage if you eat off of his plate or steal a fry from his meal whenever you go out to eat. If looks could kill, you would have doubled over and died from the searing heat glinting in his eyes a long time ago. Does it stop you from doing it? No.

✧ He's a bed hog too. When he sleeps, he spreads all six of his limps out like a starfish, covering up nearly every square inch of space with his body. In the very beginning of your relationship, when everything was still new and a little uncertain, you would curl up at the edge of the bed. And the "very beginning" means the first two days. Your patience was quick to go out of the window. You would try to shove him away from you to make room for yourself, but once Mammon fully passes out, he's virtually dead weight. And he won't budge no matter how much you try and get him to shuffle over. Now you just sleep on top of him instead. Not that you can complain about it much. With the feel of him underneath you, sturdy but soft, surrounded by the scent of him and the subtle chill of his body, it usually has you passed out in a matter of seconds. This has a tendency to backfire because whenever you wake up in the morning, he has each arm securely wrapped around your body with his hands gripped onto your clothes like you're some kind of teddy bear. It's impossible to escape from his grip when he's like this and waking him up is a feat all in its own. Fizz once suggested waking up the Sin by airhorn, claiming that it worked for him. You had seriously thought about it, but knowing your luck Mammon would probably strangle you in his sleep if you did that.

Oh, yeah, he snores and drools in his sleep too. He also talks every once in a while, as well. "Talk" is generous. He kind of rants in his sleep. You're privy to a lot of gossip and drama because of this little habit of his.

✧ He uses you as a kind of stress ball. Especially whenever he's carrying you around. You'll find him squeezing various parts of you throughout the day, such as your cheeks, your ass, your chest, regardless of their size, he'll be palming them at some point. It's mostly absentminded, like it's some kind of involuntary urge that he has, and the more stressed he is, the more he'll do it. But he does it on purpose as well. You can always tell when it is based on that mischievous glint he gets in his eyes. You can't hold it against him all that much though, you do the same thing to him plenty. He always pretends to be annoyed whenever you return the gesture by pinching at the swell of his face or groping his chest, but he leans into the attention. Melting underneath the warmth of your palms like a big house cat.

✧ He isn't the best at picking up gifts and presents. Mostly because whenever he's out with the intent to pick something up for you, such as for your birthday or a holiday or anniversary, he immediately gets sidetracked with things that he'd like to buy for himself. He usually comes home with both pairs of his arms weighed down by bags and boxes and there's a good chance that less than half of them is even meant for you. He's absolute trash when it comes to finding things that you'd actually like. He'll spend a good five minutes squinting down at a set of shoes wondering if you'll like them (even if you have a similar pair for reference) before he eventually calls it quits and just throws them in the cart anyway. If you don't like it, then you can just get them replaced or swap them out. But he does try in his own way.

✧ A lot of talk circulates around Hell in regard to the Sin's. Anything and everything are discussed. From their personal lives to the clothes they wear, who they associate with and what they had for dinner. It's all under scrutiny from the eye of the masses. So when it was discovered that the King of Green of all demons was in a relationship, it was under evaluation for weeks. No one would have ever guessed that Mammon would ever be the type to find a lover. You had been called a variety of different terms, from a social climber, a gold digger, a prostitute. They were all wondering how royalty managed to fall for someone like you. For a while it didn't bother you. You expected it honestly, but after hearing the same harsh criticisms and gossip day after day, it starts to weigh heavy. You had vented to Mammon, confessed how you worried that you weren't enough, that all of their talk and judgement was starting to crack around the edges.

He cupped your face in both of his palms, directing your attention on him with a hold that was surprisingly gentle. It grounded you, centered you enough to pull you through the restless emotions and worry spiraling around your mind. The softness in his gaze was just as shocking, rare enough to leave you speechless. "Don't pay those bastards any mind, " he assured you, sweeping his thumbs across the jut of your cheekbones as he drew you closer to him with the tug of his other arms. "I only take the best. They're a useless band of losers anyway, so they can go fuck themselves. You're better than them."

It wasn't the most eloquent reassurance you've gotten in your life, but coming from Mammon, it made your body burn with a calming, tender warmth. He was right. You didn't need them or their opinions. They didn't matter. And they never would. Not when you have him.

#helluva boss mammon x reader #mammon hb x reader #hb mammon x reader #mammon hb #mammon helluva boss #helluva boss mammon #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x y/n

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yaekiss · 11 months

Note

on this sinful sunday, i’m having very holy thoughts of either branding or carving my name onto childe’s skin— maybe that tummy he’s so insistent on not covering up, maybe a nice little tramp stamp. i know he’s making sure it scars, picking at the scabs and whining for you to redo them if they dare to fade away— he belongs to you!

꩜ Room Content: Dom! GN! Top! Reader x Sub! Bottom! Yan! Tartaglia, reader's dick can also be read as strap, gore + eroguro, knifeplay + blood, masochist Tartaglia, spanking (just once, on Tartaglia), terrible wound care by Tartaglia please don't follow his actions, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ A/N: Happy Whore Wednesday pulpie! Or uhhh, it was Wednesday when I started writing this. Got a lil carried away hehe :3 Happy Thotaglia Thursday! Slut on! (With you, Childe feels like every day is Thotaglia Thursday)

Anyways. Childe thinks of you as pure divinity, the holiest of beings, and he’s eager to worship all of you and bear everything that you’re willing to bless him with. Who is he to say no to the pain you inflict on him too?

This time, he’s cockwarming you, the heat and desire he feels is dizzying. You’re inside him and just the sensation of you filling him up perfectly has left him giddy with lust. His face is smushed into the mattress with his azure eyes already rolled into their sockets. Prior to this, he pressed a lavishly decorated dagger into your palm with a fervent sort of urgency, begging for you to mark him up however you like. You try to think back on what could’ve spurred this on. Was it that merchant trying to chat you up at the market the other day? Or perhaps it’s just a sick kind of longing that hangs around the ginger no matter how much time you spend together? One thing remains clear, at its core, Childe wants to be utterly and irrefutably yours.

Taking up the dagger, you admire the inlaid gemstones glinting in the lighting of the room, their colours matching the exact shade of your eyes and you’re sure that this must have cost an arm and a leg. Tracing the cold metal down the ridge of his spine, you feel him shudder, your ears picking up a soft keening whine. You start off slow, the tip of the blade breaking past skin and revealing glorious liquid crimson. Childe sucks in a breath at the delirious buzz of pain and pleasure that he’s subjected to at your hands.

“Nghh… please I wanttt-! to be yours!” Greedy as always.

You take your time carving out your name into his flesh, revelling in just how many moans and whines you can wring out from the harbinger. Despite how muddled his senses are, he’s acutely aware of each and every searing twist and pull of the knife. Some of the warm blood trickles and drips down to where the two of you are connected and the sensation has him losing the ability to speak, brain reeling at how disgustingly intimate this whole act is. However, over time, Childe gets squirmy and twitchy with how pent-up he’s getting, the arousal in him pooling and heightening. That simply won’t do. Good boys need to stay in line while their lover is being so so so nice to them after all. With a pointed “tsk”, you land a hard smack on his ass as a warning. He yelps loudly at the impact but he gets the message, obediently staying still as you finish carving the tramp stamp.

When you’re finally done, you pull out of him, the lack of your cock filling him up has Childe whining again but it snaps him out of his reverie. You reach over to grab a mirror and angle it so that he can see (read: marvel at) your handiwork. His eyes glint as he catches sight of the fresh cuts, the wound spelling out your name and the fact that you’ve claimed him as your devoted believer. However, he doesn’t let you go further than cleaning and disinfecting the wound site. (Secretly, he hopes that it leaves a permanent scar, an eternal pure white etched into his skin to show that he belongs to you without question.)

Throughout the whole healing process, he picks away at the scabs that try to cover the wound, opening it back up again so that your name is written in a carnal raw red. Whenever he stares at it in the bathroom mirror for too long and thinks that a certain part of it is fading away too fast without leaving a mark, he rushes to you, whining and begging for you to redo it with a frenzied tone in his voice.

He wishes you’ll dig even deeper, maybe even push your fingers into his flesh until he’s screaming and clenching down on your cock, use his blood as lube as you fuck up into him relentlessly. The thoughts keep coming and you can’t go a full week without Childe pleading for you to lay your claim on him.

Maybe next time he’ll convince you to leave your mark on his abdomen so that everyone can see who he belongs to.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

#📜.qi rambles #yandere #gore #eroguro #yandere genshin #genshin smut #sub genshin #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia #tartaglia smut #sub tartaglia #childe x reader #yandere childe #childe smut #sub childe #dom reader #📜.qi writings

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all-mirth-no-matter · 4 months

Text

Time After Time | Chapter Fourteen

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: Startling revelations ensue after drinking the tea. While you wait for Tommy to return, Benji comes in search for another date. Ada takes you shopping for a new dress to wear to the races.

Warning: language, slight supernatural (kinda?), harassment (not anything explicit but not fun), less tommy in this one but promise next chapter will make up for it!

ao3 link | catch up on tumblr here

Chapter 14: Raise Hell

I found myself an omen, and I tattooed on a sign. I set my mind to wandering, and I walk a broken line. You have a mind to keep me quiet, and although you can try. Better men have hit their knees, and bigger men have died.

It came upon a lightning strike, and eyes of bright clear blue. I took that tie from around my neck, and gave my heart to you. I sent my love across the sea, and though I didn’t cry. That voice will haunt my every dream, until the day I die.

— Raise Hell, Brandi Carlile

The tea cup landed on the rug with a soft thud, the hot liquid spilling at your feet — though you couldn’t feel a degree of it.

Your mouth gapped open at the sight before you — your mother, sitting on the rug across from you, her legs crossed same as yours, as she smiled at you.

“This isn’t real,” you whispered, still too surprised to move, your heart racing.

Your eyes searched over your mother’s features, looking for some hint of something fake to indicate the trick that was being played here.

But there was your mother — as plain as day. There was no otherworldly glow or translucent quality. She looked solid, wearing the same kind of modern shirt and jeans that she would have been wearing back when she was alive, looking very out of place against the 20th century backdrop.

The only difference between the person in front of you and the memory of your mother was the smile on her face.

“Real is quite relative, don’t you think, Y/N?”

Her voice sounded the same as well, if not maybe stronger than it had in her last handful of years.

Instinct to combat your mother reared its ugly head as you scoffed and responded involuntarily, “Quite relative to whether I’m hallucinating or dreaming, sure.”

Your mother chuckled, “I’ve missed you, my darling. We have so much to talk about.”

Swallowing, you accepted that whether dream, hallucination, ghost, or indeed real, you’d done this for a reason. You’d been given this opportunity by the Delphi for a reason. It was now or never, and you couldn’t let a little thing like freaking out over talking to your dead mother stand in your way.

“Do you know what’s happened to me?” you asked, feeling yourself sit up a little straighter.

Her smile fell, eyes moving around the bedroom before landing back on you, running down the clothes you were wearing. “The curse. It finally came for you, too.”

“Too? Are you saying—“

“Yes. I too was pulled from my present and into the past. As was my mother, and her mother, and her mother before that.”

You couldn’t believe it. Of all the things you had expected, this hadn’t even crossed your mind. “How far back?” you wondered aloud.

She shrugged, “Centuries, I suppose. All the first born daughters of this cursed lineage. Cursed to know the future, because it’s our past.”

So that was the schtick, you realized. You couldn’t predict the future, but you could recall it from a past that hadn’t happened yet — as long as you’d been paying attention. Your mother’s insistence of learning history now made more sense.

And yet, there was still a big question, one you asked aloud, “Why?”

“I don’t know. That is still a mystery.” Your mother dropped her head slightly out of shame, “Even in death, I’m still searching for answers.”

I curse you, Cassandra! The voice from your dreams echoed through your head and a crazy realization hit you. “Who was the first?”

Your mother swallowed. “When you were born, I saw a vision of my daughter. A woman who would know the future, just like I did. I heard the whisper of a name. It should have been a warning, but I was under a lot of drugs and hormones and thought the name was pretty. So did your father. We already had your first name picked out so on the spot agreed to name you Cassandra. I had no idea it was the name of our matriarch — of the first to be cursed.”

“So it’s true, we come from the original Cassandra of Troy?” Your mother nodded and you shook your head. “But that doesn’t make any sense. Say the stories are true — say the Greek Gods really existed — she could actually tell the future and she’s from the ancient past.”

“Another mystery.”

You huffed, so sick of the ambiguity.

“I’m sorry,” your mother said softly, causing you to meet her eyes again. “For lying to you all those years, for confusing you. For causing you grief and madness.”

You felt a lump in your throat, your chest tight at hearing the acknowledgment you’d wished for your whole childhood. Your brain wanted to comfort her, tell her it was alright, but your heart was more wounded than you’d ever realized.

You swallowed down the rise of tears that were threatening to build and changed the subject. “When were you born?”

She blinked, aware of your deflection method, and answered. “The early 2020s.”

“But that’s so—“

“Close?” your mother sighed. “Yes. I grew up blissful — my mother never mentioned her own displacement. So when I was stripped from my loved ones in 2040 to 1990, I was distraught. I was lucky to meet your father, though regretfully I was never able to open myself up completely to him, still mourning the loss of my first love. I would jump from fits of madness to total denial. After we had you, I thought things would be different. But as you grew, I became more suspicious that you would also be stripped away from me, or I you, and the fear drove me mad. So I tried to prepare you. But the closer I got to my own birth date, the madder I became and more desperate for answers I grew. Eventually, I became convinced that I’d made the whole thing up. The line between reality and delusion became nonexistent.”

You felt the tears begin to pool again as you thought about your own struggles with reality since arriving here. Madam Despoina had told you that you were stronger than your mother. But that wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

“I’m sorry for your father, as well,” she went on. You opened your mouth to protest, but she stopped you. “I was able to warn him about certain events — terrorism, the housing bubble, natural disasters — but I couldn’t save him, not in the end.”

“Did you ever tell him? Properly, that is?” You found yourself asking, thinking about Tommy.

Your mother shook her head. “Not directly. The best I could come up with was the gift of prophecy. After a while of telling that story, a part of me began to believe it. Believe it for you.”

“I’m sorry,” you found yourself saying, “for being so hard on you. I didn’t understand—“

“And now you do,” she said with a soft smile, “more now than ever. And unfortunately, darling, I’m going to have to put pressure on you one final time.”

“What do you mean?”

“The curse — it must be broken. You have to find a way to break it.”

“Me? Why—“ your words stopped as you thought about Madam Despoina’s prophecy. “‘You have a chance to mend ancient mistakes. Break the cursed chain, end the line of travel.’ A woman from the Delphi family who said she was a descendent of the Pythia told me that.”

She smiled knowingly again, “Your tattoo, ya?”

Your mouth dropped slightly, “You knew?”

“I have the same one. I had the same impulse before I was pulled away. I didn’t even know you had it until I—“ she cut herself off, looking somber again before clearing her throat. “It’s the tree of knowledge, of balance. But how were you able to find them?”

“I’ve met some people since arriving here. A Romani family that I’ve grown quite close to. One of the brothers specifically, he— he helped me find them.”

Your mother hummed as she listened, her eyes moving again to the space around you. “What year is this exactly?”

“January 1919.” Your mother’s eyes widened. “I’ve been here a few months now.”

“And I thought fifty years was a shock,” she murmured. “Remarkable. Although the interwar period has it’s merits I suppose. Roaring 20s, jazz, rise of automotives, electricity, women’s suffrage. Though suppose it also has it’s negatives: Great Depression, prohibition, facisism, gangsters—“ You must have had a reaction, because your mother paused. “This man, is he a nice man?”

You swallowed at that, your eyes shifting. “I think he wants to be. But the circumstances are a little more complicated.”

“Complicated like organized crime complicated?” She retorted, and you were surprised at her humor in the situation. “Oh sweetheart, you didn’t—“

You scrunched your face, “I didn’t mean to. There’s been odd coincidences between us since even before we met. I had a vision of him the night I woke up here. He had one of me as well. And then there’s the other dreams—“

“What dreams?”

You took a deep breath, feeling once again like you were in a room filled with puzzle pieces trying to figure out which was the right piece to pick up and share with your mother. “I’ve had dreams. Very real feeling dreams of myself as Cassandra in ancient Troy. They’ve just been pieces though, it still feels incomplete.”

“You’ve got a strong connection to her,” your mother mused. “There has to be something in those dreams, that story, that can help you?”

Shifting in your place, she rose her brow at you. A wave of nostalgia hit you as you recalled the look many times from your childhood. She knew you had more.

“The Delphi woman, Madam Despoina, she— she called him Apollo. It’s his face I see in my dreams when I, as Cassandra, am with him, as Apollo. But I— I don’t know what that means.”

Her eyes narrowed as the muscle in her cheek flinched, “And does he mean something to you?”

Her question caused your brow to furrow. “What does that have to do with this?”

“Mother’s intuition, I suppose,” she smiled. “It’s been good to see you, my darling.”

“What do you—“

You blinked.

She was gone.

——-

You woke up the next morning on the cold floor of your apartment, the empty tea cup still laying on the rug.

“Mum!” you exclaimed with a jolt upward, looking to the spot in front of you.

But of course, no one was there. You were as alone in your apartment as you’d been when you arrived last night.

You reached for the tea cup and knew that it didn’t matter. Yesterday you might have tried to argue with yourself that you’d simply been dreaming or hallucinating, but the time for denial was over.

Whatever this stuff had been that Madam Despoina gave you had given you the ability to talk with your mother last night.

As you got ready for your shift at the Garrison, you tried to go through everything your mother had said to you, trying to commit it to memory, afraid that any little bit of it could slip away.

You were going through it for about the twentieth time when a patron cleared his throat at the bar.

“Apologies, I was—“ you turned and your customer service smile fell, “Oh, Benji, hello.”

“I was just coming by to see when you were available next,” he said, offering you his most handsome smile. “No deaths or births or any other excuses this time, eh?”

Your brow lifted, finding that statement slightly rude. It’s not as if you’d blown him off for a headache or something minor — someone had died.

But you knew what you had to do. Benji had been nothing but nice, if not a little forward, with you since you’d meet. It’d been wrong of you to accept his invitation when you were feeling alone and rejected. You couldn’t allow him to continue to believe he had a shot, but there was no reason to be rude about it.

“I’ve been thinking about that, Benji, and I just— I don’t think it’s such a great idea.” His smile slowly began to fall as you talked, his brow creasing. “I shouldn’t have accepted in the first place,” you continued, feeling awkward and guilty.

“Come on, love, you haven’t even given me a chance,” he tried to defend, pulling another smile on his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I wasn’t ready to start anything. I’m still— I’m still adjusting and I—“

“Hmm,” Benji shoved his fists in his pocket. “And this wouldn’t have anything to do with the rumors going around of you and Tommy, would it?”

Your mouth opened slightly at the allegation, but you couldn’t form any kind of defense. Instead you crossed your arms, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Liar,” he hissed, slamming his fist to the bar top. The handful of patrons in the pub looked toward them, curious by the commotion. Benji noticed the eyes and cleared his throat, lowering his voice as he lifted his finger. “You’re making a big mistake, Y/N. Tommy-boy can’t sit on the throne forever, I’ll make sure of that.”

He gave you a wicked smile as he turned and left the pub, slamming the door on his way out.

You contemplated whether you should tell anyone about your interaction with Benji. Unsure if his threats were real or brought on simply by rejection and jealously, you decided to stay quiet for now.

Things had been quiet for a few days afterwards, but slowly you began to notice some major irregularities in the books. Benji’s numbers were showing signs of stealing again. It started off small, similar to what it’d been when you originally became suspicious of him. But now it was quite obvious.

Finally, you came to the conclusion that you had no choice but to bring this to Polly’s attention. It was early in the morning before the shop opened. Polly was helping with John’s kids while Ada was MIA (though if you were a betting woman, you’d say she was with Freddie), and you found yourself sitting alone at the kitchen table, book open in front of you as you felt weirdly conflicted over Benji’s malfeasance.

In the past, you hadn’t been aware of what happened to the people you reported. But now, you knew that there were physical repercussions for stealing from the Shelbys, even as extreme as death. And whether it was guilt for leading him on or some piece of you that still believed that deep down he was a good guy — you began to contemplate whether he deserved a fair warning before you officially reported him. If he knew that he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought he was, that someone was paying attention to him, maybe he’d realize his mistake and end it before something bad happened to him.

You got up to get some tea, trying to think through how exactly you were going to warn him without giving yourself away, when the front door opened.

“How were the kids?” You asked over your shoulder as you poured, assuming Polly had returned.

“Y/N?”

A deeper voice than you expected came from behind you. Spinning around, you were surprised to find the man himself standing in the kitchen doorway.

Your heart rate surged when his eyes moved curiously from you to the table, the open diary and pencil next to it.

“You–” he started, the gears in his head turning to process the scene in front of him. “It’s been you all along.”

“What are you–” you tried to discreetly walk toward the other set of doors, but Benji rounded the table quicker than you, cutting off your escape routes.

What was the saying about good intentions?

“Benji you shouldn’t—“ you tried to lift up your arms between you.

His eyes narrowed and he took a step toward you. Your back hit the counter behind you as he caged you in. “It’s you isn’t it? I kept trying to figure out how it was Lenny and Jackson got stitched. And there you were all along — the little mouse hiding in plain sight.”

“Get off me!” You shouted as you tried to push him away, but he grabbed your arms. You tried to use some of the self defense moves you’d learned, but Benji was stronger than you’d anticipated, and much more sober than the last man you had to fight off of you in the pub. He spun you around and pinned your arms behind your back, pressing his weight onto you so you were pinned even tighter against the shelves and counter. You tried to kick, but he had your legs locked between his.

You were completely defenseless.

“You think you can fuck with me—“

“I wasn’t— I haven’t said anything–,” you gasped out, your face against the shelves as you tried to catch your breath while still struggling to get him off you. You felt the tears begin to fall down your face as you felt helpless.

“And you fucking won’t! You killed my mates. I’m gonna make you wish you’d never met Tommy—“

“Oi!”

Polly’s voice shouting from the doorway finally caused Benji to release you. At the slightly feel of freedom, you pushed him off and ran for the other other end of the kitchen. You grabbed a near empty bottle near you and threw it at him. He ducked as it broke against the wall behind him.

“Out!” Polly shouted, grabbing his arm and pushing him out the door. “And don’t you dare come back!”

Benji was shouting as well, raving that he was a Peaky Blinder dammit, and no one could stop him from getting what he wanted.

He looked back at you as he said that and you shivered.

Sure, you were shaken by being manhandled like that by someone you thought was a good enough man. But more than that, you were angry. This had been the second time since you’d been here that a man thought he could toss you around like you were some kind of doll.

Polly turned back toward you, and immediately got busy pouring you a cup of tea. She let you take your time as you finally launched into explanation. At the end, she calmly rose from her seat and found Scudboat in the betting den, who’d shown up at some point in all your distraction. You watched as she whispered in his ear and then calmly again walked back toward the kitchen. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a small handgun.

“You know how to use this?”

Nodding, she handed it to you and told you to keep it on you from now on.

“Go back to work, Y/N. Benji won’t be bothering you again.”

——-

Polly had been right. Another week went by and you hadn’t seen or heard a peep from Benji. Part of you wondered if the bastard was dead, and you weren’t sure how exactly you felt when you realized that you didn’t really care.

You also wondered if Tommy knew now about what happened with Benji. You hadn’t heard from him since he left again, but knew from Polly and Ada that they’d be back by the following weekend.

In all the excitement, you’d forgotten about Tommy’s invitation to the races. When Ada burst into your apartment to announce that they were going shopping, you’d been surprised. It’d been a while since you’d been to the shops, but you weren’t going to deny the opportunity to find something nice to wear to your first race.

“I’ve been crying nonstop for weeks,” Ada explained as you both walked around, looking at different fabrics as she pointed out some options. “Every little thing sets me off, I tell ya. I thought it was because of the funeral, but Martha and I weren’t really that close. Suppose it’s sympathy for the kids. Dunno. It’s been making me so tired though. I think I may be ill or something.”

“Maybe,” you mused, grabbing the dress she handed you.

A woman caught the corner of your eye. At your gaze, she dropped her head and turned.

You ignored her, used to people staring when she was out with Ada. You hadn’t understood it when you’d first become friends, but now you realized.

When you saw her again at the next shop, you began to feel less like it was accidental.

“Hi,” you greeted when you met her eyes again. She looked away and tried to leave, but you spoke again, “Can I help you?”

The woman stopped finally and turned, her head down slightly sheepishly. She wore a small hat and trendy dress, her hair was cut short like most women of the day, and you could tell she was quite tall, though she seemed to slouch slightly. Her facial features were sharp, complimenting her slim body shape. She was quite beautiful, and in your day could see her being the ideal supermodel. But the bags under her eyes and wornness of her skin led you to believe that her story probably wasn’t that simple. Not here, in Small Heath.

“Pardon?” She finally said innocently, trying to subtly give you a once over as well.

You shrugged, “It just seemed like you were needing something from me. My mistake.”

You turned to leave but she spoke again. “This is incredibly improper of me, but I saw you and I just— you and Tommy, ya?”

As you turned back to her, your brow creased. Instinct had you looking around for Ada. Ever since your encounter with Benji, you’d been edgier than you’d ever been, always looking for the exits and for familiar faces to run toward. It made you feel incredibly vulnerable and you absolutely hated it. You felt your fingers grip the strings of your handbag, knowing the gun Polly had given you was safely tucked away inside.

Swallowing, you resounded yourself to shake it off, to toughen up, and you straightened your shoulders as you addressed the stranger once again. “Excuse me?”

“My sister saw you both walking home often late at night. I suppose he’s moved on, I shouldn’t be surprised.” She was rambling now, her cheeks blushed as if she were embarrassed by her own words. “I know we shouldn’t be speaking of this, not in public at least. It’s just hard, y’know, losing a customer. Especially one like him.”

Customer. You looked over the stranger in front of you again and tried to think of any other instance where her phrasing would make sense aside from the very clear one that came to mind.

Ada called for you, reaching you with a handful of dresses. You turned back to the woman who nodded and made her leave.

“Ada, who was that?”

She craned her neck and clicked her teeth. “Ah, that was Lizzie Stark. Surprised you haven’t seen her around town. Though why would you, less you were payin’ I suppose. Here, try these on.”

——-

It’d been a while since you’d been on a real date. Even before you’d been sent to this place, dates had started to dwindle as you got older and got more choosy. For a while, starting in college, you’d easily been able to flirt with someone new, get to know them, and then start a fling for a while until one or both of you got bored. The couple serious relationships you’d had were harder for you. Being vulnerable hadn’t come easy for you, and it created commitment and trust issues. Dates became more complicated than they were worth.

Tommy had greeted you at your place, and you surprised yourself with how much you missed him in the few weeks he’d been away. There was something about his presence, knowing that he was here, in the city, gave you a wave of some kind of safety and security that you hadn’t realized you’d been missing.

He looked tired, though he smiled at you warmly as he walked you toward the family car, and offered you a hand in as you climbed in.

This had been the first time you’d actually been excited for a date since possibly high school.

And of course, Harry had to go and buzz kill your mood the day before the races. He hadn’t meant to, of course. After the Benji incident, he’d been extra protective and cautious. You’d explained the situation (without the stealing money from the Shelbys part) and he’d been surprisingly sensitive. But he believed his recent pub decision would make you feel better instead of make you sour.

“Somethin’ the matter?” He asked when you were quieter than he expected. “If this is about Hancock—“

“No,” you answered, already knowing from Polly that Tommy and the brothers had learned of Benji’s malfeasance, but he’d disappeared before Scudboat and Lovelock could find him. You’d cursed your previous self for trying to be sympathetic toward the man — it seemed like you’d just made everything worse. “It’s nothing honestly, just something silly.”

“Go on, then. I can handle silly.”

Your cheek flinched as you looked over toward Tommy, humored by him even saying the word ‘silly’. He rose his eye brow as he looked over to you, offering you a smirk before pulling his eyes back to the road.

“Harry’s putting in an advertisement in the paper for another barmaid.”

Tommy’s smirk turned into a frown, “Is he mad? The place wouldn’t be standin’ without you — I’ve seen the numbers, I know. I’ll have a word with Harry—“

“He’s not replacing me,” you quickly corrected. “I thought the same thing, but he wants me to concentrate more on the books and said he’d rather bring someone in part time to fill in behind the bar.”

“Ah,” his brow creased as he gave you a short look. “The problem, then?”

You sighed, knowing that you were being childish. “I’m just feeling territorial, is all. I know I’m not technically being replaced, but part of it feels that way. Did I mention I have a small case of control issues? I blame it on being an only child.”

Tommy chuckled softly and shook his head. “You have nothing to worry about. If anything it’ll leave more time for you to do your real job.”

“My real job?” You asked him curiously.

“The Shelby business, ‘course. Wheels are already in motion, and today we’re going to enact the second part of my plan.”

“And that is?”

Tommy smiled, “Gonna buy a horse.”

>> next chapter << chapter masterlist

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