An idea came to my mind.. So Sinners before the cataclysm x fem reader from brothel.. All separately of course😭
Hroptatyr, Vedrfolnir and Rhinedottir come willingly themselves. At first, it was just for comfort and fun. But then they start coming back and they can't get you out of their heads. In fact, sometimes they started to come just to ask about the situation and talk. They bring you expensive gifts. They know they see you as more than just a pleasure or fun
As for Surtalogi and Rerir.. They definitely did not come willingly. In fact, you did nothing but just talk. Later, they started to come again. For relaxation, for talking, for pleasure.. They don't even realize that they are starting to fall in love with you..
Soo What do you think?? Is this so weird??
ohh, i love this... especially since khaenri'ah was literally on some bullshit pre-cataclysm, i wouldn't be surprised with the society and ruler they had. not proofread, prostitute (y/n) below
hroptatyr is the first one to discover you. a grueling day of dealing with king irmin is bound to leave a headache one simply can't shake off, and despite the amicable smile he always displays to the mad king, hroptatyr tends to leave the palace all wound up. with his position in the royal court, he's privy to sensitive information that the general public can't know about: executions, dealings with snezhnaya, and what he personally seeks out -- brothels. it's filed away in the archives, classified as 'establishments to shut down,' yet no move is ever made, it's just for show. an illusion of care when the frequent clients there are those in a position of power, and hroptatyr is no exception. shedding off the annoying cape he always wears, he has no shame stepping inside and letting his eyes roam free in search of one who catches his eye.
he meets you when you're still a newbie: the main factor that caught his attention in the first place. you stuck out like a sore thumb, posture not quite refined, and eyes darting from the warm, sensual lights to the door leading to the exit. he's not so perverse wherein he intentionally seeks out the newbies every single visit, but there's an allure to you. it's better that he's your first client instead of the more ruthless ones - it's a better form of hell, trust him. and as gratitude, he even leaves you a generous tip.
when you start getting involved with the other sinners, hroptatyr is sharp enough to detect it at the first instance. a golden earring is attributed as rhinedottir's gift - she's been here, touched you like he has. brought you to climax like he has. the overflowing jealousy seeping from his pores is so potent that he had to stop and end his session early, merely promising that he's not mad at you before exiting the brothel. he brings with him a gift on his next visit, accompanied by a frighteningly vulnerable conversation where he asks you if he has a special place in your heart; if he matters to you more than just a client you tend to.
rhinedottir presents herself as the only one whom you can truly trust. majority of your clients are men, as such, rhinedottir is a unique case: a young, brilliant alchemist who's one of the main contributors to the lab-grown produce you buy today. she tends to visit you after making another breakthrough in alchemy, speaking of her accomplishment in great detail while you're busy eating her out. she rarely overstays her welcome, more so after pleasuring her; she uses the rest of her allotted time for conversation. how you've been, what you've been using the money you earn from the brothel for, what you do outside of this job, etcetera. you'd be reluctant to indulge such personal questions had it been anyone else, but rhinedottir is... rhinedottir. you don't see how your answers can be used against you, so you answer with full honesty.
an unconventional friendship forms from then on. you can trust her because you're both women, she knows your plights in a way that your male clients never would. without meaning to, you show her sides of you that exist outside of being a prostitute. you like to pick up this certain hobby on the weekends, you like a certain time of day over the other, even if it's all artificial down here in khaenri'ah. it's... nice, having someone to confide in, despite it being just as transactional as any other client of yours.
rhinedottir has even started bringing gifts: a golden earring where the gold is forged through alchemy, a necklace containing a liquid swirling around a vial, and so and so. while not unfamiliar with gifts from clients, hers feel... intimate. they're special because she created them. but those gifts come with a tall request from her lips:
"leave this brothel. abandon this job and look for another one."
vedrfolnir dreaded the day he would come to care for you as more than the prostitute he sought out on occasion. sharing a house with his little brother, growing up, intercourse is always done in the house of his past lovers to avoid the risk of encountering dainsleif. as he took up the position of royal court prophet, vedrfolnir gave up on lovers in favor of his demanding job. still, the itch of pleasure pricks at his fingertips every now and then so he resorts to brothels, if only so he wouldn't have to bring a random person home. in his first encounter with you, his fingers barely touched the sheer fabric covering your body before he's subjected to an unexpected vision of the future.
he feels it; he lives through it for a brief moment. the warmth in his heart, the joy he experiences from the sound of your voice, and the blue sky towering above you both: you're up on the surface, outside of khaenri'ah before he's transported back to the present. you stare at him in total confusion, waiting until he resumes his ministrations. wetting his lips, vedrfolnir hesitantly continues, mind replaying the brief scenes he witnessed. so you are.... but then he thinks back to the nature of your work, and his once sweet prophecy becomes an unripe fruit. unsure how to proceed, he continues seeking you out, waiting for the inevitable future that awaits him.
it's only a matter of time until envy will be tormenting him from the inside and out.
surtalogi uses you for your body and only your body... at first. it's very simple: knights like him, often subjected to missions and carrying out orders of the king, are frequent visitors to the brothel. you see your co-workers' most demanding clients, and as per prediction, they are always a knight. and surtalogi happens to be the knight who decided you'd be the one to satisfy him until he grows tired of going to brothels. unlike your previous visitors, surtalogi is no-nonsense. he's respectful but he never dips past the customary, "how are you doing today?" before indulging in what he paid for. there's nothing wrong it - it's his money, he paid for your body and time. you doubt he even knows what you look like or what your name is. he tends to shove you face down, preferring no other positions, and comes with a grunt, no name spilling from his lips.
he grows closer to you in the most unexpected way: an awry attack on the brothel leads to him and his small entourage checking up on the workers, ensuring no one is harmed. you're being assured by a no-name knight when surtalogi cuts in, straight to the point, and asked:
"are you alright? i'll walk you home."
he looked at your face for the first time that day. you make idle talk with him on the journey back, and you bid farewell by giving him a hug. rushed sessions are slowed down bit by bit, his rough thrusts now tinged with something you can't quite name. now, after sex, he starts gathering in your arms and just... stares into your eyes until his time is up.
you know he's not the best with words when, on his next visit, he shoved a box of confectionery into your arms before running off.
rerir simply cannot be a client, have sex, and go. he's so quick to fall in love it's humiliating. it's love at first sight; a painful squeezing sensation in his chest when he glimpsed you going inside the brothel, and despite his executioner duty, he couldn't help but follow you, utterly bewitched. without thinking about anything else, he avails your service, and he's genuinely lovesick by the time you got down on your knees to suck him off. left the brothel with your name in his mind on repeat until he fell asleep. finds himself seeking you out the following day and is already established as a regular a week later.
he's humorous to an extent. he tells you he loves you each time he orgasms, kisses your hand as farewell, and gives you flowers imported from the surface in his visits. one would think he's your boyfriend until the bleak reality of you being a prostitute slaps him in the face whenever he sees a previous client exit your room just as he enters. like everyone else, he's jealous. he earns more than enough to sustain you out of that line of work, but that would mean hinting at his own line of work, and he can't have that.
coward that he is, rerir will remain drowning in jealousy all while seeking you out. it'll be a stalemate until something happens that will force him to ruin your amicable client-worker relationship. in his head, however, he likes to think you're dating him.
Summary: Deep in the Chasm, a curious mouse stumbled upon a relic unlike any other. She carefully took it with her, not knowing who lurked within it. So home she went with the relic in hand as a snake followed close behind. While the mouse was resting after the long trip, the snake pounced and ensnared the poor mouse, telling her, 'Help set me free, and I'll tell you your future.'
The curious mouse agreed, captivated by the snake's voice as it led her further and further into its lair. Only there, by the time they reached it, the snake didn't wish to eat the naive mouse no more, for thoughts of courting it plagued his mind.
Oh, whatever shall this tormented snake do with the lovely mouse in its grasp?
Long, long ago, the Chasm used to look much different; it held an ancient city made of jade ruled by a benevolent god of harvest. But now, not even a structure from the grand city could be found on the surface. Rumours told of odd structures far beneath the surface, in the deepest and darkest corners of the Chasms' bowels. Up until a few years ago, even the surface was closed off. Now that some time had passed and the many dangers had been, for the most part, cleared out, certain adventurers and researchers could now go back into its treacherous claws. This is where a group of like-minded individuals found themselves.
The air was thin and corrosive, full of dust and toxic fumes that threatened to block the airways. What little light they had was carried by their torches and lumenstone ores and, of course, by the bioluminescent plants and rocks that grew naturally there. The ruins that towered high above them loomed ominously, threatening to collapse onto them. The group – formed by the adventurers' guild – consisted of skilled adventurers, warriors and researchers, all with the task of uncovering hidden secrets that lay dormant within the barren ground.
Just like the others in her group, (Y/N) found herself in the same situation, bent over a pile of rubble with a trowel and brushes in her hands as a sifter and cleaning rag lay next to her. There were a few finds within the group, mostly broken weapon parts and tattered items belonging to the many hillichurl camps that once seemed to reside near the area. The biggest find was an old water jug excavated a few days prior in another area. Hours turned into days within the dark and desolate caverns. So, just like the others, she continued to dig, brush and chat alongside the group to keep up the morale. Digging deeper, (Y/N) noticed a small, faint glimmer as some dirt shifted from her digging. Getting excited, she carefully began brushing off the dirt and picking at the ground to show more of the artefact. Excruciatingly patient moments later, the relic was unearthed – a beautiful golden necklace depicting a serpent with blue gemstone eyes. Even with the years' worth of dirt and grime, the necklace still looked in good condition; a good bath and treatment would freshen it up in no time.
Hearing her team call for everyone to pack up for the day, (Y/N) quickly wrapped the relic in cloth and placed it in a box with other things she had found. Once everyone rejoined, they made the journey back to one of the base camps. The trek was harder uphill than the initial descent; crumbling pathways and barely-upkept bridges provided little to no stability. One of the scouts came back a few hours into the walk with bad news – the main pathway was blocked by some abyss mages. While the adventurers were skilled at fighting, they weren't on the level to beat multiple abyss mages. (Y/N) listened intently as the adventurers began plotting and pointing at the map.
"Route B is longer but has less chance of running into any enemies, while route C is shorter but has a harder climb than these."
‘Route C will be destroyed by a nearby lawachurl. Take route B.' A saccharine masculine voice echoed in (Y/N)'s head.
"Route B?" (Y/N) whispered as she looked around for who said that.
"Oh, why B?" one of the adventurers asked.
"Oh, um," seeing no one interrupt her, she continued, "none of us are that athletic, so we would take longer and get injured, possibly?"
(Y/N) trailed off as everyone looked at her.
"Sounds reasonable. Is everyone alright with the longer route?" Seeing everyone nod and agree, the adventurers led them to the chosen route.
'Thank you, whatever or whoever you were.'
Throughout the ascent, (Y/N) felt a buzzing in her head, no louder than a distant bee, like something beginning to take root in her head. By the time the group made it to the camp, the humming in her head had begun to cause her a headache. Slumping down onto the ground, she fell against her bag as the exhaustion started throbbing in her muscles. She was right; judging from how exhausted she was and how worn everyone else looked, none of them were that athletic.
"Just a few more days and then I can take a nice soak in the tub," (Y/N) muttered as she lazily opened her bag to search for food and water.
'You should investigate why we can hear each other.' The same voice echoed in her head.
"Right, I should listen to the nice voice in my head and seek a healer or a psychologist." Continuing to mutter to herself, she began to eat her food, just a pack of rations given by the Adventurers Guild.
'Maybe we can help each other.'
"Rest first, psychotic break analysis later."
One would think that hearing a mysterious voice would warrant a bigger reaction, but (Y/N) had studied carefully about the dangers the Chasm could bring: abyssal tainting; death in various ways; treasure hoarders; and, of course, hallucinations.
Several days later, the group had finally resurfaced and was ready to journey back to Liyue Harbour. By now, (Y/N) could not tell if the buzzing in her brain was from the deadly everything in the Chasm, from the exhaustion or from the overstimulation of being trapped in the same few dirty clothes for days on end. The voice occasionally returned to talk to her, not often but just enough to remind her that she should find out what is causing her to hear such things. Oddly enough, the voice only appeared to warn her of dangers around the corner.
Several more days later, everyone had finally made it to the harbour and split their own ways, with (Y/N) making a mad dash to the Wanmin restaurant and slamming down a pouch of money and telling Xianling to deliver something comforting and flavourful to her in a few hours. Once home, (Y/N) left a flurry of clothes, bags and equipment being thrown across the house in a trail leading to the bathroom.
"Now this is what I'm talking about; I have good food on the way, and I'm finally washing away the weeks' worth of filth off of me, and then I'll rest and rest and rest some more." Lounging in the hot, bubbly water, (Y/N) talked to herself as she lathered on a heap of shampoo in her hair. "Hey mysterious voice, you should have a rest day like this, in whatever afterlife you are in… If you're even dead, that is."
Pausing, she waited for the answer, but none came. Thinking that maybe she was finally beginning to lose the hallucinations, she shrugged and continued washing and humming to herself. By the time she was done, she had just enough time to get dressed in the comfiest pyjamas and fluffiest slippers and wrap her hair in a towel before Xianling came knocking at her door with her food. Slinking into the living room, (Y/N) plopped the food down onto the table and went to look through her records to set the atmosphere. Deciding on a track called 'Rhythm from the Conch', (Y/N) sat down and began happily tearing into the food. To her pleasant surprise, Xianling had made some of her favourites—dragon beard noodles with some honey char siu. Running to grab a drink from the fridge, (Y/N) returned and happily dug into the food.
Sighing happily, (Y/N) fell back onto the couch. The food was gone, the record player had played multiple songs by now, and the sun had started to shine honey-coloured cooling rays through the lace curtains in the living room. While lounging around, enjoying the comfort of being able to put her feet up and relax on what seemed like the softest couch ever, her head lolled to the side, and she noticed her adventurer pack and quickly remembered the treasures she had found. Clearing off her table, the researcher grabbed the needed tools to clean and preserve the found relics.
A slow few hours later, she was ready to tackle her best find, having warmed up on the less tricky pieces. Noticing the headache had returned, she stood up to stretch and open the window. The buzzing feeling in her head returned when she messed with the artefacts, further proving her suspicion of the two being linked. It was possible that some of the toxic fumes had seeped into the relics or the dirt residue covering them.
"Well, aren't you a beauty? Whoever lost you must have been devastated; I know I would've been." Running her fingers over the golden scales of the snake, (Y/N) spoke as she watched the light refract over the clearer parts of the surface. The necklace was shaped in the form of a long, thin snake; it was fairly light and flexible, likely meant to be shaped to fit the wearer's neck.
'I would be if I knew what you had found, archaeologist.'
"Oh great, I'm definitely breathing in poison. Glad to have you back, mysterious voice. Where were you?" Wetting a cloth, (Y/N) started to clean the surface thoroughly.
'My best guess is that whatever you're holding was away from you, so we couldn't hear each other. Now what is it you're holding?'
"Oh, it's a serpent-shaped necklace, made of gold and has a blue gemstone, agate maybe, can't tell." Looking closer at the gem, she spoke.
'Ah, that piece, I remember it. You are right; I was quite sad when I lost it, and it's labradorite, not an agate.'
"Sooo, what are you? Vengeful spirit or hallucination, because in both cases I don't want to end up in Lady Hu's services just yet."
'I am a spirit of sorts. Possibly even vengeful to some. But I think we could work something out to mutually benefit us both.'
"Alright, calling Chongyun or Shenhe it is, maybe even Dr Baizhu!"
'Now, now, didn't I help get you home safely? The least you could do is hear me out.' The voice tutted in disappointment.
"Fine, but I won't hesitate to slap a banishing talisman on you if you try anything funny."
'Fantastic, all you have to do is help release me.'
If the spirit had a body, (Y/N) imagined it draping its arms around her and pressing up against her back. "Right, and start the end times possibly? How do I know you aren't an evil spirit waiting to take over the mortal realm?" (Y/N) rolled her eyes as she continued to carefully restore the necklace, despite what the spirit possessing it was saying.
'How very astute of you, but I do see this happening in the future; it is only a matter of which road you take to get there.'
"Alright, so I'm guessing you can see into the future then? Tell me this: how about you prove that you aren't going to kill anyone if I set you free, and then maybe we can discuss this so-called future where I let you roam the planet."
'Making a deal with the likes of me? How curious. You sure are brave; not many can say they have been in your place and lived.'
"You aren't helping your case there, buddy. Hey, you don't feel through the necklace, right?"
'Sadly, I'm limited to just hearing your voice through it. Why do you ask?'
"Oh, no reason, I just didn't want to pour chemicals over it and hear you scream in agony in my head." Placing the necklace into a glass container full of liquid, she let the chemical process happen while she began cleaning up the table. "How close do I have to be to hear you, by the way?"
'I would say up to an arm's length? The further you go, the less connection we have.'
"Oh, so if I get tired of you, I can just leave you somewhere and be free."
'How hurtful, and they called me cruel.'
"Speaking of hurtful, when will the headache leave?" Lying down on the couch, (Y/N) stared at the container.
'Headache? Oh, that is probably caused by the residual abyssal energy lingering on it.'
"I'm sorry, the what?" (Y/N) sprang up, shouting at the necklace. Running away from the couch, she began frantically trying to remember what to do when dealing with abyssal contamination.
"You couldn't have warned me? ‘Oh, I might be a little evil', clearly!" She shouted – none of which was heard by her mysterious spirit. Running back to the table, she slammed her hands on it and shouted at the necklace as if it were going to come alive and help her. "Hey, you asshole with the nice voice, tell me you have a way to fix this, or so help me, I will chuck you so far into the ocean Osial will probably choke on you!"
'So vulgar. Is this how you treat all of your friends? Agree to help me, and I will tell you how to fix your little problem,' he continued, ignoring the archaeologist's colourful insults and comebacks.
"I don't know what you want from me, but sure. Better yet, let's hurry this up so I can smack you to the moon for putting me in this situation!"
'Need I remind you that you picked up the necklace and took it home?' the voice taunted; a smirk was practically audible in his tone. The moon wasn't far enough in her opinion. 'This is an old method, so listen closely.'
***
"So you're sure this charm will work?" She asked, twisting her wrist to look at the bracelet she had crafted. Even though both of their alchemical knowledge was limited, with the right instructions, they were able to weave together a sigil into a bracelet to ward off the abyssal side effects.
'I would believe so. So long as you keep it on you, you should be fine,' the voice reassured. 'Now that you have calmed down, I think we should try to reintroduce ourselves. You may call me Vedrfolnir. Now it's your turn, little researcher.'
"Vedrfolnir, huh?" (Y/N) thought, trying to figure out what nation the name could belong to. "Alright, you may call me (Y/N), and I'm not a little researcher; I'll have you know I have published a paper or two in my life."
'My mistake then. Now, with that out of the way, would you mind listening to my proposal?' Vedrfolnir asked.
"Not like I have much of a choice, so go ahead." Agreeing to his proposition, she let him continue while starting to tidy up the mess their 'little crafting session' had made.
'You see, I'm in quite a bind, to say the least. A long time ago, I was horribly sealed in a chunk of crystal by an evil group just because they didn't like what I saw in their futures. I was so alone in that crystal for so long until you just so happened to stumble upon something that belonged to me. If I don't call that fate, then I don't know what else to call it. So, how about we strike a deal? I give you prophecies of your future, and you help me escape my punishment.' His tone was overly fake, cheerful yet sombre as he spun his tale
Pausing from her chores, she thought about it. It didn't take a genius to hear the absolute lie in his speech. "I mean, you saw me back there; I'm not that good at alchemy or anything magical."
'But you can do something I can't, talk to people and observe.'
"So, I would need to find an alchemist for you?"
'Or learn from them, but yes. See? Simple, not that difficult.'
"And these prophecies you say you can give to me – how do I know they're real?"
'I led you out of the Chasm, didn't I?'
"True…" Finishing the last of the cleaning, she walked to her room and fell onto her bed. "Say, how can you see into the future?"
'A curious little one, aren't you? Very well, alas, it's not a fantasy story from a children's book where I was blessed with it as a gift from the gods. I was simply born with it. Ever since I was young, I have always been riddled with these visions of the future. At first, just mere moments later. Then, over time, I trained it to see further and further into the future.'
(Y/N) picked up on the way he said the word 'Gods' as if the word were a poison he was forced to drink. "You say it's not like a fairy tale, yet there you go saying, 'Oh, I was simply born with it.' What's next? You'll say woodland animals came scurrying to you when you called?"
Vedrfolnir laughed in her mind, the volume of it surprising her as she stared at the window on her side. He had a nice laugh, just as airy and elegant as his voice. If (Y/N) had to guess, she would say he was most likely a noble or at least someone who lived in a prestigious society, if his tone of voice and manner of speaking were anything to go by.
'Ahh, forgive me, I haven't heard such a funny thing in a while. Alas, I was never able to test that out, as the land I am from didn't have many animals that called it home.'
'Maybe he's from the desert then?' (Y/N) thought as her mind drifted to images of how Vedrfolnir and his home could have looked.
"Tell me about it another time, will you? Your home, that is." Failing to stifle a yawn, (Y/N) burrowed under the warm and thick duvet. By now, the moon was high in the sky, having risen hours earlier. The world outside was quiet, with not a soul in sight. The vendors had long since packed their wares; even the millelith had quieted down, choosing to remain at their posts.
"Goodnight, Vedrfolnir."
Vedrfolir stayed quiet for a moment, as he had not expected someone to wish him goodnight. 'Good night, little researcher. May your dreams be blessed with good fortune.'
currently thinking abt: teaching altan how to eat you out (18+)
"Are you sure about this?" You ask, still somewhat worried your boyfriend was just letting your classmates' words get to him.
Altan had overheard his own peers talking about your relationship with him in the communal showers. Something about Do you think Trengsin even knows how to eat somebody out? and Of course not, I'm sad for his girlfriend. You were sure they talked about something way more than that but Altan rather'd not tell you. He still had some pride, of course.
"Yes." Your boyfriend says, quicker than light even.
His cheeks held that flustered red hue on the surface, something you only saw on very specific occasions. Chest heaving. He's been waiting for you the entire week, waiting until it's the weekends to sit you down about it.
He nestles himself in between your legs, calloused hands eagerly trailing at the side of your thighs. He flicks his eyes up, staring into your awaiting ones. Lips laying down soft kisses over your skin.
"I haven't had any… experiences before," Altan begins, diverting his gaze, "but I can learn. I'm a fast learner. An exceptional one, I promise."
You drop your hand to the side of his face, cradling it with a softness he could never get used to. Before you could speak, he beats you to it, tone slightly embarrassed, "I can't promise it'll feel good immediately though. You gotta give me some time, baby."
A soft breath escapes you, chest shaking, "Don't do that," you tell him.
"Do what?"
"Be in between my legs and call me baby." It's your turn to look away, lips slipping in between your teeth as you try to close your legs, though the big blockage that is Altan Trengsin keeps them wide open.
He chuckles. You could feel his breath at your core, through your thick cotton panties, your breath hitching at the thought of his lips on your heat. Your pants were pulled off some time before already, so all he can see now is just one last tiny obstruction before the real thing.
Altan pulls your legs up, bracing you to him in all of your glory. This time, it's him that gets his breath caught. Eyes roving over your clothed center. He licks his lips, instinctively placing a pair of kisses on either side of your inner thighs making you clench on absolutely nothing.
"What do I do first? Tell me." He looks up at you, eyes rounding uncharacteristically so.
"Do what you think is right first," you tell him, voice soft and guiding.
He gives you a smile, nodding his head.
You fully expected him to take off your panties immediately. Hook his fingers at the sides and pull them off without any grand movements, just the mundane way of starting things off.
But this is Altan Trengsin in between your legs now.
Sinegard Academy's golden boy. The student that had every master wanting him to pledge to them. The student who raised every master's expectation on their students.
If he lives to surpass expectations and come out at the very top, you bet that applies to you as well.
So when he suddenly nuzzles his nose into your clothed core, eyes closed, inhaling such a deep breath, exhaling that same breath on the surface of your panties, you were unable to stop your legs from twitching pathetically.
His grip on your thighs tighten. Letting his lips run through your slit, your slick seeping through the fabric. He lets his lips latch onto the fabric, putting out the tip of his tongue to trace the line of your slit, soiling the fabric even more.
Your hands drop to his hair. Altan takes that as a sign to pull away and look at you. His crimson eyes were wide and round, pupils blown out.
"What do I do next?" He asks, voice painfully gruff.
You hoist yourself up on your elbows, chest heaving, lips parted and wet. "Take off my panties. Now. Please."
Like a soldier, he nods. Fingers hooking at the side of your panties, carefully pulling them down your thighs. You help him out by holding your own legs close to your chest, making it easier for him to slip them off your feet.
When he gets the fully off, curious eyes look at the drenched center of your panties. He blinks. Once, twice, before he brings it to his face. Inhaling in your scent in such a deprived way that you feel yourself grow hotter, wetter.
Fuck, you think, He's insane.
He pulls it off his face, "Do I get to keep this?"
"No, obviously. My panties are just enough for a week," you tell him, shaking your head side to side.
"Just don't wear one when we're together then," he gives you a cheeky grin, winking at you. The confidence he'd been missing earlier now making an appearance.
The thought literally has you blushing furiously. Hand coming over your mouth to hide the downright erotic split of your lips, the way your tongue just slips out to lick the dry muscle.
Altan takes your lack of verbal response as a win for him. Positioning his body back down, he keeps his eyes strictly on yours, not letting himself take in the sight of your core. Delaying his own gratification, if you will.
Your eyebrows curl upward, lips frowning, contradicting the downright hungry look on his face.
"What do I do now?" He asks you, again.
He looks hungry but he looks confused at the same time. You can never really tell him.
You swallow your saliva. "Look at me."
"I'm looking at you."
An irritated look comes on your face. One that has Altan chuckling boyishly to himself.
"Look at me, Altan," you try again, wiggling your legs for emphasis.
"I told you, I already am," he answers all the same.
Annoyed, you push your legs apart, revealing yourself for him, "I said look at my cunt."
His eyes darken, jaw tightening as he now tilts his head downwards. The sight before him has his head spinning with delirium.
You're wet. No, not just wet—you were fucking dripping, drenching the thin sheets of his cot, glistening so beautifully for him. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen, anything he'd ever dreamed of.
“What do I do now?” He breathes, mouth apart and ready, voice impatient. He kept his eyes locked on your core, unable to look away.
You don’t answer. Instead, you drop your hand, letting two of your fingers slip through your slit. The pads of your fingers rubbing at the small bundle of nerves, small continuous circles.
“Do you see how wet I am?” You ask, arching your back, letting your tunic bunch near your chest.
Altan nods stiffly. His body moves down even lower until he’s face to face with your cunt. Barely a hair’s width away.
“You’re dripping,” he observes. “Do you feel this way for me?” He looks up at you, memorizing the way your features twitched with each circle of your fingers.
“Yes—for you, all of it,” the heady feeling stirs in your head. Running out of breath as you move your free hand to grab at his hair softly.
“Put your mouth on me. Lick me,” you instruct.
Altan’s control collapses then. He doesn’t just lick you, no, he swallows you whole. Capturing your entire cunt in his mouth, slithering his tongue in between your pussy lips until he reaches your fingers at the top. Then he moves back down, messy, continuous vertical motions that has your gripping his hair tighter. The suppressed squeaks escaping your mouth only fueling him even more.
He’s messy. He’s impatient. He’s running his tongue all over your cunt, tasting any and all you were willing to give him. Loud slurps fill the air, drinking your wetness with the greed of ten men.
He looks at you, watching with such sharp eyes. Testing every surface, trying to find which spot has your lips falling apart weakly.
His eyes shift down to the spot you kept circling, that small pocket at the top of your pussy. He nudges your fingers away with his face, about to explore the area with the tip of his tongue when you press a palm flat onto his forehead.
“Don’t rush it, Altan,” you remind him, relaxing yourself onto your elbows. “We don’t have to rush. You don’t have to prove anything. I feel good… you’re making me feel good.”
A moan from him vibrates against your core, the intensity making your head fall back.
“Teach me more,” he says, pulling away with a glinting sheen over his chin. “I want to please you more.”
Altan Trengsin //Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought//
a.n. from this ask and since it was giving me a free choice and I'm an indecisive person as well, I did both: it's like two parts but they can be read separately. Took me a while but I already saw a lottt of nice asks thanks everyone for the kind messages and the requests💗 anyway I had a lot of fun writing with the happy AU and absolutely loved it, this part is a bit self indulgent in the start but I hope you all can enjoy it too! (oh and I absolutely loved writing Hanelai's character, I think I'm in love)
genre: fluff (Altan Trengsin x jealous!reader)
words: 2.5k
cw: AU! the massacre of Speer and the poppy wars never happened, overthinking, Hanelai is my love, Altan is a bit slow but he get it I swear, probably ooc tho
!!! : english is not my first language so yeah, feel free to give advice and sorry for my mistakes <3
part 2
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The sun was already bright in the sky when you woke up, turning in the sheets only to find the other side of the bed cold.
You let out a sight, Altan had already left.
You were still getting used to life on Speer, after years spent training at the Sinegard Academy, it felt unreal to be finally free to breath. you weren’t constantly competing with others, you didn’t have to fight every day with the fear of getting kicked out, you could just be. And it was terrifying.
It was the first time since you had a memory of, that you woke up without chest heavy from anxiety, without the need of neglecting your needs and aches just for the sake of not being left behind. You were learning to be a person again after being a soldier for so long and it was hard.
Besides, you were alone.
Sometimes you felt overwhelmed, just in need of someone telling you were doing fine, that you weren’t behind, that it was okay to rest and just let it be. But when you woke up you were alone.
You stared at the ceiling, room feeling suddenly too oppressive, sheets suffocating. You had to get up and do something, anything.
The first thought you had was to look for Altan.
Altan Trengsin, the one who brought you here, who gave you a chance to rediscover yourself. You were grateful for what he taught you, in years at school you had always been each other's shoulder to cry on, a safe place for one another and so of course you agreed when he asked you to accompany him back on Speer, and you couldn’t be more happy with your decision. However something was off, you missed him.
You didn’t want to burden him, you never saw him so careless and joyful in five whole years, his eyes were bright with joy, the constant stiffness in his shoulders long gone, as if he let off a heavy weight, it was a relief to admire him like that.
But you missed him.
Not the old gloomy him, who only smiled by your side, with eyes often lost and melancholic, no, not that Altan, you missed the one who was always ready to understand you with a single glance, the one you could always talk with, the one who trusted you, whose warm body hugged you tight and whose lips brushed your forehead, soft and warm, something intimate, and neither of you dared to cross that thrumming line between the two of you.
After a last, deep breath, you walked outside, eyes squeezing for the light as a soft breeze hit you, making you shiver. You were a bit reassured when you realised it wasn’t too late yet, air still cool, not warmed up from the sun, kids still asleep, but adults and teens were earlier at work.
A crystal laugh echoed on the beach and from where you stood you could clearly see the seashore, where a young pair was having fun.
Altan and Kailani.
You took a deep breath, in and out, you closed your eyes shut. It wasn’t jealousy, you had no reason for it, yet it left a bitter taste on your tongue, a gut feeling you couldn’t really place. Altan found his people after years away from them and it was fine. Really fine. He looked happy when they worked together to train young children, when he was teaching what he learned at Sinegard and she sat next to him, eyes wide with interest, when they laughed at dinner time, eyes shining at the candles light, he looked so at peace around her and you were so happy for Altan. So you couldn’t really explain why your eyes started getting wetter, tears threatening to spill out, you hissed, turning away from the joyful pair and heading inland.
Your steps were a mechanical sequence, you weren’t conscious about where you were going, but deep down your mind knew and anyways there was only one place every path led to. So you found yourself strolling immersed in the green, sometimes you met families who were gathering for the day to start, other times you saw children chasing each other, however most of your walk was filled with silence, deep in your thoughts surrounded by calm and peace, a contrast with your mind filled with doubt and whys.
You stopped when you recognised the person you were unknowingly looking for. Hanelai was standing in front of you, before the temple’s entrance, her posture straight and strong, eyes already fixed on you with a knowing look. You admired how fierce she could always act, firm in her position, you had known her for a short time but she already became someone you knew you could trust.
Altan learned so much from her, you thought, a sudden wave of sadness flashing through your bones.
“Good morning darling, what brought you here this early?” Her motherly tone was like a soft caress, you smiled at her, a soft smile that didn’t entirely reach your eyes though.
“I needed space” You shrugged your shoulders, avoiding her inquiring gaze.
“Space?” She remarked, brows raising. “Does this need for space have something to do with my nephew?”
Caught.
You didn’t find it in yourself to answer her question, a bitter smile across your lips and a helpless look was enough of an answer, and even if you had words to describe what was happening, what could you even complain about when you were just… what? Friends? Classmates? Acquaintances? You internally flinched at the possibility of your relationship being reduced to ‘just acquaintances’.
Hanelai sighed, a soft tug in her chest, after years spent watching over the kids on the island like they were her own children, finally it was time to see her Altan struggling with love life, he grew up so much during the years he spent far from home but he was still the little boy she used to know.
“I feel like he’s happier without me.” You bit your tongue, regretting saying that the moment you opened your mouth but it was already too late. It wasn’t because it was a lie but it felt strange being this much straight with Altan’s aunt, even if afterall it was Hanelai you were talking to. On the other hand Hanelai looked resigned; yes, Altan was still like a little boy and he was messing up a bit too much.
“Dear, even if I’ll gladly do so, I can’t speak on my nephew’s behold, but I can tell you one thing for sure, I haven’t seen his eyes shine so brightly with anyone else, trust me on this darling.” She looked so confident, her voice warm and you almost trusted her. Something yet was still painfully stinging in your chest.
“But he seems so happy with Kailani” You cringed at how you sounded like a whining child, yet you couldn’t help yourself after weeks spent bottling up your feelings.
Oh, everything clicked in Hanelai’s mind, so it was about this.
“Whenever you feel ready, talk with him” She stated after a thoughtful silence, her voice soft but stern enough to leave no space for a reply “And be sure I’m not lying when I tell you he lights up with you like he does with no one else.”
The day was still long and you had plenty of time to talk with him. Except you couldn’t do that.
You tried to walk a bit around, finding the strength in yourself to talk to him, but every time you went back and forth on the questions to ask him and you were at a loss, you didn’t know what to ask and how, who were you to him, what did you expect from his answer, you didn’t know.
However, now that you talked with Hanelai there was no turning back, you couldn’t avoid the bitter taste in your gut every time Altan stood close to Kailani, you couldn’t fake a proper smile when talking with the two of them or stopping yourself from running away as soon as possible when you were alone with Altan, not trusting yourself from telling him your feelings.
The worst thing was Hanelai’s gaze, who knew well what was going on in your mind, and every day passing by it felt like you were disappointing her too.
And while you were so caught up in your own overthinking, trying hard to let Altan the space you thought he wanted with Kailani, he noticed. Of course he did.
Altan sensed that something was wrong with you, but he couldn’t understand what. He gave you space at first, maybe you just needed to figure out by yourself the new reality he brought you in,; when he saw you weren’t getting better he tried to include you in his activities, but you always seemed uncomfortable, tense smile on your lips; finally he reached you out to sort things out and you avoided him, no, you actually run from him, and it clicked to him that along the way he missed out something important and he really did mess up something.
It was a warm night, stars bright in the sky, as bonfires lit up the seashore. It was a Speerly festivity, something Altan talked to you about when you were back at Sinegard, at the time he had that dreamy look in his eyes and you were so caught up in his descriptions that you told him you wished to be there with him next time, it was one of the few times you both nearly crossed the line in your relationship, yet nothing really happened.
You remembered that, while you were dancing with some other people you got lost in though, a wave of nostalgia hit you but you didn’t want to ruin the night. Not until you saw him. Altan was having fun, dancing and laughing with a group of people, next to him Kailani.
She was beautiful, long black hair adorned with flowers, tanned skin glowing under the fire light, a bright smile on her lips, she looked so natural there, next to Altan.
You stopped in your dance, eyes on him as you muttered an excuse to leave; your breath caught in your throat when he lifted his gaze on you, your eyes locking for a second before you turned and walked away.
Altan felt at a loss, he looked around, no one seemed to have noticed that exchange, yet he felt like he had to run to you and when he met his aunt stern look he knew he had already lost enough time. He didn’t even bother finding a good reason to leave the celebration, hurrying his steps to follow yours.
It wasn’t much ‘till he found you, sat on a rock while getting lost in the sea rumbling and in your own thoughts.
“Go back Altan, you were having fun.” Your voice came out rougher than expected, yet it didn’t bother you much.
“You weren’t” “I was.” Your voice leaving no space for answers, it was like you really wanted him to go away and Altan knew he missed out something, but he still knew you well enough to know it wasn’t good to leave you with your own thoughts right now.
Not when he knew you were overthinking and it was somehow his fault.
“You’re avoiding me.” You knew he was right but you didn’t want to give it up that easily.
“You seem to have a lot of things to do.” You just shrugged it off, a voice in the back of your mind screaming at you that you were acting childish and to just talk to him.
“Do I?” Altan was getting more and more confused, not understanding what was really bothering you.
“Yes.” You wanted to close the conversation, go to bed and act like nothing happened, like you didn’t feel that pain in your chest every time you see him with her.
“Does she make you that much happier?” You shut your eyes, praying you haven’t said that out loud, you surely haven’t—
“Who?” Altan stepped closer to you, what were you talking about?
“Kailani” You murmured, the name leaving your lips like a secret held in for too long “Like really I’m happy for the two of you, you make a perfect couple”
You turned your head to face him for the first time since you started talking, a sad smile on your lips, but you were met with a completely lost look from Altan, his brows frowned, mouth open in search of anything coherent to say, while his brain was connecting everything.
You make a perfect couple, you said, him and Kailani? He felt so stupid for not noticing before, you asked him if she makes him happier and to him that sounded so weird, because in his eyes it was clear that he couldn’t really be happy without you, and it pained him to know you could even think of him with someone else.
“We’re not a couple.” Altan stated firmly.
“You should, you look made for one another, really you—” His hand on your cheek stopped you mid sentence as you let yourself get lost in his touch for a moment.
It has been weeks since the last time you had been able to indulge in him like this, feel his touch, the warmth of his skin against yours; you missed him so much.
“That’s a shame,” He muttered, eyes looking firmly in yours, closing the distance between you while kneeling next to you so that you could feel his breath on your own lips “Because you’re the only one I want by my side.”
Your eyes widened when his lips brushed yours, a gentle touch to give you time to retreat, to take a step back. However you just closed your eyes, hands flew around his neck, tugging the hair at his nape to get him closer, a groan escaping from his lips as you lost your balance, laying on the cold rock, his hand leading your head softly to the ground while the other gripped firmly your side.
“You were jealous.” He whispered like he just realised that, parting from your lips.
“Shut up, Trengsin.” Altan chuckled as you closed once again the gap between your lips.
“You know, I like that,” He said, gaining a desperate groan from you “Wanna know why?”
“Will you shut up and just go back kissing me, if I do?” You ask, wanting to close the topic as fast as possible, embarrassed and wanting to make up for years of walking on a line you finally crossed.
“Fine, why do you like that, Altan?” You gave up after he eagerly nodded at you.
“Because I get to remind you that I’m always yours, love, always have been and always will,” The softness and sincerity in his words left you speechless. “I’m sorry for taking so long to make that clear.”
P.S. Little did you know the first thing Altan did when he came back home was talking about you with Hanelai, so yeah, she knew everything already and just waited for her little boy to stop playing around and finally make a move.
synopsis — The hounds lull you into a gilded cage, but maybe it is for the best. read the first part here!
pairings — gwayne hightower x targaryen!reader
warning/s — angst, slight fluff at the end if you squint really hard, profanity, age gap, arranged/forced marriage, substances, not proofread, aemma haunting the narrative, multiple character inner dialogue, targcest (not the reader)
word count — 5.1k
a/n ! It's been a year and three months since I last published the first part, I know I said I was gonna post the second part but all I did was get your hopes up. A lot happened to me, I suffered traumatic events such as being SA'd in a house I called home, and it affected me greatly that even my academics were disrupted that I ended up having to attend an extended year in college. And because of that trauma, I lost passion in all things, even my love for doing digital art and writing, but I'm safe where I am now, and I'm slowly returning to doing things I have always love. Here is the 2nd part! I hope you'll love it. I don't know if the people wanting to be tagged for this still want to read this after the betrayal T__T. Don't worry at the end because there will be a part 3! and there, you and Gwayne will finally spend more time together so it means fluff YAYY!! (Also it would help me a lot if you guys have any idea i can add for the third part!) I love love love Gwayne so much, I wish there were more men like him irl. anyways, enjoy!
In certain ways, you remind Rhaenyra of her mother. The daughter her father never asked for, it was as if you came to haunt him. Glimpses in time wherein she was close to forgetting the face of her mother, and then you would stand in front of her, every being —an exact replica of the late Queen.
Aemma, once Rhaenyra was old enough to understand, had told her firstborn daughter of the very first she wailed, having just climbed out of her womb at the age of two and ten. Memory so vivid, there was a smile plastered on Aemma’s lips as she told the story, her eyes fixated on her new embroidery, but Rhaenyra could only imagine her mother was a little girl when she had a.. little girl. She hadn’t told her mother, but what she had heard was more tragic than it just is. And Rhaenyra —fear constructed in her mind because of that, swore an oath to herself that if it ever comes that her father marries her off at such a young age, that she would run away with Syrax.
“I will try to make reason.. with father.” Rhaenyra says as she follows you pacing in distress in front of the fireplace.
“He will not hear it.” You replied, the throbbing in your head was worsening every time you thought of the betrothal. Wishing somehow when you were on your way here that you had fallen from dragonback. Of all the lords of westeros, it had to be a Hightower. An offense you do not take kindly. Let alone a son of a second son. What does he even have to offer? This insinuates that your father only marries you off to him in a discreet scheme to send you away without having to bear the accountabilities that lie with you being a spinster. Perhaps there is a rumor speculating about you unmarried around the realm and they all blame the King, it was no secret that you’ve been kept in the Vale.
Rhaenyra senses the trembling in your voice, she strides closer to you in an attempt to catch your full attention. It had been years since the last time she had seen you, you were nothing but a little girl back then. Always at the side of your stepmother and at times the ladies in waiting, your hand gripped tightly on to their skirts as if you’d be lost if you let go. Then as you grew it became less, but your silence remains the same. You were one to blend in the crowds, the unwavering attention was not to your liking. Avoiding the society as is, but you were unaware that your Targaryen features stood amongst, all eyes were on you as yours cast down. Even there were brave enough that confronted the Realm’s delight in a favor of wanting to take your hand, but Rhaenyra always denies whoever. Stating it should be you who gets to choose your lord husband, something that she was not granted years ago.
And now, that burden has fallen into you. She cannot help but see herself in you.
When Rhaenyra was overwhelmed with duties, especially that of motherly ones. She finds herself in a situation that drives her off from you. The distance so far off that rekindling lost time with you was in no more of her interests, overshadowed then with her growing conflict with Alicent. They were once childhood friends that have grown to strangers as they aged. And then suffocated by these instances, she flew on dragonback to make home in Dragonstone. A feeling of guilt consumes her even more at the thought of leaving you, the only sibling she shared a mother with.
“I will visit his chambers and he will hear me, I’ll make sure of it. For you.” Confidence laces her tone. Rhaenyra now stood near you. Though you mistook it as arrogance and how she —your sister, could just simply voice out that your father would hear her but not you and this notion awakens an impending emotion you had suppressed since you’ve been forsaken. But Rhaenyra only meant no harm at the moment, wanting no more than repaying you for what’s lost between the two of you. Still no matter, she wouldn’t understand. Perhaps the approach is so sudden and desperate that it doesn’t come off as that.
Your pacing halts, jaw tightened and your eyes hardened, the attention Rhaenyra wanted was now all on hers. “Yes. Because you’re the favorite, he will listen to you while I, the forgotten will be sent away but this time in Oldtown.” Your sister, taken aback, stumbles a bit, her hand caresses her growing womb instinctively as if you would harm an unborn child. “Why are you here, Rhaenyra?” You added. A frown now evident on your sister’s face.
“I-“ She tries to find words, but lost her thought in the process. “Y/n.” There was now a thick tension in your chambers. A pause that seemed to make the burning wood more prominent.
“I just want to help you.” Rhaenyra states in a small voice, your eyes too harsh to handle and diverts her gaze down on the ring on her fingers.
The chambers grow too hot every second passing, breathing made a little harder and there was an unfamiliar sting in the back of your eye as if a thousand needles were poking all at the same time.. “You cannot help me, Rhaenyra.” You said, coldly. And hopelessness hinting at your words —something you find hard to accept. Of all times that you’ve only had yourself to turn into, this situation was one that you cannot escape. “‘tis the word of the King.”
Since the first you had entered your old chamber, you finally seated on a chair facing the fireplace. It is consuming what it is fed, and you thought that perhaps death by dragonfire would be a better much fate than to be sent back home only to be cast away from it to another place by none other than your own father. You wonder if your mother awaits you on the other side. Does she know you? Did she watch you grow? Was she even there at your side at all times? Was there a time that she heard you talking to her as if she were alive? If death feels like a warm embrace from Aemma, you would’ve gladly taken your life right then even with Rhaenyra inside your chamber.
“Unless you dare bear the title of a kinslayer and send me to my doom, then you are welcome. I am sure you won’t be held accountable by the blood on your hands, you are the King’s only daughter after all.” She recoils visibly at the last. Feeling uneased and humiliated by her endeavors and seeking you to a time of relief, she finds herself wanting to retreat. She heads for the door of your chamber. Her hand at the handle and tears run down from your eye in a blink.
For seconds, you contemplated the instances of your life wherein you longed the comfortness of an arm around you and here you are, offered one at the moment but you did nothing but send it away, the walls you have built up for yourself in a sense of protection but what you were unconscious to was that the very same wall isolated not solely the misery of certain circumstances but the hand reaching you down on the hole you’ve fallen. Now you’re filled with guilt by lashing out on your sister.
“Rhaenyra.” The heir halts, she looks back at her younger sister with pity. She sees herself too much in her, she wonders why she could not save her from the same fate she had years ago. The way she had called out to her felt as if she was begging. For what, she didn’t know.
“I don’t understand why I’m crying.” Your face remains stoic, but your eyes say otherwise. Was it the child in You? still awaiting the childhood you never had? The little girls in court grew up with toys and share them with other little ladies. Even a friend —one thing you never had. Was this all some form of punishment? a payment for sucking the life out of both your mother and twin brother?
Rhaenyra remains in her place, she too could feel tears gathering at bay. You look back at your older sister, and you are reminded that there was a part of your mother in her too. Does Rhaenyra wear the same face as your mother? that you didn’t know but if there were any way you would honor her memory, it would be through rekindling what was supposed to be with your sister. A shame it took ages, the past was surging with conflict amongst kin, one of the reasons she had drifted apart from you.
Rhaenyra with words empty, could only walk back to where you’re seated and for the first time, you felt the warmth of her embrace. It felt foreign but a strong sense of security was enough to assure you for that moment.
“This will end badly.” Gwayne tells his father, who has not yet calmed down from your outburst earlier in the throne room. To be insulted as such in front of the King almost freed him from the chains of his temper, but as always, the Hand remained at ease. A feature that seemed to have grown even hardest in the passing of his wife.
“No matter how it ends, the betrothal will still remain as it has been granted by the King. Your duty now is to be in the Princess’ favor if you are so worried about how it’ll end.” Otto bites back. He was no fool and he knows how his son is no more than satisfied with the arrangement. It had taken him hundreds of convincing and years for it to be deemed reasonable by the King, though when he brought it up whilst Viserys was deep in the milk of the poppy, the King who was not mentally present in the council meeting had abruptly agreed to the request. And no one had taken a hold of the triumph on the Hand’s face.
“It seems your mind was elsewhere, father. Or had you mistaken the princess’ outburst earlier as a means to express her interests in our betrothal?” Gwayne spits in sarcasm to his father, the frustration evident in the tension of the room. The princess was not what he expected, he had assumed you were weak and small according to how certain ladies at court had circulated amongst. You standing up for yourself earlier in the throne room completely filled Gwayne with humiliation and he wanted nothing more than to sink into a puddle, it was even a surprise to himself that he remained composed. It somehow bought him a bit of relief that you were on the same page as him.
You, a Targaryen princess, was much more worthy than him. He did not think he is deserving of you, a second son. Gwayne had nothing to offer, this betrothal may not be to his favor but still to be granted the hand of a Targaryen was a blessing he did not ask. If the Gods may yet favor him, the marriage may still go forward. The fate he is willing to accept, but if there are circumstances that may uphold such, then he will gladly return to Oldtown empty-handed.
There was also the approval he had long seeked from his father. Something that hid behind his conquests and masks it as merely what a man from his house should be serving. He wields swords and shields in hopes that whatever light it may reflect might get ahold of Otto’s recognition. A son that he’d proudly boast about. But that ambition might have started to die the very day his father brought his sister to court instead. And he is left alone in their home, and he sometimes wished his mother never left them. The only woman who loved him and saw his potential. He doesn’t even remember what she looked like, just glimpses of it in his sister’s features but even then, that wasn’t enough and Alicent’s features were not close to his mother. Wherein his mother wore a mask of contentment, his sister has permanent misery instead. Her being even influenced by his father.
“Princess Y/n is young and still has much to learn. In the meantime, her stay is permanent. Get her in your favor.” With one final hardened gaze, Otto leaves Gwayne pondering to himself. He wonders what is to be done now that his fate has been sealed. A surge of insecurity flows through him at the thought of marrying a princess. He was just a man, Hightowers may be of highborn but he doesn’t own lands and had no titles. He only wielded swords and shields in which was even a little offer to you —his soon to be wife. You, a Targaryen princess, didn't need his protection, you had a dragon. The events earlier had even proved your distaste to him. How will he even start to form a bond with you when the second you laid eyes on him, you had told everyone in the throne room that you’d sooner accept death than to be wedded? Your arrogance and the lack of holding accountable by your disrespect to the King earlier has him despise your arrogance. After all you are the princess, why should you.
The prospect of your marriage would undoubtedly be filled with you seeking dominance over him simply because you are the King’s daughter. And it even pales him further.
Alicent remembers the halls on the way to her chambers. She may yet to give her step-daughter a warm welcome she did not receive and it ended with a terrible dispute in the throne room. The whispers now have circulated of your uncontrollable temper. The princess who has grown mad from being isolated on the Vale —some say, even as far as perhaps Ser Gwayne Hightower might do the realm a favor and tame the princess as the woman she supposedly is.
A small voice of come in answers to her knock. Alicent pushes the door, greeted with a smile from you. Though your eye gives away the sadness deep within. The same one she wears the past remaining years. While you were away, the happiness the Queen received was merely Helaena and her children. She often asks herself if you too missed her, and if you felt the identical loneliness and longing brewing inside of her.
“Y/n. I have missed you.” She says, returning the gesture. The words you’ve always read but never heard. Alicent could remember the very day she so desperately missed her time with you even as far as voicing it out to her Husband if it was even the right decision to send you away. She was later on rebuked by Otto, deeming her request at the council as a sign of weakness and her attachments to you should not be prevailed upon the verity that you are not her daughter. Still the Queen herself loves you as the same she does to her true children.
“Alicent.” You pull her into an embrace in which she accepts. Alicent could see the progress of your growth, now as taller as her, the fullness of your cheek is nowhere. The years she spent without you had her come into an emotional state. She hugs you tightly, not wanting to let go, though you are the first to pull away.
“You have grown.” She tells you, looking you up and down. As if she could not truly accept she missed you turning into a woman and now you are subjected to such obligations that neither she even wanted. She loves you, but she cannot help you with calling off the betrothal even with your evident disdain.
Alicent was offered the same fate, she too did not want it but she sooner and later accepted that even the despondents of situations, you’ll find contentment at the end. The children that she was given. Her brother Gwayne was a good man, and even that should be pleasurable enough for you. Had you been offered to a man without morals, you would’ve ended up with a bitter taste in your tongue now and then, the same as Alicent.
“Well I cannot remain a child forever, even if I wanted to.” You chuckled. You examine the woman in front of you, Alicent remains the same. The years may have spared her. The fullness of the curls in her hair was as if untouched and she is still fond of the green in her gowns. You admit it goes well with the color of her hair. Still you have not fully grown accustomed and there may be sides of her that are nothing but a stranger to you.
“How was your travels?” She asks, guiding you to sit with her on the couch.
“Silverwing was fast, I bet she too misses the company of her own kind. The wind might have yet to pull my hair out of my roots, but all is fair.” You laughed, remembering the tangles in your hair that you just have finished mending to, the bath after have released the tension in your muscles and cooled down the fire in your veins.
“It may be a moon till your carriages arrive here. I have spare dresses in which I have grown into, I will have them sent here.” Alicent offers, she brushes the strand of hair on your face and tucks it behind your ear. You notice the slight sad look in her eye.
“Is something bothering you?” She looks away. Alicent, even if she was fond of you, found herself a bit offended by your comments about betrothal directed to her brother. As a sister and mainly the Queen, she obliges to persuade you with your newly given duty. Yet she cannot help with how to form words in a way that would not change the atmosphere.
“I just-“ She takes a deep breath and lets out a heavy sigh. “I am sorry.” Feeling guilty of the preposition.
“For what?” You notice her fidgeting with the skin around her nails.
“For the betrothal,” she starts. “My brother, Gwayne, is an honorable man. I trust he will not do anything that will harm you.” A sour taste on your tongue appeared, having heard of the name mentioned. Alicent starts to compose herself and you thought of hearing her out even with your tensed state, just now that you started to forget about the situation, she so briefly reminded you. Seemingly annoyed now but you cannot hate her now. “Y/n.. I understand that this is all sudden to you and I hope you find yourself.. f-forgiving me for not sending you any letters regarding all this but-“ her voice starts to quake with apprehension. “Believe me that this will all turn out in favor at the end.” She finishes, her hands now taking yours in hers in an attempt to give consolation. You let her. Alicent is not sure if she chose the right words.
“I-“ You stutter, careful with the words coming out from your mouth, seeing Alicent avoiding your gaze. Not wanting to hurt her in return or spit insults at her father and brother. “Alicent.. I don’t know what to say. Or do. I don’t even want to be reminded of the matter now, I am angry at my father for not even asking me about whom to marry if me being a spinster bothers him so.” There was another words waiting at the tip of your tongue, a sharp jab you are sure that’ll make Alicent uneasy. There was a slight hesitation, a moment of deciding against it but the truth always had this nature —a facade of a slander. “I’d say he’s desperate, a son of a second son. What benefit is there in marrying your brother? Other than saving him from the humiliation from the court?”
As expected, Alicent recoils and an unmoving unreadable expression paints her face. The reflection of the fire dances in her glistening eyes. A wave of emotion she dares not release. Lingering quietness overshadowed by the tension between the two of you. “I know nothing of the matters in court, but I trust your father the King has his reasons.” She says a moment later, quickly composing herself. Posture straight and blinking rapidly. The gears tumble inside of her head, Alicent cannot save you from your fate now, she was merely just a woman. All she could do was pray for the sweet fruit to bloom in your forthcoming future. Even when the Gods did not heed to her. Perchance that they would favor you instead, Targaryens are above others after all.
“Y/n.. I am not here to argue.” She says. “My brother. Gwayne is a good man. He is different from the men in court. He's an honorable, respectful man. I’m sure you both will find more in common if you’ll both let it.”
“I don’t need you convincing me, Alicent.” You warn. A slight tremor from the thought of spending the rest of your life far from King’s Landing, your family. Alone in a castle in Oldtown, married to a man your heart does not beat for. Birthing his offspring, as if it’s the only thing you serve purpose.
“This settlement needs little to no convincing, Princess.” Alicent rebutes. “Only I can do for you now is to ease tensions and worries you might have. Most women in our standards are shipped off as broodmares to a man that does not see their worth as such. A marriage to my brother is a mercy in the conditions of arrangements.” The noticeable bitterness in her tone caught up on you, though you did nothing to address it. She too was subjected to a path she did not want, only those around her see the benefits of it. Alicent was a ploy to others’ schemes. Every woman is.
The chatter resonating at the banquet adds little to no distractions from your impending doom. Bitterness swirls within every laughter you hear, as if it’s directed to you. How dare people enjoy the feast and stuff their throat with wine and roasted pigs and turkeys while yours closed with a painful lump, even swallowing nothing stings and reminds you of him. A permanent scowl directed at him, if only a hole opens up and devours him whole, only then you’ll be able to enjoy the half full goblet of wine that trembles in your tightening grip. Was it because of anger? disdain at your beloved betrothed or the jester that seems to be enjoying your misery and making an entertainment out of it? Whatever he said that has the small group of drunkards that gathered around him, you didn’t hear. Choosing to dissociate and hope that time will pass by quickly so you may resume your wallowing in your chambers.
“It does not fit for a future bride to look so despondent.” A voice pipes on your side, Prince Jacaerys sits on the empty chair previously occupied by his mother. You scoff in return, taking a huge gulp from the goblet. “It’s bad luck.” he smirks teasingly.
“As if marrying a Hightower isn’t already bad luck itself.“ you said, unconsciously diverting your eyes back to the Redhead, in which happens to feel your burning gaze on him, turned to look at you. Gwayne gives a small nod out of respect, you roll your eyes in response, focusing on the patterns carved on the feast table instead.
“I’m sure it isn’t so bad.” Jacaerys attempts, studying your face if for a moment it falters to something that shows uncomfortness that might be directed at him. He knows he’s testing the waters, but his mother told him so to console you and mainly because it had been too long since he last saw you, his aunt. There was a silence that followed, one he was sure that you won’t answer, and so he prepared to compose himself and thought that giving you space might be the only consolidation that you need.
“I know what you’re doing.” You sigh, turning to him with a frown and only then you realized that this wasn’t the nephew you knew ages ago. His features were the evident of that, his features grew sharper and he no longer has unkempt locks that you used to brush for him. A slight wave of sadness washed over you, having reminded you of all the missed years you spent away from Rhaenyra and her family.
“I- I don’t know what you mean.” He chuckles awkwardly from having been caught from his poor attempt of indulging you.
“I’ve had enough of everyone pitying me all day then pitching and convincing me of this stupid arrangement as if it would change my mind when I couldn’t even decline it in the first place.” You took a huge gulp of wine. “No one will understand what I feel, that this is not all just merely the thought of marrying.” Jacaerys listens to you intently, he shifts his body to fully face you.
“Is it because he’s a Hightower?”
“No.”
“Because he’s much older than you?” He tries.
“No.” You contemplate, and he sees this. For a moment there was an undeniable tension, Jacaerys seeing the gloss of your eye as you stared into nothing. And he pities you, and he also feels guilty because you just told him that you’ve had enough of it.
“And to think I cannot wait to go back home. Then the moment I stepped foot in here, it felt as if I’m a stranger. I no longer recognize the faces that welcomed me. I searched for that warmth this place used to give me and never have I felt it again. This place is different. Everything and everyone is not the same. I don’t remember how Aegon, Helaena and Aemond used to look when they were children. Nor do I fully remember you and Luke. I’ve missed so much in the years that it felt like I don’t deserve to belong here. Could it be that this marriage is a heaven sent, a faith bestowed upon me by the Gods? A way of saying that I belong somewhere but here?”
Jacaerys now stares at you with a dumbfounded look, not expecting you to spill out words. But he understands you fully, he feels some sort of pride that you trusted him enough to tell him all this, despite not seeing each other for years, despite him being so much younger than you. Or could it be just the wine talking? It made him feel that he’s no longer a child, that you no longer saw him as a child. For the first time in a while, he felt seen somehow. But this isn’t about him, this was about you.
“To serve your family is a sacrifice that balances the scale. To maintain order to the realm that is,” Jacaerys starts. “But I am no woman. I do not know the suffering that bares you, the fear that you feel of the thought of being tied to a man you’ve just met. But I do know that whatever cage you find yourself in, you will always manage to crawl your way out.” He puts his hands on both your shoulders, daring you to face him and he sees the dark circles under your eyes, the tension of your lips pressed in a thin line, the furrow of your eyebrows and his reflection staring right back at him. “You are not just a woman. You are a Targaryen. I will not console you because it further debases your capabilities, which is more than you’re deserving. But do know that if anything goes south, I will always be there at arms ready.”
Jacaerys is immediately flung to your embrace as you pull him in, he realizes a few milliseconds then pats your back in a soothing manner. “Thank you, Jace.”
You both pull away a moment after, followed by a comfortable silence. Pairs gather at the center of the room as the band plays a familiar tune. Jace looks at you, contemplating asking you for a dance but before he could, a figure hovering behind you clears his throat garnering both your attention. As soon as you raised your eyes to meet the man, you visibly tensed.
“May I have the honor, Princess?” Ser Gwayne with all his confidence gathered did not hesitate, stating his intentions. Having heard of both your betrothal, he decides to just prove the arrangement might not be as bad as it seems, especially now that half the nobles all throughout the country gathered here today in celebration for your return and as well as the betrothal.
The room fades into an endless resonance as you stared petrified on his outreached hand, you looked around you having noticed the attention gathering from the simple gesture, but it wasn’t as simply an invitation to dance. It signified the acceptance of the union.
As every second passed, Ser Gwayne’s hope slowly fades, the pressuring stare bare witness to his suffering and the humiliation that is to come to him, he decides that if that were the case then he can’t do nothing but to accept the rejection and pray to the seven Gods to swallow him where he stood. Jacaery’s grows amused with the tension brewing before him, and without any contemplation, he decides to leave the rest up to you, silently hoping that all goes well not just for the two of you but for the events in the throne room to not be repeated.
It may have been the wine in your veins or perhaps Jacarey's encouraging words that fueled the fire in your heart, or maybe that look in your betrothed's eye —that reminded you of your dragon’s when taking away its unburnt sheep— that made you move without a second, and just for a moment, that split second where you are sure Ser Gwayne has abandoned all hope and was about to retract his hand in defeat did you place your hands in his. All light returned in his eyes, widened in disbelief because neither of you expected that it would be too soon for a connection. As for the incident imposed by you, —visibly cringing at the thought, you are yet to apologize for such childish antics.
His hands were rough, from sword fighting for sure, and the difference in the size of your hands did not go unnoticed, though for a reason you did not know, your heart leaped at the foreign action — and so did Ser Gwayne’s.
The warmth of your hand reminded him of a raging hearth on a stormy night.
Obsessive Vedrfolnir who sees the future and does everything to ensure you survive the cataclysm and become attached to him.
Obsessive Vedrfolnir first, he can isolate you by gradually cutting you off from all your family and friends, so that you become dependent on him .
Obsessive Vedrfolnir in times of cataclysm will grab you by the arm and drag you away, ensuring you have no connection to Khaenriah.
Obsessive Vedrfolnir who keeps you by his side while he's founding the Abyss order.
Obsessive Vedrfolnir If you try to escape he will bind you with his chains.
Obsessive Vedrfolnir Don't worry, he would never hurt his beautiful girl. At most, he'll tie you up so you can't escape. He's planning to make you the queen of his order<3
Thinking about how helpless a darling of just one of the Five Sinners of Khaenri'ah would be…
First off there is no remote chance that the darling of Yandere!Rhinedottir would be able to escape her, sure I do not think Rhinedottir would be the type to kidnap or exactly control her darling, rather just wanting to watch her like a mouse in a lab just the whole world of Teyvat as her enclosure. There is no where her darling could run that she could escape, not from her at least, she devoured the Shade of Life. She will watch her darling everywhere she goes, nowhere is too far to escape her gaze. I see her as the type to live to take care of her darling, even in the smallest ways, food laid out for her darling when they are too exhausted to cook or changing her clothing after her darling fell asleep in the clothes she wore all day, poor thing, what would she do without Rhinedottir looking after her? Every time her darling thinks she has a moment of peace and quiet, maybe even settling down she will see Rhinedottir in some sort of way, it may be her creations being set loose and ruin everything she had made for herself or Rhinedottir herself coming to pay her a visit as if she was just a wife away on a business trip. She could destroy everything that would possibly matter to her darling, but laying a finger on her own darling head? No she would never, she likes to see that life in her eyes.
Now I have talked about Yandere!Rerir quite a bit before, his goals may be limited but his obsession is not, he became the monster he is because he lost his lover before and you think he would let that happen to him again? Oh bless your heart, when he finds his darling again he is never letting them go again. He will drag his darling down to the deepest pit of the Abyss with him if it meant getting to keep them with him, of course no one wants that to happen so it would be in his darling’s best interest to play pretend with him and accept the fate that awaits them because then at least when no one else is around he lets down a wall and lets himself be gentle with his darling, otherwise his darling may have to deal with the terror of angering him whenever he draws near.
Now the others may be gentle, kind, or infantilize their darlings, never actually hurting them, but Yandere!Surtalogi is something else entirely. I firmly believe that he would never be gentle with his darling unless he knows he has complete control over them, which means he knows they are not going to run away, talk back, or even shy away when he touches them. Now he does not get them to comply by being kind to them, he achieves this by putting the literal fear of all the gods in the universe into their soul. He is not afraid of physically harming his darling, and I am not talking about breaking and ankle or twisting a wrist, I am talking about cutting off limbs or other body parts, he did it to Skirk when she was just a child, what would stop him from doing such a thing to his darling? Every time his darling misbehaved it would be something else, so it is in his darling’s best interest to listen to him before the only way they can move is by him carrying them around. Of course once his darling is broken in, he does let down some walls, though take that with a grain of salt, which basically he means he will not toss them around like a sack of potatoes every time he touches them, helping his darling wash up when they are too sore, or silently holding them when they wake up crying from a nightmare. As long as he knows he is stronger than them and his power is never questioned his darling can survive semi comfortably, at least compared to how he treated them when he first stole them away.
Oh Yandere!Hroptatyr is the most patronizing yandere on the face of Teyvat. He is smart and he knows that and he would absolutely use his mind to make his darling feel small, weak, ignorant, nothing without him to look after them and take care of them. It does not matter how strong willed or independent his darling is, all it takes if for him to make the smallest break through and plant the smallest seed of doubt for his darling to crumble like a tower of cards, allowing him to shuffle the deck that is her mind however he wants. He will squirm his way into his darling’s life with her ever realizing he is there, watching her like an ever looming presence, a passerby she bumps into on the street or the researcher she met at ruins she was traveling by. After so long he becomes such a constant part of his darling’s life that when they do officially meet that it is so easy for him to become a support to her, her mind unconsciously so used to his touch and his sugar covered words luring her into a false sense of security. By the time his darling actually realizes who he is and the danger she is in then it is already too late, he knows her behavior down to a science, she is trapped. She can try to run but by the time she thinks she is safe he is standing there, looming over her, smiling at her like nothing is wrong as if it was just something she needed to get out of her system.
Then lastly Yandere!Vedrfolnir, I firmly believe he is one of the most dangerous yanderes one could possibly catch the attraction of, not because he will harm his darling in anyway, just because there is no possibility way to get away from him. We see him with Dainsleif, he likely knew what was coming with the cataclysm and if it be before or after they took pieces of abyssal power for themselves, Vedrfolnir was still watching over his little brother, giving him a ring to help lessen the pain that was going to come with his immortality. It is also heavily implied that he raised his little brother, he truly does care for those he loves, so it would be no different with his darling. He is already so infatuated with his darling long before they have ever met, catching glimpses of her in visions of the future, he can hardly wait for the day they actually meet. Then when they do meet he acts like he already knows her, well of course he already knows her, he knows everything about her, but it would be horrifying for his darling to see a man who they have never met calling her pet names and treating her like they have already known each other for hundreds of years. He will be so kind and gentle with his darling, treating her like glass that could break if he just simply touched her wrong. Of course there is no where his darling could possibly run that he would not be able to find them, he can see the future, there is no where they can run that he does not already know, he will just patiently wait until he knows they have calmed down before going out bring them back home, drawing them close as if to remind them he will always the there to bring them back home, after all he is the blasphemy against time, he has all the time in the world.
Just think about it.. Young Surtalogi x Rich, Noble Fem Reader. How would peak it is.. She comes from a noble family but she is also curious and meets him as she enters the streets of Khaenriah, which are in worse condition. She disappears and Surtalogi takes her home. This is how they become friends, but if the reader's father sees his daughter next to the son of death row inmates, he will have a heart attack. This fic would be really long, hurt comfort potential.
gn!reader, slightly angsty, religious themes, kinda religious guilt?? not really the word for it tho. blasphemy.
“Are you in love with me, Dain?”
“What?”
“Are you in love with me?”
There is no solace in devotion, nor is there comfort in belief. The clasped hands that sit below whispered prayers have always served him better by his sides.
Dainsleif does not believe in God, and in turn, God does not believe in Dainsleif.
It’s a complicated relationship, because it’s not as though he denies the existence of a higher power, of God. No, he doesn’t deny that at all. The lines on his palms are too purposeful, and the skin on his body too detailed. The patterns of each snowflake so different, and you, lying beside him, far too beautiful.
Dainsleif does not believe in God, because God has never believed in Dainsleif. He knows that. He knows that as well as he knows the lines on his palms. God has never cared for the pleas that fell from his lips, the tears that pooled at his eyes. God has never cared for the bruises on his knees, the ones that he’d gained from begging, from reducing himself to submission. God, throughout it all, has never, ever cared for Dainsleif. He knows that as well as he knows the lines on his palms.
It’s a silly question to ask, he thinks. He’s not sure why you even did. You’re lying beside him, half of your face taken in by the plush of the pillow it sits on. The only sound in his room is the quiet whirr of the radiator to the right of his bed. He’s sitting up, and the headboard feels slightly cold against his bare back. The night is long, but thankfully, it is still. He wonders if God is watching.
“Okay,” you say.
Dainsleif realises only then that he’d left you to sit with your own question for too long. He turns his head to you, to the small frown that curls onto your lips, and a tinge of regret blooms at his chest.
“Sorry, y/n,” he mumbles, reaching out to thread his fingers through your hair. Though you don’t respond to his quiet apology, he sees your eyes close at his touch, feeling the way he runs his hand through the strands. The pads of his fingers press lightly against your scalp, gently massaging the area until he manages to coax a sigh from your lips.
“It’s okay, don’t apologise.” Your eyes remained closed, one hand under the pillow while the other rests beside you. “You never say it anyway. Just tell me to stop asking.”
Dainsleif has only prayed once. He remembers it, and God, as uncaring as God may be, remembers it too. A brilliant display of desperation, a painting of all the sorrows in his heart. Dainsleif was knelt down, bartering with loss, as if loss’s greed did not triumph Dainsleif’s need. Dainsleif has only prayed once, and he will never, ever pray again.
He’s not sure why he can’t tell you he loves you; it’s true that he does. In fact, he might love you more than anyone else. He might even love you more than the palms of his hands, the ones that have served him better than anything watching from above. Dainsleif can barely look your way without feeling blinded, maimed by a light that shines more intensely than the light of God.
He feels faint when he kisses you, dizzy, like your tongue traces spells onto his tongue. He feels warm, flushed, when you lie sprawled across his chest. Skin to skin, heart to heart.
A lot of time passes after you speak, and it brings a comfortable slumber with it. He can tell from the way your soft snores accompany the whirr of his radiator, when his eyes graze over the rise and fall of your chest. There’s some guilt in letting you fall asleep upset, but he takes note to make it up to you in the morning, when the sun that rises will sit in the sky, envious of the way you shine brighter.
Dainsleif does not believe in God, because God has never believed in Dainsleif. God, throughout it all, has never, ever cared for Dainsleif.
But you, you have always believed. You, throughout it all, have always, always cared. He knows that. He knows that as well as he knows the lines on his palms.
“I love you,” he says. You don’t catch it through your sleep.
For the first time in years, and of his own betrayal, the words leave his mouth like a prayer.
i’ll write this into a full fic eventually. but i have to stop writing hopping lol i promise i’ll upload the 2nd part to my last flins fic before that ♡
