You’re a princess, betrothed to don John in an arranged marriage, and Jack is your loyal and devoted knight who’s secretly in love with you.
@scarlettspectra sorry I couldn’t answer your ask directly but tumblr messes with the format of the moodboard if it’s posted in a direct response to an ask idk why 😭
Knight!Jack who was once your childhood best friend, a stable boy with ambitions of one day becoming a valiant knight.
You would sneak out of your etiquette lessons to run around the meadows with Jack, rolling down hills, climbing trees and wading through narrow streams, leaving your satin gowns covered in grass and mud stains.
But as you grew, your duties increased, leaving you with precious little time to yourself and soon Jack could be no longer found at the stables, he was training with the other knights, determined to prove himself worthy of serving and protecting the kingdom… and you.
He earned the honour of becoming your personal guard and from dawn til dusk he was by your side, always ready to shield and protect you from whatever dangers might come your way.
When the time came for you to journey to Messina for your official engagement to don John, Jack reminded by your side to continue his duty as your personal guard.
Jack was stood right behind you the first time you and don John were introduced, watching closely as the bastard prince took your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. He hated that smirk that always seemed to remain on the corner of don John’s lip and the way his eyes glinted with trickery and deceit. He didn’t like him one bit.
Jack trailed close behind while don John took you on a stroll around the palace gardens, though the prince desired to be alone with you. He gave Jack an order to leave but Jack refused, insisting he must be by your side at all times to keep you safe. Don John assured him that should anything happen, he was more than capable of keeping you safe himself and, reluctantly, Jack left with a gently nod of assurance from you. Though he didn’t go far, he made sure you remained within sight, watching as don John plucked at one of the flowers and gave it to you. He tightened his grip on his sword.
Jack didn’t know that you wrote in your diary about your childhood memories of playing with him in the meadows. Most recently you wrote about the time Jack had promised you that when he became a knight, he’d rescue you from your betrothed and you’d both run away together. You still wonder about how serious he was.
Unfortunately, don John got his hands on your diary. After reading it, he knew he had to get Jack out of the picture, he wouldn’t tolerate anyone who made threats of stealing his fiancée from him.
Don John fabricated a lie about a secret troop of invaders planning to attack Messina. As your personal guard, Jack volunteered to join don John on his mission to stop the invaders before they reached the palace.
The night before they left for battle, you met Jack and tied one of your scarves around his armour as a token of affection and good luck and you stole a kiss, praying for his safe return.
Don John, Jack and the knights under don John’s command, galloped off at the break of dawn. Once the troop had traveled a distance from Messina, don John and his knights attacked Jack, who put up a strong fight, realising this had been don John’s intentions the whole time. He tried his best, but don John and his knights fought dirty and Jack was left for dead.
Don John returned to Messina claiming victory, taking delight in informing you that your knight didn’t make it. All you wanted was to run to your chambers and cry, but don John insisted that his fiancée would not be absent while the rest of the kingdom celebrates his victory and ensured you remained by his side the rest of the night.
The following day was your wedding day, it should’ve been the happiest day of your life but you were fighting back tears as your lady’s maids helped you into your wedding gown and weaved flowers into your hair.
Then an intruder dressed in armour burst into your chamber, startling you and your lady’s maids. The knight tried to raise to his feet, but he didn’t have the strength, then you saw your scarf, still securely tied to his armour and you knew it was Jack and immediately rushed to his side.
With blood on his hands, he grasped at your dress staining the white fabric with handprints of deep crimson, as you knelt by his side trying to help him sit up but the weight of his armour made him almost immobile.
You frantically worked to rid him of the stiff and heavy plates of metal that were strapped to him, while he tried desperately to tell you something though his voice was breathy and wheezy, you could barely understand until he stilled your frantic movements by grasping your hands in his and looking you in the eye as he said:
Warnings: smut (p in v), virgin reader, sex pollen, dub/non con due to sex pollen, fuck or die, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, bodice ripping, former childhood friends, Don John's twisted version of love.
Summary: In preparation for the Summer's Twilight Festival, you set out to gather flowers for the potions the apothecary will sell during the revelry. Meanwhile, your former childhood friend, Don John, plans to seduce you using the most nefarious method possible: the potent lover’s death flower.
A/N: For @97keanu and her Camp Keanuverse Summerween Fanfic Event!
Thank you @scarlettspectra for being my beta reader and Don John expert. ❤️
Border credits to @strangergraphics.
Outskirts of Messina, 1588
A relieved sigh escapes your lips as your toes dip into the refreshing stream near your favorite wildflower fields. Mornings like these were your favorite–the sun peeking over the vast horizon, bathing the earth in a heavenly golden light while the rest of the village was just now waking up.
Being an apprentice to the village's apothecary brings on tedious responsibilities such as completing chores and errands both of the petty and paramount variety. This morning was a paramount errand; you were ordered by your mentor to collect the ingredients for many diverse elixirs and medicines. Every dawn of a festival hosted in Messina called for the usual relief the following sunrise: headaches, hangovers, heartache, indigestion, etcetera. All could be cured by the apothecary.
Petty or paramount duties aside, you still found time to relax and play–whether it was climbing the trees, making floral wreaths, or daydreaming of being rescued by a prince. It was vital to enjoy and utilize the life surrounding you, your role as an apothecary apprentice is proof of that.
A muffled grunt came from behind you. Turning your head, you take in the sight of a young man close to your age stumbling and clutching his shoulder. His tall, lean frame is hunched over, the sleeve of his white flowing shirt stained crimson from the gash on his arm.
Pulling your feet from the water, you hurry closer to the injured young man. “Sir, are you alright? Let me help you.”
“I do not require your assistance. I am more than capable of caring for myself–Like I've always done before.” He jerks back, as if offended.
You halt, not wanting to upset the stranger, but your caring heart could not deny much needed help–even despite his protesting. “Please, I insist. Your wound shall get infected without adequate treatment.”
Against propriety, you grab his hand and pull him closer to the river. “At least let me clean and bandage your arm enough to get you to the doctor–”
Looking up at him, you're finally able to see his features. He was handsome with hair the color of raven's wings with equally dark eyes glaring at your own. You blush, not used to the attention from others, especially from this angst-ridden man.
“I will allow this, if only to avoid the satisfaction from my brother besting me and the public shaming from my father.” He conceded begrudgingly, letting you guide him to sit by the river bank.
Being an apprentice, you were not granted ample opportunities to converse freely with others your age. Not wanting to leave an awkward silence, you attempted conversation.
“May I ask how you acquired this flesh wound?” You start, starting to clean the gash.
“A sword fight with my brother. Our father pitted us against each other and Don Pedro slashed my arm.” His tone is clipped, obviously not wanting to divulge too much information too soon.
You pause, Don Pedro? I know that name… “Is your father the king–are you a prince?”
“Bastard prince.” He spat out venomously.
You couldn't curtsy while sitting down and it would have been improper to stand above royalty, so you did the next best thing–you got into the river and looked up at him, curtsying in the shallow waters.
He scoffs, his face showing contempt. “You don't curtsy to bastard princes. Especially not me.”
Getting out of the water, you shrug. “I'm not one for adhering to accepted solemnities, my prince.”
Despite his expression of stoic indifference, you catch a gleam of amusement in his obsidian gaze. You set about dressing his wound with the extra herbal remedies you gathered earlier, taking great care to wrap his muscled bicep. Once you finished tying off the bandage, you helped him stand back up.
The two of you made quite a fascinating portrait: an injured prince with no crown and an unconventional spirited apothecary’s apprentice placed side by side as equals.
“Do you have a name, Prince?” you ask, the both of you now sitting among the wildflowers while your fingers delicately weave together a simple wreath.
“Don John,” he replies, his lithe body relaxed and splayed out among the white, purple, and yellow flowers. “You look to be my remedy for all things. Tell me, apprentice, can you grant me a potion or a solution to make everyone treat me as an equal to my brother?”
You chuckle, looking at his face again and spotting a faint sprinkle of freckles across his nose, gifting him a boyish air to his otherwise surly appearance. “It will peeve you for me to say that I do not have the power nor the desire to give you such an elixir. That is not how apothecaries conduct their profession.”
Gesturing at your surroundings, you continue. “Look at the earth and its flowers. Plants and wildlife have no concept of titles or arbitrary customs. They just are. You cannot let others define who you are. The fact that you exist is enough–just be whatever you wish to be.” You glance down at the completed flower crown, smiling as you plop it on his head. “But if you must require a crown, let this suffice.”
The scowling Don John with a colorful wreath of flowers in his inky dark hair provided a beautifully contrasting image. A fitful of giggles escape your lips as you compliment how dashing the flower prince looked.
Don John wrenches the offending object and tosses it aside, grumbling. “It is I that should be giving you flowers.”
As if to prove his point, he gets up, scouring the field for any flowers he deemed worthy. Luckily, you followed him, because his eyes laid upon a singular flower that stood out brilliantly among the other common flowers. Its bronze colored petals gleamed with traces of golden pollen coating the edges, as if it was the sun metamorphosed into flower form.
Before he stepped any closer, you grabbed the hand reaching for the lustrous bloom. “For the love of God, do not touch that!”
“Whyever not?” He asks, his brow furrowed deeper and his lower lip pouting slightly.
“You mustn’t pick that particular flower,” you say, exasperated. “That is the lover’s death flower.”
“Lover’s death flower?” he asked.
“That flower has pollen that acts as a gravely potent aphrodisiac. The pollen is a key ingredient in love potions, but only a miniscule amount due to how powerful it is. If someone comes in direct contact with the pollen, a tremendous wave of desire overcomes them and if left untreated, they will succumb to the flower’s effects.” You explain, desperately trying to dissuade him from entertaining getting closer to the enticing flower.
“What is the treatment to cure this deadly desire?” he asks, an eyebrow raised.
This question causes a prominent blush to grace your cheeks. “Well, umm–the only known cure is to engage in hopefully consensual love making…and once the affected gains their height of pleasure, the pollen’s influence will subside.” You look away, not able to meet his penetrating stare. “Forgive me, Don John, for speaking about such vulgarities–”
Your apology is interrupted by his hand gently taking your chin and tilting your head up to meet those bottomless pools of black ice again. “You need not apologize, apprentice. I shall keep that information in mind should I ever encounter the lover’s death again.”
Ten Years Later
In your twenty-fifth year of life, you had been running Messina's apothecary since your mentor retired. For the past five years, you provided the surrounding villages with cures to their varying ailments.
Tonight was a rather unique night, you volunteered to travel to the southernmost neighboring village to assist the healers during the Summer's Twilight Festival, a festival celebrating the end of the Summer months and the dawning of Autumn. And of course, you must gather the main ingredients for the medicines you'll be handing out with the healers.
During your trek to the wildflower fields, your mind cannot help but wonder about the young boy–no, man–that you befriended all those years ago. In the past ten years, you only saw Don John a handful of times. Mostly brief glances that would linger on your body even after turning away. The Messina Masquerade was no exception, despite the full face masks, you could immediately tell which creature-like visage possessed the distinctive eyes that were so cold, not even the sun could bless them with the inviting warmth and shine granted to other fellow human beings. You left before the masked Don John could propose anything–be it discussion, dance, or dalliance, you did not care. You did not want to see him especially now when you heard about the dastardly villainy he committed towards Don Pedro and dear Hero.
As you reach the wildflower landscape, a peculiar and disquieting feature catches your eye. A patch of flowers with unmistakable bronze petals and painted golden edges with sparkling pollen covering them. You knew this was a consequence of your willful inaction.
Ever since officially taking over the apothecary, you refused to brew love potions. The entire concept of stripping someone of their free will of love was abhorrent to you. During your years of gathering and traveling, the singular lover's death flower spawned more lover’s death. Who knows how powerful the cursed pollen is now that there's several. You shiver, moving to avoid that side of the field.
To distract yourself from the concerning amount of lover's death, your mind wanders back to Don John. A squeezing ache crept up around your heart. This field of multicolored flowers and beauty was the place you first met Don John. Try as you might, the hopeless romantic part of you could not resist the allure of the repelling Don John. Ever since you were both teenagers, you held a quiet affection for the man doomed by birth and circumstances. If everyone could have seen the man instead of the bastard, would Don John have stood a chance at living a more conventional existence? Too many what-ifs for you to ponder, and pondering about what could have been will do you no good anymore. Don John made his decision and your personal feelings toward him must not conflict with your moral convictions.
Speaking of the devil, you hear that heartbreakingly familiar voice. “I knew you were hiding from me, my little apprentice–or should I say apothecary. You have blossomed like these wildflowers into a captivating, wanted lady.”
Spinning around, you come face to face with Don John. The dark prince of no kingdom but his own misery. Still devastatingly beautiful, but bitter resentfulness had long permeated his soul, reflecting back on the world with a vengeance.
“I do not wish to speak with you, Don John,” you turn away from him, wishing you could disappear among the wildlife.
“Pray tell me, why pretty dear lady?” His deep voice was honeyed with excessive flattery.
You shake your head, chancing a glance back in his direction. “Should you not be off causing woe and heartache to some other pitiful wench?”
“That I should,” he saunters closer, his body heat radiating off him like a furnace–a warmth that brings no comfort to you. “But I wish to at long last reunite with the apothecary girl that dressed my wound all those years ago and thank her.”
“I do not need your thanks,” you respond shortly, not wanting to ponder what his definition of thanking her is.
“So cold, my little apothecary,” he circles you like a cat toying with its prey. “I recall you were much more…vivacious. You could rival the sun with your carefree countenance.”
“As you have said, that was years ago. I have changed and you even more so.” You crane your neck to look into his bottomless dark eyes.
“I have not changed at all. I am and will always be a bastard.” He says this with no remorse. You should not be surprised, but a part of you always wished he could break free from what others cruelly labeled him as.
Don John trailed after you as you walked further into the meadow, his fingers brushing the stray flower petals. “I never forgot about you. You were the only one to show me kindness despite being undeserving of it.”
His voice is uncharacteristically soft and genuine. It made butterflies flutter in your stomach despite your effort of suppressing any feelings for him.
“It would please me greatly if I knew that I occupied your thoughts, and your heart, as much as you do mine.” He curls a lock of your hair around his long index finger, fondness evident in his tone.
You take a deep breath, preparing yourself. “There was once a time I most certainly could confirm you occupy my heart, Don John. Now that is not the case.”
His permanently furrowed brow deepened. “Tell me why.”
You set down your basket and step closer to him, his firm chest brushing against yours. “I knew since the day I met you that everything in your life was stacked against you. You were in a privileged setting with no reward due to circumstances beyond your control. I pitied you. Now knowing about your actions against your brother and having a hand in the innocent Hero’s demise, my pity has evaporated.”
A crack in Don John’s armor formed. His eyes flared when he grabbed your hand quite harshly, his fingers tight and unyielding as they enveloped yours. “I ask for so little. In a world that shuns me, my only wish is for the one kind soul to share the rest of my wretched life with me.”
You hastily pull your hand away as if his touch burned you. “Instead of proving the world wrong and utilizing your privilege for good, you dove recklessly into villainy and despicableness. That I cannot abide by.”
A chilling laugh bursts from his lips. “I delight in the tribulation of those who cast me off. Deeming me unworthy from birth without ever getting the opportunity for me to make them abhor me. Your virtuousness means little to me. I do not care what superiority of merit you wish to bestow upon me. Let me be who I am and seek not to alter me.”
Don John grabs your chin forcefully, continuing. “Just be with me. Let us run away and live together. Accept me. Love me. Be my wife, my partner, my friend, anything as long as you are mine.”
His other hand cups your face and he pulls you in for a tender kiss. Your eyes flicker closed as your traitor heart soars from his profession and display of love. The deepest, most secret dream you ever had of Don John giving you your first kiss was now real and it was overwhelming.
He is not the Don John you thought he could be.
With a mournful sob, you push him away. Wiping stray tears from your eyes as you grievously confess. “I once envisioned a life with you, away from titles and scandal. Away from those that dictate who you are without allowing you to grow into something more. I loved you, Don John! Now I see that it merely is not possible. For you have given yourself permission to wallow in your own sorrow like a pig in filth. You sicken me, and I wish to be parted from you.”
Like a candle snuffed out, any vestige of light in his eyes has vanished. He grasps your shoulders in an ironclad grip, his words haunting. “I am afraid, my beautiful bride, that wish shall never be granted.”
His last words seal your fate. “You will be mine.”
With his alarming strength, he hurls both you and himself down the meadow’s hill. You tumble briefly, thankful that you both seemed uninjured–until the next sight makes your breathing stop.
The flowers are golden brown. Don John is hunched over your body with streaks of bronzy pollen across his face, neck, and clothes.
No, no, no! You try clawing away from him, fighting for your life to get to the river that was just a few feet away. If you could just wash the pollen off, maybe you will be fine.
But Don John pushes you down against the ground, causing more clouds of pollen to float in the air like pixie dust. He clambers over you, a wicked smile shaping his face. “You say these flowers will kill us? Be my remedy, then.”
You immediately notice his eyes darkening even further, his pupils are blown wide, almost eclipsing the irises. The pollen is taking effect in him, and you will not be far behind.
Instantaneously, the unmistakable sensation of tingles travel over your body from head to toe. Feeling like your body was being put to sleep and stimulated rendered your mind in a soft daze. Your skin was hot and your clothes felt tight and scratchy.
Don John's lips crash against yours, teeth clacking while his serpentine tongue slithers in and explores your mouth. The traces of pollen taste like lavender and cinnamon–you want to lick it off him.
Dizziness fogged your brain, trembling fingers sank into his broad shoulders, anchoring you to him. A deep sigh rumbles through his chest, causing heat to travel straight to your core. His demanding lips suffocate; his kiss could steal your breath if he did not release you soon.
He finally gives your air back and sits up again, still straddled on top of you. “For you, my love, I would be willing to risk death to grant you a thousand little ones.”*
Long dexterous fingers fumbled with the laces of his white poet shirt before letting out a frustrated growl and tearing it off like a wild beast. Don John’s naked torso was now on full display–a sheen of sweat coats his tanned skin, mixing with the glowing flecks of gold, emphasizing the fine muscles along his shoulders, chest, and abdomen. A vision of ethereal beauty gracing you with his divine being.
Snap out of it now! The last logical thought screams out before you feel his grip on the top of your lacy bodice.
“Be my remedy.” He commands before ripping your bodice with a frenzy bordering on animalistic.
Tossing aside the ruined bodice, he lowers his head and nuzzles between your neck and shoulder. His facial hair tickles while his lips kiss and nibble every surface of your skin they could find. You feel his teeth at the collar of your dress, biting firmly and pulling the material down to expose a breast to the elements.
Latching onto your nipple, he suckles eagerly, a soft moan escaping your lips as he cups the other breast. Once he was satisfied, he revealed the other breast and gave it the same treatment.
“You are blessed,” he murmurs against the peaked nipple. “Your body was made for worship.”
You feel your skirts rucked up, Don John disappearing from your sight. Whimpering at the loss of his warmth, you move to look down and see what he’s doing but you are stopped by his large hand pressing you back onto the ground.
“Angels do not lower themselves for worship,” he whispers before slipping one of your shoes off.
A shiver travels up your body at the caress of his supple lips against your foot. His fingers pulling down your stockings and kissing every centimeter of skin revealed to him. When his kissing trail reaches under your skirts and against your inner thigh, he stops, pulling back and teasing you by repeating his actions with your other leg. You are almost whining for relief, but this is Don John. The man does not grant mercy or relief.
He hikes your skirts up even more, reaching the apex of your thighs once more. Exhaling breathlessly, he rests his head against your heat reverently.
“Your sweet cunt alone could cure me. Now give it to me!” His mouth is on you sucking at your entrance like a starving man. His silver tongue is not just gifted in deceitfulness. The practiced muscle has you shaking and moaning wantonly, his strong arms holding you down and open for his feast.
You soon release a cry of ecstasy, back arching and making your pleasure known to all the wildlife caring to witness.
“You have the face of an angel and the moanings of a harlot–A ruined spirit I would earnestly get on my knees for,” he buries his head back between your legs before you could recover from your orgasm.
He keeps you in perpetual bliss, the effects of the pollen amplifying the tingles and feverish sensations his touch elicits. When he is done writing praises for you with his mouth, he lifts his head–soft lips and facial hair glistening with your essence.
Kisses and bites ascend your body as he replaces his mouth with his fingers. You whimper when his finger breeches your entrance, stretching you. Then he adds a second finger, your eyebrows knitted together at the deeper intrusion. He coos and whispers sweet nothings, grazing your cheek with featherlight pecks.
“A good husband prepares his bride before ravishing her,” A good husband, not a good man…He curls his fingers and you fall into ecstasy all over again.
By his mouth, by his fingers, and only one aspect left to bring you pleasure. He unbuckles his belt and discards his black leather trousers, leaving him as naked as Adam and Eve. If he was handsome fully clothed, he was disarmingly statuesque like a Greek God when naked. You tremble, suddenly comprehending that he was about to be inside you.
Parting your legs when wider, he settles himself comfortably on top of you, eyes burning with hunger. With a harsh grip on your hips, he notches the blunted tip of his member against your core before sinking slowly, agonizingly inside you.
You whine when Don John fills you up completely, your first time evident but desire and lust softens the ache of his invasion. He hisses, feeling your tight heat embrace him.
“You are the first maiden I ever had. Nothing will ever come closer.” his voice rasps, holding back from plundering you mercilessly.
He slowly pulls out, the tip of his cock almost leaving you before slamming back inside roughly. Twigs and drying grass scratch your back but you are too entranced to care. You will worry about bruises and grass stains tomorrow.
“I have been patient, my love,” he bites the sensitive spot in the crook of your neck. “You are mine now, whether you like it or not.”
He places your legs over his shoulders and pushes even deeper than you thought possible. He was not just penetrating your body, he was touching your soul with every inch of his manhood.
Your scream sounded almost pained, Don John's excessive loving kept you overstimulated. Seeing you in such a debauched state at long last gives way to his own release.
His movements become sloppy, hips stuttering as he fills your ears with curses you never thought could be made. When he comes undone, he stills himself. Slowly opening your eyes, you see he is in a state of pure euphoria. Lips parted, eyes closed tight, a soft whimper leaving him. As if the very act of making love to you was a religious experience for him.
Don John was kind enough to carry you away from the infernal golden brown flowers once he could feel the pollen’s influence dwindle. Gently setting you in the cool stream of the river, he set about cleaning off the streaks of flowers, pollen, and his own spend.
“Perhaps I should collect my own supply of this magical aphrodisiac. You will never deny me ever again.” He whispers before giving you a long, possessive kiss.
*The little death, or la petite mort, was a term commonly used during the 16th century and onwards to represent a brief loss of consciousness typically during an orgasm.
A/N: Trying to put my English degree to good use. 😂
Warning: Dub-Con, NSFW-ish, violence, emotional and mental abuse, lookism, birth-based discrimination, cheating, court politics, sexism, violence, creepy and toxic behaviour expected from a yandere situation, manipulation, general medieval schemes and poor attempts at medieval world-building. Narrative style oscillates between past and present.
Dividers by @thecutestgrotto
Imagine being coveted by yandere Don John...
Grossly unedited. GIF credit to the owner.
Unsightly
Ever since you were a child, you had known that you were not the most beautiful girl in the room. Your sisters are more ‘pleasant’ to look at, and your mother always had her hopes pinned on them for securing the best of the matches.
Your sisters had always been beautiful. Absolutely sights for the sore eyes, the painters’ perfect muses and poets’ passion.
You, on the other hand…
As a little girl, you never quite understood the meaning of ‘unsightly’. But it was never pleasant to hear. You understood what it truly meant for you after you celebrated your twelfth name day.
When you stood with your sisters, their dazzling beauty would devastate young squires and noble boys alike. But it meant a clear comparison between you and them.
The ‘unsightly’ might have mellowed down to ‘not the most pleasant’, but you were no longer a little girl. You knew what they meant.
You were more like your grandmother. Your father had told you one night, among the many spent in his company while he worked tirelessly at his desk. He began to teach you a thing or two about taxation and the court. She was not the most pleasant woman to look at, but tactical. And he had no shame in admitting that his sharp sight was shaped by her.
He also did not shy away from letting you know that your marital prospects were dim. You knew what it meant even before your sisters had their heads out of the ballads and courtly odes.
Your mother worried, like every other mother, but her attention shifted to preparing them for their bright prospects. Your father, on the other hand, took it upon himself to teach you more than just sewing an intricate embroidery or learning courtly manners.
You learnt languages, taxation, administration, and diplomacy—you learnt how to be indispensable. You learnt political and social tact, to recognise the situation, the people in and against your favour, and the power of silence and subtlety.
Eventually, you found an approach of your own. You preferred your curiosity over complete cunning; you preferred having a good laugh without any ulterior motives.
Sure, you knew how to navigate an increasingly competitive court better than the maidens of your age when you reached marriageable age. But you found beauty in the uncertainty and pain of existence as well.
You never truly appreciated yourself in front of the mirror. Not your physical beauty, at least. Years of being reminded of your ‘unsightly’ features had at last put their imprint on your mind.
Sure, you found humour in the court and its desperation and enjoyed listening to conversations when people were not overly emphasising ‘womanly duties’. But you could not help the deep sense of isolation that crept into you.
You never received a love letter, never had a suitor, and never were the first choice of a painter or a poet, depending on your father’s patronage. It was always your sister or your brother. They had their perfectly sculpted features from your mother’s lineage. You had her hair and the colour of her eyes. And had inherited her graceful mannerisms.
Your marital prospects were tough. But your father always knew how to get his way. He managed to get you the title of a countess. It was not near the capital—neither was your husband a man in the court. The prospect of one day joining the court might have tempted him to accept the marital alliance of the two families.
You were not naive enough to expect a blissful marriage. But when your husband barely looked at you throughout the wedding ceremony and never came to his chamber for the wedding night, you knew it was a bumpy road ahead.
The next morning, when you were introduced to your chambermaid and the people appointed to take care of the mistress of the house, you were also told that your chamber was all prepared to welcome you. There would be no honeymoon period, no sharing of the bed with your husband for a while.
It was not only disappointing but also insulting—being told to leave his chamber through the servants while your husband refused to show his face.
You realised you had underestimated the chasm to cover, but it only hardened your resolve.
From preparing his favourites to arranging meals and even gifting him a horse, a coveted breed, study, agile, and battleworthy, yet laid-back enough for a leisurely ride. But nothing seemed to thaw the cold shoulder he had stubbornly taken against you.
“It was your father’s…arrangement.” His words had a bitter tinge to them when he spoke of the circumstances that led to the wedding during one of the many meals filled with awkward silence and cold air.
“I’m aware of it. After all, it has gains for both houses. That is the reason you agreed.” You kept a light tone but did not shy away from reminding him of the obvious. Two could play the game; you were not brought up to be a rug on the floor.
Your husband’s eyes flashed when he looked up from his plate, but he said nothing, only diverted the conversation.
“The Duque has sent us an invitation for the evening tomorrow. Do not be a disappointment there.” He bit out.
His words stung, but you sipped your wine and ground your teeth as you watched him march out of the dining hall, his meal barely touched.
Duke John, mostly addressed as ‘Duque’ or ‘Don’ by the nobles, even the common folks—they would follow those ruling over them directly, after all.
You had never met the Duke before. But it was impossible to be kept away from the court whispers— the scandalous birth of his, his rise to become a Count, ‘Conde’ as they mocked quietly. His valour was never easy to miss. He was spoken of with admiration and fear,
You had caught glimpses of him on rare occasions. The light stubble, short hair and brooding yet soft hazel-brown eyes were an unparalleled blend of sweet and rugged, that had many ladies of the court fanning themselves. He was a lean, tall figure, dressed mostly in shades of whites, greens, blues, and leathers.
“He has a boyish charm, does he not?” They would often whisper among themselves, giggling.
You were not of the age for courtship yet, but you remembered this; he was charming to look at, but none of the ladies ever expressed their fondness openly. At times, they even felt ashamed for it.
The memories were often fragmented, though. But you understood the sadness that came with being judged and discriminated against based on something one had no hand in.
You had heard of the way he managed to capture the traitor Duke in the North-Western duchy–a far-away yet valued part of the Kingdom. Shortly after, words of ‘Conde John’ being given the title of a Duke, replacing the previous Duke, came floating to you.
By then, you had reached your full bloom, and your father began to consider finding a match for you. Your sisters already had rings on their fingers— rubies and gold, along with enomoured husbands belonging to powerful families. You saw them having it within the span of three summers.
They had never been cruel to you, they loved you like sisters would. But they were mostly indifferent or oblivious to the comparisons you had been the victim of, ever since you were a little girl. A part of you could not help but turn resentful. But it was a tiny part, and you loved your sisters, your family.
You were the closest to your brother, your confidant and best friend since childhood—the one sibling who truly saw your struggles and always had a hand extended to comfort you.
Especially when there were some veiled jabs about how the Duque would be a fine match for you. They could never dare say anything to your father, but words never ceased floating, and perhaps some people were prone to finding cruel ways to amuse themselves.
At last, the spring came when you were married to the Count
And yet, not even a month into the marriage, and you already yearned to see your family.
Your husband wanted to take the forest road. It was easier and shorter. The carriage wheels began rolling at dawn, and by the time the sun was ready to disappear completely into the vast sky, you could see the outline of the Duke’s grand palace.
The horizon of the whispering woods, the rolling hills stretching beyond, and the meadows and his proud palace walls lightly shrouded by the evening mist.
His Duchy encompassed everything your husband ruled, but under his immediate jurisdiction came a bustling town and two idyllic villages. The town stood nowhere near the Kingdom’s capital, which you were used to, but it was peaceful, beautiful and far less crowded.
People could be unreasonably cruel, you concluded when you saw the flourishing and undisturbed streets of the town. The town seemed well-taken care of. The villagers appeared to be fed. Duke John was doing his duty, excelling at it, even.
The winter snow had thawed, and the last of the frosted grass had resilient indicators of early spring, you noticed when you stepped out of the carriage. You did not get the opportunity to admire them, though. You had to hurry your feet to match your husband’s indifferent pace and plaster a smile to cover up for his demeanour.
Now a Duke and better aged, he stood tall, with slightly thickened beard, longer hair and a more muscular build than your hazy teenage memories could trace back to. He was a regal figure in black. The hardened angles of his face matched with his sharp, observant eyes and the general stoic and calm air about him.
You were composed, yet there remained a slight trepidation in your stomach when your husband introduced you to the Duke. You offered a curtsy and replied to his polite question regarding the journey to his residency.
Duke John was still the quiet man you remembered hearing about as a Count, but seeing him in person, you could sense an air of a calculative man around him.
Yet, he eased into the flow of conversation after a few cups of wine and the delicious array of food served on his table. You saw the sharpness of his eyes soften and the graceful stiffness melt slightly.
You found yourself laughing freely as well, without the feeling the need to put too much work, or lead a conversation with caution. For once, you felt truly heard outside your family. Someone not passing judgment on your capabilities or ‘worth’ solely based on your appearance.
Despite the callous whispers behind your back or wrapped in ‘humour’, you came to believe in your capabilities. You might be unsightly in people’s eyes, but you knew the court and you knew administration, along with four different languages and having a secret talent and love for riding horses.
You preferred the stallions, not always easy to tame and keep in check, but you prided yourself on having a good hand at taming them without using much of the whip. It always felt cruel to you.
Besides, the bond formed with those beautiful creatures was unlike any other. They understood you, they never passed judgments on your ‘unsightliness’.
The Duke had been kind to you; he seemed to be a kind man overall. Perhaps slightly stiff at times and guarded, but when you managed to crack the walls slightly, you forgot to count the candles being burnt one after another to keep the dining hall lit up.
He was nothing like the cold, calculative and cruel man the court loved to spin tales about. You were not naive. You knew he had to be tactful and perhaps even brutal to sit on a Duke’s chair.
But he was a man who made you feel seen and feel like a person– a complete being comprising of layers, emotions, interests, not just a face that was expected to be pretty and now was a disappointment through and through.
You assumed that the Duke, famous for his solitary nature, would be a rare sight at gatherings, balls and festivities. But you were pleasantly surprised to see him there more often than expected.
The yearly and monthly invitations that were politely declined with a token of appreciation sent were now being accepted, and it often made the hosts more anxious.
Not because they respected him–no, they were all about painted smiles and snide remarks whispered and muttered. However, he was still the Duke of one of the most important provinces of the Kingdom, and the nobles had good enough sense not to go out of their way to disrespect him.
Every time his gaze met yours, he acknowledged you with a nod, the sharpness of his eyes seemed to be a part of imagination—why would they soften just for you?
Guilt gnawed at your chest when you felt the flutter in your heart every time you crossed paths with him—it was faint at first. One butterfly barely grazing its soft wings against your hardened stomach.
And yet you felt nothing short of deep empathy for the Duke who was addressed as ‘Duque’, and if someone was feeling bold enough, ‘Don’. This was a blatant disrespect.
But you could no longer stand it in one of the many grand balls in the Kingdom. Duke John was one of the few people whose eyes had never assessed your worth by your ‘unsightliness’.
So when your husband bowed to him and greeted him using the term ‘Duque’ in his perfect Spanish, like all other nobles under the golden chandeliers, you dared to step forward, addressing him as ‘Duke’.
The hall fell into a brief hush, and you barely held back a scoff. Your husband gave you a piercing glance but covered it quickly. His shoulders remained tense, though. But you could not bring yourself to care. Why would you care for a crowd that reeked of hypocrisy and holloweness?
But when you looked up, you were powerless to contain the gasp (thankfully quiet). Duke John had no smile or softness, but his eyes seemed darker than an abyss, and you could not help but think if you had tossed a forbidden dice? Picked something unknown, dangerous even.
It was as if his eyes had stripped you bare of thoughts and inhibitions and left you no choice but to sink to your knees and surrender as your most vulnerable, truest self was right before his eyes– exposed, unguarded.
That night, you thought of him longer than you ever had, and every time you closed your eyes, his deep, dark stare would appear, leaving your throat parched and your body tense.
You thought you could do away with it. It would fade away with time, and you could focus on doing your duty and understanding the County.
Your husband was not only neglectful of you, but of his County as well. And this was the perfect opportunity for you to turn truly indispensable. Your marriage was not going anywhere. Even after months, the wedding was yet to be consummated
But when Duke John began to frequent your County, the butterflies only grew in numbers and the flutter turned to a strange heat—one you never experienced for your husband, even after months of marriage.
This heat was different from the warmth in your heart. The heat was in the shade of his dark eyes, you felt it on yourself even when your back was turned. The heat travelled to your abdomen and filled your mind with his thoughts and glimpses in your nightly dreams.
You were not oblivious. You felt how his stare lingered when he assumed you never noticed. His presence stretched beyond necessary.
Yet, for all his stoic demeanour and the graceful enigma he carried himself with, the melancholic air within him felt so deeply familiar, it was almost innate. Like still water, you were afraid to disturb; you could only peer at the surface, hoping to see deeper.
You knew it was a dangerous thing to do. But you told yourself that there was no harm, after all. You were curious, and the Duke was indeed intriguing.
That was until you caught your chambermaid looking through your letters one day. You did not confront her right away, you had to be clever about it. You were suspicious that she was a spy from the enemy territory. She had been working in the palace long before being made your chambermaid.
You followed her instead. And when she met with the stable boy, clearly relying on information, you hid behind the shadows and waited for the right moment. It came when the stable boy rode away into the darkness
It was then that you confronted her. Threatening to throw her into the dungeons and send away her little brother to work in the treacherous ore mines in the remote lands. She relented, falling on her knees for the sake of her little brother.
Turned out, she had been working as the Duke’s informant for a while. He liked to keep an eye on those under his jurisdiction.
“What are his intentions with the Count?” You demanded.
You felt strangely detached from the situation, almost horrified at the realisation that you cared little about your husband, not even a quarter of how concerned you were regarding securing your position and your family’s influence.
The prospect of cementing your title by reproducing an heir seemed challenging. But you could take up the political role. Take care of his County while he drank himself to sleep in his mistress’ arms.
You had already become versed in the County’s administration and had made up your mind to open a centre for teaching.
You were not sure of the Duke’s intentions and did not trust the maid. So you did what you needed to. Sent her brother away to the country manor belonging to your father. It was the temporary set-up for the pupils until the centre was constructed.
The woman loved her brother, and you saw no better to have her under your thumb. The boy would be educated and become a gentleman, while she would be working for you.
It soon became clear to you, though, that the Duke had an interest in you. Not your husband, his county, his closest associates, but…you.
You allowed the pieces of information regarding your spiralling marriage to be passed on to him unfiltered.
You did not wish to admit it, but your actions never failed to remind you that you were playing a dangerous gamble.
It was dangerous to consume special herbs before the nights your husband decided to visit your chamber.
He was doing his duty and never cared about even trying to make it pleasurable for you. But you felt relieved to know that his seed would never take root in your womb.
It was dangerous to instruct the chambermaid to keep the Count’s wine flowing— he would be either too drunk to care about visiting your chamber, or too engrossed with his mistresses to even overlook the happenings of the County.
You knew you were playing a dangerous game when you paid a discreet visit to his favourite. A widow of a lord of lower standing. You made a pact with her that she could keep your husband’s attention and the gifts he lavished her with. But she must keep his attention away from his administration and be distanced from his close associates.
You told yourself that after almost a year of the wedding, his regular jibes and blatant disrespect had finally gotten to you. You told yourself you were doing everything to become indispensable and ensure your family’s position and influence.
You tried to make things better. God knew you did. But the final state broke when he shamelessly showed concern over the appearance of the child when you gave birth to one-
“My bloodline shall perish if, God forbid, my children share your… features.”
“What do you mean?” You asked lowly, hands already moving to tie back your gown
You had flower petals put on the bed, fragrant oils rubbed all over you.
You made sure that you were in your best appearance. All this, only for him to refuse to bed you until most of the candles were snuffed out.
“I am merely plagued by the thought—”
“By what? That your children be hideous? You find me so unsightly, don’t you? Why keep this garb? Say it here, in front of me.”
“You're stirring yourself up for nothing.”
“Nothing?” Your voice raised, “I am the only one there who labours for this marriage to be something!” Your voice rose further before cracking while tears filled your eyes.
“You know the prospects are dim in this world for the unsightly. My concerns are not silly thoughts; they sit heavy with me.”
"If so concerned, why say yes to this marriage? Did my father not send you my portrait?”
“It is a strategic alliance! I get to join the court, and when the time comes, I will think about supporting your father for a seat in the council.”
“My father is no desperate beggar.”
“He was desperate to get rid of you, though. But I understand.” Your hand twitched, your ears heated, and a tear escaped your eye.
In a manner, perhaps it was some sort of heartbreak. You were expecting at least a peaceful friendship, understanding. You thought he would thaw. Maybe you both could find love someday.
But what truly made your knees weaken was how humiliated you felt. And there was no trace of regret on his arrogant face. You had simply nodded.
“Let us get this done away then. Do our duty.” You did not care if he could hear the venom in your voice; the marriage was dead to you already.
You let your tears flow that night when he was emptying inside you, and you felt no different than the bed you two were on.
Something in you snapped in you that night. You could not allow yourself to be treated like that. You were an (L/N), and you held yourself with pride like the rest of the L/Ns.
You were unsure what you were playing at, asking the chambermaid to add and omit some things. The Count visited you at least once a month, but you instructed her to tell the stable boy that the visits were rare and held no pattern.
You had yet to find out the real reason for the Duke’s interest in you. Perhaps it was your family? You did not know, and had no answer.
Until Duke John visited for a short stay in your county during the onset of autumn. When the trees were turning away from the bright greens and bending into hues of the sunset as the harvest neared. The cold nipped your skin slightly sharper, and it rained more often–ice on skin, frost on the ground.
Disturbing the softened beds of the autumn soil, came riding the Duke on the most majestic stallion you had ever seen. The gorgeous beast that it was– its ebony shone proudly under the early autumn sun, visibly strong, built for war and long days.
And as reluctant as you were to admit it, you felt like spring had knocked on your lonely doors for the second time of the year. His gentle eyes were aster blooms.
While you did love the garden of your palace, you limited your visits during the colder days.
Yet you found yourself lingering around the garden more. You told yourself that you needed to keep up with the discussions regarding the borders. After all, it was you who took care of the county, not your husband. His nights were…busy.
Every time your eyes met the Duke’s, you showed him due respect and smiled too, having eased in his presence. Yet something did stir within you. You were afraid of it. You refused to even think of it.
But the thoughts would slither into your dreams and waking mind alike– thoughts of the Duke, and sometimes, you thought if he would be a good husband to his wife. He seemed to be a good man. But ever since you caught your chambermaid, you had been cautious.
Not sure what you were playing at, but deep down, you simply doid not wish to admit it.
The heat in his eyes warmed you in ways you could never share with another soul. In the eyes of the people, you had to keep the reputation of a good wife, after all.
And a good wife would never carry another man’s thoughts to bed. A good wife would never touch herself thinking of a man who wasn’t her husband.
A good wife would not allow herself to be close to another man, all alone in the study during late hours, when there were no guards stationed or servants around.
Yet you did. Night after night. You could have easily taken scrolls back to your chamber after the first night. When Duke John stood at the doorway, the jest in the conversation suddenly broke into cackling tension in the air with one sentence.
Not the kind to draw swords, but the one to sit on one’s lips and long for another.
It was tempting to be in the presence of a man whose eyes seemed to see beyond your ‘unsightliness’.
Deep down, you always knew that you were not hideous, simply not as striking as your siblings, or any woman expected to be of your standing. But the lifelong emphasis on your lack of beauty left a deep impact on you.
The fact that no one, not even your husband, saw your value beyond your skin made your blood boil at times. It was a rage stemming out of pain, and it stayed, not erupting but simmering just below the surface, as if waiting for something to break through every rational and moral thought remaining.
And the surface did break. It broke on the fourth night of you being alone in the study with John. He leaned in to kiss you first, but you did not pull away. It was his hand sliding up to your thigh, bunching up your gown, but it was you who shoved the scrolls and quills away to make room to sit on the heavy desk and gave him space to stand between your legs.
It was a moment of frenzy, truly. But you were not completely lost– intensely tempted, yet coherent. It was becoming clear that he might be simply interested in you. But you could not let yourself believe that a man of his standing would risk too much for a woman like you.
You could risk your fall based on assumptions. So you stopped. Despite how loving and desperate his hands felt, how reverent his lips were, you stopped and you stopped him. You were surprised at how far you let him take this, but not as shocked or even nearly as ashamed as you pretended to be.
Leaving him standing there and rushing out of the room, ignoring the yearning and desperation in his voice when he called after you. You wish your heart did not feel the pinch at his voice, but the ache bloomed, and you hissed.
Thinking with your heart had brought you only pain and humiliation. You refused to make the same mistake again.
You could not sleep that night, waiting for a sign. If it were merely lust, then he would probably walk away with wounded pride and despise your whole being for the rest of his days. But you dared to hope that it was something more.
And just before the crack of dawn, a letter slipped in through the gap between your chamber’s doors and the floor. You tried to be quiet on your feet as you rushed to get it, only to find a pair of pearl earrings hidden under the folds. They were beautiful, and so were his words.
The letter was all the push you needed.
You knew nothing would come out of your marriage with the Count. Besides, you could use his mistress to keep him away from his associates for so long. They were filling his ears for a divorce, and you refused to be the ‘unwanted wife’, stripped of her titles and powers.
For the first time, you were at the receiving end of flattering words–not shallow, though–they were deep and moving. You did not consider yourself stone-hearted. But after the failure of your marriage, which also crushed all future prospective love, you had grown wary and kept your walls up.
You chose your mind, not your heart. You now thought with your head intact on your shoulders, trying to think of every possibility and perspective all at once.
And yet, there was something so honest, melancholic and unsettling about the letter and his confessions of love. It seemed as if fate had landed an opportunity straight on your lap.
But you were no erratic fool. You had to know. Actions spoke more than words, and Duke John could well be a master of letters. Who knew?
So you wore the earrings to see him off, deliberately keeping your hair down, yet easy on your ears, some movements or a breeze could reveal the delicate pearls.
You watched the darkness flash in the Duke’s eyes and then followed relief. It was swift, so you did not let your gaze linger before he left.
The letters came. They kept coming. Your chambermaid delivered each one of them discreetly to you. But you did not write back. You knew that you had to be crafty. Patience was a virtue, after all. And you learnt this from your father.
Meanwhile, you let her convey bits and pieces about you and your hopeless marital situation to the Duke, adding things subtly, tactfully. Like the Count regularly bringing his mistresses home and having no shame in criticising your appearance, even outside the chamber doors.
In reality, your husband rarely brought any of his mistresses to the palace, preferring to meet them at their place or in the hunting lodge deep in the woods instead. He was too concerned for his reputation to criticise you outside the chamber doors. But it was painfully apparent that it was a loveless marriage.
The little bending of words would be impactful in the long run, you knew.
Duke John seemed infatuated with you for reasons you struggled to decipher and believe sometimes. But you knew if you played your cards right, you could not only elevate your social standing but also open opportunities for your family.
Your father did not favour the Duke— not because of his birth, but due to the knowledge that once the crown Prince ascended the throne, the Duke and his allies in the court would be at risk of losing their heads or titles. Perhaps both.
But you saw him differently. No longer under your father’s shadow, you saw that the tide was changing. The eldest Prince was reckless, and yet his mother pushed for his name for the throne, since he would be an easy puppet.
The court was evolving—the loyalties were shifting. The second Prince’s name was being whispered in discretion.
This was an opportunity because, as you had heard, the second Prince was closer to the King, the father, and the King trusted Duke John.
You knew that your patience bore fruit when the Duke invited you and your husband to the annual winter celebrations.
You knew your patience bore fruit when you felt him follow you to your chamber.
You knew your patience bore fruit when you saw his burning eyes.
You were not ashamed to admit that it intimidated you. Turned your heartbeat erratic and your throat slightly dry. But there was no stepping back now. It was a wildfire you started.
You thought you had everything laid out as you wanted. It was your court. You thought you were in complete control.
But you were humbled as soon as his lips touched you. You should have known that would be your undoing. He almost had you before, and it left you burning for more. This time, his hold was much firmer, and your will was not as strong as you thought. His voice was a siren’s call– and you were a careless victim.
You were lying underneath him before you knew it. You should have pushed him away. That was what you were to do. To tempt and turn him more desperate than ever. To see how far he was willing to go.
But the moment you watched his eyes look at you with a poet’s admiration and a beast’s hunger, you were in tears. Every rational thought and restraint flew away, and you surrendered to his deft tongue and fingers. The battle within you turned muffled with the fog of lust, pleasure and something beyond.
You learnt what making love truly felt like, what was so intensely pleasurable about a man appreciating your body. You screamed and cried– not out of anguish, resentment or rage– it was unadulterated pleasure.
The fire in your veins burned down and dissolved all thoughts but his. His tongue, his lips, his fingers, his manhood. Each movement was dedicated to you. You felt it. And you wanted more. He was everything a woman would want.
At dawn, when you woke to your senses after a deep, peaceful sleep in his arms, you were frozen for a moment. The sudden fear that he would not want you anymore since he had already had you, weighed down your stomach.
When he left your chamber before the first rays of dawn, he seemed genuinely sad at having to do so. But in your two years as a countess, you had learnt to never trust appearance. It could all be an act. And you had given away your best card.
You returned to the county with stiff shoulders, tension coiled in your whole body until you remembered that you had promised him to write to him.
It was your final and the most risky gamble. But you were ready to take the risk. You deserved better. You wanted better. You would be a Duchess and a beloved wife.
It was risky, but you wrote back–the letter tucked carefully between folds of a pair of clothes with rare embroidery. If your gamble was right, the letter should be the one to finally push John over the edge.
Your days remained tense when there was no response. But you continued to instruct the chambermaid to let the stable boy have pieces and bits regarding your deteriorating relationship with the Count.
Something in you had you compelled to pull out the letters John had sent you over the months and read them through the night and the next day. You were growing steadily desperate. You wanted this marriage annulled before the count had the chance to do it. That would put you and your family at a disadvantageous position.
You had taken a leap in the dark because you wanted to have everything you knew you deserved.
But it had begun to feel as if you were falling down, even though you tried to keep calm.
And yet it all came crashing down the night you carelessly left the letters on your desk in the chamber, for your husband to discover them when he came there, unannounced. You had been gone for only a short while. But that was enough hell to break loose.
And it did.
“You WHORE! You disloyal bitch! How long has this been going?” He was drunk, but strong enough to yank you by your hair.
“You do not get to touch me! You are not a man enough to be my husband––”
The slap cracked on your skin like lightning, but you refused to make a sound to show your pain. If anything, it fuelled your rage.
“I slept with him. The night of the winter festivities, I slept with him. And he was more of a man than you could ever be!" You spit out, and you had never felt a greater relief.
Even when his hand was on your neck, the next moment, squeezing to the point that made you choke. Your chambermaid returned just in time, pulling him off. But he turned his fury on her, backhanding her.
“Leave her out of this, you coward!” You pushed him to the ground, which sent his eyes blazing.
But before he could retaliate, a heavy fist knocked on the chamber doors “My Lord, Duke John is here with armed men and demands to see you.” The guard’s voice held urgency, but you almost cried in relief.
Still raging and drunk enough not to decipher the danger, he rushed to yank open the doors and ordered his guards to see to the situation.
“Go, go, find him and let him know that my husband has discovered the letters, hurry, go!” You whispered to your chambermaid, urging her to slip away while your husband’s attention was diverted.
He was seething when he turned his attention back to you “He is here for you, isn’t he? That bastard for his hideous whore!”
You said nothing, eyeing him cautiously, ready to defend yourself anyway you needed. It was the most deranged you had seen him.
You had to keep him from slipping away. At least until John found him.
“You had mistresses, too. You resented this marriage, you despised me and yet here you stand, wailing like a child who had lost his toy.”
“You vile woman! You will regret this transgression.”
“Not with my father still in court, I would like to see you try putting me on trial.”
“Oh, there would be no trial for a dead wife and letters left behind.” He hissed, pulling at your hair again.
“You are digging your grave.” You growled out, clawing at his hand, reaching out for the letter-opener on the desk behind you.
The distinct sound of armour clanking was faint along with the muffled grunts, but they broke through the thick air of the palace
You did not know what he was thinking– if he was mad with fury, or simply drunk out of his senses, but he pushed you away and marched out of the chamber. Unarmed and raging with the letters still clutched in his hand.
“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” You heard him holler as he marched further into the darkened hallway. You listened closely when he cried out in accusation, but he was cut off midway.
You knew it was John, and something in you knew that your husband probably regretted stepping out unarmed. But you could not bring yourself to care. Moments later, John walked in. The letters were safely in his hand, but bloodied. He reeked of blood, but you were so elated, you could throw yourself in his arms.
“John…” You realised your cheeks were damp and bruised when it hurt to smile.
But it did not matter. Nothing mattered when his raging eyes met yours as he rushed to you, cupping your unharmed cheek and pulling you to a kiss that made you surrender.
You melted into his arms, feeling the crushing weight of fear, exhaustion and the throbbing pain. But you knew it was over. You knew were safe.
“H–he found out and—” you stuttered out, still recovering from what had transpired.
But when he assured you that he ‘took care of it’, you believed him.
You were surprised and confused when he tossed away the letters into the fire, and he filled you in about your husband’s apparent ‘treason’. You knew something was wrong, but could not think deeper at the moment.
You accepted the letter he handed to you. A letter that was written in your hand, but you knew you had never written. But you went ahead with it anyway. Seeing that the situation had already spiralled out of your hands. All that was left was to follow the currents.
You hid your confusion and relief under your shock and fear when it was revealed that the King had sent John and his most trusted knight to bring your husband, and that your husband was dead.
You had no sympathy left in your heart for the man who lay bloody in the hallway. You were, though, slightly unsettled by the manner of his death. The corpse stared back at you vacantly as you walked past it.
“Don’t look,” John whispered into your ear.
With the royal knight and his men already gone, John took the liberty of holding you close to your shoulder. Your husband’s body was to be taken to the capital. The trial was already conclusive. There was not much to be done.
“Clear all of this. Take him away. The rest of you, prepare a carriage,” he ordered the guards, who quickly went to carry out their duties.
You spent your journey in silence and solitude. You were grateful for it. You needed time to let the events of the night sink in. John rode his stallion, never straying too far from the carriage.
Duke John was a man who preferred the peace of solitude and silence. But the silence made you uneasy this time. Even when he sat on his knees to tend to your bruises himself after returning to his residence.
In your time in the carriage, you had managed to string together the events and words, realising what was truly at play.
“Is all this your making, my Duke?” You managed to gather the courage to ask, having realised and witnessed his sword and mind at play.
It was dangerous. But you would be lying to yourself if you were not impressed, or felt something akin to a thrill slithering faintly down your spine.
“Sweetheart, you left me no choice. You wish to repent? We can repent together. I, for not acting sooner and letting you slip away, and you, for tormenting me.”
That was all the confirmation you needed to know that the leap in the dark was never in vain. You had made the right gamble. It should have frightened you, but you deemed that it was something you could handle, looking at everything that was about to land right on your lap.
You could put down your guard and surrender to this man someday. He deserved it. He could have you.
This man, despite his tact, his hard-earned power and brutal sword, was on his knees for love. For you.
Maybe one day, he would restore your belief in love as well, make you think with your heart now and then.
For once, it was you who was the subject of true deep admiration. Unsettling, but that, you believed, would be no harm.
“Oh, John…I thought I would never see you again.” Despite every bent circumstance and twisted words, you meant those.
You were brave enough to acknowledge that you meant it from your heart when you cupped his cheeks and kissed him.
It was a sweet disaster from there. The salve forgotten, and clothes discarded. He had you in his arms again. This time, it was your conscious surrender.
Sounds of desire and the delicious pleasure filled the air. The evident sheen over your naked, tangled bodies, and the sensation akin to floating that only his safe arms could give you, told the tale.
You had won the war, there was only a battle to handle ahead— changing your father’s mind regarding John’s prospects and standing.
Days later, your father rode to Duke John’s palace to take you back home. Your sweet home near the capital. The trial, the letter and the public honour your family received on your behalf kept him from reaching sooner. He could have sent your brother, but John had a letter sent, exclusively inviting your father.
He was laying the perfect trap, you realised when your stay under the Duke’s roof extended beyond what would be considered ‘appropriate’ in the societal eyes.
Even though not a soul would tell how the Duke sat by your side for every meal. Not a soul would tell how every night, he would walk into your chamber, and the hallways would echo with jovial laughter and squeals before erupting into mewls, screams and grunts.
There were only a handful allowed in that part of the palace. Your secret Eden. Where only the most trusted dwelt.
The day your father arrived, you went running into his arms. You had missed him, and so did he.
“My Darling, my brave child. When did you grow up so much?”
“When I was married to the wrong man.” You whispered into his chest. A part of you was perhaps slightly resentful towards your family, too.
“Oh, my love. If I had known…If I had—”
“Count (L/N). I have heard nothing but great tales of you.” John stepped closer, welcoming him.
“Your Grace,” your father let go of you, bowing in respect, “I cannot think of any manner that would be adequate to express my gratitude.”
John smiled, “You are very kind and admired. I see where your daughter attained her best traits from.” He smiled and glanced at you before meeting your father's eyes again. “May I have a word with you in private?” John showed him the way towards his study.
You paced around your chamber for hours. You knew John was a skilled negotiator, but you knew your father and his ambitions as well. You hoped that he could see the potential the alliance between the Duke and your family held.
When your father came to your chamber, he was quiet “Are you ready to go? We are heading for the capital. The King wishes to thank you in person, child.”
You sighed and nodded. You had no reason to stay. But when John came to see you off, and had no frown or tension in his jaws, you knew that he was victorious, and it filled you with relief.
“I am summoned as well. I shall arrive in the capital soon. You can be brave for me till then, can you not?” His voice was no more than a discreet whisper, and you could only nod.
Once inside the carriage and off towards the destination, your father finally spoke.
“He has proposed marriage. Now, I know you might need time to mourn–”
“I do not think so.” You looked into his assessing eyes before it lit with realisation.
“You think he would be good to you, my child?”
“I know he would.” You admitted quietly. No guilt, or shame “If it is his position you worry about, you should remember that his dearest friend is the hand of the King; he has the King’s confidence as well. The court has softened towards him, and his military might is unmatched. The Kingdom needs him more than ever.” You added
“It is the small council that truly matters.”
“And he can make your dreams come true.”
Your father sighed, “You truly are your grandmother’s blood. Grew up within two springs?”
You responded with a faint smile, “I had to do what I had to do.”
“Why should we put our trust in him?”
“Back home, how many stallions did I own, father?”
“They are still yours. They miss you. But why do you ask?”
“Just tell me. How many?”
“Seven.”
“And their temperaments? How are they now?”
“They understand, corporate even. But none yield to anyone like they yielded to you. Your bond was different.”
You looked outside, gazing at the horses trotting by the carriage.
“I prided myself for taming them like no one could. I love them, sure. But I loved the fact that they were tamed by me, more.”
“I find riddles more challenging with age, child.”
You turned to look at him with a chuckle, “John is the most majestic, fierce yet untamed stallion out there. Runs on his own conditions, at his own pace, and people are fooled into mistaking it as obedience. He’s tactful, not obedient.”
“There’s a difference between a man and a stallion, love. Could you tame the Count?”
“Tch. he wasn’t half a man, and way beyond my reach. I was tired and disgusted by him.”
“What about the Duke? You think you can tame a man like him?”
“I believe I already did. I do not want a puppet. Just the husband I deserve.”
“Had it been a treason after all?” He asked all the right questions.
“The count got what he deserved.”
Your father sighed and nodded. You did not miss the flash of pride in his eyes.
At the capital, you were welcomed by the most trusted knight of the King and were presented before him. The King thanked you and bestowed more lands on your family. But the best win was when your brother was given the county to rule, once belonging to your husband.
While your father did not speak to the King regarding the Duke’s proposal. When John came to the capital, you struggled to contain your smile. It was he who informed the King and sought his blessing for the wedding. The King had no reason to deny his son this happiness.
With the monarch’s approval, there was no objection left to be put forward. John’s loyalty to the King was rewarded with a grand wedding, and you walked into the chapel under the fresh Spring sun.
Oh, to have the groom’s eyes on you, fused with heat and tenderness. So delicate in balance, it seemed he was on weaker restraints. But he was patient. You admired that about him.
It truly felt like a wedding. You experienced how it felt to be a desired and admired bride. You stared at your reflection for the longest that morning. You could at last do it. You admired yourself.
His vows never felt shallow or squeezed out, nor did his eyes have a spectre of doubt. You were admired and desired. Wanted, there was nothing to doubt anymore. You believed him. He gave you every reason to.
The kiss that bound you two was tender yet no lacking in passion. Neither did he attempt to hide his admiration. There whispers, sniggers and even admiration. But it was your day of victory, and nothing mattered.
The celebration continued when you returned to his palace as its mistress–the duchess. Beaming with pride after hearing whispers of your father’s possible entrance into the King’s council.
You finally won.
You affirm yourself, remembering everything that led you to this seat by the Duke, as his beloved duchess, his adored wife. His hands have found ways to keep touching you throughout the celebrations–innocuous but unabashedly loving.
You finally have earned what you always deserved. It is almost as real as a fairytale when you pull yourself back from the twisted memory lane. From the unsightly to the admired.
“Tell me you love me.” Your new husband leans in, whispering his demand into your ear, as you both watch the celebrations.
You turn to him with a smile, “You are everything I ever wanted, my most noble Duke, my husband,” and kiss him, offering him nothing but the truth.
But you knew that he was the man you could fall in love with. You would, of course, you would.
Why would those sweet brown eyes not enchant you with their depths and devotion?
How long would your heart be able to keep its guards against the reverent lips, the deft, long fingers and the delicious lips?
How much would you be able to hold back against the pleasure you feel when he fills you to the brim? When do you feel loved and appreciated?
You know you will melt like a burning candle soon. It is inevitable with a man like John.
You love your stallions too– adore them. But first, you tamed them.
Duke John was much more than a stallion, actually. But it is irresistible to tame the beast in him. Make it yield to no one but you. You will love that beast too. You will eventually come to love all of him— the light, the dark, the ugly.
But only after you have made sure to make your position impossible to challenge. Then, you will ease him into you– show him the good, the bad, the shrewd in you. You know a man like him will appreciate your tact, and the woman you have come to be after your challenging first marriage– a sad affair before the ultimate victory.
“I love you. You know that, don't you?”
You smile, gazing into his sincere eyes, “I would not dare doubt you on this.” You admit with a knowing smile.
****
Phew...This was long. And Tumblr, for some reason,n was being tricky. Anyway, here it is, the final part. Don John and the events from the reader's perspective.
Grab your sleeping bag, put on your bug-spray, and don’t forget the s’mores—Camp Keanuverse is officially open. But watch your back… there’s something in the woods. Something that knows what you did last summer. 🔪
📍 THE DETAILS
📅 Event runs: July 1st through Midnight July 31st EST
📼 Format: fanfics, imagines, drabbles, playlists, art, moodboards, the more the better!
💀 Theme: summery spooky horror filled fun with your favorite Keanu characters.
🪦 All genres welcome—fluff, angst, smut, you name it!
🌲 Simply spin the summerween inspiration wheels below to get started! Already got an idea of what you want to write? That’s absolutely fine as long as you stay on theme!
🏷️ Tag all posts: #keanuverse: summerween and make sure to tag @97keanu so I can make a masterlist of all your wonderful work at the end!
Do you wanna play a game?
🩸The Who:
Choose your Keanu.
📼The When:
Choose your Summer Era.
🔪The Where and What:
Choose some prompts to mix and match! Choose as many or little as you wish, along with a fluffy list for those who wanna keep their summerween blood free ❤️
Your Horror Movie Alternate Universe.
Horror Movie Kinky Tropes.
Horror Movie Quotes.
Fluffy summerween prompts.
🎧 Songs of the summer!
Playlists to get your creative thoughts flowing tailored to your decade!
Summerween in the 70s.
Summerween in the 80s.
Summerween in the 90s.
Summerween in the 2000s.
So, come join the fun and tell your spooky stories around the campfire with us, we’re dying to see you!
Assigning specific gifs with specific scenarios to Yandere!Keanu characters: (requested by @gea-chan96 🖤/ NSFW-DARK THEMES!)
This one:
With:
Useless to say, he’s a very violent yandere. He’s the type to scare his darling to death or even slap them. He’s a kidnapper type of yandere, too.
This one:
With:
Donaka is a possessive and manipulative yandere, he would probably become your sugar daddy as a way to lure into your life and make you trust him. Not a kidnapper, uses sex as punishments.
This one:
With:
KING OF KIDNAPPERS! He’s a possessive and jealous yandere, yet gentle. Gives you rules and acts authoritative. I imagine a Daddy/Little Girl dynamic. His punishments are bdsm-ish. Loves to use his belts on you.
This one:
With:
HEAR ME OUT-Not a kidnapper, but an husband!Yandere. He hides his dark side until your marriage and you both moving to NY. He’s a public denigrator/public sex type of punisher. Spanks you on his desk at work, touches your ass at parties in front of everyone…and muuuuch worse.
This one:
With:
IN MY DON JOHN BRAINROT. I mean- it’s the 16th century so a man has no need to be possessive over a woman since they were already seen as a property but…making you marry him as soon as he can, talking to your fathers about marrying you without your consent, making you wear what he likes on you, always standing right next to you at parties, always having trusted men around you when he’s away (he’s a soldier after all)…do I need to say anything else?
Author's Note: THIS ONE IS REALLY GOOD TRUST ME. So, in this writing I included Shakespeare dialogue style in it but if some of you want to read it more smoothly you can focus on the bold text, their meaning. At first, I want to add Shakespeare writing style for every dialogue but I think it's gonna be too long and maybe useless?? So I tried to change the language to be more beautiful instead; more formal?? So enjoy guys, I really love this one.
Credits: -
The place where it is located on the hills in Messina, a port city on the island of Sicily. The big house which is full of vineyards and gardens is owned by Don John's father. He's a rich nobleman who is one of the most richest man in Sicily. A man name Don Predo is the next descendant and Don John is his half- younger brother.
You're one of the servants that his father fostered from an orphanage. He gave his servants chances to not end up or stuck their life in the cage of the orphanage, to have better life or at least have money for their own. You always appreciate his grace for adopting you. You wouldn't have such a better life if he wasn't gave you a chance. At least you don't have to stuck there forever, here you have good friends, food and a nice place to sleep every night. That's enough, you don't need much. Greediness isn't in your blood.
Everything sounds perfect except the fact that his son name Don John, who is arrogant and selfish unlike his older brother. So, the relationship between you and him is not quite well. You are not get along with him since you were young, even he is around your age. He always treats you badly even he seems to treat you better when you both grow up. However, you can't do anything at all because he is also one of your masters and the grace that you have for his father is so strong. Moreover, you are the most beautiful servant in this house, everyone knows that. Some of his guests or his friends that come to his house always compliment you in the way you look or your manners;
“Fair maiden, thy beauty doth outshine the sun and mock the stars, a visage fit for royalty, not menial tasks!” - “Lady, your beauty shines from the sun and mocks the stars. A face fit for a royal family not a disrespectful job!”
“Nay, I curse not fate, nor fortune's cruel hand, but the very stars that cast thee in this lowly role! Thou wert born to grace a noble house, not serve within these walls...” - “No, I didn't curse fate or the cruel hands of fortune but it is the stars that cast you in this humble role! You were born to honor noble houses. Do not serve within these walls…”
“By heavens, mine eyes have never gazed upon such a vision! Beauty unparalleled, a sweetness that doth charm the very air, a presence that draws me like the moon upon the tide, and a heart, I do believe, as gentle as a summer's morn! Surely, fate itself did weave this tapestry, bringing us together on this blessed day. To meet thee, fairest lady, is an honor beyond compare.” - “By heaven, my eyes have never stared at such a vision! Unrivaled beauty The sweetness that attracts the air, a presence that draws me in like the moon at the tide, and my heart, I believe, is as gentle as a summer's morning! Of course fate itself has woven this tapestry. Bringing us together on this happy day, meeting you, lady. It is an honor that cannot be compared.”
“Fair lady, should my humble offer find no favor in thine eyes, then know this: my heart shall conquer any obstacle to claim thee as my wife.” - “Lady, if my humble offer finds no favor in your sight. Know this: my heart will overcome any obstacle to claim you as my wife.”
they all offer you to have a beautiful better life, to be their wife. However, you always end up rejecting them because you do love it here, this place is like your house now and the fact that you want to repay this kindness for his father until you die. You have an oath to yourself that you will not leave this house until his father tells you so or his father matches you with someone to marry to. He is like a real father for you meanwhile he also treats you like his real daughter.
The sound of the music playing in the background, under the sky with many stars. It's such a beautiful night. Tonight, there are many guests come from all directions around Italy to celebrate Don John's birthday. His father ordered his servants to prepare, decorate and cook for this masquerade party. You and your colleagues are done with the things his father desired. The masquerade came out good as you wish it was.
The sound of giggling and laughing behind the wall seems a little loud that his father could hear it. It's the sound of you and your friends giggling and laughing, looking at the party. Obviously, they all want to join even you. However, they are still servants, they know their place. They are not supposed to be there which is not their place. It would be like that if they live in other houses, not this house where Don John's father lives. “My people.” The similar sound comes from behind them. “Come. Come join the masquerade with me. You have this right to do and I will force you to if you still insist to stay here.” He said it as a joke. He won't actually force anybody to go if the person's will is to stay here. However, they all laugh and jump with happiness when he allows them to join. “Go get dress beautifully and have fun. Oh- there are many left masks on the table at the hallway. Grab them and join.” He smiled before leaving. The servants immediately run into the shower door and get ready to join the masquerade.
Soon, you're in your white dress, the dress that his father gave you in your previous birthday which he gave it to all of his servants when they turn twenty, he said 20th year is the year of change. You will have to overcome or face with many things in your life. So, wearing beautiful dress at least it will make you have confidence in your mind and that will makes you believe in yourself, to choose in a good and right decision no matter how many situations you will face. The dress is a plain white dress but the details and patterns that are delicate and elegant which make it look more beautiful. The moonlight seems brighter than usual. You look up to the sky under your mask, the mask that only covers your upper face and reveals your lower face.
You're a kind of person who is not good at socializing and unfortunately your friends seem to have their partner to dance. While you were walking in the masquerade party with nervous, someone's voice stopped you. “Lady” You follow the voice of the man. He's in his elegant white clothes with a mask that cover all of his face. “It would be a shame... if a beautiful woman like you don't have a partner to dance, so let it be my duty?” He offers you his hand. Your smile slowly forms on your face before you grab his hand. His hand is so soft as if he has never been to war or done any hard work unlike you. You feel a bit more nervous when you think about your rough skin. You just hope that he won't bring it up. “Where are you come from, lady? The North or the South? But I assume you are from the North.” He notices your reaction, tumultuous reactions. Maybe it's not appropriate to ask a woman like this for the first time he met. “Please ignore my inappropriate question.” You could feel a smile under his mask, he tries to make you comfortable as much as possible. You just have an idea that he would think you were one of the noblewomen who just comes here to join the masquerade, celebrate Don John's birthday. The man seems like a good person at the first meet but you can't deny that you still have the thought that he might have an idea to flirt with you like the rest of the men you met. They all wanted to marry you but still court with many different women in the same night. “No- I'm from... here.” The man raises his eyebrows under his mask while his feet still keep moving, dancing along with yours. Your hand is now place on his shoulder. “Here? I've never known that Don John has a sister.” His chuckle comes from his throat. Obviously, he doesn't believe it. “No. Sir. I'm just a servant here.” He let you turn your body under his arm before you both continue to dance and the conversation. “A servant?” He still can't believe that a beautiful woman like you with this good manners than the rest of the people is a servant. “Yes, sir.” He nods as understanding, he doesn't judge you by being a servant at all unlike the rest who would say; you're not supposed to be a servant because your beauty is beyond that or you should be my wife because being a servant is a disrespectful job and you don't deserve that. “Interesting.” That was all of his answer.
It is kind of make you disappointed before he continues the conversation. “My mother... was a servant. After I came back from a war with victory, I got the new rank from the king. I told her that please let go of this living and having a better life with me. However, she still insisted to stay the same, she said; it is my honor to live here, the man who allowed me to live in this place gave a better life than I had before I even have you and I will repay his kindness until I die. Yes, she died two months after the conversation. At the house. Under the man's arms.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “He loves her... but he just can't marry to my mother because she's just a servant in his parents' eyes so they don't allow him to marry her.” He looks into your eyes. “And you're the most woman I've ever seen but I will not ask you to marry me.” You are listening to him carefully, his voice shake a little bit but you could feel that he is trying to not make his voice sound more shaky. “Because I know that all the servants here were fostered. I understand the repayment you all want to give. Thus, it is more like my honor to have the dance with the woman I can't marry with.” That moment, all of your judgment that you had earlier is all gone. He is different from the others. You can feel his kindness through his voice and his story. He didn't force her mother to leave, he just lets her be whatever she wants to be. He truly understands the repayment that his mother wanted to give. “Thank you...” you said with a kind smile on your face. You're also speechless about the story, it's beautiful and melancholic. “Did she love him?” You asked. “Indeed.”
That was all he said before one of his friends interrupted you both. The friend whispers something to him. You don't hear that because of the music and the sound of people having fun. “Lady... I need to go. I am truly sorry for my friend for interrupting you.” You just nod and smile in understanding before he kisses your hand and leaves, he leaves without his name. Your eyes follow the man until you see him walking to Don John. That moment, you see Don John's gaze on you, the gaze which is intense and deep as if it is burning on your skin.
Hours later, you're sitting in the kitchen while washing dishes. The masquerade ended for an hour. All the servants are all in here cleaning up things. The works are almost done so you offer your colleagues that mostly are old to go to sleep first and you with young colleagues will do the rest. Soon, they are all gone and you are ready to go to bed after the works done. You're really tired from the party and the work, you need to take a rest after this long night.
“[y/n]!” Before you could leave the kitchen, one of your friends walks in and calls you. She seems hurried. “Yes?” You answered as she walked toward you quickly. “Sir Don John needs a bowl full of cool water and a cloth, he said it is hot tonight and he needs something to cool him up. Could you bring it to him? His father just called me and there's no one left here...” Your friend look around the kitchen because there's literally no one here so you accept the request. Honestly, if you weren't here, she would find someone else because she is so scared of him. Actually, Don John treats everyone badly. Here, you are known as the one who is scared of nothing. So, they all will ask you to do the thing if the order comes from the man name Don John.
You're walking down the corridor with the bowl full of cool water and the cloth in your hands. The corridor is almost dark except the candle that helps the way brightens. This house would be in silence without the sound of your footsteps.
Your presence stops in front of his bedroom door. You barely hear anything from his bedroom like usual, he would bring many different women from different parties to sleep with. You would hear the sound of moan in happiness through his door when you walk past to get to your room.
Before you can knock on the door, he says loudly through the door. “Come in!” He always win in wars so it doesn't surprise if he can hear someone by only footsteps. Your hand slowly spins the knot before walking in. He's already sitting on the bed without his shirt on, turning his back towards you. You slowly walk to the other side of the bed and place the bowl on the side table. Your feet walk towards the door and ready to leave. “Did I tell you to leave?” You're stunned by his words. “I'm sorry, sir.” That was all you said before turning around to look at him. Even, he is still turning his back towards you. He doesn't say anything further but that's the sign for you to do something, to cool him up by wiping his body with the cool water. So, you grab the bowl, the cloth and walk to him.
You place it down on the other side table. His gaze is on you now, lingering all over your face and your body. You hate this feeling, it is like your body is being burned by his eyes. One of your hand pick the cloth and put it into the bowl, anoint it with water. His eyes follow your hand. “Did you find pleasure in your discourse with Leonard?” He asked firmly as his eyes were still on you. “Leonard who, sir?” You asked him while your eyes are still on the cloth. “The man you danced with.” It makes you stop unintentionally. He looked at you for the whole time? “...indeed, sir. He is kind and gentle.” You could hear his chuckle from his throat but it's so light that you almost barely hear it.
Now, you fully face him. He is sitting in front of you while you gently wipe his body with the cloth. “Why didn't you accept to marry him?” You raise your eyebrows with his words. He would hear a lot that you always reject men's love. But at this moment, all you could think is that; what is he going to play with you this time? “He didn't ask me.” You answered. “Leonard... is a good gentleman, handsome, brilliant, and rich.” You can catch the sarcasm in the replies. “He can make you a noblewoman.” He added while the cloth was down on his abdomen. “That's not my desire, sir.” You answered immediately with the pride of your job. “Then what is your desire!?” He whispered sharply to you, grabbed you and you flinched. As if he wanted to shout but he didn't want to let anyone hear that. He continues, “Don't you want a status? Don't you want money? Don't you want a man!?” He raised his voice. He just insulted you. He thinks that a servant like you wants all of those things. You look at him at the eyes with madness in your heart. “What kind of woman do you think I am?” You talked back to your master. Well, it doesn't matter now if he is your master or not. Right now, he is just a man who insults you. You can't stand him. “I am not a woman who needs all of those precious things!” You raise your voice. Treating you badly is alright but insulting you is enough. You have your own pride and no one will judge that. “You insulted me.” Your voice is sharp and is almost like a whisper while all of your madness can be seen on your face obviously.
“Why do you wish to stay here so badly!? I don't understand! When many noblemen offer you to have a better life!?” He swept the cloth and stand up right in front of you. You stumble back and look into his eyes. He's not satisfied with your words much. “Because it is my will.” You just don't want to explain much since he's the kind of a person who doesn't care and doesn't understand you. “I don't want to see your face! I hate the way your hair looks! The way you walk the way you talk! It all annoys me! Why don't you just leave!?” He shouted at your face while his hand swept your hair and your cloth. His words cut right into your heart. Why? Just being yourself is already annoying to someone? “I insist to stay here until your father tells me to.” You say sharply to him. If he hates it, the will to stay here is stronger. You also have a weird thought comes into your mind that you will stay here, get on his nerves until death can take you both apart since he's the most unreasonable man you have ever met.
He knows that he can't do anything since it must come from his father's order to deport you from here which is impossible. His father is not an unreasonable person who will deport someone arbitrarily or without a strong reason enough. Your eyes are still on him watching him staring at you. You're not scared of him at all. He is just a bastard to you now. You had never thought about him in this way until today because it is too much for you. A nobleman who should know how to talk, when to speak or what shouldn't be spoken but this man knows nothing!
All he can do now is staring at you, having the thoughts that you will never know. All of his hatred has their own reasons. The fact that he doesn't want to see you walking around his house or around him because he can't stand himself that he can't marry you, his father doesn't allow him to. And that makes him mad. Yes, it is true that his father is a good man, always treats his servants like humans equally as him and his family, never look down on them. However, he can't deny that fame and family status are still important things to his father and for his own sons. No matter how much kindness his father gives to his servants, he still can't let him marry a servant like you. His father always find many beautiful noblewomen for him to marry since he is in the nice age to get married but he ends up rejecting all of them because he still can't love anyone except you. He really doesn't want to marry any other woman but you. That's why he wants you to leave so much because it will hurt him less if you are gone and married to someone out of his sight. It won't hurt him that much, that's what he thinks. The man that is standing right in front of you with eyes that are hard to read wants to marry you so badly but he just... can't. That makes him feel sick even more because he always hear that many noblemen ask you to marry and he is afraid that one day you may actually accept the offer. Just like today, he is so afraid that one of his closest friends will ask you to marry because if it's true, he will see you in the man's arms until death. Leonard is close to him and it could make him die if he has to see you with Leonard, his closest friend forever. And the fact that he has to bring many different women into his bedroom to pretend that they are you. He needs you so bad and he can do nothing about it. If he sleeps with you, it will become rumored and you are the only one who is going to be fucked up because his father loves him so much. So, he needs those beautiful women to fulfill the space that he still has left; you. He will find all the women who have the same eyes color, the same hair color or even the same height as you to sleep with. And all of these truth that you will never know, it won't be spoken by his mouth.
Since he keeps staring at you, you decide to leave. Why do you need to wait? Wait for him to insult you more? No. Those are enough. Don John is standing there like an idiot watching you leave with the unspoken truth from his mouth. All he can do is letting you go. He still wishes you would leave this house after he said all those things. Since he can't marry you, maybe it is better to not see you anymore. It could make him forget you better.
He can't marry you. He knows. He has prestige which he doesn't care except his father and if you were not a servant, everything would be easier. He would ask you to be his bride and love you until death takes you apart.
Hello! My name is Alyss and I'm searching for new roleplay partners! A few facts about me that you should know are-
1. My favorite color is pink
2. I absolutely adore writing and creating a world with my rp partners
3. I love creating fun headcanons with my rp partner
4. I do work a full-time job so sometimes I'm busy, but I promise to always try to communicate with you!
5. I am always happy to double up, but if you don't want to, then i'd prefer to do MxF with me playing the female role. If we are doubling up, I'm happy to do any pairing with you!
6. While I do love fandoms, fandomless is always a great option for me too! So bring any of your storylines my way!
7. I'd prefer to do canonxoc, but I can also do canonxcanon as well!
8. Last one, and this is a big one! Since I'm 26, It is necessary for me to write with people who are 18+, especially since my roleplays tend to have a little bit of spice added in.
Below are the following fandoms I'd like to do along with the ships that i'd be interested in!
Much Ado About Nothing (1993)
Don John x OC
Don John x Hero
Phantom of the Opera
Erik Destler x Christine Daae
Erik Destler x Meg Giry
Erik Destler x OC
Bridgerton
Benedict Bridgerton x OC
Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie
Colin x Penelope
Shadow and Bone
Kaz Brekker x OC
The Vampire Diaries/The Originals
Niklaus Mikaelson x Caroline Forbes
Niklaus Mikaelson x OC
Harry Potter
James Potter x OC
James Potter x Lily Evans
Draco Malfoy x OC
Teddy Lupin x OC
Teddy Lupin x Victorie Weasley
Bill Weasley x Fleur Delacour
Wicked
Fiyero Tigelaar x Elphaba Thropp
Rivals
Rupert Campbell-Black x Taggie O'Hara
Declan O'Hara x OC
The Lost Boys
David x OC
Dwayne x OC
Marvel
Bucky Barnes x OC
Steve Rogers x OC
Stranger Things
Steve Harrington x OC
Eddie Munson x OC
Greek Mythology
Hades x Persephone
Dionysus x Ariadne
__________________________________________________
and here are some storylines that I'm currently interested in! (these are not mine, but I really like them!)
You get a craving for whatever your soulmate is eating at the time.
One of your eyes is the same color as your soulmate's.
You have the first words your soulmate says to you somewhere on your body (and vise versa).
You have your soulmate's name somewhere on your body.
muse a that owns a pretty little flower shop and across the street is hardcore tattoo shop where muse b works at and muse b is utterly in love at the sight they see across the street where muse a tend for their flowers every morning and fate decides to screw up muse b and the two finally meet one day
Muse A is a kindergarten teacher very loved by their students. They had realized there’s a kid in her class who always forget to bring materials and is usually lonely and sad. To know what’s going on, they meet the kid’s parents, only to realize the kid is being raised by Muse B, the kid’s single uncle/aunt after their brother and sister in law passed away in a car accident. They don’t know how to raise a kid or what to do to make things better, so Muse A volunteers to give them some tips and make sure the kid will move on and be the once happy kid they know the kid can be. Muse A teaches Muse B simple things and visits them often, feeling their heart melt whenever they see Muse B acting in a fatherly/motherly way, and doing their best effort to be the best parent they could be, even when sometimes they feel about to give up.
the summer road trip
bad boy / good girl
bad girl / good girl
TA / college student
penpals that become best friends and maybe more through letters
rich ceo’s kid / rich ceo’s beleaguered employee
actually, rich ceo / rich ceo’s beleaguered employee
people on a movie set who are love interests in the movie but hate each other irl
Muse A goes to the countryside on summer vacation with her family as a small child. They don’t like it there very much, and are extremely grumpy about it. Then they meet Muse B, who’s been living there all their life in a house next door to the vacation home. The two become inseparable friends— running barefoot through tall grass, playing pranks on everyone, picking wild strawberries, building a hidden hideout so they can hang out there.
Then Muse A is taken away back to the city, and the two are devastated, pining for each other’s company for months after the separation. Years pass and they forget that summer. They’re now grownups, and Muse A is a successful business owner in the city, while Muse B takes up an artistic job ( musician, painter, poet, etc. ) near his home.
So one day, a bad breakup leaves Muse A heartbroken, and when their work goes downhill, they decide they need a break and go to the countryside. In the same rental vacation home from all those years ago, they spend their days trying to chill. Bad memories and nightmares wake them up from sleep and they take a walk through the grounds around them when they hear music//see someone?? They follow everything to their old hideout, where Muse B, too, has been spending a restless night in need of inspiration.
Muse A watches them for a while in secret, but then something scares them or they trip on something, and the two just go Whoa, hello..?! and Muse Boffers their hand to Muse A…. and then realizes that birthmark//scar on their hand looks familiar??
Muse A has been to various clubs around where they live, always gambling in the world of one night stands and fake love. One day, Muse A goes to party at a new place further away from where they live. They meet Muse B who has a dangerous aura around them, Muse A feels their arm slink around them as they dance together. The night involves shots, continuous drinking and flirting. Muse A & B end up having a night together but Muse A never expected Muse B to shoot somebody in front of her the next morning.
we’re best friends with benefits but my pals always give me shit for not dating anyone, will you pretend to be my bf/gf for a while?? and then we can have a v intense break up // argument in front of everyone one day to make it seem somewhat real, ok cool thanks you’re a true pal, let’s bang it out && now it’s been a couple of months but we still haven’t ended things but here we are, dancing in my kitchen and you look really fucking perfect, holy shit — i don’t love you, i don’t love you, i don’t love you && you end up taking me out to a v fancy restaurant and basically, we do all the things couples do and is it bad that i actually consider you home instead of my own fucking apartment?? && oh, you’re cuddling me in your sleep, that’s new and i think i heard you tell me you love me in your sleep?? no, i’m just dreaming, aren’t i?? && holy shit, we still haven’t broken up but you’re watching a movie and i’m watching you and all i can think about is how pretty your face looks and how much of a wonderful person you are, it’s not even about the sex anymore — fuck, i’m in love with you, aren’t i??
you’re friends with my roommate but they’re not home and how embarrassing that you’re here while i’m silently weeping over my break up but lets watch a movie and eat ice cream to pass time
i kept getting harassed by some creepy person as i was trying to study and they’re picking up on my ‘fuck off vibes’ and i started to actually get scared and then you put a coffee in front of my face and called me babe and scared them away thank you please let me buy you a new on one oh you have a really cute smile when you’re shy
gimme a plot where muse a is this cute shy little thing and one day they’re going to ride the bus home but it’s super full and only two seats are left, one next to some woman on her phone and one next to muse b who is really tough looking and has a ton of tattoos and basically scares the shit out of muse a so they go do sit with the woman and ask if that seat is taken and the woman goes off on them, and is just being really rude and muse b over hears and notices how cute muse a is blushing and has this really really strong urge to protect them and so they step in and tell the woman to calm the f down and offer muse a the seat next to them, and then they start talking and it’s great.(bonus points for next day on the bus all the seats are taken and muse b gets up and says they’ll sand and muse a is like fuck no i can’t let you do that and they get into a fight about it until muse b pulls muse a into their lap and says ‘compromise’)
how about the complete fuckboy who is so used to routine. he picks up who he wants, it’ll be easy and if he’s lucky they’ll put up a challenge but they end up in the alley or in the men’s room and he always has the courtesy of kissing them goodbye and never seeing them again. and it’s like every saturday, he’s at the bar and he spots a pretty girl and she looks the perfect amount of innocent (he’s not up for a challenge tonight) but theres a bit of banter going and eventually she ends up in the backseat of his Jeep and when they’re done he’s leans in with a grin, memorized almost like a catchphrase, “thanks for the great sex babe” to kiss her goodbye but she turns her cheek at the last minute, offers him a sweet smile “cute. that was great sex for you?” and just like that the fuck boy’s been fucked and she’s smoothing her skirt down and disappearing out of the backseat and he needs to find her again, needs to prove her wrong and it’s almost obsessive the way he needs her and suddenly hes just like one of the many girls that chase after him following a mediocre one night stand.
i really want a plot where this totally sweet girl is dating this total ass and he prob cheats on her all the time and is so shitty to her but she stays because she’s sweet and caring and he’s all she’s ever known and they used to be so in love but anyways he’s totally one of those guys who brings around his douche friends and they sit on the couch and talk about chicks and drugs and partying and she is supposed 2 be the regular house wife gf who brings them food and sits next to him when they watch movies so he can flaunt her and just be /: a dick /: ANYWAYS his fellow douche friend starts to slowly be like god this guy is so awful to her and he starts following her out of the room instead of staying to high five his friend for cheating on her w some club girl and idk he just generally starts hanging out with her more while her bf and his other friends hang out in the basement or some shit and they’ll like sit on the porch while he smokes and they just talk or he’ll help her make food or ANYTHING and it can go so many cute ways tbh like ? he could be listening to the friend brag about sleeping around one day or see him being shitty to her like yelling at her for nothing ro smth and just be like DAMN I’VE HAD ENOUGH and finally break and yell at his friend and fight for her and accidently admit that he thinks she’s totally amazing and he’d cherish her sm or he could kiss her one night while they’re talking and they could start sneaking around behind the friends back or anything so !
cliche plot where muse b( who’s a badass and lowkey kind of a jerk ) makes a bet with his friends that he can take muse a’s ( who’s a sweet lil angel ) virginity but then plot twist !!somehow sweet lil muse a worms her way into his cold heart and would you look at that ?? he’s fallen in love with her !! and so now he’s really set on losing this bet because he doesn’t want to hurt her but oops, he took her to a party and his friend accidentally let her in on their little bet. cue the angst and fluff
━━━ bad boy x innocent/good girl thing where the boy intimidates her and makes her nervous and is like “ you know he can’t make you feel like i can “ and she just is like “ you’re an idiOt “ yet her body language says something else & he can actually get her to moan like no one else and they’re just so into each other aND she also gets frisky sometimes and wears lingerie for him & he’s just sO into it just because she’s so tiny and innocent and it makes her look so different and he’s just mesmerized by her and shes mesmerized by him
━━━ you’re my best friend’s girl and i know i should stay away but i liked you first and god dammit i want you (oh and i’m a much better fuck let me prove it too you)
Muse a is a really powerful criminal. he basically has the world under their thumb. he’s killed lots of people (or at least ordered a lot of people to be killed) and he’s made a LOT of money this way. muse b, meanwhile, is a relatively ordinary person – she’s the girl next door. through a turn of events, the two meet and begin a fling. (muse a may or may not have a spouse at home, but that’s neither here nor there.) muse b knows muse a is a criminal – everyone does – but she enjoys the rush and the excitement.
one day, though, muse b finds out she’s pregnant. and she realizes that muse a is not a suitable father for her baby. he’s too dangerous. death and destruction follows him everywhere he goes, and, as much as she cares about him, she knows he’s not exactly a good person. so she gives it to him straight: she’s going to end their relationship, move, and raise their child alone, and muse a is going to stay away. muse a truly loves muse b, so he agrees to her terms, and does her one better: he’ll send money to help raise the kid, and even pay for her new home.
fast forward some years. muse b is settled into her new life with her child, and muse a has stuck to his promises. at least until one day, he shows up on her doorstep. he has several armed guards, and a car ready to go.
“grab our kid and get in the car,” he says. “someone found out, and my enemies are after the two of you"
11.) Muse A, was a shy and sweet girl, who's never had any romantic relations. Muse B, was what you'd call a player, and a bit rude too. One night, Muse A caught Muse B's interest. So he talks to her. After talking for what seemed like hours, Muse B risks it and leans in to kiss Muse A. Muse A, being in complete shock, though confesses that it was her first kiss. Muse B completely doubting it, but after a bit of discussion he apologies hesitantly. Muse A, makes a deal with Muse B though.. She has to get to know him better. Annoyed, Muse B agrees and they exchange numbers. The next day, they meet at the park and start talking. Later in time, they start to have feelings for each other, but, Muse B always denies it. Can Muse A get Muse B's change in heart?
Muse a has a abusive father and a dead mother. Their father is almost always drunk when they get home and will do whatever he wants to muse a. Muse b is muse A's best friend- and has been for a while. They almost always hang out at muse b's house so they wouldn't find out about muse A's father. One day muse b insists on going to muse A's house. The second they walk in their greeted by muse A's drunk father. Muse b finds out the truth about their family and becomes very protective of muse a. They don't ever want to leave their side. Eventually through good times and bad a romance starts to bloom
Muse A and Muse B are neighbors who have never met. When a winter storm knocks out the power to their building, Muse A, terrified of the dark, lets out a bloodcurdling scream. Next thing they know, Muse B is banging on the door to make sure they're okay
I know this is an incredibly long post, but if anything sparks your interest! Please send me a like and let me know! I also have a writing sample on hand if you'd like that as well!
