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#he has bad posture bc I said so

f1inl3ey · 1 year

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I’ve decided that finney has back problems because he slouches a lot and when he lays flat on his back his back cracks

#the black phone #tbp #finney blake #finney the black phone #finney tbp #tbp headcanons #he has bad posture bc I said so #finney headcanons #this happens to me all the time

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togenabi · 7 months

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the promised knight

knight!roronoa zoro x princess!reader

♡— after a lifetime apart, zoro finds his way back to you

word count♡— 8.7k (screams into the void)

genre♡— royalty au, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, slow burn bc a lot of things happen, but there's fluff bc I need there to be

content notes♡— fem!reader wears dresses, mentions of death and grief, very plot heavy, kuina and mihawk are here, canon-typical violence, original side characters, no use of y/n, proofread(ish), inaccurate royalty things, inaccurate chemistry/poisons/acids, yes I got the name florentia from ill be the matriarch

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— quick explanation!: a regent has no right to the throne, they're just someone stepping in temporarily while the next monarch is absent or unable to execute their powers. happy reading!!

Your happiest years were when everyone was together.

Those were the days you’d sneak out of your lessons to go play in the training grounds. You’d find your best friends arguing about something or other, fighting with wooden swords and chasing each other around.

Kuina and Zoro did their best to include you in whatever game they were playing. You found it all good fun, even if you were mostly being rescued or hidden away somewhere. The proud smiles on their faces when they saved you always made the wait for them worth it.

“Why do I have to play the bad guy?” A young Zoro whines, frowning deeply with shoulders slumped. His wooden sword hangs lazily in his hand, pointed to the ground.

Opposite him, Kuina’s blade was up, stable and correct with proper posture. “Because we agreed I would save the princess today!”

You remember sending Zoro a small smile, trying to reassure him, “You can save me next time, Zoro. I promise.”

Zoro complained, but gave his all acting as a bandit out to rob you. You and Kuina would run into the meadow—hands held in each other’s—squealing and laughing. You’d always end up collapsed together; among the grass and the flowers. They would cheer and scream into the sky, happy that the great knights protected their princess once again.

But that same meadow is now covered with a blanket of melancholy. The colors aren’t as vibrant as they were back then. Flowers no longer bloom like they did. The children’s laughter has been replaced by a deafening silence.

Everything changed when Kuina died.

She was hit by a stray arrow, they said. They called it a tragic accident.

More sadness only seemed to follow after she was gone. Zoro left without a word, abandoning his training, and you along with it. Your mother, Queen Florentia, passed due to an illness a few months after that. In a blink of an eye, you lost everything back then.

The large doors to your chambers slam shut, breaking you from your train of thought. The thud echoes into every corner before fading into noiselessness once more.

A maid rushes in, completely out of breath and practically stumbling towards you. “Your Highness!” She gasps. Waving a hand, you gesture for her to calm down.

“Selma,” You pour her some water in a glass. It’s strange to see your personal maid so distressed. “What did you find?”

Practically inhaling the water, she places a hand over her heart before explaining, “You were right, Your Ladyship. The commander informed me that several knights had poison hidden in their quarters.”

Her eyes trail to the glass she’s holding, then to the pitcher. Selma’s face becomes appalled as it sinks in that you had poured her a drink. You cut her off before she can make a fuss about it.

“Never mind all that.” There are more pressing matters than decorum right now. “What else did Mihawk say? Have the knights been apprehended?”

“No, my Lady.” Selma retrieves a transparent vial from her pocket. “The commander said there's a chance the poisons were planted. Trustworthy men could have been framed… He discourages you from trusting any of them at all.”

The vial is small, barely larger than your thumb. To an untrained eye, it looks like nothing is there. You hold it up to the window, letting the sun’s setting rays shine through the glass.

There it is. A near-invisible, lavender sheen in liquid. The queen regent’s signature poison.

“Damn it all.” You sigh, falling into an armchair.

It’s common knowledge that most of the people are loyal to Queen Regent Cassiopeia. Not to you, the rightful heir to the throne.

Ever since she took the position after your mother’s death, she’s been doing everything in her power to discredit you. Though she's not in the official line of succession, her goal is to become queen by any means necessary.

You’ve only been able to hold on for so long because there are still people loyal to your mother, like Commander Mihawk. However, it will take only one slip up for your standing to collapse. Cassiopeia knows this, and you suspect that she plans to completely ruin you at the upcoming knighting ceremony.

On a paneled wall in your room, encased in an ornate golden frame, hangs a portrait of Queen Florentia. The gold reminds you of the gilded dagger she gave you as a child.

Subconsciously, your hand moves to rest over your pocket; where the dagger is hidden under your skirt. What would your mother have done in this situation?

You scan the painting as if the image would respond. It doesn’t, but your eyes settle on the necklace she’s wearing. It was her most prized possession, and she had promised to give it to you when you were older, but it’s sadly lost to time.

The vial grows heavy in your fist. Your mother would stop at nothing until Cassiopeia is defeated, so that’s what you’ll set out to do.

“Selma, get me some ink and parchment.” You order, feeling more determined. “I have a plan.”

Dracule Mihawk burned the note as soon as he finished reading it. Your idea was brilliant, if only a little complicated to execute.

Cassiopeia will demand you choose a personal knight during the ceremony. Assuming all the knights are loyal to the queen regent, none of them would be a safe choice.

So, you asked Mihawk to hire a skilled fighter to pose as a knight. Someone whose loyalty cannot be bought. Immediately, he knew who to recruit. Though he warned you that you might not find the man… agreeable.

“I don’t care.” You replied stubbornly. “I can’t afford to be picky. Just make sure that he won’t kill me in my sleep.”

Mihawk muses that he might be killed by you in his sleep. Because in a shady, run-down tavern, he sits beside a familiar green-haired swordsman nursing a drink at the bar.

“Fancy seeing you here, commander.” Zoro spits out the title in disgust.

“It seems that some things never change.” Mihawk hums. “You’re still in the same place as you were when we last fought.”

“And your legend ends with you kissing up to that false queen.” Disappointment practically drips from his tone.

“And here you are,” There’s an amused glint in the knight commander’s eye. “...still not able to beat me, Roronoa Zoro.”

Zoro’s jaw clenches in frustration. He breathes out deeply, “What do you want, old man?”

“Join my knights.”

Scoffing, Zoro can’t believe his ears. Is this guy serious? “I’m no knight. Not anymore.”

“Are you sure about that?” Mihawk tests. “The princess needs someone not easily dissuaded.”

At the mention of you, Zoro freezes. He squints at the commander as it dawns on him, “You don’t serve that Cassiopeia bitch.”

“Obviously.”

“But why did you become commander only after Queen Florentia died?” Zoro asks. “Everyone thought you were bought off.”

“That’s besides the point.” Mihawk hisses. “I know you’ve been wanting to make it up to the princess. I’m giving you a chance to do that on a silver platter.”

Zoro stays quiet, eyes watching the alcohol ripple in his glass. He’s not drunk enough for this discussion. And he meant what he said, that he’s not a knight. That dream died with Kuina, and he chose to pursue less honorable ways to become stronger.

It’s funny how Mihawk, who was an outlaw, traded his jacket for a suit of armor. And now, he's trying to act righteous. But some things are just—

“It’s not too late to change things.” Mihawk attempts to persuade him, calmer this time. “Something tells me you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

Shaking his head, Zoro can’t believe this man is talking like he knows him. “What do you know about regret?”

When the commander doesn’t respond, Zoro turns to see Mihawk’s face, a grave expression marks his features.

“I know far too much, I’m afraid.”

Zoro studies him for a moment longer, curious as to what he meant—but he doesn’t dare ask. Only an idiot would test Dracule Mihawk.

This master swordsman, whom he’s looked up to for so many years, has changed drastically. Perhaps everyone has. It makes Zoro wonder how much you might’ve changed in the years he’s been gone.

You. He’s—there’s so much he wants to say. So much he wants to ask… but does he have the right to?

Who is he kidding? He doesn’t.

And yet, Zoro can’t help but wonder if he passes on this opportunity and regrets it, would he spend the rest of his life wishing he could make up for it?

After downing his drink, Zoro slams the glass on the bar counter.

“What do I need to do?”

Selma assists you with your hair and makeup on the day of the ceremony. She’s practically buzzing as she flutters around you. It’s nice that she’s still enthusiastic about things like these, even when dangers lurk in the shadows.

“You look stunning, Your Ladyship!” She gushes, adjusting the different layers of your dress so that it falls on you perfectly. “A vision, you are. Just like Queen Florentia.”

“Thank you.” You respond gratefully, despite not feeling as sure and confident as your mother was. Would that change, if you were to become queen?

A knock sounds on your door. Selma rushes to answer it, and lets Mihawk into your chambers. He steps in, but remains by the entryway.

“You look lovely, princess.” The commander bows to you in greeting. “I was instructed to escort you once you’re ready.”

Nodding, you approach him and hold onto his arm. “Let us be on our way.”

Keeping your face carefully neutral, you whisper to Mihawk under your breath, “Will you really not let me know the knight’s name? How am I supposed to know who to appoint?”

“You’ll know.” Mihawk pats your hand reassuringly. “Without a doubt, you’ll know. I just hope you’re not too hard on him.”

You side-eye him. “He’s not a convict or something, is he?”

Mihawk presses his mouth shut. This bastard, is he trying not to laugh? “You might actually prefer a convict over him.”

That pulls a frown out of you that you cannot contain. What on earth is that supposed to mean? Is the man that bad? How are you supposed to mentally prepare with such vague warnings?

All thoughts of the mystery knight fade into the back of your mind, however, when you and Mihawk make your entrance at the throne room.

The extravagant hall is decorated to the nines. Flags of different family crests hang from the ceiling. Flowers bloom at every window sill. You smile at it all, at your people—but it fails to reach your eyes. It’s difficult to truly smile when Cassiopeia stands dangerously close to your mother’s throne.

You curtsy when you reach the steps, one hand still on Mihawk’s arm as the fabric of your skirt dips onto the floor. You hear murmurs of approval from the ministers in the front row, pleased to see the good relationship between the princess and queen regent.

But they don’t see through your gloves, how your grip on your skirt is tense and far too tight. They don’t see how Cassiopeia’s smile is truly a smirk when you lower your head to her.

“Lovely to have you here, darling.” She says, and you fight the urge to laugh. ‘Lovely’ would be if she accepted her place and let go of her greed.

Mihawk guides you to the smaller throne on the left. This has been your seat since you were born. If Cassiopeia had her way, it would be your seat until the end of your days.

She glides to the center of the dais, the train of her excessive dress flows like a river after her. She stands; graceful, powerful and smiling—but she will never be happy until she can sit on the throne and wear your mother’s crown.

Whatever it takes, you will find a way to stop her.

“Welcome to the long-awaited knighting ceremony.” Cassiopeia addresses the audience. “It is an honor to have the kingdom’s finest pledge to serve and protect us.”

The ceremony proceeds to speeches from several dignitaries. Mihawk delivers a short yet intense declamation about the knightage being the greatest honor; and hands the queen regent an elaborate, bejeweled sword.

“These warriors before us today are hereby called forward to receive Knighthood. The kingdom will forever be grateful for your service.” Cassiopeia proclaims.

Attentively observing the knights lined up, you keep an eye out for the one Mihawk recruited for you. One at a time, Cassiopeia announces their name before tapping their shoulders with the ornamental blade.

You grow restless as the line dwindles. Frustrated, you throw questioning looks at the commander’s direction. He skillfully avoids your gaze. The nerve.

When only about five men are left, you begin to study them all and weigh your options. Perhaps you should pick someone with a smaller build, so that you can have a better chance of escaping? You also spotted someone who appeared clumsy. If you were to outsmart him, your odds of surviving weren’t so bleak.

But then—dramatically, as if in slow motion—the great doors to the throne room opened with a loud, booming sound. Everyone turned as light poured into the hall.

A swordsman makes his entrance. His armor is unassuming, but the three blades at his side demand attention. He wears a helmet over his head, but even after so much time, you’d know those eyes anywhere.

Mihawk was right. You would have preferred a convict—or maybe some rogue, or a thief who would rob you blind. You would have preferred anyone over Roronoa Zoro.

You thought you’d never see him again, but he’s here, marching towards the end of the line. You gape at him, feeling too many emotions all at once. Why is he here? Why now?

Mihawk intercepts Cassiopeia before she can question Zoro’s identity. “Forgive me, queen regent. This young man ran late due to an errand I sent him out on.”

How brilliant of him. Cassiopeia hates unexpected interruptions, but would never express her frustrations openly with so many people watching.

It’s amusing to see her grin and bear it. “That’s… quite alright, commander. I’m glad he made it before the end of the ceremony.”

When only Zoro remains to be appointed, you stand and call for the queen regent’s attention.

“Should he accept, this man shall be my personal knight.” You declare as Zoro’s gaze meets yours.

“What of your decision, knight?” Cassiopeia asks. Zoro nods, and the queen regent’s gaze sharpens. She understands that something is amiss, but passes the decorated blade to you without a word.

Back when you were children, you used to dream of this moment together. Kuina and Zoro would kneel before you on the grass beneath a shining sun, pledging their unwavering loyalty as you tap their shoulders with a stick.

You’re no longer children, but as Zoro kneels before you now, you still feel like a child all the same. Your clothes feel too big. The throne room is too vast; the ceiling too high. The sword is too heavy in your hands as you raise it.

“Roronoa Zoro. I hereby dub thee into the honorable order of knights as my chosen protector.” The blade lands on his shoulder—his right first, then the other. You pray to the stars that no one notices your hold quivering.

“Arise, Sir Zoro, and be recognized.”

You’re no longer children, but you’re still here. Playing a different sort of game.

Mihawk, the wise man that he is, makes himself scarce after the ceremony. You’re left to awkwardly journey back to your chambers with Zoro in tow. He doesn’t speak a word the entire time, but you can feel his eyes burning a hole through the back of your head.

Selma is there when you get back, your usual afternoon refreshments prepared. She approaches you, but stops short when she sees Zoro.

“Leave us.” You tell her. She obeys, albeit reluctantly—looking back over her shoulder more than once as she exits.

After the door closes shut, the outside world feels a million miles away; making the air feel tense. You hastily take off your gloves, the fabric suddenly feels constricting against your skin. Every fiber of your being wants to scream at him.

Roronoa Zoro. Your best friend who had left all those years ago. You don’t even know where to start.

Maybe throwing something at him will make you feel better.

You throw one of your gloves. The fabric hits his chest before falling pathetically.

“Seriously?” Zoro frowns at you, unimpressed. You throw the other one. It meets the same fate.

Grumbling under his breath, Zoro takes off his helmet. It vexes you how you subconsciously hold your breath until you see his face.

You huff skeptically, “Why are you here?”

“Mihawk said you needed help.” He answers with a shrug, causing his armor clink.

After a breath, he speaks cautiously, “I didn’t know things had gotten this bad.”

“How could you have known?” You bite back, “You left, Zoro.”

In a sense, you understand why Mihawk chose him. You asked for someone who wouldn’t kill you in your sleep, and Zoro—at least, the one you knew—definitely wouldn’t.

Some (rational) part of your brain is telling you to keep quiet and accept his help. With Cassiopeia planning a mutiny, time is something you don’t have a lot of.

But your heart still feels angry and hurt when you see his—stupidly handsome—face. The years just had to treat him well, didn’t they?

“I’m thankful for your help,” You admit disgruntledly. “But I’m not happy about it.”

Zoro calls your name. It makes your heart ache a bit, but you hold a hand up to silence him.

“Please, just—I need time to process this, Zoro.” Turning away from the knight, your eyes find the window. The sunset paints the meadow in deep oranges and blues. It doesn’t make you feel any better.

“...We’ll talk tomorrow.” You promise, your tiredness evident from your tone.

Zoro lingers, hesitating. But he doesn’t push you. You hear his armor shift as he bows before he leaves.

That night, Zoro stands guard outside your door. It’s good that no one else is around, it allows him to think in peace. About you.

The last time Zoro saw you, you were a small thing, getting dirt on the edge of your skirt. When he saw you today, sullying even the path you walked on felt like a crime.

He knew you would be mad. He had prepared himself to be yelled at. Maybe he thought you would cry. How much you went through didn’t really sink in until he saw how exhausted you were.

All the things he wanted to say, every apology and excuse, fade into nothing. The first thing he wants to tell you is how thankful he is that you’re still alive. It doesn’t matter that you stay mad at him forever, he’ll protect you for just as long.

Footsteps sound through the dim hallway. Zoro rests a hand on his blades, ready to fight back anyone who poses a threat. A knight he’s not acquainted with approaches, his steps staggering just a bit. The man carries a bottle of alcohol.

“Hey! New guy!” The stranger bellows. “This ’ere is a little something we prepared for ya, since yous didn’t eat dinner with us.” Zoro makes a mental note that they’ve been watching him.

“Take it, take it.” The knight tries to shove the bottle into Zoro’s hands. At the last second, Zoro spots a knife the man hides behind his back.

Quick on his feet, Zoro jabs the man’s neck, causing him to stumble. The knight charges at him, but Zoro effortlessly dodges. Grabbing the knight’s shoulder, Zoro slams his head onto the stone wall.

The bottle clatters to the floor as his opponent collapses, looking up at him in fear. Picking up the glass, Zoro sniffs at its contents. It’s laced with some sort of sedative.

Zoro pries the knight’s jaw open before pouring the drugged beverage into his mouth. The amber liquid spills. The man coughs, gurgling and struggling in vain until he slumps onto the ground.

Observing the bottle inquisitively, Zoro shakes his head before dropping it again. What kind of amateurish attempt was this? Is the queen regent testing his skills?

If anything, all this managed to do was—Zoro starts, turning to your door in alarm—…divert his attention.

Not a second later, he kicks down your door. The elaborately carved wood falls from its hinges, dust clouds billow once it crashes on the previously spotless tiles of your room.

You’re fighting off three large strangers clad in black, a dagger in your hand. Zoro tries not to think about how your eyes softened in relief when they landed on him as he cuts down one of the intruders. Maybe you still care for him a little.

“Took you long enough!” Or not.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” He grunts back, slashing his sword at someone charging towards you. Zoro only realizes the deeper meaning to his words when you make a face.

“Don’t make being late a habit, Zoro!” Stabbing an intruder’s side, you quip at him, “You and your dramatic entrances, I swear.”

Zoro bites back a grin. He missed you more than you’ll ever know.

After taking down one of the intruders, you hide in your wardrobe as Zoro deals with the rest.

It would be smart to lock the door. Barricade it, so that no one can get to you on the off chance Zoro is defeated. But you don’t. You keep the door ajar to watch everything unfold. The way he fights is a captivating sight.

Look at him. Your knight in lackluster armor. Protecting you like how you always talked about as kids. He’s wielding two blades, one for each perpetrator still standing. You blink in surprise when you make out the third, sheathed blade. Kuina’s.

The more you examine him, the more you see how different he seems. He carries himself more confidently, unlike that boy who whined about roles, responsibilities and challenges.

You also see how gruff he’s become. He’s grown stronger, for sure, but you get the sense that he’s closed himself off from the world. Perhaps the years weren’t as kind to him as you'd thought.

The last intruder lets out a pitiful cry as Zoro knocks him unconscious.

“I’ll tie them up and let Mihawk deal with them in the morning.” Zoro says, pausing to breathe for a moment before dragging the men out by their feet.

Emerging from your wardrobe, you become dismayed at the sight of your room in such a state. “Did you really have to kick down the door?” You groan.

Surprisingly, Zoro blanks, appearing sheepish. “...I didn’t know it would break like that. I just—you should get a damn better door.” He mumbles, heaving the doors up and resting them against the wall outside.

When he comes back from restraining the intruders, he stands before you awkwardly—like he doesn’t know what to do when he’s not fighting or cleaning up bodies.

No one says anything. You both just take each other in, not completely recognizing the person that looks back.

You don’t feel so angry at him anymore. When all’s said and done, everyone has different ways of dealing with grief. Your heart only grows conflicted, wishing you had been there for each other instead of being apart. Goodness knows you could have used someone by your side. You’re sure he did as well.

“I—” Zoro falters. “...I’m glad you’re okay.”

‘Okay’ isn’t how you would describe your current state, but you nod anyway.

“You too, Zoro.”

In a secluded alcove in the royal gardens the following afternoon, you invite Mihawk for tea on the pretense of thanking him for your newly sworn knight. The story that spread was that you would have been done for were it not for Zoro. You don’t want to think about how true that might be.

“The queen regent is furious you were able to secure a knight loyal to you.” Mihawk informs you as he helps himself to some pastries. “We should avoid meeting for a while, lest she suspect anything of me.”

“Alright.” You agree. “Selma also informed me that we can gather statements from mistreated staff.” You show Mihawk a list of names. “If enough of them support us, and if we can prove Cassiopeia orchestrated what happened last night… We can take her down.”

“She will be busy attending a gala this evening. I’ll make sure no one is near her office while she’s gone.” Mihawk turns to Zoro, who is standing guard behind you, sending him a fearsome look. “Those men got a tad too close last night—”

“Mihawk.” You warn him to drop it. He doesn’t.

“Ensure that it doesn’t happen again, young man.”

“It won’t.” Zoro replies icily. The commander only huffs in response.

‘It won't happen.’, he said. But trouble finds you when Zoro steps on a tripwire in Cassiopeia's office. Arrows soar, launching from scattered, hidden contraptions. Zoro shoves you into a bookshelf, covering your frame with his.

“So much for her not finding out we were here.” You remark sarcastically, waiting for him to step back.

But then, as they cage your head, Zoro’s arms tense up. His expression contorts in discomfort.

“...Zoro?” Raising your hands, you cradle the sides of his face.

“Damn arrows,” He growls. “I think they’re poisoned.”

“What?!” You gasp, ducking under his arm to check his back. You find a wound where an arrow grazed his skin. “Of course you get injured when you don’t wear your armor.”

“Why don’t you try sneaking around in that thing, then?” Zoro argues, but you’re startled when the wound begins to bleed.

“We need to get you treated.” Panicking, you grab his arm and pull him along. He doesn’t budge. “Zoro, we should go.”

“No.” He refuses, hissing in pain all the while. “That bitch won’t let us find a way in here again. Let’s just be quick.”

“...Fine.” You cave, still worried, hating that he’s right. “At least stay still, search the desk. I’ll handle everything else.”

Zoro relents, opening every drawer and scanning every document in them. You turn your attention to the shelves, trying to find hidden compartments or anything that looks remotely suspicious.

It's not long before a loud crash makes you wince. Zoro found something.

A panel beneath the desk detaches, revealing an ornate box. Studying it, you hum, “It looks like we’ll need a key.” Zoro unsheathes one of his blades, cutting through the lock until it cracks open.

You shake your head. “Or we could do that, sure.”

However, instead of the nefarious plans or blueprints you were hoping for, you find old papers. All of them yellowing with age.

“It’s your handwriting.” Zoro points out, picking up the first document.

“What?” You lean in, reading the file over his shoulder. It’s a letter written to acknowledge a transfer of money. But the amount is astronomical, and you don’t remember signing anything of the sort.

“Look at the date.” Pointing to the corner, it reads more than ten years ago. And then it clicks, “My mother wrote this.”

“There’s more than one.” Zoro sifts through the papers, counting over ten.

“All of them are addressed to… Shimotsuki Koushirou?” He reads the name slowly. You look at each other, confused. Why would Queen Florentia be sending payments to Kuina’s father?

A tall longcase clock chimes to signal the hour. If you clean up now and review the evidence later, you can make it look like you were never here. You instruct Zoro to pack up the box.

“We should head out soon.” You say, moving to pick up the arrows scattered on the floor.

“Be careful.” Zoro reminds you.

“I am.” You show him that you’re holding the arrows by their tail ends. “You can go ahead, if you want. Get that wound treated.”

“Do you really think I would leave you?” You can’t help the incredulous look you send his way.

“...Forget I said anything.”

Back in your chambers, you twirl an arrow you decided to keep as evidence while examining the documents sprawled out on your carpet.

Zoro grabs it from your hand. “I thought I told you to be careful with that.”

You think aloud as he sets the arrow to the side, “I just can’t figure out why my mother gave Koushirou so much money.”

“Maybe she felt bad about the accident.” Your swordsman suggests. “We all did.”

“But why did she have to keep it quiet…” Mumbling in thought, you read the last receipt Queen Florentia signed. It had been penned the week of her death.

The sky grows darker, and it becomes more difficult to see. Zoro strikes a match to light a few candles, bathing the room in a subtle, warm light.

Beneath the dim, flickering flames, the sharp arrow on your tea table glints ominously.

It took you a long while to get over spacing out whenever you saw an arrow. It was one of the things that affected you after Kuina’s passing.

Sometimes, you think of how much better everything would be if she was still here. If it weren’t for that—

…accident?

“Zoro?” Your voice is unsteady, “...What do you remember about Kuina’s death?”

“It was some new guy at the training grounds.” He answers, frowning as he recalls what happened. “He misfired, and his knighthood got revoked after that.”

“But,” Memories come flooding back as you try to piece things together. “If the archers were practicing that day, what was Kuina doing in the grounds?”

“Kuina wasn’t in the grounds.” Zoro corrects you. “She was in that meadow we always went to.”

He points to the view outside, raising a finger to trace the horizon. “The arrow flew through the fence, but it was really dangerous, even—”

Zoro turns back to you with wide eyes. “Even the queen was almost hit! Holy shit, she was there to observe that day.”

You blink at him in disbelief, “My mother was the real target.”

“And she didn’t want the culprit to know she realized, which is why she kept quiet about the money.”

You collapse into a chair as you run your hands over your head. “Did anyone ever check the arrow for poison?”

“No.” Zoro’s face crumples. “She was hit straight in the heart... She wouldn’t have made it even if it wasn’t poisoned.”

“Oh, Kuina…” You choke back a sob, covering your face with both hands. “I’m so sorry it took us this long.”

“Wait.” Zoro calls out your name, taking your hand and kneeling in front of you. The strength of his grip hurts, but you don’t mind it. You need to feel that he’s with you right now; especially when his next question makes your heart fall through the floor.

“How did your mother die?”

“She—she got sick. A lot of our people got sick that year.” You answer shakily, not liking where this is going. “Do you think…”

“Queen Florentia could have been poisoned.” Zoro whispers. “And I bet that fake bitch was responsible for it. For Kuina’s death too.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” You counter, “Cassiopeia deals with poisons, sure, but she wasn’t even in the kingdom yet then.”

“...Someone must have betrayed your mother so Cassiopeia could be queen regent.” He suggests, rubbing circles into your palm. “Because isn’t it convenient, how she was there to bring the people together after Her Majesty died?”

It’s confusing how the world seems to have slowed down, and yet your mind is spinning so quickly, you can’t process anything. You squeeze Zoro’s hand to anchor you, but you shatter all the same.

“I hate everything.” You cry, tears streaming down your face. “I hate how I didn’t know—but we were kids! How were we supposed to know? And, I hate feeling so powerless. What—how, are we going to fix this?”

“We’ll find a way, I promise.” Zoro moves to embrace your form, but you glare at him.

“You. I hate you too.” You push him away weakly, but he doesn’t let you go. “I—I hate that you left, Zoro… You have no idea how lost I was.”

His eyes glisten with tears. “I was lost without you too.”

Zoro feels you melt into his arms. Your strength just vanishes, and you slump forward until your forehead touches his.

“...Don’t leave me then.” You whisper. You beg.

He holds your cheek, wiping your tears with his thumb. “Never.”

The last thing you remember before falling asleep is Zoro pressing the softest kiss to your temple as he tucks you in bed.

Selma barges in the next morning, slamming the (newly repaired) doors open. As you rub the sleep from your eyes, you’re starting to feel sad for the abuse your doors have been going through lately.

“Princess! Your Ladyship! Your Highness—” She stops abruptly, covering her mouth, looking scandalized. What is she so flabbergasted by—

Only then do you see Zoro sleeping on the floor beside you. He’s leaning on the bed, using his forearms as a pillow. One of his hands is intertwined tightly with yours.

“Your Highness!” Selma gasps playfully, gesturing to your mother’s portrait. “Right in front of Her Majesty!”

“Selma,” You sit up, letting go of Zoro’s hand. “Did you have anything important to report?”

“Ah!” She exclaims, face becoming worried once more, “The commander has been imprisoned!”

You curse, shaking Zoro’s shoulder to wake him. “Couldn’t you have told me that first?”

“Forgive me, princess. It’s not everyday I see you holding hands with a man. May I ask who confessed first, Your Highness?”

“Oh my god, Selma.” You groan. “Just go prepare my clothes.”

“Shall I dress you, or will Sir Zoro—”

“Selma!”

If Zoro heard any of Selma’s ramblings, he’s excellent at hiding it. You both get ready in record time. After which, he leads the way to the dungeons; careful to make sure you don’t run into anyone.

“We can sneak him out through that secret passage we used to play in.” You whisper, your knight nods.

“When we get to him, break the lock with your dagger. I’ll stand guard in case someone comes over.”

But someone already beat you to Mihawk’s cell. Zoro pulls you into a shadowed corner to hide.

The queen regent paces in front of the bars, her extravagant dress and cape out of place in this gloomy dungeon.

Mihawk is on the ground, his wrists chained with heavy shackles. Yoru is noticeably missing from his back. Seeing him like this is heartbreaking.

“I should have known you’d help that wench.” Cassiopeia sneers. “You’ll regret not siding with me soon enough, Dracule.”

“Now that you’ve found me out, I can finally ask you to stop calling me that.” Mihawk yawns. “My name always sounded revolting in your voice.” Crazy bastard, will it kill him to try to stay alive?

“But Florentia called you that, didn’t she?”

Zoro squints at how something about Mihawk changes at the mention of your mother. It’s almost imperceptible, but the air shifts dangerously. The queen regent should watch her mouth.

“Her name sounds revolting in your voice too.”

Cassiopeia scoffs. “You’re just like her. Thinking you’re better than everyone else.”

“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” Mihawk leans back, crossing his legs. “That’s not a good habit, Cassie.”

The queen regent kicks the cell. Mihawk doesn't flinch as she snarls, “I’ll deal with the princess and that knight... I’ll make you watch as the light fades from their eyes.” Gathering her skirt, her heels clack loudly as she stomps away.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, you and Zoro run to the commander.

“Mihawk!” You call out as you stab the lock with your dagger. It crumbles to the ground after a few strikes. “What happened? What did she charge you with?”

“Treason, apparently.” He shrugs, the chains holding him rattling together.

Mihawk goes on as you break his shackles, “This kingdom should be grateful we’re trying at all. We could easily leave them to their own devices—” You frown at him.

“...But of course, we won’t do that.”

Sneaking into the library, you regroup with Selma; who passes on vital information.

“The queen regent has the palace on lockdown. Everyone has orders to take you in.” She tells you. “But I’ve rallied the staff. We're going to plead your case to the ministers, Your Highness.”

“Thank you. Do you have my mother's letters?” She nods. “Good. Use them well. I'll make sure your efforts will not go to waste.” You say, giving her hands a firm squeeze.

“Where’s that fake queen now?” Zoro looks eager for a fight.

“One of the butlers said that the queen regent disappears sometimes, and no one knows where she goes.” Selma explains, passing you a note from her source. “There are rumors that she smells like grass when she returns.”

Mihawk lets out a disbelieving laugh, “She must be at the secret garden.”

“The what?” You ask. That sounds exactly like something you would have loved as a child, but why haven’t you heard of it before?

“It’s a place reserved for queens. Only crowned monarchs should be allowed in there, or even know where it is.” He says. “That woman truly doesn’t know her place.”

“Why do you know about it?” Zoro asks.

After a pause, the older swordsman deflects, “I’ve been called a queen once.”

“Mihawk,” You urge him to be serious. “Can you take us there?”

Before he responds, Mihawk looks at you with something you can’t fully discern, as if he’s recalling an old memory.

“Of course. It’s your birthright, after all.”

The entrance to the secret garden is hidden in a passageway beneath the greenhouse. You imagine your mother walking along this path, to a sanctuary she could truly call her own.

But the vision darkens when you think of how Cassiopeia has been using the space all this time. You hope you're still able to recognize traces of your mother when you get there.

An iron gate stands at the end of the path. Vines tangle through the metal spirals and flowers. Mihawk holds a finger to his lips, carefully opening the gates without a sound except for the rustling of leaves. You all crouch behind a large plant that fans out, over your heads.

And then, you see it. You see what your mother left for you.

The centerpiece of the garden is an intricate pedestal, Yoru is propped up against it. On top of it, however, is a glass case displaying your mother’s most treasured golden necklace.

You almost want to run to it, but Zoro grabs your arm, warning you not to take another step. He nods towards where Cassiopeia stands in front of oddly shaped vials and strange devices containing diff chemicals. She douses a sword with an eerie purple liquid as she speaks.

“Three against one... That hardly seems fair.” She kisses her teeth. Looking over her shoulder, she glares. “Why don’t we fight on even ground?”

Out of nowhere, a large cage falls towards the three of you. Mihawk pushes you and Zoro out of the way, but isn’t able to avoid the cage himself.

“And I just escaped. What a shame.” Mihawk fusses, but you can see that he’s relieved you’re alright.

“Maybe you’re meant to be in a cell, Dracule.” Cassiopeia remarks. “I’ll have your kids join you shortly.”

There’s only one of her, this should be easy, right?

She throws a bottle at you. Luckily, you’re able to dodge it. The bottle shatters, its contents spilling over the bystanding greenery. The liquid turns out to be acid, burning through the foliage and leaving a smoky trail.

Well, fuck.

Zoro also seems to realize how serious this fight is. For the first time since you’ve reunited, he unsheathes Kuina’s sword, placing the hilt in his mouth.

You brandish your dagger as you yell, “Really? You bite it? What would Kuina say?” He sends you a look. You try not to laugh.

And in the next second, you charge at Cassiopeia together.

It’s difficult to get close enough to land a hit. The queen regent leads you in a dance of acids and poisons. You dodge one bottle only to be met with the toxic end of her blade. It seems that your mother’s dagger won’t be enough in this fight.

“I didn't get this far to be stopped by the likes of you!” Shrieking, she lunges at you.

“You will never be queen!” You roar back.

Behind her, your eyes spot Yoru leaning on the pedestal. The blade is large and intimidating, and you’re not entirely sure if you can wield it correctly… But you might not have a choice right now.

As you were distracted, Cassiopeia’s sword almost cuts through your side. Panicking, you stumble backwards. Zoro slashes at your enemy’s wrist. Her hold on the poisoned weapon falters. It plummets with a clang.

While she’s occupied with Zoro, you rush towards Yoru. From behind the bars, Mihawk watches, holding his breath as you wrap both hands around Yoru’s hilt—but the damn thing is too heavy.

“Dear princess, you should have learned from your mother!” Cassiopeia smashes a bottle on Zoro’s head. “Stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong!”

The glass explodes into countless glittering shards. A red gas escapes into the air, and your knight inhales far too much of it.

He falls, and for that moment, the entire rest of the world vanishes until all you see is him. Your ears start to ring. His grip loosens on his swords.

No. Please. Not him. Not anyone else. No more.

Mihawk calls your name. You turn to him, on the verge of breaking down. But then, he nods once, slowly. The action reminds you to breathe—filling you with an overwhelming sense of strength. You can do this.

Screaming, you attempt to brandish Yoru again.

You swing the legendary greatsword in a perfect arc. Once it collides with the ground, the air ripples. Power surges through an invisible force headed straight for the queen regent. She tries to run, but the hit lands.

Her eyes don’t stray from yours as she collapses. In her final moments, she falls from grace, howling in agony and rage.

As a last ditch attempt, she throws one last vial of acid at Zoro. You’re about to curse the world all over again as you run to stop it.

Mihawk throws a tiny sword like a dart, miraculously breaking the container before it lands on your knight. Your knees give out, and you pull Zoro into your arms as you gasp for air.

It’s done.

Zoro wakes up to the feeling of you checking his temperature. Your hand is warm against his forehead, making him want to reach up and hold it. He should probably wake up and check on you now.

“Oh.” He hears Mihawk speak, “I didn’t realize your relationship took a certain… turn.”

On second thought, another minute of sleep won’t hurt.

“Not you too, Mihawk.” You groan. “I get enough of that from Selma.”

“Ah, yes. I heard.” The swordsman deadpans, “Hand holding. How scandalous.”

“Alright, if you’re not going to be of any help whatsoever, please just go.”

“If you wanted time alone with him, you could have just said so.”

“Goodbye, Mihawk.”

Zoro hears you escort Mihawk out, and he takes the moment alone to open his eyes. He’s in his quarters, which is a few doors down from yours so that he can easily get to you.

Not that he stays here often, Zoro prefers standing guard outside your chambers. It’s strange how he lasted years without seeing you, because now that you’re back in each other’s lives, he becomes restless whenever you’re not around.

Like right now. What’s taking you so long?

The door opens. Zoro perks up, but deflates when he sees that it’s Selma bringing in a pitcher of water.

“You could’ve at least hidden your disappointment better, Sir Zoro.” She huffs at him, taking full offense. “I’ll go get your princess.”

“Oh!” She yelps excitedly, “My bad, it’s queen anointed now, isn’t it?”

Zoro smiles, his voice raspy with sleep, “That has a nice ring to it.”

“Indeed, it does.” Selma nods, bidding him farewell.

He doesn’t have to wait long to hear your rushing footsteps. The door opens again to reveal you, this time. Your eyes shine in that really pretty way they do when you’re happy. He’s glad that’s among the things that didn’t change.

Zoro opens his arms, inviting you, “Come here.”

Not needing to be told twice, you fall into his arms, burying your face in his chest.

“You’re okay.” You murmur.

“I wasn’t about to miss your coronation, Your Majesty.” Zoro pokes your nose. He did that a lot when you were kids, you forgot how much you liked it.

“Thank you for being okay.” Leaning down, you kiss his cheek softly.

Zoro brushes his fingers through your hair. He holds your face in his hands, tracing your features as if that will help him memorize the happiness he feels in his heart. The sort of happiness he thought was lost to him forever.

“Hey,” Zoro speaks your name with care. “I love you a lot, you know.”

He always envisioned confessing to you in some dramatic, elaborate way that you’d deserve. There could have been a beautiful sunset. He would’ve brought flowers.

But he was wrong. All he needs are the words themselves, and you—smiling the way you’re smiling at him now.

You laugh, “I might love you more, I think.”

Zoro shakes his head, sitting up so that he can bring his face to yours properly. “Doubt it.”

The kiss tastes like magic, like you were always meant to find each other's lips. His heart starts doing something funny, and he has to pull you closer—hold you tighter. You respond eagerly, kissing him back so intoxicatingly that he’ll remember the softness of your lips for as long as he lives.

Later that week, your coronation is a grand and extravagant affair.

When Cassiopeia's misdeeds came to light, the people banded together to celebrate her downfall. Those loyal to her either surrendered or tried to escape. Although none of them were able to get away, since Zoro and Mihawk were ruthless towards those involved in the attempted mutiny.

The crown on your head will take some to get used to. It still feels like you're borrowing something of your mother's; but instead of shying away from it like you had before, you step into it openly. You're ready to become a successor worthy to carry on her legacy of kindness and strength.

Uncharted these waters may be, at least you have Zoro now, who would dive into any perilous sea right after you.

Escaping the celebratory banquet and the revelries, you visit Queen Florentia and Kuina's graves with Zoro. It's only right that you pay respects together.

You leave flowers on your mother's headstone, thanking her for everything she did. You're startled when Zoro takes one of his swords, holding it in front of him as he kneels in front of the previous queen.

“Your Majesty, Queen Florentia,” He speaks, his tone steady and sure. “I, Roronoa Zoro, vow to never leave your daughter’s side. I will protect her until I draw my last breath. I swear to cherish her, and to love her even in my next life.”

What is he doing, making you cry like this? It turns out that emotional boy you knew is still somewhere in there. Your heart feels full, knowing your mother would have appreciated the gesture.

As you're about to move on to Kuina's grave, Zoro motions for you to go ahead without him. You look at him strangely, but do as he says to give him some space.

Mihawk emerges from the treeline when you've gone far enough.

“You look like you’re about to leave without saying goodbye.” Zoro remarks.

“Of course you’d know how that works, hm?” Mihawk challenges, raising a sharp brow. “Try even thinking about leaving and I’ll return to make sure it’s your last thought."

“Didn't you just hear the oath I made to the love of your life?” Zoro turns to Florentia's tombstone again. “Your Majesty, back me up here.”

“She would have approved of you.” Mihawk’s frown is unimpressed, but his gaze is unmistakably caring.

“...Take care of her, Zoro.”

“Of course. I promise.”

As Mihawk walks away, Zoro asks him one last question, “How are your regrets now, old man?”

The former commander’s shoulders shake in a mixture of amusement and relief. “I suspect they'll heal, with time.”

When Zoro catches up to you at Kuina's grave, you're grinning at him. He can picture that same grin on Kuina's face if she were here.

“We were just talking about you.” You jest, “All bad things, too.”

“You had nothing to talk about, then.” Zoro sits on the grass beside you. “I’m perfect for you.”

Appalled, you scoff and turn to Kuina's headstone. “Can you believe this guy?”

That day, you talked for hours, even after the sun had set. And on the trek back to the palace, a soft breeze caressed your skin. It felt like Kuina encouraging you, sending you off onto the next chapter of your lives.

Zoro becomes Captain of the Royal Guard once Mihawk leaves. He's teaching you about weapons and self defense when he picks up your dagger to inspect it, turning it this way and that curiously.

“Is there something wrong with it?” You ask, observing it too.

“This pattern and material.” Zoro says, tracing a certain swirl on the weapon. “I feel like I've seen it before.”

“Ah,” He says in realization, tracing a finger down your neck and making you shiver. “It’s the pattern on your necklace.”

“My mother must have had them made together.” You say, unclasping the chain before handing it to him.

There's a gap in the center of the pendant. Thin and barely noticeable, but it looks like it can be opened by something sharp.

“Do you mind if I,” Zoro gestures at the dagger.

“Just don't break it.” You say. “Treat it like my heart.”

Zoro makes a face that pulls a laugh out of you. “I would never do this to your heart.” Aw. You might have melted a little.

The tip of the blade slots perfectly into the pendant. After twisting it slowly like a key, the metal clicks to reveal: a locket.

Handing it over to you carefully, Zoro lets you open it the rest of the way. Inside, there are images drawn on two panels. You, as a child on one side… and Mihawk on the other. Now you understand why your mother treasured this so much. Tearing up, you sigh.

“You’re not surprised.” Zoro notes.

“...I think a part of me always knew.” You respond. “And, I definitely felt something when I held Yoru. No wonder why.”

Treading carefully, Zoro wraps his arms around your waist as he asks, “You’re not upset that he left?”

“But he didn’t. He’ll always be there for me, and so will you.” You smile up at him. “I’m happy I found my family again.”

Many years ago…

The grass on the meadow bristles gently in the wind. Dusk bathes the land in a dreamy, gold and purple hue.

After a day filled with imaginary adventures, two children wave their dearest friend goodbye. The princess smiles at them fondly before returning to the castle.

Kuina grins, face eager as she points her training sword to the sky. “I’ll be her knight someday. I’ll be commander and everything.”

Zoro jolts, immediately expressing in protest, “No, I’ll be the one to protect her! I’ll be commander!”

“Oh yeah?” The girl’s smile turns knowing. She pokes Zoro’s waist with her sword. “How will you do that? Aren’t you going to marry her?”

Stunned, Zoro can only stare at her in response. A blush creeps up his neck, reddening the tips of his ears. Kuina seizes the opportunity to make a run for it.

“Princess, wait up! Zoro wants to tell you something!”

“Kuina! Get back here!”

read the companion piece / my notes / the timeline of this story (in mihawk's perspective) here : "the taste of ale"

tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @ay0nha @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @murnsondock @starszns @msmisasoup @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @appalost @commanderfreethatdust @onebatch--twobatch @rebeccawinters @gunslxtz @akakaze @lownna

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cdragons · 2 months

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I'm Yours, But You Can't Be Mine | Dark!Robb Stark x fem Knight!Reader

Summary: The Freys and the Boltons were so close in their attempt to assassinate Robb Stark and switch the tides in favor of the Lannisters. But a knight's devotion to her king should never be tested. Her loyalty always remains true, even if she breaks the heart of the man she loves in order to protect him.

Trigger Warning(s): MDNI 18+, blood, gore, graphic violence, forced abortion, violence against women, canon character deaths (not Robb or Starks), graphic smut, more hurt than comfort, Talisa is a spy (and a ho), Reader has post-murder clarity and guilt

A/N: A couple of days ago, I woke up and chose violence (emotionally and "literature"-ally) ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ. Also, Theon Greyjoy never betrayed Robb in this fic bc I said so - HOORAY! Also, if anyone can tell me how I can use different fonts in my posts, that would be great.

Walking out from the tent where the emergency council meeting was held, you steeled yourself for the information you would have to discuss with your king. With each step falling to the ground, bringing you closer to his tent, the boulder in your stomach grew more and more heavy.

“This is a bad idea,” you thought to yourself. “This is a bad idea and a mistake; he will never forgive you if you go through this.”

But you made a promise – and as Ned Stark taught you, you would keep it because it was right and honorable. Because when choosing between what is right and what is easy…you must always choose what is right.

You stopped before the two Northmen who stood outside your king’s tent as guardsmen. Their postures straightened and appeared as imposing as possible when facing you.

“Turn back, Ser (Y/N),” one guard said. “No matter how familiar with King Robb, we are on strict orders from Lady Catelyn that no one but her and Princess Arya are permitted to enter His Grace’s tent.”

“I need to speak with the King,” you spoke in your best militant and authoritative tone. “His lords and I just held an emergency council meeting to discuss House Frey’s betrayal. I need to ensure that no information is held from him.”

“Perhaps it be best you let His Grace rest,” the other guard spat out. “He had just lost his queen and future heir at the hands of Walder Frey – even if his wife was a spying, traitorous cunt sent by Tywin Lannister. We could all use some time to mourn.”

You snarled and grabbed your dagger when you saw the sigil sewn on her sheath. He belonged to House Blackwood. Your eyes softened as you recognized him as Bywin Blackwood, cousin to Lucas Blackwood, one of the four hundred casualties slain by Hosteen Frey. Taking a deep breath, you tried to appeal to their sympathetic natures.

“I concur, Ser Bywin,” you said. “But you cannot deny that time is of the essence. Three days have passed since the failed Red Wedding, and word has surely reached Tywin Lannister and the rest of the Red Keep of their failure. I fear for Princess Sansa’s life if we do not take action soon. Her well-being is entirely dependent on King Joffery and his bitch mother’s whims and wishes. The faster I can bring our king up to speed, the faster we can retaliate and bring our former liege lord’s daughter back.”

You watched them glance at one another before delivering the final blow. “And then we can all go home so that we may finally properly mourn and honor the lives lost in this war.”

They let you through, and you entered your king’s tent. Seeing your friend lying so still on his cot broke your heart. His chest was wrapped entirely in gauze and bandages, and the memory of seeing the arrows puncture his body swept chills down your back. Grey Wind sat beside him as dutifully as ever and did not even turn his head to look at you when you entered. Like his master, Grey Wind was a beast of discipline and strength. He and Robb shared the same qualities of holding the stoic appearance of a leader – even when the world around them came crumbling down. But here, at this moment, Grey Wind was neither a beast nor a leader. At this moment, he was simply the pet whose mind was running rampant with worry from fear of his dearest friend never waking up.

You held out your hand and called out his name. “Grey Wind.”

His head finally turned to face you. You often wondered if he was more man than beast, sometimes based on how soulful his eyes looked alone. You crouched on the ground and beckoned him to you.

“Come here, boy. Are you thirsty? I brought you water.”

He immediately trotted to you and showed his joy in seeing you were alive by licking your face and nudging you with his wet nose. You softly laughed at his eagerness to shower you in love while also inspecting your body to see if you were injured or carrying weapons. His body stilled, and his fur stood as he stopped to sniff the sword resting on your hip. He took a sniff and bared his teeth to let out a low growl when he recognized the scent of Talisa’s blood soaking the metal of your blade underneath the leather sheath.

You petted him and spoke in low whispers to calm him down. “It’s alright, boy. She met her end – you and I both ensured that.”

A pained voice rasped out. “I don’t suppose you got any information out of it?”

Your eyes widened at the only other voice in the room, and Grey Wind immediately returned to Robb’s side.

Tears filled your eyes as relief flooded your body. “Robb,” you sobbed out.

Before you could stop yourself, you flung yourself to hug him. “You’re alive! Oh gods – you’re alive!”

Returning your embrace, Robb held you close. “I am, and so are my mother and most of our men—all thanks to you.”

But the happy atmosphere became sour and somber when he looked down at your sword. The memory of your hands covered in his wife’s blood as you stormed into Frey’s Great Hall with the rest of his men was fresh in his mind. Fury swirled and thundered inside him as he learned he had been played as a fool by Tywin Lannister. Using one of his vassal house’s daughters as a spy while disguised as a healer so that she could seduce him was a low he never thought those fucking lions would stoop down to, but they had, and he will have their heads on spikes.

His grip on your arms grew harder. “Did she suffer?” he asked.

You looked him straight in the eyes. “Every second until she had her last breath.”

“Good,” was his only response.

“Robb,” you started. What you were about to tell him was cruel, but he needed to know. “I tore her child out from her womb…it had blonde hair.”

Robb let out a bitter laugh and clenched his fists. “So not only was she a spy, but she was also a whore.” He shook his head. “I was a fool.”

You took his hand in yours. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She had us all fooled.”

Robb shook his head. “Not you. She never fooled you. You hated her the minute you saw her, and you were right, too.”

You never once hid your distrust and dislike for her from the moment she and Robb locked eyes, a distrust that only grew more intense when Robb decided to marry her, thus breaking the vow he made with Walder Frey. But despite your skepticism of Talisa Maegyr, you never suspected she was a spy under Tywin Lannister. Eventually, though, you began to trust her after observing her for countless hours.

She wasn’t a Frey girl, but she might be good to Robb. Maybe she would make him happy.

Robb tucked in a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Who would’ve thought that your natural hatred and distrust for anything pretty would come in so handy?”

“I do not hate all things ‘pretty,’” you scoffed. “I just have a natural distrust for things that seem too good to be true that happen to be pretty. Why do you think I ran away from you for so long?”

Robb smirked. “But you always trusted my father?” he chuckled.

"Ned Stark was someone who was born into privilege and knew it," you shrugged. “Besides, he was old and fat when he found me. And I didn’t think it would be useful until now.”

You thought it strange to see her leave the feast so early, claiming that she felt ill, and one of Bolton’s soldiers escorted her to her chambers. You whispered to Theon that you needed some air before quietly following them. You found them discussing how everything was set and how House Stark would fall that night. Talisa’s true name was Joy Marband, one of House Lannister’s vassal houses in the Westerlands. Tal- Joy ensured Lord Bolton that House Lannister would reward him for his loyalty to the crown. Horrified by this revelation, you rushed to where Grey Wind was locked up and freed him after slaying the guards that stood in front of his kennel.

“Grey Wind, gather the men,” you ordered. “Gather as many as possible and lead them to the Great Hall! We don’t have much time!” Grey Wind howled before doing exactly as you ordered. When he parted, you set off to find the spying whore. On your way to find her, you slew every son, guard, knight, squire, and steward that came across you.

You found her all right – found her in her chambers getting fucked from behind by one of Lord Frey’s many bastard sons. You took out your dagger and gutted him from balls to the chest before cutting off his pathetic cock. It gave you a sick amount of pleasure to see how his blood sprayed across the room – from the walls to the bed, on the traitorous cunt’s back he was fucking to on your clothes. His body went limp as a massive puddle of blood surrounded him. After watching him die, you turned your attention to her.

“Please,” she cried while clutching a blood-splattered sheet close to her chest. “Please, I am with child – Robb’s child!”

You reached out, and your hand squeezed around her throat as she tried to claw her way out of your grasp. Anger being your drive, you slammed her head against the headboard of the bed and watched as her lips turned blue from lack of air.

“Don’t you say his name,” you growled. “Don’t you EVER say his name!”

You flung her like she was a simple ragdoll as her body slammed against the stone wall adjacent to the bed. She coughed and gasped for air while rubbing her throat – the bruises were already forming. You stalked towards her before she could crawl away.

“Robb trusted you!” you thundered. “Lady Stark trusted you! The North trusted you – I TRUSTED YOU!”

You towered over her, grabbed a fistful of her umber-shaded locks, and forcefully yanked it until her face was only inches from yours. “AND WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU TOOK THAT TRUST AND REPAID IT WITH BETRAYAL!”

She tried to crawl away before you stomped on her hand and felt it being crushed underneath the sole of your boot. Your former queen wailed in agony from the pain that almost hid the sound of her bones cracking. The dagger you used to fill the bleeding corpse was still in your other hand, and you knelt to trace Lady Marband’s pretty face with its tip.

“W-w-what are you going to do to me?” she pathetically sniffled.

“I have – STOP CRYING! I have only one question for you,” you harshly whispered. “Did my king truly sire the child in your womb?”

“YES!” she cried out quickly…too quickly. Your jaw clenched so hard you thought your teeth would break from all the pressure.

“…Liar,” you hissed.

With nothing left to stop you, you took your dagger and stabbed it into her body. Dragging the blade until her insides were spilling out into your hands, you dug your find to find the child. Her screams howled louder than any beast at night, and you were almost worried that her wails would give away your position. But all those worries went away when you tore the fetus from her womb. Pouring water on it, you found tiny wisps of hair…straight, blond wisps of hair that more resembled the color of golden wheat than Robb’s dark, russet curls.

Hearing Grey Wind’s howl outside the window, you knew it was time. Still holding the whore’s limb and bloodied bastard in your hand, you raced to find Grey Wind. If your suspicions were true, most of the archers for House Frey were already inside the Great Hall while the feast was happening. If you didn’t hurry, you and the men Grey Wind gathered would be too late. You managed to locate him quickly and were relieved to find thousands of men behind him as he immediately trotted to your side.

“Queen Talisa Maegyr is a traitor working for the Lannisters!” you loudly roared. “She belongs to House Marband—one of their vassal houses! Tywin Lannister had sent her to spy on and seduce your king!”

You raised the dead babe high above your head for all the men to see. “The babe in her stomach is not even Robb’s! If you wish for proof, see for yourself!”

You flung its body to the nearest man. He picked it up, and you can see his eyes widen and fill with rage before confirming your words as truth.

“BLONDE!” he bellowed for all his comrades to hear. “BLONDE LIKE JOFFERY AND HIS WHORE MOTHER, HIDING IN THEIR RED SHIT-STAINED CASTLE!”

Cries and shouts of outrage and anger amongst the men. You watched with bated breath as the surge of revenge and the need for bloodshed filled their hearts. You then revealed that Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were also in a secret allegiance with House Lannister and watched as enraged spirits filled the men with enough fury to take down an army of ten thousand. The North needed something to boost morale, and here it was. You looked down at Grey Wind. He stared back into your eyes with the same loyalty he gives Robb, and you know what you must do.

With one swipe, you unsheathe your blade, ‘Purge,’ and raise it above your head as the men go silent.

You shouted before leading the charge into the keep. “COME WITH ME AND LET’S TAKE THESE FUCKING FREYS TO THEIR GRAVES!”

Grey Wind howled to the sky, and the men raised their weapons to let out their battle cries as they followed you, storming into the keep. You shouted orders for the Riverland archers to run to the upper levels to take down the Freys perched there. Your king’s direwolf raced ahead and took down any soldier that tried to cross him. By the time you and the men reached the doors leading to the Great Hall, all of Grey Wind’s face was soaked with spilled red liquid life save for his golden eyes.

You pushed the door open just in time to see Robb stagger back from the arrows piercing his chest. Just when Roose Bolton tried to deliver the final blow, Grey Wind let out a booming bark before dashing to Lord Bolton and clamping his teeth into his neck. Meanwhile, you went to where Theon was held and removed the heads of the men who were pinning him down with a single swing. You grabbed him by his doublet’s collar, yanked him to his feet, and shoved a spare sword in his hand.

“Grab Robb and his mother, and get out of here!” you ordered.

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you–”

“Dammit Theon! Don’t argue with me!” you shouted. “Just get Robb and Lady Catelyn somewhere safe!”

Theon looked at the chaos unfolding around him. “What about Queen Talisa?”

“She’s dead! I killed her!” you answered.

“WHAT?!” Theon’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

You rolled your eyes. “Tywin Lannister sent her to spy and fuck Robb – NOW, GO!”

Once you saw Theon take Lady Stark and they dragged Robb’s bleeding body to safety, you could finally focus on the fight. You focused your sights on every man who wore a Frey or Bolton sigil and didn’t stop until each one was lying at your feet. The blood spilled from each slash, stab, and chop from Purge soaked your clothes and caked your face. But it was as if a dark ritual had taken place, as their blood only seemed to empower each and every one of your attacks. Before long, it was too late for House Frey and House Bolton. Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were bleeding at the Northmen’s feet, and any reinforcements called were immediately subdued and taken into custody.

As far as you were concerned, the only Frey left in the hall was Roslin—but whether she and the rest of her sisters would keep their heads after their surviving brothers would soon lose theirs didn’t really matter to you.

“I’m alive,” Robb began while cupping your cheek, “because of you. The North survived because of you. How can I ever repay you?”

You held his hand. “I didn’t save you for your gratitude, Robb. I didn’t save you so that you could repay me with titles, money, or lands. I saved you because it was my duty. I saved you because I swore to that night Joffery called for your father’s head, and we named you ‘King of the North.’ I saved you because I…”

Robb titled his head. “Because you what?”

“Don’t make me say it,” you whispered.

“Because you love me?” he softly asked. Pressing his forehead to yours, he continued. “Because I do…you know I do.”

You shook your head. “No, Robb – please. Please don’t do this to me. Don’t say things you don’t mean to make me look less foolish.”

You tried to move back and away from the man you’ve longed after for as long as you could remember. But Robb took your hands and pressed them close to his chest as he implored you to remain by his side.

“That night, after they named me ‘King of the North.’ Do you remember? We were in my tent. I told you I wanted to be alone, but you refused to leave me. I cried and lashed like a screaming child, but you never left.”

This was getting too far. This wasn’t why you came here. “Robb, you need to listen to me–”

But Robb didn’t stop talking. “You just stood there – taking it until you finally took me in your arms and held me. You didn’t say a word; you just let me cry out my pain. Like that time when we captured the Kingslayer, you held my hand when I kneeled in front of the Whispering Wood to mourn the men I lost. You didn’t speak of how brilliant I was or how the lives lost were for a good cause; you let me be me and mourn.”

“Robb–”

“That’s when I knew I loved you – that I’ve always loved you. And then, when we kissed–”

“I’m leaving,” you blurted out, “to Maidenpool tomorrow morning.”

The silence between you two seemed to echo louder than any wind that howled during the fiercest storms. Shock was the first thing on Robb’s face before complete and utter horror took over.

You may have spoken too quickly. “Well, no…technically, I and…a few other riders will be headed to Maidenpool tomorrow morning. We need to prepare a ship for your voyage to Dragonstone.”

“…What?” His voice sounded so broken that you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You combed your fingers through the stray hairs in front of your face. Then, you took a deep breath to prepare for the little speech you had prepared for this moment. This was the plan you and all lords agreed on. It was a good plan, and it was going to work. That’s all you needed to believe to convince Robb.

“Stannis is the realm’s best chance for peace. Perhaps he’s too stubborn but needs more people on his council. Your lords and I decided it was best if you traveled to Dragonstone to try and convince him to become allies with us. But you still need a few more days to recover. So, by the time you arrive at the docks, the ship will be ready. That’s why I – we’re traveling to Maidenpool… to travel to Dragonstone.”

“And after?” Robb breathily asked. His grip on you tightened in desperate hopes of keeping you close. “After we speak with Stannis, we’ll come back? You and me—we’re coming back together?”

You looked away. “You’ll be coming back…along with everyone else. But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

“But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

Robb dropped his hands as if you burned him. You were lying. You had to be – you weren’t genuinely thinking about…about leaving him.

“No,” he panted with terrified eyes. “No, no, no, please.”

You cupped his face. “Robb, please understand–”

“What’s there to understand?!” he cried out. “I love you! And you love me – and yet you’re leaving me! Why?”

“You don’t love me,” you countered. “You’re only saying you love me because you’re angry and hurt by Talisa–”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about that whore,” he spat out.

You rolled your eyes. “Robb, please. You married her. You took her as your wife and nearly ruined the North because of that choice. Of course, you loved her. And, understandably, you’re lashing out because she betrayed you. But don’t lie to me and say you didn’t love her.”

“(Y/N), love,” he beseechingly thought, “you have no idea how wrong you are.”

Robb snarled like the wolf he was at your words. “I married her because I thought she was carrying my child, and I didn’t want my future heir to be a bastard.”

“Even so, that doesn’t explain why–”

You were going to hate him for what he was about to say. “Because you refused me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his shameful reveal. Robb never felt more rueful and penitent of his naivety than now. The last thing he wanted was your disgust and hatred, but he needed you to understand how long he’s loved you. He needed you to realize that you were always the one who held his heart and sanity – without you, he was nothing, as was proven by the Freys and Boltons’ betrayal.

“Robb, I…I don’t – I don’t understand,” you stammered. Your eyes showed that your mind was running amok with questions and a desperate need for clarification. “Wha-…what are you talking about?”

Robb took a deep breath and tried to swallow the lump lodged in his throat.

“That night when my bannermen named me ‘King,’ you followed me to my tent. I kept lashing at you like an angry child, but you never left my side. And then…we kissed, and it led to more. The following day, I wanted to find you – to declare my love for you fully. But every time I got near you…you turned away like I was poison. That’s why I turned to Talisa…to try to forget about you.”

Your eyes widened in horror as your chest moved up and down with shaky breaths. “You broke your vows with Walder Frey…was because of me? You bedded and married Talisa because of me? …I hurt you… a-a-and–” You let out a trembling sob. “–Oh gods, this is all my fault! I-i-if I hadn’t confused you that night–”

Robb could feel you slipping away and continued to try to tether you to him.

“No, my love,” he cooed. “You never confused me. You’re not listening to me. I’ve always loved you, even before that night.”

Robb tried to hold you close, but you harshly shoved him back and stood. He watched as tears continued to fill your eyes, and your face carried an expression that could only be described as overwhelming guilt. Robb flung the covers off him and tried to walk towards you, but each step he took closer to you made you step further back.

You stared at him with a shameful expression. “Robb, I…I was wrong to let things escalate between us. You had just been declared king and were grieving for your father, and I took advantage of your grief and vulnerability–”

Robb tenderly held your face. “No, no, no—you didn’t, though. (Y/N) That night…you gave me your love. You didn’t say it, but you gave me your love, and I gave you mine. I never regretted that night or laying with you. How you spurned my attempts to connect with you afterward—that was what hurt me the most.”

“Robb…” you sobbed his name as tears strolled down your cheeks. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted…I thought if I weren’t beside you…I’d also be protecting you from distractions from the war and your duty to the Freys – oh gods, I’m so sorry.”

You put your hand over your face. “Robb, if that night never happened…if I never followed you to your tent then…then, we wouldn’t be in this mess! All of this is my fault! Talisa, the Lannisters, the broken vow with Walder Frey – the North is more vulnerable than ever, and it’s because of me! …I mutilated a pregnant woman and murdered her unborn child.”

Robb helplessly watched as you continued to blame yourself for his foolishness. Knowing you would want your privacy, he sent Grey Wind away to guard his tent. Gods, his father would be so ashamed of him if he saw him now. He watched as you fell to the ground and began to weep out apologies to every soldier who was murdered by the Boltons and Freys at the Red Wedding.

…Lucas Blackwood…Dacey Mormont…Patrek Mallister…Robin Flint…Ser Wendel Manderly…Owen Norrey…And over three hundred other men and soldiers whose blood were spilled that night.

You even begged for forgiveness from the old gods and new ones, for the blood that belonged to Joy Marband that will forever remain on your hands, along with the stolen breaths of her unborn son.

But then the tears stopped…and an eerie calm cloaked the tent. Your eyes were red and swollen, but a spark of mad clarity was dancing in them. Very slowly, you stood with your head still bowed.

“I have to leave,” you whispered. “I have to leave and never come back. If I stay, I’ll only continue to ruin you and our cause more than I already have.”

You turned away to leave, but Robb reached out to stop you before you could take another step. He begged you to look at him, pleading for you to listen to reason before making any rash decisions. When you stubbornly refused, he grabbed your jaw and forcefully turned your head to face him. His crystal-blue eyes were wide with fear and misty from anguish. He had to make you understand that your leaving was not an option.

“(Y/N), look at me—please, love,” Robb implored. " If you leave me, I will never recover. If you dare leave my side, I will tear all of Westeros apart—leaving no stone unturned, no cave unsearched, no village left unplundered. We belong together. You and me – ruling the North, side-by-side in Winterfell. Us, together, spending every night in each other’s arms, with each morning beginning by being greeted by our children.”

He pulled your face closer until your lips were only a few inches away, and your individual breaths intermingled to become one. You want that life with him—just as he wants that life with you. So why can’t you embrace it and share it with him?

You shut your gaze from him and tried to choke down the pain. “It doesn’t matter what either of us wants. All that matters right now is what we need. What matters is how we can gather ourselves from these losses and try to form allies. And if me being here distracts you from that, then…then I need to leave.”

Robb determinedly shakes his head. “No, no – I don’t accept that.”

“Robb–” you tried to reason, but all of your pleas were cut off when he pressed his lips against yours.

And just like that – all words floated away like debris falling into a steady river.

A warm and tingling sensation ran down (Y/N)’s body as their lips met, and she closed her eyes to fully succumb to the sensation. She knew that she should have pushed him away immediately. But as Robb continued to hold her face gently to deepen the kiss, all sense of reason fled from (Y/N)’s mind when his lips moved against hers with gentle and firm urgency. In that moment, nothing mattered – not the messy past, the unstable present, or the uncertain future. At that moment, (Y/N) felt completely free of all worries and fears as Robb’s hands began to trail down to wrap his arms around her waist to hold her closer while (Y/N) wrapped her arms over his neck.

Despite the constriction of their lungs, neither wanted to part. If they could die in this embrace, then so be it. (Y/N) felt every hard, warm muscle of Robb’s body pressed against hers as they began to walk back until the back of his knees hit his cot’s edge. They tumbled onto the cot, and the fall caused Robb to fall on his back with (Y/N)’s soft and supple frame to press further against him. He slightly winced in pain, which caused the two lovers to finally part. As (Y/N) stared down at her king with a concerned expression, Robb thought an angel was with him.

He stared at her flushed cheeks and lust-glazed eyes with naked longing. Her (h/c) strands tumbled to form a curtain hiding their faces. Staring at the mythic beauty over him, Robb knew he wanted this with (Y/N) forever. Meanwhile, (Y/N) gently swept his curls from his face before trailing her hands down his bandaged chest to search if any wounds had been opened.

“Do you need me to stop?” she asked, her heart beating a hundred miles a minute. “You’re still healing, it might be best if we–”

“If you even think of finishing that sentence with ‘stop,’” Robb interjected. “I’ll bind your hands and take you from behind over and over until the only word you can say is my name – just to show you and everyone else that I could be dying from a cut-off leg if it means I can have you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and giggled. “You’re so dramatic sometimes. I just don’t want you bleeding out and dying before I finish.”

Robb sat up, wrapped his arms around her, and forced her to straddle him. The sudden realization that Robb had been naked this entire time had somehow escaped (Y/N)’s attention as she felt the evidence of his heavily growing arousal against her body. His lips hovered as his warm breath hit her skin, and his low-timber voice whispered into her ear.

“At least you know where this night will take us,” he huskily growled. “Because I don’t plan on stopping until your womb is so full of my seed – it leaks from your cunt.”

He lowered his hands to grasp her hips before trailing them down to sink his hands over her ass. Showing his canines with a lecherous grin, Robb teasingly ground his hips against hers. He rubbed his hardening manhood against her warm core and reveled in the gasps and whimpers escaping her plumped lips. (Y/N) threw her head back as she could no longer hold back her cries of ecstasy. Taking full advantage of her exposed neck, Robb latched his lips just under her and traced the column of her neck with his soft, hot lips. The feeling of his lips combined with the scruff of his beard against her skin was nothing less than euphoric.

“Oh, Robb,” she breathily panted as their bodies rocked together in sync. “Gods, don’t stop!”

Her hands roamed until her fingers fisted around his dark copper curls. (Y/N) felt her lower body clench when he bit on a pulse point before giving languid strokes of his tongue on it. The contrast between his hot, wet tongue and the chill of his breath when he blew on it gave her goosebumps. (Y/N) softly pushed him back as she longingly gazed into his sapphire-ice pools with her (e/c) eyes and twirled one of his russet curls with her finger. Robb leaned forward and pressed a small peck on her lips as an overwhelming feeling of love encompassed him at her smile.

“I love you,” he sighed out, “do you know that? I love you, (Y/N). I love you so much.”

(Y/N) wanted so desperately to say it back, but the words failed. Seeing how much his love struggled, Robb cupped her cheek and reveled in her warmth as she nuzzled into his palm.

“You don’t have to say now,” he reassured her. “I just—I just want you to know that. Promise me no matter what, you know that.”

(Y/N) nodded. “I promise,” she said with a trembling voice. “I…I want it to say back. But I just…with everything that’s happened—I can’t help but feel like…if Red Wedding wasn’t going to be the thing that causes us to lose this war, I’m so scared of what will.”

Robb pressed a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s temple. “Don’t be scared. I know we’ll make it. We will win this war and take King’s Landing from the Lannisters. And when we do, Sansa will finally be free, and we can all return home.”

“To where you’ll rule the North as King in Winterfell,” (Y/N) mused in a wistful tone. “It feels like a sin to even dream of it now.”

Robb stroked his thumb over her cheek. “It’ll be your home, too.”

(Y/N) gave her beautiful king a genuine but sad smile. “I don’t want to talk about the future right now.”

Robb’s brow furrowed at her foreboding words. “What do you want to talk about?”

When (Y/N) pulled away and stepped off his lap, Robb was prepared to chase her through the camp naked if she dared run away while he was in this state. But she just stepped to the center of the space before removing her boots, followed by her stripping the dark leather breeches slowly down until the bare skin of her legs was revealed. She then lifted her tunic over her head along with her chest binder.

Robb was so painfully hard just from looking at her. He cursed himself for thinking he could ever be happy with Talisa, knowing that perfection was standing before him in his tent. His eyes drank in the sight of (Y/N)’s naked body as if looking away would kill him. He took it all in, from every scar that faded to a pale sliver to every beauty mark unique to her. He wondered if she truly knew how beautiful she was…if she understood how much she had completely and utterly bewitched his soul just with her presence. He wondered if she knew how much he wanted to kneel at her feet so that he could beg for her permission to let him worship her for the rest of his life.

(Y/N) began to walk toward him, and it felt as if the world around them was fading into incoherence, and only the two of them were left. When she finally reached him, she took his hand and placed it over her heart. She wanted him to feel it racing from his touch, from his gaze. Then, she lowered herself until her eyes leveled with his as she sat on the cot’s blankets. With her hands, she cupped his face and poured all her love for her king from her eyes.

“I’m tired,” she sighed. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this…of pretending I don’t want you. But most of all…I’m so tired of pretending that I…that I don’t love you.”

It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders as (Y/N) finally confessed her love for her king, Robb Stark. The man she marched with from Winterfell when Joffery first imprisoned his father. The man whom she fought beside and watched mourn for every good man who fell fighting for him. The man she’s loved since before she knew what love meant.

(Y/N) let out a heavy sob. “Because I do, Robb. I do love you. Gods, I love you so much – not just as a soldier loves their king, but as a woman who loves a man.”

Robb hadn’t realized he was crying until (Y/N) wiped a tear with her thumb. He took his hand from her chest and pulled her face towards him until their lips met again. Wet laughter mixed with tears and kisses made for a strange sight for an outsider, but it was a moment filled with more love and happiness than these two dared to hope. The way their bodies moved and swayed before (Y/N) fell on her back underneath Robb Stark as he hovered above her looked more akin to an awkward entanglement of limbs than an impassioned embrace. But for the two lovers, kissing each other seemed as easy as breathing and soothing like a gently falling summer snow. (Y/N) marveled at how easy it was to kiss Robb. It almost felt organic, with how naturally drunk they became by the taste of the other.

Soon, the kiss became more heated as (Y/N) and Robb grew more hungry to explore more of each other’s bodies. The more heated Robb kissed her, the more eager (Y/N)’s hands grew to explore his strong, muscular body. Her hands caressed his warm skin, and her fingers softly traced the scars that made him all the more desirable. His lips trailed to her chin and traveled down her neck until he had just reached the tops of her breasts. Grinning at how hard she was breathing, he took one breast in his hand and twisted her nipple. A needy cry left her lips at his harsh tugging before turning into a high-pitched whine when he bit the other.

Pleasure coursed through (Y/N)’s body like blue-hot lightning as her back arched into his body, and her entire frame felt paralyzed from it. She felt her core leaking from arousal as Robb’s hard, throbbing member was pressed against her stomach. Deciding that if he waited any longer, then he would likely burst, Robb used one hand to roam down (Y/N)’s body until he settled in the special place between her legs. He then took the other breast and tugged its nipple between his teeth before using his other hand to tug and twist the one previously in his mouth. Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s mind was so clouded in lust that she could not feel Robb stroking her clit with one finger before sinking two fingers inside her walls.

“Fuck…your walls are so tight on my fingers,” he huskily groaned as (Y/N) wept in ecstasy. “Such a wicked girl…avoiding your king and keeping this sweet cunt away from me. Every time I laid with that whore, I had to fight the urge to call out your name when I spilled into her. But you won’t do that anymore, will you? You know better to run now, right?”

“I-I-I won’t run! I’m yours, Robb! I only belong to you!” She stammered as Robb began to rub tight circles with his now-soaked fingers on her clit. She thrashed against the covers, fisting the furs on his bed to somehow anchor her. Her core tightened, and no matter how much she wanted to close her legs, his hips prevented her from doing so. As a result, (Y/N) had to take it and continue drowning in the pleasure that was Robb Stark’s love.

“Good girl,” Robb darkly chuckled as he straightened his back and placed his hands on the back of her thighs to spread them wide. He took his cock in his hand and rubbed its leaking tip against her folds. “Are you ready for me to take you? Are you ready to know how a wolf breeds his mate?”

(Y/N) quickly nodded. She couldn’t take the waiting any longer. “Please, Robb,” she begged. “Please take me—make me yours!”

With a single thrust, Robb plunged his entire length inside until he bottomed out, and the tip of his manhood kissed the entrance of her womb. The stretch of his thick, hard member against her walls gave the most delicious burn that made (Y/N) peak from the feeling of how deep he was inside her. Meanwhile, Robb’s face snarled at how warm and tight (Y/N)’s cunt felt around him. As her walls tightly clamped down on his length, he bit inside his cheek so hard that the coppery taste of blood coated his tongue to prevent him from erupting right then and there. His hand traveled to her hair and sharply tugged it back so that he could roughly kiss her. His blood only further aroused (Y/N)’s lust for the man inside her as she considered it another sign that she had tasted more of her king and another piece was inside her. Emboldened by this action, she wrapped her tights around his hips to further mold their bodies as one.

The way (Y/N)’s body was pressed against his inflamed Robb’s ardor as he pulled out until only the tip was still inside before roughly thrusting himself in fully. Each time he pulled out and pushed back in, she gave him a symphony of cries and begging that could be heard throughout the camp. The slapping of their skin from each thrust inside of (Y/N) made him grip her hips so tightly that she could already feel the bruises forming on her skin as a steady pace had been reached.

Sweat built on both the lovers’ bodies as (Y/N) began to dig her nails into Robb’s skin and claw long scratches down his back. The twinge of pain only made the young king want to sink deeper and deeper into her until they became one inseparable being. Robb tried to remind himself to go slower to avoid harm (Y/N), but one look in her eyes told him there was no need to hold back.

“Take me,” her eyes begged. “Make me completely yours from this day until my last days.”

Upon her request, it felt as if a dormant beast had taken over Robb, as all he could think about was how much he wanted to take her faster, harder, and rougher – until the only word she could say was his name. As he set off at a new pace, (Y/N)’s eyes rolled back as she began to babble out incoherent cries and moans. It felt like there was no part of her mind, body, and soul that wasn’t wholly drowning from waves of pleasure crashing into her.

She was sure the following day, she would do everything in her power to avoid everyone’s eyes, as they all likely heard her moaning for their king like a common whore. But for now, at this moment, she wanted to only exist for Robb and continue drowning in his love.

Soon, it wasn’t long before the familiar feeling of a knot tightening inside her began to coil more tautly as Robb continued to lavish her in his adoration. (Y/N) could feel her pleasure climbing higher and higher until the knot grew so tight that it snapped. It felt as if a dam had burst, and a heavy flood of pleasure crashed into every muscle of her body. The release had made her feel as if her body had reached new heights of pleasure so immense that it became almost painful as tears started to roll down her cheeks. (Y/N)’s eyes shot wide, and she opened her mouth as her back arched into him, but no sound was made. There was nothing that could adequately convey the

Feeling (Y/N) release on his cock, Robb growled as he felt the last vestiges of his sanity snap and lost all composure. He began to increase his pace until his thrusts became rough and frantic to chase his end. He pushed her thighs until they were pressed against her chest before wildly thrusting deeper inside her walls to feel more of her heat. He was able to fuck into her once, thrice, ten more times before his body went taut, and he spilled his seed into (Y/N)’s womb. Her soaked, vice walls gripped around him and tried to milk all of him in desperate want to carry his child.

As Robb felt the last of his cum leave him, a wave of exhaustion crashed into him, and his arms were no longer able to prevent his body from falling atop (Y/N). Panting for air and resting his head in the crook of her neck, Robb turned to rest on his side while making sure her body was still connected to his. His touch became soothing and gentle as he whispered his dreams and hopes for a child with her hair and his eyes to be borne from this night. She tiredly giggles as he delicately kisses her cheeks, nose, temple, and brow while he talks.

He wanted to weep tears of joy. He felt almost…blessed. After aimlessly wandering in a barren wasteland with no clear end, Robb felt as close to peace as the first time he shared a bed with (Y/N). Robb wraps his arms around her frame and brings furs to cover them as a chilling breeze enters the tent, and (Y/N) shivers from the chill. He tightens his embrace as sleep takes over him.

He whispers in her ear, “I love you, (Y/N). We will be so happy together. I know we will.”

She slightly hesitates before replying. “I am yours, Robb. I swear this to you.”

Her king was so lost in his bliss that he didn’t notice the sadness in her eyes and the tremble in her voice.

A gentle stream of light stirred Robb awake. He stretched his arms and blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Based on how loud it was outside his tent, it was late in the day. He reached out to hold you once more…when he felt your side of his bed feel cold. Immediately alarmed, Robb shot up and looked around his surroundings.

There was no sign of you anywhere.

Your clothes…your bag…your sword…even your bloody scent was gone!

Robb shot out of bed and hastily dressed himself in only his breeches and doublet to begin searching for you. But just as he was about to leave after putting on his boots, a small scroll had been placed in the middle of his desk. He dashed over and quickly opened it. The instant relief from recognizing your handwriting cruelly died as he read over your words, and he could feel his heart breaking.

Every word I said last night holds true – from this day to my last day. I am yours, Robb Stark. But you cannot be mine.

Also, I plan to make this a...3 part series? Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Please comment your thoughts and reblog if you think more people would like to read this!

Tagging: @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @llonelygoddess, @arcielee, @countrymusiclover, @yns-world, @axelsagewrites, @bre99, @katzoinks, @asongofrhaenyra, @rise-my-angel, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @anewpersonthatexists, @bogbutteronmycroissant, @sylasthegrim, @writingsofwesteros, @julessworldd , @dipperscavern

#robb stark x reader #robb stark x female reader #robb stark x fem reader #robb stark fanfic #robb stark smut #game of thrones fix it #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones fic #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #dark robb stark #dark fic #my writing

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weirdmorefics · 25 days

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benedict with a younger sister who he catches at one of the parties he goes to talking to a man who has less than innocent intentions with her and she’s oblivious and just thought it would be a fun place to drink bcs that’s what she’d heard when was out at the park earlier that day

A/N- Sorry for it taking a while I really am starting to believe in the fanfiction curse. I also made up the seedy guy who had unhonorable intentions in this story just an FYI.

Readers Pronouns- She/Her

TW- Sexism

Word Count- 1,653

Summary- Benedict goes to a local gathering of artists and happens to find his darling younger sister enjoying the company of some of Benedict's unsavory friends.

Unhonorable Intentions

I am a rake. I take no shame in this fact. I am allowed to be a free spirit it is my birthright as the second-born son. No obligations no responsibility. I would loathe to be in Anthony's shoes. Though Y/n seems to have made it her mission for me to walk in his shoes tonight. What is she even doing in a place like this? Last I knew she preferred literature over the arts. Yet she hangs on a man's arm as he explains his next work. in progress that he is sure will be his Magnus opus. I glare at them hopefully sister notices my gaze burning into her side so I can continue my night as if nothing happened. However, when I glare at them I realize who the man she is talking to is and now I know there is no way I can continue my night. Unfortunately said man felt my gaze instead of Y/n and smiled and pulled her forcefully along with him.

"Bridgerton! It's grand to see you! We've missed you at the club!" Alexander shakes my hand roughly and I return it with an insincere smile. "Saw you eyeing my new muse, I regret to inform you I don't share." God, I want to gag as I know what he does with his so-called muses. Y/n smiles at being called his muse she does love it when I draw her but this man does not have honorable intentions. He and I have very different definitions of what a muse is. My idea of a muse is someone who inspires you to create, Alexander's idea of a muse is a woman to sleep with and then abandon.

I straighten back to assert my taller posture over the man, "And I regret to inform you your so-called muse is my darling baby sister." I look down at her with demanding eyes, "I do say it is time we get back to Mother. Isn't Y/n?"

She looks taken aback by my tone, "What do you mean? I just got here."

Alexanders' grin increases tenfold, "A Bridgeton! Benedict I had no idea you were hiding such a beauty to yourself! If I was her brother I'd never let her out of the house either." This man is truly revolting the artist community here is unfortunately very small and I have to find a way to remain civil.

Y/n smiles, "So you know Alexander? That's too bad really I was hoping to learn some different art techniques from him to impart to you! I had no idea you knew such a famous artist!"

I grit my teeth, "Famous now Alexander are we?"

This flusters him for a moment but he recovers quickly, "Aren't all artists famous in a different sort of way?"

I want to laugh at such an absurd response… sadly Y/n is far too naive for her own good.

"I agree wholeheartedly! Benedict is the most famous artist in our family! I'm quite jealous of his talent I must admit! It makes sense he would be at such a regal event filled with so much talent. To be truthful I overheard this soiree would have fabulous drinks on this morning's promenade and couldn't resist," she gushes over my talents and breaks my heart for not being more present in my siblings' lives.

Anthony just seemed to have it all handled, Daphne was married off, Eloise could certainly hold her own ground, Francessa was so busy with her studies, and Mother had Gregory and Hycanith under control. Even though Y/n is Eloise's twin she couldn't be any more different she believes the best in everyone and is too quick to forgive in my opinion and Alexander is taking advantage of that and I will not let that stand.

I smile down at Y/n, "Y/n you downplay your own talents no need to associate with a man whose talents consist of preying on women through false pretenses."

Her eyes widen to the size of quarters, "Benedict you can not make such outrageous claims!"

I pretend to not know exactly what she is talking about, "You mean your talents? Your poetry talent is outrageous and that's not a claim it's just a fact."

She blushes at the compliment but for some asinine reason still wants to defend Alexander. Though it seemed her brain could not keep up with the unusual compliment from me and the unflattering words I spoke about Alexander she just stuttered unintelligible anger, shock, and joy all marking her face. Alexander on the other hand was just fuming red.

"First you insult me Bridgerton then you demean poetry as a genre by encouraging a woman to write it." he snarls.

I have never seen Y/n turn so quickly and before anyone in the room knows what's happening a resounding slap is heard over all the chatter and everyone turns to the noise. Alexander's eye is twitching and a red welt in the shape of my sister's hand is forming on his face. He glares at her with murderous eyes but she holds her head high I have never seen her this determined and it makes me wonder what else I missed while she was growing up and I was galavanting around with men like Alexander.

She points an angry finger at him like Mother would when she would scold us, "Gentleman like yourself actually I wouldn't even call men like you gentleman but that's beside the point. Men like you say women are too emotional to do anything but care for the home. Poetry is all about emotion it's supposed to make you feel something like the art you make, or apparently don't make from what I just learned from Benedict's side comment. I would also like to remind you who is in charge of our country or rather what sex they are?"

All eyes are on us and Alexander looks like he might strangle Y/n with his two hands if the vein bulging out of his forehead is any indicator.

"Oh and by the way when I complimented your line work on your latest piece I was lying it was shit but you know how men can be so emotional I didn't want to hurt your feelings," she fake pouted. This is definitely not the young sister I once knew she may still be naive but she has now learned to use her talent with words as a knife.

Alexander's arm shoots to roughly grab her but I am quick to block, "I'm Alexander but we must be going. It was so nice talking to you as always. I would definitely take my dear sister's words under advisement to spend more time working on your line art." I then pull him very closely into my body and if anyone hadn't seen the previous incident they would have thought it was just two chaps hugging. I whisper, "Less time with lines of ladies and coke you might find yourself able to make straight lines. And if I ever hear you laid a hand on my sister I will kill you myself." I roughly release him and he scrambles backwards ungracefully as all eyes on him.

I link arms with Y/n, "Come on we must really be going now."

Once we make it outside away from prying eyes she quickly bursts into sobs, "Gods what have I done! I was just so angry he'd judge me just based on my sex. God, what if Lady Whistledown writes about me!" She starts pacing with her hands on her forehead and this is the Y/n I am all too familiar with, " Oh God what if Mama reads it! What if I ruin the Bridgerton name? Anthony will never forgive me!"

I clap and quickly gain her attention back, "You certainly won't be the first Bridgerton featured in Lady Whistledown and I am certain you will not be the last."

"Not helping!' She shouts back.

"No one will be mad you stood your ground… in fact, I am quite proud of you."

Her eyes study me, "Are you serious? I just slapped your friend in a soiree full of your peers."

"Anthony was more of an acquaintance," I add.

She rolls her eyes, "That is not the point!"

I sigh, "Yes, I am proud. You defended your honor and didn't need my help to do so. Though I am sure any of your brothers would be there in a heartbeat to defend it including me."

She smiles, "You're proud of me."

"I am not saying it again," I state.

she starts to repeat you're proud of me in a sing-songy voice.

"My pride in you is diminishing and my worry is growing. I think I will be around more often seems like Anthony isn't keeping a watchful enough eye on you if he let you go to a seedy event like this."

She tilts her head, "But you were at the event?"

"Exactly I only attend seedy events, though it appears now I must reform. Think of me has your second Anthony," maybe having responsibilities won't be so bad if I get to see Y/n chew out more men like Alexander.

She groans, "I don't want another Anthony how will I ever do anything fun."

"That's the point Y/n," I smile.

She groans, "I hope Lady Whistledown writes you into the story and makes you sound dreadful."

"As long as she writes how daring and smart my younger sister is we will be on good terms," I smile as she groans again at her failed attempt to get under my skin.

"Thank you, I guess," she responds.

I may be late in helping my siblings but at least they all still have some more growing to do and I plan to be there for all of it.

#bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x you #bridgerton request #bridgerton siblings #bridgerton!sister x reader #bridgerton!sister x y/n

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skrunksthatwunk · 2 months

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every time i remember hiei and yusuke's little ritual of sparring whenever they see each other for the first time in a while (usually as they're about to face a big threat) and how hiei just wordlessly attacks him and yusuke takes it with good humor (for the most part) i lose my fucking mind and i need someone else to understand so so bad

hiei opening with unexplained violence, acting like the murderous demon everyone takes him to be, and yusuke seeing through it as just how hiei is, and meeting him where he is in this non-malicious but combative intricate ritual bs. they met through violence and communicate through it but it's out of an admiration for skill, for what can't be said with words, for their reliance on each other as equals, as teammates. they share a past of ostracization, resentment, and a desire to burn the world down for its treatment of them the others don't. hiei feels seen in and understood by yusuke. i don't think it needs to be said that hiei doesn't have many people he considers equals, or peers, or teammates. and yusuke was the first to trust him. to see him as more than a monster. to have blind, unearned faith that he could do good, and that he could be better. yusuke changed him. his trust and friendship changed him. and so for that ritual to rely on that trust—the thought that hiei wouldn't actually turn on him, wasn't trying to betray him or hurt him or get his revenge like he used to claim—makes those scenes so poignant (read: makes me want to howl into the night air). it's about the dance. it's about what they know they have in common beneath the posturing and machismo, the ways they are alike deep, deep down, and the way they both know that and never speak of it.

i also think it's because hiei's afraid of losing him. it's especially obvious in chapter black, but even in DT he's got to make sure yusuke—a dumbass who only got his powers recently—is up to scratch. no matter how he feels about humanity, he doesn't particularly want to see yusuke lose everything he loves either. but mostly he couldn't stand to watch yusuke fall. and because he knows yusuke's in over his head, he's testing whether he has to distance himself and prepare for yusuke to abandon him (via death) like everyone else. he doesn't do this with kuwabara because (at least in the DT's case) he'd been training him. he knows, for the most part, what kuwabara can do. (he also doesn't have that same closeness, both because kuwabara doesn't trust him and, perhaps, because he's doing the distance thing pre-emptively bc he thinks he's weak, unlike yusuke). and he doesn't do this with kurama because he believes wholeheartedly in his skill, centuries of experience, and demonhood. humans are fragile, and hiei needs to reassure himself that yusuke isn't.

hiei claims he wants revenge and postures like a rival, but he never goes all out and he never tries this seriously. he fools around with yusuke because if yusuke lost and hiei proved his superiority, hiei would have to leave him behind. and as much as he wants to prove his strength, as hungry as he is for validation (centering fighting prowess because violent is all he's ever been allowed to be), he can't stand the thought of that. he feels that he is yusuke's equal and peer (and friend), whether they're equally strong or not, but because a part of him still thinks fighting's all that matters (and because he wants to protect him and thus himself), hiei must make himself believe that yusuke is as strong as him. so he checks in on him for reassurance via sparring, but never actually tries to hurt him. in conclusion, i am so normal

#i have so much love in my heart for kuwameshi and i respect kurahi but let it be known that before it all i was a yusuhi enjoyer #mostly because i was a hiei enjoyer and his relationship with yusuke is the most powerful to me. idk i love it when love changes people #BUT that said this all applies platonically as well. they care about each other so much guys #yyh #yu yu hakusho #hiei #yusuke urameshi #didnt proofread this sorry if it's a mess but im a mess ok #yeahh you guys all thought i forgot about yyh didntcha. joke's on you because that's my wife. my wife the television series yu yu hakusho #it always comes back to yunk yunk babeyyy

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sp4nkboy · 1 year

Text

Types of spankings I fantasize about:

“You’re getting 30 swats if absolutely nothing moves. Better try real hard, pet”

“You know what’s gonna happen if you keep talking like that. Do you want a spanking? No? Well hand me your pants and panties anyway. I need access to your bare bottom in case you keep being a brat”

“You don’t even have to take your jeans off for this one, mutt. I’m sure you’ll feel it well and good right through em.”

“A crying boy is a learning boy. Let’s make sure you really learn”

“Here we go. Timer’s set. Okay, three minutes of the wooden spoon for lying. Hold on tight, little girl.”

“I hope you cry. I want you to cry. I want you to learn from this, you deserve to be broken.”

“Tell me why you’re here, and what happens to disobedient girls? So what am I going to do to you? That’s right. Spank you hard, because you deserve it.”

“Aw, you think you’re forgiven because you were spanked already? Well daddy didn’t spank you yet, little one. We have these rules for a reason. If you get in trouble somewhere else, you’re in trouble at home, and because you couldn’t behave with my friends daddy has to paddle your naughty sore little bottom too.”

“Do you need a reminder of your place, stupid pup? It’ll only take me three minutes to warm that bottom of yours until you’re tearing up.”

“You better fix that attitude, honey. Or do you need some help?”

“These are gonna be hard and fast. No begging, no moving. This is happening, maybe next time you’ll think twice about doing that.”

“I’ve seen your tumblr, slut. Is this what you like? Getting hit like a little kid who needs an attitude adjustment? Daddy lecturing you over his knee and giving you a swollen blistered bottom? You like this? Getting put in your miserable place? Oh don’t start whining now, I’ve seen the blog. I know not to let you up until you’re sobbing and you can’t even beg bc you’re so incoherent.”

“A spanking? No dummy, a spanking is what good girls get for maintenance, like a little kid. I said that you earned a whipping. Isn’t that right? A thorough, hard whipping that leaves you with marks on your thighs, tits, cunt, and sit spots for days. It’s gonna hurt a lot more than a little spanking, and you will be thoroughly corrected. Don’t worry honey, all little slave girls need whippings sometimes.”

“Get closer, yeah that’s right, come here. Ask daddy what he thinks of your behavior”

“The neighbors said you were a brat today. Maybe I should make you stand in the corner with your blistered ass to give them a show.”

“I don’t care when you last got punished. Today is maintenance. If you weren’t so bad this week you wouldn’t have to be worried about how much your ass could take.”

“I’m sorry, pup. This is gonna hurt really bad. You know why I have to hurt you, right?”

“Aw princess, you’re still raw and bruised from yesterday! Still, I have to warm your stupid little bottom up again, it’s the only way you learn!”

“You were such a good mutt this week! But you still need a sore bottom, princess. You know that’s the only way to keep you respectful and nice.”

“Come here. I wanna see some stripes on your thighs. Oh, no reason”

“You’re getting spanked the second you get home. I want you to fold your pants and panties and leave them by the door, then immediately find me to ask for your correction”

“Aww. It hurts? You can’t take it? I thought you were a man, honey. I’m giving you a man’s punishment. I guess I might consider going lighter if you can convince me that you’re really a little girl.”

“Everyone upstairs can hear you pet, so why don’t you start counting? One sir please spank my whore cunt”

“You’re already forgiven doll, I know you won’t do it again, but I’m just not done hurting you yet”

“I’m bringing a friend over today and I need you to be on your best behavior. Go get your paddle and your shortest skirt. If you don’t want him to see your red bottom you’ll need to have the perfect posture. My graceful wife,”

“When I get home I want dinner on the stove and your bare bottom in the corner waiting.”

“You can either obey me right this second, or do it later with bruises on your bottom and legs”

“This is gonna be a proper beating, doll. I’m gonna spank you the way your dad should have while you were a kid. I’m having to do all his work for him, training you to be a good submissive wife.”

“If you take your foot off the floor again I’ll take my belt to your cunt until you bleed.”

“I want to make you cry today, sweetheart. I’m not gonna stop until you’re sobbing genuine tears. You think you’re sorry now, but wait until I’m done with you”

“Wear these shorts today. I want your friends to know you disobeyed me”

“Looks like your disrespectful little bottom is pretty marked up. Why don’t you spread your legs for me, doll? I’m sure there’s some more space to whip. Oh look! Your pretty inner thighs are untouched! Let’s turn them screaming red.”

“Reach back and spread your ass. I’m gonna hit your pretty hole until you break and beg me to rape you. Your choice, omega. How badly do you want to hold onto your pride?”

“I heard that a well oiled bottom makes a spanking sting more. Bring me that bottle, I think you’re due for some punishment anyways.”

“I’m gonna tie your little clitty up and hit it until you break.”

“You are in for it. Go wait in the corner while I cool off enough to punish you properly.”

“Bad girl, remind me to whip you tonight.”

“Go cut a switch. Actually, cut three. I’ll whip your tits too.”

“You thought we were done? Oh that was just part one dummy. No rubbing.”

“Keep asking me to stop, the power I have over you gets me off.”

“Be fucking quiet. As this rate I might as well spank you in the front yard.”

“If sitting on your stool In the corner doesn’t make you cry I haven’t done my job”

“Count these. One, please take care of my attitude, sir”

“You were never caned in school? Really? Well you certainly deserved it. Come here, let me educate you.”

“No safe word tonight, doll. This is a real punishment.”

“No I will not go harder, this is a play spanking. I want your cheeks to be a pretty cute pink for me to look at while I fuck your ass. If you keep that language up, however, I may have to make you bite down on some soap.”

“Put my cock in your mouth. You’re getting a swat for every second it takes to make me come.”

“I had a stressful day at work doll. Let me get some tension out by beating and raping you.”

“I’m gonna let my friend here spank you, severely. He knows all your tricks, how you pretend to cry early on before you get to the real tears, and how to stop you from squirming off his lap. Hopefully the embarrassment of being punished by a stranger will teach you humility.”

“We need to talk about your behavior. Go ahead and strip.”

“Stay still and take it. Show me you’re sorry. Prove to me that you’re willing to learn, that you appreciate me whipping your ass.”

“Aww, doll. You said you’re happy to submit to me. Aren’t you? Happy to be my submissive wife? Then why are you crying? You should be happy to get punished and corrected. Why don’t you make a happy face for me? There you go. Say thank you, daddy. That’s right. Say thank you for taking the time to beat you.”

#domestic discipline #long post #spankme #t4t nsft

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fatuismooches · 2 years

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Okay, first of all..

YOUR WRITING AKSJAKSJAKAJAAK OMG I'M SQUEALING SO HARD, U DONT KNOW HOW MUCH HAPPINESS U BRING TO ME (ESPECIALLY UR CAPITANO IS SO 💓🥺😩💞), THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR MAKING SUCH A GOOD CONTENT TO A LOT OF US 💓💓💞🛐

second,

If ur request is still open and if u dont mind, may i request Capitano with a female reader that has an ability to heal whenever she sings? But her voice is so soothing that it makes him fall asleep 😅 (but he doesnt mind about it bcs thats the only time where he can finally release all of his tension and feel at peace) So everytime Capitano came back from a war and has some injuries, she will hold his hands and start singing to heal him while he slowly descent to his peaceful sleep

U dont have to do it if u are not comfortable with the idea and sorry for the bad english 😅

-🥝

♡ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ♡

synopsis: Capitano carries a great burden as a Fatui Harbinger, but it starts to take less of a toll when he's blessed with your lovely songs.

includes: capitano w/ fem! reader

notes: This is literally such a sweet request and I love this dynamic so much <33. I just know that Capitano would love someone the opposite of him!! I hope you like this!

You are his beautiful, perfect little maiden. Really, Capitano does not know how he got so lucky to have met someone as peaceful and soothing as you. And for you to fully reciprocate his feelings? To wholly love this monster, when he takes lives and you save them instead? He feels almost guilty but can’t give you up. And when you show him your magnificent ability, this feeling amplifies a lot more. He’s never cared much for weak people, but you’ve opened up his eyes some more to the abilities of others. You may not fight, but your songs lift the spirits, both physically and mentally, of the wounded soldiers and increase morale. Everyone quite literally loves you (cue Capitano in the back, jealous of the attention the rest of the soldiers are getting.) He’s a silent person by nature, so he never ever interrupts your singing. Shows his displeasure quietly if anyone else were to do so.

There’s only so much bandages and medicinal salves can do to treat wounds. You have to let time pass to fully recover. But nope, not anymore. Even if he gets the tiniest scratch, you’re running to him to you can sing the wound away. (Just think of Capitano trying to tend to the flowers like you do and ends up getting pricked by a thorn. Begins to do it on purpose so he can hear your songs more often. Honestly, he thinks it’s adorable how he’s so much more bigger and stronger than you, yet you get worried about him over anything.) He loathes to leave you alone, but duty calls of course. But something cute I think, is that you’d sing a song and record it on a Radiant Spincrystal so he could listen to it when he’s out fighting. (Don’t ask me how that would work. It just works because I said so!) So now every day after a battle, the whole camp can hear your singing voice coming from Capitano’s tent. No one says a word about how all of them can hear it, they enjoy it too after all and no one has the heart or guts to report this to their Lord Harbinger. Your singing really calms him down - if he’s having a rough day away from you he just plays the spin crystal and it relaxes him a lot. Tends to think about what kind of souvenir or trinket he should get you this time after he wins this war. Another thing - he likes to write down things about the scenery, people, animals, etc about the nation/area he’s visiting, so that you can use it as inspiration for your songs. Secretly feels really happy when you come up with something based on his notes.

But of course, nothing is better than the real thing in person. This is why you always make sure to sit by the window every day when your lover is supposed to be returning soon. To greet him with a welcome home melody! And boy, is he ever so internally excited for this every time. Everyone else sees his stiff, upright emotionless posture, but he’s literally beaming internally that he finally gets to hold you again, hear your lovely chirpy voice, feel your gentle caresses… a battle worn and torn warrior in love with his tender and soft healer at its finest. (It’s also amusing to think about the maids and butlers just standing there silently while you're draped over your lover singing a sweet tune to him. Capitano has learned to deal with it.)

The best part is when you urge him into your private quarters and badger him to take off all his heavy armor and clothing so you could heal him already. It’s always a mesmerizing process actually - the big, fluffy coat goes first and drops to the floor, then the multiple armor pieces he wears on different parts of his body. Finally comes the regular clothing that is quickly thrown off. Sometimes the wounds are small and infrequent, or they’re big. (Well, for the sake of the story let’s say that… who is wounding such a high ranking Harbinger lol.) And then you get to work, pressing your hands gently against the wounded areas and beginning to sing. You’ve memorized which songs he likes the best of course. The first few times you did this Capitano fell asleep sitting up and you were literally trapped in his lap. Now you make him lie down before you heal. And while Capitano has some… thoughts about your ability to make him doze off some quickly, he grows to not mind it. At first, he was cautious of it. He has concerns about appearing vulnerable in front of anyone, even you. He’s just not used to it. But he begins to wake up feeling more rested than usual. Of course, your healing made him feel better physically but these naps after hearing your singing just made him feel better. And he got to wake up to you clinging to his arm. You described this as him feeling “peaceful” since his body and mind were free of tension from your singing. He grows to look forward to injuries now…

Capitano also gets frequently worried about the state of your throat (he’s protective over you by a WHOLE LOT.) You’ve been singing for too long and your throat is getting all scratchy and hoarse? Too bad for the other soldiers - he’s escorting you to your shared bedroom so you can get some rest. The kind of lover who would actually hold the glass of water and tilt your head back so you can drink it. You are not lifting a finger after your performances. (Thankfully they have big cups that are big enough for his hands hehe.) And if there’s specific food you want to eat for your throat? You’re going to have it, no matter what. And if you ever lost your voice for a few days?! He would genuinely be so sad and make you stay in bed all day. I know he’d keep all of the notes you wrote down to communicate with him though. Haha, it’s very cute to imagine that Capitano is standing there, watching the recruits train menacingly, while you’re there on standby in case of any injuries, radiating sunshine. Everyone is used to you two strolling down the hallways, hand in hand, your singing filling the empty and desolate space while Capitano dutifully marches behind you. Quite an unusual pair, but a very good one.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #capitano #capitano x reader #capitano genshin #genshin capitano #capitano fluff #genshin impact capitano #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers #fatui

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multi-kpop-fanfics · 1 year

Note

imagine seungcheol manhandling + angry sex because your party dress had someone else's perfume scent on it

gonna group these two bcs they go very well together👀

tw: alcohol consumption, jealousy, manhandling, rough unprotected sex, car sex, public sex, degradation, possessiveness, mentions of breeding kink, orgasm denial, mentions of overstimulation, dom!Seungcheol, sub!fem!reader (kind of a brat)

"This scent makes wanna fucking puke".

It's not that Seungcheol hates that scent - on the contrary, it's very sweet and addictive. But it's not his scent.

And most of all, it's on your dress.

"It's just a perfume, Cheollie, nothing serious", you brush it off, "And it smells really nice, Wonwoo has exceptional ta-"

"One more word and you'll regret even sharing a drink with him", he spits angrily, taking a sharp turn towards an exit to the highway, stopping at an empty side.

"But I didn't say anything bad!", you defend yourself with a fake pout, "Unless you're getting jealous over something so trivial", you fight the urge to grin, but he's having none of it.

Seungcheol scoffs and undoes his seatbelt, getting out of the car, slamming the door shut and skipping to the passenger's side, opening the door.

"Get out", "No", you cross your arms in front of your chest, "I said. Get. Out", he repeats, eyes seething with rage. "Make me", you lean closer, smirking right into his face.

"Is that how you wanna play, princess? Fine by me", Seungcheol rips the seatbelt of your body, dragging you out of the car, lifting you over his shoulder to nearly slam you down on the hood of his car.

"Cheol! Out here?!", your yelp is cut short by his hands caging you between the cold surface and his muscular frame. "What? Are you scared that someone will pass by and see you getting railed like a whore in the open?", he slots his hips between your legs, grinding himself on your crotch, forcing your dress to ride up your thighs.

"You're not wearing any panties, are you, doll?", "...No", "And you were giggling and drinking with Wonwoo, with your pussy out in the open?", "So what about it?", you boldly ask, but it's already too late to take it back.

Seungcheol growls in annoyance, straightening his posture to unbuckle his pants just enough to let his cock spring free, guiding it over your pussy, just to make you beg for it.

"D-Don't tease", you whine, bucking your hips on his dick. "You think you're in the right place to demand, princess? Getting me all riled up and acting like a needy bitch around my friend?", he puts his hand over his shaft, pressing it directly over your swollen clit.

"You will only get what I am gonna give you, princess - I want to fuck you full of my cum until it's dripping from your slutty cunt on my car? You will take it", he picks up the pace of his thrusts, "I want to fuck you until you're a crying, moaning mess and you squirt all over my dick from overstimulation? You will take it", he continues, satisfied by your needy whimpers and the globs of slick running down your ass with each thrust he delivers.

"I-I'm gonna-", "Cum?", "Yes, fuck yes, please! It feels so fucking good, Cheol, please!", you almost cry, your hands desperately gripping his shoulders. But he only smirks and pulls his cock away, the cold air hitting your pussy, legs closing involuntarily from the loss of your orgasm.

"Did you forget already, princess?", "W-What?", "I didn't say I would make you cum", he licks his bottom lip hungrily.

"So you're going to take it, like my good little girl".

#svthub #scoups smut #seungcheol smut #svt scoups #choi seungcheol #svt smut #seventeen smut #seventeen #answered✨

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virgo-dream · 1 year

Note

heard u need some headcanons!! much love bc this time of year is ROUGH 🫂

Hob got really into the queer liberation movement and has gone on to be the resident bisexual professor that all the students know is a safe person to go to and helps out with the LGBT clubs on campus.

He gets really excited to share this with Dream, who is a little confused about why it's so important (having missed much of the fight) but immediately takes interest because omg Hob is into more than ladies??

Hob hosts the club at the New Inn and Dream shows up and all the students just Know by the way those two look at each other and spend the night trying to get them to admit it to each other.

Look. LOOK. I'M. I'm very NORMAL ABOUT THIS. Did you know the bi flag was unveiled in December 5th of 1988? Did you know HOB DIDN'T MEET DREAM IN JULY 7TH OF 1989 ANYWAY HAVE A FIC

Dream doesn't get it at first. He never really did get it, but only attributed it to the need humanity had for labels, for packing things into boxes and saying this goes here and that goes there. Sometimes, it led to this goes to heaven and you go to hell. It seemed to be a very common one, too. He was beyond that; his name said it all, Dream was endless. Not he nor she, not man nor creature, he was all there was to be and the nothingness beyond it. Gender and sexuality need not apply.

Still, it meant so much to Hob, that he'd have dreams about it. Nightmares too, for nights on end, and even if Dream begged Hob to allow him to take them away, Hob always declined, always braved through them. "If you take them, I'll forget how much it all means. I'll forget why I'm still fighting."

They sat at the New Inn one afternoon, while Hob graded papers and Dream had a cup of chamomile tea, but his eyes couldn't help but focus on a shiny pin on Hob's jumper shaped like a flag, the shades of pink, purple and blue a spot of proud colour in Hob's otherwise earthy colour palette.

"It's the bisexual pride flag."

"Hm?" Dream's eyes dart up to meet Hob's, tilting his head slightly. He wasn't sure if he should feel bad for being caught, because he wasn't sure what he was looking at in the first place.

"The pin. I wear it for my students, but also for myself. The kids feel safer I guess, knowing they have at least one of their own in the faculty. Can't say it doesn't make me feel good too."

Hob has a particular tone to his voice that makes Dream's heart sing in tune to its melody. It's a fuller sense of self, maybe more than Dream ever had in regards to his own identity. "...one of their own?"

"Oh, I– Sorry, those are pretty recent." Hob straightened himself up (ha) on the chair, his lecturing posture taking over. Dream liked when he did that. He liked to hear Hob speak of things he had deep knowledge of and passion for. "This one was created in 1988 by a queer activist called Michael Page. Had the pleasure of being there when it was first unveiled, but clearly it took a long time until I was able to wear something like this out in public and not be decked by some bloody homophobe."

It was starting to sink in.

"...I'm afraid I was not present for these developments." Dream saw the look on Hob's face, like he was ready to apologise. He raised a had to stop him, waving his concern away. "As far as I can remember, queer was not a form of self identification, but only a way to shun out those outside the established norm."

"Ah, yes. We reclaimed it, though. Or are reclaiming it. The 80s were crazy. All of them were, for me." Hob smiled at Dream, at their shared secret and at their years of now reestablished friendship.

"I think you're lonely."

Could it have been....? Could he have meant...?

"What does it mean for you, then?" Dream asks in a way he hopes sounds inconspicuous, pointing at the pin. He was hesitant to ask, afraid to be getting it all wrong.

"For me? It means I love whoever I love. Man, woman, either or neither."

The pride coming from Hob's words filled Dream with hope, something he had not felt in a long, long time. The look in his face then shifted onto something else, something he didn't quite understand. "...what about you? That is, if you're okay with talking about that. I don't want to overstep. Last thing I want is for you to walk out–"

"I won't, Hob." Dream knew Hob had reason for feeling that way. "I don't believe the terminology you have could define my experience. I have laid with mortals and gods alike, and have wore many faces and names. It is beyond human comprehension."

Hob seems takes a moment to think about what he'd just heard. Dream feels like he might have thrown too much at his human friend. "...I think I get it. But, and tell me to bugger off I'm wrong, do you prefer to be a particular way? To be with a particular sort of being?"

Dream. Didn't have an answer.

He never thought of what he preferred. He'd never felt in need of any sort of outside validation, but. That was a lie. He needed it. He just never cared to look for it.

Hob's smile was what broke him out of the spell of his own self doubt. "It's okay if you don't have an answer, you know. It takes people a loooong time to get it, it took me nearly 600 years, you know? Ah! You know what? I've got an idea–" He reached inside his brown messenger bag, pulling out a colourful piece of paper, handing it over to Dream. A pamphlet for a meeting. "We're having a meeting for the uni's LGBT clubs here at the Inn. I want this to be a safe space for the kids, and to get them to connect with other folks in the community, share their experiences. It's tomorrow, and I'd love it if you could make it. I'm sure they would too."

Dream took the pamphlet in hands, looking at the bright colours and bold fonts, taking in every bit of information Hob was giving him and trying to fill in the gaps of the questions he wouldn't dare ask. After a moment, he looked up at Hob, allowing himself a small smile. "I shall be in attendance, then."

#if i keep writing this now i won't ever go to bed lol #thank you for sending this!!!#aquilathefighter #dreamling #hob x dream #hob x morpheus #the sandman #the sandman fanfic #ask fic #hob gadling #dream of the endless #morpheus #virgo dream writes

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centipedelightning · 1 year

Text

lightning strikes

Underfell!Papyrus x gn!Reader || written platonic; can be read as romantic

cw/tw: underfell typical violence, the vaguest mention of death, negative self-thought || angst and fluff

Uhhh, reverse comfort for Edge who is scared of thunderstorms. This took so long to publish lord. For the record, I am back at school so any writing I do will be kept to the weekends. Trying to get a job at the college archives so that would theoretically take up a decent amount of my time during the week. N E ways,,,, written platonic bc there's not enough of that out there, but just know that Edge is my babygirl.

Words: 1270

It's pouring outside. The kind of pouring that would soak you to the bone in a minute flat. And with heavy rain, comes the loud crash of thunder.

You walk into your living room and see a very tall skeleton on the couch. Edge called you and told asked you to hang out. So here you are... hanging out...

You were getting something out of your room before the ‘hang out’ officially started. As you walked back into the living room you saw him definitely not relaxing. You’d make some kind of stiff-as-a-corpse joke if the sheer tenseness of his posture wasn’t so concerning. Edge is barely even sitting on the couch, poised stiffly at the edge of the cushion clearly trying not to bolt.

“Hey Edge, what’s uh…. What’s up man?”

“NOTHING. THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING UP WITH ME. IN FACT I AM DOWN. THERE IS MUCH DOWN WITH ME”

“…”

“You committing to that?”

“YES…. YES I AM.”

“Alright,” best not to question it, “then do you want to watch a movie or something? I think that new MTT romance j-“

As you were talking there was a bright flash and a loud boom of thunder. You saw Edge flinch, hard. That’s deeply concerning. Hell, judging by the claw marks on the armrest, that's very concerning.

Wait, no your poor couch.

“Ok listen. Edge, my love, what’s wrong? And don’t give me shit.”

“I SAID IT IS NOTHING HUMAN,” clap of thunder, flinch, “AND. AND I- AND I DO NOT NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE.”

“Mhm... Right, then can I sit next to you?” He can be a garbage liar sometimes.

“YES OF COURSE. THIS IS A HANGOUT AND SITTING NEXT TO EACH OTHER IS STEP TWELVE IN MY HANGING OUT MANUAL™.”

You're gonna dig the issue out of him. He knows it too. You walk over and plop down next to him. Once you're close enough you realize that his bones are chattering. Has he realized? You aren't sure.

"So what do you want to watch?" Thunder, lighting, flinch.

"ANYTHING IS FINE! THE TERRIBLE EDGE HAS NO PREFERENCE!" Stars, he's compensating right now.

"Edge. I am begging you to talk to me. You're chattering."

"I AM NOT 'CHATTERING'... OKAY, MAYBE I AM. THIS PROVES NOTHING AND IS OF NO IMPORTANCE"

He makes things so hard sometimes. Time to get creative.

"Edge."

"WHAT IS IT NOW HUMAN, DON'T YOU WANT TO WATCH MTT AND HANG OUT?"

"I'm scared of thunder." Wait that delivery was awful he's not gonna believe it.

"WELL OF COUR-," the claps of thunder are getting more frequent, "COURSE YOU ARE! HUMANS ARE- ARE PUNY! AND FEARFUL! AND WEAK!"

He also makes things so easy sometimes.

"Would you do me a favor and help me out then? Can you tell me what you would want if, hypothetically, you were afraid of storms?"

"IF I? WELL IF I WAS, HYPOTHETICALLY, AFRAID OF THESE GHASTLY STORMS, WHICH I AM NOT, I THINK I WOULD LIKE TO BE HELD. BUT CLEARLY, I DON'T NEED THAT, BECAUSE I AM NOT AFRAID OF STORMS." There were at least three flinches and a stutter or two during that whole shpiel. The storm outside sounds like it getting pretty bad. Time to work fast.

"Wow," wait you're trying to sell having a phobia, put more oomph into it, "that does sound helpful! Can we try it then? Here I'll lay back, just hand me that pillow." With a blend of pained, relieved, and a bit humiliated look, Edge dislodges his claws from your couch (I hope you know how to reupholster) and grabs the pillows. He tosses them over to you with a bit too much power.

"Ow. thanks man." You lay back and get yourself comfortable. Once you are in the primary position to cuddle with Edge and watch the t.v., you gesture for him to lie down with you.

"IF YOU THINK THIS WILL HELP-," thunder, "HELP- HELP YOU." He couldn't be stiffer but does manage to get horizontal. Once he gets situated, you flip down the blanket from the back of the couch onto the two of you. You can feel him still rattling a bit.

"Hey."

"HEY?"

"Can I touch you?"

"YOU ARE TOUCHING ME HUMAN." You feel the slightest smile on your chest.

"Fair enough," what a pain, "can I gently rub your skull? To self-soothe of course."

"TO SELF-SOOTHE YOURSELF, YES MAKES SENSE. I WILL ALLOW YOU TO RUB MY SKULL FOR YOUR OWN COMFORT AND NOT MINE."

Once he gave the okay, you started to lightly stroke the back of his skull with your fingertips. You want to keep it barely there until he stops chattering as badly as he is. Slowly he stills. You both lay in the dim room listening to the storm pass by. As the quiet moments continue, you feel Edge flinching less and less when the thunder booms"

"Hey."

"HEY."

"Do you want to talk about it yet"

"HYPOTHETICALLY, I MIGHT, POTENTIALLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT THIS THEORETICAL 'IT'."

"I say this with love but you are such a pain sometimes."

"NYEH-HEH PERHAPS. BUT... YES, I AM WILLING TO TELL YOU WHY I AM SO WORKED UP AND CHATTERING LIKE A BABYBONES." You hum and let him continue.

"THE UNDERGROUND WAS NOT A NICE PLACE, THIS IS COMMON KNOWLEDGE. WHAT IS LESS DISCUSSED IS THE ENVIRONMENT. WE MONSTERS LIVED UNDERGROUND, IN A LARGE CAVE UNDERNEATH AN EVEN LARGER MOUNTAIN. WE HAD VERY UNIQUE WEATHER BECAUSE OF IT. ONE OF THESE UNIQUE OCCURRENCES WAS CAVE-INS AND SKY FALLS. STARS THE SOUND." Edge coiled a bit as he said it.

"THE SOUND OF CEILING OR WALLS CRACKING WAS SO LOUD. THE SOUNDS OF THESE STORMS ARE SO LOUD. HEARING THE CRACKS MEANT HALF THE UNDERGROUND HAD TO FLEE INTO THE SAFEST PLACES THEY COULD FIND. MY BROTHER AND I WERE LUCKY ENOUGH TO HAVE A FINISHED AND REINFORCED BASEMENT, BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN WE COULDN'T HAVE LOST OUR HOUSE TO A FALLING ROCK." He readjusted himself and wrapped his arms around you, head on your chest to listen to your heartbeat.

"IT- IT WAS TERRIBLE. IT ONLY GOT WORSE AS MORE PEOPLE YOU KNEW, MORE PEOPLE YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO PROTECT-" He's clinging to you so desperately, like a child to their toy.

"Hey Edge, you don't need to keep talking. It's okay."

"THERE WAS NEVER ANY GOOD TO COME FROM THIS LOUDNESS."

"That must have been awful. But can I ask you something?" He nods.

"Did you try? When you were able I mean, did you ever try to help just one person?" He takes a second and nods again.

"Then you did your job. Environmental tragedies can't be helped Edge. They can't be stopped and a lot of the time they barely can be predicted. If you helped even one person the whole time you were underground, you did your job."

"YES BUT THE PEOPLE I DIDN'T HELP-"

"Couldn't be helped. You are not a bad person. I haven't known you for that long, but I do know that you are a good person that wants to do good deeds. I believe, with my heart and soul, that for anyone you might not have helped, you had a reason. It might have been cowardly or for your own self-interest, but I believe you had a genuine reason for not stepping in sometimes." He's quiet. And still. Crap, did you overstep? You probably said something wrong and upset him more-

"THANK YOU." It was a statement barely spoken above a whisper.

#sorry yall i dont want to proof read #i might come back later #Underfell papyrus x reader #•centipede writes•#papyrus x reader #papyrus x you #uf!papyrus x reader #underfell papyrus x you #uf!papyrus x you #underfell papyrus #underfell #undertale x reader #undertale imagines #undertale scenarios #underfell x reader #uf!papyrus

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girlfromthecrypt · 14 days

Note

i really love that your characters aren't like perfect and conventionally attractive if that makes sense? like basil having top surgery scars and just BEING trans and still being someone who's implied to be attractive, or small stuff like flo not being super toned idk it just makes me feel really happy that for once it's an IF whos potential romantic interests aren't "bland actual fucking supermodel", "bland actual fucking supermodel but with red hair" and "bland actual supermodel but 5'10"

sorry for rambling it's just like a game where I feel comfortable, that like in universe I wouldn't be given shit about what I look like y'know

also I liked Basil's joke about the MC (I assume this is only when picking the short option) being the same size as some of the kids. it made it feel like friendly and real

THANK YOU I'm serious this particular thing means so much to me.

I very much intend for my characters to be attractive, but each in their own way, not like the "bland supermodels" you described. Bc that's so real. In most romance fiction (not just IFs), I find that sooo many characters are just boringly beautiful. I have a hard time falling in love with the characters bc of that.

Also, I want each of my ROs to look according to what they do. Their appearance should suit their personalities and needs. Besides, "flaws" totally add to a character's charm imo.

-RO ramble incoming!-

To me at least, the SHC ROs are very attractive, but like in a normal, approachable way. I put a lot of thought into their specific kinds of attractiveness.

Basil is very attractive!! In a fox-like, impish kind of way, with his fairycore vibes and whatnot. I also love that you said "supermodel but 5'10" like 5'10 is short or sth lol. But I see what you mean! Basil, of course, is like 5'8 but I like to think anyone who meets Basil would be too distracted by the entire rest of him to even consider height. Besides, to me (I be gremlin) that's still kinda tall.

I figure being trans doesn't really factor into his attractiveness at all. From your ask, it sounds like trans people get described as ugly in a lot of fiction?? I wouldn't know, but if that's what you were saying, then that's a sorry state of affairs.

Flo is also attractive, in more of a "conventional masculinity"-type of way. But he's not well-dressed because he hates the feel of most fabrics, so he's only ever in his sweater. And of course he's not super defined! He has NO interest in being super handsome (aside from keeping his hair and beard shiny). He wants to be a tank. And he is a tank.

And if you consider how much food he consumes in the fairground-sequence alone (cheesecake, around five deep fried candy bars).... Yeah he loves to eat. Hence, he's got a bit of padding lol. There's no technical reason for the large nose ofc, I just thought that was cute.

Reem is the most "supermodel"-esque out of the ROs, I think. Although that's subjective. She's actually toned, but like... also very noticeably muscular. In that defined kinda way I might have intentionally avoided with Flo! But like, it makes sense that Reem would build abs and stuff for herself. She values her stage presence. She does want her performances and looks and outfits to be memorable, and HERSELF to be memorable. She's just raw, brutal magnetism. (Also I might have gotten inspired by BG3 Karlach when I first came up with Reem.)

Anita is pretty, too, but in like... a "cute" way. A Velma kind of way. With her, like, really thick glasses. Anita's appealing in a wispy, ethereal kind of sense. Or perhaps even slightly girl-next-door-ish, with an added academia vibe. Also, she's slim, not model-slim but "I forgot to eat/I'm stressed and have no appetite"-slim. This is really important to me. Will come up in the story, too. With that also comes her bad posture. She slouches a lot.

So yeah the ROs' attractiveness is rly something I put thought into, and I'm super happy you noticed. Makes my entire day whenever I get an ask like that. Thank you!

Also yeah hehe I was proud of that joke

#if: such happy campers #romanceable characters #ro rambles #kind asks #I went wayyy off the rails here

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our-transmasculine-experience · 5 months

Note

My aunt struggles a lot with like alcohol and mental health and I just idk why but I always got a weird vibe from her. We stay over at her house like 2x a year for a night and I just always never wanted to be in a room with her alone as she just gives me a bad gut feeling.

Since forever she has constantly been urging my parents to make me wear more "girly" clothing. When I had longer hair she would always play with it when talking to me and has always made sure to emphasise that I am a beutifull girl and has said in the past that many transgender people transition as they feel that they are so ugly that their only chance at trying to be pretty is to be another gender when it doesn't work. This last time particularly I was extremely stressed about staying over, idk why.

Anyways, we got there and everything was as normal but then my aunt got a bit drunk as night came and she started being a bit touchy as in hugged me and she kept on crying. We were all sat outside in this like outhouse porch thats detached and maybe 20m away from the house. Anyways, I got up to pet and check in on my dog as he left maybe a min ago and it was dark so I wanted to see if he was fine.

Not even a minute after I walk out of the outhouse my aunt follows me out. She got my attention and the started hugging me and rocking me from side to side. She kept on saying I'm such a pretty girl and that I need to remember that I will always be a pretty girl (I'm not out to my fam but I have short hair and always looked like a boy). Now would also be a good moment to say that she is a medical proffesional and belives that all LGBTQIA folks are just mentally ill. She has said in the past that she has patients who think they are transgender and has reffered them to mental health services each time as she just knows its all in their head.

Anyways, back to the story, she kept on saying how I need to remember that I'm a beutifull girl and need to fix my posture to show off my boobs. She then started fixing my back but one of her hands was on my spine and the other, well near my tits and it made me hella uncomfy so I laughed and stepped away bending down to my dog. She then said to follow her inside but her dog was near so I just assumed it was to her dog and went back to the outhouse with my dog as I just felt really odd.

We then went to sleep but for some reason I just couldn't, my mum went to the toilet and not even a min after she laid back down my aunt wandered in, literally only in her bra and underwear and walked up to the bed that I was laid trying to sleep in. My heart was literally beating so hard and it was so unreasonable bc like thats my aunt. My mum heard her walk in and got up and asked if everything is alright and my aunt just groaned and told her to go to bed.

I couldn't sleep the whole night after as I was so on edge. It just didn't feel like a family member but rather a threat.

I don't know if its just her drunk trying to reassure me or whatever and my parents don't see anything wrong with it. It could also be me overthinking it.

she’s not safe to be around. don’t be around her any more. i’d talk to your parents about this if you feel safe.

i’m so sorry this happened to you, anon.

#transgender #lgbtq #transmasc #ftm #trans guy #trans boy #queer #trans man #trans #lgbt

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myjunkisyuzuruhanyu · 6 months

Note

Alright, I'm curious...

Are there ways in which you think Shoma is a better skater than Yuzu?

Uff...my initial thought was if you wanna get me burned alive by the rabid Fa*yus 😅 but well here I go, but please anyone keep in mind that this is a total subjective answer.

I really had to think longer about it, bc I think this is a really hard question not only because of the reactions it might cause, but mostly because Shoma and Yuzu have very different skating styles and approaches to their ideal skating.

I also stumbled upon the word "better" because I don't think of one as better or worse but more like different. But I still try to look for what I like and think Shoma does the better than Yuzu.

I think Shoma's arm movement is "better" than Yuzu's in terms of sharpness and precision whether the music is soft or fast (for example look at "Come Together" and the way Shoma uses his arms there to express the music) Shoma's arm movements express the music right until his fingertips. In comparison I think Yuzu's arm movements are more loose/freely/flailing.

I think Shoma's upper body movements that has been praised by multiple commentators are something totally else. I think while Yuzu is all in for high kicks and being flexible like his ina bauer, Shoma's upper body movement is more fast paced than Yuzu's and he can use his upper body almost detached from his legs. So I'd say Shoma is king in upper body movement. But I think it's also hardly fair to compare Yuzu and Shoma in this regard because their approach is different. Yuzu's focus laid more on the complexity of combining difficult steps and showing off flexibility so more on his legs and Shoma's focus is more on posture and arm movement. Just adding many ppl forget that upper body movement is as much part of the difficulty for transitions as the difficulty done by the feet.

This probably is a controversial opinion and completely subjective but I think Shoma in general emotes better to an audience than Yuzu. (Not at all saying Yuzu is in any way bad at this, just I personally think Shoma is this tiny bit better at it) And it's not about facial expression. Some skaters have tons of facial expression yet live without a closeup no feeling gets to the audience (I don't mean Yuzu with this btw just in case this wasn't clear) Shoma is a small figure yet he draws the attention towards him. You can't take your eyes off. An audience falls completely into silence by his skating and how he can draw ppl into his performance is extraordinary. Like many ppl said Shoma may be small but he skates big. His presence on the ice is huge. Yuzu has also a huge presence on the ice for sure and he commands the ice like no one else but I think the emoting to an audience differs with what program Yuzu is performing like Let's Go Crazy or Let me entertain you, he's playing with the audience but other programs are more subtle and not as directed at an audience in particular. It's not less fascinating, but for me it feels more like I'm an observer, while Shoma's gaze is always directed at the audience no matter the essence of a program - silent, wild or fun. So I feel more like a companion. I have seen both live couple of times now and I think my feeling during their skating has been very different bc of this. Not really better or worse for Shoma or Yuzu, but different and I think emoting to an audience played a part. Maybe it's also because of their different status as skaters - Yuzu as this huge "superstar" bigger than the sport and Shoma just the "skating star" - that Yuzu feels more distant and Shoma more like a "friend".

And just adding for fun: Shoma does have a better 2A than Yuzu. I am not sure I ever saw Yuzu do a 2A in 10 years...it's either a 3A or a single Axel. 🤔 Shoma's 2A is really light like a feather and especially his 3A 2A sequence makes it look so aery.

I think these were all aspects I would name where I think Shoma is a "better" skater if you even want to speak of better.

I was debating with myself whether I want to share it publicily or just in private but thought why not share? Tbh on Twt I would rather not have answered but Tumblr feels like a safer place...

#shoma uno #figure skating #pls don't come at me😅 these replies are for fun only #replies

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mqfx · 3 days

Note

maybe hua cheng needs to be flirting/otherwise posturing with romantic intent to seem in-character since that's like all he did in canon. mu qing/hua cheng fling perhaps??? kys (sexily) might work

KJAHDSKLJHLKJASDHFKAJDSH THAT'S WHAT IT'S COMING TO ANON....... u have earned a special sneak peek. tell me if this is what u had in mind

this is what happens when author (me) is too used to only writing a certain type of dynamic.

and another one but it's a lil more spoilery and possibly super OOC (working on it day and night!!!!!!) below. again, NOT FINAL:

so for context: hua/lian are having a minor disagreement, which mq doesn't know (but I DO bc i'm author-god rn. xl is worried that hc gives in to everything and has no boundaries [aside from "gege if you hurt yourself i'll be mad"] while hc thinks xl is getting tired of him.) overall an easily solvable and mildly silly problem BUT i'm including it in the first place bc i remember how other ppl have said that they have no conflict. now, in tg/cf that might be true due to narrator (xl) bias + honeymoon phase, but since I HAVE THE REINS i can add a lil bit bc i think even the perfect relationship has a bad day.

anyway, mq gets the vague sense that smth is wrong so here goes

pictured: guy who should take his own advice butts into someone else's business. would it be too much if i make hc say "fuck off, virgin" yes or no guys

#hewwo #asks #anonymous #honest opinions needed is it too OOC?#and YES I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT TEA THEY'RE DRINKING HASHTAG TEAHEADDDDDD #CAN SOMEONE FUCKINGGGG BUY ME YUNNAN PU'ERH PLEASE I AM ON MY HANDS AND KNEEEEES #postcanon

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