#it’s one thing to have your fathers armor on display

[koroart]

A WIP that got outta hand …. Cool imma go cry now

#it’s one thing to have your fathers armor on display #but I think Dimitri would rather have his father there with him #oh? one would say #a king missing his parent? #it’s more likely than you think !!! #*sobs into pillow* #fe3h #wip #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem #lambert egitte blaiddyd #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd

[seresinhangmanjake]

The Harkonnen's Sweet Thing

Feyd-Rautha x Atreides!Reader

Summary: You watched your brother kill the man you love--a man you were once gifted to by the Baron--and now that he is gone, you think Paul will use you as a political pawn in his war. And you're right. But you're shocked to discover who is demanding to have you.

Words: 2650

Notes/Warnings: This is Part 1 of 2. Ignore canon ages in the timeline. I don’t know what they are, but everyone young is in their twenties, cool? Cool. Dune inaccuracies. Jessica and Paul kind of (very much) suck. Feyd’s a soft boy for our reader. Angst but also fluffy-ish stuff. Implied smut. Mention of pregnancy. I think that’s it. TG:M people ignore me. I don’t know what I’m doing here either, but i'm embracing it for now. 

When your brother pierced through armor into pale flesh, you felt it as if he had driven that blade into your body instead of the body of the man you love. You felt the shock of icy steel penetrating warm and delicate tissue, and the suffocation that came from the mutilation of your lung. You felt droplets of blood run down your front as you reached for the blade that was not there. As children, you were taught not to remove it. Not unless sufficient care was nearby to stop the bleeding before too much was lost.

Paul did not respect that knowledge. He yanked his knife out of Feyd’s torso and watched with relief as he collapsed to the ground. His body landed with a thud that matched the heavy beat of your heart. A beat that reminded you your blood was rushing strong, keeping you alive while your lover was draining dry of the strength to keep himself from leaving this world, from leaving you. 

You wailed in the silence of those around you. Screamed at the top of your lungs as tears streamed down your face. You tried to go to him but the Fremen snatched you before you could reach him, forcing you to your knees, one of them slapping a hand over your mouth. This was not the time for hysterical outbursts; it was a time to stare in awe as a new leader accepted his victory and claimed power over the emperor and his daughter. 

“Shut up, girl,” a male voice spit in your ear. He was tired of the struggle you were putting up against the hand squeezing your face. You were ruining his opportunity to witness a beautiful moment in history. A defining moment. A moment you didn’t give two fucks about. 

No one spared you a glance save for the witch whose vibrant eyes were drilling into the side of your skull. A woman your father had instructed you receive as a stepmother following your third birthday. A manipulative woman whose smile in front of the Duke had masked the scowl permanently seared onto her face when looking at you—a decades-long act that the capture and death of your father had freed her from. And she’d wasted not a second displaying her distaste for his daughter. 

Not long ago you'd thought to thank Lady Jessica for not loving you. Her lack of love made her so terribly desperate to rid herself of you that when cornered the night your family was attacked, she’d thrown you right into the arms of the Harkonnens—a fate she believed would destroy you rather than thrust you into a life you would come to cherish.

“A gift for you, nephew,” the baron had said after the fighting ceased and the soldiers, with you in their grasp, had returned to their unfamiliar home.

Feyd-Rautha had not rushed when he descended the staircase and approached you for the first time. His eyes were unblinking as he’d taken in his present; a slow drawl from head to toe that sent shivers down your spine. 

“An Atreides,” Feyd had said in a low voice, deep and thick and eerily lovely.

The baron’s voice did not contain the same appeal. “Yes. Do you like it? A new pet for you to ruin.”

You’d stood frozen as Feyd traced a knuckle down your cheek before grasping your chin and running his thumb over your bottom lip. He’d possessed not a lick of shame when his index finger drew a line from the dip of your throat to your cleavage. There had been no consideration for your feelings when he tucked that same finger between your breasts and the neckline of your nightgown and lightly tugged you forward. 

You had gasped with your stumble, your hands pressing against his chest to catch your fall while he smirked at the blush tinting your cheeks. His tongue then darted out to dampen his lips before he moved his hand to the curve of your waist and squeezed. 

“Perfect,” He’d said, not in a loud declaration of appreciation, but in a tone meant for your ears only. Then he’d grabbed you by the wrist and led you to his chambers.

When the door had slammed behind you after you were jerked inside the room, you were suddenly filled to the brim with panic. You’d heard the rumors. What would he do to you? How would he do it? Would you suffer long? 

A tear had slipped down your cheek that, once noticed, was brushed away with his thumb. 

“Do not worry yourself unnecessarily.”

You’d swallowed, stuttering, “Wh-What do you mean?”

He’d pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, exposing pale skin taught over defined, well-trained muscle. Then he’d stepped into your space, inching you backward until your spine was flush with the wall. He’d fisted the flimsy, nearly see-through fabric of your nightgown in his hand and slowly dragged it up your body until fingers could sneak under the hem to graze your inner thigh.

You’d sucked in a sharp breath at the pleasurable waves of heat that rippled from his touch.

“Atreides or not, you’re much too precious to ruin the way my uncle suggests,” he had said, his lips a hair's-width away from yours. “I've been looking for you for so long. You're mine now, do you understand?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

He hadn’t loved your hesitation—you could see it in his eyes and in the downturn of his lips—but he was satisfied when you’d truthfully said:

“No.” Because you weren’t. Not after he had brushed that tear off of your cheek.

His next question had caused your heart to skip a beat from the concoction of emotions it shot through you. Fear of the unknown mixed with unexpected excitement.

“Have you done this before?” 

You’d shaken your head and in response he lightly nodded, his nose nudging yours. 

“You want to?” he’d asked, hiking your leg up to his hip, and you found yourself nodding as well. “I won’t make it hurt.”

You’d replied with a soft “Ok” before accepting his kiss with as much fervor as he was giving it, thankful that what you’d imagined was awaiting you upon your arrival in foreign territory was far from what you were receiving. 

Days later, when you had mentioned that he did not live up to the rumors of his cruelty extending to all areas of his life, he’d hummed. Said, “I make many bleed, and enjoy it. I feed off of their pain. Those who have been in my bed are not spared this, and it will not be uncommon for you to see me stained with the death of others, including my former pets.” 

He’d paused then, allowing you a moment to question your future as one of those pets, if that's what he considered you.

“But I have been searching for something that I’ve wanted for a very long time,” he’d said. “Something that hasn't existed within these walls. Something I will never want to harm. Something…soft…and sweet,” he had admitted to your surprise.

He’d then told you that you were that sweet thing. That he’d known it from the moment he saw you. That he was choosing you. 

But it was a choice that had its repercussions. 

All things must have balance, and you had tipped the scales. From his gentleness toward you, a darker, more gruesome beast emerged when facing off with others. A brutal warrior who never surrendered and never lost. A sadistic man who showed no mercy to the opponents whose blood you would later wash from his body. He had annihilated his previous reputation as just the famed killer of Geidi Prime and evolved into something more, all because of you.

That was why you thought he would win against Paul. Your brother was skilled, but the universe had long known the name Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen for his prowess in combat and his ruthlessness which had only grown with time. 

So why was it not your brother on the floor with his love sobbing and struggling to reach him?

In the thirteen days since your lover’s death, it is that question that has robbed you of all peace. 

Despite your brother having escorted you back to Caladan for the time being, you find no sense of home or happiness in your birthplace. You walk the beaches and fields that, as a child, you dreaded one day leaving, but they are not the same. Nearly a year has gone by since you were last here, however, so much of what you once loved about this planet is overshadowed by the shattered heart caused by Feyd's death. 

When you were young, your father would often express his wishes for your future. He would paint a beautiful image of you bringing your children to play in the gardens of your childhood home, carefree and unburdened. It was a source of comfort that he used to mask the reminder of your duty as an Atreides: that you would not be marrying and having children out of love, you would marry in the name of peace and produce heirs in the name of security. And it seems in the end, he was right.

With Feyd unable to claim you, Paul will be the one to secure new arrangements for your future, which just so happens to greatly fare in his favor. After all, he just declared war, and you are the ripened political pawn at his disposal.

“Are you well?”

You turn as sharply as you can at the intrusive voice, but the uncomfortable skirts of your dress are thick and stiff, restricting your movements. Feyd never made you wear anything like this and you forgot what it's like to be weighed down by layers of fabric. You fucking hate it.

Paul stands a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back and a light smile on his face. Clearing his throat, he joins you on the balcony attached to your old room. 

“I know we haven’t spoken much about what’s to come. I’m sure you’ve been curious,” he says. 

You shrug, shake your head, and return your gaze to the horizon where ocean meets sky. 

“We have matters to discuss.”

Matters such as where he will be sending you off to be married, you imagine. He must act quickly if he intends to establish and gain control over house alliances, since they weren't overly enthusiastic about accepting him as their leader.

“Let's sit down,” he tells you. He grasps your hand before you can object and guides you to one of the balcony benches. Once you’re settled, he takes a seat beside you and says, “I am going to ask you something. And I want honesty.”

You sigh. “What?”

“When you were with the Harkonnens for those many months, were you treated like a slave as I had feared, or were you something far from it?”

Your eyes narrow. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Because it’s important,” Paul states, staring you directly in the eye. “I’ve been thinking about the way you wept over him after we fought, and how he denied every offer I made in exchange for your release…” With his pause, he shakes his head. “I thought maybe he had messed with your mind, confused you, and that was why you were so hysterical over his loss…but that’s not right, is it.”

“Paul–”

“Does he love you?”

It takes conscious effort to keep your body from shifting uncomfortably. “What is it to you?”

“He survived his wounds,” Paul says. 

The casualness with which he shares that news heavily contrasts everything that runs through you. Your heart stops. Your lips part, unsuccessful in drawing in oxygen. Your eyes no longer see anything but Feyd’s face as it flashes in front of you. The way he looked when he last smiled at you. The way he looked the last time he came inside of you. The look of him when he died—or almost died. Death had been there, looming over him. 

You’re trying to will away the tears. Paul is watching you too closely. “Wh–What?” you say.

“He’s alive, and he is demanding you be returned to him,” he informs you. “So, tell me: is he truly threatening me so aggressively over one of his ‘pets’? Or is he threatening me to get back the woman he loves?” 

The woman he loves. You never imagined yourself in a situation where your brother would ask if a member of a centuries-long rival house loves you. But then again, you never imagined a member of a centuries-long rival house loving you to begin with.

You remember the night he told you. It was late and your bodies were bare after having bathed together. You were searching for your nightgown when he said “Come to bed, my love.” 

You sighed, defeated. He’d called you that before, but whether it was real or not was such a mystery and it hurt your heart a little bit more each time. “You shouldn’t call me your love unless you mean it,” you finally told him. 

You heard his footsteps when he stood from the bed. He walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back against his chest. “Why would I call you that if I do not mean it?” he asked. Then he hummed and said “You know me better than that, my love” before dipping his head lower and nipping the shell of your ear with his teeth. 

So yes, he loved you—loves you. But there’s something in Paul’s voice as he asks you that question that gives you pause. It’s too gentle as if luring you into a false sense of security. The Harkonnens are not known for their capacity to love, and Feyd loving you could be seen as a weakness; his one vulnerable spot.

As monotone as you can manage, you reply, “If you’re being threatened you should just send me back and be done with it. I know you have more important things to worry about.”

Paul’s lips thin in disappointment. “I can’t send you back,” he says. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

He sighs. “Because I believe he loves you. And I need to see how far a Harkonnen is willing to bend for an Atreides,” he says. “If he wants you back, he will have to be open to negotiations.”

You stand sharply, take a few steps from him, and blow out a heavy breath through your nose. You were told your brother changed after drinking that magic water and it shows. Holding you hostage for political gain is not the same as marrying you off. 

“I would like to be done with this conversation,” you say with a huff.

“I understand,” he replies, so you turn to enter your bedroom. But before you’re fully through the door, he says, “There’s more, though.”

You freeze. 

“I had a dream,” he says, his voice coming closer. “There was a boy, no more than five years old. He had your features and your hair but his skin was of the same paleness as the Harkonnens.”  

Sucking in a breath, you brace yourself with a hand gripping the door’s frame. 

“You’re pregnant, sister,” he tells you, leaning against the opposite side of the doorway. “But I'm very glad to know that the heir of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is a product of love rather than an unfortunate incident,” he says. “Additional incentive, should it be necessary.”    

In your shock, you can’t look at him. He doesn’t need you to. You can see his smirk in your peripherals, then he pushes off the frame and heads toward the main door of your room. 

“Try to get some rest, sister,” he calls over his shoulder. “You really shouldn't be on your feet too long.”

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #dune part 2 #austin butler #feyd x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune #dune movie

[tarjapearce]

Lips anon! Dark King Miguel and the gentle princess. The original one except Miguel is the king you dread to marry. Even more so when you meet him. He's a hulking man adorned with obsidian armor laced with gold. Cold piercing red eyes. If you weren't terrified, you would have seen how handsome he was, and that his gaze was filled with intrigue rather than hatred.

He takes your hand in armored claws, and kisses it. Now you blush.

You were to spend a good chunk of time in the palace with him until the day of the wedding. At first it's a nightmare because you are with someone who's slaughtered thousands of men, but he's gentle with you. Not exactly kind. But gentle.

Oh oh, imagine she took a little diary with her. She records her time in his lands, and he finds it while snooping in her room (checking for any weapons and such). He reads it and finds quite a bit about her. He rolls his eyes at the passage of her describing her dream man, but he is very intrigued about her wanting a bunch of children. He can give that to her, he wants many heirs too 🤭

Im such a sucker for these sort of tropes :'D ❤️❤️❤️ (Had to write this twice cause Tumblr erased the draft midway 😭😭)

You fretted in your chambers.

Despite the kingdom's overall economy and exterior political relations were thriving, the feeling of wariness set heavyly on your chest. The Queen and King had forbidden your stay at the most recent council's meeting, and when you demanded an explanation, you were met with nothing but silence and pained looks.

"Your Majesty! Come back here! You can't go inside!"

"They are hiding something from me, Lucille. I know it!"

"But you just can't interrupt!" Your maid and friend had been trying to prevent to get in the throne room. She caught your arm and looked solemn for a moment.

"You... You too?"

She shook her head and sighed, pulling you to a more private spot.

"You must be very quiet, ok?" Lucille guided you through a secret little passageway you didn't know the castle had. Hidden in plain sight that took you exactly where you wanted, a small hole on the wall enough for you too take a glimpse of the room.

Sparse, war table on a side, some guards you couldn't recognize stood next to a chair, partially revealing who sat in it. You could only get a small reveal of his arms. Dark skinned, strong arms clad in obsidian and golden that ended in a claw like gauntlet.

"Your Majesty" Your dad spoke, a slight tremor in his voice, "I think we are rushing into conclusions, ser. You'll see our men-"

"I don't want your men, neither your women. My army is more than enough and if I wished, your kingdom would be wiped out at my command."

You father stressed kn his chair as your mother just watched with keen eyes the display of power.

"We might not be a large kingdom, your majesty-"

"You're right, ser. You're like a tiny and annoying stone that got in my greaves, but I have had enough bloodshed for now"

"T-Then what is it you want, your majesty?"

You frowned at the armored man's attitude as dread crept up your bones. His gauntlet curled on his head, pondering as he slicked his soft, wavy and dark locks back.

"Surprise me, your majesty" He sneered the two last words and you swallowed.

"I will give you the most precious thing I possess, your highness." Your mother spoke confidently as her eyes were casted at the man.

"Being?"

"My daughter. The princess."

Lucille gasped and you quickly covered her mouth. His ears perked at the sound and tensed, but ignored it since he just chuckled.

"I came here in order for you to understand why I need the West passage of your borders open, not to get married." He stood and it was yout time to gasp at the size of him. He looked gigantic, your father had to crane his head up to meet his eyes.

"Think about it, your highness." Your mother pressed as she also stood.

"We can't open the passage due to political differences between our Kingdom and Erunia. It's closing wasn't to meddle in your affairs, but more like a preventive solution in our safety, in case an invasion happened. The least of things we would want is another war against a powerful kingdom we know we have no chance against. "

The obsidian clad man seemed to pay attention to your mother's words

"Sure, our Kingdom is thriving again, and economy and politics seem promising, but you must also understand we have nothing much to offer you when we are still recovering from a war. We still mourn, and we are getting on our feet again."

Your throat tightened upon her mentioning mourn. Your brother, the prince had died in battle.

"And for me to offer you, this kingdom's most precious jewel... I'll leave it to your interpretation."

The man seemed to relax slightly. Political things weren't your strength but, you didn't have to be a genius to know that tension had been rising within the neighbor kingdoms. Yours was a small one that served as a bridge among the others. Without you, the rest would collapse bit by bit.

"I offer you protection, in exchange of your daughter."

Tears welled up in your eyes. They were using you like an object. The deal was sealed, and so was your fate.

------

You had refused to see your parents after that, your mother had explained that it was for the kingdom's best interest.

"But what about me? I know that is selfish to think this way but, this is not what I want."

"It's not about what you want, more like what must be done. Your duty as a princess is to see for the people's interest, my dear. Our wishes matter little when the men think it's funny to play war."

"But mother, how could I possibly marry someone like that? Arachne kingdom is ruthless! And so is it's ruler!"

"We had no choice, my dear. Your brother... Im sure your brother would have chosen to try and wage a war against him to keep our autonomy... There is enough bloodshed as it is for now." She cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead.

"Besides, he is not that bad. He was... civil and wise enough to hear us. And now, thanks to you we have his protection and a new chance of being the kingdom we used to be."

-----------

You were set to depart to Arachne's kingdom within two weeks, and you made sure to enjoy the last bits of your freedom in your home. The wedding was set within 3 months. Or so the dark scroll the mysterious man had sent, said.

And when that day arrived, your carriage departed between sobs, anguish and heartfelt goodbyes. You didn't like the feeling of being seen as a martyr, but it gave your people hope.

----

If you had to describe Arachne's beauty you'd settle for twisted. A contradiction of many types of beauty melded in a single space. The outskirts were full of thorns so thick you thought your carriage would be crushed before even reaching the castle, but the more your caravan approached, the sceneries changed into something less harrowing to a more utopic sort of settling.

Tall towers stood proud in the different cities, but one thing you couldn't help but notice were the elite guards. Mostly clad in a light armor, red and blue, a spider-skull like emblem on their chest. You weren't allowed to bring Lucille with you, a strange petition from this... Miguel King.

Miguel O'Hara. Ruler of Arachne. Commander of an elite force with abilities that surpassed the common guard forces. Many said it was his secret to get him where he was. Despite the rumors about the kingdom being desolated and hunger stricken, witnessing the opposite with your own eyes made your heart a little hopeful.

After all he had sent a small crew of four to guard you during the trip. A blonde girl with a left side of her head shaven, a tall dark young man with braids on each side of his head slicked back with a look that pierced your soul, Another black man with many perforations in his face, with the strangest hairdo you had seen in someone, and their commander. A tall, black slender woman with a red and obsidian armor. None of you talked during the trip. But the pierced face young man and the blonde girl offered you small, almost sympathetic smiles your way.

----

Your arrival at the castle was announced. Your four escorts guided you to the main hall and kneeled before the man you had only caught a minimal glimpse of. Red eyes regarded your form, clad in a emerald green with golden trims dress.

You could notice his eyes widening just slightly as you entering the room. And then he stood. Your breath was caught in your throat and just as your father, you had to crane your head up to meet his eyes. Captivating yet full of unspeakable things. But you were certain, hatred wasn't one of them, rather wonder. He stared at you with mild curiosity.

You revered before him.

"Princess (Name) of Theleria, at your service, my lord." Sweet and soft spoken. A stark contrast of his overall aura. He noticed the small tremor in your hands and chuckled.

"Welcome, Princesa." Despite his imposing and intimidating looks, his royal etiquette shone through.

"Make yourself at home" Or so it did it's best. He returned to his work. He wasn't much for words as you were escorted to your own chambers. You certainly were swooned by the place grandeur and the elite force you had heard so much.

"Your Majesty sends his apologies, he won't be able to meet you during dinner. Would you like to eat on your chambers, or in the dining hall?" The man wore another red and blue armor, you had noticed that only commanders wore a certain type of armor.

"In my room, ser. Thanks."

He nodded with a smile and left. Your room was enormous, easily mistaken for a whole wing. You had dinner in your room.

--------

"Where is she?"

"In her room. She preferred to eat inside."

"Hm." Miguel hummed as he spreaded some map before him. Peter looking at him.

"Want me to arrange a tea meeting with her?"

Miguel's nose scrunched and he shook his head.

"Make it a lunch. I don't like tea."

"I know, coffee guy. You think her parents will keep their word?"

"They better, if not, we'll wipe them."

"Wouldn't that be harrowing for your future bride?"

Miguel arched an eyebrow at him

"Merely political affairs."

"She's pretty"

"Hm and gentle. You know what happens to gentle people."

"They get an arranged marriage with a ruthless belicist of a king." Peter couldn't help but giggle at his mortified expression.

"One more-"

"And I'm out. I know, I know pal. Get some rest. Your eyebags are packing for vacation already" Peter smiled at his annoyed sigh, then left him be.

-----

The lunch never came, as you were stood up, again. You had expected much, after all it was an arranged marriage, of course the desire of knowing eachother just for pretense was only in your imagination. However you had noticed that his gaze lingered on you for more than he actually let on.

You had been sorted through the city, to meet it's people, and so far mostly looked happy? Children ran around a fountain, merchants exposed and sold their goods, art supplies and a small leathery notebook, caught your attention. The extense array of colors had you grinning and marveling at things you had never seen before. Charcoals, complete drawing kits, turpentine, canvas made out of the richest materials.

Arachne's people were kind, welcoming and it just made you wonder how such kind of people had a blood thirsty man for a king? Not that he intentionally waged wars just for fun and giggles. Peter watched you with a lazy smile, occasionally recommending things to try. He and the blonde girl, whose name happened to be Gwen, we're kind enough to answer each of your questions. You didn't dare to ask about Miguel. He seemed too busy to be disturbed and by the way his face was always set in a permanent frown, made you wonder how would things would be in your wedding day.

He was aloof, too buried in his own world of War and battles. You couldn't help but nod with an absentminded expression at Peter saying he won't be for dinner either.

"Of course." That's all you uttered before you returned to the castle and retreated to your room. Your chest constricting tightly.

-----------

"You know, getting any sort of contact with her wouldn't hurt you." Peter spoke as he was polishing his gauntlets.

Miguel remained silent, eyes too focused on the scroll before him.

"How was the trip?"

"She was like a kid in a candy store when we stopped in an art shop."

"Something she liked?" Peter smiled and scrubbed the wax away from the gauntlet

"Paintings and art supplies. She loved the cherry pie and couldn't stop marveling at how dreamlike the city looked"

"Hm. Her kingdom is... small. Nothing much to look around. Anyways, get her what she liked. "

"Beg your pardon?" Peter blinked at him

"Told you to get her what she liked."

"Of course. "

-----

The following days you were either holed up in your bedroom, or in the gardens making small talk with the servants. They seemed good and easygoing people, and it kept you from giving into the loneliness feeling that seemed to loom over your head with each passing day.

Sometimes you'd caught glimpses of him, a small group of elite soldiers tailing behind him in scary synchronization. Your eyes would meet for seconds, but he'd just look away and continue his work.

At this point you knew what the apologetic look on Peter or Gwen meant. He wasn't showing up.

"I'm sorry."

"Have I done something to... upset him this way? To the point of him maybe finding my company repulsive? "

Peter seized you with a frown.

"I know he is a busy man, wars don't wage on their own, I know much. But..." You shook your head and sighed, "Nevermind that. I'm just being pretentious. Bid you a good evening, ser Peter."

You bowed to him and left to your room. You had refused kindly your dinner.

---------

The next day a couple of guards entered your room as you were writing a letter for your parents. They saluted Peter and left.

"Your Majesty." He bowed and guided your to the medium sized wooden box.

"A gift from the king" Your eyes widened in surprise, your cheeks growing a bit warmer.

"Thank you, ser Peter." You smiled and rummaged through its contents, small squeal upon looking at the leathery notebook you had seen before. Peter left and you wasted no time into enjoying your gift.

Papers, watercolors, oil paints, colored waxes, painting brushes, paint remover, it felt like a dream. Your chest felt giddy at the idea that showed up in your mind.

-----

You gave Peter a small box with something you had done.

"Ser Peter?"

"Yes, your majesty?"

"Could you give this to the King?" You handed him a small velvet pouch. A small canvas in it.

"Do you think he would like it?"

"I'm sure he will, your majesty" Peter smiled.

------------

Miguel took the pouch suspiciously, but his eyes widened at the small painting of himself with a small piece of scroll. A fancy and curvy scribblings on it

Thank you for your kindness, my lord.

Your penmanship impeccable, years of princess etiquette and training reflected on it. his lips curved a bit. You had gotten a good angle of him.

---------

He snuck in your room as you had gone to the city with Peter and Gwen again. This time, the man with the pierced face came along.

He didn't expect it to be so you. Paintings you did, dried on the window, drawings of things that caught your interest the most; cherries, birds, nature, and kids. Not that he didn't trust you, he just wanted to see with his own eyes what you had done so far with his gift.

He was glad to find you hadn't wasted it at all. The leathery book however made him to pick it up. It was your own diary. His hands carefully flipped the pages, reading into his contents.

A drawing of him with the caption "king of Arachne and quite aloof." the latter in small letters. He sighed and flipped the pages.

The bakery man is such a gentleman! And his pies so scrumptious.

He chuckled at the little pie drawing you did. He found more descriptions in what seemed to be this type of ideal man for you. He rolled his eyes. But the last lines of the pages caught his interest the most.

After losing my brother, it has come to my thinking. I would love a big family on my own.

You wanted kids. Heirs.

The steps outside alerted him as he tossed the diary back on your bed, and soon you'd enter through the door. The way your eyes looked at him with surprise made his heart to flutter softly. He had met rivals in the battlefield, all giving him a horrifying look, begged him to not come closer. But never he had someone to look at him like you were.

His eyes softened as he walked over you. Lips pressed together, you bowed.

"My lord."

He bowed too, adding more wide at your surprise.

"Enjoying your gift?".

"Very much. Thank you." His thank you gift came into mind.

"Did you... receive mines?"

"Of course."

"Did you like?"

Sweet face looked at him, expectantly. His pulse quickened.

"Si." He mumbled and you looked at him confused for a second.

"I'll take it as a yes?" You smiled.

So so sweet.

He relaxed.

"I'll see you in the dining hall."

"Oh?"

To your surprise he looked at you as he took your hand and kissed the back of your soft palm.

"Don't be late". He left.

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨ #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #royal au #arranged marriage #💋 anon #loved this so much ♡ #asks and replies

[allfearstofallto]

PLS CAN YOU FEED US MORE hero of the nation knight!childe ON MY KNEES I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH AND I SEARCHED EVERYWHERE FOR A FIC LIKE THIS

This took FOREVER to write, but here you go!!

Blessings Be to The Hero of the Nation

Historical AU

Yandere Hero of the Nation! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: yandere themes, stalking, minor character death, blood, threatening, forced marriage/engagement

He kept one of your hair ribbons wrapped around the hilt of his sword. It billowed in the wind constantly and would draw watchful eyes to it. That pastel pink fabric didn't match a single thing on his brutish, usually bloody exterior, but he still kept it regardless. You tragically didn't give it to him in a blatant display of affection and well wishes for him on his journey, instead, he found the little ribbon after it'd blown off your head and up to the wind. A little pout formed on your lips realizing you'd lost it, but you decided against retrieving it. He didn't though. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket, taking it home to clean off the dirt and grime.

That same ribbon was clenched in his hands when he arrived at the gate of your manor, along with a few other gifts that he would give to you. He'd just slayed the dragon, the wretched menace that was terrorizing the nation, now and only now did he feel worthy to ask for your hand. Cleaning off all the blood and gore that was on his armor, polishing it into light metal that could blind anyone who looked directly at it, he was certain that this would charm you off of your feet.

When he was invited into your home by your parents who were surprised to see the hero himself at their door, he didn't care about the tea or the cakes. The praise meant nothing coming from them. He skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point. He wanted your hand in marriage and he wanted the wedding to be soon.

A skittish expression crossed your father's face as he gritted his teeth, “We've decided to leave that decision up to her.” Childe smirked, that was even better. He'd never met a woman who wouldn't fall for his charms.

You were called down from your room, eyelids heavy and half open, still in your thin sleeping gown with a robe over it. You were rubbing the tiredness from your eyes as you walked down the stairs, your other delicate hand gripping the banister. And when you saw him, you bowed. A deep traditional bow, given to those of a respectable higher status.

He kneeled down on one knee before you. The male kneeled for only one person, the queen herself. His sword pulled from its sheath, he laid it flat against his palms, offering it up to you. That knocked the sleepiness from his body and suddenly your eyes were wide open. Genuine shock was making your body stiff as a board and you looked back and forth to your parents who didn't say a word.

“Your visage has danced around my heart non stop since the first time I laid eyes on you. I wish to use this sword only to fight for you. Won't you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Words spoken in honor, with him meaning every bit of it. You were meant to take the sword from his hands, tapping it gently upon each of his shoulders, but you didn't. You just stood there, lips trembling, but not saying anything.

A marriage proposal via a letter was easy to ignore or reject, you didn't have to see their reaction. But never had you had someone be so bold as to propose to you in person. And not only that, the very hero that saved the Kingdom. Rumors told you he'd be marrying the first princess, she obsessed over him before he became the hero and those feelings seemed to only grow stronger after he waltzed into the city with the bloody head of the beast. Yet here he was at your feet, patiently anticipating your answer which he was positive was going to be a yes.

“I-'' you began, trying to think of the easiest way to let him down gently, “I fear that I'm not ready for marriage yet.” You said hurriedly. That wasn’t entirely a lie. You spent countless hours looking at the list of marriage candidates and scoping them out at balls and parties, but quickly realizing that none of them suited your tastes in that way. The entire idea of being wed barely satisfied you. You wanted to push it off for as long as possible.

“I'm willing to wait for you until the world crumbles. I'd even accept being your fiance until the day we die, as long as I can say you're mine,” he was persistent, you'd give him that.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously. Time felt as if it had stopped and this moment would never end. No matter what you did, he was still going to be there, “I thought you were to be wed to her highness, the princess?” You questioned him.

A scoff fell from his cherry pink lips, eyes looking you up and down, drinking in every inch of your body in that thin nightgown, “She does not interest me. Not the way you do.”

“There is really nothing interesting about me,”

“Won't you let me be the judge of that?”

Your shoulders slumped as you looked to your parents. They seemed as surprised by his persistence as you did, but weren't going to step in to help you, they always affirmed that it was your decision, they wanted you to be independent.

“Forgive me, hero, but I can not accept your offer,”

For just a split second you saw that princely expression slip. His eyes grew dark, lips in a deep frown, a rage you'd never seen before. But he was back to his usual expression in less than a second, that charming smile forming on his lips again as he stood from his knees and sheathed his sword a little too slowly.

“You wound me, my lady,” he'd mutter softly, hands still conveniently tight around the hilt of this sword, “Won't you please accept my gifts? And if you are to begin considering marriage, I hope that my proposal will be remembered fondly.”

Childe showed himself out, a little too quickly, but you didn't dare tell him to slow down. It was only once he was out those large double doors, did the air in your home feel breathable, you finally felt safe again. You watched his carriage leave from a window, watching as his eyes went dull again, losing all shimmers and feeling like a hollow mimicry of what humans were supposed to look like.

You were quite embarrassed to say you fell in love after that. Not with Childe, of course. You mentally tried to push the man from your mind after the way he startled both you and your family. Instead, your feelings developed for a commoner boy. You found yourself eyeing him when he'd deliver produce to your home, his face being one of pure beauty despite his messy exterior. As months went by, you'd catch yourself stealing bashful glances at him, locking eyes only for both of you to look away shyly. When the engagement was announced, Childe was one of the first to hear about it.

You twirled around the house in your wedding dress. Something plain and basic, but it was what your family could afford, and quite honestly, you loved it. You didn't want to take it off. Your fear of getting it dirty lessened as the days went by, until the wedding was only a week away.

“A guest for you, my lady,” one of your maids had said. Typically, when the employees of the house saw you dressed in your white gown, they'd smile at you, overjoyed as well. But she didn't. She looked worried, even a bit tense as she made the announcement to you.

“I hadn't arranged to meet anyone today,” you said a bit quietly, going to you closer to pick out something to change into, “Please tell them to wait in the day room.”

She stood stiffly for a second, then opened her trembling mouth to speak again, “I tried to, my lady. But he insisted on seeing you right now. He's just outside the door,”

A part of you wanted to ask who it was, who would be so disrespectful as to barge right up to a lady's room without her permission. But you already knew. There was a sense of unease sinking into your stomach. Unease and recognition. All the gifts and letters he'd sent weren't enough, were they? The man you were ignoring just had to come see you in person.

“Let him in,” you told the maid. She seemed confused at the ease at which you allowed such a thing, but still opened the door, revealing Childe who stood still in the hallway. He stepped past her, eyes only trained on you, “You're dismissed,” you said quietly, with a reassuring smile to the maid. Hesitance danced across her face, looking back and forth between you Childe, but she still did as told, bowing before leaving.

“You look lovely,” he said breathlessly, taking in the sight of you in that pure white dress.

���Thank you,” was all you could think to say back. Now that he was here before you, your mind was growing blank, all the things you wanted to say suddenly getting lost in fear. You tried not to notice the tension in the room, the way he was eyeing you like a predator about to pounce on a rabbit, but even your tough exterior was easy to see through.

“My heart aches for you, my lady,” he speaks softly while taking slow steps towards you. The terror of this situation made you move backwards, until your feet had made you press your back against the wall, “I fear that my haste might've made me do something…irrational.”

His dominant hand seems focused on the sword at his hip, making you look at it. It was only when you saw the red speckles all over his hand, hilt of the sword, and the oddly familiar pink ribbon he kept tied around it, did that coppery smell fill your nostrils.

With a trembling voice and a fake smile, you tried to assure him, “Any mistake is fixable, Sir Childe.”

“Not this one,” his hand continued to hold the hilt of his sword, squeezing it a few times as of testing the weight of his blade, “Do you know the best part of being the hero? The dragon slayer?” He asked, waiting for your response which was just a slow, forced shake of your head, prompting him to continue, “It's not the riches or the praise. It's not even the women.” As he speaks, one of his hands slides down from your cheek, to your neck, to the bodice of your dress. Tearful eyes look down to see him smearing that red liquid, that blood onto you white dress, staining it.

“I don't understand,” you mumbled, but your words fall on deaf ears.

“The best part of being the hero, is the freedom to do what I want. With no prosecution. Who in their right mind would stand up to the man who saved our failing nation? The answer is no one. Not the king, nor his workers, and especially not your weak little fiance,”

The sight and smell of blood, Childe's deep, hollow blue eyes, the way your heart felt as if it wanted to lurch out of your mouth. All things you tried to focus on as his words pounded their way into your skull, understanding washing over you like a wave that was trying to drown you where you stood.

“Wh-what did you do?” Your voice, so high pitched and breaking as the weight of the words forced through your body.

His hand, cold, soft, wet with blood rubbed your cheek, while his face never faltered, those dead eyes never changing, he had no remorse. It made you sick to your stomach, images of your fiance flashing through your head as you tried to imagine what he looked like, the hopeful ones saying that he was at least still alive.

“I'm going to ask again, nicely this time,” he began while pulling a ring from his pocket. Much more intricate than the one your fiance had given you, seeing as he had the hero's budget. But that didn't make you feel any less light headed when it was slipped onto your ring finger, freezing cold against your warm skin, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”

#mai<3 answers #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #genshin childe x reader #childe x reader #historical au

[criminalamnesia]

Let’s Stay Here

warnings: fluff, not proofread, targaryen!reader, she/her pronouns used, reader is 18+

summary: having been born the second Targaryen daughter, you were used to being overlooked. however, there was one person who always had his eyes on you.

author’s note: this is purely self indulgent. I am obsessed with Harwin. also fuck house of the dragon I’ve got beef with that show now

When Rhaenyra had been named heir to the iron throne, you had been happy for her. Of course you had– you two were sisters, and although born a few years apart, you were close friends.

But with Rhaenyra’s naming, chaos had followed. Whispers in the halls of the Red Keep; sour looks from disapproving lords; passive aggressive comments from the queen.

Some days you felt as though you would explode if you remained in the castle any longer.

So, logically, you began to sneak out.

It was harmless fun at first; just seeing how long you could go without being noticed. The City Watch was relentless with their nightly patrols, and so it became somewhat of a game to evade them.

Over time, you became more bold. You would wear less to disguise yourself. You would stand closer to watchmen. A few times you even swiped trinkets and food from vendors in the street.

As all things do, however, it eventually became boring. What used to be exhilarating became mundane, and you once again ached for excitement. That excitement came in the form of one Ser Harwin Strong.

You knew who he was; his father was hand of the king, after all. And Harwin was certainly memorable by himself. You and Rhaenyra had whispered about him more than a few times before, but she had never been taken with him– not like you had.

So, when you finally spotted him one night in Flea Bottom, patrolling the streets in his armor, you couldn’t resist the urge to test your luck.

Grinning to yourself, you pulled off the torn cap barely hiding you hair and shoved it into the pocket of your trousers. With silver hair on full display, you started your trek towards Harwin.

He had his back turned to you as he walked down an empty alleyway. You cautiously approached, deciding to just walk past him to see if he would notice.

Your shoulder brushed his armor-clad one as you passed him, and instantly the knight reacted. His hand that had been resting upon the pommel of his sword gripped it, beginning to unsheathe the blade.

You just kept walking, until his startled “Princess?” stopped you.

You turned with a smile, curtsying to the knight. You saw as he tried– and failed– to mask a smile.

“Ser Harwin. Lovely night, is it not?” You spoke as if you were out for a stroll in the gardens at the keep. He shook his head, sheathing his sword and dropping his hand to the side.

“Forgive me, princess, but you shouldn’t be out here. Especially not alone.”

You hummed in agreement, nodding your head. “Would you care to accompany me, then? I’ve grown quite bored by myself. I’m sure you would provide great company.”

“Princess, I cannot– I must take you back your quarters.”

“You mustn’t. I am in need of some fresh air and excitement. My quarters have become quite stuffy as of late.”

He looked at you, and you could tell he was torn between his mischievous spirit and his duty. Deciding to make the choice for him, you took a step back.

“Well, Ser Harwin, I understand you must do your duty and return me to safety. However, I fear that you must catch me first. I hope that armor is lighter than it looks,” you teased before turning and running out of the alley. You could hear him curse and then the clanging of armor as he ran after you.

“Stop!” He called out, causing a few heads to turn as he followed you into a crowded street.

You laughed with glee as you slipped between people, turning your head every so often to catch a glimpse of Harwin’s gold cloak far behind.

As you rounded a corner, you were met with a dead end. You turned to leave, only to be met with the armor of a city watchman once again.

Looking up, you grinned as Harwin scowled.

“Hello again, Ser. It seems you’ve caught me.”

“It seems I have,” he grumbled, reaching for your arm. You willingly gave it to him, watching as his hand grasped your bicep. His grip wasn’t tight– but it certainly wasn’t lax, either.

He began to steer you back towards the castle, and you sighed. You easily could’ve evaded him longer than you had– you’d been doing it for years. However, maybe a part of you had wanted him to catch you.

Harwin had always been kind to you and Rhaenyra. He wasn’t like the other lords at court– he wasn’t fawning over your sister and vying for her hand. He was watching from afar– occasionally up close– and his focus wasn’t on her. It was on you.

“Forgive me if I speak out of turn, Princess,” he begins, and you nod your head absentmindedly. “But I cannot believe that the red keep could be so bad that you have to sneak out every night.”

You stopped, causing Harwin to tug slightly on your arm as he took another step. At your halt, he turned and looked at you with a grin.

“You can’t think you’ve gotten through the streets so safely all these years without help, Princess. I am better at my job than you think.”

“Why haven’t you stopped me before?” You questioned, resuming your walk.

“I have… noticed certain things during my time here. Certain things pertaining to you.”

“You’ve been watching me, then?” You replied, to which he chuckled.

“Everyone watches, Princess. Some more closely than others.”

“So it seems,” you responded. The two of you fell silent as Harwin steered you back towards the keep. It shouldn’t have surprised you that he led you right to the secret passage you had used to get out of the castle.

Smiling sheepishly, you removed your arm from his grasp and turned towards the passage. He bowed, giving you a quick “princess” before turning to head back towards the city streets.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, Ser Harwin.” You called over your shoulder, causing him to stop mid-step. He didn’t turn, but you heard him chuckle as he continued on. You smiled to yourself as you watched him leave for a moment, before turning and slipping into the passage.

—

Your game continued from then on, except you weren’t the only player. You would deliberately search for Harwin, and he would always take you right back to the keep– but you two became closer as time passed. You would drag out your walks to speak to him for just a minute more. He would insist on hiding in the shadows for a moment so he could survey the nearby crowd, only so he could get closer to you in the darkness.

Eventually, you could no longer entertain your nightly trips to the streets of King’s Landing. You were being watched more closely as tensions within the castle rose. It didn’t help that Rhaenyra’s scorned suitors were now turning to you, as their first choice had been wed to Laenor. If they couldn’t have the heir, at least they could still have a Targaryen.

Your father became engrossed in finding you a match– just as he had done for Rhaenyra. Of course, you had already made up your mind on who you wished to wed.

“What are you thinking about?”

Harwin’s rumbling voice broke you from your thoughts of marriage and politics. You smiled as you rolled over in your bed to face the man beside you.

“Marriage,” you replied honestly, closing your eyes as he brushed a strand of silver hair behind your ear.

“Marriage, hm?” He spoke, his hand coming to rest on your cheek. You nodded, your eyes still closed.

“Which lucky lord shall be your husband?” He asked, and you reached your hand up, resting it atop his.

“No decision has been made yet. Perhaps a Lannister? Maybe a Baratheon?”

“You wound me, Princess,” he said, and you giggled as you opened your eyes. He was smiling at you, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Oh, how about a Tully?”

“Truly, you have no heart,” he told you, to which you laughed. You removed his hand from your cheek, intertwining your fingers.

“Of course I wish to wed you, my love. I could not imagine marrying another.”

“The son of the hand and the daughter of the king. I’m sure the king will be thrilled,” Harwin spoke.

“The king will be thrilled to be rid of me,” you replied, shuffling closer to him. “I am a burden keeping him from focusing on his heir.”

“You,” Harwin said, “are no burden. The king is lucky to have a daughter as great as you.”

“Flattery suits you, Ser Harwin,” you giggled. He chuckled and released you hand in favor of reaching over and pulling you into his chest.

“Tell me more of how great I am.”

“That would take years, Princess,” he responded.

“I have plenty of those.”

Harwin chuckled again, a deep and soothing sound to your ears. You rested your head on his chest as he slipped his fingers through your hair.

“Let’s just stay here forever. No eyes watching. No family quarrels. Just us,” you whispered.

“Just us,” he repeated.

#game of thrones #game of thrones fic #house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon fic #harwin strong #ser harwin strong #harwin strong x reader #targaryen!reader #targaryen reader #Ser Harwin strong x reader #Harwin strong fic #house of the dragon x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #fluff #Harwin strong fluff #game of thrones fluff

[moodymisty]

Hey.

Totally understand if you don’t want to make a part two, but something that’s been living rent free in my head since I read the Lion’el painting fic you wrote is what would happen if his lover potentially retuned somehow? Maybe she’d been on a ship that experienced warp shenanigans so it’s only been a few years since she disappeared from her pov, how he’d react to her return and how she’d handle the RADICAL changes to the imperium.

Preferred sfw but I don’t really mind

Totally fine if you don’t want to do a part two but I did want to express how much I loved the fic and make the request now that they’re open.

PS I love all your stuff so much

- 🍀

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Sequel to this request. You will probably need to read that to understand most of what happens here.

Author's note: Hey friend! Here's a little continuation of that fic, I hope you enjoy it <3

Relationships: Lion'el Jonson/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None really

Lion'el is disturbed from his what can only be described as meditation with the harsh slamming of ceramite boots on flooring, up until the door behind him is thrown open. LIon'el doesn't move as they force their way into the small room, his hands still on his thighs.

"Father!" They even forgo the proper respects, though he ignores it. He doesn't however, ignore their next words.

"She is awake!"

Lion'el's eyes snap open, and he's up to his feet in moments, pushing past his men with little regard. He knows they're following, though he couldn't care less if they did.

He only cares about one thing now.

Lion'el had been hesitant to tell any of his these Dark Angels about you, since waking. They had never even known he had a wife, only that singular relic had even clued them into the fact that he had anyone, besides his legion. The entire time they'd never known that mysterious woman had been beneath their feet; Much like himself, in a way.

It seemed whatever had cast him into an endless slumber had did to you much the same, not many years later. You'd commanded his men briefly in his stead, but one day, you fell the same as him. He'd never known you were so close until recently. He'd thought you dead and gone since he'd awoken.

He hasn't seen you awake since those days just after the Heresy, and only recently when you were still asleep; Now here you are, groggy and eyes wet, trying to pull your arm away from a concerned medicae. You stop however, once you catch sight of him.

"Lion?"

Your voice is hoarse, like a gravely whisper, you look at him like you have trouble thinking he's real. Perhaps he looks too different for you to instantly recognize him. He knows his beard is rougher, face is harsher. But his armor is almost the exact same.

He walks closer. Past his sons who have maintained a cautious barrier; They know little about you. He pushes through them despite complaints and reaches your side, where your legs dangle off the edge of a stone slab his sons had put you on ten thousand years ago.

His hands reach to cup your face, and your own grasp his armor, desperately trying to pull him into a hug. He allows it, feeling your tears on the skin of his neck.

He can see the look of confusion in his geneson's eyes. How they all look at him displaying such weakness. He knows how far gone down the path they've gone, how his words have been twisted and warped beyond even what he thought was reasonable.

You pull away from his neck but he still feels your small hands against the nape of his neck, weaving into his hair.

"Lion, what's happened? The last I remember, Horus and Lorgar had-" He quiets you quickly.

"I will explain everything to you." He turns to the medicae who is still hovering close by, but hasn't been able to continue his duty since being interrupted.

"How is she," Lion'el speaks bluntly. It takes the man a moment to regain movement of his tongue.

"She appears normal on every scan, considering all that has happened."

With that reassurance Lion'el goes to pick you up, carrying you as close to bridal style as he can given your difference in size. When he turns to take you away however, Azrael comes into view with his squad shortly behind him.

"Father!"

Lion'el had confessed to your existance once he'd visited you and noticed you shift in your sleep. He'd sent guards to watch you as you- at the time he had thought hopefully- began to wake, and Azrael had to then be let in on the secret that had been lost for ten thousand years. Azrael as he expected acted with suspicion, though had held back his thoughts at the time. Now he seems to decide not to.

He doesn't need to say a single word, the way the astartes' hand flinches tells Lion'el everything he needs to know about what him and his squad are thinking.

Lion'el looks towards his geneson with nothing but coldness.

"If your hand moves closer to the pommel of your chainsword I will not hesitate to kill you where you stand."

Azrael gawks at him like he's offended.

"Father, we should be cautious, you don't know what kind of warp trickery has-" Lion'el stands straighter, still holding you in your arms. You're drowsy, but still well aware of the standoff that is happening as you grasp his armor for stability.

"She is my wife. She is the legion mother of Dark Angels from before and after the Heresy, and she commanded your ancestors when I fell. I do not need you to tell me what I see."

Lion'el walks forward and his men give way to him, allowing their genefather to pass. He can feel Azrael's displeasure, but he doesn't care.

He walks away from them all, and they wisely choose not to follow.

"Lion, How long have I been asleep? All of your men, you..." You look around the halls as he walks. "Everything look so different."

Lion'el is silent for a moment, until he returns to his quarters and gently sits you down on his own bed. One of his gauntlets comes to rest on the nook between your shoulder and neck, awkward as he always was but reassuring.

"The same illness that took me, it took you as well." You look exactly how he remembers you, it's like not a day has passed. Since waking he's blocked out those detailed memories of you; The feeling of your skin and gentle look in your eyes. They hurt to remember, but now that he has them back he doesn't know if he could do that again.

"You've been asleep for ten thousand years. Same as I."

Your face is frozen in a confused shock, your breath quickens, though at some point you simply accept it. Or perhaps stow the feelings away to eventually explode when your brain isn’t so and confused.

Your hand pulls to try and bring him closer, and he puts a gauntlet in your lap for you to grip as a compromise. Your small hands wrap around his fingers, squeezing to reassure yourself as you talk.

"I missed you. Being with your legion alone, I don't know how to describe how it felt." You weren't meant to do such a thing, lead an army, and Lion'el laments having to put it on you. He's sure you did well in your time, what short amount of it there was.

"Are you tired?" He asks, and you uncharacteristically let out a laugh.

"Not to be rude, but I think I've had quite enough of that for a few lifetimes, apparently." Lion'el doesn't smile, but his face does soften.

Finally alone, he also leans in to take a gentle kiss from you, your soft lips on his own as his beard scratches your skin. It feels just the same as he remembered.

"Then come with me. I'll show you what else you have missed."

#lion'el jonson x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

[alwritey-aphrodite]

PLEASE I’M BEGGING FOR MORE ARRANGED MARRIAGE SEJANUS I AM OBSESSED WITH HIM AND THE WAY YOU WRITE HIM I NEED THAT SWEET BOY BADLY (also i just love your writing in general!!!)

Here’s part one and part two :) pls feel free to send in more for these two I love them so much

It seems like every weekend, your parents are making up an event just to get you and Sejanus together. You’d explained to them that you talk to him all the time, that you see him every day at the academy, but they’re insistent on doing things properly, or at least doing things the way they envision them. The dresses and the food and the drinks you sneak are enjoyable, and you’re starting to find yourself craving Sejanus’s presence, but everything else about these parties makes you want to gouge your own eyes out.

When you tell him this as he drops you off after your classes, Sejanus just laughs, pushing at your shoulder slightly in a way he’s done a few times before. The more time you spend together, the more you notice Sejanus touching you, like he just wants to be as close to you as possible. It’s never anything your parents would deem unseemly, and the innocence of it all makes you giddy.

The gentle shove must have given you a contact high, because you find yourself squeezing his hand goodbye as you slip behind your heavy front door, only to be immediately whisked away to begin getting ready for the evening, leaving you no time to think wistfully about Sejanus, the boy all but driven from your mind as you help your mother move decorations and display silverware and then disappear to make yourself presentable up to your parents standards.

Later, the moment you lay eyes on Sejanus, you make a beeline through the room, looping your arm with his and tugging him from the overcrowded party. It’s a little shocking how quickly Sejanus has become such a fixture in your life. He’s always been a sweet, gentle boy, and as much as you didn’t mind talking to him before, you find yourself scanning every room you enter for his familiar curly head.

When you’re with him, giggling and rushing up the stairs before a party guest or your parents catch you, you’re able to forget about the fact that your life is ending even as it’s supposed to be just beginning. Sejanus will be a good husband, you’re sure of that, but you can’t help but be resentful of the circumstances, can’t help but hate the fact that he’ll go off to university and follow in his fathers footsteps, getting a high paying, well respected job, while you stay home and raise a brood of children. You like children, and you wouldn’t mind being a mother, but you know that being reduced to someone who gives birth and stays home isn’t the life for you.

Looking at Sejanus, at the way he stares at you like you’re something magnificent, something worthy of worship, you can imagine a different life. Maybe, if you’re lucky, times will change or you’ll forge your own path, but until then, you don’t mind having Sejanus at your side, in your corner, knowing he’ll support every decision you make.

When you reach the roof, an area of your house you definitely are not allowed to access, you pull a small bottle from inside your dress, grinning as Sejanus shakes his head.

“You know, your father is going to start noticing his collection is growing smaller,” he quips, even as he takes the bottle right out of your hands.

“I always replace them,” you retort, leaning your elbows against the short wall that keeps you from tumbling to your death.

Even though it sometimes seems like the two of you will never run out of things to talk about, you’re both silent, soaking in the quiet night air and the view from the top of your estate. You start feeling antsy, though, strange feelings tangling in your gut and you’re desperate for some relief.

“Do you ever get worried? About all of this?” You ask, as vaguely as you can manage, chipping away at the armor you’d so carefully crafted your entire life. Even as you and Sejanus spent more and more time together, you kept yourself safely guarded, ready to turn and run and fight if necessary.

Now, though, you feel yourself growing tired, tired of being so strong and defiant and brave all the time. It might be nice to have someone hold you up for a while, let you regain your strength. You’ve always been in a position of power with Sejanus, always been able to make him blush and stutter and momentarily shut down with just a glance, and you like the way that makes you feel, you like being in control. And, it doesn’t hurt that he looks breathtakingly stunning every time he blushes, cheeks turning pink and dimples deepening in a way that’s so adorable you almost lose your cool every time.

“I’m worried all the time, about everything,” Sejanus tells you earnestly, eyes painted with something deeper than you’d care to believe. He’s always so lovely, with his dimples and his curls and his deep brown eyes, but it’s his heart, his soul, that sends you spiraling. It shouldn’t be fair that someone so beautiful is so completely wonderful, in every possible way.

“It’s nice to have you here,” you tell him, trying your very hardest to regain your footing while hoping he understands what you’re trying to say, what you can’t say yet. To your delight, you can see the way his cheeks redden in the glow of the moonlight, and you know he understands what you mean, and that you’re back where you’re meant to be, teasing Sejanus until he becomes a blushing mess.

Based on the way he reaches for the bottle again, grinning, you’re sure he enjoys this game just as much as you do.

Tagging @beybaldes because I love her and I love that she loves these babies as much as me

#sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth x you #sejanus plinth fanfiction #sejanus x reader #sejanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

[jymwahuwu]

wingweaver anon here again XD.

i come back with silly brainrots. what if the reader has those hormonal shifts during spring and summer time and starts nesting, gathering pillows and blankets and little trinkets and comfort items close by. and she WANTS to let jing yuan in...perhaps she's grown used to the intimacy they share, perhaps not.

...but...she can't help but feel...unimpressed with him.

yes he's very impressive and yes he's sweet but...he's not really DONE much to woo her now has he? instinct dictates she push him away and find a more suitable mate, one with a better song, who will present better food and shiny items to you.

aka reader is going through her mating season and is very deprived and needy and fully expects jing yuan to show the proper etiquette before even DARING to set foot into her nest he gets scratched otherwise.

jing yuan : no let me in?

reader : you're cute, but you have no shiny. you don't sing. you haven't offered to preen me, or get me berries. what kind of man are you?

jing yuan : :000000 wait wot-

in the end, he does impress reader enough to be let in, and the first thing he does is grab her by the leg, pull her close and give her the fucking of a lifetime. surely the idea of starting a family wouldn't be too far off? look, she's even prepared a nest tp hold them, and he'll be a good father, providing for his little bird and their young ones.

( i'm sorry, you really don't have to write this out. i just think it would be hilarious just...watching jing yuan flounder because his darling???? is being fussy???? she wants him to sing for her?????? she wants berries and shinies????????? and then he just...sits down and gets cracking on general bird mating behaviors while reader is sitting in the corner like "well??? are you going to make a move or should i find someone else????" )

-CW: yandere, dub-con, breeding

part 1

This brainrot is too adorable!! Jing Yuan’s most precious little bird is going through her estrus… Although you didn’t ask for it, I wrote a little bit🫢🤗💖

Even General Xianzhou couldn't expect this, you just have wings after all. He didn't expect you to be in heat like a bird. It’s really interesting to see this hundreds of years old man overwhelmed 🤭

Jing Yuan immediately searched for the keywords "birds + estrus + wingweaver" in the database, and those holographic data blocks immediately swam around him. His eyes were darting around and reading the information he needed, and you were already… squirming on the nest? It was actually a bed with cozy blankets on it. You pouted and puffed out your cheeks, glaring at him angrily. The instinct in your head is calling you to find a better mate, one who will pursue you appropriately. Maybe your confused mind thinks he is a savage bird kidnapping you back to his nest…

Bird courtship behavior:

Singing

Display beautiful feathers

Bring delicious food and shiny stones as gifts

Decorate the love nest together

Dancing

Demonstrate hunting ability

…

There won't be enough time to order berries or collect trinkets for you. You're already questioning him. So… Jing Yuan took off his armor and robe… showing off his burly and well-trained chest and shoulders. He smiled leisurely at you. Your distracted eyes focused, and you felt heat radiating from your neck, your legs began to lose strength, and your wings trembled and fluttered. "you- you……"

"Shhh, come to me. Here's your preen." Jing Yuan opened his arms and simulated the sound of people teasing their pet birds.

You snuggled into his comforting arms. The sensitive wings are carefully groomed. You were about to assume a position that would allow for mating, but the general had already caught you and started breeding. You rocked on top of him, placing your hands on his shoulders and moaning softly. After a round of breeding, your legs were once again pinned as high as they could by his hands. His fat cock is thrusting upwards, thrusting inside your throbbing needy cunt.

It was finally burned into your head - no one could pursue you like he could, no one could mate with you like he could. Jing Yuan is the only spouse you need💖

divider @/cafekitsune

#yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan #yandere hsr x reader #yandere jing yuan x reader #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #jing yuan x female reader

[jacevelaryonswife]

Golden and Silver, my new colors | part two

That day Aemond had thought about you more than ever. Maybe it was time to deal with his ghosts and allow your to approach, to see beyond what his eye could see.

∴ pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Wife!reader

∴warnings and a note: slight angst, pregnancy, some reader’s thoughts may be a little aggressive to the topic of pregnancy, spiteful reader, english is not my first language. There's a bit of book!aemond here.

golden and silver masterlist

Duty was more important than petty desires. Prince Aemond did not wish to marry so suddenly, but he performed his duty with obedience. You were a good lady, beautiful and quite polite, but nothing more. You were like all the others that made up the royal court, just normal, there was nothing special about you and he didn't have to convince himself of that. However, there were certain moments when he almost leaned into your touch and let himself sink into the melody of your voice a little longer. It was unexpected, sudden, and almost ripped a hole in the armor that protected him from your affection. It started when you so proudly displayed his colors in your dresses and jewelry, the blue with the purple hues of sapphires enhancing your beauty. Later when you asked him about reading preferences, maybe your intention wasn't as genuine, but it was a good attempt at rapprochement.

He knew that his posture did not match that of a husband, nor the husband you deserved, but it was strange to deal with your presence and especially your affection. No lady ever bothered to disguise their disgust when crossing his path. No matter how good he was with a sword or if he owned the largest dragon in the world, in the end he was just Aemond One-Eye, not as handsome as his younger brother or lucky enough to be the firstborn. So imagine his surprise at not receiving your dislike? You were a pretty little thing, a little afraid and almost desperate for your husband's attention and approval. A good, kind lady, in his mother's words. A nice ass and nice tits, in Aegon's words. Yet what prevented him from removing a part of the shield to allow entry? You weren't dismissive, much less cunning or cruel. A part of him refused to budge, another part just didn't have enough interest. Too simple maybe.

But then the news of your pregnancy hit him. He would be a father. It was particularly strange to the ears. Not all men are born to be fathers — he had some very close examples — so the thought troubled him. How could he be a decent father if he kept failing as a husband? He was aware of his flaw though he didn't do much to remedy it, not even Alicent's constant advice and suggestions made him change. However, things will never be the same, you were pregnant, expecting a little dragon in your womb, his dragon. The thought that had haunted him before (and continued to haunt him) now gave him a small twinge of pride.

“I hope that with this happy event you can understand each other,” the queen said.

That day Aemond had thought about you more than ever. Maybe it was time to deal with his ghosts and allow your to approach, to see beyond what his eye could see. He kept his hand over your for the better part of the dinner his mother had arranged last night — much to the delight of both families — and an almost satisfied expression was visible on his face. On the other hand, you were quieter than usual. Your answers were short and your gaze was almost always beyond the moment. Women were emotional, he knew that, and pregnancy tended to make them even more sensitive by what the books said. It could be something or it could be nothing.

To the surprise of everyone present, it was something. Unexpected and uncomfortable, to say the least. His tender and obedient wife, so affable and meek has just displayed an unknown and almost aggressive facet. Aemond could choose the blindness of ignorance and believe the nonsense his father had said to smooth your way out, but he knew better that wasn't a good sign, especially when you treated him apathetically in subsequent developments. At that moment the one-eye prince felt different sensations, but none were as terrifying as the realization of guilt. It could be a coincidence in fact, but it wasn't what his heart pointed out. After returning to the small dinner, Aemond reassured your parents and his mother with false words that he wisely disbelieved. Would it be naive to believe that your devotion would remain active without any kind of return? He mulled this over at the owl hour as you rested facing the wall. A small detail.

The next day when orange rays directly illuminated his face, Aemond noticed the empty bed before he noticed another small detail: you didn't wake him. Often your hands touched him on the face or shoulder so you had breakfast together every day. All from the first day of marriage. He faced the ceiling as he brooded over the situation. Maybe you needed to go somewhere, maybe the pregnancy made you more sensitive, maybe just like him you didn't know how to deal with the news. There were many options, but the one that tormented him was caused by himself.

That morning you felt a sudden urge to get away from him. Aemond was also a morning person, but he woke up a few minutes after you, giving you the advantage of sneaking out. Not that it was too difficult, you thought, your presence wasn't usually appreciated, what difference would it make?

Your personal maid had set the table as usual, but this time you didn't bother to dismiss her immediately for privacy with Aemond. She asked about the prince, which you answered quickly. Not a word was exchanged after that, you didn't even notice when she withdrew upon the arrival of your husband, too caught up in your current condition. A child, you would have a child soon and you couldn't get anything good out of it. Would you be able to love him with all the grudge you held in your chest? Would you be able to love this child while wishing his father would get out of your sight?

The wisest thing to do was to suppress such feelings and move on as a devoted wife and honorable daughter. But you didn't want that. No, you wanted to feel the grudge in it’s most palpable and fervent state. You wanted the freedom to feel and want what you desire without the interference of right or wrong.

"How are you feeling?" asked Aemond, breaking the silence.

"I’m fine."

That's all the two of you talked about. Interestingly, both the question and the answer were not completely honest. Yes, Aemond worried about you because of your condition, but mostly because he noticed the change in your behavior. And yes, you were physically fine and healthy, but on the inside… you just wanted to slaughter him.

Your meeting with the craftswoman was just after breakfast, the dress you wore was light orange, the majority color of your house, which would soon be replaced by shades of gold and silver. You also asked for new jewels of the same colors, of the most diverse sizes and shapes. You were a little extravagant and always liked to be neat. One of the perks of being a member of the royal family was the improved quality of cloth.

“I ask you to make them as soon as you can, I want to have them with me soon.”

“And the other dresses, my lady… the ones you own?” Asked the artisan's assistant, receiving a rigid answer from her:

“It is none of your business, Irma.”

"There’s no problem. I'm actually thinking of distributing them to the other ladies of the court or to the women of the poorest part of Kingslanding”, your voice was calm. "I never liked green, it won't be a problem to discard them." You didn't mind the look exchanged between the two women, very interested in the new models you would own.

On that day, the tradition that you and your friends kept of getting together whenever one was pregnant happened. You were the last of the small group and expected to be nervous. You felt nervous whenever you remembered the fact, but you were happy to be in the beautiful garden on a beautiful day.

“Have you thought of the names yet?” Drusilla asked.

“Not yet,” you replied as you took a piece of lemon cake.

"Valyrian names are very beautiful, but please don't name Aegon if it's a boy or Rhaenys if it's a girl," your other friend Livilla said, making you laugh.

“Please, how many Aegons has House Targaryen seen? I don't intend to collaborate with another one”, you replied in a good mood.

“And the prince? Did he suggest any names?” Kalena asked, bringing a sour taste to your mouth. Oh please, you meant to reply with an eye roll.

"No, not once, but if he wants to suggest it it should be a tawdry name like Maegor." Your tone was more prickly than usual, more than you intended to show (no less than you felt). Your friends smiled with some concern, and the comment in particular caught Livilla's attention.

"What's he like? You know, he was always so quiet and reserved?” she asked.

“He is quiet and reserved, nothing more.” Looks like I married a door, you wanted to say, but you chose not to reveal too much. You never know when the walls might hear.

“At least he is not unfaithful like Prince Aegon,” Drusilla said. How lucky I am. “It was a little difficult with Willas at first, we were strangers and I always thought his brother was better looking, but he was the heir, not Tyrent. However, time and the magical treasure he keeps in his legs made things easier.”

“Drusilla!” Kalena looked at her with wide eyes before laughing.

"You can't blame me for being fond of my husband's dowry!" she made light of it, “what about prince aemond, what is he like back there in four walls?”

“Uh…” you tried. “I don't know, is it normal? I think. I don't know."

“I'm sorry, dear”, it was Livilla's turn to speak. “I always thought that behind that black wall there would be a fierce stallion.”

“Behind that wall are as many other walls as the swords that forge the Iron Throne, believe me,” you complained.

“Targaryens, love them devotedly or hate them bitterly,” Drusilla said, studying your posture.

“Don't let these things get you down. Men are like that, they take time to appreciate what really matters. Perhaps now, with the pregnancy, he will open up to the present at your side,” Livilla said with a friendly smile.

You knew the risk of her next words, especially if they were heard, but you couldn't help it.

“What if I don't want to?”

On the other side of the palace the queen was talking alone with your husband. Not for the first time, but she hoped it might be the last —they both hoped for different reasons. She asked what happened last night, which he answered truthfully.

"I don't know, she's been quiet ever since."

“She’s pregnant, it’s a difficult but happy period. You are very lucky to have her by your side.”

“You already said that.”

“And you don't seem to listen. Do you think I like to repeat that?” She asked. “What's the problem, Aemond? What is the problem that makes you not understand?”

He did not answer.

“I have my own things to manage, the things of the kingdom in your father's absence. Do you know how much it demands?”

"Yes mother."

“Then why do you insist on going through with it?”

"I'm not asking-"

“But I’m your mother! And believe me, I've been in her place. It's been a long time since your union, Aemond, don't make things difficult on purpose. You will be a father soon, act like it, act like the son I raised.”

His gaze was hazy, hard to read. He hated being charged or warned about something he knew, he didn't need it, Aegon did. Leaving his mother's room after being dismissed, the one-eye prince knew he had a decision to make, but he didn't know he had little time to do so.

taglist: @immyowndefender @arcielee @malfoytargaryen @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @fan-goddess @dark-night-sky-99 @siriusdumblittlepuppy @let-love-bleeds-red @sassysaxsolo @cicaspair418 @yentroucnagol @mefools @risefallrise @auratiqs @glitterandgoldfinds @bellaisasleep @plzletmedaydream @padfooteyes @bellameshipper ✨✨

Thank you everyone for the positive feedback! There are a few people I wasn't able to tag, but I appreciate all the feedback received 💙

#aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond oneshot #prince aemond #aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond one eye #fanfic #angst

[prod-ddeonu]

dear anon, I'm working on the jungwon piece for you ;) Prince Sunghoon is all that came to mind for your request. PRINCE SUNGHOON. So I threw a twist to that 😉

—--

As the Sun would shine down upon your kingdom, the people would frolic and celebrate a sunny morning. As soon as they stepped foot outside, the clouds would darken and release a heavy downpour onto them. This is commonly known as “bad luck”.

You, seated at the window in your ballroom, faced a much different situation. As the crown princess of your kingdom, you were expected to marry a man of equal stature or power. A noble feat, indeed (most men were insufferable or worse, old).

Your spouse was to be determined at a coming-of-age ball, where you'd dance with suitors and speak to people until you found the one. The only problem: you had two left feet when it came to dancing.

You were the most skilled fighter in your kingdom, the most agile and flexible athlete, and possibly one of the best archers to have been born into the royal family. Your legs could hold you in any position humanly possible, as long as it wasn't a waltz.

You sighed, tucking your head between your knees as you recalled the lessons you'd been taking for weeks on how to dance traditionally. “It's just not working,” you grumbled, pressing play on the music again.

“What's not working?” A voice beside you asked suddenly.

Your head snapped to the side as you jumped in fear. Your wide eyes met the big, round ones you'd grown familiar with over the past years of your life.

Park Sunghoon, the King’s second-in-command, sat next to you in the same position. His brunette hair swept over his eyes, his beauty marks on full display with how the sun hit him through the window.

Sunghoon was the same age as you, and had always been working in the castle. He came as a hungry orphan when he was twelve, and quickly flew up the ranks as a knight. When he turned eighteen, your father appointed him as the first commander of the royal army.

After returning from a battle with the heads of rebels who wished to harm you, the King gave him the additional position of his second-in-command. Being a man of his position, he was able to visit other countries, live in the castle, and earn a high wage. Being a man of his background, however, he was able to marry anyone he wanted; he could marry anyone, as long as it wasn't you.

He'd long given up on his dreams of being your husband, waking up in the mornings to you next to him, your delicate smile energizing him enough to get through the day. He knew that the chances of his dream ever coming true were less than zero, but his heart never gave up hope.

You shook your head at him as you rolled your eyes. “Sunghoon, you seem to have a knack for sneaking up on people,” you sighed.

He cheerfully smiled. “Well, milady. It isn't my fault that I'm much quieter without the metal suit,” he shrugged, his commoner twang having never gone away. “What's bothering you?”

“I'm supposed to be able to waltz by this weekend, but I've retained no information from my classes,” you put your hands over your face, dragging them down.

Sunghoon stood, a small groan of exertion leaving his mouth as he did so. He held his hand out to you, smiling. “I think I can teach you a thing or two, milady,” he grabbed your hand to pull you up.

The two of you stood together as he reviewed the proper steps of a waltz. “Try doing a box step first,” he looked at your feet. “Back, out, in, and then forward, out, in.”

He did the dance for you as an example, his legs standing strongly against the ground. His usual armor was missing from his figure that morning. He wore a simple commoner’s outfit, with leather pleats over his knees and elbows.

He motioned his hand out to you, asking you to perform the same moves. You took one step back before tripping and falling onto your rear.

The two of you glanced around the room as you locked eyes and began to laugh. “Maybe it would help if I led you,” he pulled you back up, his hands enveloping your own.

The two of you spent hours practicing the different waltz steps. Many of Sunghoon’s toes hurt from being stepped on, but he smiled as you slowly gained confidence in the dance.

“Let's see if you can still waltz with a distraction,” Sunghoon mischievously smiled. “Pretend I'm a prince that you have to talk to, and don't stop dancing until our conversation is over.”

You nodded. Starting the dance, you let Sunghoon take the rest of the lead. “Good evening to you, prince,” you smiled.

“Well, might I say good afternoon to you, too, princess,” Sunghoon responded in a poor British accent.

You laughed, your hand hitting his chest. “I think I prefer when you speak normally.”

“Right, right. What brings you to this ball?” He asked, staying in character.

“I have to find someone to marry before the night is over,” your shoulders slumped.

Sunghoon pulled them back up, his muscular stature easily keeping your posture. “And what seems to be the problem with that?”

“I don't want to marry someone I don't know,” you sighed. “What about you?”

Sunghoon’s steps faltered, blushing slightly. He looked away before clearing his throat. “I, um, have someone I want to marry already.”

Your eyes widened. “Sunghoon! You've got to tell me who it is, you can't just marry someone and not tell your friend!”

His eyes avoided yours as he nervously continued the dance. His Adams apple bobbed with each hard swallow he took. When he responded with silence, you took a step back.

“Sunghoon, is it someone you can't tell me about?” You asked, stepping back and placing your hands on his chest. His head fell forward, staring at the floor.

You opened your mouth to ask again when he placed his hands on top of your own, completely covering the small fingers on your hand with his own. He looked up into your eyes, an unreadable expression on him.

“It's you, milady. It's always been you.”

He pulled your hands up to his neck, wrapping your arms around him as he pulled you in by your waist. Your heart fluttered at the action, butterflies attempting their escape from your stomach.

His lips softly landed against your own, a sweet kiss being placed onto you. They were soft like pillows, yet they made you feel fireworks in your head. Everything in your world was foggy except Sunghoon at that moment.

He pulled away slowly, his eyes reading shame, but his toothy grin reading happiness. “I shouldn't have done that,” he sadly laughed.

You pulled him in again, pressing a kiss against his lips again. Your mouths moved in sync, smiles and laughter filling the room.

“Who says you shouldn't have done that, Sunghoon?” You pulled away, smiling.

He smiled that same sad smile again. “You know we can't, Y/N. I'm a commoner, you're a princess. It would never be allowed."

“You're the first commander of the royal army, you're my father’s most trusted member of the castle, and more importantly, you're the one I've been in love with since we were kids.”

He blushed, his eyes wide. “You love me?”

“Undoubtedly.”

He pulled you in, hugging you close as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that?”

“Is it long enough that you're willing to realize you're much more than your upbringing?”

He smiled down to you again. “I hope you don't mind a commoner husband.”

“I'd never, as long as it's you.”

----

AH this is not proofread, but please enjoy!

#enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fluff #enha smau #enhypen jake #enhypen jay #enhypen smau #enhypen smut #enhypen sunghoon #enha heeseung #enhypen heeseung #enha sunghoon #sunghoon #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon angst #sunghoon smut #drabble

[inkluvs]

fields of white clover

knight! steve harrington x fem!princess!reader

content warnings: time period discrepancies. cinderella reference kinda. royal au. steve is literally obsessed with you. hopper as a father figure. this is pretty much just world building.

summary: steve catches sight of you at a ceremony and finds you fascinating <3

a/n: posted 2 months or so ago originally (copy and pasting the original a/n bcos most of it still applies), i wanna thank @maddipoof for being my cheerleader n figuring out all of my incoherant thought with their super special decoder abilities <3 also @livingintheupsidedown ; @crappymixtape ; @ghostlyfleur ; @forevermoreharrington ; @theemporium ; and @beezywriting since they all read bits of it i was unsure about <3 also this is just the set up for future stuff and nothing really happens <3 it's just steeb being sorta head over heels for u <3

part one // series masterlist // taglist

You didn’t quite understand what you were doing with hundreds of nobles and servants around you. You knew what it was, of course, a ceremony; the kind you were required to be at to prepare you for your future, but you'd been spared any more details. It was funny, the way you’d been told that your presence was of the utmost importance this time in particular and still you had been given no details on why you had to be there, nor were you given details on why you couldn't sit in your regular seat. 

You normally wouldn’t mind it, the extent to which you’d been kept in the dark, but it would be helpful to know why there were so many pairs of leering eyes, staring at you like they were waiting for you to mess up. 

The majority of the time you had a choice. Whether or not you wanted to attend had always been an opportunity you'd chosen to take every time it had been offered. So much so that despite never having been taught about the process of swearing fealty in detail until you were fifteen, you’d been able to recite the oath at any given moment since the age of ten. 

Using your hand to shield your eyes from the sunlight, you noticed a man a couple of meters from you doing the same. He was tall, his hair a honey blonde in the sunlight. Something about him made him look ethereal despite not being able to see the details of his face. The way the light was reflecting off the metal of his armor and towards you, the direction shifting ever so slightly when he turned his torso gave him a sort of glow. There was a dull ache in the back of Steve's eyes. The throbbing only increased as he squinted, his eyelashes fluttering as he looked around. 

The way his curiosity seemed to heighten when he caught sight of you was similar to that of a child when they're told not to do something. It was the way he knew he shouldn't stare, that somebody would reprimand him later, but he couldn't help but think that there was something off about you. He didn’t know how he came to that conclusion, perhaps it was how out of place yet well-adjusted to your surroundings you seemed. It seemed like you’d done this before, so much so that you were bored. 

Steve couldn't if your uninterest intrigued him or offended him, maybe it was both, the irritation leading him to find curiosity in your nonchalance. He also couldn't tell why his train of thought was leading him there, maybe he was just as uninterested and you'd been the first person to openly display it, or maybe he simply found you that captivating. Something about the way you presented yourself was inherently enchanting to him. Suddenly, Steve from his thoughts, the whistle of the wind was no longer the only thing he could hear as heat rose to his cheeks.   

“Something catch your eye?” a familiar voice quipped. Steve shook his head quickly before shifting his attention to his surroundings, almost disoriented before he remembered where he was and what he’d been doing. He looked back to see who’d asked only to realize it was the face of a man he’d half recognized, not quite sure of his name. He turned back to you intending to only look for a second, but once again he ended up staring. The fact that you could so easily immerse him in you, the thoughts circling his mind of things unfamiliar and foreign to him, without even speaking to him was terrifying.  

Somehow, Steve composed himself enough to notice the king’s attempt to gather everybody's attention. In a matter of minutes, everybody had quieted down, waiting for the king to speak as the wind bit at their skin.   

The king took his stance next to you, standing tall above the crowd on the dais with the queen on his arm. He nodded once to the herald and looked across the crowd. The same routine as every ceremony.   

“My beloved subjects,” but you were new, “I am honored by your service and fealty. There is no prouder king than I, standing before you.” A lady in waiting possibly, “Time and again you have shown your strength, honor, and allegiance to your king, your royal family, and your country. You have my endless gratitude.” No, you’re too beautiful for a lady in waiting.

“But I would be doing us all a great disservice if I did not extend my thanks to my daughter,” a duchess, maybe, “The princess.” The king’s words echoed in the pavilion as the crowd muttered with uncertainty. He held his hand out to you, and you stepped forward hesitantly.

She’s the princess.

“The relentless devotion she has shown to our country and our people is beyond words. There is no greater love than that of your princess to her kingdom. I am certain she will be a most beloved queen, and as that time draws nearer, as does her coronation. Your next pledge shall be not only to me as your king but to her as your crown princess as well. I know you will all do well to honor your allegiance to her as she shall to you.”  

Everything seemed to come together in his mind at once, why you had looked so bored and why you struck him as different than anybody he’d ever met before. Now that he thought about it, you must’ve been to at least twenty of these ceremonies, each with a similar if not exactly the same speech and the same people. As much as he hated to admit it, Steve felt a stab of pity for you. He was only able to continuously attend such events since he had a choice, at least the majority of the time. And though he would never say it, out loud he still didn’t always enjoy every one he’d been to.    

And suddenly he was moving forward. He’d found himself lost in thought yet again, unaware of the fact that he'd been moving till somebody behind him bumped into him. His boots suddenly felt tight against the sole of his feet, his legs stiff as he fought the urge to turn around and leave. He wouldn’t do it of course, but somehow the thought of getting closer to you made him jittery. He flexed his palm before squeezing it into a fist, repeating the motion until his muscles became less tense.   

Steve couldn’t remember when he’d started this habit of sorts, just that it was now second nature to him, subconsciously flexing his hand and then squeezing it into a fist when he was trying to control himself or occasionally when he needed to focus. He was doing the latter now, still repeating the action as the leather heel of his boots sunk into the grass, the dirt muddy from rain the previous night. He stopped walking just as abruptly as he’d started, now a few inches from the dais.     

Steve looked at you again, except this time he was close enough to notice the slight pucker in your brow. The sunlight was no longer obstructing his vision as he saw you instinctively straighten your back with the weight of thousands of leering eyes. The pucker in your brow seemed to ease as the crowd dispersed, your eyes raking over the crowd until they caught sight of him staring back at you. Your lips twitched as you considered how you should respond before you decided on simply smiling at him. Steve mirrored your expression, and he felt a sudden sense of relief surging through him at your lack of reaction. It took him a moment to realize you were motioning him to come closer, and another minute for him to work up the courage to do so.  

You slowly lowered yourself off of the dais, praying that nobody was paying enough attention to you to notice before you landed on the ground. The grass crunched under your feet and you. Steve couldn’t tell how but you were more captivating up close. His eyes strayed to the curve of your lips, tracing the soft dip of your waist apparent in your kirtle.  

And suddenly, in a whirlwind of motion, you were gone. Steve looked around for the deep maroon of your dress, turning around until he noticed a scrap of the fabric left behind on the dais. He looked to his left and then his right before carefully pulling the cloth from the nail it had gotten caught on. Looping it around his wrist once, he tied a knot, just tight enough that it wouldn’t slip off. 

It wasn’t wrong, right? He intended to give it back to you, though he didn’t have the slightest clue when that was.  

- 

Steve’s back ached when he woke up. He didn’t know why, and he also didn’t know when he’d gotten back to his bed, but that was something to think about later. Instead, he was worrying about what he’d do with the shred of your dress, which was still on his wrist despite his tendency to move around in his sleep. 

“Are you up yet?” a familiar voice pierced through the momentary veil of silence in the manor. He sat up, fiddling with the fabric in an unsuccessful attempt to undo the knot he’d tied the previous day. Hopper saw the deep maroon of the fabric before he could hide it and Steve sucked in a breath through his teeth, waiting for his response. 

“How did you get that?” he paused. Steve opened his mouth to reply but Hopper's eyes went wide as he cut the boy off, “Tell me you didn’t steal it.” 

Steve shook his head almost instantly, appalled that the thought had even crossed the man's mind. Hopper seemed to deflate with relief. 

“I found it,” he explained vaguely. Hopper held back a laugh at the boy's unclear clarification.

“Yeah?” Steve nodded, “who’s is it?” 

And suddenly, over two decades' worth of barriers Steve had built around his vulnerability fell all at once. He looked at Hopper like a guilty little boy, like he’d accidentally dropped and shattered his mother's vase and he’d been caught near the scene. He looked at Hopper like he was scared of his potential response. The intensity of his gaze softened at the boy’s silence. He somehow seemed to understand Steve’s sensitivity regarding the subject.

“I found it on the edge of the dais,” he wasn’t technically lying. 

“You still aren’t answering my question,” Hopper said quietly. 

“You won’t be mad?” the man shook his head earnestly

“I found it at the ceremony yesterday,” Steve paused, thinking over his next words, “It’s from the princess’s dress, got torn on a screw” 

Somehow, when the words finally started falling from his tongue, they wouldn’t stop or slow down, the sentences he strung together becoming more rushed and incoherent with each passing one, the words toppling on top of one another and slurring in his throat as he recalled what had happened the previous day. 

“You should’ve seen her,” he trailed off, his eyes staring off into space as he smiled all fond. Hopper smiled at the boy’s lovesick demeanor, an odd sense of pride filling him with Steve’s vulnerability. It wasn't often that he opened up, so Hopper made sure to recognize it when he did.

“Are you going to give it back?” he prodded gently. Steve nodded.

“Next time I see her, yeah,” he replied, frowning as he did so. Steve hated the uncertainty of it all, the fact that he didn’t know when he’d see you next, or that he didn’t know what you wanted to say to him the previous day. He detested the spontaneity of it and the idea that he didn’t know the next time he’d bump into you, having been used to rigid rules and calculated decisions, yet Steve thought he could get used to it for you.

#ivy is writing ! #steve harrington (ivy’s version) #stluvs #steve harrington #steve harrington reader insert #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington au #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #knight au #knight!steve harrington

[headcanons-n-shit]

since there was already a prompt abt pining can i ask for hcs on how the ffxiv boys (+leofard?) would go about expressing their interest in a particularly dense wol? 😊

We do love a dense motherfuker

Thancred is fucjing suffering over here. He cannot possibly make his intentions any more obvious. The problem is that hes accidentally played himself-- hes spent so long disguising his feelings as jokes, or as ploys on missions, and now you just assume that his flirting and holding your hand and wanting to be in your space all the time is just what the two of you do. He ends up having to go all rose petals and sappy love confession under the moonlight like some kind of storybook love interest. Its so sappy, embarrassing, but its also so, so sweet.

Urianger is, unfortunately, painfully Sharlyan about the whole thing. He gives you nice paper, expensive ink, masterwork tools, intricate glasswear for your alchemy lab. Practical, highquality armor. A delicately embroidered handkerchief. He thinks hes being overly forward with his affections, you think hes just being a really good friend, yshtola would rather drown herself than watch the rest of this soap opera play out.

Literally what else does G'raha need to do to prove his devotion to you??? The man unwound time and unraveled space just to be by your side. He was practically your sugardaddy your entire time on the First. He almost, almost thought you were flirting back with him when you brought him food from the Last Stand, and then Alphinaud and alisae and krile trotted in behind you and it took every ounce of his Exarch discipline not to retreat with his tail between his legs. Pls this man is suffering.

Estinien literally can not. Look me in the eyes. This stinky dragoon has spent a good half his life behind an armet. He is a horrible mix of country bumpkin, career soldier, aymeric's half-assed attempts to pound courtly decorum into estiniens dumb empty head, and Nidhoggs instincts. He wants to cook you food, drag you into a corner and kiss you silly, send you flowers, and bring you something he killed with his bare hands. He ends up doing all four. Not necessarily in that order.

Aymeric is dying. You are going to be the death of him. He has gone through great pains to discover your favorite flower and have them always displayed in your room. He has written you letters full of poetry. He has showered you with gifts. He has invited you to dine with him. At this point the other nobles are asking whether its going to be a spring or summer wedding, and he doesnt know how to explain how you are still woefully oblivious bc he cant explain it himself.

Haurchefant gave you a LITERAL DOWRY. He handed you the reins to an extremely expensive war-trained black de chocobo in front of everyone whos ever mattered to him and also half of ishgard, and then he had to stand there dying internally while you praised him for being a "good friend". There are bets not on whether hes going to throw you over his shoulder and carry you to his room to. Ahem. Prove his devotions. But rather on how long it will take him to break.

Sidurgu. Barely has memories of the Orl traditions around courtship. His mother had often regaled him with stories of how she had courted his father. Food, presense and friendship, proofs of skill. And yes, it frustrates him that you seem to brush off his attempts, but. Well. It took almost five years for his mother and father to get together, from the way they told it. Hes learned a lot for your sake, and for rielles. He can learn patience too.

Leofard is a pirate. He doesnt dance around the bush, he strikes when the metal is hot and takes what he wants. It works well with garlean airships and the odd unfortunate merchant. Not. So much with you. One, because your consent and emotions are important to him. Two, because you are so. Fucking. Dense. He steals silks and jewels and fancy foods for you, spends time with you, saved your life from diabolos, told you his sad life story. Hes one step from throwing himself at you like some fainting dame, and its embarrassing.

(Hes not gonns stop tho)

#ff14 #ff14 headcanons #thancred waters #graha tia #urianger augurelt #estinien wyrmblood #estinien varlineau #aymeric de borel #haurchefant greystone #sidurgu orl #leofard myste #wolcred #wolianger #grahawol #wolstinien #wolmeric #haurchewol #sidwol #leofard/wol

[onlyseokmins]

limbo • w.j.h.

Pairing: wen junhui x afab!reader

Genres: smut (minors dni!), afterlife!au

Warnings: this is kinda plot heavy not good smut but lezzgo just in case 😭 um daggers (no knife play tho dhdjjs), lil bit of threats and maybe violence, junhui deserves a warning himself I think he's hot, tying up/tentacle play kind of but it's shadows um like idk how to describe it 🤡 supernatural things!, biting 🦷, mentions of blood, death, lil bit of angst but I'm fluffy as usual <3, lots of mentions of souls and afterlife shenanigans, thigh riding, mirror sex, pls forgive me and just hmu if I missed smth

WC: 2.5k

A/N: for the lovely @katetattoolover <3 mwah I hope you enjoy this even if my brain died halfway writing it ndksksks another unplanned thing but limbo is just too powerful... Also for my huihuis mwah ILY... Idk how to describe this but I'm in a spooky mood bc of Halloween fics so this kind of played into it ig? I just like the plot 😭😅

If you were in heaven or hell, you didn't know. And you didn't care.

The fact of the matter was that you did know where you were. 

Limbo. 

The great boundary between worlds. Soul suspended, unable to leave. Not until you made a decision based on the knowledge gathered about your death that you learned here.

Neither heaven, hell, or earth.

A bleary place full of everything and nothing. Guarded and watched over by the enigmatic figure whose dark eyes were trained on you.

Blonde tresses tinged with white highlights are smoothly swept up in a ponytail to display his ears where little diamond studs twinkle like stars. When you'd first met him at the gates, he'd been wearing what you could only presume as combat armor, despite its lack of protection across his midriff. Vainly showing off his well-defined abs.

Now, he's donning a ruffled white blouse that looks like something old paintings of the founding fathers would have been dressed in. It suits him though, the v-cut down the front granting a delicious view of his décolletage and scorched ends adding to his devastating visuals. 

You wonder how no one has succeeded in brutally attacking him with how exposed his outfits were but you suppose his eerie beauty is enough to render anyone immobile. Besides, even when his disinterested gaze shifts from you to the large glass of what you hope is simply wine, you can feel the shuddering intensity of the power he holds. Dangerous enough that it causes even your soul's shape to ripple in the stagnant air.

"You're a curious one, you know? Most are on their knees, begging for mercy."

"Is that what you prefer? Begging?"

The red liquid swirls as his fingers tap against the side of the glass. Silver hand jewelry accentuating the veins on his hands sparkles under the low, candlelit glow of the chandelier and matches the smirk that grows on his red lips. 

"Only from those who dare to threaten my authority."

A silver, pearl-encrusted dagger lays on the floor between his golden throne at the table of gluttony and where you stand defiantly down on the concrete floor. Your wrists are bound together in front of you by a writhing strand of black shadows that spew out tiny hisses, much stronger than they look.

"I told you, I don't know where that came from. It's not mine!"

"Oh but darling," he laughs — though it's without humor, "it is."

You bare your teeth like a wild, caged animal. "I don't know a single thing! I just arrived here, someone has to be framing me, that dagger is not mine!"

Heeled boots create an echoing thud through the room that seems to enlarge and shrink at the same time. He bends down to pick up the dagger, turning it in his hands and inspecting it.

"This definitely belongs to you."

You stomp your foot. "No, it does n — "

"Because it was originally mine."

Your breath catches in your throat. Not just in response to his statement but because of the sharp point of the dagger inches away from your jugular. You may be an incorporeal existence now but fear fails to leave your instincts. Especially with a powerful entity's threats that could truly hurt you.

"Do you want a new life that bad?" he questions and for some reason he almost sounds… wistful? You're able to feel the cold steel against your chin as he taps the dull side of the dagger underneath it so you meet his searing, scarlet irises with a wide-eyed gaze. "That can't be it. There should only be one reason why you're standing before me."

"... Which is?"

"To return to your rightful place." 

You attempt to take a step back but the shadows under his control swirl around your feet, anchoring you in place as he leans in.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"To come back to me. My queen."

"What?"

"The only other rightful ruler of Limbo." He's close enough that you can smell the sweet but smokey scent emanating from him, the dagger still poised between the two of you. "Allow me to remind you, my beloved."

Shadow wisps tickle your cheeks, encouraging you to close your eyes as they wrap around you. You think you should be terrified, screaming and struggling in protest. But the caresses of darkness welcoming you have nostalgia entangled within. A strange but familiar sense of comfort has you willingly grant them access into your mind to reawaken suppressed memories of a past life.

An arranged marriage. Heavy crowns. Lovelessness. A kiss stolen under the stars. Satin silk sheets. A dagger decorated with pearls. A promise, an oath. Blood. A chained box. Death. A name.

"Junhui," you breathe out.

"My love," he affirms with a hushed whisper of your own name.

Your eyes reopen with a glow, drinking in his features with a different sense of appreciation. One that holds recognition and fondness. Utter longing. 

"How did this happen?"

He gently takes your hand, releasing your hands from the bindings and leads you up the stairs. 

"After the soldiers cut me down, I found myself here. Searching for you, for a sign. Instead I found this." The ornate chair next to the one he was sitting on holds an old, beaten-up wooden box with heavy silver chains. It lies open but empty. "The higher beings told me I would have to wait and be patient… that I would have absolutely no doubts when you finally arrived."

You take the dagger he holds out to you, the same as you did on that fateful yet tragic night. Fragmented memories piece together the events that led up to your demise. Frantically digging a hole to hide the box containing the written love notes exchanged between your lover. The dagger should've joined them but the devastating news your personal maid delivered to you was buried into your body instead of the ground. Infused to become a part of your soul.

A sob unwittingly escapes. "For how long?"

"Too long." Junhui sighs. "I lost count thousands of years ago."

"I'm so sorry — "

"Don't. You've come to me now and that's all that matters."

"Jun…"

"Welcome to my lost world," he wipes away the tears that trail down your cheeks. "I've built it all for you, my queen. No one can defy or separate us now."

It is not the paradise you envisioned in your mortal lives nor the nirvana your soul imagined it'd be sent to. But that didn't matter because you realize that what you've always wanted — who you've always needed — was standing before you. Welcoming you with an open embrace. 

"So, what happens now?"

"We must ensure that your soul is bound here… and to me so it won't move on or disappear… if that is what you want. You must make a choice."

You brush the strand of hair that escaped from his ponytail behind his ear. "What choice is there to make? I want to stay with you, to be with you. What must I do to make that happen?"

Junhui bites his lip. With a deep breath, he walks you over to where a shattered mirror sits in the corner. You try to hold back a scream and whimper instead, watching through the cracked glass as Junhui's arms wrap steadily around you — but nothing of you visible — in the reflection.

"Oh my g — "

"God can't help us now, beloved. He was never on our side to begin with." You nod pensively and Junhui continues. "Would you allow me to touch you, darling? Like before? I must bind your soul here and to do that, I will have to claim you as mine."

You turn to face him with a smile. "Aren't I already yours? Years ago, hidden under the veil of night?"

He beams back at you. "I take that as a yes, then?"

"Yes" rolls off your tongue and then Junhui's pressing his lips against yours. Running his tongue across your lips to seek permission, you chase his mouth as he walks backward until he's seated on his chair.

You fall against him, knees planting on either side of his thighs cushioned by the plushy surface. The ruffles on his blouse tickle your sudden bare skin and you pull away, looking at him in shock.

"Special privileges," he smirks devilishly, "I can manipulate the Limbo landscape quite easily so making your soul bare for me takes little effort."

"Will I be able to do the same?"

"Of course, my queen. And more." He takes your hand and places it over his chest. "But it's not like you need any powers to strip me, my dear. And I hope you'll use those kinds of powers on no one else but your king."

It's an invitation you would never refuse. The sound of tiny buttons and the clatter of the dagger hitting the floor fill the room as you rip off his shirt and slide it down his shoulders. Your hand trails down his pecs to the abs you were graced with upon your arrival, following the defined veins that disappear into his pants. He halts you when you start to slide down and you frown.

"I thought you liked people begging on their knees?"

"I do… but only in certain cases. Perhaps we can save that for another time, I'm supposed to be worshiping you, my love. Encouraging you to stay with me. Uniting our souls."

You want to tell him that you would not leave no matter what. But you know the strange workings of the afterlife and anything before, between, and after have strict rules that must be followed. 

So, you relent. Letting him take control, peppering your upper body with kisses as he runs his fingers up and down the sides of your body. Committing it all to memory once more. Though you are no different to him than you were centuries ago. 

The sting of coldness from his rings and fancy jewelry comes as a shock. Junhui feels you jolt against his hold and pauses, looking up at you from where his head is positioned between the valley of your chest. 

"Are you okay?" 

You nod, explaining the sensations, and he smiles contently; resuming his journey across the curves of your body. The soft material of his pants press against your center as you slowly begin to sink down on his thigh, submitting to the thrall of pleasure. As he tenses the thick muscle, you feel the breath of his snort when he guides your hips to move. 

Sharp teeth graze the supple skin of your breasts and you furrow your brow, fingers running across his equally razor-edged jawline as you gently push his head back. Lidded eyes gaze at you with a lust-filled yet yearning look as you inquisitively explore his mouth. 

Marveling at the same features you'd gawked at in your previous life, all motions halt as your lover dutifully lets you run your finger across his fangs. Earlier, his tongue had focused on tangling within your mouth in fear of potentially slicing you. 

But as you prick your thumb on the point of his left canine tooth, no pain and no blood comes as you are neither dead nor alive. Giggling, you press a kiss on the mole right above it and gleefully show him. 

"You can't hurt me." 

"Not yet," he winks and encourages you to move your hips again. "As long as you're nice and wet, it won't." 

"I don't think pain exists here." 

He frowns, eyes darkening. "It does. I was so very lonely. It deeply hurt and ached so much that I slowly became numb. But all of that is a distant thought, overshadowed by you in my arms and on my lap." 

You kiss his nose next. "I don't want you to feel lonely anymore. I'm here to stay with you for the rest of eternity." 

He turns you around and you gasp. What once was reflected in the empty, cracked mirror now shows a depraved image. Junhui's hands move faster, one hand moving down to spread your cunt open for you to see while the other fondles your tits. 

Leering over your shoulder, he harshly sucks on your neck before biting down lightly. You moan. Head thrown back as his fangs pierce you but once again, no pain is felt and no blood is spilled. Just pure bliss and pleasure. 

"Look at you," Junhui praises. "Look at how beautiful you are when you finally sit on this throne." 

By throne, he must mean his cock. The diamond encrusted belt is slipped off and dropped on the floor, his fingers busy as he unzips his pants. You feel his hard length slap against your back, having shifted forward to give him space to move. 

His shadows aid him, lifting you up a decent amount and playing with you a bit to stretch you out before they ease you down on his thick girth. You throw your head back against his other shoulder and he takes the opportunity to lick up the opposite side of your neck. Biting as he pleases. 

You both let out synonymous moans when he bottoms out, gasping at how fiery his gaze is that it's almost melting the glass of the mirror as he stares you head-on. 

"Your beauty shines in this abyss." 

If you could, you'd ride him into oblivion but the burning stretch of his thick cock is overwhelming enough that even your supernatural body cannot escape the plethora of pleasure surging as your hole clenches tight around it. Luckily, the shadows sweep forward at his beckon once more, tendrils wrapping around your ankles in the effort to assist your feeble movements. 

It's far from scary because they are just another part of him. Curling around your nipples, brushing tenderly at your cheek, tickling your clit… yet it feels like Junhui's hands are all over you. Even though you know he hasn't moved away from your hips as your nails dig into his forearms from the intense up and down motions, ass slapping against his thighs. 

You can feel a distinct power surge — twisting and turning as your drooling figure becomes more and more defined in the melting mirror. The Limbo is welcoming the long awaited queen into its domain, accepting the share of powers as the king ravages his beloved on the very throne he once spent decades crying upon. 

"You are mine, aren't you, my queen?"

"Yes, I am yours… my king," you huff out, surrendering to your climax with an otherworldly scream as your soul adjusts to its newfound abilities as he joins you in a blazing release deep within your cunt. 

Sweat makes your skin glisten as you lay in Junhui's arms panting. The shadows come forth once more — at your command — solidifying into an elegant black outfit. 

The king hums in approval. "No crown is needed to represent your authority, but I will give whatever gems and riches you desire." 

"I want nothing but you." 

"Isn't it funny? Alive, I could offer you nothing but now in this realm of ours — anything is possible."

You kiss his forehead, smiling extra sharply with your newly acquired fangs. "Thank you for waiting for me." 

"Thank you for coming back." Junhui whispers against your lips. "Now we have the rest of eternity to make up for what we lost."

Bound together. Forever. In Limbo.

#ez.creates #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #junhui smut #wen junhui smut #jun smut #Pls forgive me for this it was fun while it lasted istg #svt.smut

[seedofjoseph]

a garden locked up is my sister, my bride

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Relationship(s): Polyseed feat. F!Deputy

Rating: M (mature)

Words: 3700

Warning(s): displays of non-platonic affection between non-blood relatives; polyamory; traditional gender roles; more corn than a field; more crack than a backroad

Author's Note: The following fanfic is loosely tied to both canon and my own headcanon in the form of an E-rated one (link). And it has even looser ties to Valentine's Day.

Eden's Gate does not recognize any saints save for every Project member who ever took a bullet for the Father. There are as many martyrs as there are guns in Hope County, and some of them might've even been Valentines.

On the last day of summer and what could've easily been the first day of the Collapse, the Seeds reunited on their Ranch in Holland Valley for a feast. They were to eat, drink and enjoy life in the name of their dead Family members. And to celebrate the newest addition: you.

"I see yooou, girls," John threatened you with a sweet song, but not as sweet as the chocolate hearts you and Faith smuggled from his stockpile. "Don't be greedy," he followed your bare footfalls out of the kitchen, and your giggles all the up the stairs. "You're supposed to share."

"We are," you laughed, leading Faith into the master bedroom. "One box for the both of us," you came around the king-sized bed and cut the rug on your way onto the balcony.

"Oh, no," Faith feigned concern at being cornered. She even shielded herself behind you, sneaking a peak at John over your shoulder.

"Oh, yes."

He cracked up, catching his breath. However, he wasn't in a hurry to put his hands on either of you, choosing to extend his arms on either side of your only exit and entrance.

"Nowhere left to run," he leaned on his right foot. "Nowhere left to hide." Then, on his left.

"Brother," she spoke up when you couldn't stop snickering for long enough to do so yourself. "This isn't my fault," her hands slid along your arms and clasped the heart-shaped chocolate box you wore like armor over your chest. "She made me do it."

"What?" You turned, your cheek brushing up against her batting eyelashes. "I thought we had a Thelma and Louise thing going on," your indignation was audible and only drowned out by her sweet snickering. "Help me out here, Faith."

"I'll help you," his words were velvet wrapping around the two of you while both of his hands reached out. "I'll help you both. All you have to do is atone for your sin through an exercise in virtue," his tongue was dipped in honey while he put one foot in front of the other. "Charity."

"He wants it," she whispered into your ear, winding you up along with your arms. As she moved them like a marionette's, you saw them both before you, outstretched. "Let him have it, sister." And, as she pressed her chest against your back, her hands pulled at your own and the heart-shaped chocolate box opened before him. "You want a taste?"

"Want a taste?"

John was only another slow and sure step away from snatching the entire thing, but he stopped and stuttered when all three of you opened yourself to him. "What?" He narrowed his eyes and bunched up his brows. "What are you two playing at?"

"Charity," Faith blew air like a summer breeze behind your ear.

"Charity."

He didn't bite, but he did try for a taste test. With his eyebrows now raised and his eyes digging into the box, John placed his palms atop yours.

"Let him have it," she extracted her hands from underneath his and surrendered yours for direct skin-to-skin contact.

As soon as she slithered her way down your spine and over your sides, he bound your wrists in a brisk move that had the heart-shaped box falling between your fingers and shattering in chocolates all across the balcony. Her esape plan has been a success, leaving you trapped.

"Judas," you called after your partner-in-crime who was crawling away from the chaos she'd created.

"Look at what you did," John joined both of your wrists into a single grip of his. "Look at what you made me do," he lifted your arms above your head and spun you around, slamming your back against his chest as he pulled you into a crushing caress. "Now nobody gets to have a taste."

"John," you screeched, more thrilled than tortured by his manhandling. "John, stop," your voice shifted to a higher pitch, the shrill sound of it a stranger to your own ears. "I almost stepped on one," you balanced yourself on your bare feet while being dragged across the sun-kissed balcony.

What felt right at home was the hot and heavy breath at the back of your head. "I said I would help you, didn't I?" And the sensation of his strained arm muscles maneuvering your body back into the bedroom. "All that processed sugar is bad for you," he squeezed the side of your thigh he tightened his arms around, crumpling the crispt white skirt of your new Sunday dress he had scavenged Holland Valley for.

"Let her go," you heard Faith before you saw her. She stood taller than both of you, up on the bed, but chose to come down from there by landing and latching onto John's back.

"Fuck," he screamed, swiveling and stumbling with you handing off of his arms and her hanging off of his shoulders. "Fuck," he fell to his side, cushioning the both of you as your bound bodies bounced atop the mattress.

"Let us go," she threatened, untangling his now limp limbs from around your torso before binding him with his back against the sheets and his wrists in each of her small hands. "Or else."

"Fuck," John heaved, his chest moving up and down, lifting and lowering her as she straddled it. Still, while he strained to breathe with her sitting atop of him, he didn't even bother to wrestle his hands out of hers from where they wound up: over his head. "You know I can't do that, Faith."

From where you lay across the mattress, stretched out on your side next to him, you saw a man more than content to have been captured by a couple of women. Though he did make a show out of the sweet struggle of being suffocated by the strands of the perfumed hair draped over his face.

"Then we can't let you go," you laughed, looking at your sister-in-suffering who had joined forces with you once more when she dipped her head next to yours.

"Girls," he exhaled, not even bothering to move his mouth when you stole the last of his air from his lungs with a short and sweet peck. "You're going to be the death of me," he inhaled, the Bliss clinging to Faith's hair tickling his nose.

A fourth voice raised above your girlish giggling and his heavy breathing. "Ladies," it boomed and bounced off the bedroom walls. "This asshole bothering you?" It brought your attention to the door that none of you had bothered to close.

"Brother," your sister freed your other brother, flying off of him and over to Jacob Seed. "You made it," she smashed against his side.

"'Course I made it," he smiled, none of the hard lines you saw illuminated in the moonlight all those nights ago showing themselves in the afternoon sun. "It's Valentine's Day," he stroked her hair, his large, calloused hand sliding smoothly against the crown of her head. "C'mere, angel," he beckoned you. "Jonny can't hurt you while I'm around."

"Don't let Joseph hear you call it that," you hear John comment cooly from the emptied bed while you bounced to his brother's other side, warming up to his body heat.

He snorted, swinging his arm over your shoulder. "Let's wish each other Happy Holiday within earshot. Just to be safe."

"Where is Father?"

"He's wishing everyone else a Happy Holiday," Jacob looked down at Faith, rubbing calming circles into her sad, slumped shoulders. "He was closing in on the church in Fall's End the last time I radioed him."

"I thought we'd all be there for the potluck," you looked over the chocolate hearts melting out in the sun. "Is that still happening?"

"Everyone's coming over here for dinner," Jacob followed your line of sight all the way to the balcony. "Is that what you were fighting them over, Johnny? Candy?"

"I was teaching them about charity," the youngest brother defended himself, dry and parched for attention. "That candy was supposed to be passed around at the table, not hoarded."

"He thinks I'm hoardin' you," the oldest brother whispered, winding each of his arms around your middle and whisking you both off of your feet. "Here's your charity case," he huffed, hurrying towards the bed where John still lay.

All three of you landed in a heap of laughter, latching onto the fourth with greedy, grubby hands and starved smirking mouths. Now it was you and Faith on either side of John, leaving Jacob alone and above the scene, on his hunches, hollering.

"How's that for a treat, Johnny?"

"Damn it," he answered from under the adoration he was being showered with. "God damn it," he tossed his head back when your lips slipped into his collar where it was getting hot and stuffy.

"That sweet, huh?" Jacob moved off of the mattress and made a short trip to the scene of the crime to recover the surviving chocolates.

"More like blasphemous," John's chest shook under your mouth as he chuckled. "Sinful." And he licked the corner of his mouth where Faith had kissed him. "Deadly," he smirked at the sound of her squeak. He had snatched her up by the nape of her neck. Then, he tenderly tongued at the corner of her mouth, tasting the seam of it.

"Aww," she provoked him, pressing her forehead against his. "We've been too hard on you."

"Hard?" He slid his hand down your spine, slipping it under the skirt and slapping your uncovered cheek so hard your thigh trembled where you had thrown it over his obvious bulge. "I haven't been hard enough on you."

"Thought today was supposed to be about tender loving care," Jacob joined you on the bed, hicking his knee up at the foot of it. "And treats," he plucked a heart from the similarly shaped box. "Johnny, think fast," he tossed it towards him.

To everyone's surprise, including his own, John caught the treat between his teeth. In response, Jacob barked out a laugh, Faith pulled away far enough to bring her palms together and clap, and you slacked your jaw.

"Atta boy!"

"Father be praised!"

John, with his mouth full, couldn't respond. At least, not verbally. As if to cover up the crevice that was your open mouth, he gave you half of his heart to bite.

Jacob plucked another one and popped it into his own mouth. "There's that charity you were teaching 'em about," he chewed.

"It's a virtue," John licked his lips and laid down, high on the sweetness he'd been served.

You went as far as to demonstrate the lesson, by cupping Faith's cheek and carefully passing half of the chocolate chunk to her.

"Good," the older brother gave his approval, approaching the both of you with another heart to share. And it was Faith's turn to tear into it and feed you half. "Good girl," he groaned when you glazed his chocolate-covered fingers while wrapping your lips around them. "Shit," he choked out as you sucked him in.

"That sweet, huh?" The younger brother teased.

"Loving care and sweet treats," he cleared his voice, closing the now empty box with his saliva-slick fingers. "And gifts," he tossed it towards the entrance where a rucksack rested. "Fetch."

You and Faith stared at each other for no longer than a second before sprinting toward the bag of goodies. While you shoved the door hard enough for the wind to shut it, she snatched a strap and pulled it across the floor and to the foot of the bed. And under both brothers' eyes.

"Don't tell me you went shopping."

"No," he shook his head as if turning over the idea inside his skull. "Did you?"

"I did," John draped one arm over his shoulder and dropped one atop your white sleeve. "A new dress for our new sister."

"Fancy," Jacob murmured, watching you kiss his brother's knuckles in gratitude. "Musta been expensive."

"Not more expensive than Faith's," John looked over at her, and she swung her arms in the air, her new loose sleeves fluttering like wings..

"I went huntin'," Jacob said suddently, startling you.

Locking eyes with Faith again, you slowly sunk your hand into the rucksack while she silently unzipped it.

"And pickin' flowers," Jacob leaned down, taking the lead and taking out the two newspaper-wrapped boxes.

"What? What kind of flowers growing up there anyway?" John snorted while the two of you tore into the gifts. "Did you chop down a three for each?" John inquired further, now faced with two wooden boxes, blessed with the blood-red paint of Eden Gate's Cross.

"Will you wait for 'em to open the damn things or are you just gon' guess my ear off?" He raised his voice and his posture, tensing up. "A'ight," he clutched his knees, digging his jagged nail into his warn-out jeans. "Ladies?"

Silently, the two of you made a truce to break the tension, lifting up the lids at the same time. Gasping, you gathered your gifts which consisted of a rabbit foot silver pendant and the wildflowers laid to rest in raisin at the bottom of the box.

"Went huntin' on the last full moon, when this jackrabbit jumped out," he rubbed his palms against his pants as if to dry them further. "They're supposed to be lucky charms, though those feet didn't take 'im to no pot of gold," he toyed with the foot hanging from his neck, slumping over and steading his forearms on his thighs. "Made 'em myself. And the boxes. Painted 'em. Poured the raisin."

John joined him, crossing his arms atop his thighs. "You have an artist's eye," he joined their foreheads and Jacob's frown was smothered between their skins. "Runs in the family."

"He does," Faith showed off her flowers to you. "He made us still life paintings."

You traced them through the transparent surface. "They're beautiful."

"And poisonous," she added, now adorning the taxidermied charm around her neck. "It's bittersweet nightshade."

"Poetry runs in our blood," John smiled and Jacob joined him in the end. "Beautiful and deadly."

"They are." He reached down for the both of you, and you each rested your cheek in one of his cupped hands. "Like a couple of little ladies I know."

"Thank you," Faith fluttered her lashes and kissed his thumb while it traced her sweet smile.

And you took your time nuzzling into the warm nook that was the palm of his hand.

"Do you hear that?" John perked up, peering over Jacob's bowed head and out towards the balcony.

"Cavalry's here."

Faith was fast to react, running across the floor and reclining over the railing. "He's here," she jumped on her bare feet, joining in the outdoor choir. "The Father's here," she waved down at them, then waved over to you.

The Father was preoccupied with the praise of every other sibling downstairs to spot either one of you up on the second floor. It was Jacob's whistling that diverted the direction of his eyes from the driveway and focused his split attention on a singular point. And it felt like you were in the crosshairs of a firearm instead of a heated gaze.

Your heart was racing so fast, it competed with the rabbit's foot pendant you wrapped around your wrist. And it stopped altogether when the sun highlighted the slight curve in the corner of his mouth. If it weren't for your sister squeezing your hand, you might've melted down to your feet like the chocolates still scattered on the balcony.

"Joseph," Jacob exclaimed. "See you downstairs," he enunciated.

Joseph Seed answered with a big wave and a small smirk.

"C'mere, Johnny," you caught the oldest brother's words as they slipped through the cracked open bathroom door. "You chocolate all over your mouth."

"Damn it, Jake," the sound of the youngest brother sighing had you and Faith smiling silently at each other. "I'm not a fucking child."

"Oh, shit," you heard her swear for the first time, right before she grabbed a toothbrush - John's toothbrush - from the sink and furiously cleaned her chocolate-stained front teeth. "Make it fast," she passed it to you along with the paste. "Father's probably done wishing Happy Holiday by now."

"Gimmie a second," you sighed, still shaking from the earlier sighting. "Just need a second," you tremble as you thread your fingers through your hair.

"Here," she smoothed her fingers against your scalp and behind your ears. "He loves this fragrance," she stroked the spot with the scent she chemically engineered herself and had bottled especially for you in a glass vial. "He won't even notice the nervous sweat."

"Shut up," you lean back against her, laughing.

"I like it," she stared you down, over your shoulder, meeting your eyes in the mirror. "You smell like you did back when you lept off of Joseph's Word," she nuzzled the strip of skin she rubbed the Bliss-based spray into. "You were so scared," her lips latched onto your earlobe. "But it was worth it, wasn't it?" She whispered over the wet flesh and you whimpered. "Now you're one with the Father."

You remember it like a dream or a nightmare. Sister Faith had you take a leap of faith like every other Devoted, but it wasn't enough to keep on the Path. In the end, it wasn't Brother Jacob who brought you to your knees. It was Brother John who filled you with fear, soaked you in your own sweat, and make you bow before the Father.

Now, with a trembling on your lips and a thrill up your spine, you toss your head back, resting it on her shoulder, and taste sweet trepidation behind her tongue and sucked in a minty tongue.

"Your second's up," she pulled away, pulling a pained sound out of you.

"One more," you spun around, snatching her up and sitting her atop the sink.

"You're bad," she giggled while you gathered up the white lace into her lap and shoved your satin skirt-covered thighs in the sweet, slick space between hers. "Such a bad influence," she puffed, pushing her pelvis forward.

"Shut up and kiss me," you spoke into her gaping mouth, grinding down on he groin.

Your tongues had only just passed each other when reality came rapping at the bathroom door.

"Ladies," Jacob sounded faint like he'd been the one stealing breaths away. "Joseph's downstairs."

"In a minute," your sister spoke for the both of you, sliding off of the sink and smoothing down her dress skirt. In a minute, she combed through your mushed hair and cooled down your boiling blood. "Take the leap," she laced her fingers with yours and took the lead. "It'll be worth it."

John escorted you, holding the bedroom door open. "Take a good long look, Jake. That's the last we'll see of them."

"Just turn your head around, jackass," Jacob followed in your footsteps.

"You know what I mean," you heard John closing in on you and the first flight of stairs. "Daddy's home."

"Startin' to think it's you who needs to learn how to share," he lowered the volume of his voice the further down you went. "Bet that bed back there could fit five."

Faith feigned ignorance, swinging the bound arms between the two of you as she skipped her way to the sofa where Joseph Seed sat with a guitar in his lap.

"Father!" She bounced onto the bear rug and you followed, feeling the fur tickle your toes. "Look!" Turning towards you, she unfurled your fingers and thought you how to twirl.

And you mirrored her, moving counterclockwise, and pausing with your hands on each side of your skirt. "Mine has pockets, too," you slipped them inside.

"Brother John got them for us!"

Looking over her shoulder, she smiled at him and he hesitated at first, but eventually smiled back.

Like you, John picked up on the guitar pick pausing, and the strumming stopping. The Father was about to speak.

"Beautiful," his sky-blue eyes lit up behind the sun of his glasses like he already knew where to look for the 'deadly' that 'beautiful' was paired up with. Lifting the guitar off of his lap, he sat each of you on either side of him. And so, he hoisted your leg up on his thigh, while you folded the other under you and cozied up into the cushions.

"John always had an eye for the finer things in life," his voice was warm and his breath was hot as he spoke against the slope of your neck like he already picked up on the perfume.

"Runs in the family," John's smile was sincere as he came to sit at your side.

"You'd have to be blind not to know a pretty little thing when you see one," Jacob took you by your hand and showed off the silver pendant nestled in the palm of it. "Killed this one for 'em. And for good luck."

"Is that blood on your hands? Joseph focused on his thumb, the sweet stain still clinging to it.

"Chocolate," he chuckled after taste-testing it. "We shared a box full of 'em."

John smothered a laugh between your shoulder blades and Faith hid her face under Father's chin.

"I see," the Father unfurrowed his brow, relaxing his rigid muscles underneath your tentative touch. "I do hope you saved room for dessert."

"Doncha mean dinner, Joseph?"

"I mean cupcakes," his smirk returned, a hand running through your hair, tucking it behind your ear while he took another whiff.

"Oh," Faith brightened up, bouncing on his knee. "You've been baking again?"

"No," he pecked her pouting lips. "We'll be baking. All of us. As a family."

"A'ight," Jacob's joints popped as he plopped himself next to Faith. "Long as the baby doesn't go anywhere near a stove."

"The baby?" You were confused, but only until John cleared the fog you found yourself in.

"There he goes again. Jake, I'm your kid brother, not an actual kid."

"You are the man of the house," Joseph said solemnly, with only a sprinkle of sarcasm. "Thank you for hosting us this holiday, John."

"Happy Holiday," you wished him, just as you and Jacob had agreed.

"Happy Holiday, my child," he murmured into your mouth, gifting you your first kiss on the last day of summer.

And, if God is good, it would be the first day of the Collapse.

#far cry 5 #joseph seed #john seed #jacob seed #faith seed #joseph seed x deputy #john seed x deputy #jacob seed x deputy #faith seed x deputy #the deputy #deputy rook #there's so many tags #and none of them even register in the algorithm #joseph seed x reader #john seed x reader #faith seed x reader #jacob seed x reader #but I don't even know if there's a tag for this #besides 'polyseed' which I don't think counts #polyseed #fanfic #my fic

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Here an interesting scenario

Kalim went with his father for buisness to the Queendom of Roses for fabric deals for a distant relative wedding, Jamil and his father went with them as well since they are trusted servent of the Al-Asim family, to build up exsperiences when they grow older

Jamil being the ever so responsible one he looked who they meeting and it's Crewel!Reader grandfather who in picture in the profile he seems a very intimidating old wolf beastmen in their 60s, and seeing the Grandmother who is fully human it explains a lot as he is a very smart young man; and some information about how Crewel is their son and how he own his fastion company ( but more liked a separate branch from the family one, but still independent) and have a granddaughter and her small work of restoring things

When it comes to the meeting and the adults talking about buisness, both Kalim and Jamil walked around the estate seeing some things like family painting of the past, few medieval weaponry hanging on the walls and few black knights armor in display as it is part of the family

Until they hear one of the room

Both took a peak and seeing both granddaughter and grandmother and her nanny with the triplets ( the aristocats Dutchess and her kittens ) together in joy as they listen in of her coming of age and seeing what dresses and jewelry she'll wear, the grandmother made a joke that maybe she'll finally find a man to date and perhaps settle down with when she fully adult so she could make her the most beautiful wedding dress when the day comes, even the nanny say she hopes when she have her own kittens and she'll make a wonderful mother

And Crewle!reader give a heart felt words that even if she raised without a mother she happy the two closes women in her life that she could call as mothers, and hope she'll be elegant and thoughtful woman she'll be like someday

As cute as that is I have a hard time believe Crewel let alone his father would allow would allow naughty pups like them to run free

Duchess is no nanny she’s just as her name suggests

after all she’s a lady

Crewel would rather die than let Night Raven pups have free roam

And while your grandfather is aware of this he probably isn’t willing to kick out the clients’ kid

But he’ll probably send for you calling one of the triplets to lead them to where you are

“...I really appreciate you guys…even without a mom…”

It isn’t long before Kalim or one of the triplets breaks in 

Because neither one knows how to read a room properly

If Kalim thinks about it later he might be able to connect the dots

Jamil on the other hand is pocketting this for later

Restoration Crewel is more vulnerable, a lot sweeter up front

You’re hesitant about kids but it's totally up to you 

After all if she was capable of leaving you who’s to say the father might do the same

But that’s easy to ignore with the cute beast children pulling at your arms

And while you’d love your grandmother to make your dress for you, you know your father would never forgive you if he wasn’t included

“So Duchess and Crewel’s mother are the ones to befriend, noted.”

#yandere kalim x reader #yandere kalim al asim #yandere jamil viper #yandere jamil x reader #yandere jamil #Crewel daughter reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yanderexrea #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere #yanderes #yandere harem #yandere twisted wonderland #twst kalim #twst jamil

[supersaiyanjedi14]

SABEZRA WEEK: Day 5 (Oct 27): Free

*My AU: Ezra and Sabine’s next big milestone as they send an up-and-coming Jedi apprentice off to his first day of training.* 

“And you have everything packed?” 

“Yes.” 

“All the pieces of your armor?” 

“Yes.” 

“Spare ammo for your gauntlet?” 

“Yes.” 

“Extra power packs?” 

“Yes.” 

“Comlink, datapad, chargers, all our contact info?” 

“Yes.” 

“Toothbrush?” 

“Mom.” 

“Extra pairs of-” 

“Mom!” 

As he was finishing up the landing cycle, Jedi Master Ezra Bridger couldn’t help but chuckle at the antics coming from the back of the ship. It was one of the unique contrasts of the Mandalorian people that they could be extremely fussy and doting on their children despite their fearsome reputation. Mandalore the Defender had many attributes that distinguished her from the usual mold of her people, but on that front, she more than lived up to the standard. Sabine had been triple checking everything Brycan was bringing with him for the past week, as if he was going on an extended vacation in another galaxy or something. Ezra couldn’t blame her for being protective, especially given everything they had lived through and the lifestyle their boy was bound to take on. Still, Brycan was fourteen, an adult by Mandalorian standards and more than capable of being away from home for a few months at a stretch. 

“Sabine,” he called as he got out of the cockpit, “go easy on him. It's not every day you start off at a Jedi Academy. Right, buddy?” 

“Yep!” Brycan responded with a triumphant fist pump. The teenage boy was dressed in a mix of travel garb and combat gear that perfectly reflected someone raised by a Mandalorian rebel and a Bokken Jedi. A simple black flight suit, virtually indistinguishable from what most of the other students would be wearing, the only noticeable outward difference being the bright red vest draped over it. Underneath, however, one would be quick to find the sky blue Mandalorian breastplate, while the proudly displayed vambrace strapped to his left wrist spoke for itself. 

Sabine sighed and brushed a strand of her now blue hair out of the way before smiling herself. “I know, I know,” she relented. “Just want to make sure my little Bry’ika is has everything he needs.” She moved her hand up to playfully rub her son’s short black hair. Despite his earlier embarrassment, Brycan took it in stride and couldn’t help but smile. Even without his constant mentioning of the subject for the past month and the feelings he was broadcasting through the Force, Ezra could tell he was excited about this. He had received plenty of training from his parents growing up, some would say he was a full Jedi already. But being at the academy, at the heart of so much history and knowledge, and with other apprentices his own age? That was a kind of learning at the heart of the Jedi tradition, one that Ezra and most of his peers had been sadly unable to get for themselves. 

The landing ramp lowered just as Sabine ended her affectionate noogie. Brycan grabbed his duffle bag and eagerly made his way down, his parents trailing behind him. As they stepped into the Yavin jungle, the sensations of life all around them, Ezra felt the Force with a degree of intensity and fullness one could only find here. There had been darkness here for centuries, but the light was taking its hold once again, just as the Jedi were gradually returning to the galaxy. 

Ezra brought his attention back to the present when he felt Sabine’s hand clasp his own. He looked on to his eager son, briefly noting the glimpse of a silvery cylinder bouncing on his belt. He suddenly remembered something he needed to say. 

“And don’t forget,” he said, moving to catch up with Brycan, “the other students don’t have their own lightsabers yet. So don’t go parading that thing around.” 

“Don’t worry, Dad, I won’t.” Brycan assured his father. Sadly, the apparent mark of humility quickly gave way to a cocky grin. “It’s not like I’ll need it anyway. I’m already a better fighter than any of these guys.” 

“You sure about that?” 

Before anyone could register the direction of the new voice, a brown blur came barreling out of the brush, tackling Brycan to the ground. Ezra and Sabine jumped a bit, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons, but they stopped themselves when they got a better look at the assailant. 

Brycan Bridger, warrior of Clan Wren and child of two of the New Republic’s greatest heroes, was flailing on the ground as a girl no older than he had pinned him down, twisting his arm as a playful smirk graced her features. 

“Say it.” 

“No!” 

“Say it!” 

“I said no, Jaina!” 

“Dude, just say it.” a third voice chimed in as a boy with the same brown hair and eyes as the girl came out. “She’s gonna keep you there all day otherwise.” 

“You’re not helping, Jacen!” Brycan growled. 

“I don't’ know, I’d say he’s helping quite a bit.” 

“Why you little-” 

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Ezra stepped in to pull Jaina off Brycan. The young man brushed his pants off as he shot a half-hearted glare at the elder Solo twin. 

“Lucky shot.” 

“Consider this a lesson in keeping your guard up, my son.” Ezra laughed as he rubbed Brycan’s head. He then turned to the two newcomers, who were unquestionably his son’s two closest friends despite the little ambush. “And I trust the two of you will help him grow and learn from this experience?” 

Jacen and Jaina rolled their eyes. “Yes, Master Ezra.” 

Sabine laughed and walked up to the twins. “I'd say it’s good to see the two of you staying out of trouble, but that would require me to forget who your parents are.” 

The twins gave a half-hearted shrug as Brycan came over. “So, what’s going on?” he asked excitedly. “How many other kids are here?” 

“Last I checked,” said Jaina, ticking off her fingers, “About two dozen so far. Uncle Luke hasn’t said anything about how we’re being divvied up yet, but I saw him talking to one of the other Masters about room assignments.” 

“Well, what’re we waiting for?” Jacen asked. “Let’s go, we’ve got Jedi training to do!” 

Brycan’s excitement burned like a hyperdrive engine as he chased after his friends, leaving his parents standing by the ship. Looking over, Ezra saw Sabine looking on with an expression that mixed pride and sadness in equal measure. One that they had both received from Hera plenty of times over the years. He put his arm around her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

“He’s going to be fine.” he assured her. 

“I know, it’s just...” she gave a deep sigh as moisture gathered at the corner of her eyes. “How did he grow up so fast?” 

Ezra wanted to reply with a good comeback, something about how Brycan was so lucky to have grown up the way he did, afforded a luxury both of his parents had been denied. 

Instead, he held his tongue, and joined Sabine in simply looking on as their son ran off to a new chapter of his life. Brycan Wren-Bridger was on his way to becoming one of a new generation of Jedi Knights. 

#star wars #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #sabine wren #oc brycan #star wars au #sabezra #sabezraweek2023 #fanfic