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faeryarchives · 3 months

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heartslabyul with a furina-like female reader! the "regina of all waters, kindreds, peoples and laws" is deeply loved by all. under her flamboyant and imprudent facade, lies a girl holding an unbearable weight and guilt on her shoulders to save her people. note: contains major spoilers about fontaine story quests (you have been warned) !! furina - like female reader series: savanaclaw recent fics: you feel like home & octavinelle with a fischl like female reader! & i'm not jealous !! (savanaclaw x gn!reader)

-‘๑’- riddle rosehearts

"who are you people? and why are you all dressed suspiciously? no, don't come near me, i am warning you!" "calm dow- where did these water familiars came from?!" "stay back i said!"

riddle was taken aback by your sudden behavior and your ability to wield a sword as well as commanding your familiar like it's your second nature! but weapons are still not allowed on school grounds 🤬

after the incident, riddle thought he wouldn't interact with you again when somehow manage your way to the dorm and stepped in when he was about to collar his dorm mates

"i don't think it's appropriate for you to chain your subjects like prisoners, mr. riddle. that is not a proper way of to rule." "don't stand in my way, what do you know about ruling?!" "... you have no idea."

and you proved him so wrong after overhearing your conversation with your heartslabyul friends. it's not like he intended to eavesdrop but it just happened that he was passing by

"after 500 years of acting on stage - i am finally free to live as a normal human again without the need to act as a strong and more god-like version of myself. but the problem is, i don't know where to start."

riddle made it his mission to always make you feel welcomed in the heartslabyul dorm and gradually became close friends with you

who knew that the two of you are similar to each other? from ruling over a community to having tea parties and your love for sweets

"riddle, you can enjoy sweets as much as you want. you dont need to follow such suffocating rules." "...what a pleasant surprise, truly an extra slice of joy."

believe it when i say he is very fond of your salon members and even went out his way to always give them a proper greeting and send them invitations for the unbirthday parties.

it was like he is healing his inner child along with you + very comfortable to the point that he doesn't even hesitate to ask you for advice 🫡 rather than an older sister you were like his twin

-‘๑’- trey clover

it is bad to have favoritism but trey clover took the cake immediately after watching him bake the most delicious cake you ever tasted

sorry to all fontaine patissier or fontaine in general but maybe you might as well stay in this world ... kidding 🧍🏻‍♀️

out of everyone you met, trey's firs impression was the second best (kalim being first for obvious reasons) he was like your dear friend who adores tea time but more laid back verion of them

"what a rich aroma and delicate texture... i didn't expect you to be such an accomplished cook... with refined taste, as well!" "a compliment from the regina herself is such a worthy praise for someone like me." "nonsense, trey! you are the best one out there!"

with curiosity getting the best of you, you always try to help out during the unbirthday parties and learn how to cook and bake from the vice dorm leader

... after all having pasta everyday is not very healthy 😭

listens to your rambles about the novels you've read befora and suggests you some that he have on hand! at this point he might as well be your guardian angel

despite being smaller than most of the student at nrc - you shocked the whole heartslabyul group after fighting off the known bully group of seniors trying to scare some freshmen

"now go along and never show your faces to me again. capiche?" "woah, i thought you said you are not used to battling!" "mmm, i did. but it's different from my abilities, no?"

you were the opposite of trey, rather than being embarrassed, you know your strengths and weaknesses and use it to your advantage

"trey, don't tell me you are just an ordinary person, you liar. you can't fool me with your downplaying talk!"

he can't fool you with that but trey pulls some harmless pranks on you by tricking you in putting a different recipe in the pie orsomething

he learned his lesson after you really followed his instructions and became the first victim to his own prank

you always seem to pride yourself as a strong and capable woman and how despite everything you are going through you always go for it headstrong

"now look at you, getting sick. i told you not to overwork yourself right?" "mmm, sorry big brother..."

did you just say 🥺 older 🥺 brother? after that he wears that title like a cape everyday and even brags it to cater 😭

-‘๑’- cater diamond

oh cater absolutely adores you the moment he saw your outfit because it is so well made?! 🫨 not only that - you were like giving the total celebrity vibes

"you have an eye for discerning people! yes, i am once the most beloved star of my country... but that time already came to an end."

sometimes while he tags along whenever you, grim and the adeuce duo hangs out - he always had this feeling that you are staring deep into his soul 👁️👁️

as much as he puts up his usual cheerful facade to fool you, it was like arguing up to a wall and you finally pointed it out one day during your tea parties

"you know, you don't have to force yourself to eat sweets. i cooked some habanero pepper cream pasta earlier with

you might as well become his favorite underclassman 🥺

no wonder you were able to read him so well because you revealed that some how seeing him act in such way reminds him of yourself in the past

"sometimes acting for so long can make you wonder if people can really see through you or was it all fake." "but that is how it is right? how can other people know us when we don't even know ourselves?"

anyways! every now and then, cater would appear right on your doorsteps with small clothes and hats in shopping bags to give it to the salon members

it was funny to see your salon members have a new member and they treat him like their own son 😭🤍

as much as he want to tease you sometimes - he try not to over do it after seeing you let the salon trio chase after ace and grim all over the maze with threatening looks in their eyes.

"wow, mademoiselle crabaletta looks so energetic when she got to hit ace at the back of his head." "well, ace did pissed her off by playing rock paper scissors with her." "... did she win?" "i don't know, you tell me big brother cater."

... he will never let it down after owning his title as your big brother 😭 get ready to receive random gifts every now and then because this big brother cater is ready to spoil you to rotten

-‘๑’- ace trappola

having to get sprayed and hit by multiple bubbles in the face was certainly not on ace's list 😭 remind him to never play rock paper scissors with mademoiselle crabaletta ever again

he really like to be your friend genuinely 🙏 not that you mind though because ace is fun to talk too + you were able to adapt and learn about this world thanks to him, deuce and grim

but sometimes, he can be a little too reckless in roping you in trouble

"woah! (name) put mr seahorse down and let's talk about this!" "oh so you prefer my sword instead?" "it was just a harmless prank!" "then why is there an anemone on grim's head, again?!"

after you were comfortable enough to tell your story - ace thought he was actually dreaming because how did you stay sane after that 500 years?!

will ask you to help him with his studies and practicing magic + probably thought you were clueless but after years of searching every nook and nanny in your nation's library, you were like a walking dictionary

"how come you get a higher score than me in animal languages?!" "i was wondering how on teyvat did you get a lower score than me?"

omg you traitor 👩🏻‍⚖️

your number one buddy with midnight snacks + everytime he would sneak out of the dorm he always bring some sweets as a bribe to let him stay

there are times that you always fool ace by acting especially in front ofriddle when he accidentally dropped your cake in accident

despite the shenanigans between you two, he always trusts you to have his back

"(nickname) cover for me!" "alright! let the world come alive, hehe!"

whenever the salon members feel silly, they will go and chase after him and you just let them be - even they shower him with love in unexpected ways.

"recently, i've been wondering if Iife been a little too hard on myself in the past. i never got the chance to enjoy my life." "then let's go grab cater-senpai and go shopping!"

he will not let you experience such loneliness again! not when he is one of your first friend here in wonderland.

-‘๑’- deuce spade

opposite to ace, he is mademoiselle crabaletta's favorite for some reason or even the whole salon members are fond of him !

while he is more on the less troublesome side - he still make some troubles but you can see how much he was trying to not get you involve in it 😭

"deuce, you could've just told me earlier about this..." "i'm sorry, i don't want you to get involve again." "you are really a jester. we are friends! how can i not help you when you are facing problems?"

just as you listen to his problems, you were surprised that deuce is a great listener 😮 its not sarcasm !!

it first came to you during the octavinelle incident when deuce found you crying behind the ramshackle down, hugging your knees and being surrounded by your salon members, trying to calm you down

"i still couldn't do it... i do not belong in this world now i don't even have a place to stay..." "(name)..." "d-don't look at me like this! just give me a second." "no it's okay, let it out. i am so sorry for putting the pressure on you."

the sweetest guy??? ever??? he will try to include you in discussions about this world itself and wouldn't let you feel out of place

you even found him taking down notes whenever you get the chance to talk about your nation and people

"you have a dragon as a friend?!" "yea, don't let the dragon title fool you though. he is very kind but all he eats and drink is water every break time."

while ace had your back, deuce got your sides covered + knows fully how capable of being the front liner

"how dare you!?" "ah, (nickname) don't go to far!" "... remind me to never mess with her again."

remember the phantom back in the mines? you encountered one again and after it made one of your salon members disappear - the trio watch you literally annihilate the monster

seeing you all impatient and having a childlike temper made him laugh because you weren't so different from them after all

but please do not rush in battle so suddenly, you might as well give him a heart attack 😵

don't tell the others but deuce really looks up to you as an admirable person + not only you were able to endure everything for a long time, you still have the heart to forgive everyone who doubted you.

"do you know that you are really a respectable friend?" "...? oh my god, did you eat mushrooms for breakfast again?" "i'm serious!" "oh is that so? well i am proud of you. don't you know you improved a lot too?"

it's 7 am in the morning are you trying to make him cry? 🥹

having you with him during his high school life is an unexpected but wonderful experience - learning other things together + being interested in the same things? he had never felt such comfort before

deuce just hope that even though he and ace are seen as troublemakers, you won't hesitate to let your walls come down when times get rough 🫂

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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 6 months

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Please let Astarion meet Tav's family and have a younger sibling like 6 be like im gonna marry the prince points at Astarion.

Tav : Sorry, im married to the prince

NO IM GONNA MARRY THE PRINCE

That's so fucking cute kill me. But I just realized AFTER I finished it I read this wrong 😭😭 I read it as "marry" instead of "married" so whoops now it's an asking for your hand in marriage fic.

Also, I'm going to make this a weird little, unofficial, alternate reality, off shoot of this fic to explain away why Astarion can be in the sun without ascending because I am ~lazy~

Quick summary if you didn't read it, Tav serves Selune, gets a blessing for all the good work, and uses it to cure the anti-light issue of the vampirism (but not all of it). It's not a literal extension of that fic but I'm stealing my own plot explanations. That's it! Now here we go:

Astarion wasn't nervous per se. He was just... on edge. And the two-week journey it took to get here wasn't helping things, not when it gave him so much time to ruminate in his thoughts. He never expected to be in the position of "meeting the family," let alone in anticipation for asking for someone's hand in marriage.

Astarion wasn't even quite sure how his life got here. He had always fantasized that a life without Cazador would be one of selfish hedonism, not one where he would be legitimately concerned about a damn six year old sibling's first impression of him.

But then you came along, effortlessly shattering all of his grandiose plans with a batt of your eyelashes. Perhaps the entire journey of falling in love was more complicated, but it felt like it was that simple. In hindsight, he never stood a chance against you, but it was hilarious that there was a time he ever thought he did.

All of his prior dreams and fantasies felt like nothing in comparison to just being with you. It had been a year since you both saved the Sword Coast, a beautiful, fantastic year. That had ended with him somehow more in love with you now than when he first confessed. Selune's blessing had certainly helped with that he was sure. He still couldn't quite believe that you would use a god's blessing on him of all people, but gods, was he appreciative. Because being able to walk in the sun again meant that he could live the life he wanted, with no restrictions. He could be the partner you deserved, the kind that a father would happily say yes to when asking for your hand.

Which brought him back to his current dilemma. Perhaps he hadn't seen any of your family members in the time you'd been together, but he had heard plenty. You loved them all to death, especially your little sister. You wrote to them constantly, the mere sight of a letter from your parents enough to put you in a great mood for the rest of the day. He was aware that your mother was supposedly a saint, a fact that your own father had instilled in you often. He knew that they had a wonderful, loving marriage and were both higher ups in the Church of Selune. A fact that Astarion didn't particularly enjoy.

As grateful to the moon goddess as he was, he was aware that you were an expectation to the very normal belief that vampires were bad. And that marrying one was one of the stupidest things you could ever do from an average person's perspective, let alone a Selunite.

Why you hadn't done the smart thing and lied about what he was, Astarion would never know. But he did know that the thought of their rejection over his admittedly sordid history was putting him in a tailspin.

"They're going to love you," You said for the hundredth time, giving his hand a squeeze as you led him up the steps to your childhood home, "You have nothing to worry about sweetheart. I promise."

Astarion highly doubted that, but you were already knocking on the front door before he had a chance to argue. The door instantly slammed open, a beaming child already launching themselves at you before Astarion could process what was happening.

But you were more prepared them he was. You effortlessly caught them in your arms, laughing at their excited shouting, "Titi! You're late!"

So this was the famous Arabeth.

"No, I'm not!" You laughed as you settled her on your hip, "And what happened to my little girl's manners huh? You haven't even introduced yourself yet."

The child glanced over at him, like she was just realizing for the first time that someone else was standing over there. She looked a little shocked at the sight of him, staring at him with wide eyes. Wide enough for Astarion to start to wonder if something was on his face.

He gave her a little wave only for her to bury her face into your shoulder, peeking out at him with her lips pursed. Which was not the best start to the whole making his darling's family actually like him plan.

"Well, as you've probably guessed this is Arabeth. She's just a little shy," You reassured as you stepped inside, muttering a quick invitation inside under your breath. He appreciated that, he didn't need the whole house to be reminded of his... limitations.

"But she'll get over it soon enough," You continued as you called into the house, "Mom? Dad? We're here!"

And just like that they were rushing into the room, acting just as excited as your sister had been. Your mother wasted no time in smothering your face with kisses while your father swept you up into a hug. It was a rather impressive display of coordination, considering how they hadn't managed to knock you and your sister to the floor in the process. Astarion was pretty sure they were both saying something along the lines of We missed you! But it was hard to tell with all of you so tangled up in each other.

It was heartwarming to see, in all honestly. Of course such a loving person would come from an equally loving family, what else would he expect?

Though he certainly hadn't been expecting for your mother to throw her arms around him next. She brought him into a tight hug before looking him up and down, "So you're Astarion huh?"

She turned back to you, grinning ear to ear with her hands set on Astarion's shoulders, "He's so handsome! Selune help us, do you remember the last boy you brought home? He had a nose the length of my arm-"

"And that's enough of that," You said with a strained laugh, pulling your eccentric mother back a few inches, "And we've talked about the impromptu hugs. What happened to asking for permission?"

"Sorry, sorry!" She said with a wave of her hand, "Let me try again. I'm Seliras, and this is my husband-"

"Marcoul," Your father interrupted, putting his hand out for Astarion to shake, "It's been awhile since we've met a boyfriend."

"He's a little more than that," You said with a sigh as everyone exchanged pleasantries.

"We'll be the judge of that," Marcoul said with a sharp but friendly grin, the grip he had on Astarion's hand briefly tightening before he let go, "From what we've heard, you're quite the character aren't you?"

Ah, so the interrogating was starting early then. It was nothing that Astarion hadn't expected. Besides, turning up the charm was his strong suit, even when he was uncharacteristically nervous.

Astarion smiled back at him, "You've heard right. And I'm more than happy to answer any questions you might have."

"Oh gods please don't say that," You groaned, but it was too late. Your parents were already leading him to sit, rapid-fire questions coming out of their mouth.

Where are you from? How did you meet? Are you serious about our Tav? What's your religion? Where's your family? What are your plans?

But Astarion answered them all, with only mild censorship for the child's sake. The child who suddenly couldn't stop staring at him. It wasn't exactly easy to sell himself as a future husband when he was a vampiric ex-slave, but he made do.

It was an overwhelming experience to say the least, but not necessarily an unpleasant one. That was one good thing about trying to marry into a family of zealots, it was a lot easier to convince them of your virtue when you received a personal blessing from their goddess.

By the end of the night, they were all throughly appeased, enough so to get off the topic of him for a moment.

"You look a little young to have a thirty-year old child," Astarion said to your mother. He was actively trying to compliment her for obvious reasons, but he was also genuinely curious. She barely looked a day over 40.

"Oh we breed young," She said with a laugh, "We had Tav in our teenage years. Arabeth came much, much later. Our favorite little surprise. Gods, I can't think of a single person in our family who didn't have kids young. Our little Tav is the only exception to the rule."

"But maybe not for much longer, huh?" Marcoul added with a grin, yelping when you lightly smacked him over the head for the comment.

"Do not start the kid talk again!" You hissed out, cheeks red, "We've talked about this!"

Astarion couldn't help but grin at your reaction, charmed by your embarrassment. Though... the idea of the two of you having children together sure was an interesting thought.

Astarion felt a tug on his sleeve while you were distracted arguing with your parents. He turned, smiling when he saw your little sister standing there, still staring at him with wide-eyes.

She took a deep breath before blurting out, "You look like a prince. Are you?"

"Not exactly," Astarion said with a small laugh. That couldn't be further from the truth, "There's no blue blood in my veins."

She frowned, cocking her head at him like he wasn't making any sense. But then an idea obviously struck her as she excitedly asked, "But if you married a princess, then you'd become a prince too. Right?"

"I suppose?" Astarion answered with a shrug.

"So if I become a princess, and I marry you, then you'll be a prince?"

This conversation was quickly becoming out of his depth. But luckily enough for him you were swooping in to save him.

You laughed at her question, turning your attention back to the two of them, "No offense Bethy, but I'm going to be the one marrying this particular prince."

But Arabeth wasn't having it. She crossed her arms, looking at you like she was the one talking to a child, "You can't. Because if I don't marry him, he won't be a prince. So there. I have to do it."

She looked so serious, her facial expressions incredibly similar to your own. Astarion was holding back a loud laugh as you tried and failed to reason with her, "I can marry him without the royal status-"

"No! I'm marrying the prince!"

Your parents were doing a much worse job at hiding their reactions, both of them opening giggling behind their hands as you came up with a compromise.

"Okay, okay," You said with a sigh, kneeling down to look the small girl in the eye, "How about this? I marry him first. But only until you become a princess. Then he's all yours. Sound fair?"

She thought about it for a moment before nodding to herself, "Sounds fair."

Well Astarion wasn't going to get a better set-up then that. He turned to your father, his nerves coming back for a brief appearance, "I'm assuming now might be a good time to ask what I came here to ask. Though I do promise I only intending on asking for one of your children's hand in marriage."

Marcoul nodded slowly, his face unreadable as he spoke, "I mean no offense when I say this Astarion, but you aren't exactly who I imagined for my daughter."

"Dad don't-"

"Darling, let him finish," Astarion gently interrupted, his eyes still locked with your father's.

He took a deep breathe before continuing, "That said, I've never seen her so... herself with someone else before. So yes. The two of you can marry. On one condition."

"Anything," Astarion said instantly, nearly giddy at the fact that he was so close to the official yes, "Just name it."

"You have to have the wedding here," Seliras answered for him, a massive smile on her face, "No ifs, ands, or buts."

"And I get to be flower girl!" Arabeth chimed in, her past indignation completely forgotten as she climbed all over you, "And there has to be chocolate cake!"

"Oh gods, help us," You groaned, but Astarion was already nodding along. He couldn't give less than two shits where it happened or who was involved. He could scarcely believe that it was happening at all. But that was the last thing he had needed.

He already had the ring, the most amazing person he could ever fathom being with. Who actually wanted him back.

Now all he had to do was ask.

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ellastone-olsen · 19 days

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Could I request something Rhaenyra x Stark!reader smut with them being feral codependent soulmates? I love that trope. They would totally be unhinged and in love wives together plus the fire and ice parallels 😭 Like after Laenor “dies”, Rhaenyra’s goes looking for a new spouse and runs into Stark!reader and it’s just love/obsession at first sight?

My queen is cruel | Rhaenyra Targaryen

★Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem!Stark!reader

Summary: your family comes from Winterfell to the capital at the invitation of the Targaryen family. Princess Rhaenyra announced that she would choose a new spouse. Your brother was a contender from the House of Stark, but it seems to the princess that another contender from the rulers of the north is more interesting.

★Warnings: NSFW 18+, soulmates dynamic, mentions of blood and alcohol, innocent reader, virginity loss, oral, fingering

★Word count: 3.1k

★AN: omg my first House of the Dragon fic, I hope I translated some titles and names correctly. Thanks for the request, it took me so long to write this, but I love Rhaenyra so much 💕

Rhaenys's bitter, heartbreaking cry is heard in the silence of the room. The woman looks at the burnt body that just a few minutes ago was her son. “Who allowed this?! Why wasn’t anyone around?!” Corlys embraces his wife in rage and grief. That day, sadness became the main companion of the grieving parents.

No one knows that on the shore, the one who is now considered dead is running towards the boat. Laenor Velaryon sails away to disappear forever from this life in which he was imprisoned. Rhaenyra gave him a chance at happiness and Laenor will not forget this.

Rhaenyra Targaryen is officially recognized as a widow. It is expected that rumors about the death of the princess's husband began to spread like a plague, from servants to other servants, and those to their families, from there the plague was transmitted to all seven kingdoms. Some believed in the official story, others, like the grieving mother, blamed the Targaryen family for everything, they said that the princess ordered the murder, that she was tired of her husband. But for Rhaenyra it was enough to know that this was absurdity and slander.

“So what are you going to do next?” Daemon approached unnoticed. Rhaenyra didn’t look at him, her gaze was directed far out to sea. "I think I'm looking for a new spouse." Damon thought the hint was crystal clear. He thought that she still wanted him, wanted to finish what they started that night all those years ago. “Rhaenyra...” He was interrupted, “No uncle, leave it alone. Kiss me and let me go. If you do not...” A ringing silence hung between them. The phrase did not need to be continued; he already understood it.

King's Landing was filled with lords, princes and princesses from all over Westeros. The royal family invited all the noble houses, announcing that the heir to the iron throne would thus choose a new life partner.

“I don’t understand why you took me with you.” Your carriage was approaching to the King's Landing. Your parents were, as always, calm and cool, as befits the Starks, the rulers of the north. Your younger brother looked around the windows excitedly, clearly excited about his first trip outside of Winterfell. “Your mother and I think that you also need to see the capital.” Your father, as always, spoke directly and to the point. You smiled bitterly. “Only we’re here to try to marry Rob to this pompous princess.” You didn’t hide your bias towards this whole thing, which was more like an auction. “Y/N just try to say something like that about the princess in public and you will disgrace the entire House of Starks.”

For the rest of the trip you rode in silence, only occasionally fiddling with the hilt of the sword hidden in a sheath under your heavy black coat. Perhaps you had a little curiosity about the princess. What does the one who will take the iron throne look like, against whom there was so much outrage just because she was a woman. You thought that she must be strong and stubborn just like her ancestors. The same as the previously lived Visenya about whom you once read.

The carriage stopped.

“Do I have to wear this? How will I take my sword with me?” Your mother stood in the chambers that had kindly been allocated to you and watched as a maid helped you lace up a black dress with antique long sleeves. “You don't need the sword today, honey. This is a royal ball and you are not a knight in service." You looked in the mirror, and even though dresses weren't something you wore often, it didn't look bad at all for your taste. Still, the velvet in tandem with the large fur coat that you took from Winterfell looked harmonious.

“But what if something goes wrong and I’m left without a weapon?” You insisted. After so many years of training, the sword became an extension of you, and going out without it was akin to death. "The Royal Guard will protect us all." Your mother tried to be gentle and calm your worries. The woman came up behind you and put her hands on your shoulders. “For just one evening, be a princess and not a rude warrior. For me." You covered her hands. "Okay, just for you."

All arriving guests entered the huge hall in turn, after which they were seated at long tables, which were bursting with an abundance of dishes kindly offered by the royal family. “The Starks of Winterfell,” the man shouted and your family entered the hall. You followed your parents straight to the table in the center, at which the Targaryen couple was already sitting with the king and that famous Princess Rhaenyra at their head. Finally, you were close enough that you could see a woman with dazzling white hair and sharp purple eyes. Your breath caught somewhere in the depths and you couldn’t look away. It seems at this moment the ice and skepticism inside you broke, burst into a thousand pieces. You had to lower your head according to the rules of etiquette, but you couldn’t tear yourself away from contemplation. And when she finally looked at you, when your eyes met, you realized that you had problems. “Your Grace, this is our son Rob and eldest daughter Y/N.” Your father, as the head of the family, introduced his children and added, “I hope that Rob can claim the place of your husband Princess Rhaenyra.”

At these words, you remembered why you were here and a little jealousy pricked somewhere in your chest. You were almost jealous of your brother. But who are you to be jealous, because you just met. This is all becoming too strange, but so tempting. You sat down and the evening began.

Wines of different varieties continually filled the glasses of rich gentlemen, everyone laughed, joked and discussed who the heiress would choose as her husband. The Lannisters were sitting next to you and you could hear snatches of greasy jokes about how their eldest son could have Rhaenyra in all poses. Anger boiled inside you, how could this bastard say such things about this woman. “And they also say that her sons are bastards, and she is a whore.” The loud laughter of the Lannisters infuriated you even more. “Then your house is no better for having sworn allegiance to a whore.” You thought you said it quietly, but they apparently heard you.

“I didn’t hear what the pup from Winterfell was barking just now?” Everyone who was at your table fell silent and the whole room also paid attention to this. “I said what I meant.” The man was already deeply drunk and clearly in the mood for a fight. He stood up and you stood up next, you were the same height. “If you are so brave, then say out loud what you think of the princess.” Rhaenyra's purple eyes watched your quarrel carefully, it would be a lie to say that she did not look at you all evening, knowing that all the men in this room would be denied. She definitely liked your spark and wanted to see what happened next.

“I said that her sons are bastards, and she is a whore.” The man said the last word slowly, syllable by syllable, everyone present was in suspense. King Viserys took out his favorite blade. "I'll cut out your filthy tongue." As soon as he finished the phrase, a knife, prudently hidden under a fur coat, appeared in your hand and pinned Lannister’s palm to the table. He tried to get it. “There are a lot of vital veins in this part of the arm; if you try to pull it out, you will bleed to death.” The white cloaks immediately drew their swords and stood ready. Rhaenyra's entire being was hypnotized in delight by your actions and words, at that moment she chose her spouse. The entire Lannister family stood up and was ready to tear you apart.

"Get them out." For the first time that evening, Rhaenyra's voice broke the silence of the event. The bastard's face lit up with a smile. “My princess, thank you...” But before he could finish speaking, the guards twisted his hands, pulling the knife out of his palm, causing the man to let out a bitter scream. The entire Lannister family was disgracedly eliminated from the feast; there was silence for several more minutes, only whispers were heard from different sides.

"What are you doing." Your father pulled you by the arm, urging you to sit down, and glared at you with eyes full of rage. “Your mother asked you not to take weapons with you.” “She asked not to take the sword, dear father.” Rhaenyra stood up. “Today, to our great regret, unpleasant and unacceptable events occurred for the royal court.” She paused, her gaze returning to you and a smile gracing her lips. “But let’s not let these events overshadow our holiday, let’s raise our glasses and have a feast.” The crowd cheered and raised their glasses as they praised Princess Rhaenyra's wisdom and resilience. The celebration continued until late at night, you drank several glasses of wine after the incident and by the end you were decently drunk.

All evening you kept looking at Rhaenyra, your head was filled with thoughts about how beautiful and wise she is, about how wrong you were, how you regret that you didn’t want to go to the capital. But then these euphoric thoughts were darkened by the fact of her imminent marriage to one of the men of these noble houses and perhaps even to your brother.

You headed to your chambers, every now and then passing by local servants. Your legs dragged you heavily, your mind only thought about taking a warm bath and washing away inappropriate thoughts about the heiress. The heavy door opened with a slight creak, letting you into the semi-darkness of the room. You thought that you asked the servants to extinguish all the candles, but for some reason they were burning. Your gaze caught on an unfamiliar figure standing with his back to you, and the knife that had recently been in the Lannister’s bastard was again in your hand, waiting to defend yourself from intruders.

"You're a little warrior aren't you?" A velvety voice broke the silence and the stranger turned to face you. You immediately lowered the knife. “Your Grace, forgive me, I didn’t know it was you.” You immediately bent your knee in front of her. You were absolutely at a loss and the whole situation was a little confusing, why was the princess, the heir to the throne, waiting for you in your chambers in the middle of the night? “No need for formalities, please stand up.”

She walked through your chambers looking at some of your personal belongings until she found the sword. “Oh, this is your main weapon, as I understand it, you don’t to swing a knife every time of course ...” she bent down to take a closer look at the sparkling silver blade. “Such a beautiful thing, to match the owner.” Her compliment made your already red cheeks flush. “Did you want to talk about what happened, Your Grace?” you desperately wanted to change the topic.

“Did your mother ever tell you the legend of soulmates?” You were dumbfounded by her question. “Your Grace, I don’t quite understand...” She continued to walk around the room. “Don’t they really tell such stories in the north?” Her tone sounded fakely upset. “They say I know one.” “Then tell me too.”

You didn’t understand anything, Rhaenyra Targaryen came to you at night to listen to fairy tales for children? Perhaps something was put in the wine and now you were hallucinating, but it seemed like everything looked real. The woman lit the fireplace and, unbecoming for a future queen, sat down on the soft fur in front of the fire. She looked up at you, inviting you to sit next to her, you obeyed. The crackling of logs, the heat of the fire and the soft floral perfume of Rhaenyra lulled to sleep.

“My mother... told me when I was a child that there was a belief...” you cleaned the throat. “That every person has their own soulmate, but not everyone is able to find it, it’s like a person who was created by the seven gods just for you.” Rhaenyra began to unravel her tight braid; her head began to hurt unpleasantly from her hairstyle. You watched out of the corner of your eye as her snow-white strands gradually fell onto her shoulders. “And how do you understand who exactly your person is?” She encouraged you to continue. “I don’t remember exactly, but they said that when you see him or her, you will immediately understand, just the first glance or the first meeting and…boom.” "Boom?" She asked again, not quite understanding your strange wording. "Yes." You were looking at the burning logs when Rhaenyra's hand covered yours. She has already unbraided her hair. “Do you want to brush them?” Something strange was clearly happening. But who are you to refuse, you nodded and took the wooden comb brought from Winterfell from the nightstand. Hands carefully took strands of silver hair and combed them, as if they would break from the wrong movement.

“Do you believe in this legends?” You thought for a second. “I’m not sure, or rather I didn’t believe it before, but now these fairy tales don’t seem so stupid to me.” You put comb down, combing all hair perfectly. “I don’t understand why these questions are asked, Your Grace.” Your head was a complete mess due to the mixture of alcohol and adrenaline caused by the woman next to you. “Please call me Rhaenyra.” She turned to face you. “You understand everything, little warrior, don’t lie to me.” The woman moved closer and closer until she placed one hand on your shoulder. "Your Grace...Rhaenira." She leaned in so close that her lips were almost touching yours. "I want you." You looked into bright purple eyes, which shone yellow in the firelight. “Tell me the wolf of Winterfell, do you want me?” Her perfume smelled so delicious, her soft skin, white as her hair, that the dress did not hide, begged to be touched, “I...yes please, I want you.”

Rhaenyra's lips touched yours, sharing the sweetness of the recently drunk wine. One of the woman's hands grabbed the collar of your velvet dress and began to pull it down your shoulders to free your soft breasts. She carefully laid you on your back, on the soft fur, holding the back of your head. Her lips moved to her neck, then to her shoulder and then wrapped around her pink nipple. The action caused you to place your hand on her head, stroking her silver hair. The princess's hands lifted the skirt of the dress to the waist and stroked the skin of your soft thighs. "Cute little thing." She giggled and touched your lips again. The kiss was untidy, but full of tenderness and desire. Rhaenyra relieved you of underwear, her fingers slipped inside without a barrier, you were completely wet, just for her, but then she remembered. “Is this your first time?” She stopped any action, waiting in horror for an answer. "Yes, my grace." Rhaenyra buried her nose in the crook of your neck and began to kiss you, whispering, “I’m sorry, I should have asked earlier.” Your hand rested on hers that was still between your legs. “Please continue, I want this more than anything.”

And she continued, gently pounding and curling her fingers to hit that sensitive spot inside that made you see stars and whine like a pup. "Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra, oh please my grace." Your hand touched the sensitive bud for additional stimulation. “Oh fuck, fuck...I'm gonna...” “Cum for me, cum for your queen.” Her movements became faster and clearer until you came, squeezing around her long fingers, biting your hand so as not to scream from the new sensations that she was giving you. She pulled out and showed you her hand, which sparkled in the firelight from your release, and then licked every last drop, causing your eyes to darken.

When you came to your senses, you stood up, only to strip completely and push Rhaenyra towards the bed, urging you to sit on it. "Please let me return the favor." You knelt in front of her, lifting the skirt of her dress up to expose her stockinged legs. Your lips kissed every centimeter of skin, no one worshiped it like you. When your mouth reaches her pussy, you notice that her arousal has left a wet mark on the bed linen. The tongue draws a line along the entire length, collecting her arousal, and the woman moans, lowering her hand to stroke your cheek. “My little savior, tell me, would you have killed him if I had not intervened?” You kiss her palm. "Yes my grace." And you hug her sensitive bud with your lips, simultaneously pushing three fingers inside, immediately picking up a fast pace. "Oh Gods!" She moans and screams without being embarrassed to be heard, the way you stretch her drives the woman crazy. “Fuck, that’s it!” and “Yeah right there, that’s my good girl.” You fuck her, trying to please your queen as best as possible and feel how she clench around your fingers. “Fuck fuck Y/N!” She cums, for a long time, and you fuck her through orgasm until she whines from overstimulation, asking her to stop.

You move onto the bed and lie on top of her again, kissing her. “I didn’t believe in soulmates until I saw you.” She hugs you, covering your naked body. You lie there, again inhaling the aroma of her perfume and not believing in the reality of what happened. “I would like to believe that it’s true,” she replies and you think.

“Have you already chosen someone to be your spouse?” You say this quietly, in a whisper. It was at this moment that you remembered why your family came here in the first place and how you may have acted meanly towards your brother. She laughs and you don't understand. "Yes, I chose you."

You lift your head sharply, looking into those purple eyes to see if she's deceiving you. “But...what if people are against it, what will you do?”

She thought about it, she knew that there would be dissatisfied people. “Then I will personally give Syrax the command to burn to the ground anyone who questions my choice.”

#house of the dragon #rhaenyra is my queen #rhaenyra targaryen #queen rhaenyra #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #hotd rhaenyra

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emperorundying · 3 months

Text

TLT Dashboard Simulator- Pt 5

💀 drearybruh Follow

10,000 y/o lyctor gf who exclusively calls me 'lovey': Ugh they're still debating the ethics of using cavaliers as a resource to suck dry, I can't deal with this empire today.

me [heard 'suck dry cavaliers' and got so hard i got nauseous]: I think I hauve devils in me

(2,710 notes)

🫁 soulosexualll

omg guys im so sorry ive been MIA!!! the alexandrite id been talking about won custody over our baby so i had a bit of a crisis about my future on the fifth house alone and loved only by the spirits. and then of course i visit the third over vacation and get roped into a multi-week bender [have u ever snorted dried marrow? life changing] and then i was lost on the third for likeeeee four days and had to find my way back through hitchhiking and bartering with my own blood.

but i promise ill update my Joy/Patience/Duty threesome fic soon :333

#rpf #munposting #EEEEEEE GET EXCITED GUYS #joy strap time? joy strap time.... #i see ur messages in the askbox and i super appreciate them btw but i cant justify answering all of them #BUT I SEE U AND I LOVE U <33

(42 notes)

🦴 skeletal-system-bracket

SKELETAL SYSTEM BRACKET ROUND 3 GROUP A

We had two ties last round [within a margin of error of .1%!!] , so we decided it would make the most sense to make this a four-way poll. Propaganda:

Occipital Bone: do you want an unprotected cerebellum??? the infernal surface is groovy af, and all the nuchal lines are actually goated. are u seriously going to look me in the eyes and tell me the three-part bone of all time [father son and holy spirit, anyone?] can even be stepped to by some normie basic bone shit???????? cmon..... [via. @skullfuckbonegod]

Fibula: VOTE FIBULA!!!! bone with a best friend <3 Tibia already got out round 1 so its ur legal duty to stand up for its legbestie... also my hounds r named Fibula and Tibia and theyre adorbsies [via. @sodiumradiation]

Thoracic Vertibrae: twelve bones. twelve bones, one combined goal: fuck shit up, take names, keep that back backing. least commonly injured part of the spine for a reason. its built different. this shit protects ur spinal cord, provides attachments to your ribs, supports your chest and abdomen, and literally lets yr body move. objective best bones. [via. @ithinkthereforisam]

Scalpula: Scapula sweep!! Those are your angel wings. Watching your Cavs shoulder blades move under their skin while they carry a big sword is the best part of being a necro. They're also just such a good plane of bone they're perfect for breaking up into little pieces for bone adepts to store in their pockets. Also the attachment point for a bunch of muscles!!and the yummy little joint cavity… [via. @kavkisser]

#polls #tumblr polls #skeletal system #tibia #fibula #vertebrae #scalpula

(450 notes)

📷 devoutofmymind Follow

ARE YOU GUYS SERIOUS WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE EMPEROR HASN'T COMMENTED ON HIS FIRST AND SECOND'S SAINTS DISAPPEARANCES

📷 devoutofmymind Follow

For my Edenite followers this is like if gun disappeared

#ARE THEY DEAD??? #Bro r we upping the fascism factor #STAFF THAT TAG IS A JOKE. I WOULD NEVER DREAM OF INSURGENCY

12,345 notes

🫀 gorewanker Follow

I swear they're like the septum piercing havers of cavaliering 😭😭😭

🦀 xx-0ct0g0ne-xx Follow

Ah. So you're unable to handle the pressures which are expected of the average Eighth House devotee, and as such, fall back upon insecure insults. Get a life + Praying for you + L.

(923 notes)

👤 boobmonger-deactivated-2917220

holy shit tower prince announcement this is crazy. liveblog time

👤 boobmonger-deactivated-2917220

TRANSMASC AWE??????????

(3,891 notes)

🦷 bitingyoubitingyoubitingyoubitingyoux3 Follow

(14,088 notes)

☠️ is-the-emperor-undying-d34d-yet Follow

NOT YET BUT WE ALWAYS COME BACK

#the locked tomb #tlt #dashboard simulator #nona the ninth #ntn #htn #harrow the ninth #dash simulator #gtn #gideon the ninth #my post #beauposting #ianthe naberius #ianthe tridentarius #cytherea loveday #gideon nav #john gaius

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sophswritingthings · 5 months

Note

Jealous mizu, or possessive mizu please. 🥺😭🫶.

pairing: possessive/protective!mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): mizu tries to do murder again but this time is reprimanded for her attempt, swearing

a/n: oh gladly, anon- don’t have to ask me twice

word count: 445 words / 2,376 characters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you and mizu walk down the streets, looking for a certain brothel along these roads. madam kaji’s for the peculiar.

mizu’s hand is tight around your waist, as it always is. ready to spring on anyone who dare try to touch you. and you knew she would, sometimes she’d come home soaked in blood that wasn’t her own. a lot of the time, actually, now that you thought about it.

and at this point; you didn’t dare try and fight it off. plus, her touch kept you warm in the cold winter.

sliding into the brothel where your lover demanded to see the madam, you began getting..

.. looks.

the other men in the brothel, even if being tended to by other women, had their eyes on you. the sight made you uncomfortable, squeezing just a bit closer to mizu’s side.

she noticed this, while walking into the back of the brothel.

and when she noticed it.. you could see her expression devolve into pure anger.

never did she wear that expression around you; her face would always be something of soft when around you. it was the first time you’d seen such an angry expression in a while.

“.. excuse me,” her raspy voice rang throughout the brothel. “eyes up. she’s taken.”

a gentle blush devolves on your cheeks, adverting you’re gaze with the tiniest of smiles.

It’s silent. very quiet.

“I’m sure a samurai such as yourself wouldn’t mind sharing,” one voice calls out.

“sharing what? you talk about her like she’s a meal,” she scoffs, letting go of your body and strolling toward the man. you watched as she went, a bit concerned as to what she was going to do.

you see her hand go to her sword.

“mizu!” you call out, eyes narrowed, “no.”

her eyes narrow, as if your words were not going to stop her. but she sighs, giving into your wishes and walking back over to you. her arm wraps around your waist again, dragging you away from the main room.

you sit, nestled in the corner.

you laugh a little, “you can’t kill every guy that as much as looks at me, mizu.”

she raised an eyebrow, “I can’t?”

you actually couldn’t tell if she was asking genuinely or not.

“no—you can’t,” you shook your head. “that’s a lot of people.”

she scoffs playfully, “oh, it is?” she placed a little kiss on your head, “you’re too pretty not to look at, then?”

you giggle, “exactly,” you smile up at her.

she sighs, “you’re not entirely wrong.”

you rest your head on her shoulder, her arm still around your waist as you waited for the madam.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#mizu x you #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu #blue eyed samurai #x reader #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #ask #asked and answered #request #fic request

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kazutora-kurokawa · 3 months

Text

Kazutora Relationship Headcanons

♡ SFW & NSFW, Timeskip!Tora, afab!reader, oral->fem receiving, sex, fluff ♡

note: Kazutora brainrot go brrrr ✨

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

♡ He's clingy asf, big on pda too

♡ Loves when you call him Tora or say he's your tiger (he lowkey gets bricked up from it)

♡ Doesn't put your relationship out there at first because he's scared for your safety/doesn't want to put you at risk of being attacked (by Kisaki the big bad clown 🤡)

♡ Talks about you to Chifuyu 24/7 (Chifuyu is sick of your name at this point)

♡ You go with him when he visits Baji 's grave to provide emotional support (you're his emotional support human)

♡ He feels the most comfortable when he's with you

♡ Like I mentioned in my oral headcanons, he is touch and affection starved and you got him whipped

♡ You make him want to take better care of his mental health (you inspired him to go to therapy)

♡ NSFW (with a dash of fluff) ♡

♡ Loves eating you out, you could fix this man a michelin star, Gordon Ramsey level meal and he would still decide that you're the best dish

♡ For sure a switch, an absolute sub when he's really needy tho

♡ Will do literally anything you tell him to. Want him to be rougher? He's breaking the bed like that scene in the twilight saga. Want to peg him? He'll buy you a strap! Wanna have a threesome? Nah that's off limits, he wants you all to himself 😭

♡ Madly in love (obsessed) with you and sees sex as a super intimate bonding moment between you two

♡ His moans are angelic and you can't convince me otherwise

♡ Loves when you pull on his hair, he won't say anything but you can tell (his dick twitches when you do it)

♡ You were each other's first 🤭

♡ The tip is sensitive (he whimpers when he puts it in fr 😫)

♡ He damn near cried when you let him hit it raw (wrap it before you tap it guys, safe sex is hot)

♡ Likes to leave hickeys and bite marks on you, especially on your thighs while he eats you out

♡ Loves when you kiss the beauty mark under his eye and when you kiss the side of his neck where his tattoo is

♡ Would get immediately bricked if you told him you wanted to get a tattoo to match his

♡ Will absolutely fold if you call him pet names (call him your husband and you won't be leaving the bedroom for a while)

♡ Likes sloppy kisses (bonus points if you give him sloppy kisses on his dick 🤭)

♡ Likes positions where he can see your pretty face

♡ 100% a pleaser during sex, makes sure you cum before him

♡ Will fuck you when you're on your period (a little blood on the sword doesn't bother him)

♡ Last few are a bit more fluffy ♡

♡ Would definitely get a piercing or another tattoo if you asked him (the type to get your name tatted on him)

♡ He buys you pads/tampons, pain meds, and your favorite snacks when you're on your period (I headcanon him as having a good memory, so he for sure keeps track of your cycle)

♡ Gets excited when your cycle is late (he thinks you're pregnant and he lowkey really wants to start a family with you)

♡ Wanted to marry you the moment he laid eyes on you (it sounds crazy because it is)

♡ Bro is whipped real bad, pussy got him in a chokehold fr

#tokyo revengers #kazutora hanemiya #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers headcanons

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 7 months

Note

Your Mihawk has me weak on my knees so I wanted to request something for him.

S/O has scars on her body, mainly on arms. She does fight but some of them look… too precise. One time after she loses a fight she is really pissed and nervous, she goes to a place alone. There he sees her just giving herself a scar with a knife on her arm. Turns out she was taught scars are signs of losses and if she doesn't get one in battle then afterwards she needs to do it herself. That's why she's so determined to always win. She hates scars.

@patisilence tagging since I'm not sure if you'll get this since I had to save it as a draft to format everything right.

Anyway.

I DID IT I ACTUALLY FINISHED IT

I'M SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG 😭😭

And I honestly really really want to thank you. This is my first ever fic-request, for one.

And also, writing this has been an absolute emotional rollercoaster. I have kind of a personal history with self-harm and I wanted to depict it as realistically as possible. Which resulted in heavy focus on character development, which resulted in this practically turning into a novella. I'm going to split it up into a few chapters to streamline things and link them all in this post.

If I do it right, then the entire thing should already be posted when I post this, but I'm still pretty new to Tumblr so bear with me. Each chapter should be between 3k-4k words.

And ALSO ALSO I've been planning a longer Mihawk X OC fic, and I really hope you don't mind me using this concept for it? Because it honestly ties a lot of things together for me

Soooooo without further ado, here's the whole author note thing.

Your Scars Are Mine

Ch. 1

LA! Mihawk X AFAB!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Mentions of Violence, I guess that's it, I'm bad at this

⚠️ MASSIVE ASS TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ : Self-harm, Blood, Implied PTSD

Summary: In the few months that he has known you, Mihawk has noticed the scars on your arm. You've refused to talk about them and skirted around the subject successfully, but a trip to Shells Town throws everything out into the open in a way that neither of you were prepared for.

Ch. 2

Ch.3

You were hiding something.

In the few months that Mihawk had known you, he had come to learn a fair bit about you. He knew, for instance, that you had over the past few years made something of a name for yourself as a sword for hire, typically among pirate crews who required a more discreet touch.

That this reputation of yours had led the Buggy Pirates to hire you to assist in stealing a map of the Grand Line from a Marine base in Shells Town. You had failed to procure the map before it was stolen by other hands, leaving you in their debt. Buggy had sunk your sloop to prevent your escape, and you had gotten stuck working for the ridiculous crew for a brief time, remained stuck with them until the Strawhat upstarts offered you passage with them.

Mihawk knew you had traveled with them as far as Baratie, where you had crossed his own path for the first time at the bar on the ship's deck. Where you had approached him with a bargain—if he left Roronoa Zoro alive after their duel the following morning, you would serve him for a year, an errand girl to send off on whatever menial tasks the World Government assigned him.

"And why would I want a little bird flitting around after me around for an entire year?" Mihawk had asked coolly.

And yet you had made a fair point—acting as a government lapdog was growing old. He had been sent after the vice admiral's grandson, for heavens' sake, as if he had nothing better to do with his time than to handle the old fool's family disputes.

Though the surly pirate warlord wouldn't have dared to dream of admitting it at the time, you had his attention. Your offer of unquestioned devotion, your confident demeanor as you sipped a glass of whiskey and kept your eyes on his without showing an ounce of fear or intimidation. You were certainly an interesting diversion from the otherwise dull task that had been laid before him, and your certainty that he would accept your offer had irritated and intrigued him in near equal measure.

It was intrigue that won out in the end. He had left his challenger clinging to the edge of life and taken you with him on his departure. You stayed toe to toe with him in wit and banter, and that alone would have been more than enough to draw him closer to your charm. He had wanted you before two weeks were out, wanted to claim you as far more than his "errand girl," and it was easy to see from the way you effortlessly returned his subtle flirtations that you wanted the same.

And now you were lying back across his broad chest in the hammock aboard your new sloop, a book open over your chest and his hand resting over your stomach, his other tucked under his neck as he frowned thoughtfully up at the roof of the small ship's cabin, pondering over the whirlwind of events that had led up to this moment.

It had been just over two months since the pirate lord had taken you as his lover, and you had been an open book about most things. Your training under your grandmother. Your setting out on your own from a small island village to find your parents, or some clue of their disappearance. The many and varied pirate crews you had served as a hired hand.

Yet you refused to discuss your scars.

Any seafarer with a history as sordid as your own had their share of battle scars. Mihawk had a fair few of his own; one didn't become the most renowned swordsman in the world without a few losses, after all. Yet your voice turned to clear contempt when yours were mentioned, even in passing, and you tensed like a statue when his hands brushed over them. You were confident to the point of near arrogance, yet you clearly held nothing but shame and contempt for the many marks that marred your delicate skin.

Some of which appeared oddly...uniform, for having been gained in battle.

It was in part—in great measure, honestly—the mystery of you that had drawn him in to begin with, and this was just another mystery that Mihawk intended to unravel.

You closed your book abruptly, stirring him from his thoughts as he glanced down at you. He watched you gaze thoughtfully toward the ceiling for a long moment, your hand resting over his at your stomach, before you finally spoke up.

"Reading a book is just staring at a dead tree and vividly hallucinating."

You tilted your head back, grinning as his mouth turned down in a frown and his brow furrowed at your ridiculous statement. Mihawk sighed wearily, plucking the book from your hands and lightly rapping you over the forehead with it.

"No," he scolded, as you giggled softly. He sighed heavily again, dropping the book over the back of the hammock before pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Are you trying to give me a stroke?"

"No," you said, imitating his scolding tone. You stretched your arms out over your head, arching your back for a moment, before rolling over to lay across his chest and brush your lips to his. "But it's fun seeing the look on your face."

"You irritate my very soul, little one," he said, shaking his head as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"And I enjoy every second of it," you countered, grinning as you laid your forehead against his.

"I can tell."

Your grin managed to draw a small smile from him, before he lifted a hand into your hair and pulled you down into a slow, deep kiss. Your fingertips came to rest at his broad shoulders, the hammock swaying slowly in the steady ocean waves carrying the ship along. He knew as well as you did that he wasn't honestly irritated—your strange sense of humor had grown on him, as starkly as it contrasted to his dry sarcasm, and he rarely had the pleasure of meeting anyone as adept at keeping up with his own banter.

You lay your cheek at his shoulder when your lips parted, your eyes slipping shut and your contented sigh tickling against his neck.

"If the wind holds steady it will be a few hours before we make port," you said, your voice low and soft. "I suggest we don't move from here in the meantime."

"I'm not sure I've ever heard a finer suggestion."

Mihawk pulled one of your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. He pulled his hat down over his eyes to block out the sun pouring through the windows of the small cabin, tucked his hand back behind his neck again, and shifted beneath you to get comfortable as he closed his eyes. His arm remained curled around your waist, his hand slipping just beneath the hem of your shirt so his thumb could rub slow circles over your soft skin as you both drifted off toward the peaceful recess of sleep.

The first thing that struck Mihawk when he woke was that you weren't in his arms.

Every day and night for nearly two months, he had fallen asleep and woken with you against him, and the absence of your warmth jarred him instantly awake and aware. His eyes scanned around his surroundings as he sat up, taking in where he was—the small cabin of the sloop he had recently bought you as a replacement for the one Buggy's crew had sunk.

His sharp yellow eyes darted toward the door, taking in the sound of unfamiliar, muffled voices outside the cabin.

He was standing in an instant, straightening his hat and pulling Yoru onto his back as he slipped silently through the door and onto the small deck of the sloop.

There was another sloop tethered to yours.

A pair of no-name pirates holding you against the bow ny your arms, their captain pressing the barrel of his pistol to your forehead as they bickered.

"There has to be something on board."

"We could just take her. Looks like she's probably a feisty little thing."

"Still have to check the cabins. Could be—"

Mihawk cleared his throat.

The trio turned their heads in almost comedic synchrony, their jaws dropping at the mere sight of him leaning against the door of the cabin. Mihawk's eyes flickered from them to you, and you averted your eyes, clearly ashamed to be seen in such a compromising situation.

So he shifted his gaze back to the opposing pirates, his eyes flickering between each of them.

"You will remove your hands from the girl or I will gladly remove them for you," he said levelly, lifting his eyebrows.

They quickly let go of your arms, and stepped away when he moved forward to wrap a hand around your wrist and pull you to him. He curled his arm around your waist, lowering his head over yours for a moment and murmuring quietly, "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head no quickly, your jaw set at a rigid angle as you turned your gaze down to your feet, your shoulders tense. He pressed a light kiss to your temple for a long moment before lifting his gaze back to the trio that had dared board your ship, his eyes narrowing in an unspoken threat.

"Go." They remained frozen, glancing between each other. "Now."

They scrambled back over to their ship immediately, severing the ropes that were tethering it to yours. Mihawk kept his arm around you, but his eyes remained trained onto the opposing sloop as it drifted away on the wind, debating on just drawing his sword and splitting it in half on the spot.

He turned his attention back down to you when you began to pull away from him. He pulled you in close again, frowning. It wasn't at all like you to be bested by a few no-names, and it was clear that you weren't taking it very well.

"Tell me what happened," he said finally.

"I woke up," you said curtly. "Thought I'd check the charts and see how far we were from Shells Town. They were already on the deck. Seemed to think this was a small merchant vessel since there's no flag. I'd left my knives in the cabin and I was still half asleep when I came out here. By the time I registered what was going on, one of them had a pistol to my head."

You really weren't making a very good case for him to not sink their boat. He cut his eyes briefly toward the sloop before looking back down at you, your face shadowed by your hair as you stared down at the deck floor.

"Their captain started questioning me about cargo," you continued. "Told them there wasn't anything valuable on board. They were discussing taking me as compensation." You sighed heavily. "And that's when you chose to enter stage left and take approximately twenty years off the end of their lives."

He rolled his eyes the slightest bit at your quip. "I would have taken a great deal more than that had they hurt you."

"Well, they didn't," you replied, your voice still curt. Mihawk lifted an eyebrow. "And it's perhaps best not to go splitting any boats in half a stone's throw away from a naval base," you added, nodding back toward the bow of the vessel.

Mihawk gave a quick glance as well. He had been too focused on the fiasco he had just awoken to to notice that Shells Town was visible on the horizon now. It wasn't as if the Marines could do much about it if he did sink the sloop, but you were right—it would still be more of a hassle than it was worth. He sighed, shaking his head a little, and curled a hand under your chin to lift your gaze to his. You still kept your eyes averted, your jaw set. He hadn't seen you lose a fight before—apart from sparring with him while training, but that hardly counted.

You had proven to be quite the fighter when he had decided to test you. You were nowhere near his equal, but you knew precisely how to play to your strengths with your pair of daggers and your throwing knives. Your stature made you difficult to target even in single combat, your movements a graceful dance that toed the line between evasion and power.

Yet one loss—and a rather inconsequential loss, at that—and you were beating yourself up over it quite a great deal more than what constituted normalcy. Mihawk wasn't sure whether to scold you for being dramatic or attempt to comfort you.

"You were caught off guard, little one," he said after a long moment, brushing a thumb across your cheek. "There's no need to be so upset over that."

"I'm not upset, I'm annoyed," you retorted, pursing your lips a little. "Blades or no, I should have been able to take care of those idiots."

"Annoyed, then," he allowed with a small sigh. "And I've no doubt you would have had I not woke. I was simply able to handle it a bit more...subtly."

"Oh, yes, because sauntering out onto the deck with a giant sword and threatening to cut off their hands was so subtle," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you finally rolled your eyes over to his, lifting your eyebrows.

"Don't be a brat," he chided lightly. "We still have at least half an hour before we make port." Mihawk abruptly wrapped his hand around your chin and pressed his lips to yours in a brief, deep kiss that made you draw in a sharp breath. He parted just as you started to lean into it, resting his forehead against yours. He lowered his voice to an intimate murmur. "I would truly hate to have to spend it punishing you, my little bird."

You quirked an eyebrow, your lips curving in a small, coy smirk. "No you wouldn't."

He gave you a thoughtful frown and a small shrug of his shoulder. "Perhaps not." You let out a small cry of alarm when he stooped down and quickly scooped you up from the deck floor, one arm beneath your knees and his other curled around your back. "I suppose we'll just have to find out."

You chuckled lightly as he carried you to the door of the main cabin, plucking his hat off of his head and placing it on your own as you brushed your lips to his in a soft, teasing manner. Mihawk lifted his eyebrows when you nipped lightly at his bottom lip.

"You're really pushing your luck, my dear," he cautioned.

He lowered you down to the double bed in the cabin, his thumb rubbing small circles at the back of your neck. You lifted yourself onto your elbows, your lips nearly brushing his before he pulled back just far enough to stop you, lightly gripping your hair at the nape of your neck to keep you from sitting up any higher. You gave a small whine of protest, but didn't try to struggle against his grip—you and he both knew there was no point.

"Lie down." His voice remained low and intimate, but there was a subtle command in his tone, in the way his gaze burned into your own. You bit your bottom lip lightly, lowering yourself back down onto the bed fully. A soft, quivering sigh left your lips as he slowly began slipping the buttons down the front of your shirt loose. "Hands over your head. And you don't move them an inch until I tell you you can."

"Mmm..." You hummed thoughtfully, and Mihawk paused in unbuttoning your shirt as you lifted your arms from the bed, holding your hands high above you, straight up in the air. "I think my arms might end up getting tired."

Your lips pursed a little, clearly struggling to keep a straight face, and he lifted an eyebrow at you. "You're certainly in rare form today."

Mihawk wrapped his hand around both of your wrists, shoving your hands down into the plush white comforter over your head, and a couple giggles escaped you before you bit your lip again. It was honestly a bit endearing, how cheeky you were being—and all the moreso, as it appeared you were being so brazen just so he could have his fun with your punishment.

You were enticing him more and more every passing day, beyond the physical desire that had led him to claim you as his a couple months ago. It wasn't a feeling he was particularly accustomed to, nor was he quite sure what to make of it yet. He knew only that when he had seen you held captive against the bow of the boat, an emotion had flashed through him for a moment that he hadn't experienced in years.

For the briefest moment, Dracule Mihawk had felt fear.

He was not ready to contend with the connotations of that.

And he was a bit too busy at the moment, anyway. He let his forehead touch yours, his lips hovering a breath away from your own.

"You don't move your hands," he repeated, tilting his head to just barely graze his lips against your neck, drawing a small moan from your lips, "until I give you permission. Understood?"

"Yes, sir..." you sighed softly, your eyes slipping shut as he kissed down your collarbone, pushing your shirt open. His hand released your wrists and trailed down your arms, down to knead at the soft tissue of your breast through the sheer lace of your bra, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. He tugged the cups down, just a bit too hard given he felt one of them tear in his grasp, but that was a problem for later, not now.

You gasped out when he briefly pulled one of your stiff nipples into his mouth, his grip tightening slightly around your ribcage as you arched your chest toward his swirling tongue. His gaze flicked up to watch you writhe and shudder under his touch, your fingers digging into the bedsheets behind you, your hands searching for anything to keep occupied with.

"Very good," he praised, lifting a hand to brush a few strands of hair out of your eyes and brushing his lips to your jaw. "You see?" He wrapped his hand around your jaw and lightly pressed his lips to yours. "It's much better when you're a good little bird, isn't it?"

"This—doesn't feel much like a punishment," you commented, gasping softly as he circled the pad of his thumb around your nipple, lightly skimming across it once or twice.

"Yet," he corrected.

And gave you a small, devilish smirk, before lowering his head and biting down on the tender skin at the crook of your neck. Just hard enough to leave behind a small bruise, to draw a sharp cry from your lips and send a shiver through your body.

He straightened out as you heaved a sigh, standing over you. Your eyes remained glued to him while he shrugged away his long coat and tossed it back into a chair behind him, noting how your hands tightened down on the bedsheets again.

"Remember we still have a half an hour before we reach Shells Town." His fingertips curled around the waist of your shorts, the lace of your panties beneath them, and slowly inched them down your hips. "I could spend the entirety of it teasing you." Mihawk noted the movement in your throat as you swallowed in nervous anticipation, your eyes glued to his as he pulled them up the length of your legs and off, flinging them aside. "Making you beg for release but never allowing you the satisfaction."

How beautiful it was that it only took a few words to pull a blush to your cheeks and make your breath hitch. He brushed a light kiss to your calf and pushed your legs apart, rubbing his palms up your inner thighs.

"You're going to have to be on your best behavior if you want more, my sweet little bird." Trailing a single finger up your soft folds, dragging through your slick arousal and across your clit, pulling a small whimper from your lips. "Or would you rather I just torment you?"

You bit your lip, shaking your head quickly, your eyes flickering between his eyes and his fingertips trailing up. It was a struggle for him not to chuckle at you—always just cheeky enough to be amusing, but you knew the pleasure he could give you, were so desperate for it that you folded like a cheap deck of cards under his slightest touch.

Absolutely perfect.

Mihawk moved his hands up from your thighs, curling an arm under your back to lift you up and shift you further back on the bed. Your breathing was ragged with anticipation as he brushed his lips to your stomach, trailing his hands back down to your hips, his lips lower and lower, grazing slowly across the soft skin between your hip bones.

Shifting lower and dragging his tongue slowly up your slit, circling the sensitive bud at the apex, giving a quiet growl of approval as your breathy, shuddering moans filled the small cabin and your hips arched in his hands.

His gaze turned up toward your face, watching you draw closer to falling apart with every passing moment. This was only the beginning, and he still hadn't decided if he was going to give you what you wanted...but the sight of your divine, nearly naked and writhing under his touch with his hat still resting on your head made him just a little weak.

He moved from between your legs before he could get lost in the sight of you and the sweet sounds of your moans, reveling in the agonized whimper that left you as he trailed his mouth back up your stomach.

Across to your ribs, pausing at your breasts to brush his lips and his skilled tongue across your sensitive nipples.

Dragging his tongue up the column of your throat, seizing a fistful of your hair and crushing his lips to yours in a deep, possessive kiss, shoving your hip down onto the mattress to keep you from grinding against him, shifting his hand between your thighs to circle a finger around your tight entrance without pushing in. Your low moans and whines of protest were like music to his ears, your knuckles gone white from the force with which you gripped at the sheets over your head to keep your hands from wandering.

Every slow pass up and down your body brought you closer to the peak of pleasure but never quite there—and brought him closer and closer to caving in and giving it to you. He had to wonder whether you had any idea just how much of a temptation you were to him. It had been years since the pirate lord had allowed any woman to affect him quite as strongly as you had.

How much time had passed couldn't be ascertained for sure when he reached his breaking point—his mouth pressed into the crook of your neck while you moaned and begged desperately in his ear, one of his hands squeezing your breast hard enough to bruise the soft flesh while his other worked his belt buckle open and shoved his pants down his hips in a desperation that rivaled yours.

He shoved your open shirt up your shoulders and arms and flung it away; gripped one of your thighs, pushing your leg up as high as it would go, and the low growl that left his throat as he thrust into you was drowned out by your own cries of abandon. Your hips arched up from the bed to meet his, one of your arms flinging around his neck and your hooking beneath his arm to grip hard at his shoulder.

"I don't recall giving you permission to move," he breathed into your neck. He gritted his teeth as he pushed his hips forward hard, shoving yours back down into the bed as you cried out again, your slick walls tightening around his cock.

"I—I'm sorry, I can't—I can't—please—" You gasped, your head falling back as he moved in you in deep, hard thrusts, your fingernails dragging down his back. "Oh God, please—"

He lifted a hand to grasp at your hair as he crushed his lips to yours, delving his tongue into your mouth and drawing in a deep breath as you moaned desperately into the fierce kiss. The prospect of punishing you, of what the hell he had even been punishing you for was forgotten in this rush of unquenchable lust and desire, of pure carnal need for your body.

He normally hated losing control, but this was on another level entirely. There was no room to hate this, no room for anything but pure pleasure, for getting lost inside you as your walls tightened around his cock, as every muscle in his groin tensed and tightened in anticipation of impending release—

Your lips breaking away from his, your cry of abandon as your climax swept over you pulled him right over the edge with you. He pulled your hip up from the bed to slam into you as he came, gritting his teeth against a low groan, the rhythmic contractions of your tight channel milking him dry. His hips jerked toward yours with each intense wave of pleasure, fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed his lips to your neck, the two of you shuddering and tangled together over the bedsheets.

Mihawk heaved a shuddering sigh into the crook of your neck, his fingers tangled in your hair as he brushed his thumb across your temple. Maybe it was the lingering euphoria, but he didn't even think about the next words that left his mouth before he heard them himself.

"God dammit, (Y/N), I love you."

But it was impossible to deny any longer. You really were everything he had never realized he craved. No, it wasn't just the euphoria in the moment—it was that brief flash of fear earlier at the thought of you being hurt, at the thought of losing you. The utter fury at the morons who had briefly held you captive. How perfectly you balanced and complemented his desires.

He felt as much as heard you draw in a small gasp beneath him. "Y—you—wh—?"

"You heard me," Mihawk interrupted your quiet, almost cautious stammering, murmuring against your neck. He brushed his lips against one of the small, round bruises he had left on the soft skin, and said it again, quietly, "I love you."

You were quiet for a long moment, but he wasn't concerned, still trailing kisses up the side of your neck. He had seen it in your eyes before now, heard it in the softness of your voice when you lay against him, your fingers in his hair and your lips brushing his.

Several seconds passed, before you turned your head slowly and pressed your lips to his, tentatively at first, and then deepening the slow kiss with a soft sigh. He shifted onto his side, tugging you to him by your hip. Your forehead came to rest against his as your lips drifted apart, still barely a breath away, your eyes closed, your voice a quiet whisper.

"I...love you."

(Ch. 2)

#opla #one piece fanfiction #dracule mihawk #fanfic #mihawk one piece #mihawk opla #fluff #mihawk x reader #smut

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maidragoste · 1 year

Text

The Council

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra) x Aegon II Targaryen

the second part of this part3

please reblog cause i'm not showing up in tags again 😭😭

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

It's been a long time since Aemond felt at peace. But that's what he felt when he was with you and the children. Every time he saw you smile or heard one of the twins laugh he felt his heart warm and he thanked the gods for letting him live, for letting him come back to you and the children.

Reading to the twins before they fell asleep had become one of Aemond's favorite times of the day and for the children as well. There was one night when he had to go to a council meeting and the children were whimpering, sullen until his father came back and told them a story.

“Why are you so surprised? They already love you” you told him that night.

You weren't lying. The twins loved Aemond. Baelon always wanted his attention, always screaming excitedly or in extreme cases pulling his hair, and Aemon loved being in his father's arms, he always had the best naps in Aemond's arms. Sometimes you made fun of your husband because every time you told him to put Aemon in his crib he always refused with the excuse that he was afraid of waking him up.

"No, no, Baelon. Don't hurt your brother,” the prince said seriously taking his son's small fist to prevent him from hurting Aemon, who was sleeping in his arms again.

Baelon had been distracted watching his cousin Jaehaera and you making flower crowns but now that he wanted to give his dad a crown and saw him with his brother he got mad and wanted to hit Aemon. When he did not achieve his mission, what did he do? He started crying and his crying woke up his twin, who also started crying.

Just when you were lifting Baelon up to comfort him. One of your maidens appeared running, when you saw her you stood up, with some difficulty for the child you had in your arms, fearing that something had happened to Aegon, you could not bear to lose another brother.

"Princess, prince" he made the quick bow "The king requests that the council meet and wants you there too"

•••••

You and Aemond knew something bad was about to happen. They had never asked you to join the council before so whatever they were going to talk about had to do with you or Prince Aegon.

Aemond was sitting next to you, looking ready to plunge his sword into anyone who would look at you, and you couldn't stop thinking about holding his hand. But if you did, the rest would see you weak. You had to prepare to fight for your life and your brother's. You couldn't look nervous or you wouldn't be taken seriously.

"Well? What is the meeting for today?" Tyland Lannister asked breaking the silence.

"Cregan Stark" replied the king and you noticed how everyone tensed upon hearing the name of the guardian of the north. "He refuses to pledge loyalty to me," he said and handed a scroll to his mother. "And he's coming over here with his army of northerners."

"That damn idiot, Rhaenyra Targaryen is dead he has no one to fight for," said one of the men.

"I'm just going to bend the knee and swear allegiance to the true queen. Y/N Targaryen" Alicent Hightower read and you froze, you felt like all the air was suddenly gone "Give her the throne or we'll fight to get it back to her"

You didn't understand Why was Cregan Stark fighting for you? Yes, you are Rhaenyra's daughter but he didn't know you, he didn't know if you would make a better queen than Aegon. You didn't even fight in the war, you had been locked up taking care of your children while your whole family died. You didn't deserve the throne.

"You have to kill her!" one of the men said and Aemond soon had his sword pointed at the man's throat.

"Do you want to repeat that again?"

"Aemond, please," Alicent said not wanting there to be bloodshed.

"Kill him," said the king drawing everyone's attention "He can't talk like that about his future queen"

Aemond wasted no time slashing the man's throat. The table was soon covered with blood. He watched the scene satisfied but then assimilated the words of his brother.

"What do you mean future queen?" he questioned now pointing his sword at the king. You quickly got up and put your hand on his shoulder.

"Aemond lowers the sword before they accuse you of treason" you whispered.

"I'm going to marry our niece" answered the king with a smile and you felt that at any moment you could faint. The only thing you could think about was that the gods must hate you because not only are you married to the murderer of your brother and grandmother but now you were also going to marry the murderer of your mother. You still have nightmares about her being burned alive by the king's dragon.

"Aegon, you can't marry Y/n. She's already married to your brother" Alicent told him like she was talking to a little boy.

"Aegon the conqueror had two wives, I don't see why Y/n can't have two husbands," he replied.

Aegon had always thought of making you his wife. The only reason he agreed to be king was so he could marry you too. Helaena would be his wife out of duty and you out of love, you would be his Rhaenys. Of course, Aemond beat him, he married you after the last supper with his father while he was in bed with fleas. But now that didn't matter, nothing could come between you. Helaena was dead and neither his mother nor his brother could not refuse because the marriage was necessary or they would all end up dead at the hands of the northerners.

"I will not share my wife just because of one of your whims" Aemond refused angrily and the king snorted. Aegon was being nice, if he wanted he could have murdered his brother and married you but he didn't. He was willing to share you.

"It's not on a whim. It's to prevent a war," corrected Tyland. "We don't have enough forces to fight the Northlanders and I'm sure Jeyne Arryn is about to bring an army as well. The only way to get loyalty from them is if we make princess Y/n queen and the only way to do that is by marrying the king."

You didn't want to marry Aegon but after listening to Tyland you would. You wanted the war to end once and for all, and if the only way was to marry your mother's killer, you would. You couldn't keep being selfish, you weren't going to let more people die for your family. The town had already lost too many. Aegon and you had to put the war behind you and start rebuilding the kingdom, rewarding the people for all the damage they had caused.

"And what if Cregan Stark doesn't agree with that? He wants the princess on the iron throne, he doesn't want him" said Larys Strong.

"Y/n will rule as my equal. She will wear the crown that belonged to my father"

"Oh gods, all that's left is for you to let her sit on the iron throne," Alicent said.

"Jaehaerys came to sit on the throne along with Alysanne," Aegon reminded her.

You felt so confused. You did not know why Aegon was willing to give you so much power. Why didn't he do that with your mother? This all made no sense but you weren't going to question it.

"We'll talk to him," you said drawing everyone's attention. "Aegon and I will speak with Lord Stark. We will show each other how a united front and he will swear loyalty to me."

Aemond turned to look at you, feeling betrayed. Was this some kind of payback for Alys Rivers?

"Perfect. My lords, there is a wedding to organize" the king announced with a smile and left the room.

tag list: @afro-hispwriter @inmmyowndefender @justsumtuffstuff @crispmarshmallowllow @daduol @safrish @lilithskywalker @solacestyles @zverea

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kneelingshadowsalome · 4 months

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Hello! I’ve been back and forth on writing you this bc I’m nervous but eh fuck it, I have no shame. So first off, I just want to say that you, Salome, are an absolutely stunning and brilliant writer. As someone who majored in classical studies in college, I was completely blown away by Fatum Nos Iungebit. The world you built was so deeply immersive and characterization of König, in that story as well as your other headcanons, is perfect. For the past week or so, I’m going to be honest, I’ve been going through your blog because I’ve been so hungry for more and the only reason I haven’t interacted more is that 1. I don’t wanna feel like a creep and 2. I was so scared of you blocking me for ‘’spam-liking” or whatever. I can assure you that I am a real person and I’ve been enjoying everything I’ve seen. I came across one concept however, that definitely got my neurons firing and that’s the idea of belly dancer reader x könig and I have some thoughts I wanted to share with you if that’s okay. :)

So I’ve been a belly dancer for almost a decade (I actually celebrate my ten year anniversary next year!). I was part of a belly dance performance troupe at my old university and I currently dance with a studio in my new city. It’s genuinely one of the great passions of my life. I’ve performed at all kinds of venues and for all different occasions from festivals to galas to charity events to hookah bars, so I definitely have some performing experience under my belt, well as what audiences are like. So when I saw the idea of König being mesmerized by a dancer at a wedding, I went !!!

I want to add the caveat that this is based on my experience as a dancer living in the US, and while I’ve performed for SWANA audiences (which is always an amazing experience 🥰) and non-SWANA audiences, I can’t speak for what it’s like in other countries. So, in my ✨personal✨ experience as a belly dancer going on a decade, it’s pretty rare that men will approach dancers during or after a performance—especially to actively hit on her. And believe it or not, it’s because many of them are actually intimidated! I have seen the most seemingly cockiest, proudest men just stare blankly and stand back while we do our thing. If anything, it’s usually women who approach us, gushing about our performances or asking where they can take classes and stuff. Women tend to be the first ones to get up and dance with us, shower us with tips, etc. (again, very much my personal experience as someone living in the US). When it comes to more family-friendly events like weddings and stuff, we also get a lot of kids approaching and that’s always so adorable and sweet—especially when the little babies think we’re princesses. 😭

So back to König, especially Y!König. 😈 he’s at the wedding. He’s mopey. He’s picking at his plate of chicken and rice. He’s happy for his friend and his bride, but a little bitter and jealous that he’ll never get to be that happy. Then, a mejance (essentially an entrance/overture piece of music) swells over the speakers and out comes the dancer, adorned in an Irina Sheyner number (she’s an absolutely STUNNING costume designer, plsplsplsPLS look her up 😭), veil flying behind her. She does her mejance, a drum solo, and at some point…she does a sword number. The level of control she has to be able to balance the sword on her head in impressive, but König can’t help but imagine what it would be like for to dance wielding his knives in hand. Finally, dancer opens up the floor and in typical faction brings out the bride and groom to dance with her, and then most of the other guests follow. Not König though. He hangs back and watches as this beautiful dancer holds the guests in the palm of her hand. Gone is the cocky, brutal soldier, and only the shy, anxious boy remains, the one who would always be left out of games at recess and who wasn’t invited to birthday parties. König has never been the dancing type, but he can’t even bring himself to offer her a few of the banknotes or dollars or whatever currency he’s using. He just stares, and she’s completely oblivious.

A while later, he’s getting ready to leave, when he spots Dancer. Her makeup and hair still done up, but she’s now fully cloaked and awkwardly lugging her suitcase and bags full of props and other equipment across the poorly paved parking lot. König zeroes in on her and before he knows it, he’s approaching her, asking her if she needs help carrying her stuff. Dancer, surprised but this gigantic man suddenly appearing before her, flashes a winning smile at him and says he can. König easily lugs the stuff to Dancer’s car. She thanks him profusely and just like that, she drives away.

It’s only a few hours later that the obsession starts to creep in. König, who’s ordinarily not a big social media user, is now checking the feeds and stories of his friends who attended the wedding. Finally, he comes across one friend who posted a video of themself with the dancer and tagged her Instagram. König can’t click on it fast enough and suddenly, he’s greeted by dozens of images and photos of Dancer. Some are adorably mundane. He finds out that Dancer teaches classes at a studio nearby, and some of the videos consist of dancer teaching basic moves to the camera. There are other videos of her at the local hookah bar, where she performs on a regular basis. König sees one particularly video of Dancer doing a piece of floor work, that same sword balanced proudly on her head as she’s propped back on her arms, her gorgeous hips undulating toward the sky. König feels a dark wave of heat wash over him. He jokingly thinks to himself that maybe he should take up hookah. But one thing is for certain, she’s going to be his one day. He’ll just have to be sneaky about it, subtle.

He clicks the follow button on Dancer’s instagram. She has a few thousand followers. Surely she can’t notice one faceless profile, right? 😈😈😈😈😈😈

Anyway, that’s all I have for now. I know you’re taking a break from fics but if you see this I want you to know you’re an amazing writer. Lots of love! 💖💖💖💖

Ughhh and another lovely soul 😭💗 I don't know what's going on in here this week but both you and anon have really made my heart swell!

And please please please, spam liking is never frowned upon here (I don't know why anyone would block someone who's clearly not a bot for loving your stuff?!) It's such a delight if I see that someone has liked a ton of things instead of just one. It's the highest compliment and praise! ❤️🥺

And your bellydancer prompt/drabble is so mouthwatering, god. If I'm being honest, I'd read whatever you wrote for this thing in a hot minute because you have the skill and you've done the research (an actual bellydancer in my inbox?! Ok Salome try not to be a creep) and the premise is just. GAH. So good, especially with yandere König! ❤️❤️❤️

I have to reveal I wrote like 8 chapters of a story relatively close to this in the fall: Stalker!König obsessing about reader, invading her DMs on Instagram and literally stalking her. She's not a bellydancer, but damn if I didn't think about changing her into one... :) The story is on hold for now, but here is a little snippet as a thank you gift!

CW: Yandere/Stalker!König, harassing, obsessive behavior

I’m sorry, Liebling. You were too beautiful yesterday. I got carried away.

You wake up just to see that your phone is full of messages. From him, of course. He’s created another account on Instagram.

I’m just a man.

You ignore it altogether, even if there’s messages and emails from other people too. You simply go to brush your teeth, hearing how the phone buzzes on your desk.

I know it was disrespectful. I could never call my wife that. Will you forgive me?

You sigh and finish with your morning routine, but the phone buzzes again.

I sent you flowers. Did you get them?

It’s like he knows when you’re awake, because you can see the messages from your screen without having to unlock it. Even if he refreshed your conversation every minute, every second, he can’t possibly see that you’ve seen them yet.

It bugs you to no end, this feeling that he somehow knows that you’re awake. It’s like he knows your every move. It’s the most unnerving thing, and makes you think about horrible scenarios where he has broken into your house while you’re at work, to install cameras or microphones or something. You feel like you’re about to go mad if this nightmare goes on.

You go to the front door, but hesitate a while before you turn the knob.

What if it’s a trap?

What if he wants to kill you because you yelled at him last night at the pub...? What if there’s a bomb or something that goes off when you open the door, what if he aims at you with a gun from across the street and kills you on your doorstep this morning?

Just what the actual fuck does this guy even want with you...

You sigh with a broken heart and some broken nerves, deciding it’s as good a way to go as any. You turn the knob and open the door, only to find the usual porch, and a large bouquet of dark red roses planted there.

More ice sinks into your stomach as you witness the evidence of him knowing where you live. But the fact that he chose to send red roses… Ugh, this guy is so old-fashioned and so unimpressive that it’s somewhat a dull surprise to actually see flowers on that porch.

Who buys red roses these days?

Couldn’t he have picked peonies or something, something to go with your other decor… Red roses are so eighties, so funeral-like, so boring.

You sigh and go and take the flowers to the trash. Then you walk back to your house, make sure the door is locked tight, and go back to your phone to type a message.

Did you see that?

The answer arrives immediately.

What? ❤️

I threw your flowers in the trash.

There’s bit of a pause after that. Your wannabe boyfriend clearly hasn’t got his eye on you at every given moment. That’s a bit of a surprise, almost a disappointment, actually. But only if you were any more crazy.

The reply comes after about 30 seconds, after a series of Typing… bumping up and down on the screen.

I’m sad.

You get some satisfaction from that, but the first reaction is a tiny, tiny dagger to the heart. You sigh – you do nothing but sigh these days – not only because of his message, but also because you can’t seriously be having a moment of compassion for your stalker, for god's sake.

You make me sad, Liebling 💔 Are you still angry with me?

You throw the phone away and go to make yourself some breakfast, only to stop and turn when you hear the phone buzz again.

I’ll send you more flowers.

Jesus…

You unlock the screen in a frenzy and type a reply in mere seconds.

Don’t bother. I’ll throw them in the bin too.

Typing…

You have to keep them at some point. Trash bins get full so soon.

STOP HARASSING ME.

You throw the phone away for good this time, and don’t come back to it for another hour. You eat your breakfast with squirming insides and a rattled heart, waiting for someone to come bring you flowers at any given moment.

But no one ever comes.

You check your phone before going to work, but there’s nothing from him there. You go and block his new profile, unsurprised to see that there are no pictures this time, not even a profile picture (well, there is one, but it’s only a black circle), just in case. You don’t know why you didn’t block him in the first place.

There’s a radio silence for a few days. You spend them at the edge of your seat, with lots of trouble sleeping, but soon start to ease into the fact that maybe he finally had enough. Maybe you were not as interesting or attractive as he thought when he met you in person…

Wait, what?

Gosh, you can’t be this desperate... You simply can’t. This has to end.

You don’t talk about him in therapy, mainly to convince yourself that you’re not thinking about him at all. You’re not missing him harassing and stalking you, and you’re not disappointed that he didn’t send you enough flowers to fill your entire bin.

You know you should address this: this crazy need to be something groundbreaking to someone. To want someone to be this obsessed with you, no matter how sick that someone was. You know you would have gone to the police if your stalker was the sleazy, weak-wristed man from the pub. You would’ve packed your bags and moved houses already, changed your name and closed your social media accounts, quit everything if your stalker was small and ugly and weak.

But now that you know he’s relatively good-looking, does something dangerous and has a lot of money, and looks like he could fuck and fight half the city by himself, you’re not in that much of a hurry to go to the authorities.

You’re even a bit sad that your stalker hasn’t given you any fevered attention these past few days... He hasn’t even asked you how you’ve been.

No one has asked you how you’ve been: no one ever does. You have to wade through this life all by yourself: depressed and anxious and crazy. Lonely… And horny.

Gods, you just want someone to hold you at night… Someone strong, and big, someone who would pay a few bills for you, take care of you and give you a round of good sex…

Your phone buzzes from time to time, but there’s no message from him. One night before going to sleep, relatively early, so early that it could be called the bedtime for old spinsters, you break down and cry a little. It’s not a wail: only a soft little sob, a few sniffles and a couple of tears until your nose gets clogged and the pillow is wet.

Your phone buzzes, and you reach for it, feeling so, so pathetic when you hope it would be him.

And the message is from him.

You’re the most beautiful woman on this earth. I know I fucked up. I’m just a horny dog and I don’t deserve you.

You sniffle and rise to sit, your whole system fully awake now. Oh god... You’re so fucked.

The message makes you feel incredibly good and sweet, almost giddy. It feels like he’s kneeled right there in front of you, like a knight who has misbehaved in the throes of his lust. You know it’s ridiculous, but you start to smile a little, and the tears dry on their own. The merry feeling is followed by righteous rage, a little fit, because he’s made you wait for days, he’s tortured you in every way possible, and he does absolutely nothing right.

You unlock the screen and start to type, not thinking it through at all before hitting send.

That’s right.

Fuck… Shit. That was a mistake. No, a huge error.

Why did you have to send that? Stooping to his level, sending stupid things like that…

You put the phone away quickly, then reach for it again to delete what you just send. But it’s too late.

I can be a good dog if you forgive me.

The message is waiting for you already, and when you don’t reply, the oppressive, ominous Typing… hits on the screen once more. God, how could you be so stupid…

I’ll kill anyone you need me to kill. I'll give you money, whatever you need. A new kitchen so you can cook me something nice? I’ll be a good dog, I promise.

What did you even expect?

Everything always blows up when you give him attention: any dumb person knows better than to give this hungry dog a bone. You’re just too fond of digging your own grave, it seems.

There’s no end to the messages: this guy starts typing a new one every time he has sent the last.

I’ll fuck you like a good dog too….

You lean your forehead to your palm, trying to figure out a way to stop this.

And then–

Fuck, now I’m hard

You take a quick breath of air and put the phone away.

Please don’t send a dick pic, please don’t send a dick pic…

The phone buzzes.

Look how hard you make me

There’s a picture attached, but you can’t see it when the screen is locked.

This is what I have to live with, day and night…

Message after message, your phone buzzes, and you check them quickly from your screen, swearing to yourself that you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of opening the conversation and checking the image he sent you. You know perfectly well what you will find if you do that.

But after only a minute or two, you unlock the phone, and open the conversation with your heart ramming in your chest.

Just one quick look...

#upcoming works #my wips #cw: stalking #tw: stalking #yandere könig

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yaeggravate · 3 months

Note

Hi!!!! I'm not officially back yet (house got flooded lmao) but like 2 things

1. I was recently reminded of the Kaeya line "You're not bad with that wind glider. Your gliding style seems familiar..." (which I finally found the source for and it's when you talk to him again in Jean's office before starting the storm terror trials) which had me thinking if it was in reference to the abyss twin

We know both twins had wings (not gliders) before their fall so I guess it's less questioning if his info on them is actually second hand (him telling us our twin is the prince/princess of the abyss) and more if he's seen murals depicting a blonde traveler with wings since we know there's quite a few images of our twin out there and connected the dots and if maybe the ones he's seen deals more with his own prophecy (basically this is just to add fuel to Kaeya remembering more of his past than he lets on)

2. Hey you ready for some more crack theory 👀 did you miss absolute unhinged stretched thin joke theories? 👀👀

Cause I was thinking of Kaeya's pants again and then I thought

What if the boot and pant design are that of the same image and not separate like I thought? I was gonna look into stories where some prince threw a sword to explain the two dashes above it but first had to identify the sword and to me it reminds my Italian ass of a Cinquedea short sword which was a fancy lil thing (was popular in general but decorated was more of an art piece for high nobility) and one such famous person to wear it was Cesare Borgia who (moving past him being an illegitimate son) was said to be the major inspiration for "The Prince" by Niccolò Machiavelli which wiki says is a book about justifying immoral acts for political glory (loosely applying it to Kaeya's means to an end style his fellow knights know him for) and "More importantly, and less traditionally, he distinguishes new princedoms from established hereditary princedoms." 🤔🤔🤔🤔

Also it's used in media like apparently Elden Ring where the description does seem like a blade that suits his fight style (quick step, combo, .... bestial incantations)

Hope you're doing well!!

oohhh i was also thinking about that line, at first i thought he was referring to amber teaching the traveler… but that doesn't make any sense since as you said, the travelers had wings or wing contraptions, meaning they already know how to fly and already have their own style. so kaeya must've seen the abyss sibling in action somewhere, somehow 👀 OR the travelers taught someone how to fly like them once and kaeya is familiar with that person

i do miss the joke theories!! you're talking about the weird snake heads right 😭 i still can't unsee it, and i think the two dashes could be a forked tongue because snake, and i also remembered where i'd seen something similar before: on the heads of enkanomiya snake statues 😮‍💨.

but sword is a new interpretation lol hmm yeah i guess he could be pointing it towards the sky like some harbinger of a new dawn. "and i shall dub this new princedom khaenri'ah.....2!"

#.txt #hi thank you im doing well though im currently spiralling over kaeya/prinzessin/tsaritsa connections #hope your home gets unflooded soon !!

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e-m-ma-lmfao · 6 months

Note

HII im a huge fan of ur writing and ur one of the few final fantasy writers on here thats active 😭😭 i was hoping i could request some zack fair fluff? like before the events of crisis core, maybe he accidentally gets himself sick during work and angeal knows he'll just keep showing up for work bc he wants the promotion to first class so bad, so he gets zacks childhood bestfriend (reader) to go keep an eye on him and make sure he actually rests lol. zack keeps insisting hes ok but reader is having none of it and takes care of him, which eventually leads to a confession bc zack doesnt understand why reader cares so much and it just leads to everything coming out. i hope that made sense lol this is my first request :) dont feel pressured to do this of course!!!

Since We Were Kids

pairing : zack fair x (female) reader

summary : zack is determined to reach first class. so much so that he will push through one of the most debilitating cold's he's ever had. angeal attempts to get him home, calling in zacks childhood best friend for help.

“Angeal! Come on! You know how important this is to me..” Zack lets out a pitiful whine, attempting to persuade his superior, before his whine turns into a horrific coughing fit. He doesn’t have to look up now that Angeal’s face has made no changes, he is stoic and his decision is final, Zack will not be staying for work this week.

“You can take a week off.. Besides you're of no use to anybody with the state you're in. Go home, get some rest.”

“Fine..”

“I mean it Zack..”

“Yeah..yeah..i heard ya.” Zack crosses his arms, heavy sigh passing through his lips, eyebrows furrowing as he walks away from where Angeal stands. He was barely sick..a little cough wasn’t gonna hold him back from becoming a first class SOLDIER.

Zack barely lasts 20 minutes away from his training before his sword is back in his hands. His constant coughing fits are feeling him with annoyance but he powers through them to continue swinging away with the chunk of metal in his hands.

But why was he so tired? He usually had so much energy. Why was his sword so hard to carry? It never had been before..

And why did it feel like someone's hand was on his shoulder? “Zack!”

He jumps away when there is suddenly shouting coming from beside him, his head pounding in a way that wasn't noticeable until this moment, “Angeal! Hey pal..what’re you..uh..doing here?”

“What’re you doing here? I told you to go home.”

“I can’t go home, this is too important, I’m not even that sick..” Even Zack’s faith in the statement is beginning to falter, especially when his eyes become blurry from the dizziness pooling at the front of his head.

“Go home.”

“No way!” Zack expects Angeal to disagree again but he doesn’t, he actually doesn't say anything, he just walks away. It’s so out of character that Zack debates just listening to him and leaving so he doesn’t get demoted, but he decides against it and continues to practice while sweat pools on his skin.

It doesn’t take long for Angeal to return, Zack isn't worried when he hears his heavy footsteps from down the hallway, but he is unaware of the other pair of feet following close behind.

At this point, Zack is just staying for spite, his body is exhausted and he is barely swinging his sword, and his coughing fits are becoming more frequent to the point where he has to stop moving to take deep breaths.

“Zack. Enough is enough. Your friend can take you home now.”

“Huh?” Zack turns and almost starts coughing again, but only because the breath hitches in his throat, you shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t be seeing him like this. It’s pitiful, his inability to stay strong for training is embarrassing, and your gaze full of pity isn;t helping in the way it usually does.

“She’s taking you home.” Zack opens his mouth to argue once more but Angeal has had enough, “No arguing. My decision is final, if I see you here again before I say you can return I will demote you myself, good luck reaching first class then..”

Zack looks defeated but he closes his mouth, and drops his sword with a loud clang, before trudging towards your side with his arms crossed tightly. His mannerisms make a giggle slip out of you, he looks like a child, but you quickly mask it as a cough when he shoots you a serious glare. Also reminiscent of a child but if you laughed again he might punch you.

He isn’t happy about having to leave, especially being escorted out by a lady half his size, but he doesn’t make any complaints when you intertwine your arm in his to keep him stable.

“I’m fine, y’know. I’m only going home because Angeal made me.” You nod along with him as he talks, hiding the disbelief running through your head. God was this kid stubborn, but it made you happy to know that his training hadn't changed the way he was when you were kids.

“Zack, you need to rest..”

“I need to reach first class.”

“How do you expect to do that if you can’t even hold your sword up, dork.” His face scrunches up, but to your surprise he doesn’t pull his body away, he actually does the opposite and pulls your arm closer to his body. He’s using you to hold up a large amount of his body weight, but you allow him as long as he needs.

When you finally reach Zack’s home, it takes more effort to get him into bed then you’d care to admit, he truly acts like a child insisting that he ‘doesn’t need to get any sleep because he feels perfectly fine’ followed by a coughing fit and him having to sit down because he feels dizzy. You promise him the soup that he likes if he gets into bed, to which he begrudgingly agrees to.

After practically forcing food down his throat, he finally allows himself to be tired and his head falls back onto the pillows. You place a cold cloth on his forehead, after feeling it with your own hands and deciding that his fever might only be worsening. How’d he keep training while being this sick?

You watch as he dozes off, you can tell he is trying to stay awake so he doesn’t fully admit that he is sick, but his body is taking over. He finally looks at peace, even though his hair is sticking to his forehead and his breathing is heavy, at least he’s getting some rest.

You plan on leaving, really you do, but you get so caught up in the image of him sleeping that you find your own eyes falling closed, head resting by his side against the bed.

When your eyes open again it’s dark outside, you can’t tell how long you’ve been sitting with him but from the darkness pouring into the room, it’s longer then you meant for. You worry for a moment, worry that you’ve overstayed your welcome and that Zack got up hours ago to sleep away from you, but when you turn the lamp on beside his bed you find him in the same spot you’d left him.

You’re greedy with how you look at him, you miss being so close to him. The proximity makes you realize how much you’ve missed him since he started his training, you hardly see him. And you wish the circumstances for finally seeing him again weren't because he was sick, and rather because he actually wanted to see you. But you’d take any time you could get with your best friend.

He stirs suddenly and you let your hand fall on top of his, tangling your fingers in his, as a way to bring him some comfort in his sleep. His skin is warm and clammy, heating up your hands, it should be gross but the feeling of his hand in yours fills your stomach with a flurry of butterflies.

Slowly, his eyes flutter open and you can tell he is dazed, the way he scans the room to gather his surroundings before landing on you once more confirms your thoughts.

“Y/n?” Zack’s voice is hoarse, causing him to clear his throat before he continues talking, “What’re you still doing here? How long have you been here?”

For a minute your heart pumps inside your chest faster than before, nervousness building in your stomach, “I’m sorry..I fell asleep a couple..hours ago I think. I didn’t want to leave right away in case you woke up again but I never meant to fall asleep.”

“Why’re you apologizing..” His fingers, which you had forgotten were tangled in your own, tense against your skin and tighten their grip on your hand.

“Sorry..”

Your second apology causes him to let out a laugh. A laugh that immediately has him sitting up because he coughs so hard his lungs hurt, and he squeezes your hand tighter in his lap while he tries to catch a breath.

When he finally catches a break, taking deep breaths while your hand slides up and down his back, he looks at you pitifully, “You’re gonna get sick..go home.”

“You're crazy if you think I'm going home. I’m not leaving, who’s gonna take care of you?”

“I can take care of myself, you know..”

“This is news to me.” You raise an eyebrow at him, to which he responds by sticking his tongue out tiredly. He can’t even retort like he usually does. He doesn't have the energy to argue and tell you to leave so you don’t get sick, Zack isn’t even sure he wants you to leave anymore.

“You don’t have to stay..”

“I want to, Zack. I care about you.” You can’t tell if his cheeks were already flushed or if they suddenly became red as you spoke to him, but either way you were sure your face was mirroring his.

He falls back onto the pillows, asking you quietly if you'll get him some water and another blanket before he gets the chills, and you happily oblige. Even while he’s sick, he is able to feel content and you’re happy to be the reason.

Zack's fingers find your hand again, squeezing gently as you sit on the chair beside him, “..Training is kicking my ass.”

“Yeah..but I’m sure it’ll be all worth it eventually,” You try not to let his spirits get down especially while he is in such a tired state, his training put on pause because of his sickness, and you ponder telling him more, “I miss you, you know..a lot.”

A small smile appears on his face, eyes puffy and bags under his eyes, and he looks towards you, “Yeah?”

You can only nod, embarrassed by his lack of affirmation that he has felt the same over the months he’s been training.

“I missed you too..” And the embarrassment flees from your body instantaneously, while his thumb rubs over the top of your knuckles.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, him playing with your knuckles as he tries to hold back the aggressive coughs that threaten to leave his mouth. His head is pounding, and he should feel like shit, but he truly can’t bring himself to when you're looking into his eyes all concerned and you’re letting him play with your hands with no complaints.

“Why’d you stay?” His voice startles you, and you try to pretend that you weren't staring at him and admiring every detail of his face.

“I already told you..” You roll your eyes, letting out a huff before leaning on the palm of your hand, in all honesty you were ready to doze off while Zack looked around your hands and face.

“No..no..why’d you stick around?” His question confuses you and you have to think about what he might mean and then it clicks. You hadn’t realized that he might be aware of how much time his training takes up. It hadn’t occurred to you that Zack could focus on anything but becoming first class.

He’d been neglecting your friendship, but when Angeal rang and asked you to pick Zack up you agreed without hesitation, you forgot instantly about how angry his schedule made you.

You’re not sure how to answer him. You could tell him the truth, that you had been madly in love with your black haired friend since you were children.

Or you could continue to lie, and claim that you had only stayed around because of your long lasting friendship that had absolutely no underlying romantic feelings that neither one of you could talk about.

“C’mon Zack..”

He stares into your eyes, right through you. He knows, he already knows, you don’t have to say anything to him. As he looks at you, he's pleading with you to admit it to him and it makes your stomach crawl with nervousness.

“Y’know I’d do anything for you..been like that since we were kids.” His eyebrows furrow at your attempt to dodge an admission that you hadn’t been prepared for an hour ago, you still weren't ready to admit to him that you were in love with him.

“Y/n..do you love me?”

Again silence fills the room and you’re unsure what to say to the expectant boy. You think, for a second, that he's joking. But his eyes are filled with such sincerity and genuine interest. He wants to know, and he doesn't seem to care if his question comes off bluntly.

When you don’t immediately respond he continues in your place, “Because I think I’m in love with you and I know I’d do anything for you. And I think you feel the same way. I can’t think of any other reason why you wouldn't ignore Angeal’s call, and tell me to deal with this by myself. I know I haven't been around like I should be. But you’re here anyway..”

“Zack please..of course I do. Been like that since we were kids,” You smile softly, repeating yourself and look down at your entangled hands.

He doesn’t let that allow that for very long before he is grabbing your chin to turn your head to face him once more, “I’m not gonna kiss you, because I don't want you getting sick. But I promise you, as soon as this sickness is gone I’m gonna be all over you..”

Even though his words, words you would've never expected to hear when you dragged him into his room just hours earlier, send a nervous shiver down your body you still find a way to tease him, “Careful Zack. Get too excited and your lungs might act up again.”

“Can I ask you to stay the night?”

How could you ever say no.

“Of course, Zack, anything for my first class SOLDIER.”

#zack fair #zack fair x reader #ff7 #crisis core #x reader #oneshot #drabble #female reader #final fantasy vii #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #zack ffvii #fem reader #final fantasy x reader

153 notes · View notes

c0smoshit · 7 months

Note

Hello angel, here's my silly little angsty prompt:

"Cloud gets home after a mission. He's exhausted, but reader is happy to see him noneless. She knows he isn't a touch person, but she finds fun into teasing him a little, hoping it would make his day better... However, she senses that something is of; and Cloud, unsure if it's a mako flare-up or something else, prefers to let it go. Later that night, he's surprised (yet shattered) when his mom visits him, telling her son she is happy he found "the one" and how proud she is of her son.. When reader awakes to see a puzzled Cloud, she wonders what's the right move to make, only to follow her instinct."

Enjoy wrecking me 🤍

The one ミ★

⋆ ࣪. ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 ≫ Cloud/fem!reader

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ≫ angst!, minor spoilers, past trauma, not proofread!

⋆ ࣪. 𝔸/ℕ ≫ reqs are closed bc I'm going to be busy next week and I wanna write some stuff by my own too so yeah, sorry 😭

⋆ ࣪. 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥 ≫ 2.236 ( so many short fics omg )

It started off with your voice.

"Hey"

And then your hand would find his own, bringing him into your little world.

But as the hours passed by, you noticed that something was off, really off.

Maybe it was how lifeless his eyes seemed to be under your cold lighting, despite the beautiful contrast of mako green and natural blue.

Your hands helped him get his sword off him, your ears turning deaf as he told you it wasn't necessary.

He always tried to do everything on his own, he felt as if he was a burden to others. Ever since he was a kid, he thought that maybe it was better if he stayed quiet.

Maybe that was what life had been awaiting him for.

He loved silence, he loved quiet walks into the mountains by himself, whenever his mother would let him.

However, you were quite the opposite of quiet.

. . .

"Yeah, it's that weird guy I told you about"

"Why is he here?"

"Why is he wearing that in public?"

"I heard he was involved with that terrorist group"

Over and over again.

At this point he couldn't distinguish between his mind and the world that was surrounding him.

Cruising through the city, he tried not to interact with anyone as always. But no matter how hard he wanted to focus on his task, there were always some burning eyes on his skull.

At first he didn't mind, he wasn't really used to this kind of attention but he shrugged it off.

Maybe it was his sword or maybe it was the curse in his eyes.

However, as the weeks passed by, he felt more and more out of place. The pollution brought an itch inside his head, but those whispered comments brought headaches.

"Mind your own bussiness, freak"

Turning his head around, he looked over to where you hissed. It was almost comical to see you scolding a pretty big guy, his friends already about to either insult or laugh at you.

However, he stepped behind you before any of that.

He liked the way you always tried to defend him, always beefing with people whenever you heard those awful comments.

He felt somewhat protected

. . .

"You're taking a bath"

What?

He had dissociated from the conversation to the point that he was now aware of your hands prying off his armour.

At first he didn't enjoy those "cute little baths". He felt bad you were cleaning him up and he felt like a little child under your fingertips once again.

But the more your hands laid themselves on his bare body, cleaning him up, the more he leant into your touch.

So he let you handle him around

"Alright, let's start"

After that, your fingers started spreading soap around his scalp, his whole body submerged inside your hot tub.

He found it kind of silly that he had to lay down with his knees outside the water when you could spread them so they rested under it.

He loved those small details

With you he didn't feel naked and vulnerable, he felt finally at peace. He didn't know how much he actually needed your hands on him, but his body surely craved them.

Speaking of, they were currently rubbing soap on his chest, tracing a path until they latched themselves on his arms.

Curiosity spread around his mind whenever you would praise them, tell him how strong he had became over the years. Curiosity because he didn't see that much of a change, he was always like that, right?

But he didn't mind them, hell, he secretly flexed under your gaze so you could gawk at them.

Summer days whenever it was hot outside, glistening skin under the warm hues of the punishing sun. He was always weirdly lifting something heavy whenever you were around, a wooden box or some metal bar.

A secret attention whore

He let you play around with his fingers, eyes closed as he relaxed into the tub behind him. He liked the way your hand fit so perfectly with his own one.

Whenever you would drag him around the city, latching your fingers around his wrist as he followed close behind you.

Ever since the day he had met you, you seemed different.

He could crack a smile with you without the need of feeling embarrassed about it, let alone laugh at your stupid puns. He felt light-headed, and he really needed you after a long day.

That's why he always tried to get home as soon as possible when you weren't working too, he wanted ( needed ) to see you. The way his aching legs dragged themselves without any pain into your house.

But on days like this, his legs ached x2 times harder.

Why was he still alive after all that had happened?

Why did the Planet need him so badly?

Couldn't others replace his job?

Those questions flooded his mind again and again, like a snake that bit it's own tail.

He was become more and more confused about his surroundings, the past traumatic events still flashing lively through his tired eyes.

God he was tired.

And after all the times he had already told you that he was fine, just tired, that adjective seemed to have lost it's initial weight.

So tired.

The past, the nostalgia mixed with the sour taste of regret and bad decisions.

The present that still haunted him on lonely, endless nights.

The future he didn't even want to know that was awaiting for him.

As bad as it sounded, he had lost interest in the things he adored doing. He felt better when he was just breathing, sinking in your arms.

SOLDIER? he wasn't good enough to be one of them

Sep%#/<*@? It was better if he slowly forgot his name

However, it wasn't that easy.

No matter how far his legs had managed to take him, a long trail into some tall, enigmatic woods without a visible exit.

He was always following right behind him

And he didn't know how much time he had left until his face would be pushed into the dirt, a much stronger hand keeping him down.

. . .

"Cloud!"

White hair was replaced by your h/c locks, a warm waterfall of relief washed all over his body at your sight.

"Were you even listening to me?"

His body felt fuzzy and when he looked down he saw a towel wrapped around him, his legs sitting on the cold wc.

He looked back into your face, a cute pout resting on top of your brows as you waited for him to answer. Only to see that disgusting look of worry paint all over your pout instead.

He hated and despised that look in your face

He always blamed himself for making you feel like that, maybe he shouldn't have opened up as much as he did. Maybe he was being such a baby about all this.

He wanted to make you happy with him, cheerish him for the things he had done that day, admire him. Anything that didn't involve your pretty face coming down.

But, of course, he didn't know how to brighten it up.

His pupils remained connected with yours until he looked away, confused about what to do or to say.

But your hands suddendly wrapping his head in a warm cage of softness, kept him from thinking. A towel was ruffling his hair up, and he didn't mind anymore if it ended up messed.

He liked the feeling of someone finally taking care of him

And when you both finally winded down from the day, ready to rest on the comfortable bedding you had chosen, he felt as if someone was dragging him down into a puddle of confusion once again.

The worst part is that he didn't know how to swim back

"Sweetie"

She paused for a brief moment, her hands slowly lulling him back into an awake state.

"Honey?"

Mom?

"That's right, sweetie"

His eyes opened up, finally seeing the woman behind that familar voice.

"I missed you"

He couldn't believe he was back home, looking down he still saw his adult body. Well, and adult body that only hid childish maners.

He wanted to say that he missed her too, a lot actually. But no words seemed to seep out of his mouth, it felt like a nightmare.

Part of his childhood and teenage years passed by without her, a warmth he seemed to seek on cold nights, sneaking a hand around your waist. Whenever he saw other children with their mothers, teenagers that got angry at them, he wanted to feel that too.

Hell, he wanted to feel everything that he was deprived of. From the softness of her arms as she tucked him to sleep, to her honeyed voice as she sung making dinner.

His head still laid on his pillows and he could recall the coziness of it, it was the only thing about his past that he was sure was real.

"You've grown to be a good man huh?"

She kept talking, and he wanted nothing more to do other than hearing her voice for the last time.

"You've gotten really handsome too. . ."

Her hands took his arm, his mind now being aware of her presence as she sat on the bed, sinking a bit the mattress. Her fingertips dancing along the skin, trying to memorize all his muscles.

". . . and strong too"

A big smile was plastered on her face, looking at him as if he was a newborn again, getting ready to sleep for the first time after she had given birth to him.

"The ladies must be crazy for you"

And she wasn't wrong, they really were.

He got compliments almost every day in Midgar, from the honeygirls to some random ladies on the street. But it wasn't until his mother told him how pretty he actually was that he started believing it.

"I saw that girl, you're a lucky one"

Did she mean... you?

You were one of the few persons he knew he could trust, that could lend him a hand whenever he was feeling down.

He couldn't describe what he felt for you, but he definitely knew that if you happened to fall off a cliff, he would be there to catch you.

You had done so much already for him and yet without expecting the same amount of love and care for him. And he felt so bad about it, he wanted to return all of your hugs, cuddles, kisses and praises.

"She's the one"

And there you were, laying like a lonesome princess by his side. He could see your pacified breathing, it would always calm him down.

How had he gotten so lucky?

You seemed like a goddess under his gaze, and it was on nights like this he finally got to appreciate your beauty.

You could be sweating, with your hair all ruffled up after a workout that he still would've found you the prettiest woman alive.

You always told him how handsome he was, how his face was absolutely perfect as you forced him into wearing some kind of mask you would apply into your face shortly after too.

He loved you, he loved you, he loved you

His mind was racing at this point, he didn't even know where to look anymore. At your pretty eyes closed shut? At the way you were cutely laying on the bed with your arms hugging your chest? At your body under the mattress?

If he were to write down his favourite part about you, he wouldn't even know where to start.

However, when your eyes opened themselves slowly, he panicked.

Did he wake you up?

But he stayed still on spot, the warm blanket he didn't want to leave when he got up in the morning pooling bellow his stomach.

"Cloud?"

Stop.

He wished he had an audio recorded of your voice and listen to it whenever he had to sleep without you.

"What's wrong?"

Your eyelashes batted themselves, trying to wake your brain up as you searched his body under the dark light.

He soon felt your hand on his bare chest, finally able to look at him in the eyes. Which wasn't a complicated task as they were bright as the sun.

Your moon in dark nights

"Go back to sleep"

That was the fourth time you had heard him speak this afternoon, and it concerned you so much. He always listened to your stories and when he was in a good mood, he would never shut up.

He was a pleasant person to speak to, really, he had such beautiful words to say whenever he got philosophical. And he actually made you cry when he bashed out about his trauma.

But you just looked at him and without any words, your arms enveloped him like his mother. You knew he was comfortable like this, silence as your heartbeat slowly matched his own one perfectly.

And soon both of your bodies were laying on the mattress, your hands holding his head, pressing him further into your chest as he clinged to your back.

You told him the most sugary praises you could had ever thought about, lulling him back to sleep as his mind began clouding with sleep.

You could've sworn you felt something wet on your chest, but you didn't care, you were more than happy to finally see him express his feelings with you.

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