#the sun and moon in endless chase

[atopvisenyashill]

there’s a few potential sansa romantic endgames that i think have some textual basis and i think all of them come with a lot of issues wrt sansa being able to publically claim these relationships which is why i think sansa will say her children are “fathered by a wolf” because regardless of Who she’s with or even the legality of it, she’s going to be actively concealing their identity AND YET she needs to have children.

i think especially that even though arya’s love life is guaranteed to be less complicated, sansa will feel obligated to take this “burden” of ensuring their line onto herself; she wants arya to have the freedom to go where she pleases, be with who she pleases, and follow her passions and that is not easy to do if everyone is expecting you to come home and start popping out kids. I consider them a sort of reflection of ned and lyanna in this way in that sansa, second born and not meant to rule, uses her newfound power to let the wild, youngest girl (but not youngest child) in the family follow her passions wherever they may take her.

this is all kind of weird with the nixed time jump but considering that george has talked about writing stories from arya’s pov about her adventures, I think it’s going to be fairly important in story regardless of their ages that arya will attempt to offer to stay home and marry and have children as a way of helping to protect sansa’s very shaky claim on winterfell but that sansa encourages arya to do whatever she wants. to travel, to help shepherd the boatloads of refugees from the various wars to wherever they want to call home, to settle displaced northerners in other parts of westeros as well, to get involved in the lives of the people arya is helping and agree to help them liberate their own homes by using her skills (crucial here that arya is A leader but not the SOLE leader), or to go out into the woods and be a secret not-quite-an-outlaw (bc sansa isn’t outlawing anything that could hurt arya’s lil crusades, probably is helping bankroll arya) to bring justice to the smallfolk, like whatever it is arya wants to do with her life, the point is that she offers to give it up and sansa refuses to take the offer.

and then we have the idea that her kids are fathered by a wolf. not elizabeth-ing herself here exactly because she’s having children but never publicly acknowledging a father or a husband or even a lover.

i think the candidates most likely are jon snow and theon, with both brienne and podrick as like “i’m not saying he’s gonna do it but i am saying they make a lot of sense narratively” and aegon vi as a huge long shot but still undeniable contender. if briensa does go canon everyone owes me five bucks each tho. i think the options other people float are not just wildly unserious they also clearly don’t think sansa will be The Ruling Lady Of Winterfell, but some much more minor or less emotionally resonant title and i just do not vibe with that shit at all. harry the heir, sandor, sweetrobin, tyrion, littlefucker, like never mind sansa never once showing any real interest in these guys and NONE of these dudes being satisfied by the idea of being her secret husband, if sansa says to arya “yeah i’m marrying tyrion” arya is going “blink twice if you’re being held hostage and you need me to kill him” but it’s too late because jon snow is already unsheathing longclaw and bran is attacking with every raven in winterfell. it’s not fucking happening and imo it’s unserious to pretend like it could happen in canon. (and if it DOES happen in canon you will find me rocking up to george’s house in jersey and demanding to know why he’s so weird about teenage girls). i think margaery is a huge long shot here (and not just bc it would make them both canonically on screen gay) because i don’t think she’s gonna live to the ending, and jeyne poole is too traumatized at this point in time for me to feel confident in putting her in the same category as brienne and pod.

(theon’s trauma is WHY i think he’s still a contender - post reek theon is going to struggle a lot with figuring out where he’s supposed to be, who he’s supposed to be, and who he can trust as he puts himself back together, and that lends itself nicely to the idea of a secret husband/lover imo. once again, we are talking extreme trauma bonding here - that’s just the only way i see sansa’s romances going).

if you’re asking “who do you think arya is winding up with” it’s gendry. i don’t doubt that there were some plans for edric dayne, arya, and gendry but i think gendry was always going to be her great love here, that she’s always going to turn down the idea of marriage to him but gendry doesn’t care so long as they are still together. there’s a neon blinking sign over gendry’s head that says “endgame material” and i think it’s unserious to pretend it’s not there too!!

#again my conspiracy here is that he can’t do all the rhaegar/lyanna/robert/ned/ashara/cat paralleling he would like and it’s thrown him off #that’s my rant of the day aksjdj #getting on my soap box #theonsa #jonsa #briensa #jeynsa #what’s the pod sansa name i always forget #the sun and moon in endless chase

[sixosix]

wc, 500. talks a lot x listens trope, but with xiao.

Xiao dislikes wasting time.

There are a million reasons why he doesn’t indulge in small talk. Get to the point, he urges, tell me what you want. For their sake, but there’s also that he’d rather not involve himself in anyone else’s affairs.

But he could listen to you talk for hours. Days, years. You could hold him down, trap him in your arms—and he can break free any time, and he would, had it been anyone else, but he finds that he doesn’t want to right now.

“Xiao,” you say. Your breath hits his face. He feels warmth creep to his cheeks, and he’s already thinking about using your “unbearable” proximity as an excuse. “Xiao… Listen, you know how two weeks ago I made you that plate of Almond Tofu?”

Xiao hums, willing himself to make his gaze less soft, to something more intimidating. But you’re undeterred, grinning at him and skirting around why you’ve pinned him against the wall and completely disrespected his bubble of space. Not that he minds, anyway. He finds that he doesn’t mind a lot of things when you do it.

You’d been terribly occupied yesterday. You didn’t call Xiao’s name once—and usually, you’d be calling for him all the time, doing it to provoke a reaction out of him, but if Xiao really hated it, he would’ve stopped appearing eventually. He always appears, be it when you’re on the brink of death, or you want him to pick what you’d have for dinner that day.

Now, he’s willingly helpless as you talk and talk and he listens.

“And you hated the Almond Tofu I made, do you remember that? You made a face. All scrunched up—and it was cute, actually. That was a really funny face you made, I wish I had my Kamera with me at the time.”

Xiao wilts, still embarrassed you caught onto his visceral reaction. He doesn’t mean to offend you, even if right now it seems you’re taking it all in stride. “It was just different.”

You laugh brightly, like Xiao’s looking right at the sun, and he’s the moon chasing after your endless warmth. “No need to protect my pride. It made me want to do better. So, yesterday, I practiced all day to perfect it. I had all the chefs I know taste it, and they said I’ve gotten better this time!”

Xiao’s face burns. He squints to keep his eyes from blowing too wide.  “You were… practicing.”

“For you.”

“For me,” he echoes.

“…Do you want to try it?”

“Tell me about the events that transpired yesterday as I eat it,” Xiao demands, shifting to free himself from your arms, entirely missing the surprise that washes over your expression. He turns and finds you frozen in the same spot. “Well?”

Your gaze snaps back to him, beaming. “Well, if you missed me talking your ear off and wasting your time, then gladly.”

It’s not wasting time if it’s time spent with you, is what Xiao keeps to himself.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao imagines

[wineauntie]

"Always You" is masterful, it unlocked something in my brain and my heart. May I please request some fluff with Jack? I will leave the specifics up to you, but can it please be a dynamic where she is more like the moon (quiet, out of the spotlight)?

THESE QUIET MOMENTS — Jack Hughes x reader

summary: Jack Hughes thinks you’re like the moon, yet when you find yourself lost in the dark, you find him to be your shining light.

note: I adore this request so much, that it is 3am and I wrote this in under thirty minutes 🙏

warnings: use of y/n, fem!reader, angsty thoughts soothed with fluff, Jack Hughes in love, nicknames like pretty girl, reader is an introvert.

word count: 1.6K

please excuse any grammatical errors, it is once again 3am and I’m too tired to edit!

When people thought of Jack Hughes, hockey was obviously the first thing to come to mind. That along with the thought that he was the life of any party, that he was outgoing, vibrant and a lover of all things fun. He was under the spotlight and loved it there too.

What people often failed to mention about Jack Hughes was that he was also a lover of quiet moments, moments where the world faded into silence leaving him and you in your own little bubble of serenity.

You and Jack had been dating for almost a year and a half. When you'd begun to date, those around you questioned the dynamic because whilst Jack was outrageously out there in the way he acted, and you were the exact opposite.

You were introverted to say the least, preferring a night in instead of clubbing and enjoying your solace over any form of chaos. You were more shy  compared to others, finding it hard to put yourself out there, but Jack had stumbled into your life, destined to help you creep out of your shell.

He taught you to enjoy moments of chaos and find the peace in it all (despite how contradictory that sounded) and in turn you taught him that the quiet moments were not boring but instead a necessity for sanity.

Jack adored you. He worshipped you in a way someone might worship a higher being. He was attentive and caring, always going above and beyond for you no matter the time needed or cost.

To him, you were an essential part of life.

The moon, perhaps?

Quite like the moon, your warm glow soothed every tendril of hatred inside of his body. Your effervescent and mesmerising way of orbiting his world was done in a way so natural, that he couldn’t comprehend how fitting it all was.

Soft, welcoming and hopeful.

Yes, you were the moon.

Your smile's shine acting like a light in the dark depths of the night, never fading from the moment the sun set to the moment the sun entered the picture once more.

Jack could live with the assurance that even on the brightest of days and fullest of moments, you would be there soon, blessing him with even more light to chase the dark away.

And when the night fell and engulfed the world and Jack into an endless darkness, he knew you would appear like the moon and act like a guiding light.

"Y/n? I'm home!"

Your head jerked up from your book that lay half-read on your lap as the sound of the door to the apartment resounded. You heard shuffling from the hallway as the two boys filtered into the living room, watching them appear, you stood to your feet, moving your blanket and book aside.

"Hey," you smiled, as Jack's eyes met yours, his softening instantaneously as he shifted one of his hands and wrapped it around you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. "Well done on the game." Your eyes flitted to Luke, who ran a hand through his curls.

"Thanks, pretty girl," Jack grinned, his grip still tight around you, as he looked down at your face-which was slowly

"Thanks, y/n," Luke chimed, before disappearing into his bedroom. You weren't offended by his lack of conversation, knowing damn well when Luke got home from a game he was wrecked and needed a nap.

"So..." Jack drawled, drawing your attention back to him. "What did you do for the evening?"

You curled your arms around his neck, as you tilted your head in thought. "Well, I watched the game, and I read," you spoke slowly, "I really didn't do much, honestly."

"You read?" Jack hummed teasingly, "What a surprise!" As you rolled your eyes, Jack lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively whilst you laughed.

Jack held you close before he plopped down on the couch, pulling you into his lap as he did so. You, now straddling him, allowed your fingers to lightly brush over his cheekbones. Jack watched you with so much care, your heart melted.

"I missed you," Jack sighed, his eyes on yours as your fingers slowly traipsed up into his hair. "Don't like leaving you here by yourself."

You ducked your head, feeling rather embarrassed. You knew that despite not voicing it, a part Jack wanted you to attend his games. You attended as many of them as possible, but the crowds mixed with everyone suddenly knowing who you were, sent your heart palpitating towards the edge of panic.

Jack understood this and never pushed for you to go. He cared more about your safety and mental health, feeling far better that you were tucked up safely at home, wearing his clothes as you watched the game on the television.

But there were times where your hidden guilt hit you like a backwards moving truck, the thoughts of disappointing him ramming through you to the point where you're entire brain couldn't focus on anything else.

"Uh uh," Jack tutted, his hand moving from around your waist, to gently hold your cheek, lifting your head from its lowered position. "What's wrong, pretty girl, where are your thoughts at?"

You bit your lip and nuzzled into his touch, your eyes closing as you relished the warmth of his touch. Jack allowed you to sink him, giving you all the time in the world to answer.

You took a small breath in before you began to speak, becoming killed by Jack's thumb stroking your jaw line.

"Does a little part of you hate me for not being more "out there"?" You asked, your voice an octave above a whisper. You felt embarrassed to ask but the wiggling thought couldn't be settled until you'd gotten an answer.

Jack tensed beneath you, his thumb halting its soothing trail as you kept your eyes closed tight.

"Never mind," you quickly continued, unlatching your arms from him and pushing yourself off of his lap. "It was a silly question, don't–"

Jack grabbed your wrist and dragged you back down onto his lap, your legs now strewn over him as he held you. His eyes had crackled with the faintest embers of frustration as you curled up into him but his sadness washed over the fire, dowsing it entirely.

"It was a silly question," Jack agreed, his arms pulling you impossibly closer to his chest. "How could you ever think I hate you?" His voice cracked at the end of his sentence, the hurt seeping through his words.

"I don't know..I just," you huffed, pressing your face into his collarbone, trying to hide from his eyes. "You are the epitome of outgoing, Jack, I feel like I'm holding you back from, I don't know, going out and living."

Jack felt his heart shatter at your small voice, his face scrunched up in upset.

"Being here, with you, is living," Jack spoke clearly, "the moments I spend with you are my favourites and push me to live. Whether it be the moments where we laugh or cry or even the silent and quiet moments, I love them all." He paused, as you raised your face.

"I sometimes think I was made to love you, that before I was just floating around aimlessly. And you? You pulled me back and everything just feels right." Jack continued. Each word he spoke was deliberate as he kept his gaze locked on yours. "I don't care that you aren't "out there", because in all honesty, I'd rather you be happy and safe, than miserable and out of your comfort zone."

"But...what about games?" Your voice trembled, "I don't go to them a lot and I know a bunch of your teammates have people there to watch."

"Pretty girl, you are always with me at games," Jack reminded you, pulling out his thin and silver chain, with a small, rectangular locket attached. The sight caused a small smile to spread across your face. You knew that if you were to open the concealed locket, you'd find his favourite picture of you inside of it.

It was the cheesiest thing you'd ever seen, but Jack wore it proudly, as a king would wear his crown.

"You are with me at every moment and yeah, maybe not physically, but I know that as soon as I walk in the door, you'll be waiting for me, wearing my clothes and sleeping in my bed." Jack's voice was lower now, "and to be honest, I prefer our quiet moments. I prefer staying in with you as you read a book and I watch a match."

"You mean it?" Your eyes shone with so much affection that Jack couldn't resist the urge to kiss you as he bent and pressed a long kiss to your pouted lips.

"Every single word of it," Jack confirmed against your lips as you parted. "I love you...I love everything about you. Don't allow your thoughts to twist and let you think otherwise."

You nodded as Jack pressed kisses all up your face before he grabbed your book from where you'd placed it down and the remote from beside the couch.

"Now, we're going to watch a match and read, because I'm not allowing our quiet moment to go uncompleted,"

You plucked the book from his hands with a nod and rush of warmth flowing through your heart, as he began to flick through channels to find a game.

The two of you settled into the couch for the evening, completely intertwined as the night wore on. Jack would glance down at you every few moments, admiring your scrunched brows and concentration.

Yup, you were his moon. It was one hundred percent decided.

Like an astronomer, he was captivated by you, but whilst he was willing to share the actual, real-life moon with billions of people, he'd be damned if he'd ever let anyone else tamper with his girl.

You were his, just as much as he was yours.

And you really wouldn't have it any other way.

a/n: I am a slut for comparing people to things icl so this ask was literally begging to be written.

#wineauntie #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes fanfic #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fluff #Jack Hughes #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #nhl x reader

[witherfide]

as much as i love the idea of moon being an adorable sweetheart, i can’t help but favor the interpretations of them just being a straight-up nuisance to others around them

them constantly picking fights with the other animatronics knowing they’ll lose, making sun’s job 10x harder than it needs to be by saying stupid shit in his ear, growling and hissing at the employees when they walk past, chasing you on all fours while you’re screaming in fear, hanging out in the vents for hours while staff frantically searches for them, stuffing food in their chest cavity that ends up rotting in there for weeks on end, stealing anything and everything from the employee’s jackets which results in lost badges and no pens in sight, using the wire like it’s a swing until it snaps and drops them from 20 feet in the air

the possibilities are ENDLESS and i think you should consider “chaotic” moon more

#text post #i adore moon #i feel like i dont make that obvious sometimes with how much i draw sunny #let them be an asshole please #i need them to cause problems for no reason #long text #this is not an invitation to simp for them btw

[venussaidso]

𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧-𝐑𝐚𝐡𝐮-𝐊𝐞𝐭𝐮: 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦

the prominent themes of vampirism such as desire, hunger, mystery and illusions tie so perfectly with the moon and its nodes. it wasn't surprising to find the nodes dominating this genre the most, along with the luminaries (moon & sun nakshatras, but more fittingly the moon). i will not be touching on the few sun nakshatras playing vampires, as the moon makes far more sense symbolizing true vampiric nature.

So many vampire movie posters have this luminous glow to them, likely done consciously because of these creatures' affinity for nighttime, and generally being nocturnal as they're extremely sensitive to any type of sunlight.

I've once briefly mentioned, in my "Moon Dominant Themes" post, that lunar natives can operate very secretly, such as 'working in the shadows'. And the whole lore of vampires always emphasizes their ability to hide themselves while still living among humans.

Vampires undergoing periods of dormancy and resurgence is interesting as that can also be linked back to the moon's cycles of waxing & maning. The influence that the moon has on vampires, in some legends, is during certain lunar phases in which they become more active. A full moon could literally mean that their strength has enhanced, whilst a moonless night could mean their desire for blood is heightened.

Rohini Sun Colin Farrell

Claire Nakti explored, in her "TOP 3 Most Magical & Mystical Astrology Signs | Cults, Divination, & Occultism | Part 2 (Nakshatras)" documentary, on the ability of Moon nakshatra natives to brainwash/mind control/hypnotize.

daniel kaluuya is a hasta moon, not rohini.

As these natives are often cult leaders, their ability to influence the mind goes back to their lunar-rulership. The Moon rules over the mind, emotions and subconscious. A vampire's ability to hypnotize humans and other lesser beings is in parallel to the Moon's influence over the psyche and subconscious.

This illusory nature found in vampires can be connected to the shadow planet, Rahu. As Rahu is illusions, desire, hunger. Rahu is very seductive and tempting; this could tie back to some legends in which vampires lure their prey giving them promises of pleasure.

Ardra Sun Tom Cruise.

In "Interview with the Vampire", Tom Cruise plays Lestat who is an overindulgent, greedy vampire. Rahu governs desires and the pursuit of worldly pleasures. It's related to insatiable cravings that lead to greed. The lustful nature of Rahu is seen in Lestat's intense bloodlust and the chaos it brings.

Rahu's associations with eclipses relates to their ability of being hidden in the shadows. Another hint is in Rahu being a Shadow planet itself, just like Ketu is which is also related to vampires.

The story about Rahu's head getting decapitated by Vishnu for trying to get a drink out of the nectar of immortality can be brilliantly paralleled with vampirism. Due to Rahu's consumption of the drop of the nectar, he became the infamous dismembered immortal. His dismemberment a symbol of the detachment from humanity to vampirism.

Rahu is considered an entity of darkness and malevolence, preying upon cosmic forces and defying the natural order of things (such as vampirism which does defy nature itself, ie. the dead becoming undead) in pursuit for immortality. Vampires are literal parasites, and Rahu is also parasitical. Vampires feed on humans without providing any benefit in the ecosystem in return, a one-sided relationship which resembles one between a parasite and its host. Rahu is depicted as insatiable and consuming, feeding and draining one's energy. It creates a cycle of thirsting for more without any fulfillment, a predicament vampires find themselves in.

Ashwini Sun Luke Evans

Rahu and Ketu represent the lunar nodes, respectively depicted as the head and tail of the celestial serpent. Their energetic interaction can be likened to the endless chase between a vampire and a vampire hunter, villain and hero, the friction between unlikely lovers. It's obvious in how Rahu embodies the insatiable hunger for experiences and the craving for fulfillment that it can be the vampiric force in such a dynamic. Like a vampire, Rahu relentlessly pursues its desires, often leading to greed and excess. And then you have Ketu, on the other hand, which embodies detachment, spirituality, and liberation from worldly attachments. It quite literally symbolizes the renunciation of desires and the quest for enlightenment, opposing Rahu's restlessness for more. Ketu is a cutting force, and like a determined vampire hunter, is skilled in tracking down illusions and breaking free from temptations.

Although it sounds like a more fitting interplay between Rahu as the evil force and Ketu as the hunter, it's actually more seen in the other way around.

It is more so that Rahuvians are the vampire hunters, which I found so intriguing; showcasing how Rahu is both the parasitical (illusory), and also the one to be rid of parasites (disillusionment). And I have explored this particular theme in my Rahu post -- how Rahu natives experience a lot of disillusionment from their reality, wanting to cast away the illusions that drain the life force.

The reversal of roles showcases the fluidity of the nodes; their roles almost always expected to reverse, illustrating just how Rahu and Ketu are deeply intertwined with the concept of karma, representing the push-&-pull between cosmic forces of destiny.

More nodal-vampire movies, and other examples in which Rahu & Ketu find themselves on opposite sides of the same spectrum in which they are both vampires, similar to the friction seen between Louis (Ketu) and Lestat (Rahu) in "Interview with the Vampire".

In the film "Fright Night", the one who has to kill the villainous vampire is an Ashwini native. It is also interesting how in "Queen of the Damned" (above, right), the villain is a Magha native who must be stopped by her Mula lover -- both being vampires.

As mentioned in the figure image about the film "Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter", where a nodal-ruled native is paired up with someone who is lunar-ruled, this is a type of pairing seen a lot in these supernatural stories.

Similarly to "Twilight", as Edward was the one to turn Bella into a vampire, we see the planetary reversal of this in which the lunar-native is the one who turns the nodal-native.

Or the film "Vamps" in which Hasta Sun, Shatabhisha Moon native Alicia Silverstone turns Mula Sun, Magha Moon native Krysten Ritter into a vampire.

It isn't a surprise that the moon and its nodes are related to the extremities of the mind. These energies can cause isolation due to how polarizing they come off in regular society (furthermore validating its relation to vampirism), so they become attracted to one another -- especially the nodal natives to the moon natives, because of how much they feel magnetized by them, and vice versa.

The presence of some Sun nakshatras in vampire stories is present and that could tie to the Sun's influence over the Moon despite the fact that solar symbolisms regarding vampirism don't exist, and vampires are far too sensitive to the Sun so much so that they get sunburn during the full moon where the sun's light reflects (interesting to think about). The whole point of a vampire is to lurk in the shadows or during nighttime, so the strict avoidance of the Sun could make sense in there being solar-natives in vampiric roles. It makes for an interesting contradiction, certainly.

Ketu is the body of the severed demon Rahu following the consumption of the elixir. Much like Rahu, Ketu is also associated to darkness and illusions. But it symbolizes the darker, unseen aspects of reality -- all the hidden forces and energies as I've touched on in my Ketu exploration. Ketu and Rahu are two sides of the same coin, it isn't surprising to see them share many vampiric roles/stories.

Ketu is about spiritual liberation, detachment (in this context, becoming a vampire means a harsh detachment from normality/the old life), transcendence; these existential themes are found in vampirism.

The character Louis in "Interview with the Vampire" played by Mula Sun Brad Pitt describes his existential crisis as a vampire to a Magha Sun human who interviews him.

The enhanced strength, agility, speed, hearing and all these abilities are gained after the painful transformation process, going from human to vampire. This process is seen in the film "Interview with the Vampire", Mula Sun Brad Pitt's character going through excruciating pain when turning. My mind immediately takes me to Claire Nakti's first Mula nakshatra exploration, in which she touched on the interconnection of pain and evolution for access to more powers.

robert pattinson is an ardra moon, not sun. and i accidentally used jk rowling's face as l.j smith, ugh! 💔

Vampires are caught between worlds, trapped in a liminal space between life & death. Ketu can cause feelings of entrapment. The yearning for release from their eternal existence is a common theme, as Ketu wants to escape its body. Louis de Pointe du Lac is the best character as example of rejecting one's own nature and wanting to cease to exist.

Mula Sun Brad Pitt

nodals being so emo jfc

notes: colin farrell's birthtime accuracy is botched, he's definitely a mula ascendant. tom hiddleston stays a possible ashwini moon until he's not (until his birthtime is available and accurate).

#vampires #astrology #vedic astrology #sidereal astrology #nakshatra observations #jyotish #rahu #ketu #moon #ardra #swati #shatabhisha #ashwini #magha #mula #rohini #hasta #shravana #aries #gemini #leo #libra #sagitarrius #aquarius #taurus #virgo #capricorn #astro observations

[youareunbearable]

Its late and im tired so please excuse if this doesn't make sense but lately, I've been thinking about Angry Aredhel must have been

Like realistically, when has this woman made a single decision about her future for herself, and in the few times when she did, when did it not end in tragedy

She must have been so angry, so frustrated and wrathful at her lot in life. She was meant for other things, greater thing! She was a disciple of Orome, the Maiden in White, one of the best hunters in his group along with her cousin.

Yet here she is, caged and trapped like a pretty little canary in a wire house. Stolen from her purpose because of her eldest brother's blind loyalty, her father's stubborn pride, her second oldest brother's blinding grief, and her baby brother's terminal bravery. She's across an ocean, escaped one cage for another by her tormentor and abuser posing as a husband.

The bastard won't even name their child.

She must have be so angry, stuck in that endless darkness, the forest must be such a familiar landscape but so different, twisted and wrong like looking into a warped mirror.

Shes grieving outside her "home" one night, having managed to convince the trees to part their branches just enough that she can glimpse a star or two so she can bask in the starlight. Its been a year since the birth of her son, and nothing has changed. Eol won't look at the boy, and she can feel herself drifting. Without the ability to see the passage of time, without the Light of the Trees or with the Sun and Moon chasing each other across the sky, things are blending together and she feels adrift.

At least when they crossed they ice, they were able to watch the stars move across the endless dark.

The starlight warms her skin, as weak and distant as it is, so she basks. With her eyes closed and face tilted up she feels like a lizard in the mid day sun. Behind her, she hears a noise, a twig being deliberately stepped upon. Aredhel whips around, raising her glowing lichen lamp, wondering if its her husband or one of his servants come to take her back. She feels a little feral at the idea of being dragged away from the pitiful starlight.

A wolf, with a pelt as crisp and clean as the snow dusting Himring's mountain top, slinks into the soft glow. Its fur takes on an almost sickly colour in the green luminescence. The wolf settles at the edge of the light, resting on its haunches as it observes her.

Aredhel thinks she's beautiful, for it is a female wolf. Even in the weak lamplight the beast's silver eyes seem to glow on their own, piercing her very fea and enticing her to come forward, to come closer. There is a power within the she wolf, one Aredhel craves.

The white beast introduces herself as a member of Orome's hunt, and Aredhel believes it, for the she wolf looks like the perfect hunter. The wolf asks her what she, as a fellow hunter, is doing out so far away from her kin and cub.

Momentarily surprised by the ability to speak, for not even Huan can speak so freely, Aredhel responses. She shares her desire for light, her frustration with her "husband," and how she wants a different life for her son. She never wanted this, and she wishes she had the ability to take control of her own fate.

The wolf is sympathetic to her plights, and offers to help her free herself and her child.

"You do have the ability to change your own fate, young one. Asking for help is something no one else could have done for you."

So Aredhel leads the wolf back to Eol's house. They walk through the entry way, both hunters are silent as the dawn as they go. Aredhel heads towards the master bedroom, but hesitates at the door. She can see Eol on his side of their bed, snoring lightly as he does. She hesitates, seeing a vision of what will happen once he realizes she's gone. Fire, doom and death follows her, poison and a flash of fang would flicker in him before he strikes her down for disobedience, for stealing away the son he won't even name.

The wolf nudges her aside, ghosting past her into the room. Aredhel's throat closes up and she slinks away, heading towards Lomion's nursery. She leaves to go strap her sleeping infant son to her chest, then grabs some supplies from the kitchen in a bag. Not even hearing a mouse skittering in the walls, let alone her wolf companion, she steels her nerves to check the master bedroom one more time.

As she passes her bedroom, she can see through a crack in the door and her breath freezes. Standing over the now corpse of her husband, maw dripping red from the freshly torn out throat, the white wolf looms. Aredhel stares transfixed, she can almost taste the blood between her own teeth, feel the rush of the kill, ache of her gums as tendons and tissue would rub against them. The wolf turns to look at her, silver eyes wild, white fur stained with her kill. Aredhel feels the air return to her lungs, she feels lighter and free, a little giggle slips past her lips and the wolf peels back its lips and bares its dripping fangs in a smile.

Aredhel leaves the house, fleeing on foot and all the while she can hear the wolf following her, keeping pace and shadowing her in the darkness, and at some points, ahead of her, leading her out of the woods. Running like this, oh she hasn't done this in years!. The wind snapping at her hair, branches and leaves kissing her cheeks and arms, the rush of a completed hunt with another one ahead of her feels like her first real breath in a long time. It feels like days later, and seconds, heartbeats, when she can see the treeline, dawn's hazy reddish glow peaking through the trees.

Aredhel gives a joyful cry and runs faster. That laughter bubbling up inside of her finally bursts past her lips once she breaks the treeline. The sun on her skin is warm and bright and all she wants to do is laugh and cry and scream until her throat is raw and her tears run dry. But she has to keep moving, she has Lomion still with her, and she is too close to the woods to feel truly safe yet. She walks north, and east, not really knowing where she's heading but knowing that she'll cross into her cousins' land soon. As she walks, she soon realizes that she hasn't seen or heard from her she wolf in a while. Stopping, Aredhel turns to look back, but no where can she see that brilliant white coat, or any tracks that look like wolf paws. She squint, looking back at the distant treeline and sees nothing but shadow. She mourns for her companion, wishing she could have wished her well or at least thanked her for her help. She wonders if Orome set the wolf to free her, not wanting to see one of his hunters in chains.

Its about mid morning when she comes across some of her cousins men, and they're horrified. They ask if she's ok, of she's hurt, they take her to a nearby stream even though she insists she's fine, that she wants to see her cousins.

When she sees her reflection she's scared for a moment. All she can see it blood, dried and crusted down her throat, staining her lips and chin. There is red all along the collar of her white dress, her sleeves, but her hands are clean, and so is her son still asleep strapped across her chest. She looks into her reflection, not yet comprehending. Silver eyes that seem so familiar stare back above the red, above the proof of her freedom.

She bares her bloody teeth in smile.

#Aredhel #silm #silmarillion #Maeglin #i think it would hot if Aredhel pulled a finrod and ripped out eols throat #with her bare teeth like Yes Please Queen Slay lmao #Celegorm is so proud when he finds out like Lmao Still Got It Cuz!!!!! and a bonus new free nephew!!!! #Curufin is disgusted he is related to these ppl but also is supportive of Aredhel going ape shit like she deserves #she chipped some of her teeth on thr bite so like the loving cousin he is curufin makes her mithril fangs #maedhros screams into his hands when he finds out but is also proud. so is fingon! thats his Baby Sister!!! #Lomion grows up Normal and Loved and Nolo adores him and is glad to have a sensible heir for when #fingon inevitability leaves them to marry Maedhros. whenever they get around to it.

[faux-ecrivain]

What kinda yan would utterly adore a werewolf reader

(Good question and Thank you for the request/ask Anon number 7)

(Twentieth Official Post)

————————————————————When the sun sets and the full moon rises your body begins to experience changes, changes that cause your Yandere to experience a potentially interesting reaction..

———————————————————————-

Yan Crossdresser; would have mixed feelings, because he loves brushing your fur when you turn, but you make such a mess, you’re always shedding hair and sometimes you destroy furniture. Which really irritates him, because he may be well-off but his money isn’t endless. Usually when you starts misbehaving (ie destroying furniture, waking up the neighbors, digging up yards and etc) he punishes you with the dog house. That’s right, he’ll put you in a large doghouse and keep you in there until you’ve learned your lesson. So, usually when you turn he has a leash and collar close by (at all times).

———————————————————————-

Yan Neko; absolutely hates it when you turn, mostly because you’re a large dog and you bark at him whenever you turn. But, also because you chase him around and start fights with him. He also hates dogs, like any dogs. Usually when you turn he starts hissing at you and growling, he’ll even snarl at you and if you don’t get away from him (and stay far away) then the claws will come out, and he’ll attack you. Which happens very time you turn and usually ends up with the two of you in a whole lot of pain..

——————————————————————-

Yan Idol; before he’s abducted you;wouldn’t have any strong feelings toward this revelation, but he will try to take care of you and prevent your secret from getting out| After he’s abducted you; he would hold it over your head and insist that by keeping you imprisoned in his home, he’s keeping you and everyone else safe. And when you’ve turned he usually has you chained up and muzzled, this is because whenever you transform you have a habit of trying to attack him, and since he has no desire to be mauled, he’ll try to stay as far as possible. Of course, he’ll still take care of you, but he’s not going near you (no matter how much he wants to cuddle you large furry body!) Does he adore it? Yes, he does, but he hates punishing you.

———————————————————————

Yan Baby-sitter; He’s be in even more awe of you. Not only do you have some sort of supernatural ability to save him from demons, but you’re an actual supernatural being! He’d pamper you, if you’re hungry when you’ve transform he’ll hunt you the best meals (which you gleefully devour)! If you’re tired then he’ll fluff your pillows and cover you in the largest, comfiest  blanket he can find (he’ll swaddle you in a blanket and wrap it around you so tight, that you won’t be able to slash at him). If you’re in a playful mood, he’ll play whatever game you want (even chase, which usually means he gets chased by you because he keeps hugging you, but eh to him it’s the same thing)! So, I would say that Yan Baby-sitter would be the most likely to adore you!

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Yan Cheater; He’ll use it to bribe you, although it doesn’t work very well (because in his world werewolves aren’t real), but it won’t stop him. Plus, when you do transform he goes out of his way to incapacitate you (usually with a form of food or pets!) and take care of you. He tries to show you that he can take care of you and that you should get back with him, because he really does love you (no he doesn’t). He tries his best to be kind to you, but your disobedience and animalistic behavior does irritate him and often causes him to punish you (typically by feeding you flavorless dog food, locking you up in a dog cage and by taking away your toys.). Does he adore your werewolfness? He thinks it’s cute, but views it as a bit of a nuisance (this is because you like to try and bite him when he comes near you).

—————————————————————

Yan Reader; His favorite author is a werewolf? And he’s the only that knows? Wow! That must mean you trust him, right?! He finds your werewolf form super cute! How does he know about it? Well, he installed cameras in your house some time ago, so he can see everything that happens in your home. Anyways, he desperately wishes to be beside you and to support you throughout your temporary change, but he doesn’t want to scare you, so he sends gifts that he hopes will help you out during your transformation. Does he adore it? Yes, he does.

———————————————————————-

Yan Roommate; thinks that your werewolf instincts might explain your overprotective behavior and since He wants to show you his gratitude, he takes care of you during you time as a werewolf. He brushes your fur, feeds you fulfilling meals and makes sure that no one outside your apartment takes notice of your strange behavior or the howls you release when you’re hungry. Does he adore it? Somewhat, he thinks your fur is soft and he loves brushing through it (it’s calming to him). He wonders if your kids know..

———————————————————————

Yan Neighbor; Well, when he had you he found your werewolfen tendencies to be a nuisance as you’re a very destructive dog. He contemplates locking you away for the duration of your transformation, but knows that doing so would be counterproductive. Which causes him to tolerate your change and take care of you during it. Does he adore it? No, not really, he isn’t a big fan of dogs and only takes care of you for your approval.

———————————————————————

Yan Emperor; He thinks it’s adorable and he holds it over your add, he knows that the nobles would further disapprove of your affliction and he knows you’ll do anything to keep it a secret. So, whenever you’re on the verge of transforming he’ll invite you over and will watch as you struggle to prevent your transformation. Of course, since he doesn’t want anyone to know about your curse, he’ll lend you a room to stay in and will make an excuse for whatever noble dares to inquire about you. Then when you do transform he’ll go to your room (after you’ve calmed down that is) and begin to drown you in affection. He’ll make you very uncomfortable, because even in your wolf form he’s always touching you (usually he’s petting your ears, rubbing your belly or brushing your fur). Not to mention, your pretty sure he has a strange attachment to your wolf form (mostly because he views it as a sign of strength and it means you’ll be able to defend him and any children you might have. Even though he’s perfectly capable of doing that). Does he adore it? Absolutely, he likes big animals and has many paintings with you sitting by his side in your wolf form. He even gifted you a diamond studded leash (one that’s your favorite color of course) and a matching leash (yes, he walks you around the grounds with that leash and if anyone asks, he says it’s his pet wolf).

———————————————————————-

Yan Duke (a character not yet written); He adores most animals and already admires you because you’re a General, and have won many wars. But, to learn that you’ve been undergoing such an affliction whilst maintaining your pride ,and ignoring all the ignorant remarks from other nobles, well he thinks you’re an amazing person. His admiration for you is upped by ten and he enjoys running his hands through fur. One of his favorite pastimes would be brushing your fur, he’s gentle, of course, and often spoils you with snout kisses. He has a whole room dedicated for you to use when you transform, it’s a cushy room with all the necessities your little doggy heart could ever want. Does he adore it? Yep, he loves it and often has you sleep on his bed when you transform.

———————————————————————-

1950s Househusband (yes, it he is a yan); He was surprised, his cute next door neighbor is a werewolf? He didn’t expect that, but he doesn’t mind. He’a actually quite happy to learn such a secret about you, he’s even more gleeful to learn that your trust him enough with this information. When you do transform, he goes out of his way to take care of you. He’ll pat your head, rub your belly, brush your fur and fed you gourmet meals. Although, he does get a bit upset when you jump on the furniture and shed your fur. He even scolds you, although he doesn’t mean anything when he says it. Does he adore it? Not initially, he was a bit turned off by it (he’s not a big fan of furry animals that shed), but he grew to appreciate that quirky trait or yours. Now he has no qualms about coming over and helping you through the whole process, although he has to work extra hard to keep his spouse from finding out about it.

———————————————————————

Yan fickle ex-boyfriend; He wants nothing to do with you, sure he says he loves you, but he won’t be there if you need him during the transformation. However, if you do transform in front of him and you won’t let him leave (for whatever reason, maybe you’re extra possessive in wolf form or maybe you’re scared he’ll reveal your secret), and he has no choice but to take care of you, then he’ll do it. Reluctantly he’ll take care of you, but only because there’s a chance you can bite his hand off and he doesn’t want that. However, when you’re back to normal, he’ll go back to trying  to get revenge on you. (He won’t use your wolf form against you, because no one’s going to believe him.) Foes he adore it? Not really, he doesn’t care for you and only bothers you because he has control issues.

———————————————————————

Yan Darling; He thinks it’s a cute bonus, he likes to braid your fur and put you in cute dog clothes. When you transform he won’t let anything make you uncomfortable and will only give you the best. After all, you’re his savior and he wants you to know how much he appreciates everything you do. He’ll have you sleep in his bed and he’ll take you on walks. Of course, he pouts when you turn back to normal, mostly because he doesn’t get to dote on you anymore (human you doesn’t like any extra attention). Does he adore it? Absolutely, he loves it and if he had his way, he’d keep you like that for a longer amount of time!

———————————————————————-

As for a Yan made specifically for a werewolf reader, well it would have to be a Yan that’s into a werewolf reader. It’d have to be a Yan that’s into the supernatural and would absolutely utterly adore having a werewolf lover. Especially if you spent all your transformation with him and every other wolf related moment with him. A Yan that’s into the supernatural would probably go out of their way to please a werewolf reader. The Yan would probably gift you collars, dog toys, Gourmet food and everything a little (large) wolf dog would enjoy!

———————————————————————-

Bonus; What the Yans would call werewolf reader;

Yan Crossdresser; would call you my adorable furry little/giant baby and give you ear scratches

Yan Neko; would snarl and call you a filthy disgusting pathetic little mutt then start a fight with you 

Yan Idol; would call you my cute little wolf, but wouldn’t go near you

Yan Baby-sitter; My wonderful/adorable furbaby and would attempt to hug you only for you to growl at him

Yan Cheater; calls you a bad dog when you misbehave and calls you a good dog when you behave

Yan Reader; would never be able to call you anything, but if he could then he’d call you my cute fuzzy friend

Yan Roommate; would call you my big fuzzy baby (even though you aren’t one)

Yan Neighbor; would call you a nuisance dog and lament about the fur your shedding

Yan Emperor; would call you my cute little mutt and my adorable little angel, my strong little furbaby and would just generally call you a good wolf

Yan Duke; would probably call you a good doggo, would also call you my favorite little buddy and my cute cuddly little mutt

1950s Househusband; would also call you a good dog when you behave and a bad dog when you misbehave, but would also call you the cutest wolf in existence 

Yan fickle ex-boyfriend; would simply call you a mutt and get mad at you because you tore up his favorite pillow

Yan Darling; would call you his biggest baby and would call you a furbaby, if he’s mad he’ll call you a bad wolf and lecture you about being on your best behavior

Yan Fan of the Supernatural; would call you the cutest wolf ever and would try to domesticate you every time they saw you

———————————————————————

(Yes, the Yans are intent on domesticating you and yes they do have a dog bowl with your name on it.)

(I hope this fit your request and I apologize if it wasn’t very well written.)

(Hope you enjoyed this, it took me like 3-4 hours to write and I’m kind of proud of it.)

(Anthony wasn’t here and Samuel wasn’t here because they aren’t technically yanderes.)

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #my writing #answer. #question? #not the best #anon #gn reader #fanfic #enjoy this fanfic! #werewolf reader #Not too many colored texts today #Sorry but I’m too tired to do ‘em and there’s too many words #Twentieth Official Post #requested #gender neutral reader #gn reader x yandere #gender neutral reader x yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #my oc Isaiah #Isaiah my oc #alex my oc #julian my oc #adonis my oc #Lucas my oc #My oc Lucas #Erik my oc #My oc Erik #Angelo my oc

[artemis-potnia-theron]

How I perceive different deities' energies

(based on personal experiences)

Apollon ☀️: Light coming up from somewhere deep in the gut. An ache that almost burns. And it might if I stare too long. Swelling gold. A chorus of music too perfect to be written, words that could shatter my tongue if I tried to speak them.

Brigid 🔥: A lump at the back of my throat. Tears in my eyes while I smile. Joy and grief mixed together under my ribcage. Melodies sung through the ages, and through tears. Warmth at my back and a hand on my cheek. Baked bread. Garden herbs. Clear water from a well. An embrace that could last an age.

Nyx 🌌: The low, echoing hum of something eternal. Something too ancient to comprehend and too overwhelming to be perceived. Endless. Ethereal. Peace and chaos. Quiet and thunderous. Coffee. Red wine. Onyx.

The Morrigan 🐦‍⬛: A chant of words I can't understand, spoken in a language I never knew and never forgot. The cold steel of a blade's edge. Sharp, precise, and unwavering. Her language of secrets and ancient knowledge could swallow you whole if you let it.

Hekate 🗝: Whispers. Shadows against candlelight. A flickering flame that knows how to dance in the wind and never extinguish. The smell of old parchment and herbs. A ripple on the water. As intricate and mesmerizing as a spider's web. Silent and sharp like a viper. A bark and a growl heard from somewhere too far away for me to see.

Aine 🧚🏼‍♀️: Sunlight breaking over the surface of a river. Citrus. Wildflowers. Fresh grass. Wind sweeping over a meadow. Chimes. Fruit trees finally coming into bloom. The juice from an apple trickling down my neck. Laughter. So much laughter.

Aphrodite ❤️: Flower petals. Something sweet and soft like honey that trickles down the back of my throat and seeps into my belly. It spreads all through me like starlight trapped in my veins. Bells. Bliss. A want that could dissolve me. A yearning that would hurt if it didn't taste so lovely. The pain feels like a lifetime away.

Tiamat 🐉: Clusters of stars. Endless reflections of light on the water's surface. The deep song of a whale that echoes through the pulse of the sea. An eye that gazes down from the cosmos.

Caer Ibormeith 🦢: A lullaby that has been with me for longer than I know. A kiss pressed to my forehead. That place between sleeping and awake, between real and not. Cool air at twilight. Dew on the glass before sunrise. Clean fabric. A veil. Flying over the world as it sleeps.

Artemis 🦌: Freedom. Breath-taking, devastating freedom. A stag drinking fresh water from a spring. A doe and her fawn, sleeping as the songbirds chirp at dawn. A rush. An absolute rush like mountain air in my blood. Fireflies in an open field. Bones bleaching in the sun. The thrill of a wolf pack chasing its prey. The moon over the ocean at night. Teeth. Bird calls. Wildflowers. A great bear that walks in the stars. Hymns only beasts can sing. Jasmine and animal fur and the midnight air.

#apollo #apollon #brigid #nyx #the morrigan #hekate #hecate #aine #aphrodite #tiamat #caer ibormeith #artemis #diana #hellenic paganism #hellenic polytheism #hellenic gods #hellenic pagan #hellenic pantheon #hellenic polytheist #deity work #deity worship #deity witchcraft #deity devotion #energy work #energy #spirit work #energy perception

[mylove-iv]

❝eyes don't lie.❞

ʚ aged up, botw! link x hyrulean princess, fem! reader ɞ

synopsis: in a sea of people bearing facades, his blue eyes oh so honest enraptures your heart unbeknownst to even yourself.

genres: fluff, romance.

content warnings: implications of mistreatment and a power imbalance, snapping due to frustrations, really messy but pining idiots who've yet to realize that they're pining for each other, longing disguised as helpfulness.

reader specifications: reader was detailed to have rosy cheeks and wears heels.

word count: 2.39k words.

―originally posted on @mydarling-iv, dec. 31, 2023

ʚ masterlist ɞ

The sun warms the skin of your rosy cheeks as it pours from the canopy of leaves overhead. The woods smell of fresh earth as it had just rained prior, allowing the cool air to kiss your nose sweetly.

You've forgone your constraining heels, deciding to go bare foot as you race through the forest, hoping to find a rare herb whose blooming window now only opened.

If you miss such an opportunity, the herb won't bloom until a couple moons later. Such a thought causes you to huff as you continue running, hoping to out run your knight who seems keen on following you.

Besides your soft pants, you hear your assigned knights heavy footfalls. Odd, you think as his foot steps are always so light.

Breaking from the tree line, the morning sun paints you in a golden glow that warms you up, chasing away the chill that was starting to settle in your limbs. You hear the footfalls come closer and you start your sprint once more, being careful with running on a fallen log that acted as a bridge over a small ravine.

"Your highness!" A voice calls out, the familiarity of his voice causes a slight upturn of the corners of your lips.

You're halfway on the large log before you meet sky blue eyes that remind of you clear, cloudless skies that you oh so adore. His cheeks are slightly flushed, his hair windswept from the run from the castle to the forest you've forced him to endure, and yet, his eyes remain kind.

"Ser Link," You hum thoughtfully, borderline coy. "Kind of you to finally join me."

You see Link's nose scrunch slightly, such a small twitch would've gone unnoticed if you haven't been paying close attention as your knight never seems to break character.

Always it seems that he chooses to keep a tight lipped mouth, his face stern, his body rigid as to alway be prepared, and yet, his eyes are such an endless pool of blue that you can read quite well—more likely are allowed to—and only with you, he seems to talk, his words always so soft and endearing.

Even if you cause trouble, like now, where he's to chase after you, or if you were to endanger yourself accidentally, it is never anger or frustration you see in his bluebell eyes, but always worry.

"It's dangerous." His words are curt, yet there's a slight furrow to his eyebrows that will go unnoticed by many. But you aren't like most people, you catch on quick when it comes to his tells and his eyes-

Stars, they're filled with an apparent worry that guilt starts tugging at your soul.

You swiftly turn, resuming your dash to the other side as a flash of lavender and your eyes widen as you see a superbloom of armoranth, a rare commodity even for the likes of the nobility and imperial family as well.

"Princess!" Link calls out worriedly but your feet is already touching the soft grass on the other side of the ravine and only after a few steps away from the log, you turn.

Your eyes widen as you see Link hurriedly crossing the makeshift bridge, his sword strapped to his back as his arms a somewhat raised to help him balance on the log as he hurried to you. His lips are pursed cutely, the furrow between his brows deepening and becoming apparent. Such a sight causes you to smile widely as a sweet laugh tumbles from your lips, being unable to hold it back.

Link's eyes widen as his head snaps quickly to your direction as he stumbles off the log slightly and onto solid ground. You're kind enough to quickly grab ahold of his hand to keep him steady and even kinder to reduce your cackles to soft giggles.

"You must be careful now, Ser Link, I don't want you tripping again." You tease softly as you give him a sweet smile and your knight looks gobsmacked at the sight.

You cough slightly, snapping Link out of his daze before he drops to one knee, keeping your hand in his in a firm yet soft grip that allows you to pull away if you so desire to. He's quiet as his eyes become somewhat sad and you feel bad for teasing him and keeping such a nonchalant facade with him.

┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ

Palace politics and the nobility were unkind, you and Zelda having not been spared from it as the sole heirs to Hyrule. Having been assigned knights against both of your wishes, Zelda was rightfully angered, feeling more constrained by your father's decision.

In a fit of anger, she had urged you to rebel against your knight as you also shouldn't be controlled even more. You sighed, silently promising yourself that you'd be polite to your knight while trying to maintain a facade of indifference to your knight in hopes of quelling your sisters unhappiness.

It was only when Zelda's showcase of her displeasure and unfair treatment directed towards her knight became so blatant that you are reminded to maintain your promise to yourself to treat your own knight with grace.

You recall of the times Link had saved you from your own stupidity so selflessly and without regards to his own safety and it pushes you to soften your cold facade with your knight as he too is only fulfilling his purpose, a royal guard bound by the king's order whose words is absolute.

After arguing with your father about the medical treatment regarding those affected by a sudden winter blight, or therefore lack of, you stormed out of the throne room in anger.

You then callously snapped at Link for no reason as he simply followed you as he usually does to your quarters. In the heat of your frustration, you became blind to his sky blue eyes faltering, hurt flashing through them briefly.

Later that night, going against your father's orders and not informing Link, you sneak out of your room and into the Applean forest. The said forest is a great deal of distance away from the castle but you had caught wind of a great deal of herbs growing there that would effectively help combat the effects of the blight.

Bundling them a handful in a small cloth, you scolded yourself for your harsh words to your knight and promised to make a healing balm composed of the herbs to give to Link as an apology, and to hopefully turn a new leaf as well.

But as you are starting to make your way out of the forest, a loud squeamish squeal rips through the air and your blood chills. From the corner of your eye, you see the red skin of a bokoblin wielding a wooden club.

Chastising yourself for not bringing Link with you, you break into a sprint, the beast giving chase. Breaking out of the the tree line, your heart pounds against your chest but as you gain a decent distance between you and the bokoblin, a chilling sound of a guardian focusing its laser causes your heart to drop.

You look up swiftly, seeing the reddish glow of a guardian going on the offense due to detecting an enemy. A malfunctioning one, Zelda had mentioned some defects. You cursed, biting your bottom lip anxiously as the bokoblin closes in on you and the guardian prepares to fire its beam.

You berate yourself for your unkindness towards Link in your last moments with him and you are forced to come to terms with your untimely death.

Time seems to slow and just as you see the laser make its away to you, a firm yet gentle arm wraps around your waist as your back lands against something solid and warm. The smell of sweet spearmint and earthy pine fills your nose and your body slackens in relief as you recognize this scent—his scent.

"Link." You murmur softly as you turn your head, bearing witness to his skills that rivals none in the kingdom.

He quickly brings the Hylian shield you had gifted to him during his knighthood ceremony and quickly parries the guardian beam causing the large tank of ancient tech to combust immediately before Link tears his arm away from you, choosing to draw his sword and making a quick work of the bokoblin.

Time between you and Link seems to stand still as you stare at his back. Guilt consumes your heart, you worried him horribly this time. Stars, if anything had happened to you, they would've punished Link and ultimately put his head on a pike.

You open your mouth to profusely apologize but Link is quick to bend the knee in front of you, his eyes never leaving yours and you feel horrible when you bear witness to the clear stress and worry swimming in his eyes.

Link gently grasps your hand, squeezing softly that doesn't hurt you in anyway that seems to reassure himself that you're safe and real. "I-.. I know you despise me for restricting your freedom, but please- please, next time if you wish to go out, please take me with you so I am to safeguard you from harm." He looks away, lips pursed softly as his eyes become sullen.

By some instinct—an urge—you cup his face, softly easing him to look at you in the eye once more. You're to speak yet the earnest look in his eyes forces any words to die on your tongue and you're taken off guard with how kind and true your knight is.

"Ser Link, I'm sorry for making you feel as if I despise you. In truth, I don't hate you at all, yet despite that, my actions showed you otherwise, and for that, I apologize. I apologize for snapping at you earlier, and I'm extremely sorry for worrying you with my stupid stunt tonight."

His eyes widen softly, the stars gleam from overhead making them twinkle and the sight seizes your breath. "I'm sorry, Ser Link, for everything." You murmur softly, bowing slightly.

A gentle squeeze to your hand encased in his brings your attention back to him. Your eyes widen from the sight in front of you, your heart stuttering and breath hitching ever so slightly as you see a small smile grace Link's face. He then leans further to place a soft kiss to the back of your balm, his honest eyes never straying from yours.

┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ

Guilt ebbs away at your psyche once more as you recall that you've never apologized for your constant indifference towards him and have actually kept it up.

A grimace itches at your face, "I'm sorry, Ser Link, for the incessant teasing." You sigh meekly, your thumb mindlessly rubbing back and forth on Link's gloved hand.

His eyes widen slightly and you hate yourself even more at the implications—stars, of course he doesn't expect a sincere apology from you as you've gone up and ditched him the second time since the guardian incident!

His reaction bothers you more knowing that the reason why you've began to avoid your knight was because of the constant skips your heart would make whenever you and Ser Link interacted.

Stars, he is your knight and you a princess, never mind your reputation, you'd only sully his and make him a court fool in front of the nobility if you're to pursue him-

You lose yourself to the brewing storm in your mind and ever the observant knight he is, Link notices how your eyes become sullen. He gently squeezes your hand, a move you've become familiar with, and it works as your attention moves back to him.

"Princess, I've no need to forgive you for something that doesn't upset me. I- I'm just glad that you've begun to talk to me comfortably." He murmurs softly and you will your heart to not skip a beat because stars-

His eyes are so blue—an endless sea of honesty and softness that you've come to realize that he's granted only you the privilege of seeing—and the sight has your heart pounding.

A small smile tugs on your lips, "It is one of the many things I can do to make up for how cold and indifferent I've acted towards you, Ser Link." You purse your lips, looking away and Link sees how truly sorry your are in your eyes.

He squeezes your hand once more to get your attention on him once more and the pained smile on your face tugs at his heart strings. "I've constantly taken advantage for your unwavering loyalty, Ser Link. I'm-"

Stars, it truly is upsetting. He is only doing what he is ordered to by your father and you punish him nonetheless? How unkind and unjust for you to treat him like that-

How cruel can you be to someone so innocent in royal affairs? The thought is chilling and it overwhelms your control over your emotions.

A choked gasp leaves your lips as he sees your eyes glaze over with unshed tears. Link is quick to rise, his body moving closer as he patiently waits for your signal.

You catch on and nod despite being unaware of his intentions. Yet from the honest look in his eyes, you realize that you trust the man in front of you wholeheartedly. "I'm sorry for every wrongdoing I've committed against you." You mutter, looking away from him in shame.

Link's hands gently cups your face, and like on the night of the guardian incident, he mimics what you had done and makes you look at him in such a gentle manner that intensifies the ache in your chest.

Your lips are pursed, eyebrows furrowed in guilt, and Link smiles softly to ease your worries. You melt, cheek leaning into his hand as he gently caresses your cheek with the soothing motions of his thumb.

Beautiful. Absolute stunning. Link finds the thought at the forefront of his mind as he looks at you.

"It's okay, princess. Just promise me that you'll allow me to stay by your side." Link murmurs, eyes looking into yours with such a softness that could make you melt even further.

You bring up your hands to cup his as the sweetest smile gracing your face sends his heart racing. "I promise, Link."

© 2024 𝐌𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄-𝐈𝐕. do not copy, repost, share, or translate any of my works to tumblr, social media, and any other websites/platforms.

#𝐢𝐯'𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.°♡༉‧₊ #legend of zelda: gallery of the wilds ༉‧₊˚✧ #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #loz #botw #legend of zeda x reader #breath of the wild x reader #loz link x reader #botw link x reader #link x reader #link x fem reader #link x you #botw link #botw link fluff #botw link angst #botw link smut #link fluff #link angst #link smut #reader insert

[imagines--galore]

||Written In The Stars||

Summary: You had met him in the forest. A meeting that left an impact on you, just as it did. Neither of you escaped unscathed from your encounter. At least your heart didn't. And after that fateful run-in, perhaps it was finally time to bring to light what was clearly written in the stars. Pairing: Legolas x Reader Rating || Genres || Warnings: T. Romance. None. A/N: When I tell you I swooned at the Cinderella bit? I mean I ADORE the live action Disney remake and the dance scene is just gorgeous. Hope you enjoyed it @kililove. Also I couldn't help it! You HAVE to watch that dance to envision the last part of this fic perfectly ok?!

The first time you met him had been a chance affair.

You had been running through the forest, wind whipping through your hair. It was quite the norm to find you racing through the trees of the forest you called home. There was just something freeing about it, with the adrenaline rushing through your body, the wind whipping through your hair, and the near endless shelter of the forest you adored with all your heart.

Lothlórien was truly a place to behold no matter the season. The leaves would dance with the wind, the trees would sing joyful tunes to the morning sun, and lullabies to the moon and stars at night. The flowers would sway in the breeze, the animals would play with no fear of being hunted or coming to any harm. If there were ever to be a place akin to Valinor in Middle-Earth, it would be your home.

As you cleared yet another obstacle in your path, you let out a laugh that echoed against the very leaves of the trees you passed. Your laugh was one of pure joy, of freedom and utter happiness. You felt like you would race off the edge of the world and even then you would keep running because who's to say the world ended there.

And perhaps it was that laugh that pulled him towards you, that compelled him to halt whatever he had been doing and his head to instead follow the sound of your laughter, echoing as you raced away.

Any other person would've dismissed it and went back to their task, but not this listener. He was curious. Curious to know who would laugh like that while racing through the trees. A laugh so full of joy in such dark times. Surely this person had only ever known joy and nothing more. Sorrow, hopelessness, loss, none of these words could ever be associated with a person with such a laugh.

Little did he know why you laughed so. He would come to know later, much later, all that you had suffered, all that you had lost, all that you would loose. But despite it all, you never lost your will to live, and live happily. Live to enjoy everything around you. From the smallest of flowers, to the grandest of trees, nature brought you a sense of joy that nothing ever had.

Well that is until you met him.

You saw him from the corner of your eyes, a figure of gold and green that ran a few paces to your right. He had given no indication for you to stop, not that you were about to. You kept running, hair flying behind you, skirts ripped to allow your legs better movement, cheeks flushed, eyes bright as you turned you gaze ahead.

For him you were something akin to a wild thing as you raced through the forest. Free and untamed, like the horses he had seen racing in the fields of Rohan. He was barely able to make out your face, and wanting to look at you properly moved to step in your path.

But you quickly evaded him, all but dancing out of his way, jumping over a fallen tree, and continuing.

And so began a little dance.

One where he would try to get you to stop, but you would always change course and dash off. You should've found it annoying, and perhaps a little alarming that an elf was chasing you. But you didn't.

In your heart of heart you somehow knew he meant no harm. You had even allowed yourself to laugh at his failed attempts, a laugh that only prompted him to increase his efforts tenfold.

And not just because he wanted to stop you. But because if his attempts would make you laugh so, then he would gladly do so over and over.

Just to hear that sweet sound again.

Perhaps Lothlórien had traces of old magic left, something that was effecting his mind.

As he rounded a large tree, intent on stopping you once more, he skidded to a halt at the sight that greeted him.

You stood at the very edge of a cliff, your back to him, gazing out at the near endless landscape as it sprawled in front of you. The setting sun cast the last of it's warm glow, the wind blowing softly, prompting you to inhale deeply, closing your eyes, and holding out your arms at your sides. Almost as if you were embracing the very beauty of the nature around you.

He stood a few paces behind you. The very scene would remain with him till the end of days was something akin to ethereal. For him, everything in that moment was just that, ethereal. But none more so then you.

He had no idea who you were. For all he knew, you could be a mirage created from the very deepest recesses of his heart. What he did know, was that the moment he had heard your laugh, before he had even laid eyes on you, he had begun to feel his soul slip away from him.

And when you finally, finally, turned your head ever so slightly to look at him over your shoulder, he felt the very essence of his soul, his fëa, leave him to bind itself to you forever.

While he struggled to keep his composure, given how intense the moment was for him, you couldn't help but wander if perhaps your heart was beating so fast because you had just been running, or because it was beating so fast that it was trying to tell you something.

To tell you that the elf who had run after you and beside you, was the other half of your fëa.

Neither of you spoke a word, not as the sun disappeared and the stars peeked out. Not as the forest around you began to come alive with the creatures of the night. Not even when the moon shone down, bathing her cold yet somehow gentle glow on the both of you.

You were each lost. Lost in each other. It was almost as if you could read his heart and mind, and he could do the same to you. You could see his bravery, his loyalty, his kindness, his weaknesses and strength. And him? He could see your empathy, your joy, your devotion, your fears and resilience.

You were the one to make the first move. One step forward. A movement that he matched. One foot in front of the other, the wind blowing softly, pushing your hair back from your faces, the moonlight allowing your elvish features to glow in the dark. You were both only three feet away.

Two.

One.

A brief pause where you were almost nose to nose, your eyes never leaving the other's.

Intense.

Wanting.

Passionate.

Adoration.

Heated.

How were you able to convey all that and more with just that one look, you had no idea.

But then it was over.

You walked past him, slowly picking up speed, until you were running once more.

And this time, he did not follow.

                                             ————————–

You never forgot him.

He never forgot you.

You knew him by name, he was a Prince after all, and a member of the Fellowship.

All he knew about you, was the color of your hair, how expressive your eyes had been, and how, in his eyes, you were the very image of perfection.

He did not follow you that night. Not when he could not make any promises. Not when he had a mission to see to.

Legolas had often wandered what awaited him beyond the destroying of the ring, should he survive. He had no desire to go back home. And while he had made plans to travel Middle-Earth with Gimli once Aragorn was King, it never felt right in his heart.

And as he walked out of the Citadel, where the newly crowned Aragorn, and his Queen Arwen, were dancing so joyfully, he began to envision his own mysterious lady. The one he had met in Lothlórien.

The Lady.

Who was never far from his thoughts.

Who occupied his heart.

Who held his entire soul and had no inclination of it.

He could still picture her so clearly in his mind, he mused as he walked past the blooming tree in the middle of the courtyard.

You standing there at the edge of the cliff. Unconsciously his gaze lifted to the very end of the walkway along which he strolled.

An elleth with y/h/c hair, strangely the same color the figure standing at the end of the walkway possessed.

A figure, dressed in a blue dress, a color that reminded him of open skies during the day and the twinkling stars at night.

.

.

.

.

He stopped.

His eyes widened.

His heart quickened.

His fëa rejoiced.

His feet catapulted him forward.

The figure had her arms open. And while the last time those arms had been open to embrace nature, this time they were open to embrace him.

And while the last time the both of you had walked past one another, wanting, no yearning, for the other, this time it was different.

You watched him dash closer, you stumbled a few steps forward, until finally, you had him in your arms.

Neither of you knew how long you stood there for. Minutes. Hours. Days. Months. Years. Eons.

It was all the same.

"It would seem our meeting was written in the stars." His voice was low and gentle, prompting a warmth to race through your entire body as you hummed in agreement.

"The stars in my dreams were the ones who told me to come find you tonight." You responded, a dream you had had not so long ago coming to the forefront of your mind. "I was flying. On a Star. And it told me it would take me to you."

He joined your laughter, the both of you still holding each other close. Now though, he pulled back so he could look at you, his arms still wrapped around your waist, while yours laid over his shoulders.

"And here you are." He whispered, his gaze searching yours.

You gave a nod and a smile. "Here I am." You reassured him, leaning to press your forehead against his.

The music from the open door of the Citadel was perhaps what compelled him to lean back slightly. While your arms dropped to the side, one of his hands never left your back.

Your eyes never broke their intense stare as the both of you, slowly, began to dance to the song filtering from the Citadel.

You danced, and you danced, and you danced.

Your need to be close to him over-powered all else. His need to touch you overtook any sense of decorum he had.

Neither of you spoke a word, and yet you didn't think anything needed to be said. Not when your eyes spoke for you. Not when your Fëa sang to one another.

You were sure of what you felt for him, and he was sure that his heart belonged to you.

And as the new dawn greeted you with her warm glow, you finally allowed your eyes to close, an act he mirrored.

Before sealing that unspoken promise to never leave each other with a kiss that was more binding and irrevocable, then any vow a living being could make.

#legolas x y/n #legolas x reader #legolas x oc #legolas greenleaf #legolas #lord of the rings imagine #lord of the rings #orlando bloom

[atopvisenyashill]

the chapter i’m on - asos sansa ii - is interesting bc it’s cited as an instance of sansa being cruel, classist, a bully, whatever, in her thoughts of arya but that is such a surface level reading it’s maddening to think people look at it that way.

sansa isn’t thinking “i’d much rather have margaery as a sister” she’s thinking around how much she grieves for arya, and her own guilty feelings over not seeing through joffrey quick enough. it’s really clear:

“how can i let my sister marry joffrey” she thinks as she’s crying, just seconds after thinking about arya and attempting to distance herself from hurtful memories. she’s not just scared for margaery, she is thinking of arya in margaery’s place. she is thinking of how joffrey hurt arya and how sansa had stood there and yelled at arya, not joffrey (which i don’t think is a failing of hers; a drunk 11 year old reacting badly to a wildly stressful situation is not a moral failing). she’s thinking about how she can’t stand there and do nothing again when she can save margaery the way she couldn’t save arya and all she has to do is speak up.

she’s just not saying it directly because she deals with stress by repressing her memories. she thinks around a stressful subject instead of naming it in her mind. thinking of arya and the possibility that she’s dead and the last time they spoke they were fighting, all of that is too painful, so instead she focuses on wanting to protect margaery.

then, with arya on her mind, she finally lets herself acknowledge some of her pain while she’s alone:

“sometimes there was even a girl who looked like arya” is the point of this chapter! she has sons to please willas but the little girl she imagines with him belongs to sansa and sansa alone. and in her dreams, that girl looks like the sister she’s lost. in her dreams, her entire family is reunited. in her dreams, she realized joffrey was a monster earlier and she saves arya and lady and nymeria from him and she gets to be the brave, noble lady of her songs.

the crazy thing is that this has happened before and people understood it then: ned does this constantly.

the most obvious one comes early and you can see clearly he does the exact same thing of thinking around who his thoughts have really strayed to:

“you can’t get your hands on this one, can you?” he is clearly thinking about jon. he is testing to see if robert has changed any over the years, if maybe jon isn’t in that much danger and ned had just discredited robert’s heart too much over the years. only for robert to rage about dany, justify the butchering of elia & her babies, and confirm all of ned’s worst fears are still true. jon will never be safe in westeros if his identity were to be known and ned made the right decision to lie all these years. it’s such an important scene in establishing ned’s character and the show does an equally good job of implying what ned is really thinking.

Beyond being an excellent masterclass in acting during this scene, it comes immediately after Ned has said goodbye to Jon and promised they’d speak of his mother when they reunite. There’s a clear link that we’re meant to make between the scene before and this one despite Ned steadfastedly refusing to think Lyanna or Jon’s names. It’s the same with Arya; we’re meant to link Sansa’s sudden terror for Margaery with her feelings for Arya.

With both Ned and Sansa, a lot of their true thoughts are in what they don’t think and not what they tell you they’re thinking. They lie to themselves and they lie to you and the “trap” is to recognize this and piece together how they really feel.

#valyrianscrolls #rani liveblogs asoiaf #sansa stark #ned stark #fathers and daughters #sisters #sansa x arya #getting on my soap box #the sun and moon in endless chase

[soleilnomoon]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･titled — “lady(bug) killer.”

9k words (shh i know i know), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; angst city, there’s fluff somewhere somehow i think, smut obviously; shanks is a bully and an ass but that’s why we love him, reader has no self-preservation (when has she ever lbr); feat. cute stuff like making out, alcohol, some smoking, oral (f receiving), biting, reader being shameless; shanks is mean when he’s jealous and reader is equally as ridiculous, also benn beckman, yasopp, and lucky roux make a tiny cameo. anyway this was 1000% self-indulgent, but idc.

this is for @strawhatsoraya, and even though it’s *calculates* 7? months late ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ lmaooo i finished bb, a labor of love for u because i’m absurd and u enable me. don’t blame me for nothin, i did what i could!!! (if u see typos/grammatical errors no u didn’t.)

DELUSION X IS X INEVITABLE

the seas are not, and never have been, kind — nor are they patient. weakness is rarely tolerated, so to combat that, to give yourself some semblance of strength, you tell yourself stories in the hopes of extracting a bit of courage. there’s one in particular that you like to tell yourself when things get to be a little too much.

it’s about the impossible love between the sun and the moon — the two seemingly trapped in an endless cycle of cat and mouse, chasing one another across the skies for eternity.

golden-hued, dazzling, brilliant; a deity above all others with a kingdom as expansive as its reach — grand and all encompassing. the sun is a powerful, overwhelming force of nature, able to disrupt the earth as he sees fit, his heat infiltrating any crevice it can find with each new day. the stars serve as reluctant guides, leaving behind crumbs for the sun to follow. they’re much too quick, twinkle out of sight, and the moon is nowhere to be seen. she’s a shadow, a mirage, an entity that’s completely out of the sun’s reach no matter what he does.

the moon, in contrast, is serene when in rest, shimmering proudly in the dark sky — illuminating the seas for wayward sailors, dreams, and the like. calm, the epitome of grace, yet unyielding; forever dictating the tides as she sees fit. there’s a sharpness to her beauty; it’s cold and unapproachable — a single rare flower that blooms nightly in the sky, her spores a sweet poison that serves to ensnare unsuspecting stargazers, adding yet another devoted follower to her massive collection. a hopeless romantic deep down, admiring the blazing trail that the sun leaves behind. fear forces the moon to hesitate, never to embrace the sun’s brilliance and warmth.

despite being the biggest star hanging in the sky, the sun remains out of the moon’s reach; and despite priding herself on her uncanny ability to pluck the truth from anyone, she conveniently evades revealing her own dark truths.

the ocean is a reluctant playground, her mirror of truth; if the moon looks hard enough, she can see the golden light from the sun touching the water. if she hangs back, then maybe she might be able to grab onto some of that warmth. she’s always so cold. it’s evident in how she approaches life. her rage is frigid, hidden, forbidden from ever coming out; a stated beauty from afar, breathtaking and life changing up close.

everyone is too afraid to approach her; no one wants to risk her wrath — except the sun.

where the sun chases away his own shadows, the moon welcomes them. there’s poetry in the dance they do; a ballet in several parts — steps light and well-rehearsed, as the stars play a sweet, melancholic melody. it’s indescribable; a work of art fit to inspire the masses.

ascending along the expansive sky, the sun begins his rhythmic march, reveling in the sparkling remnants of light that moon has left behind. it’s always been said that the sun lusts after the moon, but it’s not quite as simple as that. the moon leads the dance — measured, practiced, perfect; while the sun clumsily follows along, sure-footed, and honest. a never-ending cycle of what ifs and maybes; a love affair that is in a deadly, hypnotic loop.

yours is a story about love, about life, and about losing bits of yourself in someone else.

shanks has always been fond of the sun, of its power, its size, and its impact on life; he’s always reached his arms out every morning, soaking up as much of the warmth and heat as he can, forever rejuvenated by its light. you have always favored the moon — its eerie silence, the way life seems to hold its breath for it, how you can gaze at it without consequence.

both of you are fueled by the whims of their love — the former a frenetic storm, hounding islands and ships, dangerous when provoked; the latter a frozen lake, one step and the ice cracks on the shallow surface, pulling bright-eyed victims deep under, freezing them from head to toe.

in stories of antiquity, the two never truly meet, but somehow in this story, you and shanks experience what may be considered the most difficult sort of love to bear. potentially ill-fated and destined to fail, you delude yourself into thinking that you can have the entirety of his heart and not suffer any consequences. there’s no greater love than the one you desperately want to attain and can’t; it’s an addicting cycle that neither of you want to break.

PASSION X NOT X PAIN

from your father you learn obstinance; it’s carefully woven into your daily routines, each stitch tighter than the last, the thread unbelievably strong even as it’s pulled taut underneath your skin. by the time it reaches your bones, you’re already well into adulthood, fragility and naivety carelessly discarded, the remains intentionally desiccated, crumbling underneath your feet as you navigate through life. a never-ending labyrinth of torment and desire, a hunger for the unknown gnawing continuously in the pit of your stomach.

from your mother you learn humility; a tradition, she tells you, but adds as an afterthought: an eternal obligation. it sits on your shoulders, weighing you down, making you question every decision and thought. you never say what you truly mean, never ask for the things you want; resentment lines the crevices of your teeth, dictating your tone and choice of words. your tongue a maestro, pushing out each phrase with purpose; every word pinpricks your skin — a dull, cumbersome pain chipping away at your sanity.

you become obsessed with spontaneity, rejecting routines, and deviating from the norm. they can never keep you indoors long enough; you’re usually climbing something, running somewhere — enticed by the possibility of adventure. you leave your hometown to travel across the grand line, staying on various islands for months at a time — to learn about regional dishes and cultivate your skills.

your heart, unfortunately, has always been a flighty thing — falling in and out of love, leading you down a treacherous path, one that leaves a deep scar you can’t seem to heal no matter what you do. still, you fortify yourself any way you can; it’s not permanent, but it does the job somewhat effectively.

like clockwork, you find yourself in the middle of a busy street, perusing the market. you look over a round, shiny apple before buying a few to take home. unbeknownst to you, your day will quickly derail, bringing about impossibly rash decisions on your part.

as usual, it takes forever to dock the ship; he doesn’t even bother yelling t the new recruits, because he’s trying to ignore the hangover that’s kicking his ass right now. yasopp is cackling off to his right, tears flowing freely as he recants drunken tales from last night. he’d love to join his friend in all that revelry, but there’s a pounding in his head that won’t quite go away.

shanks downs another cool glass of water before loudly announcing that they need to find provisions before heading to their next destination.

the island isn’t hard to navigate, so they wander until they reach the lively town. it’s when you’re fussing with a vendor over the outrageous price for a small bottle of seasoning, that shanks notices you for the first time. as someone who takes pride in swallowing a great deal of pain without complaint, he’s finding it very difficult to not rub his chest — to somehow calm down that foolish heart of his.

it’s doing things it’s never done before; beating much too loudly, making his thoughts scatter around — it’s bothersome and he doubts he has time to deal with it. he almost voices that very sentiment out loud, but is distracted by your smile, which makes him take another step forward. then you’re laughing, another ordeal for him to suffer through — your voice melodic and hypnotizing.

shanks rubs his eyes repeatedly, blinking away any residual fatigue; surely it’s the fault of the bourbon they drank, because he must be dreaming. it wouldn’t be the first time he’s mistaken a dream for reality, although this strangely feels real to him. he’s not sure if it’s the shape of your jaw, or the roundness of your cheeks, but there’s something wholly familiar about you. he frowns at that, brings his hand to his chest to rub the ache away. it’s beckman who catches up with him first, dark eyes landing on shanks for a moment before following his line of sight.

throat dry, head a little fuzzy, shanks asks, “do you see her?”

the question is absurd, but he has to know; and even though it takes a moment, beckman finally answers him. “yes,” he says, voice low but certain, “she’s real, captain.”

he has no need to shop for vegetables, but winds up at the same stall as you. if he wasn’t so damn obvious, you probably wouldn’t have said anything — except, he’s crowding your space a little too much; but when you turn to tell him off, you hesitate. there’s no reason for him to be that tall, no reason for his ruggedness to add to his overall attractiveness — enough to incite irritation, that makes your face burn and siphons all your logic. his voice is doubly offensive — deep, husky, and gravelly, touching parts of you that you don’t want to think about.

what starts as a friendly conversation — of him asking about local cuisine, of you giving him recommendations on dishes to try — somehow morphs into shanks teasing you as if he’s known you for much longer than ten minutes. you’re not normally this social, preferring to keep to your own so that you won’t be bothered by people in general. the townspeople are more than friendly, and a little too overwhelming to be around; yet you don’t mind talking to him and find that it’s nearly impossible to pull yourself away.

fear — of vulnerability and intimacy — threads itself around your fingers, makes your hands shake as you hold onto your bags.

eventually, you give in and grace him with your name. he says it a few times, mostly to himself and you dislike the way you stand there, listening to him — caught in a thick net, completely unaware that the fortress you’ve built over the years has completely fallen apart. a terrifying feat, you think; one that makes you want to run until your legs give out. intrigued by your stubbornness and insatiable curiosity, shanks decides to stay on the island a little longer. his crew doesn’t mind, they like the break. yasopp tries to pry for more information, but shanks simply says he wants to relax for a bit.

it doesn’t take long for them to chisel away at your reluctance, a friendship that buds and transforms quickly. against your better judgment, you grow fond of them — with their rowdiness and frank manner of speech, with their crude jokes and ability to turn any gathering into a large party. adventurers and treasure fiends, a group with monstrous strength, not the sort of people your parents would’ve expected you to hang around.

and maybe that’s why you hardly resist their charm — or, his charm, you should say. because that’s what it really is, much to your disapproval.

you offer to cook for them one night, and after the first bite shanks asks you to join his crew. your initial refusal is met with a frown on his part; he insists that you join them — one can never have too many chefs on board, and lucky roux has already taken a liking to you. still, you refuse; and when shanks asks you the following morning, you refuse again.

there’s no real reason why you keep saying no. it’s mostly because you like seeing how frustrated he gets, where he huffs about it all damn day, claiming you’ve broken his heart for the fiftieth time that week. the best part is how his crew mates make fun of him for being rejected by you again.

he takes it all in stride, though — laughing along with everyone else, ordering another round of drinks. as wary as the townspeople were by shanks’ presence initially, they’ve come to appreciate his generous patronage. it’s not often that pirates settle in a specific area for longer than a few days, but shanks is determined not to leave without you. he’s not exactly sure why he feels compelled to take you along, and while a few of his crew mates have some sound theories as to why that is, he ignores them completely.

it's beckman who manages to convince you after eating a third lemon square; he’s impressed by your talent for creating delicate and delicious pastries, even more so by the fact that shanks to enjoy eating them more than he should.

“he doesn’t really care for sweets,” beckman says carefully, sipping his tea slowly, enjoying the warmth wafting from the hot drink.

you know better than to ask, but the question rolls off your tongue anyway. “who doesn’t?” you feign ignorance, fuss with a stray curl, tugging and playing with it while he eyes you critically.

the vice-captain reminds you that you can only travel so far along the grand line alone; and he’s right, you came to terms with that a while ago. it’s an opportunity for adventure, and a chance to hone your skills.

“fine,” you say, while crossing your arms, leaning forward on your chair. “how much?” not that you really care about the money, but they’re pirates — notorious ones, at that — you won’t risk your life sailing with them if the reward isn’t worth it.

a small smile works its way onto his lips as he motions for you to scoot closer. you oblige without hesitation but end up hopping out of your seat when he whispers the amount in your ear.

“that’s a lot of fucking money.” you almost don’t believe it, but beckman isn’t the childish sort, nor does he lie for the sake of lying. you swallow hard and don’t bother acting coy. “when do we leave?” it’s not exactly the sort of job you’d place on a resume, but you can’t say you aren’t excited to traverse across the ocean.

shanks offers more gold than necessary, but you’re not one to complain, nor do you care about bleeding a pirate dry of his stolen treasure. he decides to spend one final night on the island, so naturally his crew throws a large feast in celebration. you doubt you’ll ever get tired of their impromptu parties, or the raucous way they laugh and sing, voices carrying out into the sleepy streets. the energy is addictive and hard to escape; you soak it all up, allow it to loosen your bones. you laugh and drink with the others but keep your distance from a certain red-haired captain. you’re not sure how to be around him, especially now that you’ve accepted his invitation after fighting him for so long about it.

it’s completely by chance that you spot shanks near the bonfire; you think you’re being subtle when you watch him from afar, admiring the way his throat bobs when he tilts his head back to down a full glass of liquor. the fire emits a deep glow, one that extracts a memory from the back of your mind — oranges and yellows draping over him, an enigma that will always remain out of your reach no matter how hard you try.

the truth of it sits on your tongue — raw and distressing — so you down a shot of whiskey and maneuver through the crowd of people to find a place to sit and rest.

yassop and lucky roux tease shanks mercilessly throughout the day, so much that he ends up smoking more than he means to. a light haze clouds his rationality, and he mumbles under his breath, which only makes them laugh louder, pointing out his plight for all to hear. no matter how much he denies it, or how much he tells them that they’re full of shit, the story remains the same: boss has fallen in love. it’s annoying, to say the least. just because he feels calmer whenever you’re around, and just because his heart continues to beat louder — heavy, relentless, and unsettling — doesn’t mean that he’s fallen in love with you.

if anything, it means he needs to get off this damn island quickly. “it’s probably something in the water,” he tells himself. no need to stay long enough to carry it with him elsewhere.

a few hours later, nearly everyone is passed out, either from drinking or eating or both — and shanks, unfortunately, can’t seem to sleep. neither can you. he finds you walking alone on the beach, sandals in hand, humming something soft and familiar. before he can even make his presence known, you look over at him and a smile tugs on your lips. you’re not sure what compels you, but the sight of him standing there, watching you like you’re some sight to behold — and if anyone asked him at that exact moment, he would say that yes, you are — invites a small warmth to circle around your chest. an irresistible flame that grows hotter the closer he gets.

OBSESSED X & X IRRITABLE

what starts as subtle flirting rife with teasing jokes and lingering touches, turns into something frighteningly intense. shanks routinely teases you in front of everyone, and while you’re embarrassed by it sometimes, you actually like it. there’s a push and pull, where you also have him backed into a corner that he can’t escape from with his sanity intact.

shanks starts being more bold when he touches you, kissing you randomly in hallways when no one’s looking, his hand roaming down to your ass and squeezing it playfully. the rush makes everything worth it; he likes the way you push him away, and you like the way he chases you. if he knew that you’d fallen in love some time ago, he’d never let you live it down. his touches make your skin hot and your head fuzzy, leaving you light-headed and wanting for more. after a few months, though, he’s still given you no indication on whether this is a casual thing or something more.

you’re too afraid to ask at this point, always losing your nerve when he sweet talks you late at night. you swallow back your questions, but they pile up eventually, until you can’t take it anymore. after that stunt he pulled in that pub, he drunkenly tells yasopp to make up a shirt for you that says “angry when wet” on the front. your face burns, both in anger and in embarrassment when you receive the gift, and shanks laughs loudly when you throw the shirt at his face. he confesses that he forgot he even asked for yasopp to do that, which only makes him laugh harder.

in a fit of fury, you tell shanks that you refuse to have sex with him and that he has to keep his hands to himself. for a month, at least. he figures you’re all talk and only agrees to it because you’re so determined and cute when you’re angry like that. when the others find out about the ban, they ridicule their captain mercilessly. he tries to act unaffected, but something about the way you insist on seeing this ban through rubs him the wrong way.

it’s been twenty-two — no, twenty-three — days, and you’re barely keeping it together. shanks thinks it’s hilarious that you believe he’ll cave before you do; and you’re determined to make him suffer. now granted, you are to blame for the predicament you found yourself in just a month prior — even now, you still suffer from that embarrassment — when shanks fucked you in the back of that dingy pub.

they’ve all taken to calling you ladybug — bug, for short; something shanks thought up in the moment, spurned by yasopp’s laughter at the matter. and despite fighting against it initially, the nickname grows on you. shanks appears every bit as unaffected as he always does, still flirting with you whenever he can, but respecting your wishes all the same. regardless of that, he still finds ways to get under your skin. it’s your hope that holding out will make shanks realize that he wants you in a deeper way than just physical intimacy.

you should just let him go and move on, but you can’t. he always pulls you back, always finds a way to make you smile — the warmth from his presence is enough to burn you alive most days — and you find yourself wrapped up in him without realizing. incidentally, shanks also can’t let you go, and never intends to anyway. he’s a selfish creature by nature, not cognizant enough to recognize his own role in that.

on a sleepy morning, you take your time and carefully bake pastries for the crew. last night you promised them something tasty and sweet — your specialty, really — and they’ve given you room to work without interruption. as a chef for the red-hair pirates, you take pride in your work; in feeding the crew, in ensuring that they eat well-balanced meals that give them strength and energy. shanks has always been in awe of your talent — your hands are delicate and exact, skilled laborers that make brilliant works of art whenever you’re in the kitchen.

you’re humming a nameless tune to yourself, cutting up strawberries neatly, as another person silently invades your small sanctuary. while you wash your hands in the sink, shanks approaches you and a sudden awareness makes you freeze. his body barely touches yours, but he reaches over you to crab a cup out of the cabinet above your head. given the difference in your height, it always seems like he’s crowding you without trying. although in this instance, he’s intentionally doing so.

a groan rolls out of your mouth, frustration eating away at the remainder of your patience. you’ve been giving him short answers lately, barely looking at him — although, that isn’t exactly true; you’ve stolen more glances than you can count over the past month — so whenever he can, he finds ways to tease you mercilessly.

“oops,” his hand lowers so he can rinse out the cup, “didn’t mean to interrupt you, doll.”

teeth sinking into your bottom lip, you count to ten, breathe out of your nose and smile tightly. “uh huh,” his body is still much too close for your liking, “just make it fast.”

a sly grin, one that you can’t see, drifts onto his lips. “you know i can never turn down a quick fuck.”

you slap his hand, make him drop the cup into the sink, and spin around to face him. your face burns painfully, the flush a permanent fixture now that he’s moved on from light teasing, to full out being insufferable around you. “shanks, enough.” you shove his chest, much to his amusement, his eyes gleaming with mischief, but you can’t exactly look at him properly, can you? and when you manage to get over a bit of your embarrassment, manage to look up at him through your thick, dark lashes, you struck by his stupidly handsome face. despite his rugged exterior, you know there’s a gentleness that periodically comes out when the two of you are together.

an unexpected ache plagues your chest and you ignore it; but you miss touching his scars, miss kissing him and being kissed by him. he already smells like smoke and bourbon, a scent that you’ve come to covet over the past few weeks.

belatedly, shanks realizes that he miscalculated; your beauty still takes his breath away, especially when you’re this close to him. his eyes drift along your soft, round features, linger on your plump lips — where he’s suddenly overcome with the desire to trace your cupid’s bow with his fingers — and stare a little too hard at your neck that’s been blemish free for a while. a shame, really, as he likes when your neck shows proof of his affection for you. if he’s not careful, he’ll get sucked back into your orbit; as always, your brown eyes — intense, unyielding, a fusion of dulce de leche and tree bark — keep him rooted in place. your dark, curly hair continues to remind him of a storm that he desperately wants to navigate alone.

caught in a daze, he almost forgets that you’re mad at him, until you roll your eyes and push past him. he watches you languidly, completely smitten with you all over again, eyes transfixed on your retreating form — round ass and thick, curvy hips captivating him entirely.

you stomp away and leave the pastries to their own devices, reeling over the fact that shanks had the audacity to say that to you. but as you keep walking, the brisk morning air whipping around you, you realize you’re not upset because he said it. you’re upset because he didn’t actually try to fuck you in the kitchen.

a shame, you know, but you can’t help the thought.

it’s becoming more and more apparent now that you might be the only one suffering from this ban. you decide you need a better plan, one that is strong enough to withstand shanks’ careless attitude, one that might just push him to the edge.

a childish impulse strikes you, and you opt to give him the silent treatment, which only further amuses him. he watches you lazily, grinning each time you turn your nose up and stomp past him. you make it so easy he doesn’t even have to try riling you up. you ignoring him isn’t much of a big deal — so he tells himself — but when he sees just how friendly the crew is with you, something sinister builds inside the pit of his abdomen and works its way up to his chest. when you head back to finish working in the kitchen, he tells his crew that he’s implementing a new rule.

“no one,” he says, after gathering everyone else, surveying his crew mates critically, eyes particularly landing on yasopp and benn beckman, “touches ladybug. understood?”

they all agree, although beckman, lucky roux, and yasopp pull him aside to ask what this new rule is all about. shanks being shanks, playfully waves them off and starts drinking instead. beckman exchanges wary glances with the others, but they don’t push the issue. every time you try to get closer to someone — whether it’s a crew mate, or an overly friendly resident of a sea faring town — he finds a way to sabotage, laughing as you eye him angrily, hands balled into small fists, which only makes him laugh more.

THREE’S X A X CROWD

part of your duties is to accompany the crew as they go into town to scope out any local fruits and vegetables that you want to try. you like talking with the townspeople, like getting their insight on their regional dishes. you just live for the thrill of creating new, exciting meals and want your crew mates to feel the love that you pour into everything you make for them.

on a particular island, the ship is docked far enough away to not attract too much attention. there aren’t any major navy bases nearby, but one can’t be too careful in the new world, can they? there’s a festival in town, one that they keep advertising for. you catch wind and want to go, but shanks decrees that only a portion of the crew is allowed to disembark, while the others stand by on the ship. too many pirates traversing through the island will set off alarms; thankfully, the island is partial to the patronage of pirates, so they aren’t too upset that shanks’ crew has docked there.

somehow, you’re part of the group designated to stay on the ship, much to your annoyance. you try to plead with beckman, even go as far as pouting your lips, but he doesn’t budge. “captain’s orders,” which seems to be the norm these days. and when he sees the way your shoulders drop, he says, a little quietly, “sorry bug.” you know they’re just going to drink and act foolish on land, so you wait and take your time dressing up.  you have an actual reason for wanting to go into town; you need ingredients and don’t trust the others to shop properly for you, so you take matters into your own hands.

no one dares to stop you as you make your way off the ship; you tell the others you’ll be right back, and of course they believe you — why would you lie to them?

and you’re not lying, per se, you do want to get ingredients — although that isn’t your primary focus at the moment.

the festival is loud and seemingly merry with alcohol and food everywhere. thankfully the music makes the shitty alcohol taste better. shanks sits at a large table with the others, drinking, smoking, laughing as various people fawn over him and feed him cut up pieces of fruit. flirtatious by nature, he doesn’t even blink when they allow their delicate fingers to linger on his lips, or when they whisper things in his ear, or when they take turns to perch themselves on his lap.

for some reason, despite knowing that he should, he isn’t exactly stopping their advances.

guilt eats away at his crew mates at the sight of shanks on his usual path of self-destruction; yasopp tries to get him to see reason, beckman too, but he waves them off, saying he can do as he pleases. which only tells him that he’s still annoyed about you not talking to him properly these days. and, despite him not openly saying it, he’s suffering too.

you have fun watching the fireworks for a while, mesmerized by the loud explosions of color decorating the sky; before long, you find yourself in the middle of all the festivities, humming to yourself as you scope out the stalls. you get swept up into a small crowd of people and get turned around when you slip away. as you try to catch your bearings, you hear a familiar laugh and, on instinct, follow the sound of his voice.

while standing off to the side, you watch shanks and the others, heart beating far too loud for comfort. your hands ball into fists all over again, and you sink your nails into your palms when another woman drapes herself over shanks, giddy and tipsy, blushing every time he smiles her way. you know he’s just doing this because he’s pissed off at you, and rather than get sad, you decide to head to the pub and drink.

three drinks later, you saunter back out into the night and join the festival. you enjoy the way the music thrums underneath your skin, the beat thumping in your veins; a cool breeze travels nearby, making you feel light-headed. you forgot how freeing it is to be on your own — without a group of people to worry about, and a selfish captain who tramples over your heart and feelings repeatedly with his blasé attitude. maybe it would be better to just leave? but, the more you think about it, the more your head hurts, so you decide you’d rather enjoy yourself for a bit before heading back to the ship.

the alcohol makes you bolder than usual, and you’re all smiles with flushed cheeks when the vice-captain runs into you on his way to get more food. an incredibly foolish, petty idea crawls into your mind — it barely sits long enough before you act impulsively again.

“what are you doing here, bug?”

you simply shrug, as if you’ve embarked on an innocent expedition and didn’t expect to see him. beckman doesn’t buy the act one bit and pulls you into a nearby alley to talk with you privately. sighing loudly, he fixes you with a steely glare. “you’re suppose to be on the ship,” he says carefully, “d’you know how much trouble you’ll be in if shanks sees you here?” there’s no reason for him to tell you that, but you can’t fault him for trying to be nice. still, the idea of shanks thinking he can just dictate how you live your life, pushes you closer to the edge with your sanity barely intact.

and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “i am not a child,” you say angrily; your annoyance has reached the point of no return, so you let the irritation flow freely and allow it to fuel your pettiness. beckman pauses for a moment before chuckling darkly, shaking his head at your antics. from the determination on your face, and the way you don’t seem to want to budge on the issue, he can understand why shanks is so smitten with you — in fact, everyone on their crew understands — so he relents.

“fine, i’ll accompany you, then.”

you hadn’t expected him to offer, and you feel the tension leave your body slowly. maybe you were overreacting a bit, and maybe you just need to relax and enjoy the night like everyone else. you visit several stalls and shop around for a bit; you like the vice-captain’s company as he doesn’t say much, nor does he complain when you make him try various sweets to see which ones you should recreate. and while you might not intend to, you can’t help but flirt with him a little — touching his arm, laughing at his dry humor, standing much closer than necessary. beckman knows what you’re doing, but he doesn’t stop you; maybe shanks will get his act together if he thinks he has competition. you doubt he will, but it’s always worth a try, right?

DIAMOND X IN THE X ROUGH

after a while, the merriment feels stale; shanks’ laughter is hollow, forced, and unbecoming. and while on the surface it looks like he’s soaking up all the attention that’s being given to him, he’s not happy about it at all. a small frown works its way onto his lips as he tries to work out the cause of his unhappiness, completely ignoring his role in all of this. he’s not sure what’s missing — or, rather, he’s sure, but he just doesn’t want to say it out loud. that would make it real, and while he doesn’t want to make a habit out of it, shanks has been lying to himself for some time now. he knows that if he’d let you come with them, he’d be having much more fun — that thought alone makes him reconsider how he’s handled everything between you two.

the universe, it seems, has a cruel sense of humor. as his thoughts continue to berate him, he spots you walking with beckman. he narrows his eyes at you both but offers a smile — one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes — once you approach the table.

jaw clenched, shanks manages to greet you without fail. “hey there, lovebug.” there’s tension in his shoulders, and that amiable demeanor of his is shed, which makes the women near him a little reluctant as they squirm awkwardly in their seats. “thought i told you to stay on the ship,” he says lightly, as if this is the most casual conversation in the world. beckman sighs, knowing that shanks will most likely read into the situation incorrectly; but before he can explain himself, he sits back down in his seat and pours himself a drink.

“you don’t own me,” you say with a slight huff, glancing over at shanks from the corners of your eyes, “i’m allowed to go where i please.”

shanks almost laughs at that, but keeps it inside; he wants to tell you that you’re wrong, but he knows that this isn’t the right time or place for that sort of discussion. lucky roux offers to make some room for you, but you smile sweetly and announce that there’s no need. they all look at you, confused and a little intrigued, and before lucky roux insists again, you say, “i have a seat already.”

without warning, you gently perch your round ass on top of beckman’s lap, effectively silencing the group around you. it suddenly feels as if time has slowed down for shanks, who shifts in his chair as he watches you and beckman.

the vice-captain sighs again and playfully pinches your side, a move that does not go unnoticed by shanks, of course. you let out a small shriek, cheeks burning, and swat his hand before scooting up higher on his lap. the move alone nearly sends shanks and beckman into an early grave, for different reasons, obviously. meanwhile you’re smiling like a cat — mischievous and proud, as if you’ve cornered your prey and you’re ready to pounce.

you look so damn smug and shanks wants to fuck your mouth for all of that insolence.

beckman holds onto your hip as you cross your legs, revealing the deep slit in your skirt. your legs are on display, catching the eyes of everyone at the table and the random party goers passing by. shanks clenches his jaw so tightly, it’s a miracle he hasn’t cracked his teeth. he knows that you’re provoking him into acting out, and while he doesn’t want to feed into it, his jealousy knows no bounds right now. especially since he knows you’re not wearing any panties — it’s why you chose that particular skirt.

you really only wanted to tease shanks a little, so you’re on cloud-nine when you notice how bothered he is over your little act.

it takes an inordinate amount of strength, on shanks’ part, to not split beckman’s face in two for his complicit behavior. he’s being unfair, he knows that — but he doesn’t really care. yasopp and lucky roux try to diffuse the situation with lighthearted banter and jokes — they also tell their guests to leave, because knowing shanks this might not end well.

beckman leans forward, lips ghosting along the shell of your ear, making your body warmer than necessary. “settle down, bug, we don’t want to cause a scene, do we?” you shake your head at that and swallow back whatever complaints you want to say when you see the hardened look on shanks’ face. you’ve only ever seen him that serious when his anger reaches a certain point — so you know you’ve fucked up pretty badly. you have the decency to act ashamed as you slide off beckman’s lap and grab your bags. you should probably say something to shanks, but you don’t bother looking back at him and instead head back to the ship.

you’re absolutely furious right now and so is shanks.

beckman rubs the back of his neck before leaning forward. “i told you, captain,” he keeps his tone friendly, yet firm, “if you’re not careful, one of us will take bug away.” at that, shanks casts a sharp glance at the other crew members seated at the table — the intensity behind his gaze forces them to turn away and look at other things. shanks motions for one of them to slide the bottle of vodka his way, and beckman groans audibly.

“not again, shanks, let—”

as shanks isn’t in a negotiating mood, he cuts his first mate off quickly — maliciously, even — with  venom sifting along his tongue, the layer thick enough he almost chokes on it. his voice is much too hoarse, but he spits out, “drink.”

it’s not a game that the red-hair pirates ever like to play with shanks, and he knows it; which is why he keeps insisting, and why his best friend keeps refusing. shanks’ anger reaches a tipping point; it transforms into a fire that steadily burns along the back of his neck, hot enough to make impulsive thoughts gather around him. the idea of extinguishing it never crosses his mind, although he knows that eventually he’ll need to face it head-on. and as he grips the bottle of alcohol tightly, a sharp moment of clarity hits him.

it’s by chance that he swallows it back, not wanting to make this even messier than it already is.

beckman shifts in his seat, a disapproving frown settling comfortably on his face. “it won’t be fair, i’m practically drunk already.”

“spare me the bullshit,” shanks says with a smile that serves as a small warning; he places a glass in front of beckman. “drink.” beckman pinches the space bridge of his nose and exhales a bit of his irritation. but when he picks up the glass, he recoils from the strong scent.

“this is practically rubbing alcohol.”

shanks only hums while shrugging lazily, before knocking back the drink; the burn revitalizes him, the pain reminds him that he’s alive. in a game of endurance, shanks always comes out on top. so it’s no wonder that beckman taps out after two shots.

“i value my liver, unlike you.”

this time, shanks’ laughter is genuine; he hops out of his chair and claps a hand on beckman’s back. “you’re forgiven,” he says when he leans down. as an afterthought, he adds, “this time.”

you’ve done a good job derailing his night — not that he can really blame you, he was being absolutely shameless in the worse way — so he’s decided he’s had enough. somehow, he’s rationalized that you’re the only childish and ridiculous person in this situation because he intends on stamping that attitude out.

SUN X STARS X MOON

you peruse shanks’ room while sipping from the bottle of rum you found. although you count tonight as a small victory against shanks, you didn’t think he’d get that mad. was all the teasing worth it, in the end? you leave the rum on the nightstand before climbing onto his bed and enjoy the softness of the mattress. maybe you overreacted, or maybe it’s all his fault. the guilt sits with you, until shanks enters his room.

“the hell are you doing back so soon?”

it’s not a proper greeting in the least, but you’re not exactly ready to deal with him just yet. but, since he’s already here, you might as well have it out. shanks closes the door and leans against it, partially obscured in the shadows as the moon bathes you in its light through the window.

“in case you’ve forgotten, this is my room and that’s my bed that you’re lounging comfortably on.”

he’s got you there. you roll your eyes in response, which draws out a chuckle from him once he pushes away from the door and goes to sit near you on the bed.

your emotions swell inside of you and become too heavy for you to keep hidden. “fine, whatever, i’ll leave.” you hop off the bed but then turn around. “you’re an asshole, you know that? you string me along for months and then anytime anyone else wants to talk to me you suddenly intervene.” the words tumble out of your mouth fluidly, you’re surprised your tongue could keep up. blinking back tears — because you refuse let him see you this vulnerable. “you piss me off so much, i… can’t do this anymore.”

it’s the first time that you’ve properly articulated how you’ve felt about this whole stupid situation. you feel a bit lighter but then sense of dread overcomes you, gnaws at your stomach — twisting and creating knots that make you want to run away forever. shanks takes a moment and mulls over your words, but his long silence is all the confirmation you need. you’re halfway to the door when he calls out to you.

“wait, come here.”

against your better judgment, you turn around and head back to his side. he sits on the edge of the bed, pulls you in between his legs, and warms an arm around you. “i hear you, bug, i really do.”

this is the first time he’s ever willingly said anything to make him vulnerable like that, so you relent, soften in his hold, allow your shattered heart to repair itself piece by piece. you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him softly. he’s normally much hastier with you — being a pirate captain, he barely has time to himself, so whenever he does get a moment to touch you, he’s always in a rush.

but tonight — the moon full and pink, hanging heavy in the sky, stars shimmering brilliantly around it — he opts to slow down. shanks takes his time memorizing the shape of your lips, tongue gently caressing yours as you sigh against his lips. he kisses you like he has all the time in the world, like he’s afraid you’ll leave him if he doesn’t. you’re certainly in no hurry to finish anytime soon. by the time you’re done kissing, you’re a little breathless and can barely hold it together. shanks, unsurprisingly, is in a similar predicament, as his cock hasn’t given him a day of peace since your ban started.

but he decides to let go and mumbles, “thirty days is a long fucking time,” and you laugh, surprised at his words.

you climb onto the bed with him, laughing as he drops playful kisses along your neck, and straddle him once he lies down on his back. you rub your ass against his stiff length, forcing him to groan audibly. he’s always more vocal when he’s tipsy, and the rum has you feeling bolder as the minutes pass by. before you can do it again, shanks slaps your ass hard and you let out an involuntary shriek.

he laughs at you, laughs at the way you’re suddenly acting demure, as if you weren’t the one who started this. “i thought you didn’t want anyone to hear you?” he gives you a knowing look and a sly smile crawls onto his face. heat travels along your skin, making your cheeks burn in the worst way; you place a hand over his mouth on impulse.

“shut up, what is wrong with you?”

you hate the way you’re suddenly embarrassed about all of this. shanks, however, takes it all in stride, laughing behind your hand and mumbling something unintelligible against your palm. he knows he needs to act quickly before she makes him cum in his pants without trying. so when you pull your hand back, he says, “come on, put your pretty pussy on my mouth.” you stare at him wide-eyed, but he doesn’t relent. you mumble something about possibly being too heavy, which makes him laugh at your ridiculous excuse.

“how many times do i need to show you?” his strength, he means.

before he can do anything too rash, you pull your skirt up and position yourself over his face, pussy already slick with your arousal. shanks runs his tongue along your folds, slipping it inside to give you a firm lick; he takes his time to eat you out, his pace tortuous but electrifying. you can barely keep quiet and moan louder than you mean to as you shamelessly ride his face. holding onto the headboard, a whirlwind whips about inside of your lower abdomen as he slurps your pussy sloppily. he pulls you closer, and your arousal drips down his lips and onto his chin. your pussy is always so eager for him, so naturally he wants to treat her right.

you lose a bit of your sanity when his tongue slips inside your hole, thrusting in and out, your whimpers and moans circling around him — the best sort of lullaby he could ask for. he flicks his tongue against your clit and you buck your hips, feverishly grinding your pussy on his tongue. he likes it when you let go like this — when you’re uncaring and free. you place so many barriers in front of your own happiness, so he’s determined to knock them all down while he can. you know it’s reckless to give in to your inhibitions like this, to fly this closely to this personified version of the sun. although, you do feel a surge of power, seeing him underneath you like that, in between your thick thighs.

if shanks is apollo, then you are a nymph with ties to the moon and the sea.

it’s when shanks swirls his tongue around your clit, mercilessly stroking it, sending tiny jolts through your thighs, making you tremble above him. the orgasm is transformative — you have tears in your eyes as you whimper pathetically, your pussy puffy and sensitive; but he doesn’t care. he licks your arousal off his lips, thinking you look divine and goddess-like in the interim following your orgasm.

time slows for you both, and maybe you’re imaging it, but your heartbeat matches his once you climb off of him. of course, as usual, shanks is smug and proud of himself, but when you start taking off your clothes and tossing them onto the floor, he follows suit. pre-cum drips slowly from the tip of his cock, and when you rub your wet pussy up and down his length, you let out a breathy moan. shanks watches you with lowered eyes, inhaling sharply once you sink down onto his cock.

your pussy swallows his girth with a slow descent, and he’s losing whatever sliver of control he thinks he has over himself when it comes to you. when his cock hits a particular spot, you shudder and moan his name; he could cum from that alone, he realizes, and it shocks the hell out of him. in retaliation, shanks thrusts into you once, then twice, as you claw at his chest and cry out for more. your pace quickens as you bounce on his cock, thighs trembling as you try to keep strong; the orgasm weakened you, but rather than give in, you keep going, rolling your hips against him, hypnotizing him without completely meaning to. he won’t last much longer at this rate, which is completely your fault, he reasons.

you ride him as long as you can, before frowning and slowing down. shanks looks at you slyly, unable to stop teasing you. “need some help?”

it’s your pride that doesn’t want you to ask for help, but you know that if you don’t, shanks will edge you until you’re on your knees in tears. “please.” if he wasn’t already teetering on the edge, your desperation would make him tease you more. he rolls so that he’s on top of you and leans forward to place kisses along your jaw and neck, loving how smooth and soft your skin is. because he’s obnoxious, he sucks and bites, leaving behind bruising marks on your neck and chest. he’s burning you alive, but you want more.

you drape your leg over his shoulder, and he kisses the inside of your thigh before flicking his tongue against your skin, enjoying the way you squirm underneath him, your heart beating much too fast in your chest, making you think seemingly impossible things. shanks slips his cock back inside of you, burying it completely, letting out a shaky breath at the way your plush walls suffocate him. the angle makes you buck your hips off the bed; he laughs darkly at your enthusiasm, but doesn’t move. the frustration alone could kill you; you want him to fuck you hard enough to shake your doubts, to combat all the warmth that keeps sliding through the cracks around your heart.

he moves his hips at his own leisure, giving you broad, powerful strokes — hard enough, that his balls slap against you, pussy squelching as he powers into you repeatedly. you should be embarrassed from the sounds alone — your pussy is wet enough for him to drown, but thankfully he’s got enough stamina to handle it.

each time his cock sinks deeper into your pussy, he feels reborn; like the sea — tumultuous, dizzying, captivating, and greedy — you suck him back in each time he tries pulling out. eventually, you wrap your arms around your thighs and he feels like you’re squeezing the remnants of his soul out of him. shanks rocks his hips against yours, rough and determined, sweat gliding along his skin. when he moans your name, your heart expands faster than you thought it would. shanks keeps his hips closer to yours, giving you short, quick thrusts, fucking you to remind you that he has no intention of letting you go. his breath is warm against your skin and you kiss him again, giving him ardent, sloppy tongue kisses that do nothing to calm you down. he swallows your moans as another orgasm grips you by the throat and nearly claims your life.

your pussy clenches around him tightly, so he takes that as a challenge and fucks you harder, giving you brutal, punishing strokes — frenetic and dizzying, making your mind spin too fast for you to keep up.

“shanks, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

whatever else you say after that is lost on you, incoherent babbling that makes him laugh at you again. it’s out of adoration, you know it is, even if he won’t openly say it. shanks e works you through your orgasm, hips jerking against yours, before his own pushes him completely over the edge. after giving you a few lazy thrusts, he cums inside of you, messy but satisfying. shanks slows down and tries to catch his breath, as you push your curls away from your face. he doesn’t leave your side after he pulls out, instead he pulls you close to him, his hand rubbing up and down your back, his subsequent kisses intense and possessive.

you don’t exactly know what will happen tomorrow, but for now you’ll cherish this moment and commit it to memory. with everything that’s happened, he doesn’t want to see you in the arms of another, and you don’t want to keep pushing him away. you’re sure something’s shifted fundamentally between you two, especially when you lay on top of him and listen to the steady, powerful beats of his heart. you suppose you can give him a little leeway, but you won’t tell him that right away. there’s a warmth that cloaks itself all over you, keeping you moored to him for the rest of the night; he enjoys the silence that accompanies your presence, and decides that he’s going to keep you for as long as he can.

#it's finally done jfc #fic request #one piece imagine #one piece angst #one piece smut #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #shanks angst #shanks smut #shanks x reader #shanks x y/n #*washes hands* #‘i can change him’ 🥴 #no tf i can’t!!! am i kidding?! #also… beckman… ur day will come don’t worry

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: A lot of you were wanting a DNA test for Helaenas kids after the last chapter hehe.... whelp.... would it make you feel better if I told you he was gentle with her?

Chapter 21: Dragonstone

The trip back to Dragonstone was long and tiresome. You rode on Sȳndor the entire way, alongside your father on Caraxes.

The sun was low in the sky when you had left, and you did not arrive until the sun had risen once more, peeking up above the clouds, chased away by the moon. 

You circled around the volcanic island, the high cliffs covered in a soft pillow of fog and smoke. Endless rolls of green layered the grounds, the grass gently swaying in the breeze.

You felt an air of relief once you landed, Sȳndor’s large heavy wings beating against the air to softly descend on Dragonstone. The great dragon bowed gently to the grassy hill to assist you sliding down from his back.

An ache spread through your body as your legs finally touched down. The journey sitting and holding on tight was tiresome, but worth every moment. Soaring high above the clouds, gazing at the many stars and constellations soothed your grief and rage inside you. 

For you, flying was an escape. You felt safe atop the pitch black dragon and free from all your worries and troubles. Flying made you laugh and smile, and as you grew it was your favourite past time. Some days you would spend the entirety in the air, pointlessly flying before having to turn home to allow him to rest, and you to eat.

You stretched your arms up high, letting out a long groan as you felt your stiff muscles pull, and joints click. Caraxes’ high squeal pierced your ears as your father landed not far away from you.

Sȳndor let out a loud purr as you brushed your hand against his neck, scratching the scales lovingly, whilst whispering praises to him for his safe journey home. 

As the Rogue Prince dismounted The Red Wyrm, its long neck and head turned towards him to nuzzle gently at his side, almost knocking your father from his balance. 

“Gīda, Caraxes.” (Calm, Caraxes.) Daemon cooed, roughly patting at its neck.

Caraxes let out a chirping purr. 

Walking towards you, the tall Prince cracked his neck to the side, stretching out his spine. 

“Skorkydoso glaesā tala?” (How are you daughter?) He asked, voice smooth.

“Jaes, ēdrugī. Mazeman ziry iksā qubykta tepagon iksā iā uēpa vala.” (Gods, tired. I take it you are worse given you are an old man.) You joked, coming to his side as you both began to walk up the long winding path to the entrance, Sȳndor taking flight behind you to rest upon Dragonmont.

“Uēpa vala?” (Old man?) He asked incredulously, “Eminna ao gīmigon bona bisa uēpa vala-“ (I will have you know that this old man-).

“Io bisa iksis jāre naejot sagon iā vestriarzir nūmāzma skorkydoso īlē konīr lēda se Ēlie Vali…” (If this is going to be a story about how you were there with the First Men…) You trailed off, giving Daemon a cheeky smile.

His hand swiftly comes up to gently swat at the back of your head, a loud giggle bursting from your mouth as your tucked yourself under his arm, walking side by side.

“Ao nektogon nyke sīr trūmirī. Nyke jāre naejot ivestragon aōha muña bona emā brōztagon nyke uēpa.” (You cut me so deeply. I’m going to tell your mother that you called me old.”

“Muña jorrāelagon ao kesrio syt iksā uēpa, kępa.” (Mother likes you because you are old, father.) You smirked.

His large hand squeezes your side roughly, causing you to squeak out.

“Such a mean girl you are. How did my daughter ever become so cruel?” 

“I suppose it must be all your fault, given my father is the Rogue Prince.” 

The winding path is high, clouds below restricting you from looking down to the cliffs and ocean below.

The castle of Dragonstone sits high atop a cliff from an erupted volcano, crashing waves burst below it on the sides. In comparison to the Red Keep in King's Landing, Dragonstone was more of a military base.

Inside the stone walls, there are no tapestries donning the walls, no golden paints and red banners. Its interior is rough like the cliffs it was built upon, sharp and dark in some places whilst others smooth as the water below it.

Large intricate carvings adorned the walls inside and out. Large stone Dragons sat perched on almost every corner and wall, their smooth sculpted bodies protruding from all sides.

Compared to the Red Keep, its design was almost volatile, though the stoneworks and masonry were far beyond any others within the Seven Kingdoms, the skill lost in Old Valyria. 

You entered through two large steel doors.

On each side, two stone Dragons heads sat at the entrance, their size almost of your own Dragon. Dragonstone guards opened the large doors, pulling them wide as you and your father walked through, arm in arm.

“Ah,” He breathed, as you walked through the rough walls of the corridor, “Home.”

Large torches lined the walls to guide your path inside. The never ending corridors twisting and turning until finally you came to the Chamber of the Painted Table.

The large stone table sat in the middle of the room, on it a carved map of the Kingdoms. You had fond memories of your father and mother lighting the table up with candles beneath, telling you tales of all the lands. The bright names of the Houses looked up at you, the rivers and oceans looking ablaze with flames. 

Walking to the side of the room your father sat heavily upon a chair burying his head into his hands, sighing as he did. 

“Are you okay, father?” Concern laced your voice as you walked to stand in front of him.

He leans a hand on the arm of the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leans heavily.

“I suppose I should speak to you now before the others arrive.” He sighed, head still in his hand.

“About what?” 

Anxiety spiked within you.

“Don’t play coy. You know why we must speak.” He grunted, shifting to lean his head fully on his hand, piercing purple eyes looking into yours.

You squirmed under his gaze, waiting for him to continue. 

“How long?” He asks, watching you sharply.

You furrow your brows at him, “How long?”

“Have you been courting Aemond.” His tone is sharp.

Your mouth goes dry, “I’m not,” You stumble over your words, “I haven’t…” You’re lost for words.

The Rogue Prince leant his head against the back of the chair, sighing deeply once more, before looking down his nose at you. Even seated he almost towers above you. 

“You expect me to believe that with the way he stares at you with his lone eye? His gaze follows your every step.”

“Yes, you are to believe me. When have I ever lied to you? I am not courting Aemond.”

“I could not care less about who you fuck y/n, I have no quarrels with you seeking pleasure.” Your fathers voice was impatient, “Though you need to be careful.”

“I-“ You shake your head, “Careful?”

“Yes. I’m sure you may be familiar with Moon Tea?”

“Moon Tea? Father, I have not laid with him!” Your patience began to wear thin, “I am still a maiden, not that it is your business to know.”

He watches you carefully, eyes scanning your face. A gentle grunt escaped his lips as he leant forward to hold your hands. 

“The people of the realm do not take kindly to bastards birthed by royal wombs. There is a reason we are living here and not at the Red Keep.” 

“Father I swear to you, I am not courting Aemond.”

“Do you love him?”

You sniff, straightening your back, pushing down all feelings of grief and rage within you. Shame tried to claw its way up your throat but you push it down.

If you told the Rogue Prince, you knew that war would rage. 

“No.” You replied, voice short.

Your fathers hands still held yours firmly, as his eyes searched your face.

“I may be an old man, but I know there is more to this than you let on.”

“Enough! How could I ever love someone who has tormented me and my brothers for years? Who hates our very existence? Who calls us bastards? A man who continues the vile whispers at Court? How could I ever give my heart to someone like that?” You snap at him, a small burst of anger spilling away from you uncontrollably.

“Sometimes we don’t understand our heart. It can choose the worst choice for us. To do something so wrong; to love something so pure, that you know you will surely taint it, but you would betray everything, even your own brother to seek it out.” 

His face was soft.

You felt tears begin to swell in your eyes. Sniffling you looked down at the floor, your vision blurring. “He is cruel, and unkind. I do not love him.”

“Yet, you mourn him.”

“I mourn who he was.” You snapped. “He was a sweet boy, kind, and caring. Nothing but gentle. He had such a devotion to protecting his sister, and for the first time in years, I saw a glimpse of the little boy I grew up with.”

“You have loved him.”

“Of course, he was my friend; my uncle. We grew up together. Aemond was always kind to me,” A tear fell down your face, “And when the boys would get up to mischief, he would come sit at the Godswood with me and Helaena and listen to us read. He thought he was hidden, but I always knew that he was there. He never hurt me or Helaena, no matter how cruel his brother was to him, no matter how much even my own brothers joined in, he never once struck me. Never once took out his rage on me.”

Your father just looked at you, urging you to continue.

“I don’t love him, I can’t. He has hurt me. He has hurt my brothers. He sides with his venomous mother, everything about him has been twisted. He is the product of the Hightower’s hatred and poison. The sweet boy I knew died when his eye was taken.”

The Rogue Prince gave you a said but knowing smile, pausing before he spoke.

“My heart, you are too good for any man or woman in this realm. No one could ever deserve you.” 

He stood to hold you against him, tucking your face in as you cried, resting his lips atop your head.

“You are my life, the greatest gift that the Gods have ever given me. I would die for you, I would watch the entire Realm burn if that meant keeping you happy.”

Tears streamed from your face, the exhaustion of the trip and Aemonds abuse crashing over you like a wave.

“It’s too late. I could never be with him, I could never love him. I-” You pause, your breath hitching in your throat as a sob escaped your lips.

You did not think that this had affected you so much. You did not know how much the years gone by had truly devastated you, but like a dam that waters rose after a flood; You broke.

All the years of shame, of torment. The grief over losing your home, your connection to your family, the stress pushed on you by the Hightower’s; all of it came bubbling over, flooding your senses.

Your father held you tighter as he gently swayed you, cooing sweet words in High Valyrian on the top of your head to soothe you. You stayed in his hold for a while, clutching onto Daemon as you let all that was pent up inside out until all that was left was the bitter taste of rage.

His gentle swaying calmed you. 

The Rogue Prince pulled back from you, holding your arms gently as you swiped roughly at your face with the back of your sleeve, feeling agitation seeping further through your bones.

“Better?” He asked.

You nodded your head roughly.

Looking down at you he gave a sly smile, “As much as I am happy to be away from those snivelling cunts, I can’t help but feel some disappointment in not watching Alicent squirm in my presence,” A cheeky chuckle left his lips as he turned to walk you to your chambers, “or Aegon.”

It was your turn to laugh. 

“You know I caught him with a servant girl on her knees during the celebration? I was almost tempted to ask Aemond to pluck out my eyes.” You whined, the image of your uncle's depravity flashing in your mind.

“I’m surprised his cock hasn’t fallen off.” Your father hums.

"Ugh, I do not want to think of Aegon's cock right now.” You grimaced.

“When does anyone ever?”

You stifle your giggle as you walk. With each step, your body felt heavier and heavier, the soles of your feet although now fully healed, still ached with the new scars. 

As you approached your chambers, a man stood outside of the doors in waiting.

Ser Harold Darke was a tall, muscular man whose skin was pale though littered with small freckles from the sun. He was a handsome man, with dark curled hair that sat behind his ears, and eyes as black as coal. Ser Darke was a kind man, and although at times quite serious, you found yourself to be quite fond of your protector. 

“Ser Harold.” You called out to him smiling, his stern face turning to look at you, before a small smile appeared.

The knight bowed his head at you and your father, “Prince Daemon, Princess Y/n.” He acknowledged you both, eyes still on the floor.

“Have you missed me terribly?” You teased, letting go of your fathers arm to walk towards the older man.

“Of course, My Lady.” He replied, duty in his tone, as he began to open the chamber doors for you to enter. You turned on your heel to face Daemon, reaching to hug him as he pulled away scrunching his nose.

“You smell like Dragon.” He cringed before stepping forward to kiss the top of your head.

Looking over your shoulder he addressed Ser Darke, “Have water brought to the Princess’ chambers, so that she may bathe.”

Ser Harold bowed his head, “Of course, My Lord.” He spoke, waiting for you to enter your chambers before leaving. 

“I shall see you for supper.” Your father spoke, looking down at you before placing one last kiss to the crown of your head, turning to leave in a flurry of leather, fatigue in his walk. 

Stepping through the open doors, you walked into your large chambers.

Your chambers were large and had seperate open rooms for sitting, eating and sleeping. Light streamed streamed through the open balcony, columns of stone with dragons carved into them sat in the corners of the room.

A large four poster bed sat on a far wall, intricate carvings adorning the wood with deep red bed sheets atop. A round table and chairs of dark wood sat in the sitting area with a large fireplace nearby, crackling flames rising from it.

“Thank you, Ser Harold.” You dismissed the knight awaiting at the door.

With a bow he pulled the door shut with a heavy thud.

Walking to the balcony you opened the large doors, breeze from the ocean sweeping inside, causing the soft white curtains to blow inwards in a large ruffle. The breeze tickled your cheeks, and the salt from the ocean's breath settled on your tongue. 

Stepping out on the stone balcony you rested against the balustrade heavily, arms crossing over the top as you gazed out to the ocean before you.

A calm settled in your bones, as you breathed the briny air. Finally at peace and back at your second home. 

You watched as large waves crashed up against the cliffs below, the fluffy caps spraying up the dark cliffs, their salty spray carried by the wind to salt the air around you. You remember Ser Corlys Velaryon telling you once that the oceans salt could cleanse you of ailments and anxiety, and you believed him. 

You stood on the balcony for some time, watching the waves below and breathing deeply as he had told you, letting the stress of your travels melt away. The longer you watched, the more at peace you felt. 

One day you would be Lady of Dragonstone, and the thought of being with the salty spray and calming waves for the rest of your days, brought great comfort to you. You would be away from the crowded city of Kings Landing and away from your uncles and all of their troubles. Here was a place without the Greens.

Here you could live out your days and perhaps find a suitable husband, have children of your own and grow old. 

A knock sounded at your doors.

You turned to walk back inside, smoothing your wind swept hair, “Enter.” You called out gently.

Two maids walked inside with large buckets of water, as they stepped through the threshold they bowed, “Princess y/n, we are to prepare your bath.” A maid called Meera spoke, dark black hair braided neatly down her back.

“Thank you.” You walked back outside to watch the waves, as more stepped through to bring and fill the tub before the fireplace. 

Shortly the bath was filled, the sweet aromas of the oils littered the air as you walked back inside. Though something caught your attention, you sniffed the air once more taking in the subtle scent of something familiar.

Walking to the large tub you breathed deeply, brows furrowing at the familiarity.

“What oils are these?” You asked, watching the steam roll out of the water.

The smaller maid, Alanna, had light brown hair, and although it was shorter than Meera, it was braided tightly atop her head. 

“New ones, My Lady. Sent from Kings Landing as a gift to you. There is rose oil, and bergamot from the Keeps garden,” She began to list, thought in her eyes, “frankincense from Dorne, oil from the peels of oranges…” 

“And sandalwood, Princess.” Meera finished for her.

Your breath hitched in your throat, brows furrowing. You reached your fingertips to dip them into the steaming water.

“Be careful My Lady, the water is boiling!” Alanna exclaimed, hand reaching to grab you as your fingers plunged into the milky water.

You felt no pain, only the glorious heat which curled itself around your digits. “It is perfect. Thank you both. You may leave.” 

The girls gave an awkward bow, looking worriedly at your hand before turning to take the oils and buckets with them as they swiftly left the room. 

You peeled the layers of leather from your body, letting them drop to the floor in a heap, the weight of the coat lifted from your shoulders as a steady ache began to bloom in your lower back.

You bent down to unlace your boots before stepping out of the puddle of clothes beneath you.

Lifting your foot to dip it into the water, you tested the temperature. It was not at all boiling and was the perfect heat to relax your wound up muscles. Once satisfied that the girls were overreacting about the heat, and that it would not in fact burn you, you let the heat engulf your leg as you stepped fully into the tub. You sank into the heavily scented water, you felt the burning heat crawl up your skin. 

No pain was felt, only comfort. 

Once seated fully within the large tub you leant against the back, stretching your legs out in front of you, feeling your muscles begin to relax. Your muscles slowly unclenched and any pain your back slowly began to melt away from you.

A deep sigh left your chest as you skimmed your fingers on the surface of the water, small beads of oil clumping into little balls atop. How curious.

Lifting your fingers to your lips you sniffed at the scent.

A glorious blend which complimented itself, through its sweet tones and rough spices. Though the hints of sandalwood brought memories of your uncle back into your mind. 

You squirmed in the tub, feeling a new heat crawl up your spine. 

Memories of his fingers on your centre, his sneer as he gazed at you, those lips that pressed against yours, fluttered about in your mind. The fear of him that had once been there was now gone, replaced by a heady desire.

You found yourself closing your eyes, memories of your dream and his assault causing your core to clench, hand slipping down between your thighs, gently touching at your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

A deep sigh tumbled from your lips as you began to rub soft circles against your clit, breath hitching as you felt pleasure surge beneath your skin. You thought of the dark Dornish man from your dreams, his large hand holding you as he plunged his fingers into your core, your own hand mimicking the fantasy. 

The pleasure built within you as you continued, fingers working faster to bring you to your peak.

Mewls peeled from your lips as you arched into your hand, getting closer to the precipice as the Dornish man began to sink below your waist, tongue lapping gently at your centre.

A low groan fell from your lips. 

“Zaldistros.” The man whispered, your uncles smooth timbre suddenly replacing him.

Your eyes shot open and you jerked in the tub, water splashing up the sides and over onto the floor. Growling in frustration, you leant back once more, closing your eyes, determined to enjoy your fantasy without interruption.

Instead, you thought of a woman your age, dark skin and gorgeous hair, plucking delicately at your centre, to bring you to your release. A moan slipped through your lips as you thought of her, pressed against you, your mouths crashing together in tandem as she rubbed against you.

Short breaths puffed from your mouth as the spring inside you began to tighten. 

Your hand worked faster slipping between your thighs, water softly lapping the sides of the tub as you neared your release, the image of the woman above you guiding you to your peak. Pleasure climbed within you, your core clenched, breaths stuttering as the spring began to snap.

“Cum for me Zaldristos.” Came the smooth purr of your uncle, as you came.

Pleasure surged through your body, as your core seized around nothing. A long moan pouring out of your lips as your body twitched within the torrid waters. Any tightness in your body was surely released after such a powerful orgasm.

Oh Gods.

As your breathing settled, frustration bubbled to the surface. Fuck. Air came roughly out through your nose as you opened your eyes to stare up at the ceiling. The lightness from your peak fading as something new settled into your chest.

The intricate designs carved on the ceiling looked back down at you.

You grunted leaning forward to snatch the wash cloth left on the edge of the tub, as you roughly began to scrub your body. You rubbed at your skin until it was red and raw, your anger at yourself pooling into every movement of your hand.

What was wrong with you?

Anger rippled through you as you threw the washcloth against the side of the tub, curse exploding from your lips. 

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@izzicle @ej-shitchats @may-machin @alegria1580 @witchy-jadda @videovampire @inkdelicious @queteimporta39 @virtualsweetsqueen @fo-cus @auratiqs @feyres-fireheart @queenofshinigamis @asoiafwh8re @teasandcrumpets @shesjustanothergeek @grungegrrrl@queenofsarcazm @marihoneywk @curlszx88 @virgogaia @loser-keiji @asoiafwh8re @whore-of-many-hot-men

#aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #hotd smut #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #dark!aemond #dark!fic #fic #series #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond #rhaenyra targaryen

[teethstoobigmouthwontclose]

The nature of all things is cyclical.

The sun brightens and cools in his 14-year periods, the ice advances and retreats, the seasons have their slightly mercurial dance, the moon waxes and wanes... And magic, too, has it's cycle of strength and rest.  Dragons are inherently magical and powerful with it; both users and sources of magic.  A dragon is fed through mundane means, yes, but mainly via magic; they are sustained by embodying their elemental alignments. Their waste product is magical energy - mainly attuned to their major element, but some un-elementally-aligned magic as well.  There are five major sources of magic: From within the churning core of the earth - which seeps out of various outlets, from the sun, from the stars, from the moon, and from dragons. During a stronger magical time, the dragons themselves are also strengthened.  It is during one of these strong times that dragons decide they can no longer tolerate the indignity of the Pact with humans, and incite the old wars once more.  This time, they win, and humanity is conquered.  Meredith burns an entire country to ashes, though afterwards she must go into a long sleep... Marcolac snaps, and kills ...three... people. He flees to live in a bog... Marsbecomes a storm: endless, raging, unstoppable. His mountain cracks with the force of his transformation, electricity now forevermore arcing between the halves of it's peak... Titurna retreats to the deep seas... Artemesiumbecomes to bold, too hubristic, and challenges Sage outright. He is killed.  And Sage himself... Glorious, cruel, cunning Sage... his swelling power forcibly expands his woodland territory past natural bounds. The trees swallow and smother vast areas, turning the existing network of human villages each into isolated, trapped nightmares.  Now older, his powers mature further. His minor element of "the hunt" now allows him to compel other predatory animals to his service. Green-grey, golden-eyed wolves patrol his territory, preventing any within from leaving. If the whim takes him, he may summon them as a horde to foam and frenzy over his enemies.  The humans within his woods banish occasional members for him to chase on grand hunts, to supplicate and appease him. 

#dragon #wolf #wolves #feral #oc #green #myart #this was VERY personally satisfying to draw 😎

[seriowan]

for the dancing and the dreaming (hunter x f!reader)

“Surviving is the bare minimum of what it means to live. Thanks to you, Omega knows how to survive — maybe you should show her what it means to live a little bit as well.”

summary: on the night of pabu's annual 'giving festival', omega opens herself up to new experiences while hunter's night takes an unexpected turn, leaving him with a memorable moment that might change the course of his life forever...

pairing: hunter x f!reader (nicknamed coral)

tags: spoilers for tbb s2ep13; love at first sight; meet-cute; first-meeting kiss; reader is described as wearing a yellow sundress; nothing but fluff! - brief mentions of tech/phee

word count: 5k

a/n: the second i watched episode 13 i got this idea to write hunter in a whirlwind romance with a pabu girl and three drafts later, this is the final product! i wrote it with MAJOR inspiration from tangled's 'kingdom dance' scene and that one scene from how to train your dragon, so prepare thyself!

radio: kingdom dance, alan menkin — for the dancing and the dreaming, httyd soundtrack

♡ masterlist ♡

Pabu was a true gem of nature, tucked away amid the endless oceans of its home planet.

  As the warm sun kissed the little island, turquoise waters lapped gently against the grainy shores and ancient stone ports. Vibrant green brush and trees swayed in the breeze, their fronds whispering to one another. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of exotic flowers, peppering the island in patches of oranges, reds, and pinks. Birdsong echoed alongside the crashing waves, moon-yo hoots and howls bouncing from one side of the island to the other. From the cobblestone streets and markets came the sound of life; cacophonies of chatter and murmurs, a blend of voices as the islanders bartered and laughed and greeted one another with merry smiles. 

   It was as if time stood still on Pabu, and every moment spent there was a moment of peace. 

   Hunter looked over the city from the balcony of Shep’s home, his stomach full and his heart more so. 

   He tuned in to Tech and Phee’s conversation, smiling into his cup of freshly squeezed juice when he mostly heard Tech’s voice going on about artifacts. A quick side eye and there Phee was, listening with her elbow on the table and her cheek in her palm, eyes locked onto his rambling brother as if he was the only person around. 

   Wrecker lay on a lounge chair, his hands behind his head and a dazed smile on his lips. With his belly finally full, the food coma hit him harder than ever, sending him into a blissful sleep that no one thought to disturb. Especially not when the sun was just right. Not when the winds carried the salty smell of the ocean and the sound of Omega’s laughter as she and Lyana chased the moon-yos around the balcony.

   He looked over the city once more, watching as everyone lived their little slices of life. Couples walked hand-in-hand. Kids played ball and danced together, holding fizzing sparklers above their heads. An older man fed a cluster of moon-yos from a paper bag of scraps, waving at a woman as she walked past him with a basket of flowers hooked on her arm. 

   Hunter found it hard to believe that this island wasn’t a dream. Everything felt so serene and calm that it just… didn’t feel familiar. Not for them, at least. Not after years of missions and months of running and scavenging. After living day-to-day for most of his life, being able to sit and breathe felt odd. It was even more strange that he actually had to sit and wonder if he could call this island home. 

   As far as he could remember, home was never really a place but a people. His people — the one rambling on to an interested girl; the other sleeping peacefully on the lounge chair; the little girl who held Lyana’s hand as she scurried out through the gate. 

   Hunter glanced down at his cup and gave it a gentle swirl. 

   When did he last feel so content?

  With the little voice in the back of his head reminding him that two of his brothers were out fighting for their lives (albeit for different reasons), he knew that he’d never have a total moment of peace… but, as small as this was, it was enough. Enough for him to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Enough for him to sit and actually feel the sun on his face. Enough for him to listen to the ocean, its gentle waves reminding him of a quiet Kamino. 

   Footsteps approached him from behind. He smelled the faintest scent of fruit as Phee leaned against the parapet, elbows up on the wall with a cup in her hand. She left Tech by the table, sparing a glance his way before turning towards Hunter. 

   “You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind,” she teased. 

   The opposite, actually, was what he wanted to say. Instead, he settled on, “It’s nice here.”

   “Nice enough to stay?” She wasn’t pushing him but she wasn’t exactly being subtle about it either. Hunter knew that Phee always had two reasons for everything she did and when she glanced back at Tech, eyes softening, Hunter knew exactly why she posed this question. 

   He smothered the urge to smile and looked off towards the ocean, shoulders sagging as he struggled to come up with an answer. 

   “Think about it,” Phee murmured, nudging his arm with her elbow. “Take all the time you need. Pabu’s not goin’ anywhere.” 

   He hummed, the corner of his mouth lifting as he glanced from Phee to Tech. “Sure.” 

   An unspoken conversation took place as Phee narrowed her eyes, unable to hide the smallest trace of her smile. Hunter just arched a brow and she gave in with a sigh, shaking her head.

“You’ve got me there, Bandana. I think staying here would do you all some good — especially Omega. But, I’m not one for peer pressure. Maybe a walk through the city might help you come to a decision.” She looked over the city, her face lighting up when she noticed the streamers and decorations hanging from rooftop to rooftop. “Looks like tonight’s the Giving Festival.” 

   “Giving Festival?” 

   Phee nodded. “Everyone comes out for the Giving Festival and shares things like food, clothes, and jewelry — and everything’s free with no expectation to receive anything in return. They thank the ocean and the island for giving them a safe haven. It's why the kids get dressed in blue clothes and parade around with their sparklers. In fact, Omega and Lyana should be down there right now.” 

   He thought of it for a brief moment before nodding. Phee took that as her sign to leave but not without giving Hunter’s arm a squeeze. When she turned, Tech greeted her with the smallest smile — an action that Hunter seemed to notice happening more frequently than usual. 

   Leaving his cup on the parapet, Hunter removed his knife from the sheath on his waist and placed it atop the table.  After a final glance back at his brothers, Hunter walked through the gate and left the balcony, entering the colorful streets of Pabu. 

   It took him a bit to get used to the sheer kindness that never seemed to run out from the island’s residents. Wherever he went, it seemed that everyone knew he was a newcomer, so he was often given cheerful waves and happy smiles. Some even stopped him, briefly chatting to introduce themselves before going back to their festivities. It was all odd, truly, but it was somewhat nice to be treated like a neighbor instead of a criminal on the run. 

   A father, as Shep had previously called him. Those words still echoed in his head and he had no intention of ever forgetting them. 

   Hunter’s walk through the city had its effect, as Phee suggested. The more he wandered, the more he wondered if he could live like the islanders: at peace and happy. Domesticity was never really an option until now, but as he watched the children play in front of their homes, parents watching from balconies and doorways, he imagined himself in their shoes. It was easy to picture Omega running through these stone streets, laughing as freely as she did when she first latched onto his heart. 

   It didn’t take long before he came across that exact sight. 

   Standing in the center of a busy market street, Omega and Lyana wore blue robes over their clothes and carried glowing sparklers in their hands. They both had blue powder staining their cheeks and nose, causing Hunter to smile when the girls shared a giggle at how they looked. It wasn’t until Omega turned towards a store and waved that he realized the two girls weren’t alone. 

   Emerging from the doorway of a dome home was the woman he saw from Shep’s balcony. While she didn’t have a basket of flowers hanging from her elbow anymore, she carried two necklaces of sea glass in her hands and gave them to Omega and Lyana. From where he stood, Hunter could hear the gratefulness in Omega’s voice as the woman tied the thin string around her neck. Her nimble finger worked quite quickly before she took a step back, gently brushing a strand of hair out of Omega’s eyes. 

   The action was so soft that it made Hunter watch her with a peculiar gaze. She was beautiful, but she had a certain quality about her that outshone her beauty — a genuine energy that she revealed as she spoke to Omega with ease.

   When she turned her head, Hunter noticed the flower poised behind her ear — a bright orange flower that brought out the color of her cheeks and the vibrance in her eyes. The woman crouched, her yellow sundress settling around her like a river of color. She grasped Omega’s hands and squeezed, grinning up at her before winking. Omega giddily nodded her head up and down and squeezed the woman’s hand as she turned, pulling her along as they both followed Lyana down the road. 

   The woman’s dress billowed after her as she ran. She had a captivating smile, cheeks flushed and eyes blazing. The wind blew through her hair as if it was created just for her, carrying her laughter to his ears.  

   The moment they took the corner, Hunter followed, interested to see where this night would take him. 

-

You liked Lyana’s new friend. Omega was a firecracker of energy and curiosity, roaming to and fro with the intention to seek, find, and explore. When Lyana brought her to your doorstep and made introductions, you just knew that the little blonde was bound to become a new regular in your jewelry shop. She loved exploring the various things you created, including the sea glass necklaces. 

   When it came time to meet the girls outside, you made sure to grab the necklaces she’d been eyeballing. Omega’s expression of shock was worth it when you presented it to her, and her soft voice of thanks was enough to make your heart melt. 

   True to the promise you made to both girls, you took Lyana and Omega to the market square full of music and dance. Omega’s eyes were full of amazement as she looked over the festivities. Vibrant colors glowed from the lanterns hanging overhead. Streamers swayed in the wind like spinning ribbons of silk. Dancers formed circles that spun quickly, cheering and coaxing others to join. Lively, upbeat music played from the performers standing around a tall statue. They played with passion, dancing alongside a few children that joined their sides. 

   You held both Omega and Lyana’s hands as you guided them to the dancing circle in the center of the square. While Lyana was excited to join, Omega’s reluctance grew until she pulled her hand away, shaking her head as she took a step back. 

   “I can’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve never danced before.” 

   You smiled softly. “Would you feel better if I went first? Then you can see how it goes and if you want to join, you can jump in next to me and Lyana.” 

   Omega nodded and you grinned, turning to face the circle. Adjusting the flower in your hair, you picked up your dress and barged into the dancing circle, joining those who moved in unison. It took a moment before you caught up, but falling into step was easy. You spun and twirled and danced like there was no tomorrow, eyes shut as you switched partners and crossed the open circle alongside others. As the circle broke apart, paving way for duos and trios to have their own moment of dance, you noticed Omega and Lyana holding hands while they jumped back and forth and all around, laughing and giggling like girls in their prime. 

   The music picked up its pace and the circle reformed. Dresses were kicked up and hands were clapped loudly, laughter and whistles echoing from the bystanders that watched. Entranced by the pure jubilance of the music, and the energetic feeling of the dance, it was as if the world melted away, leaving nothing but you and the music. 

   You closed your eyes to enjoy the moment when suddenly, your balance slipped away as you bumped into the person beside you. Just before you could hit the ground, a pair of hands grabbed you by the elbows, hauling you up to a firm chest. Planting your hands on the figure’s vest, you struggled to catch your breath as you laughed, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

   “My goodness,” you gasped, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry-” 

   The moment you looked up, all of the words just left your lips. A knot twisted in your gut when you met a pair of rich brown eyes, that crinkled with amusement as they gaze down at you. 

   “Careful,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. 

   You wet your lips, uncertain if you could even speak, when Omega’s voice suddenly echoed from behind you. 

   “Hunter! 

  She and Lyana ran up to you and the man, halting in their tracks the moment they saw the odd position you were in - your hands on Hunter’s chest with his on your arms.  They looked at one another with wide eyes and started giggling, causing you to take a step back and shyly fiddle with the flower behind your ear, cheeks as red as the lights above you. 

   Hunter put his hands on his hips, a little furrow in his brow, but he didn’t seem threatening. It was the observant gaze of a father.

You couldn't help but stir at the sight. Not only was he protective but he was quite gorgeous. He had the structure of the marble statues you’d seen in the Archium. Soft features, like the roundness of his jaw and the curve of his nose, but there was strength as well. Strength in his rich brown eyes as they moved from you to Omega. 

   And that strength, however threatening it may have been to others, softened when he placed his hand on Omega’s head, teasing her with a little tug on the ends of her hair. 

   “Having fun?”

   It was easy to admit that you were entranced by everything about him - from the way he carried himself to the way he spoke. He was both gentle and sturdy, something that drew you in and made it impossible to look away. 

   “Yeah!” Omega giggled, breathless from the amount of running she did earlier. “Lyana took me around the market and look-!”

Shoving her hands in her pockets, she pulled out various little trinkets: a knife made of whalebone, bracelets fashioned from polished stone, a ring of silver with a little opal on top, chewing gum from sweet sap, and a few others that she’d been gifted by the market goers. 

   With the tip of his finger, Hunter nudged around the items in her palm before offering her a small smile. He gave the blue powder on her cheek a gentle swipe with his thumb before settling his hand on her shoulder, eyes shifting to you.

You stuck your hand out, smiling bashfully.

  “Everyone calls me Coral around here,” you said, managing a small chuckle. “And I promise that I’m not as clumsy as I seemed earlier.” 

   “I know,” he remarked, shaking your hand. When he noticed your odd look, he backtracked, eyes widening just slightly. “I mean I saw you, uh, dancing. You’re good — at dancing, I mean.”

   Ignoring Omega and Lyana’s giggles, you bowed your head in thanks, your voice soft as you hummed, “Thank you, Hunter.” 

   He gave a small smile. “My pleasure, Coral.” 

   “It’s a giving festival, Hunter,” Omega sang, nudging his side. “It’s custom here to give something to someone that you meet for the first time. Look, Coral gave me a necklace from her shop! Lyana has the same one so we’re matching.” 

   Hunter frowned, glancing down at his empty pockets. He flashed you an apologetic look and you couldn’t help but giggle. “Sorry, I don’t have anything on me at the moment.” 

   You shook your head, removing the flower from behind your ear. Taking a step forward, you closed the gap between you and Hunter, tilting your head to look up at him as you tucked the flower in the breast pocket of his vest. 

   “It’s not a matter of obligation,” you murmured softly, adjusting the petals so that they were all on display. “It’s just a matter of acceptance. You’re new here, so we give you-” You glanced down at Omega and winked. “-and you, these gifts to welcome you to Pabu. You accept these gifts; we accept you.” 

   Lyana smirked, adding, “Kisses are accepted too!” 

   “Alright that’s enough from you two,” you interrupted, shooing them away when the two girls started giggling. “Go back to dancing — and make sure you get some of those dragon candies before Sebby runs out!” 

   Lyana gasped and snatched Omega’s hand. As she began to pull her away, Omega gave you and Hunter a happy wave, turning with a laugh that made Hunter’s eyes soften. 

   “She hasn’t been this happy in a long time,” he noted in a quiet voice, unable to look away from the girl even when you glanced at him. “Things have been… they’ve been tough on her.” 

   “I know,” you murmured, causing him to arch his brows in surprise. “Omega kind of told me everything about your current situation. She told me so much about you and your brothers, I practically feel like I know you already.” 

   “Of course,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry, she has a habit of doing that.” 

   “Don’t worry,” you assured, nudging his side. When his lip twitched up, you smiled. “I can keep a secret. Besides, I’d like to see her around more often. Lyana has a hard time making friends and Omega’s brought out a side of her that I haven’t seen before — she just looks so youthful when she isn’t shouldering some of Shep’s burdens. Being a single father is tough on the two of them and I think having some support is doing them both some good.” 

   What you said must have resonated deeply with Hunter for he fell into silence, a distant look in his eyes as he watched Omega receive a cup of steaming candies from a stand. She looked his way and lifted the cup above her head, a toothy grin forming when Hunter nodded at her in approval. 

   “Thank you for making her feel accepted here.” 

   “Of course… but what about you?” 

   He glanced down at you and arched a brow. 

   “Do you feel accepted here?” You clarified, gesturing towards everyone in the market square. “I know how hard it can be to settle down. I had a similar experience before I found myself on Pabu. It took me a while to adjust but once I did, this place became my safe haven like it did for so many others.”  

   Hunter took a moment to look over the festivities. He watched the people smile and dance and greet one another. He watched them live their lives, sighing. 

   “As long as Omega can find a home here, that’s all that matters.”

   “It isn’t a crime to put your own needs forward, Hunter. Think of what’s good for you as well.” 

   “We still have unresolved matters,” he explained with a trace of frustration; not at you, but rather at the ‘unresolved matters’ that he mentioned. “There are things that need our attention-” 

   You removed your hand from around his arm to place your palm against his chest. He stopped talking, his eyes honing in on yours as you peered up at him with a seriousness he hadn’t seen before. 

   “Can you resolve any of those things from here?” You questioned, arching a brow.

   He hesitated, then shook his head. 

   “Then it’s best for you-” You glanced back at Omega, “-and her, to put those aside for now and just accept this time of peace. She needs your attention too, not just your protection.” Giving him a little smile, you fiddled with the flower in his pocket, murmuring, “Care to take a bit of advice from a stranger?” 

   Hunter’s eyes crinkled as he nodded, amusement in his voice when he hummed, “Go ahead.”

   You absentmindedly adjusted the petals as you spoke. “Surviving is the bare minimum of what it means to live. Thanks to you, Omega knows how to survive — maybe you should show her what it means to live a little bit as well.” 

   “How do you suppose I do that,” he asked with a sincereness that made your heart shatter. “Us clones don’t do much living — all we’ve ever done is survive.” 

   “Learn from others,” you suggested. “Learn from their experiences and their own lives… and if you feel comfortable with accepting help, let us show you so that you can show Omega.” 

   Hunter’s nod was so sudden that it made you furrow your brow in confusion. 

   “Alright,” he said without an ounce of hesitation. 

   “Alright?” You echoed, shocked by how quick he agreed.

   To your surprise, Hunter took your hand in his own, engulfing your fingers, and began to pull you towards the girls across the square. His expression was muted but there was a little smile on his lips as he said lightly, “We need to learn how to live, right? Then show me how.” 

   You laughed as you nodded, squeezing his hand back in return. “Alright, but you can’t get mad at me when the time comes for you to step out of your comfort zone. Living doesn’t mean it’s always comfortable.” 

   “I can handle a bit of discomfort." 

   “We’ll see about that." 

   You called out for Omega and Lyana as you approached them, earning wide-eyed looks of excitement the moment they noticed you and Hunter holding hands. To their dismay, you let go just to give Omega a gentle nudge toward Hunter. 

   “Hunter said he’d like to dance with you,” you lied, causing Omega’s eyes to widen as they flicked up to him. 

   “Really?” 

   His reluctant gaze shifted from Omega to you, narrowing just slightly before he looked back down and offered his little girl a small smile, nodding. When he held out his hand, Omega grasped it with excitement and pulled him to the dancing square, rambling on and on about the things she experienced while he was busy talking to you. As he was pulled into the sea of dancing duos and trios, he looked back at you with a mixed expression, causing you to giggle and wave. 

   “You like him,” Lyana sang by your side, tugging on your dress. “I think it’s cute. You can’t stop looking at him with googly eyes.” 

   “Don’t act like this wasn’t part of your plan, squid,” you huffed, earning a giggle. “You and Omega don’t exactly look as innocent as you think you do.” 

   “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she sang, taking your hand and squeezing it with a hopeful gaze. “Do you want to dance with me?”

  “How could I ever say no to you? Lead the way, squid.” 

   And lead the way, she did. Lyana pulled you into the circle right alongside Omega and Hunter, swinging you into a spin the moment she had a grip on both of your hands. You spun and spun with her, laughing alongside her giggles, cheering when everyone clapped in unison. Out of the corner of your eye,  you caught a few glimpses of Hunter and Omega. It wasn’t so much of a duo dance as it was Omega dancing while Hunter held her hands, occasionally spinning and hauling her up in the air just to hear her laugh. 

   All that mattered was that Hunter seemed to be enjoying himself. He didn’t have the same stress that you noticed in him earlier; no more tense muscles or furrowed expression. Peace sat in his eyes as he danced with the little blonde, living off of Omega’s happiness. 

   Lyana spun and spun you until suddenly, without warning, she let go of your hands, sending you stumbling into the person beside you. You went to apologize but stopped when Hunter’s familiar face looked down at you, his hands sprawled across the plain of your back to keep you upright as he held you in a dip. 

   Omega and Lyana both giggled as they began dancing together, acting as innocent as the little devils could. 

   “What did you say about not being clumsy?” He teased, causing you to flush with embarrassment. 

   “Second time's a charm?” 

   Hunter lifted you, taking your hand to guide you into a spin. He pulled you into him, bringing your back against his chest. 

   “Thank you,” he murmured against your ear, “Tonight’s been fun.” 

   “See?” You hummed, guiding him in a gentle sway from side to side. Almost instantly, the music softened and the upbeat tune became a gentle, harmonious song that eased a bit of peace through the energetic festival. “Can you feel that peace? That is the difference between living and surviving, and there’s so much more for you to experience, too.” 

   “Will you show me?” He asked, causing you to turn your head and give him a credulous smile.

   “Does this mean you’ve decided to stay on Pabu?” 

   “I think that’d be best for all of us.”

   “Then yes,” you agreed. “I’ll help as best as I can… but can I ask why me?”

   “Omega likes you,” he said with an audible smile on his lips, “And I… I trust you... so far.”

   “I’m honored,” you murmured, breaking into a giggle when he spun you around to face him. Your hands slid up and over his shoulders, interlocking behind his head. It was an involuntary gesture to look down at his lips but you couldn’t help it. 

   Hunter had this protective, genuine feeling that made you feel so safe near him. It was an odd thing to notice about someone when first meeting them, but it was only solidified when watching him and Omega. He had a specific gentleness that he kept reserved for her and now, as it seemed, for you as well. 

   What you didn’t expect, however, was for him to feel the same way as you. 

   “Was Lyana telling the truth earlier?” 

   “About what,” you murmured, forcing your gaze to go from his lips to his eyes. 

   “About a kiss being a gift.” 

   Your mind went blank. It took a moment before you nodded, finding the confidence to move your lips and speak. “She was.” 

   He guided you into another spin, gentler than before as he pulled you into his chest. “What does it mean?” 

   “It’s an invitation,” you explained softly. “A gift of vulnerability, as well as a promise. They aren’t given unless they are genuine — it means you find enough value in another person to give them your affection rather than an item. Kissing someone at the Giving Festival is typically a sign of courtship.” 

   “Courtship?” He questioned curiously. “You carry that tradition around here? Didn't take you for an old-school type of girl.” 

   “Well,” you sang, causing him to chuckle. “The elders call it that. I mean, it’s just dating among the younger generations.” 

   He hummed, slow movements swaying you to and fro. As he danced with you around the statue, passing the band that played their gentle tune, he noticed the beautiful flowers on the floor and stopped to pick one up. With gentle fingers, he tucked it behind your ear and gave you a small smile when he noticed how red your cheeks had become. Just like the flower in your hair.

   “Can I kiss you?” He asked gently, tucking away a strand of hair that fell in front of your face. 

   You tilted your head up to him, smiling to hide the fact that your heart was practically beating out of his chest.  

   “Yes,” you breathed, your stomach twisting with anticipation.

   His hand cupped the back of your head, the other gently resting against your back. Hunter pulled you close enough for your chests to touch before he lowered his head, lips skimming over your own. 

   “Are you certain about this?” You whispered against his lips. “You hardly know me.”  

   “I know enough to be certain I want to kiss you,” he hummed. “Are you?” 

   You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. 

   “Just kiss me, handsome,” you said with a smile. “We’ll figure out the rest later.” 

   He smiled as he kissed you, lips curled in amusement even after your lips collided. You couldn’t help but giggle against his mouth when his hand wove through your hair. It was an even bigger surprise when he dipped you, earning a few cheers and hoots of encouragement from those who stood by — including Omega and Lyana who seemed to be the loudest (and happiest) of the spectators. 

   When he pulled away, he never truly left. He kept his hand interwoven with yours, keeping you by his side as the dancing resumed and the festivities regained their upbeat tempo. Hunter pulled you out of the crowd and even though you didn’t return to the dance, the night continued with you showing him various different things throughout the market. From different juice stands to candies (which he denied rather quickly), you showed Hunter all that the market had to offer before stealing him away to show him the island itself. 

   While Omega and his brothers were distracted with the festival, you brought Hunter to the sandy shores. You removed your shoes and coaxed him to do the same before dragging him to the water. He cringed at how cold it was and stiffened when you splashed him, earning a glare that slowly turned into a smile when you turned to run away, laughing as loud and freely as one could. 

   And so the night continued — with music echoing from the city while water splashed and laughter bubbled from the sandy shores. The Giving Festival continued into the morning, and when Omega and Lyana tiredly returned home to find Hunter still missing, the two girls shared a knowing look that washed their fatigue away. They gossiped back and forth about you and Hunter, whispers turning into giggles that then turned into gasps when they realized that Hunter might, someday - possibly - plant roots on Pabu. 

   It occurred to Omega then, as she sat on the floor of Lyana’s bedroom surrounded by blankets and pillows and snacks, that the Giving Festival did, in fact, give her something. It wasn’t jewelry and it wasn’t candy, although she did hold every gift very close to her heart. It wasn’t Lyana and the new friends she’d made that night, including you and all the others she met.

   It was a new home — and that was the gift that Omega found herself cherishing the most. 

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(i'll be replying to comment reblogs in the comments of this post! just so that there isn't too much clutter on the dash 🫶🏼 a huge thank you to those who always have something nice to say about my writing. i might not always respond but please know that you all have my heart and my endless thanks for being so kind and encouraging. may the universe give back the same kindness you've given me, and i having nothing but love for you all!)

#hunter x fem!reader #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch #hunter #hunter tbb #bad batch hunter #hunter bad batch #hunter x reader #hunter x reader fluff #fluff #sw tbb #hunter fanfic #hunter fluff

[woe-begotten-spirit]

So I know not a lot of people in the world have a strong opinion on who is best to ship Middle Earth’s Sun with but I am obsessed with The Lost Tales era Eonwë/Arien (or Fionwë/Urwendi) and the parallels with Elwing and Eärendil. 

The Arien/Tilion thing of Moon in love with the Sun of course makes sense in a sort of collective unconscious mythology type way but something about a romance between Bird and Celestial Body is just 🔥

In both versions our bird flies through the air seeking lover lost at sea

Manwë sent Fionwë his son, swiftest of all to move about the airs, and bade him say to Urwendi that the bark of the Sun come back awhile to Valinor, for the Gods have counsels for her ear; and Fionwë fled most readily, for he had conceived a great love for that bright maiden long ago, and her loveliness now, when bathed in fire she sate as the radiant mistress of the Sun, set him aflame with the eagerness of the Gods. (LT I, VIII)

Indeed for a while mishap fell even upon bright Urwendi, that she wandered the dark grots and endless passages of Ulmo’s realm until Fionwë found her and brought her back to Valinor (LT I, IX)

For Ulmo bore up Elwing out of the waves, and he gave her the likeness of a great white bird, and upon her breast there shone as a star the Silmaril, as she flew over the water to seek Eärendil her beloved. (Silm, ch 24)

who sails in a hallowed ship through the Door of the Night. 

Ulmo draws the galleon of the Sun before the Door of Night. Then speaks Urwendi the mystic word, and they open outward before her, and a gust of darkness sweeps in but perishes before her blazing light; and the galleon of the Sun goes out into the limitless dark, and coming behind the world finds the East again. (LT I, IX)

But they took Vingilot, and hallowed it, and bore it away through Valinor to the uttermost rim of the world; and there it passed through the Door of Night and was lifted up even into the oceans of heaven. (Silm, ch 24)

And then our birds Eonwë and Elwing end up being the ones to deliver the Silmarils to their fated places (from Elwing to Eärendil to Air, from Eonwë to Maedhros and Maglor to Fire and Water)

And thus it came to pass that the Silmarils found their long homes: one in the airs of heaven, and one in the fires of the heart of the world, and one in the deep waters. (Silm, ch 24)

There are several more similarities like the early idea that both Eärendil and Arien encountered mermaids while they were at sea (LT I, commentary on The Tale of Qorinómi and LT II, V) and Tilion originally chasing Eärendil instead of Arien (LT II, V)

And also I just think Eonwë should be allowed to do the apocalypse as revenge for his girlfriend because come on:

For ’tis said that ere the Great End come Melko shall in some wise contrive a quarrel between Moon and Sun, and Ilinsor shall seek to follow Urwendi through the Gates, and when they are gone the Gates of both East and West will be destroyed, and Urwendi and Ilinsor shall be lost. So shall it be that Fionwë Úrion, son of Manwë, of love for Urwendi shall in the end be Melko’s bane, and shall destroy the world to destroy his foe, and so shall all things then be rolled away.’ (LT I, IX)

#silmarillion #tolkien #eonwe #arien #elwing #earendil #lotr #woe-begotten-spirit