#Pairing: A Token of My Great Respect | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

christopherisfoive · 3 months ago

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Hi, Jules! I hope you have a great day, whenever you read this 💖

I was wondering if you could write something with the prompts 14, 7 and 4 for Han, please.

Love your work and I'm sending you lots of kudos and appreciation 🫶

Game served, Emy ☕

Your Han one‑shot is on the table—rival‑shift chaos, jealousy sparks, hoodie swaps, and that “you’re the only one I want” moment. Dive in and let me know if the flavor hits just right! Sorry I've been delayed!

TableTop Turbulence

Pairing: Han Jisung × Reader (Y/N)

Genre: Fluff • Enemies‑to‑Lovers • Board‑Game Café AU

Prompts: Wearing each other’s clothes • “You can’t flirt your way out of this one.” • Enemies‑to‑lovers tension • Jealousy that turns into something more

Six‑oh‑three, rain streaking the front glass. You stabbed the attendance tablet as Jisung tumbled through the staff door.

“Clock’s already hot,” he chirped, shaking water from his hair.

“Clock is punctual,” you retorted. “Learn from it.”

Chris, wiping dice trays nearby, chuckled. “Y/N, if you bottle that sass I’ll sell it by the shot.”

Jisung’s grin slipped a millimeter at Chris’s easy praise. You noted the flicker, satisfaction warm.

Ella slid past carrying syrup pumps. “Hi, Jisung. Hoodie swap today?”

He winked. “Maybe if management stops glaring.”

“You can’t flirt your way out of late slips,” you shot back, snatching his apron from the hook and smacking it against his chest.

“Bet I can flirt my way into a break,” he murmured, only for you to hear.

Trivia rush hit. Ella stationed herself beside Jisung at the espresso bar, asking about grind size every four minutes. Each shoulder bump tightened the coil in your stomach.

At the register Chris praised your upsell tally. “You’re a machine tonight.”

Jisung’s head snapped up, milk pitcher sputtering. “I made a swan in foam and nobody clapped.”

“Swans don’t fix inventory,” you muttered.

He flashed teeth. “Swans keep customers coming back, clipboard.”

The nickname made Ella giggle. You answered by refilling tokens with military precision and zero eye contact.

Near closing, Ella “accidentally” knocked a hazelnut bottle. Syrup river. Jisung swooped in with towels, Ella clinging to his sleeve.

“You are impossible,” you hissed, grabbing a mop.

Ella pouted. “He’s just helpful.”

Jisung flashed that grin. “Someone appreciates me.”

Chris re‑entered, raising a brow at the sticky chaos. “Y/N, handle register. Jisung, clean‑up crew. Ella, inventory syrup—carefully.”

He handed you his own oversized brown hoodie as makeshift spill‑guard. “Wear this, keep your shirt syrup‑free.”

You tugged it on; fabric hung past your thighs. Jisung’s eyes narrowed, jaw ticking at how easily Chris dressed you.

Enemy point scored.

Storm intensified. Chris emerged again, phone pressed to ear. “Driver bailed. Five hot chocolates to Cedar Hall, asap.”

Ella opened her mouth, but you beat her. “I’ll go.” You were still wearing Chris’s hoodie—perfect ammunition.

Jisung scowled. “I’m faster.”

“Clipboard has legs,” you said, snagging the carrier tray. Rain swallowed the door behind you.

Thirty minutes later you dripped through the doorway, hair plastered. Ella leaned over Jisung’s shoulder watching a meme on his phone. Her laugh too close, his smile too wide. Jealousy hit like espresso straight.

You peeled off Chris’s hoodie and draped it over a chair to dry, pointedly ignoring them.

Jisung’s glance tracked every movement.

Chris reappeared carrying a box of new card sleeves. “Y/N, these need alphabetizing tonight. I trust you more than these two clowns.” He ruffled your damp hair on the way upstairs.

Jisung’s latte spoon clanged against the counter. Ella raised both brows at the tension humming.

He waited until Chris vanished. “Golden employee, huh? Even got a personal hair tousle.”

You stacked sleeves calmly. “Earned respect is sweeter than pity flirts.”

Ella blinked at the brewing storm, mumbled an excuse, and retreated to the dish pit.

Chairs flipped. Lights dimmed for close. Only rain and rivalry remained.

Jisung cornered you by the dice shelf. “That hoodie looked huge on you.”

“It served its purpose.”

“What purpose? Making me crazy?”

“You seemed busy.” Jealous bite snuck into your tone.

His eyes flashed. “You first. Watching Chris fuss over you—” He cut himself off, breath sharp. “Are we keeping score or actually playing?”

“You started the game.”

He stepped closer, voice dropping, “Then I’m ending it.”

“I already told you about flirting.”

“Not flirting.” He slipped his own black hoodie off, draped it over your shoulders, fingers lingering at the collar. “Declaring.”

Vanilla and roasted beans surrounded you. Heart hammered.

“I push because you push back,” he murmured. “But I am done pretending competition is all this is. Y/N, I want you.”

The dice shelf dug into your spine but the confession softened every edge. You fisted hoodie fabric, tugging him until foreheads touched.

No kiss—tension sweetness enough.

Upstairs a door creaked. Chris’s voice floated down, amused. “Lock up when the leaderboard settles, lovebirds.”

Jisung laughed against your hair. “Game over?”

“Game changed,” you corrected.

“Winner plans our first date,” he whispered.

Challenge accepted in your grin. Fingers laced, you stepped into the rain’s hush, TableTopia neon painting gold on the wet street. The scoreboard would never be the same.

a week later.

A fresh trivia board went up and customers buzzed louder than the espresso machine. Ella twirled to the register, eyes bright when Jisung emerged from the back room in his usual black hoodie.

“You still owe me that Carcassonne lesson,” she said, leaning across the counter.

Without missing a beat Jisung reached behind her, lifted the spare apron with your name stitched on the pocket, and slipped it over your head. His knuckles brushed your collar while every guest at the bar watched.

““Lesson’s booked,” he told Ella, tightening the apron ties at your back, “but she and I already have plans.”

Your cheeks heated; Ella’s smile faltered. She straightened, nodding once before turning to the milk fridge.

Chris called from the pastry case, “Teamwork looks good on you two.”

Jisung winked at you, then tapped the edge of the tip jar with a quiet grin before heading back to the machine.

Ella returned with trays, humming along to the café playlist, yet she kept a respectful distance the rest of the night. When closing time finally arrived Jisung hung his hoodie over your shoulders without being asked.

“One more step forward for us,” he whispered.

You nudged him with your elbow. “Plenty more nights like this ahead.”

He grinned. “Good. That should keep things interesting.”

Outside, rain threatened but never fell, leaving the pavement clear beneath TableTopia’s gold neon glow. You and Jisung stepped into the soft night, hands intertwined, rivals turned partners under the sign that first lit your feud.

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lailoken · 1 year ago

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The Gloaming Tethers

The Gloaming tethers are a pair of ritual fetishes that hold great significance in my personal tradition.

The first of the two pictured here (from left to right) serves a talismanic link to my Witch-Queen—who I often call Bone Mother—and to the Chthonic Realm of the Underworld that she oversees. It was fashioned from a Black Basalt Hagstone, secured by a cord strung with 13 bone beads, including six beads made from Prehistoric Horse Bone, six beads made from Prehistoric Deer Bone, and one bead made from Antique Whale Bone that I inherited. The end-piece is a token of 6,000 year old Bog Yew, carved with a triskelion, and glazed with a wood varnish made using Storax resin. I utilize this Talisman when working with Ancestral Spirits, or with Chthonic Wights, such as psychopomps.

The second of these serves a talismanic link to my Witch-Father—who I often call Wilding King—and to the Upper Realm of the Elemental World that he oversees. It was fashioned from a White Quartz Hagstone, secured by a cord strung with 13 handmade wood beads of alternating Elder, Hazel, Hawthorn, and Rowan. The end-piece is a token of local Elk shed-horn, carved to resembled a great tree, and glazed with a wood varnish made using Amber resin. I utilize this Talisman when working with Animistic Spirits or Elemental Wights.

Each of these Ritual Tethers are sacred to me. They each rest in places of power, pertinent to their respective magical nature, when not in use.

#gloaming tethers #ritual implements #ritual tools #wending way #hagstone #quartz #basalt #spirit work #Wilding King #Bone Mother #Witch-father #witch-queen #witching gods

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 10 months ago

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Hi Whimsy! This is my first time making a Kinktober request so I apologize if I'm not doing the right format, please give up a head up if I'm missing anything.

I would like to make request on Apollo/Hyacinthus aphrodisiac fic please. For the details: Hyacinthus bought an aphrodisiac potion from Aphrodite to spice up their intimacy. They have a talk about limitations because this is their first time using the potion, but then they accidentally overdone and went wild together.

Thank you in advance and I hope you had a great day!

My first Apollocinthus request! Huzzah!

"A most potent gift"

Pairing: Apollo/Hyacinthus

Themes: Soft | NSFT

Warnings: Aphrodisiacs | Kissing | Biting/Marking | Anal sex

Wordcount: 3.5K words

Summary: Hyacinthus procures a rare tonic from the Goddess of Love, and he and Apollo use it on themselves when they spend the night together.

A/n: In my stories of these two, Hyacinthus is given the nickname “Cinthus” by his friends and family, and his sister, Polybea, is an “oops” baby who was born when he was twelve.

Minors DNI | 18+

Hyacinthus lifted the clear, bejeweled vial to the sunlight pouring in through wide, arching gaps between the marble columns of the great temple. It was full of a rare and precious draught that glittered like finely spun gold.

“My sincerest thanks, oh Golden One, for your gift,” he said at length and bowed deeply. “It shall be gratefully received by Lord Apollo and I both.”

“Take great care when you indulge in it, Hyacinthus, Prince of Sparta,” Aphrodite warned, though not unkindly. She was seated on the edge of the altar hewn in her honor, admiring the costly perfume she held in her gilded hands. It was one of several rich offerings the Spartan prince had laid out for her in exchange for her gift. “Apollo is a god, but you, on the other hand, are mortal. The passions brought forth by this tonic would be too much for one such as you to bear.”

“I understand,” Hyacinthus said. He straightened himself, but kept his gaze lowered out of respect. He also held the vial in his hands like it was a fragile jewel, for the Goddess of Love would not take kindly to the sight of him being careless with it in any way. “And I will heed your counsel. Farewell, my lady. And my humblest thanks once again for your generosity.”

The wind swiftly rose, and the air grew as sweet as the fragrance clinging to Aphrodite’s crimson robes. Still, Hyacinthus stood where he was with his head bowed. He trembled when warm hands clasped his cheeks and lips as soft as silk pressed against his brow.

“Farewell, Hyacinthus, prince of Sparta,” Aphrodite said, her voice as soft as her kiss. “I shall remember you to Apollo when I see him upon my return.”

Suddenly, the wind died as swiftly as it came, and the air grew strangely bereft of the potent scent that sweetened it before. Hyacinthus lifted his eyes. Aphrodite was gone, as were the offerings he presented to her. Nothing but a cold and empty altar remained in their stead. He took a deep, steadying breath to compose himself, turned swiftly on his heel, and walked away. He was pleased with not offending the goddess, and he was elated with the rare token he had received. It would be put to good use when Apollo called on him next.

The sun was already setting when Hyacinthus rode back to the palace accompanied by half a dozen guards who had kept to the temple garden while he prayed within. They knew nothing of what took place, and the prince uttered not a word of it to them, though he knew they were all curious. It was not his place to speak of such things unless encouraged, and Aphrodite had not encouraged him to do so. He guarded his tongue instead and talked of other matters during the chief of the journey.

“Are you preparing for the summer games, Cretheus?” He asked the soldier beside him. “Is your twin preparing for it also?”

“Every day whenever opportunity allows, my prince,” Cretheus said, glancing back over his shoulder. His brother rode right at the back, keeping a sharp eye on the bustling streets and crowded terraces they rode by. “Arion is certain he will emerge the better of us two. I, on the other hand, believe otherwise.” The captain of the palace guard and Hyacinthus’ friend of many years turned his attention back to the prince and grinned. “The others have begun a wager. What say you, my prince? Would you care to add something to the pot?”

“Perhaps I will,” Hyacinthus said, grinning also. He kicked his heels into the flanks of his horse when the gates of the palace that towered over the other homes loomed ahead of them. “See me on the morrow, captain!” He cried even as his horse cantered down a wide, unpaved path edged with twisted apple trees and myrtle shrubs. “I will have decided how much to pledge by then!”

His mother and sister were the first to greet him upon his arrival. They stood in the outer courtyard when he rode through the palace gates. The sky was now a deep violet, and the first stars were already burning brightly between wisps of darkened clouds. Slaves garbed in simple robes of charcoal gray ran to and fro, lighting torches and braziers. Soldiers would gather around them later when they sought a respite from the night’s cold.

“Cinthus,” Diomede called out to him. She stood beneath the branches of an ancient oak tree, her daughter’s hand firmly in her own. Polybea was all of nine, and too playful for her own good. Her mother did not want her to run toward the horses, lest she startle them and put herself in harm’s way. “Pray tell me what became of your visit to the temple?”

“It was better than I had hoped, mother." Hyacinthus returned, reining his horse to a stop. A slave came forth and took the steed into his care after he dismounted it. “I believe the Golden One heard my prayers.”

Diomede espied the supple leather saddlebag her son loosened carefully and took to hand, and she bit her tongue all the same. Hyacinthus had said little of his intentions, save that he wished to visit the temple dedicated to the daughter of Ouranos. She would have to wait until he decided to speak to her of it.

“That is good,” she said, twining her free arm around his when he joined her. “Now come. Your father expects you to bathe and join him in the barracks hall for dinner.”

Hyacinthus led her and his sister to the women’s chambers on the upper floor before parting ways. He stalked to his rooms at the end of a dimly lit passageway and left the saddlebag he carried at the foot of his bed. Then he rang a little bell for a slave. He needed to bathe and dress before going to the barracks. His father would not take kindly to him arriving in the hall set aside for the soldiers to have their meals while dressed in sandals covered in dust or garbed in robes smelling of sweat and horse. He was a prince, after all, and he was expected to comport himself as such.

The slave who answered his summons led him to the bathing chamber set aside for the lords of the palace. Here Hyacinthus disrobed himself before walking into the sunken pool filled with fragrant water, though he did not linger long. He bathed as quickly as he could, then he dressed in the robes the slave laid out for him on a marble bench: a tunic of crimson and gold that had been given to him as a gift by a wealthy merchant hoping to curry favor with the king, a fine leather belt, and soft doeskin sandals. Hyacinthus studied his reflection in a silvered-looking glass the slave held up for him while he combed his hair. He looked presentable, and very much the image of a prince. Pleased with his efforts, he gave the comb for the slave to take, and he left for the barracks. Dinner would begin soon.

Cretheus met him on the way. He accompanied the prince down a long corridor until they reached a vast hall decorated sparsely before going to sit with his own friends. Hyacinthus spoke with him and those around him for a few moments. He was also reminded of the wager. He again promised to pledge a prince’s portion, and then he excused himself. His father was already seated, and he awaited him.

The meal that night consisted of thin, flat disks of bread and roasted fish dressed in lemon and herbs. There was black broth and cheese also, and figs that were already in season. Hyacinthus sat with his father upon the raised dais, speaking with the soldiers who were invited to sit and eat with them that particular night. It was a custom Amyclas, his father, began after he became king. It did not matter if they were the sons of nobles or lowborn youth of uncertain birth. Amyclas would call a score of them to his table, and he would speak to them. Sometimes, he would ask after their families. Other times, he addressed their concerns or any failings they discovered within his army. And he learned much. Hyacinthus was asked to do the same since he turned ten and three, for such would be the duty that would fall to him the day he ascended the throne.

Hyacinthus ate all that was served to him in haste, so eager was he to be gone. “Are you hoping to meet someone, my son?” Amyclas leaned over and whispered in his gruff voice.

“Why do you ask, father?” Hyacinthus replied with an innocent air. His father did not know that Apollo was his companion, and neither did his mother. He was not yet ready to speak to them of such a thing.

“You finished your meal uncommonly fast,” Amyclas explained, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. He paused when a slave came to take away their dishes. “You even ate your bowl of black broth without complaint, and I know how much you loathe it. You did so because you wish to leave, and you wish to leave because you wish to meet someone. That is the only notion I can think of. Pray who is it? Is it the daughter of someone at court? Perhaps I can speak to her family on your behalf.”

Hyacinthus flushed from cheek to chest. His father missed so little. “I cannot say for the moment,” he began. “Perhaps I will speak to you and mother about them later on, but I cannot do so for now.”

“You cannot speak about this person.” The king arched a brow. He lowered his voice even more. “Is your companion the son of a noble, then? Or is he a soldier you formed an attachment with and are afraid to speak of?”

“Father…”

“Arrangements have been made in similar instances. And there have been brides who have been agreeable to much the same. Tell me a name after the others have retired to their beds. I will speak with your companion for you and devise a proposal that would appeal to all of us.”

“I cannot tell you, father. I am not yet ready to do so.”

“You insist on not telling me,” Amyclas murmured. He did not like what he heard. Hyacinthus hid little from his family concerning the company he kept, and this gave his father pause. “Is this companion of yours one of the slaves? Pray do not tell me you have formed an attachment with one of the slaves.”

“My companion hails from high birth and fortune, father,” Hyacinthus said. He looked into his father’s eyes to impress upon the fact that he was not hiding anything unpleasant. “And they are far from a slave. This much I can tell you.”

“I see.” Amyclas, somewhat appeased, leaned back into his seat. He raised his cup to a slave passing by. It was a signal he desired more wine. “For tonight, I will excuse you. Go on, my son. And tell this companion, whomever they may be, that I insist on speaking with them when the opportunity arises.”

“Of course, my king,” Hyacinthus said, pushing back his chair and rising. He bowed to his father, said his farewells to the others, and left the barracks not long after, highly amused with the idea of his father holding an audience with a literal god in his throne room.

More stars dotted the night sky when the prince returned to his rooms. He locked and bolted the door behind him and removed his sandals. A sigh rose from the tips of his very toes when cool marble pressed against the bottoms of his feet. Relieved, he walked toward a window open to starlit views of distant mountains. Apollo would come to him here, as was his wont to do.

And the prince did not have to wait for much longer. Apollo appeared a pace behind him, the golden glow of his earthly form spilling out all around him like a brilliant halo. Hyacinthus smiled when the light of his companion’s radiance flowed around his feet like waves lapping at the shore of a lake.

“Welcome, my lord,” he said.

Apollo gathered him into his embrace and held him from behind. “Beloved,” he whispered into his ear. “How fare you this night?”

“I am well,” Hyacinthus said. “I trust you know of my meeting the Golden One?”

“Aphrodite spoke of it to me,” Apollo said. He brushed his nose against the prince’s dark hair. It had become even softer since he saw him last. “She also spoke of the draught she gave as a gift. May I ask, my love, why such a thing is necessary? Have I failed to satisfy you in any way?”

It was strange to hear a god express self-doubt in any way. “You please me well, my lord,” Hyacinthus said. He closed his eyes and trembled as Apollo’s tongue ran over the shell of his ear. “I simply desired to try something new.”

“I see. Do you understand you cannot indulge too much of it? And that you must tell me if you are unwell in any way?”

“I do, my lord.”

“Then come, my love. Let us begin a new diversion together.”

Apollo was the first to reach the bed, an olive-wood kline wide and comfortable enough for sleeping. He opened the saddlebag and drew out the vial it held. “This is a most potent thing Aphrodite has given you,” he remarked, removing the stopper easily. The scent of rare spices poured out freely, as did the aroma of other intoxicating things Hyacinthus could not even name. “We shall each have a drop to begin with, and then we shall see where it takes us.”

A drop was what the god offered, and a drop was what the prince was given to taste. Hyacinthus swallowed that sweet-tasting drop, and he inhaled sharply. It was as if every inch of his body had been set ablaze by lust more powerful than any he had ever known.

“Oh,” the prince exclaimed. He grabbed onto Apollo’s arm, stunned by the strength of the desire heaving through his veins. His senses came alive. He could smell the sunlight on Apollo’s form, and he could feel golden ichor, a sign of Apollo’s divinity, pulse just beneath the tips of his fingers like a living thing. It was frightening and exhilarating all at once. “I want more, my lord. More. Please.”

“Hush, my love,” Apollo said. He downed a drop himself. The effect was nowhere as extreme as it was with Hyacinthus, but he succumbed to it all the same. “Come lay with me for a little while,” he implored, putting the vial on the floor. “Let me feel you in my arms.”

Their garments were disposed of without much ceremony. Apollo gently divested Hyacinthus of his belt and his tunic. Hyacinthus tugged at Apollo’s in his hunger to feel flesh against flesh. He inadvertently ripped it down the center, exposing his companion to the waist. Apollo chuckled. He took the prince into his arms again and kissed him, growling in approval when nails dug desperately into his back.

“Come,” he said, stepping back long enough to speak. The tattered remnants of his tunic he pulled over his shoulders and threw onto the pile of garments that had formed on polished stone. Then he pushed the prince onto the bed. “Come lay with me.”

Apollo was determined to not let Hyacinthus have any more of the potion provided to him. In the end, however, he yielded to the prince’s entreaties and allowed him a second drop and a third. He helped himself to more of it and returned the vial to its place in the saddlebag. Every sensation was sharper to even him and more defined. He could hear the beat of the prince’s heart. It was as loud and clear as a drum. He could feel the fire already pooling low in the prince’s belly, and he could smell the faint redolence of sandalwood and pomegranate oils lingering along the prince’s limbs. He savored them, all of them, and, when he joined the prince in bed, and the prince reared up to kiss him, he allowed himself to be drowned in them.

There was no patience this time, no tender preparation or gentle caresses. Wilderness tore at them both, urging them to take, and take, and take. Hyacinthus hissed when teeth marred his throat, his chest, and his sides. He cried out his pleasure when Apollo took him to hand, and he whimpered when he held him even tighter. Nevertheless, such acts were not enough to satisfy him fully, and he made it clear with his appeals for more of everything. Apollo swiftly left the bed and searched for the oil. He found it where it always was, right at the bottom of the heavy chest beneath a window facing the east. He wasted no time readying himself, and he certainly wasted no time readying the prince. Hyacinthus whined softly when his thighs were parted by trembling hands and when he was easily breached with two fingers. He writhed against the cushions, his cock bobbing against his belly whenever he moved. Pearlescent beads gathered at the tip, a sign of his growing arousal. Seeing it was enough to compel Apollo to forget all sense of himself. He withdrew his fingers and moved his hand around the prince’s back, raising his hips. Then he slid himself in, sinking as deep as he could manage.

Hyacinthus’ mouth parted in a silent gasp. He could not comprehend being able to take so much, and so quickly. Oh, Apollo had taken him in such a manner before, but never so fully, and never without restraint. Still, it felt just as wondrous, if not even more so. Hyacinthus’ fingers dug into the silk just as Apollo braced his free hand by his shoulder. The god kept a relentless rhythm, growing drunk on the sounds he heard. He was close. He perceived Hyacinthus was close also, and he craved nothing more than to make him spend.

“Harder, my lord,” Hyacinthus all but sobbed, clawing at the cushions beneath him as Apollo drove into him again and again. He wrapped his legs around the god’s hips, digging his heels into his back as if to urge him to go even deeper. “Harder. Please.”

Apollo, inflamed by the command, pulled out and turned Hyacinthus onto his stomach. He grabbed his hips, lifting them again, and he parted Hyacinthus’ legs with his own. Before the prince could say another word, he settled himself comfortably on his knees and pushed his length inside.

Neither prince nor god stopped to consider if the sounds of their coupling carried beyond thick, oaken doors and into the chambers and corridors beyond it. Hyacinthus propped himself on his elbows, his moans as loud as his companion’s. “There,” he cried. Apollo struck a place he had never done before; it made him see stars behind his eyes when he did. “Just there. Harder, my lord. Harder. Oh—”

Warmth spurted against the cushions, painting them repeatedly with thin, clouded stripes. Hyacinthus dropped his head against his arm. So lost was he in the bliss that washed over him that he did not feel the nails cutting little indents into his sides, or the thrusts that grew erratic. Apollo reached his release not long after. He grunted deeply as he spilled his seed, his entire body shivering violently from the euphoria that followed. He thrust until he softened, and then he stilled.

The world came into focus slowly. Apollo was the first to recover from the effects of the potion. He pulled away and collapsed onto his back, breathing as heavily as a mortal who had sprinted for miles. “Have I gone too far, my love?” He whispered hoarsely. “Did I hurt you by what I did?”

“You have not, my lord.” Hyacinthus turned and settled by Apollo’s side, even more worn by what came to pass. He looked up at the god when he renewed his embrace. “But I fear we were far from silent and discrete. Someone would have heard.”

“I will deal with any intruder myself,” Apollo promised, nearly half asleep. Such was the power of the potion they savored. It brought about passions not heard of in stories and songs, and then it brought a sense of great ease, a need for those who coupled to find restful peace in each other's presence.

“I urge you to restrain yourself.” Hyacinthus was half asleep as well. He rested his head in the crook of Apollo’s arm. “The first person to knock on those doors and demand entry may very well be my father. He knows I have formed an attachment with someone. And he insists on speaking with them.”

Apollo laughed. “Your father best be prepared for quite a revelation then. Now come, my love. Let us rest for a while. Dawn is many hours away still, and I have no desire to leave your side until then.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #apollo/hyacinthus #apollo and hyacinthus #apollocinthus #apollo #hyacinthus #greek gods #greek gods and their mortal loves #i hope you like this anon!

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daes0 · 1 year ago

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Chapter 1: “This reminded me of you.”

Rafayel and all the ways he says he l̶̯̞̱̬̘̜̗̏͒̂̐̈͋̍̓ô̶̡͙̤̻̐̓͑̚͝v̴͕͖̙̦̩͚͓̠̌̄͂͒͜ȇ̵̪̆͐̒̈́͠s̶̬̬̼͆͛̚ you.

Pairing: {Rafayel x Reader}

Rating: {Mature} {Violent Content}

Word Count: {1.6k words}

liar liar lover

You haven't seen Rafayel in a bit. It was mostly due to your schedules not colliding, with you being busy with your work as a Deepspace hunter and him busy meeting up with investors and preparing for a major art exhibition with the Flux Arts gallery. So you're surprised, then, when you're walking back to your desk and see Rafayel chatting with your coworkers.

Tara notices you first. "_____, why didn't you say that you're friends with Rafayel!"

"I didn't know you guys were into art," you explain as you grab a seat and move it closer to the commotion.

"It's mostly just Tara," Nero explains as he sinks a little lower into his desk.

Rafayel smiles up to you, unusually shy in front of your friends. "I brought you something."

"Alright everyone, clear out," you say, pushing Tara's rolling chair away.

She hums in disagreement but doesn't complain, playing wingwoman.

Nero narrows his eyes at you. "Why do I have to go?"

Tara comes back quickly, grabbing the back of Nero's rolling chair and taking him with her. "Don't worry, _____, me and Nero actually have to discuss top secret details."

"We do?" he questions as he's pulled away.

Finally alone, Rafayel takes a breath of relief. "Thank you. I didn't want to be rude but they're… a lot."

"It's mostly just Tara being Tara." You shake your head at their antics. "You had something for me?"

"Yes!" He takes out a leather-bound journal. "I was trying to keep it safe for you. I actually found it a couple days ago."

You take the journal, flipping it open. You find a four-leaf clover amidst the pages, pressed delicately. A token of his affections.

"This reminded me of you," Rafayel explains in a quiet voice.

Your heart absolutely melts. Thoughts of how he found this course through your brain. Did he search for it? Or did he happen to find it and thought of you? Either way, you can't help the small blush spreading on your face.

"Rafayel…" you start, not knowing how to properly accept the gift, how to show how much you appreciate it.

"I missed you," he explains. Then, regaining his composure, he quickly adds: "I mean, I miss my bodyguard. You've been slacking off with your duties! What if I get hurt while you're away?"

A giggle escapes your lips. "I'll be sure to see you more, Rafayel."

He beams. "Great! The bribe worked!"

You both hear a distant laugh, followed by a shush.

Seems your friends were still listening in.

"You're much too kind, Rafayel, to be bringing it personally."

Rafayel smiles at Francis Cortez, an art critic who favored Rafayel's work. He leans the painting up on the wall. "I've been following your critiques for a while now. I really respect your eye for art."

Francis beams at the praise. "Well, even so, it is rare for a creator of your caliber to personally see to your sold creations. I wasn't expecting this during the auction."

"I don't often do this," Rafayel admits. He takes a few steps back, trying to find the best place for the painting. "But the location can be part of the art, don't you think?"

The man laughs in agreement. "Well said!"

The painting seems to wobble, but Francis does not notice.

Rafayel hesitates, before going towards the door. "I unfortunately can't stay to see the finished piece, but I'm glad to have brought it in for you."

Francis grabs at Rafayel's arm. "What are you doing?"

Rafayel tries to shrug it off with a smile, but Francis' grip is strong. Unfriendly. "I have to leave."

Francis suddenly laughs, a boisterous sound that resonates across the room. He stops when Rafayel does not laugh with him. "No, no, no, surely you don't mean to leave before setting it up? Why come here in the first place if you won't see to its proper place?"

The painting seems to stretch out, hitting the wall with a bang. This time, Francis notices.

Rafayel takes the time to push past Francis and close the door, locking it shut and forming a small flame within the knob, effectively welding it close by melting its structure.

Francis starts towards the door, before the Wanderer knocks him down, claws attached to Francis' shoulders and pinning him down with its weight. It roars, a cry so strong that it paralyzes the man underneath it. Its jaw slowly lowers, licking the air in anticipation towards its meal.

"You've been too kind to me, Francis," Rafayel says as the wanderer growls at its prey. He smiles in his confidence. "Much too kind."

Francis pulls at his pocket, but the gun splays out, moving away from him on the floor and landing right by Rafayel.

Rafayel goes to grab it, "Nice try-" when suddenly the wanderer jumps at him instead.

Francis stumbles up, gripping at his wounded shoulder, before barreling towards the door. He tries the door knob, desperate, but the door stays shut.

Rafayel pushes back against the wanderer, but it keeps coming after him with each push. The wanderer growls, saliva flying everywhere as it keeps trying to attack. In a last ditch effort, Rafayel takes out a dagger and buries it in the wanderer's neck. The creature roars, a repulsing guttural cry due to the blade piercing its trachea, before snapping at Rafayel with a broken scream.

His hand comes up, an attempt to block the wanderer from encircling its jaw against Rafayel's head, but it instead bites at the flesh of his forearm, almost breaking bone. Rafayel cries out in pain. He uses his other hand to retrieve the dagger and buries it through the wanderer's eye, stopped short due to its skull. Rafayel pulls it back before slamming it back into the wanderer's skull with all his might, and this time it breaks through the bone. He feels it give, feels the slosh of brain matter as he pulls the dagger back out.

The wanderer cries, a pathetic and bloody sound, before finally falling with a thud. Its flesh turns to black dust.

The fight done, Rafayel groans out in pain. He turns towards Francis, a renewed sense of vigor within him. "Almost forgot about you," he can't help but laugh.

"W-why are you doing this?!" Francis wails, scrambling as far away from Rafayel as he can.

Rafayel slowly walks forward, each step reverberating through the room. Francis trips against a large flower vase and it crashes, slashing at his feet. He tries to use the remaining vase to block Rafayel, but Rafayel strides forward with surprising speed and grabs Francis by his bloody tie, stepping over the broken glass. Rafayel lifts him up.

"I didn't want to do this, you know," Rafayel calmly explains.

"Please! Please, I'll give you anything!" Francis begs, "Money, fame, power, anything! Just don't kill me!"

"Really?" Rafayel cocks his head to the side. "Then bring back my home. Bring back all the people you've ordered to kill."

"What- what do you mean?" Francis stammers. "I haven't killed anyone!"

"For Lemuria," Rafayel drawls out as his hand bursts into flames. "Lemuria's oceans will never dry up!"

The blaze takes to Francis' face immediately. He screeches out in pain, but Rafayel holds him down. With his other hand, he grabs at Francis' throat and throws him into the floor.

Rafayel pushes down on Francis, pinning him down so the flames engulf him. He stares into the scared man's eyes as his air slowly depletes, the life in his eyes trembling against the fire.

"You don't even deserve to die," Rafayel says, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "But I'm a good person, you know? You might hate me now, but you'll appreciate my mercy once you're gone."

The man dies in his hands. And Rafayel revels in the newfound power. His lips tremble, and he raises his hand up to the man's jaw. With his dagger, he rips the man's jaw, separating the meat of his flesh.

Rafayel raises the bottom jaw, smiling at his trophy, before pressing it to his lips. A kiss of death, the viscous taste putrid in Rafayel's mouth. He bites down on the bottom lip and pulls it back, breaking off a chunk before spitting it out.

Rafayel lets go. The man falls on top of the pile of broken glass, the shattered pieces piercing through his head. Rafayel resists the urge to mangle the body, to destroy it further, but instead he lets his flames grow. Once satisfied, he brings his bloody hand up, raising the flames up to the walls.

While humans have the ability to reincarnate, their souls cannot leave their remains if they're consumed. Prey cannot move on, cannot live on and cannot die properly. It is the torture they deserve. Rafayel smiles, rubbing the rest of the blood off his mouth with his sleeve.

Finally, he goes to the door and kicks it open, letting the flames spread.

"Is it over?" Francis' butler asks, coming around the corner with a glass of water.

"Yes, and thank you." Rafayel takes the glass and drinks it in. "Make sure to keep yourself safe."

"As you wish," he replies with a short bow.

Rafayel gives him a small nod, before re-entering the room. He breathes it in and enters the void of the flames.

The butler comes in. "He's really gone…" he comments, seeing that Rafayel has disappeared within the flames.

He turns to see his dead master laying on the floor. And the butler smiles. "For Lemuria," he repeats, before making his exit.

END OF CHAPTER 1

#rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #love and deepspace #tw violence #tw blood #fanfiction #lads rafayel #lnds rafayel #l&ds rafayel #lnds #l&ds

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mwolf0epsilon · 2 years ago

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The 501st Gang Meet their 105th Counterparts

A prequel to my last post

Rex, staring uneasily at the fully kitted captain Carno who is just silently staring at him: ...Uh, welcome aboard. I'm sure you'll feel right at home with the 501st and, should you need anything, we're more than willing to accomodate. Carno, continuing to stare menacingly before finally speaking up in a raspy and very hushed tone: I don't like your face. Rex: Wh-- Carno, shoving past him rudely: Stay out of my way, Blondie. I don't need some flashy Jedi's pet putting a spotlight on me. Rex, starting to think this might not be as easy as the briefing made it sound: Oh boy...

James, looking Jesse up and down while playing with his braid: So, is like, the tat supposed to be some kinda statement, or are you just really into licking boots? Jesse, pausing: I... Excuse me?! -staring at James wide-eyed- James: Oooh, it's a statement isn't it? Dang boy, they should slap you on a poster. Every battalion needs a show fathier, I guess! Jesse, glaring: I don't like you. James: Feeling's mutual. This ship ain't big enough for two token pretty boys. Jesse: No, no it isn't.

Hardcase, excitedly showing Clearcut around while talking like a ship running a click per second: Clearcut, allowing Hardcase to drag him around while sort of tuning him out and only picking up on vital pieces of information like emergency hallways, weapons storage and other such things: Hardcase: You don't talk much do ya? That's fine I'll talk for the both of us! Clearcut: By all means, carry on. Hardcase, happily carrying on: I can tell we're both gonna get along really well. Clearcut: I agree.

Kix, staring at Bon who's been shaking and on the verge of tears since arriving: Bon, staring back at Kix with very wet eyes while holding a fully stocked medkit in hand: I get to use this on anyone who comes in here? Kix, blinking: ... Yes. This is the medbay after all. Bon: And I'm allowed to treat them? I'm allowed? Kix, feeling a little uneasy: Yes...? Bon, openly crying now: This is the happiest day of my life... Kix, incredibly uncomfortable: Ah...

Echo & Fives, having a stare down with Wallflower & Nowt: Wallflower & Nowt, staring back at Fives and Echo with an impassive and a smug look respectively: Fives, opens up his mouth to say something: Nowt: Bitch. Wallflower, turning to slap his brother across the face: Captain said to put a sock in it. Nowt: The captain can suck it! If it wasn't for me he wouldn't know half the kark the others get up to when he's not looking! Wallflower: Karkin' snitch! Fives, closing his mouth and looking at Echo: Echo, nodding at Fives as both of them slowly back away from the now furiously arguing Jenga Twins:

Tup, sitting on the floor wrapped in a thin blanket because he was kicked out of his bunk and had his belongings taken: Can I at least have my brush back? Lobo, tossing him a pair of scissors instead: No amount of brushing will make that rat's nest look any less like osik. Tup, narrowly avoiding getting hit by the scissors and now standing up angrily: I'm gonna knock your teeth out. Lobo, equally angry: I'm gonna make you eat your own hair. Tup & Lobo launch themselves at each other and proceed to start a fight:

Dogma, a little overwhelmed as Caprichoso pulls him along while he's supposed to be the one giving him a tour of the ship: Caprichoso, wide-eyed and extremely excited about everything he's seen so far: Wow! You 501st lot have EVERYTHING! Good eats, tons of new gear up for grabs, full training room setup, clean showers, clean barracks, fully stocked medbay... Your Jedi spoil you so good! You must be the greatest troopers ever! Dogma: I... I wouldn't say they spoil us... That'd be a sign of unfair favoritism and would go against the no fraternization rules. And while the 501st certainly has a degree of great competency among many of the GAR's forces, those things you've listed are all requirements that were put forward to the Republic since the beginning of the army's first year of deployment. An ill-prepared and ill-equipment battalion wouldn't serve properly. Caprichoso: I know what you mean. But our general didn't see it that way. Thought we could push ourselves to be better without extra help... But eh! Who cares? The blighter is dead an' buried while we're here now! Gosh... You think your medic could give me a once over? Or or or, maybe we could hit the mess? Or uh! A shower yeah! I haven't had a shower in two weeks... My armour's getting more rank than I am ehehe! Get it? Dogma, moving slightly away from Caprichoso out of mild disgust: I, yes, a hot shower and a hot meal, then I can continue giving you the to-- Caprichoso: YOU GUYS GET HOT WATER?! I LOVE IT HERE ALREADY! -hugging Dogma tightly- We are gonna be such great friends! Dogma, eyes watering at the intense stench of B.O as well as the bone crushing hug of the rather clingy trooper: Stars have mercy...

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mania-sama · 1 year ago

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Just want to say thanks so much for that post about you prefer Kevin/Neil over Neil/Andrew. Yes, I thought I was the only one. Agree with your answers about them, also not that I hate on Andrew but I don't see and feel the chemistry between him and Neil. FYI, I have said this to my AFTG moots once before and got blocked (that is why I never said it again until I found your blog).

And as fan of Haikyuu, don't you feel that Kevin/Neil kinda remind you of some other duo? Yes, Kageyama/Hinata. Wait, I know their personality is different but somehow their dynamic is kinda similar, right?

Sorry, if it's kinda random, but I got into AFTG because a friend of mine said, "You love Haikyuu, right? It's like that but with mafia and troubled kids" (worst advice ever, but I grew to love AFTG, too). And somehow, as I read them, I thought Neil will end up with Kevin if it's mlm story, and he end up with Andrew instead?

Oh yeah, can I ask what do you mean with "Andrew is the most unrealistic part of AFTG"?

Sorry for this long ask, thanks if you want to answer....

hey!! thanks so much for sending an ask! it was not too long; i love reading anything and everything people send me!

So sorry that people have blocked you over something as silly as a ship preference! I see where Andreil comes from; it has plenty of amazing and good qualities, and I'm happy with it being endgame! I just know, in my heart of hearts, that Kevneil should've been the one to cross the finish line. But that's just my opinion, and everyone is entitled to believe or think otherwise.

As far as comparing Hinata and Kageyama to Neil and Kevin, I'm of the opinion that their similarities start and end with their appearances. Outside of being singularly obsessed with one sport, I don't necessarily see the relation. Neil and Hinata are gingers and relatively short, and Kageyama is tall with dark hair. Their dynamics, to me, are different as well; Kageyama and Hinata both strive to get better together, but it isn't the trade-off and companionship that Kevin and Neil hold. Kevneil's dynamic is special in that it's very hard to find a reasonable comparison. They just have so much going on at all times. Kagehina, while a respectable pair, aren't as complex. They better each other even while at constant odds, and while you can say that is the relationship between Kevin and Neil, I feel that it is far too simple of an explanation, almost to the point that it's false.

Your friend isn't wrong to make the comparison. I've often thought this myself, honestly. It's got the same sport-focus while also being about mafia and troubled kids. I actually really like Haikyuu and think it's great; All for the Game essentially combines what I like about Haikyuu and everything I look for in Haikyuu fanfiction (that is, a focus on the individual characters and adding in insane trauma and lore for no reason at all). I personally think it's hilarious. It's one of the many reasons I'm very drawn to this series; it's like reading self-service fanfiction. I am a dead dove girlie at heart, what can I say?

... But on the same token, I have to talk about Andrew. While I don't disagree with my statement that Andrew is the most unrealistic part of AFTG (because he most certainly is), I will also say that this doesn't mean I dislike his character or don't find his story compelling. I do. I resonate with a lot of the ways he processes information, and I like how he represents that not everyone deals with trauma in socially acceptable or "presentable" ways. He's different, and that's okay.

However, here is where I come to a roadblock. I love the Dead Dove: Do Not Eat tag. I like to read when characters, in fanfiction, go through traumatic things. It's cathartic; it's a way for me to separate fiction from reality. I can experience these things without having to get emotionally involved. It's a curious phenomenon. But here's the other thing: I think it's something that should stay in fanfiction.

When you bring these serious topics into a published work, you have to treat it with the lens of professionalism. A video I watched semi-recently explains this very well while talking about the book A Little Life. The creator uses the term trauma porn to describe the general interest in visual works (books/tv shows/movies) where characters go through an unsubstantiated amount of trauma for the sake of... trauma. It's not there for any significant reason other than to be written. That's why it's so popular in fanfiction, and why I'm okay with indulging in it in that format. It's not serious. Fanfiction can be serious, but it's not serious in the same way that A Little Life is meant to be serious. A Little Life would be a perfect fanfiction, but as a published book, it is juvenile and worth very little in the world of trauma exploration.

This is how I feel about Andrew, and in some parts, Jean, in All for the Game. Andrew is raped about a gajillion times in this work. And for what? There is very little reason to keep making him endure this insanely traumatic experience, only for him to wind back in the same exact place he was before. It adds nothing to the story or his character. His original backstory works fine in the narrative: he is repeatedly traumatized as a youth, and this fundamentally changes who he becomes. That is fine. But then it happens off-book... again? To serve as a punishment to... Neil? Then he comes back like nothing happened. As if he was raped for nothing. Because, well, he was. Narratively, no repercussions occurred because of this action. Andrew didn't hold it against him. Neil still experienced the Nest regardless if Andrew did or didn't get raped. Then, it happens... again. This time on-book, and while we do get the satisfaction of seeing his original rapist murdered, it still does nothing. This encounter with his old abuser could have been worth a lot if there had been a proper set-up of conflict, but instead, the author chose to write a rape scene. Because that makes sense? Especially when the character bounces right back as if nothing happened. Because again, nothing narratively happened due to this scene. Aaron gets locked away for a while, and that's about it. It isn't even really a big deal, because they end up working through the details off-book. The team isn't severely impeded by this situation. Nothing happens. Do you see why this is a problem? It's very, very frustrating, and it makes a mockery of a very serious trauma. It is, point blank, trauma porn, and it has no right to be in a serious, published work. Even most fanfiction writers that do write trauma porn would've handled this with more grace and elegance than Nora did.

This alone wouldn't have made Andrew fully unrealistic. Now I want to talk about the issue of the drug he takes. He takes this made-up insanity pill that makes him loopy and goofy. Because of course it does. Even though there is no medical standing for a drug like this to even exist, nor would it medically make any sense at all to cause him to act this way. Furthermore, I am of the opinion that he didn't need to take them at all! Everyone in the book hyped up Andrew's natural state to be horrifying and unapproachable, only for the reveal to be... a stoic guy. I think that he was scarier on the drugs. He was honestly relaxed and seemed to be happier off the drugs despite everyone saying that he was crueler. In the narrative, he didn't even change. The drugs served only as an inhibitor to his playing in the first two books, and another way to make Andrew experience more trauma.

In short, Andrew, to me, is very clearly just a way for a female author to torture a gay male character. I said it, and I will not take it back. I wouldn't care if this was a fanfiction (I do it all the goddamn time), but it's not. It's a published book, and therefore must be reviewed with a critical eye. And she does a lot of this stuff again with Jean, only with a bit more care and finesse. Jean is far more believable than Andrew, and he still runs into many of the same problems that Andrew's character writing fatally experiences.

To quote you, sorry for the long response! I just had a lot to say. I love All for the Game. I honestly think it's a good book series that explores avenues of trauma responses with a fairly entertaining plot; no piece of media is perfect, and some of the greatest have serious problems with them that a lot of people choose to ignore. I love All for the Game despite its many flaws, and I am very excited for the next book of The Sunshine Court duology.

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naradivision · 9 months ago

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Happy Halloween! 🎃

From Miraitabi (+ANGE)

Inspired by these adorable chibi art that was officially released some time ago

🏮 Yuuya Kanata

“Hi there, welcome to our house of Miraitabi! The spooky festival of Jack O’lantern has already been kicking in! And as a honorary Prefect of this house, it has been my pleasure to show you guys around the divisi— Ah, I mean our house. For basic information, the proud symbol of us is a deer! The myth says that they could be your mighty companion who will lead you the way like a divine messenger and also a devoted protector of their homeland… Now shall we head next to our Common Room?”

“Oh, and in case you have come across our House Ghost somewhere, please don’t be afraid to greet her ‘Hi’ or tell her she is really cute. Pft, she’ll be incredibly happy if you do so… Here, these are some little treats from me! Happy All Hallows’ eve, guys!”

You received a treat!

Golden Snitch Chocos – Homemade truffles made from crunchy cookie crumbs balled and dipped in the tender dark chocolate, finally decked in shiny golden foils with a nifty pair of wings, and then… Congratulations! You’ve seized your house’s victory in your palms!

🍡 Asahi Tomoharu

“Greetings, minna-san☆ Welcome again to our dear house of Miraitabi! From here on I shall be your guide next after YuuYu~! Our Common Room is located at that lovely antique mansion surrounded by lots of pretty Hydrangeas over there! But hmm… To give it some thoughts, don’t you guys think it will be even more exciting if those cryptic plants from the series are hiding somewhere as well?! Hahaha, just kidding, just kidding~ By the way, we’re going to meet the Head of this house soon! Well, he is sort of a strictttt one, so you guys gotta tidy yourself up a bit or else your house will lose some scores!”

“…Finally, off you go with my super special tricky treaties☆ Happy Halloween! May us have a nice tea party together sometime, okay?”

You received a treat!

Sorting Hat Fortune Cookies – Do you believe in destiny? O’ young witches and wizards, would you like to try your luck with these wise little hats in the disguise of sprinkle chocolate-coated crispy Tsujiura sembei? Perhaps they will give you the miraculous clue of your dream house in Hogwarts!

💠 Saigo Fuyugami

“…Damn you, brats… Why should I always have to play along with any of your stupid farces?! *sighs* Alright, fine… What’re you doing here, young folks? Here is the Head of this house’s consultation room so where’s your manner? Educated people at this sacred place are treating each other with respect and I hope this isn’t asking too much out of you all, understand? Great… Back to the first question, what made you come all the way to my place again? Wait— WHAT? You’ve arrived at the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry of anywhere else and still doesn’t have a wand?! Hmm… Looks like you’ve got a fortune on your side here, student.”

“…All wise ones know that the great wand chooses their own wizards, therefore, how about picking one from my recommendation?”

You received a treat!

Magic Wand Biscuits – Choose wisely for your chosen one! Each wand was made from a pretzel rod delicately crafted with the rich and high-quality chocolate imbued with its own variety of flavo— Oops, Magic!

Bonus! ANGE 💿

“Dingdong! Would you mind checking on your phone for a bit? …One, two, BOOYA!! TRICK-OR-TREAT☆”

“Hey, you know what? Most Muggle’s devices are quite boggled here at Hogwarts, thus it means you’re the lucky on… Because now you’re getting haunted by the wickedest vengeful spirit of Miraitabi! RAWWRR!!! Tasty snacks are always appreciated, yet such regret that a ghost like me can’t savor any…. Hmph! But interesting stories are fine too! Do you have any funny tale to offer?”

“—Eh?! Really??? Mortal one, do you know what you’re saying?! .………Hmmmm, whatever. As a token of her thanks to your heartfelt compliment, there you can have ANGE’s collection of her super interesting treats! However, the thing is you have to get them from the House’s Prefect instead! So, this time go and tell him ‘You’re doing good today, Mr. Prefect’! Hehehe~ ANGE bets he would hand them to you in an instant if you do that~ (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)”

You received a treat!

ANGE’s Wonder Flavour Beans – Proudly selected by Miraitabi’s one and only baby angel! These wondrous jelly beans are varied with a wild range of flavors, such as Hot Curry, Sweet Potato, Fizzle Ramune, and etc. to the mischievous ones like Clay, Wasabi, Super Lemon, and maybe something mysterious that might leave the ominous metallic taste on your tongue!?

Happy Halloween! 🎃

—Are you guys still up for the Hogwarts AU ? ( ≖‿ ≖ )

#hypmic oc #hypnosis microphone oc #nara division #miraitabi #yuuya kanata #asahi tomoharu #saigo fuyugami #ANGE #hypmic halloween 2024 #halloween event 2024 #hypmic oc halloween #halloween event #my official art #p. aster #freakin finally for my team to officially have their art that I could say mine #it has been years since last time I properly drew #don’t wanna get a lookk at how many hours I was pulling this off but there are 100+ layers like usual… omfg

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cruel-as-the-midday-sun · 5 months ago

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@keeperofquestions @a-hell-of-a-time

*A beautifully carved wooden box is delivered to the palace of Princess Octavia and Prince consort Duedephelon, along with a letter. The paper has been sprayed with a delightful and exotic fragrance: patchouli, cardamom, black pepper and vanilla.*

To Their Highnesses, Princess Octavia of the Ars Goetia & Prince Consort Duedephelon,

It is with the utmost respect and sincerity that I extend my heartfelt congratulations on the occasion of your union. May your bond be one of strength, trust, and unwavering devotion, standing resilient against all that may seek to test it.

Regrettably, due to the pressing demands of governance—both as Regent of Whitcholm and in tending to my own estate and palace in the Ring of Gluttony—I was unable to attend your wedding. It is a matter of great disappointment, for such an auspicious event deserves the presence of all who hold you in high esteem. Nevertheless, my absence in body does not equate to absence in spirit, for I send my warmest blessings to you both.

As a token of my goodwill and to commemorate this momentous occasion, I present to you a pair of finely crafted daggers, each wrought from angelic steel and imbued with ancient magic.

The first, meant for Her Highness, Princess Octavia, is an exquisite blade adorned with intricate gold inlays and encrusted with vibrant turquoise gemstones.

The second, intended for His Highness, Prince Consort Duedephelon, is a dagger of equal craftsmanship, its blade engraved with runes, its handle crowned with a polished emerald of exceptional brilliance.

These weapons are not merely instruments of defense but guardians in their own right. Enchanted to awaken at the first sign of danger, they shall strike against any hand that dares threaten their rightful wielders.

To activate their power, speak the word "Raksha", meaning *protection*. To still them, utter "Shant", meaning *peace*.

May these blades serve as steadfast sentinels, ensuring that you may always protect one another as you embark on this new chapter together.

With highest regards and best wishes,

Maharaja Rakesh Amar Rajput

P.S.

It is a long-held belief in many cultures that gifting knives may symbolize the severing of bonds between the giver and the recipient. To honor tradition and ensure that no such ill omen accompanies my gift, I have enclosed two coins within the box. It is said that by offering a token payment in return, the recipient symbolically "purchases" the blades, thus dispelling any misfortune associated with the gift.

However, I also wish to acknowledge another perspective—one held in Japan—where blades are seen not as harbingers of separation, but as instruments that cut away misfortune and carve a path toward a prosperous future. May these daggers serve as a testament to both protection and renewal, ensuring strength and unity in the journey you embark upon together.

#goetia oc #helluva boss #hazbin!verse #hazbin hotel #wedding event #Octavia #Duephelon #a hell of a time #keeperofquestions

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xixovart · 10 months ago

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oc info dump??!!!

(props to my friend @kindred-spirit-93 for helping create the sillies!!! madr them a good two hours ago and im already obsessed)

for starters, i dont feel like going into a 20-minute explanation of the worldbuilding or story or whatever, this is just gonna be a compilation of some slight details and facts about them, but you should have some context!!

eris [the archer] and mercury/lethe [the elf eared one] are twins. the hidden and forgotten deities of their world choose a person to bless with a superhuman ability, though this only occurs once a millennium to avoid recognition. see, the point of these deities is to secretly oversee the progression of human life, but humans arent supposed to know of their existence. a hundred years ago, an ancient and noble ancestor of the twins was blessed with the power to heal wounds in ways professional medics can only dream of. everh child of the family inherited this gift, including the twins. though strangely, mercury seems to not harness the power to heal. this is a great disappointment to their father, but secret is, mercury has another gift. beyond their family's imagination.

now, as for (head)canons!!

in the distant future, long after their deaths, mercury and eris will be remembered as nothing but a joined set. never one without the other. intertwined. some legends and paintings portray them as joint twins, quite literally joined at the hip. others see them as the sun and moon, circling each other in an eternal dance. but most see them as the personification of light and dark (yin and yang if you will), one cannot exist without the other, when one is near the other is never far

the mark eris has on her shoulder is a tattoo meant to symbolize one who was perfected the art of healing. its a respected symbol in their family, and will soon be widely known among the residents of their little town. akin to aang's arrows in atla

mercury's mark, however, is no tattoo. its a birthmark. though it looks similar to the mark of the healer, its strikingly different. look at it for too long and youll get lost in it. mercury thinks it to be a curse. no one knows its origins or what it represents (but i do. because im just awesome like that)

mercury is a visual artist. they draw sketches of things they love or find inspiring. including but not limited to:

their sister the great outdoors bodies of water deer the simplicity of town solar eclipses (which are quite common here)

eris is the child prodigy and the favorite child, yes, but shes also the token troublemaker. thiugh no one ever believes shes the creator of chaos, and mercury is quick to stand up for their sister (also because mercury is the executioner of their crimes, since eris is surprisingly clumsy for an archer)

mercury is almost always climbing trees

eris has a profound hatres of vegetables

the twins are never seen without each other (which will lead to their characterization as an divinely inseperable pair in the future). when one goes to the market alone, theyre always asked "where's the other one?"

they were mostly raised by caring locals

their mother died giving birth

eris is always bright-eyed in a way that makes you expect both trouble and wit

they go swimming so often their fingers constantly have signs of the little wrinkles

their friend miles taught them sworfighting

i think thats all i can think up right now without spoiling too much, i might add on when i have more written, but enjoy these for now. this post probably will get little to no attention, but i dont care, i love my twins.

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geavard · 4 months ago

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YUP

This outfit imagines Critter as a treasure hunter and traveling artist. Its primary target is stolen loot - amulets, jewelry, and money - buried on remote shores, sequestered to the depths of the ocean, hidden by thieves to collect dust. It returns these treasured items to their original hands, and only accepts a return of favor in the form of room and board, and a token of good luck to bring with. Its personal motivation is to voyage afar to learn from artists across the seas!

The star ✦ marks design elements intended for customization, if you're so inclined!

- - Gear, Textiles & Paint - -

Sail Cloak - A weighty and sturdy cloak repurposed from a small sailcloth, waves sprawling across its weave. It can still be used as a raft sail in a pinch. (Drawing it in this pose was ill-considered so apologies for the liquify-tooling. enjoy this nice reference of it instead:

Wavetree Shawl - A soft, thick shawl. It depicts the beautiful Pohutukawa tree of Aotearoa, rooted in the earth and reaching out to the sea. Clouds roll over the water, and a sandy shore incubates the eggs of a sea turtle. It can unfold to become longer.

Greenbone Cuffs - A pair of tail cuffs, carved of bone scavenged from the whalefall of a Great Monster. Its symbol is etched into the cuffs with both respect to the origin of the flesh and as appeal to its spirit for protection and guidance at sea. "Protruded from the vertebral column of the Great Monster was a vast mantle of bone. From the oceans abundance of magnesium, the bone has a high presence of chlorophyll. This allowed it to photosynthesize to supplement filter feeding, and is responsible for the green hue, faded on artifacts by the weathering of sun and time. Preserved chunks of bone still maintain a vivid green color. The fat content is high, and when used for broth it has a rich, nutty flavor. It has been occasionally observed to shift in shape when subject to pressure, much in the way live bone would. Perhaps it's still… no… it couldn't be…"

Tail Paint - Mother-of-pearl is ground and mixed into black ink to give it a pearlescent glint. The blue and green are the bleed of the ink into the fur, and are meant to look like the tide of the beach, critters fur color being the sand. The sparkles are the the stars, used as directional guides, reflected off the dark ocean of the night.

Bamboo Paper Holder - A container made of a sturdy shoot of bamboo, lid fastened tight with rope and a natural rubber gasket to seal the contents from water. It's stuffed with many maps, notes, and pieces of artwork.

Kelp Stipe Wrappings - Patterned fabric strips to affix the Bamboo Holder to the body. The pattern is of the kelp's stipe, and the gas bladders that give it buoyancy.

Pickle Jar - A mix of vegetables, fruits, roots and spices - convenient nutrients on-the-go! In the jar is:

cucumber, okra, carrot, bell pepper, watermelon rind,

onion, garlic, pepper corns, mustard seed

ginger, turmeric, and galangal

✦ Customize the ingredients to your tastes!

- - Tail Charms - -

✦ The good luck charms that hang on the links can be any, such as personal charms you own in real life, ones made by friends, or community submitted designs.

Daruma Hanging Charm - My take on the striking visage of the Daruma, maintaining the key features but with a more gentle, curious expression. While commonly paper mache, this one is made of wood to resist water. Only one eye is painted in, meaning the goal it watches over is still being worked towards. To paraphrase from the illustrious scholars of gogonihon.com, a blue Daruma represents wishes made for an ambition in skill and knowledge, which I chose for critters artistic pursuits. The kanji adorned is 叶 ('kanau' meaning "a wish coming true/being realised"), one of the more common kanji on daruma. ✦ The color and kanji can be personalized to relate to the wish you impart on it. The Daruma on the model can be swapped out for a new one when you've achieved your wish and have a new one.

Ladybug Charm - Considered a sign of good things when one lands on you, ladybugs are seen as lucky in many places. This charm is made of metal, the elytra an inlay of red stone, and the wings are a mosaic of bone shards, scraps leftover from the carving of the tail cuffs.

Jade Jin Chan Charm - Carved jade of the Chinese three-legged Money Frog. Though not the more common gold, jade also has auspicious connotations.

Cowrie Charms - Cowrie shells were historically used as currency in Africa and other countries, and that legacy persists as a symbol of fortune, still commonly used in clothing and jewelry. The cowries in this charm are a money cowrie, a purple-back cowrie, and a deer cowrie. ✦ You can change it to any number of cowries, in any size and any species

- - Nautical and Decorative Knots - -

Carrick Bend Links - The bracelets on the tails and wrists are comprised of a sailors knot called the carrick bend, linked together to create a chain of triple helixes. I designed it this way as a symbol of community - separate loops intertwined with each other. :] The design also harkens to the auspicious connotations of symbols like Solomon's Knot and the Endless Knot.

Monkey's Fist - Another sailors knot, this is the ball shaped knot on the front of the bamboo holder. One strand of the rope goes into this knot, and the other hangs as a tassle.

Lucky Knot - Hanging from the bamboo holder is a variation on the Good Luck Knot, or Chrysanthemum Knot. ✦ Can be retied to any decorative knot

Mathew Walker - Tied just above the Good Luck Knot is a simple Mathew Walker knot, and on the back of the bamboo holder a triple-tied version holds the lid shut. It unties from this end to open the container.

sorry it's rough aroun the edges. can clarify on any design details if anything's unclear. hope u enjoy 👍

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loracarol · 4 months ago

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Okay, here's my rec list - I'm afraid I don't ship Csvet/Maia, so I don't have any recs, but I hope someone will be able to reply with some!

I have... 16 pages of TGE bookmarks on AO3, so I've pared them down somewhat just to not be overwhelming. If I missed anyone, I apologize. 🤣

I'm not sure if I'm doing it the "official" way, but for me, gen fics may have background pairings, but aren't about the ship whereas shipping fics are specifically about the ship. Some gen fics have background Maia/Csethiro, but that's not the main focus. :)

Gen recs

Your Own Legacy - Tethimar has a bastard son that comes to court.

Lessons - In which two of Edrehasivar VII's nohecharei set out to solve an unforeseen problem.

A Moment of Peace - Maia finds a home. (AU)

Of Clerics and Clinics - If he had not ordered a doctor to tend to Nemer, Nemer might have had no doctor at all.

The Mermaid's Book - Chenelo tells Maia a story.

Empresses - Csoru Drazharan was used to getting what she wanted.

Quietly, Gently - Cala, Csevet and Beshelar take care of an exhausted and grieving Maia. This is a deleted scene set between Maia returning to the Tortoise Room after his last visit to Osmerrem Danivaran, and Maia waking up the next morning and realising he’s forgotten the trip from the Tortoise Room to his own bed.

Gifts Not Wasted - Ino and Mireän learn there is more they're allowed to be than just princesses.

can't fight against the youth - Over the course of his first six months as the heir-apparent to the Ethuveraz, Idra learns a great deal of his uncle the Emperor.

Thine Eyes are Mirrored Starlight - While current fashion dictates that elves turn their eyes away from the gods, the same cannot be said of the reverse. Or: three women Cstheio Careizhasan saw.

The Goblin Emperor's Heir - Maia has his cousins over for breakfast, and talks of marriage to his nephew.

That Which They Defend - Missing scene: Beshelar and Cala were sent off-shift after the attempt on the emperor's life.

Studying the Stars - Maia's aunts all take an interest in Vedero's passion for astronomy.

Line of Succession - One can only be the victim of an assassination attempt so many times before one looses a certain amount of respect for the occasion.

Ulishenathaän - His father, Setheris, the Untheileneise Court; everyone had endeavored to erase his mother. They did not succeed. Edrihasavar gains a token of Chenelo Drazharin, Ethuverasid Zhasan.

Learning the Rules - Maia is still adjusting to the ways of Court, but now he has some help.

Service - Isheian was grateful to serve. But that didn't mean she did not want more.

Dawn - Five times Vedero Drazhin danced, before and after her world changed forever.

The Goblin Princess - On Idra's return to Cetho, he has a pivotal role to play in Edrehasivar's attempt to defuse a slowly developing political situation.

Sufficient - As soon as Cala came out to the outer chamber and the door was shut behind them, Deret rounded on him. “This is thy fault,” he barked, knowing it for truth.

Earrings - The Emperor pierces his own daughter's ears, making time on a sunny afternoon.

Sugar Lumps - Maia spends some time with his horse.

Body and Spirit - The Emperor's first nohecharei, the night of Tethimar's coup.

In The Nursery - Living in the nursery when you are fourteen is not what anyone would want, but this is where Idra's life and choices have taken him.

Under Southern Stars - There is life outside the Untheileneise Court, too.

a burning coal of kindness - When Maia is kidnapped by a faction hoping to halt the construction of Wisdom Bridge, Beshelar, gravely injured, is by his side. It might just be their undoing.

a visit to the winternight market - Well, Csevet thinks, almost every child in the Elflands has fond memories of the Winternight markets.

the long, dark hours of the night - Winternight, from Idra's point of view.

Supper with Cousin Maia - Mireän's birthday provides a reason for Maia to share a memory of his mother: making toast and cheese together over a fire.

A Nuisance Though Thou Art - Three and a half years have passed since Empress Chenelo's death. Not even the imperial family gives much thought to her son, who is in the care of Setheris Nelar, in the distant Western Marshes and far from the court. But vexing news come from Edonomee: Nelar is dead and Maia is without a guardian. The emperor will have to decide on a new arrangement. For the sake of expediency, Nemolis volunteers to go to Edonomee and bring his half-brother to the Untheileneise Court. After all, the sooner a new guardian is found, the better.

A Small Chance of Happiness - "You need our marriage," Vedero Drazhin said to Maia one spring night when they were pressed together on the rooftop, using Vedero's telescope to examine a comet that was visiting their night sky.

sing all your questions to sleep - Maia falls sick. His friends and family take care of him.

A Treatise on the Mutability of Imperial History - There are a number of competing narratives regarding the first meeting of Deret Beshelar and Cala Athmaza, first nohecharei to Edrehasivar VII, Ethuverazhid Zhas.

A Winter's Visit - Mireän is happy at university. Idra is content with his service in the Army. Ino is holding down the Drazhadeise social position at the Untheileneise Court. When Idra comes home for a visit, things come out.

A Princess for Thu-Athamar - Or: the first year of Prince Orchenis's marriage contains many surprises. His bride is lovely; most everything else is not.

Like a Tightrope over the Istandaartha - Maia was on the verge of open revolt over the dinner party hosted by Marquis Lanthevel. In sooth, his host had been equally sceptical about the evening. While the dinner proved more entertaining than expected, Lanthevel is glad when the emperor departs. Some conversations are not meant for an emperor’s ears. And, besides, the Lanthevada have a decision to make.

a group of like-minded ladies with unusual interests - Shaleän visits the Untheileneise Court and makes the acquaintance of a rather unusual group of ladies.

an ocean away - Selkie!Maia AU

Aftermath - In which Tethimar left less to chance in his assassination attempt - leaving Beshelar to cope with a poisoned blade wound and everyone else to cope with Being Very Concerned About It.

In All Its Forms - Before his father ruined everything, Nurevis Chavar only thought to introduce the new emperor to all the most beautiful things life could offer.

a loyal daughter of house drazhada - During and after the course of The Goblin Emperor, Vedero considers loyalty, work, Edrehasivar, and family.

Interregnum - In the days between the death of Varenechibel IV and the coronation of Edrehasivar VII, more lives than Maia Drazhar's changed.

Winter Passes - Varenechibel relegates Chenelo to Cethoree, rather than Isvaroë.

What Strange Claws Are These - Despite having grown up expecting a noble marriage, Csethiro nonetheless finds herself struggling to come to terms with her impending marriage— and with her new fiance.

on bridge building - Snapshots from the construction of the Wisdom Bridge.

Chenelo's Treasures - Maia comes into his inheritance.

Littoral Matters - Maia finally meets his Aunt Shaleän and her wife Doretho and asks Shaleän about her seafaring life. He doesn’t understand half the things they say in reply, although Csethiro seems to have no trouble following the discussion. Also, the air in the Tortoise Room is terribly dry, making poor Csevet and Cala cough repeatedly.

Dueling Lessons - As they get to know one another better, Csethiro suggests that she also get to know Maia's nieces.

Amber - "The Ethuveraz has been trapped in amber for a very long time. Preserved, beautiful, but … not useful. Not able to go out and do things. Not able to grow or change. Not like the rest of the world has."

dear fellow traveler - The Crossing of the Bridge is a ceremony that requires each new emperor or empress, on the first solstice of their reign, to walk the entire length of the bridge over the Istandaärtha from eastern to western shore, alone save for their nonecharei, carrying nothing but a brazier of incense. We can be relatively sure that this tradition traces its roots to the very creation of the Wisdom Bridge, and that the first emperor to enact it was Edrehasivar the Seventh.

Cruelty and the Cat - Csethiro withdraws the carbon-copy sketch from the pouch inside her sleeve and hands it to Vedero, whose eyes widen immediately upon unfolding it. "That's a statement," she says, and hands it back. "I trust thou knowst what thou'rt doing."

Shipping recs

An Empire of Difference - “Art ill, Csethiro?” Maia pitched his voice low for her ears only. Her hand tightened on his, and he heard her quick, nervous inhalation before she said, “No, merely pregnant.” Maia and Csethiro have all the babies. (This fic is so SOFT.)

Hear Me, See Me, Know Me - On a morning in late summer, as the whole Ethuveraz sweated under a sky that had been cloudless for months, the Empress told her husband that she was pregnant.

Peace & Purring - Csethiro and Maia escape the tenth iteration of their wedding rehearsal, and relax a little.

Pillar of Strength - On the day of the official opening of the Wisdom Bridge, Maia finds himself consumed by nerves. He takes comfort in Csethiro's presence and support, reassured enough to throw a bit of caution to the wind…

A Gift Of Giving - Maia could hardly decide what alarmed him most-- that he had just received a book from the Great Avar which seemed to contain nothing but various explicit… illustrations, or that Csethiro, his newly wedded wife, had taken one perfunctory glance at the volume before remarking dismissively, "That one's rather dull."

A Relegated Marriage - Csethiro's was not truly relegated. Her father had sent her to Cethoree to be a companion to her aging Great Aunt Arbelan. At least that was the official reason his rebellious eldest daughter well known for her dislike of the new Empress was being sent away. The fact this meant she was the only remaining marriage candidate who could not have been involved in either plot against the crown. Either by blood or by presence at court. That had been an unexpected side effect.

Give My Hands True Purpose - "The morning of Csethiro’s wedding found her beating her nerves to death." Maia and Csethiro, post-book.

Tears & Laughter - The first time Maia felt truly married, he cried from joy. The first time Csethiro felt truly married, she laughed with relief.

Serenity and the Sword - Maia watched in fascination as Csethiro’s sword danced and glittered in the early morning light. She feinted and stabbed at the hanging grain sack with fierce accuracy and practiced skill. His fiancée was… rather intimidating, he realized not for the first time.

the first long welcome - Just a few little conversations and scenes on the topic of Maia becoming, and being, a parent. Fluff with a couple shavings of angst on top for flavor and texture. (Includes more Maia/Csethiro time than I originally intended, on account of who I am as a person, but it isn't the main focus of the fic.)

archduchess and Empress - A sort of alternate-history take where Varenechibel did let himself get talked into bringing Maia to live at the Court after his mother died - but Maia (now 18) still ends up in an arranged marriage to Csethiro, because of, you know, Plot Reasons. || Just as Maia and Csethiro were finally settling into married life as students at the University of Cetho, the Wisdom of Choharo came crashing down upon their newfound happiness. The viper's nest of the Untheleneise Court beckons - but Csethiro has no intention of backing down from this, or any, fight. (The author of Empress got permission to write a fan-sequel to archduchess, and they flow beautifully.)

thou, who art victory and law - He couldn’t help his unintelligence, any more than she could help her father. And he was kind. She should try to remember that. (Or: Csethiro Ceredin goes into her betrothal to Emperor Edrehasivar VII with assumptions, and has every one of them challenged.)

Grinning With All Her Teeth - Ugly rumours abound regarding the Emperor's secretary, and the Empress is unwilling to let them slide any longer. AKA: Csevet is alarmed, Maia is concerned, and Csethiro is ready to fuck shit up.

A Complete Education - Preparing for the Emperor's wedding, everyone has some things they need to learn about. (NGL, this is one of my favorites; it has a sequel, but I believe the sequel is a deadfic. It's about Maia and Csethiro growing into partnership as everyone tries to find balance in Maia's court. It has smut, and the smut is also kind of sweet? 10/10 have read multiple times.)

The Brightness in the Sky - Cala seduces Beshelar by reading from his favorite adventure novels.

Turning the Bitter Rind Sweet - Cala has a question he wants to ask his partner in private. It's not important at all, until it is.

Second Impressions - Deret meets Cala for the first time in a seedy bar in the low district of Aveio.

the more things stay the same - Five things that changed when Cala and Beshelar became lovers - and one thing that didn't.

Authors

imaginary_golux - mostly one-shots, some AU's some not. Has some Csevet/Maia, and some Csevet/Maia/Csethiro, if you want to check those out? Though I admit my fave is Emperor's Best Friend because it's about Maia getting a Very Good Birthday present. :)

astardanced - Considering when the book came out, I think you could call this author relatively new? But so far I've enjoyed all their fics; they currently have a WIP about Chenelo surviving that I'm following with baited breath, and the fics do genuinely feel like they stepped right out of the novel.

Just read The Goblin Emperor in 2 sittings interspersed only by sleep and holy heck I need to talk about it

(under a cut bc this got long)

- how tf can people say that nothing happens in this book EVERYTHING happens! It's not an action/adventure plot so most of the stuff is court intrigue and Maia frantically trying to stay afloat in it, but that is things! Not to mention getting thrown into all of the dense worldbuilding and names at once. I could follow along, but with some difficulty, especially at first - it was a great way to get into Maia's headspace.

- speaking of Maia: I love him.

- if anything happened to Maia I would kill everyone in this room and then myself

- luckily his household agrees with me there

- he's such a well written character. He's uninformed, but intelligent. He's trying his best, and does very well considering the circumstances, but he still has moments where the stress and loneliness of his position gets to him. Also moments where you really remember that he's 18. Frankly I love those moments.

- I like how the "character in powerful position shows that they're A Good One by being nice to the servants, unlike everyone else" trope was handled here. It can feel unconvincing and/or slapped on, but it makes sense here - his mother was from a culture where that's the norm, and she taught him to do that. Gave a realistic reason for him to think like that!

- I love Csevet for almost the opposite reason as Maia. Mans is Thee most competent person in the court, and seemingly was just Like That bc he was thrust into great power at the same time as Maia. I love how he's a bit of a priss and very strict about rules, yet is somehow one of the warmest figures in court to Maia.

- I really like Maia's complicated relationships with his parents and guardian. Love bordering on reverence for his mom bc she died when he was too young (also can we talk about how Chenelo was SIXTEEN when she married the emperor and had his kid?? She was younger than Maia now 😭). Apathy bordering on anger for his deadbeat emperor dad (it feels so realistic - Maia's mad at him for what he did, but also had Zero relationship with him so it's a really distant anger. Also the mans is already dead, so. No closure there either). And Setheris. Maia just quietly goes along with him in the beginning, exerts his power as emperor a few times to get him Away, but then after he's apart from him for a while everytime he sees him he ends up displaying a more overt panic response because Setheris still registers as a danger, but one that he's not as used to anymore. And Maia still doesn't want him dead, just away. It's all messy and tangled and so well written.

- also Beshelar losing his shit when he hears how Setheris abused Maia :) definitely the most humanizing moment from the character who Maia just sees as really judgemental for most of the story, and it does feel like a big turning point from "this kid's alright" to "if anything happens to Maia I will kill everyone in this room and then myself and not even because that is literally my job I would just do it"

- I just think Cala is neat :)

- I really like how Idra and Maia's relationship developed, and Idra as a character. You really get the sense that he has an entire life happening off-screen. Also I'm pretty sure Idra's sisters were the first people to hug Maia since his mom died and I'm normal about that :)

- it was fun to watch Csethiro warm up to Maia over time. I like how she expresses this by expressing her desire to throw down for him whenever the opportunity presents itself.

- I want to reread this immediately. Maybe with a notebook to mark names and relationships this time, that helped tremendously when I read the Silmarillion and I think it will be useful here too.

- I appreciate that the sequels were a spin-off series and that Maia's story is more or less complete as far as a compelling novel goes, but I need more. Does anyone have fic recs? Preferably ones that deal more with the interpersonal relationships of Maia's household than of the political drama?

#the goblin emperor

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oraclequill · 4 years ago

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What is Yours. (Priam/Robin) [Rated T, kind of]

This is based off a longstanding headcanon/pretty much implied in canon. I just needed to get out some OTP serotonin. But that’s my secret; these two live in my head, rent free.

Robin’s gloved hand pressed to his shoulder and her fingers gave a careful squeeze. Her touch spoke the message she wordlessly conveyed–“Follow me.” Priam lingered on the small stone seat to watch her leave. He listened as she went, picking up the little noises her cloak made; the way the fabric rustled and the click of the metal pins and buttons he’d grown so used to having them be around him.

Getting off the small stone seat, Priam rose to his feet and stretched to take the stiffness out from his back and shoulders. He set off at a steady walk, up the isles of the different pitched tents until he came to find Robin’s.

The tactician had placed a glass lamp on the desk when he entered. Robin turned to face him, but she seemed nervous to move any faster than how she was.

Priam let his head tilt, curious, and he asked her what this was all about. Robin seemed to give a slight jerk and she gathered herself–her focus–as she bought her hands to her shoulders.

Priam blinked, watching her movement and following where her overcoat fell around her feet. Robin then reached to the edge of her tunic, lifting the fabric over her stomach, and higher still. His blue eyes opened wider–“Robin, what–”–as the cloth came over her head.

There was little that could shake a reaction, physical or verbal, from him on the surface. This wasn’t one such thing. Priam felt himself pale as he stayed on the spot, staring in seeing her bare chest.

“Do you see it? This wound…” Robin’s voice came out soft in its tone.

Low and deep between the space of her breasts was a large web-like spread pattern. Priam frowned, letting his eyes sweep over the scar. Robin didn’t pull her arms around herself to hide or conceal it the more he looked at it.

At her.

“When I killed Grima with that tome that was Validar’s possession,” Robin continued, bowing her head down to look at her own chest. “I felt my connection–the bond I shared with him–break.”

Priam let his mouth part open at the meaning of that; “His own power was inside that magic you channeled?”

Robin nodded, “It severed me from the fell dragon forever, but,” She looked down to her chest. “At the back of my mind, I fear that he isn’t gone. That this scar isn’t mine, but his.” She now raised her head to look at Priam in his face. “A mark that’s different. One new and ugly in my skin.”

Priam closed his eyes and he took a deep breath. His heart beat more quickly as it swelled in worry for her and admiration for what Robin was choosing to share with him. In a sense, it was a gift she was presenting him with. An intimate trust, and another string to let be weaved into the thread to their growing bond.

“Hey.”

Priam bought his hand to rest in the space of Robin’s breasts. His large palm and fingers were enough to conceal the shape of the scar. The skin was smooth to the touch and jagged at the edges. He made no further movement when she appeared surprised at the made contact.

“How it came to be? What it means? This is yours,” Priam said, his voice gentle and firm. “It will always be only yours. A scar that is as beautiful as the woman who bears it.”

Robin pulled her arms around Priam into a hug, not surprised when he jerked with a small jump. He settled and calmed quickly, taking her into his arms. His forehead pushed to rest against hers, nose to nose, and for a time, they were of one heart.

#Fire Emblem Awakening #Priam #Robin (FE)#Ylisse #Char: Radiant Hero #Char: High Deliverer #Pairing: A Token of My Great Respect

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forget-you-morelike-fuck-you · 2 years ago

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A Taste of the Divine- E.M.

OKAY OKAY OKAY so I based this one off of a song I have been utterly OBSESSED with lately called The Summoning by Sleep Token. You can find it here: https://youtu.be/wJNbtYdr-Hg

I definitely think Modern!Eddie would make this kind of music and you can fight me on that. The other song I have quoted in here is I Have A Problem by Beartooth, which you can find here: https://youtu.be/KTUCGRu_DL4

Masterlist

You go to your first rock show and you get a much different experience than you bargained for.

TW- 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, fingering, dirty talk, pet names (pretty girl, good girl, angel, etc.), pnv, protected sex (wrap it up, babes), dom!Eddie, degredation kink, praise kink, slight corruption kink if you squint, drinking, cursing (lmk if I missed anything!)

Pairings- Modern!Rockstar!Eddie x Reader

Word Count- 6,335

(Pic and gif not mine, credit to owner!)

There’s just something about him.

Past the intimidating exterior of black leather, studded belts, and cigarette smoke is someone whose sole mission in his life is to worship every inch of skin on your body.

You never meant to end up with someone like Eddie. You never even heard his name before your friend laid a poster down in front of you at your weekly lunch date, squealing as she told you about the show. You looked at the paper, detailing the time and place of a band you had never heard of, and honestly didn’t really have any interest in learning about. You were never one for rock music, instead favoring the sound of smooth indie and pop. But your best friend was so keen on going. Her boyfriend is in the band, but all of the friends she had that liked the kind of music they played weren’t available, so she was begging you to accompany her.

“Pleaaase, Y/N! I’ll do anything you want! It’s just their first headlining show and I don’t want to be in the crowd alone!” She pleads, giving you those best friend puppy dog eyes. After careful consideration and a lot of bargaining, you finally relent, resolving that she would buy your drinks all night.

“Corroded Coffin, huh? Sounds like pretty heavy stuff,” You eye her with uncertainty. “I really don’t think this is gonna be my scene,” Your best friend rolls your eyes at you, wagging her finger at you.

“No take-backs! You already said you’d come! And you don’t have to like them, I just really want you to be there with me to support Gareth! You know how big a deal this is to him! I’ve never asked you to come to a show with me before, and I swear, if you absolutely hate them, I’ll never ask you to go again! I promise,” She sticks her lip out in a fake pout as an attempt to further suck you in to her plans.

“Okay, okay, fine! Just this once, because I love you!” She does a happy dance in her seat across from you, giggling like a madwoman.

“Okay, great! Oh, Y/N it’s gonna be so much fun! And you definitely have to wear something hot. You can borrow some of my fishnets! We’re all hanging out after and the lead singer, Eddie, he’s so fucking fine. If I didn’t love Gareth so much, I would totally be on that.” The face she makes as she speaks makes you laugh, which helps you feel better about going.

“Alright, fine,” You roll your eyes, chuckling at her giddiness. “But this Eddie guy better be, like, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”

“I really don’t think you’ll be disappointed.” She promises with surety.

When you get to the venue, it’s packed wall to wall with people in black, decorated with studs and leather. The smell of alcohol and sweat was heavy in the air, and you take it in as your best friend keeps a very firm grip on your hand as she drags you toward the front, near the stage. She pushes past people with authority, and when people give her dirty looks, she just exclaims “MY BOYFRIEND IS IN THE BAND!” This makes you laugh, because more often than not, the people just move out of her way. People respect that sort of thing around here, you guess.

As you near the rail, your friend flags down one of the security people hovering near the stage, and your friend introduces you to him by name. “Carlos! This is my best friend, Y/N. I’m gonna go get us some drinks, so can you just make sure no one’s creepy to her? She’s never been to one of these shows before.” Carlos, a nearly middle aged gentleman who stands at least 6 feet tall and looks like he could wrestle for WWE, nods.

“I got you hon, no one gets past these eyes,” Your best friend pats him casually on the shoulder with a smile.

“I know I can count on you, buddy.” With that, she starts making her way toward the bar, pushing past people like it’s the most normal thing in the world. You look over to Carlos, not wanting to just stand there awkwardly.

“So,” You begin, shouting slightly over the din of all the other concertgoers, “Do people get pretty rowdy at these shows?” Carlos makes a face and shrugs.

“It really just depends on the crowd. I’ve had to knock a few assholes out in my time, but generally no one gets too rough with the people who don’t want it. Just try not to get sucked into the mosh pit. That’ll do some damage if you’re not careful.” You nod solemnly at his sage advice, clinging a bit closer to the rail for safety.

“And what if I do get sucked in?” Carlos raises an eyebrow as he mulls it over.

“Don’t be afraid to push your way out. They can get pretty nasty, but usually it’s just a bunch of people dancing like maniacs,”

As your friend returns, holding the drinks above her head, Carlos takes a step back toward the stage. “Here you go! Tequila Sunrise for you,” She hands you the clear plastic cup, careful not to bump someone and spill it, “Vodka Cran for me,” She holds her cup out to yours, and you tap them together before taking a big drink.

“Is it gonna start soon?” You ask.

She nods, “Yeah! I saw Gareth and the guys walking through the back door. Should be any minute now.” You keep talking and drinking and laughing for a few more minutes until the lights start moving across the stage, and everyone starts screaming as the band comes out from behind the curtain.

“Whoa,” You mutter, eyes going wide as you spot him. Eddie Munson is wearing nothing but a tight pair of black jeans and a leather vest, his arms and torso covered in intricate tattoos. His hair is a wild mess of dark curls, and he wears a serious expression. There’s a glint of silver around his ears as you spot a rows of earrings going up to his cartilage, and a little hoop in his right nostril. His broad hands are littered in heavy silver rings and necklaces drip from his neck to swing at his mostly bare chest. You feel your best friend nudge you, and you look to her as she gestures up toward Eddie.

“Disappointed?” She wiggles her eyebrows playfully.

“No, no I don’t think I am...” You give a bark of a laugh.

“I knew you wouldn’t be! Wait until you hear him sing!” You make a face of bemusement before turning your attention back to the stage, where Eddie has started shredding on his red and black crackle-painted Warlock guitar. Everyone goes crazy, including your best friend, as Eddie’s voice comes screaming through the music.

“I found my vice, I found my vice. It lives in a bottle and wants me to die! I found my vice, I found my vice. It lives in a bottle and wants me to die! But I wanna be alive.... Go!”

The sound is overwhelming, and it sends your eyelids flying open wide as you listen. You’ve never heard anything like this. You can’t tell if you like it, but you’re definitely impressed by the lung capacity Eddie surely has to be able to perform like this as often as he does. He doesn’t even start to sing until he gets to the refrain, and the suddenly smooth sound of his voice sends a shock through your body like you’ve never felt before. He grips the mic stand with both hands, eyes closed as the guitar swings by his hip.

“I guess a bottle can’t save my life, I guess a bottle can’t tame my mind... This is my reward, a barely beating heart? But I still lie to myself, I always lie to myself. My hands are in the air, and God, I hope you’re there! Cause I can’t make it myself, I’ll never make it myself...” You’re stunned as he switches back and forth from screaming and singing so easily, and you find yourself start to move your body to the beat of the music, a smile growing slowly on your face. Your best friend is jumping up and down next to you and then the whole venue starts screaming with Eddie, “SUBSTANCE THERAPY NEVER SET ME FREE,”

By the time the song ends, you’re dancing with your best friend. Although you’d definitely prefer your music taste to this, you can’t deny the intoxicating rush this music sends through your bones.

When the next song starts, the mood in the room shifts a bit, and you can see why. Eddie’s body language changes from angry to seductive, his hands caressing the microphone like it’s a long lost lover. A stark comparison to the death grip he held on it during the last song. You watch as he pushes the hair out of his face, a soft synth echoing through the room before the guitar starts. Then Eddie begins to sing, his lashes low on his eyes, his tongue darting to lick his lips. “I’ve got a river running right into you. I’ve got a blood trail, red in the blue. Something you say or something you do, a taste of the divine... You’ve got my body, flesh and bone, yeah. The sky above the earth below...”

He runs a hand up his toned torso, gripping lightly at his throat as he lets his eyes scan the crowd and you stand, mesmerized by the way he moves. When his eyes meet yours, you almost gasp at the intensity of his gaze. He holds it for just a moment before he flits his eyes away, probably to some other beautiful person he sees among this sea of people. Still, you can’t tear your eyes away from his performance.

There are a couple minutes in the middle of the song where Eddie has a guitar solo, and it almost looks like he’s making love to the guitar in his hands as he walks around the stage with it. He comes to the edge, just a few feet from where you stand, front and center with your best friend, falling to his knees and throwing his head back, his plush lips open in a silent moan as glistening beads of sweat trail down his forehead and chest. It makes heat flood through you, and you watch his nimble fingers as they move across the strings like lightning. You wonder what else he can do with those fingers...

As he gets back to his feet, his eyes open and land on yours again. The look on his face as his eyes bore into yours makes you feel like you’re the only one in the room for a moment, and then he’s gone, sauntering back to the microphone, the guitar dropping out as gentle synth intermixed with piano float over the room again. He takes his time taking his guitar off his neck, grabbing the mic stand and dragging it with him as he walks, back toward where you stand. Your best friend starts shaking your shoulder and you rip your eyes away from the delicious sight.

“This is the best part!” She yells excitedly. “You’re about to get soaked, so get ready!” She squeals and turns back, gripping the rail, whooping in excitement.

When Eddie stops, he lets his face fall forward, his bangs brushing over his eyes as his lips hover right over the microphone. The drums kick back in and he raises one hand over his head, ripping the mic out of the stand as the song drops into half time. “Oh, and my love, did I mistake you for a sign from God? Or are you really here to cut me off? Or maybe just to turn me on...” He drops down to kneel on one knee, one hand still holding onto the mic stand as he taps his fingers on the mic with the other, keeping time. He’s so close you can almost hear his rings clink against the metal. “Cause, these days I would be lyin’ if I told you that I didn’t wish that I could be your man. Or, maybe make a good girl bad...” His eyes graze over you once more, and you watch as they rake up and down your body, sending a shiver through your spine. Then, he gets up, mic in one hand, stand in the other and walks back to where he was before to finish the song. All of the air is sucked out of the room for a moment as the final chord dissolves in the stale air before the room erupts like a million firecrackers.

You have to take a deep breath to keep your cool. There’s never been music that made you feel exactly this way before. But then again, you’ve never been eye fucked by an insanely gorgeous metal singer as such dirty, beautiful words spill from his perfect lips before.

The rest of the night goes on like this, and as you indulge in a few more drinks, you loosen up even more, letting your body flood itself with the sheer vibrations of the music around you. It’s like you’re waking up in a brand new world filled with raw emotion, no matter what kind. “We’ve been Corroded Coffin! Thank you!” Eddie screams as the lights come up, and the whole place, including you, is chanting as they exit the stage, all high fives and smiles in the euphoric haze of a good show well done.

“Come on!” Your best friend has to pull your shoulder to get your attention, the rush of adrenaline written all over her face as she starts pulling you through the crowd. You make it to the edge of the rail and a security guard lets you through, knowing that you’re with the band, and you find the back door to backstage to go through. You run up the steps with her, laughing as you finally find some semblance of quiet behind the closed door. Your ears are ringing, adjusting back to the lack of chest rattling music as you go find the band. “Baby!” Your best friend runs to Gareth, and he lifts her off the ground, spinning her as they embrace. “You did so good out there! You guys were so amazing! I swear to God a record deal is coming any day now.” She then turns to you, “This is my best friend, Y/N, she’s never been to a rock show before, but I think we’ve won her over,” She explains. “I can tell you liked it! Don’t even deny it!”

You laugh, smiling sheepishly as the band looks at you expectantly. You give a nod, “Yeah, that was... A rush.” You turn to Eddie, who smiles coolly as he takes a drink of water. “I’ve never in my life heard a voice like yours. It was incredible.”

“You see, Eddie! I told you she’d like you!” Your best friend interjects. You shoot a glare over to her accusatorily, and she shrugs, a smug smile on her face as she holds Gareth close. You feel a heat rush to your cheeks as you turn back to Eddie, who’s still looking at you.

“Thanks,” he says. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” His voice doesn’t even show a hint of strain as he speaks, which is mind-blowing considering all of the screaming he did on stage. You follow awkwardly behind the band as they make their way to a sitting room of sorts, complete with a TV and a few couches. You sit near your best friend and Gareth, who share a plush armchair, but making conversation with them is no use, they’re too wrapped up in each other, kissing and talking to each other in hushed tones about the show and how much they love each other. While it’s a cute sight, it feels as though she’s stranded you on a desert island with a bunch of strangers, one of them being the scorching hot singer sitting next to you on the couch.

You smooth your impossibly short skirt as you sit, trying to keep yourself from saying something stupid. “So,” You hear from beside you. You look up and Eddie is laying back against the corner of the couch, legs spread. You can see now the faint smudge of black eyeliner on his eyes, and it only makes the dark chocolate of his irises look that much more tantalizing. “You not really a rock person?”

You scoff, quirking your head to the side a bit, “No, not really. Well, I never have been before anyway. I’ve never really enjoyed the screaming.” He nods, his brows raising in recognition.

“Yeah, it’s not for everyone, I suppose. But you liked it tonight?” He raises his brows hopefully. You bite your lip lightly, eyes flitting up, remembering the feeling as the intense sound washed over you.

“Yeah, I did. I have to say, I think you may have completely converted me.” You both laugh lightly at that. “Can I ask, how do you do that? It’s the most baffling thing I have ever seen!” Eddie’s smile widens a bit, and he makes a sound like he’s trying to find the words.

“It’s a lot of practice. There’s some technical bullshit you need to understand to fully grasp it, but essentially, it’s all about breathing and the way my mouth is shaped,” He shrugs, letting out a short laugh, “That’s a pretty shitty way to put it, now that I think about it, but it’s fine.” You breathe a laugh and nod in understanding.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay. Not like I do a lot of screaming myself, anyway,” Eddie smiles out of the corner of his mouth, his eyes looking you up and down.

“Really? That’s a shame...” He takes a gulp from his water bottle, and you feel heat rush over your whole body. Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your skirt again as you try to think of something else to say.

“Y’know, that second song you did... The girl you wrote that about sounds pretty lucky to have you to come home to.” You look at him through your lashes, gauging his reaction. You watch him clench his razor sharp jaw, his hand running over his thigh lightly as he adjusts himself to look at you better.

“There isn’t one,” Your brow raises in feigned curiosity and bat your lashes at him sweetly.

“Oh? Then who’s that one written about?” You lean toward him ever so slightly. His eyes rake over you once more, and he leans in toward you, his mouth hovering just over your ear.

“Could be you, if you play your cards right...” A jolt of lightning streaks right through the center of your body, and you feel your heart thump loudly in your throat. Damn, he’s smooth. You try to clear your throat and recover your control, but Eddie sees right through you. It’s a game of sexy chicken, and he’s winning.

“And what makes you think that I’d want that?” Your voice isn’t as stable as you wish it was and you inwardly curse yourself as Eddie gives you a playful, boyish smile.

“I saw the way you were looking at me out there. And I think you saw the way I was looking at you, too.” He leans his arm against the back of the couch, laying his head on his hand. “Y’know, you don’t fool me, Y/N.” The way he says your name sends a shiver up your spine and wonder how he’d say it from between your thighs... “I can tell that beneath that bohemian, hippie girl façade, there’s a wild little girl just begging to be let out of her cage. All I’m saying is that I could be the key to her freedom, if you want.”

He’s done it now. You bite your lip, a heat rushing over your face, all the way up to the tops of your ears, and you have to fight to keep your breath calm. You get up, letting skirt ride up just a touch so he can get a good look at the garters running down the backs of your thighs before holding your hand out to him. “Wanna give me a tour?” You ask innocently, but your eyes are wandering over him, fantasizing what he’ll look like once he’s on top of you. You see Eddie’s cool exterior crack for just a fraction of a second before he takes his time reaching for your hand. His feels massive in yours, his fingertips rough with callouses. The rings he wears make cold indents in your skin.

“Right this way,” Eddie starts walking, his hand tightly holding yours. You shoot your best friend a quick look over your shoulder, and her eyes are bulging out of her head as she watches you walk away. She sends you a quick thumbs up before getting back to her conversation, a silent “Good luck!” as you walk towards a darkened hallway.

“Where are we going?” You ask, your eyes scanning the dim hallway covered in posters and sharpied graffiti.

“Right here,” Eddie opens a door to the right of him, and pulls you in. The room isn’t very large, but there’s a vanity sprinkled with a few pieces of jewelry and makeup items, and worn couch. Eddie closes the door behind you, and you hear a lock click as you look back at him. “So,” The tone on his lips is warm and sultry, and you inhale sharply as you feel his fingers barely graze your bare sides, the bustier top you wear coming only to just under your breasts. “This is my dressing room...” His lips hover right at your ear, and your lashes flutter when you feel the slight tickle of his lips just grazing the skin there.

“It’s- it’s nice,” You’re losing your resolve, the slight wobble in your voice is giving away your rather compromised position.

“Why, thank you,” You can hear the amusement in his voice as his lips travel down, not even touching, just teasing you with the hope of contact. His hands, however, grip at your hips a little more now, pulling you closer to him. A mad rush of heat spreads down your thighs as you feel the bulge of his cock starting to form in his jeans. “I’ll tell you how this is gonna work,” He mutters. “I’m gonna ask you what you want, and you’re gonna tell me. I don’t like playing guessing games. Do you understand?”

You’ve never been spoken to this way before, but damn, is it sure erotic. Borderline pornographic, really. You nod, barely finding your voice as you say, “I understand.”

“Good.” His lips brush over your shoulder now, and with all of the anticipation it almost makes you go weak in the knees. “Now, can you tell me what you want first?” Your eyes flutter closed, and you move your head out of the way of his lips.

“K-kiss me?” You breathe. Eddie chuckles darkly behind you as he presses a firm but gentle kiss to your shoulder, moving the strap of your top out of the way as he blazes a path up your neck, taking his time to find the spots that make you hiss in pleasure.

“Like this?” He taunts. You nod lightly, your brain growing fuzzier with every sensation. He suddenly turns you around, spinning you by the hips. One of his hands presses into your back as the other grabs your chin, pulling your lips to his in a wanton display. His tongue darts into your mouth and you taste the faint menthol of what was probably a cough drop to soothe his vocal cords. The moan that escapes you is swallowed by Eddies mouth as he moves you backward, your legs hitting the couch. He lets you go as you sink down, and you move yourself so that your legs are spread apart to accommodate for him while you lay back. Your hands find his chest as he comes to lay with you, one hand finding your face, the other supporting him on the arm of the couch as he kisses you again. His lips move lazily down your neck again, sucking soft bruises occasionally, and you let out a soft whine, not wanting to be heard by the band members outside. Your body arches up into his, craving the feeling of his body against yours.

“Do you want something, sweetheart?” He presses chaste kisses just below your ear, nipping lightly.

“I want... Fuck... I want your fingers... Please,” Your eyes screw shut, and you feel his lips meander back up your face, capturing your mouth in another hot kiss, Eddie’s thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

“I think that can be arranged...” The hand on your face starts moving down, over your collarbones, the curve of your breast, giving a squeeze there, down and down until you feel his large, rough palm against your heat. You grind into his hand pathetically, the scant fabric over your clothed pussy doing very little to hide the mess you’ve made. Eddie lets out a little laugh as he plays with you, and you can’t help but whimper at every touch. “Not so tough now, are you baby?” He presses kisses to your jaw, letting his tongue swipe along the skin. “You just wanna be a good girl, don’t you?” You almost want to protest, but it seems impossible as his fingers pull your panties out of the way and dip into your sopping pussy. He pulls his fingers up your slit, and you gasp harshly as he flicks over your clit, the callouses on his fingers creating a new sensation that that of your own.

Eddie rubs slow circles round your bud, and your hands find his back, nails digging in as you get further lost in the pleasure. “I want...” You pant as Eddie’s mouth travels down to the tops of your breasts. “I want your fingers inside.” Eddie hums against your chest in acknowledgement, fingers moving down to toy with your aching hole, dipping gently in with two fingers. You push yourself further onto him as he curls up, and you tighten your grip on his body as he moans gently at the feeling of your velvet walls wrapping around him.

“Goddamn. This pussy’s gonna make me cum quick, isn’t it. So fucking tight. You suck me right in, pretty girl.” He purrs. He pumps in and out of you at a decent pace, letting you reach your peak on your own time. You’re sure he’s done this so many times he must have it down to a science. Your moans get needier as the seconds pass, your release approaching in near record time. Eddie can tell. It’s like he can read your mind, or at least, your body, like an open book. “You gonna cum for me, baby? You gonna be a good girl and soak my fingers?” The encouragement only spurs you on as you get closer, closer until finally, your walls flutter, and Eddie kisses you to swallow the sounds of your release. He groans as he continues fingering you, his thumb brushing lightly over your clit as your legs shake from the intense climax. You pant hard as you find your way back to your body, and Eddie pulls his fingers out, his lips still on yours. He pulls away as he brings his hand to his face, and he stares intently into your eyes as he sucks his fingers clean. You almost whine just at the sight of him, brain completely melted out of your skull, replaced only with the carnal need for him to fuck you, good and deep. “Next time, I hope you ask for my mouth,” He muses, “I need to get a proper taste of that sweet pussy.”

“Next time?” You breathe. He gives you a smirk.

“If you want,” he says. “But now, I’m hoping you tell me you want my cock inside you.” You let out a girlish laugh at that, hands reaching for his pants before you feel his hand cover yours. “Ah, ah, ah... Words first, angel.” He commands. You look at him through your lashes, hips moving up so your pussy grinds lightly against the knee positioned between yours. You see a subtle flutter of his lashes as he waits for your reply.

“Please, Eddie,” You press kisses to his jaw, sucking deliciously. “Will you stuff my cunt with your cock?” He lets out a groan, his hips driving down into yours.

“Good girl,” He rasps, and he lets you continue your task of undoing his heavy belt. You can see the strain of his cock against his pants, and you can’t help but paw at it, your mouth watering at the mere thought of him filling you up. He reaches around to his back pocket to pull out a condom, and unceremoniously rips the foil open with his teeth while you pull his pants down, spitting the ripped piece in his teeth away. You pull out his cock, stroking the long, thick length of it a few times, collecting glistening droplets of precum on your thumb before sticking it in your mouth, relishing in the taste. Eddie watches you rub the pad of your finger down the length of your tongue, a devilish smile breaking out on his face as he rolls the condom down his length. He leans back down, necklaces tickling your chest. “I knew there was a bad girl in there somewhere,” He hisses as his cockhead comes in contact with your entrance. You can’t say anything, moaning as he pushes into you harshly. “You like the taste of me, don’t you?”

You nod pathetically as he grabs your legs, pulling you into a better position for him to snap his hips into yours. Every thrust punctuated with a heavy breath. All you can do is try to hold on to any surface, teeth clenched to keep you quiet as you writhe beneath Eddie’s command. The pace he sets is borderline bruising, both of you struggling to keep your breath as your bodies meet. Eddie hooks your legs behind his back, one hand going to grip the meat of your waist to hold you steady as the other starts playing with your clit, making your goal of keeping quiet enough to keep everyone outside from hearing that much more impossible. “God, you feel so fucking good,” Eddie throws his head back in a low moan, eyes screwing shut as he continues pounding into you. “I can fucking feel the end of you. Fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” His eyes open back up and settle on your face, contorted in this piece of bliss he’s giving you. The hand on your clit reaches up to your face, the finger coated in your slick pushing into your mouth. You accept it greedily, moaning at the taste of yourself on your tongue.

“God, so fucking good for me. You look so pretty like this. So fucking pretty.” His cand comes back down to rub your sensitive bud again. You can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, your breath coming in short pants. You squeeze your legs around Eddie’s middle, needing him to be even closer.

“I’m- gonna- cum- Eddie...” You stare into his eyes like they’re art, and bite your lip as the tension in your core approaches a precipice. You shut your eyes, letting the feeling take over as you lose yourself.

“That’s it. That’s it... Fuck, Y/N, I can fucking feel you...” He lets out a divine whimper as your walls pulse around his cock, his hand tightening around your waist, but he doesn’t let up, not for a moment. “Gonna... Gonna fucking fill you up, pretty girl.” You whine as you feel Eddie’s cock twitch inside you, and then his hips stutter, a deep moan tumbling from his lips as he cums. He fucks into you a few more times, slowing down, the fingers on your cunt rubbing languidly now. Finally, he stills, and you’re both just staring at each other, breaths heavy, pupils blown in the euphoria of the mind-blowing sex you just had.

Finally, you let out a light laugh, your hand going to wipe a few stray hairs from your forehead. “That was...” You close your eyes and lay your head back against the seat of the couch. “That was fucking amazing.” Eddie gently pulls out of you, and you wince as he helps you set your legs back down, the muscle ache already seeping into your thighs.

“Yeah,” he says. His lips form a Chesire cat smile, a few beads of sweat falling from his hairline. “I think that I would agree,” His bangs are stuck to his skin, and even though you’ve just had some of the best sex of your life, you can’t help but already want more. You start to sit up a bit as Eddie moves off of the couch to throw the condom away, and he grabs a small towel to hand to you before getting one for himself.

“So,” He looks to you as he puts his softening cock back in his pants, pulling his belt back through the buckle. “About next time...?” You ask. He lets out a small laugh as he throws your towel into the corner of the room.

“What about it?” He has a coy smile on his face, eyebrows raising slightly.

“Will there really be one? Or was that just dirty talk?”

He considers this for a moment, looking you up and down as you smooth your skirt back into place before nodding. “Yeah, there’ll be a next time. How about you give me your number, and I’ll take you out to dinner sometime?” Your brows flick up in surprise, not thinking he would offer a date.

“Do you offer that to all of the girls you fuck after shows or just me?” You’re almost genuinely curious. Eddie shakes his head, his lips downturned slightly.

“No, just you. I don’t really make a habit of this, if I’m being honest,” He confesses. You’re genuinely shocked by that. Not only is he insanely talented both on stage and in bed, he’s also one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever had the privilege of laying your eyes on.

“What’s so different about me, then?” Now you are really curious. Eddie shrugs.

“Well, Y/BFF/N has been talking you up ever since she told us all about you, so that helped. And Gareth seems to think you’re a pretty decent person...” He looks at you pointedly, “But what really sealed the deal was the look on your face from the stage. It was one of the best reactions to me that I think I've ever seen. You came here tonight, not thinking you’d really have a good time, and then you just let yourself get lost in it. It was... intriguing. More than that, really. It was kind of magical.” You cast your eyes downward, a blush creeping onto your face as you smile sweetly.

“Oh,” You breathe, feeling prettier than you have in a long time. Eddie offers you a hand, and you take it as he helps you to your feet, not letting go as he opens the door for you. You start walking toward the doorway, but he stops you, pulling you back to him and walking you backward until your back hits the cool metal door. His free hand finds your face, pushing the hair away before leaning down to kiss you, deep and slow.

“How about Friday night? I��ll pick you up at 7,” He suggests as he pulls away, forehead resting on yours. You nod, heart thumping in your throat.

“Yeah... It’s a date.” You open your eyes to see that beautiful boyish smile again, and he kisses you once more, just a gentle peck on the lips.

“Okay, then,” And with that, he leads you back out to the living room. You blush wildly as people take notice, a couple of them whooping as you and Eddie sit back down on the couch, except now, he doesn’t let you sit at the other end, like before. He pulls you close, having your head rest against his shoulder as he slings his arm across the back of the couch.

The rest of the night is spent talking and laughing with the band, Eddie deflecting every playful jab that comes your way about the activities in the back room. And when it comes time to leave, he kisses you again sweetly before you part ways. “I’ll see you Friday,” He promises.

“Friday, yeah,” Your best friend starts tugging at your arm, but you don’t look away from him until you have to, giving a small wave as you start your way out of the venue.

“Soooo,” Your best friend asks, wiggling her eyebrows at you as you make your way to the parking lot. “You reaaaally liked it then?” You laugh, hitting her on the arm playfully. But still, you nod, remembering the feelings, the sounds, the sensations.

“Yeah, I really, really did.” You beam at her widely as she gives a whoop in excitement. You get into her car to go home, closing the door as you find your seat. As you buckle in your seatbelt, you hear your phone ding, and so you look to see a new number texting you, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you open the message.

“Can’t stop thinking about you. Mind if we move our date up to tomorrow?” Your breath hitches in your throat as you type out your reply.

“I thought you’d never ask,”

230 notes · View notes

earenwen-leafwhisper · 2 years ago

Note

My Dear Author! first, thank you so much for "Dragon and sun" I loved it!!! Second, I love "Martell anon"(you can refer to me as that if you want)😍😍😍😍 and I can't wait to read your other thoughts on it. stay safe ♥️♥️♥️♥️

Life in Dorne

Pairing: Daemon x Fem chubby Martell reader

Summarize: A brief example of the life of Prince Daemon and his wife Y/n Martell

Trigger warning: English is not my native language, so if there are any mistakes I’m sorry I would correct them.

Author’s note: hello, Martell anon (okay, it will be officially your nickname then ^-^ )

I took some time to write the rest of your request, you just have to be a little patient for the Nsfw Headcanon:)

I hope you like it, oh and the gif will probably be temporary, I hesitate to draw an illustration, it’s been so long that I didn’t draw but I have an idea in mind so I’ll see.

The house Martell had never accepted an alliance with the house Targaryen, but at the end of the war between the Triarchy and Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lord Corlys Velaryon. The house had no choice.

The Martells had taken a stand for the Triarchy, for three years they had helped them with the delivery of food and men, they were not faithful to King Viserys, the putrid smell of venom was brewing, the king was weak and this war only confirmed that. They expected resistance from the Velaryons, but the coming of Prince Daemon was more devastating, as was defeat.

At the end of the war against the Velaryons, a tribute had to be offered by the House of Martell, as a token of goodwill and thus preventing a more open war with Westeros. That tribute was you.

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Daemon and Corlys after the fall of the Triarchy went to Dorne, the discussions were heated, Prince Qoren refused to bend, he was not afraid of his two men, he was ready to bring down any dragon coming too close to the cities of Dorne.

As the second in the line of succession, you watched the scene, the three men and several guards were seated in the middle of the gardens, they were not wearing armor but the colours of their respective houses, in your heart, Your father had to negotiate. From the balcony where you were sitting, you could see Lord Corlys talking with your father, he was straight on the chair, almost too much to compare to Prince Daemon who was driving a cup of wine in his hand into the back of his chair. He looked into the void and seemed to you not to listen to the conversation, until the moment when his gaze lingered on the decorations of the outer walls, the gaze attracting him by a reflection of light. One of your gold jewels reflected a bit of sunshine as you moved to get a better view of what was happening. The prince saw you, smiled and took a sip of wine while looking at you.

Your first real face-to-face meeting was a few hours later and was quite spicy. It was rare to see a woman of the Martell family being more chubby, it had intrigued her, he appreciated the fact that you accept your body at least he appreciated the great cleavage that slowly revealed the birth of your breasts and your stomach, Unlike the other women he used to meet, you were not impressed to see him, answering him several times with sarcasm. At times several of your answers made him laugh, which surprised you, because although all the members of your family were accustomed to your rare sarcasm were those who understood him to the point of laughing.

Corlys’s stay lasted only a week, while Daemon decided to stay longer. The negotiations were not over, but it did not matter to him.

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

If at the beginning Daemon was unpleasant, this feeling was gradually changed, the prince took time every day to talk to you, read a book or propose to accompany you on one of your trips to the cities of Dorne. You were different and he liked it a lot.

In a few months, servants had found you talking, laughing, holding your hand, or even late at night, while offering the meal, sitting on one of the balconies, Daemon’s arm around your hips while you had your head against his shoulder. Prince Qoren, your father, learned from one of the guards, your little adventures and your closeness. At the end of the year, your marriage was celebrated in the Temple of the Seven of the Sunspear.

Five years later, the servants feared Daemon, for woe was to him who interrupted every fleshly moment between you two.

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A smell of orange blossom and incense floated in the corridors of the Old Palace, servants dressed in yellow walked the corridors, some wore silk fabrics, others of large trays on which were placed silver cups lined with gilded decoration, as well as a teapot richly decorated, on other trays were found food, such as sweet rolls with orange, date or almond, salted bread tasted of olive or spice, there were also cupcakes composed of wheat semolina and lemon, as well as fruits, such as pomegrenade or blood orange.

The rays of the sun reflected slightly on the ceramic tiles that covered the walls of the palace, giving touches of color to the spaces painted in a creamy white the rest of the walls, warming at the same time the corridors that became cold during the night. The servants had to wake up the Martell family, from the prince in title, to the children, asking them if they would like to have breakfast with their family or in their rooms. Several times the servants had come across funny situations, like the day when one of them had discovered Prince Qoren sleeping on the ground, his wife having pushed him into his sleep. They were not embarrassed to see such a situation, the older ones having even come face to face with some rather torrid scene, but did not flinch.

Leyla, your servant, stood in front of the door of your common room at Daemon and you, looking at the guards, silently asking them as usual if you were present and at best asleep. The guards dressed in traditional yellow clothes with golden painted pattern of sun, nodded. Leyla raised her hand and knocked three times, a silence answered her, and she decided to open the door.

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

The rays of the sun began to cross the fine curtains, echoing against the large mirror of the room, you had placed the yellow silk sheet above your head, blondening yourself against the naked torso of Daemon. Her body was hot, but not a stifling hot, no, it was a welcoming warmth, the one that made you think of the ray of a rising sun after a long icy night. You passed one of your bounced legs above his, Daemon breathed calmly that rested you, rare were the moments when you woke up before him, you gently placed one of your hands on the scar that was on his shoulder and neck, Caressing the marks formed by the burn, his skin had a different touch, than the rest of his body, but this was part of him and you had learned to love each of the facets of Daemon. Whether it was his body or his personality. You laid soft kisses on his chest, weary and half asleep.

"Hmm... hello ñuha jorrāelagon."

"Good morning, love."

Your words were only whispering, Daemon with his eyes ajar, had pulled up the silk sheet, and was barely watching you wake up. You put yourself on your forearm, helping you to go up to her face. Daemon dropped the sheet to put his hand on your cheek, caressing her. He went to speak but was interrupted by the noise on the door.

Daemon looked up at the skies, sighing. He preferred the Old Palace to the Red Keep, whether by your presence alone, but also because there was no constant play for his brother’s throne, there was a form of peace that had settled in Daemon, but one of the things he couldn’t bear was revivals. The only days when the servants did not come to wake them were at the beginning of their marriage. They were so because Daemon threatened the poor serve a very painful and rapid death, to translate into a name, Caraxes.

The door opened, on your servant Leyla, seeing you awake, she bowed.

"Good morning, my prince and princess."

"Hello Leyla" You stood up, while Daemon sighed

"Prince Qoren your father invites you to have breakfast at his ribs on the large balcony. He wishes to speak with you about your future stay in Godgrace."

"Well we will be present."

Leyla bowed once more, before slipping away to warn your father. You were getting ready to get out of bed, feeling Daemon’s right hand fondling your back. You would never have thought that Daemon could openly accept how much you were touch starved and even less that this one took to your touch, only on rare occasions you do not touch your hands at least. You got up and dressed a minimum before the return of Leyla, although the clothes worn in Dorne were lighter, they were not less easier to put on, but much easier to remove.

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"Prince Daemon, my daughter."

Qoren was sitting on one of the carved wooden chairs covered with gold leaf and orange-coloured tapestries. On the round wooden table were trays of food and drink.

"Sit down."

Your father with a gesture of his hand pointed out the two chairs in front of him, looking to your right you could see the citrus gardens and flowers of the inner courtyard. You were spying on your future husband from the same balcony.

Your father, although he does not like Daemon, had learned to support him, the prince made you happy and as long as he continued, he was not to plan the slaughter of a dragon in flight. Which was partly reassuring. What pleased your father was that Daemon agreed to adapt to Dorne’s clothing, at the same time wearing black and clothing close to the body in several layers did not help to stay hydrated in the desert. You liked to see Daemon dress up in the orange-yellow colors of your house, although dragon patterns were always drawn in places or scale patterns, these were alongside small patterns painted with sun, just as your dresses were embroidered and painted with the same patterns as your husband’s. Your clothes were very often composed of silk, satin or linen, unlike Westeros, the patterns were hand-painted and not embroidered, although Daemon had to keep embroidery touches on his clothes. He always kept touches of black in his way of dressing thus keeping a Targaryen touch. Your dresses were much more revealing than he used to see nobles dress, they were much more neat and distinguished to be considered a girl of joy, but sufficiently cleavage in places to make any young and not so young men blush.

The dress he preferred on you was a long dress with a yellow orange to golden gradient, without sleeve, the back was covered but the two drapers from the shoulders covered your breasts while letting appear the embrasure of your breasts. The base part of your dress started at your stomach, went down to your ankles, a long slit went up from your ankle to half of your thigh. This allowed Daemon to access the skin of your thigh more easily lord of the long dinners you attended at times. Although some people in Westeros would have found this inappropriate outfit for a real woman, you and Daemon didn’t care, you liked it, you looked beautiful in it and that was all that mattered.

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You were sitting to the left of Daemon, your left hand on your cup of tea/water/fruit juice and your right hand on Daemon’s thigh, watching your father talk about the future trip, explaining that several guards would escort you.

"Don’t forget not to insult any noble you come across." Your father looked at you very seriously.

"I have nerver insulted anyone."

"You forget Lord Dayne of Starfall’s bride."

"I have simply described her, accurately. It’s not my fault she’s narcissistic and can’t have a conversation for more than two minutes before she talks about herself."

Your father sighed while Daemon smiled in the corner while drinking his dornish reds cup (a wine produced in Dorne). The wind was blowing gently, twirling the branches of the trees, carrying with it an orange smell. Your father looked away, wondering how a diplomatic problem had so far never been declared by your sarcasm and confidence.

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The caravan composed of several riders of the princely guard, as well as some merchants, walked through the main’s pass. They were barely visible from the heights where Caraxes flew. Daemon had persuaded you to ride on the dragon’s back, the trip would take you less time than the week to ride in the desert and would be much more enjoyable.

It was grasping at his back that you looked as much as you could at the scenery around you. The vision of the place was very different, it allowed you to see the peaks of the Red Mountains, to see the road draw by the walking of the different caravans, you could see the river that covered a short distance in the lands of your family. Demonstrating how scarce water was in the land. You understood much more why water was much more precious than gold in Dorne, although having always been aware of this fact, it seemed slightly abstract to you.

The fresh air of the heights contrasted with the constant heat of the desert, you would have been against Daemon to try to warm yourself and protect yourself from the wind, The grunt of Caraxes would have been almost restful if you were accustomed to such a journey. Daemon had Caraxes nose down, you held on to him, uttering a small cry that remained trapped in your mouth as the change of course was abrupt, he made the dragon fly close to the ground, spanking the sand behind you. Daemon laughed, you held him with great force, he brought the dragon up to the heights, heard you talking to him, that he would sleep on the floor of your room if he started again without warning you.

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Godgrace was destroyed during the conquest of Aegon and his sisters, had been rebuilt, several stalls were selling spices and fruits from Essos. A strong smell of spice reigned in the air, there were also sellers of carpets, clothes, jewelry and kitchen utensils. The houses had ochre and earth colors of his, the paths were composed of large stone extracted from the Red Mountains they had red colors, but was attenuated by the sand that the travelers loaded. Caravans of merchants and travellers stopped at the gates of the small city. The streets were made up of small houses that had at least one floor, their roofs were flat, which allowed for many inhabitants to have a terrace on which the women spread the linen, or to have meals in the evening under the starry sky, and to have interactions between neighbors. As you went down, you could hear faintly the people below you live their lives.

It was both different from the Sunspear while being familiar, the architecture of the palace where you settled was almost identical to that of the Old Palace, the only majority difference was the colors, blue and gold unlike the yellow of your family.

Your luggage had arrived a week in advance allowing the servants to prepare everything for your arrival, the Allyrion house inhabiting places were honored to have you as a guest, It changed the visit of your father or your older sister Aliandra who was the heiress in title. He knew your outspokenness and the rumors surrounding Daemon’s character.

Lord Allyrion did everything possible to make your arrival as pleasant as it could be musicians playing the Oud, dancers, entertaining you in the large living room, wine from King’s Landing to please Daemon was rumored that he didn’t like Essos wine and barely liked Dorne’s.

Golden yellow fabrics as well as red you have been offered as a gift and token of goodwill of the lord. After all your negotiations were aimed at helping to protect the caravans when exchanging quantity of water and food for areas a little further away and thus avoiding any uprising of the people under his gaze and protection.

The large doors of dark wood, engraved and decorated with orange blossoms bordered with gold leaves, closed on Lord Allyrion who stood in front of Daemon and you, your husband had his right hand in the hollow of your kidneys and his left hand on dark sister. Your future agreements could begin.

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Translation:

My love / ñuha jorrāelagon

Tag list : @starkleila

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x chubby reader #daemon x chubby reader #daemon targeryen x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon x reader #martell!reader

114 notes · View notes

sukirichi · 4 years ago

Text

dutifully yours. [01]

Attached to the could’ve been’s of a promised happily ever after with the Crown Prince disguised under a scheme for power and greed, you are torn between choosing your happiness — or abandoning it to fulfill your duty as the future Queen.

→ unedited bcos i’m brave lazy. implied patriarchy. angst in future chapters. pure romance and fluff for now. royalty au. eventual smut. prince naoya !! i love him sm i could cry. this fic will break me, okay. naoya is close to canon but with my twist if that makes sense. drama in future chapters. oh and listen to this while reading <3

→ massive shoutout to my besties for always hyping me and helping me uwu, i present this token of prince naoya being an ideal husband okay cry cry i love him sm im crying. anyways pls enjoy bcos i poured my heart out to this and bcos i want more people in the naoya fucker club :>

one | next (to be posted)

Ever since the day your mother taught you how to read, you’ve had your nose buried in a book. Losing yourself in different worlds, swooning over fictional princes, and fantasizing for a love story ripped out of fairytale itself with such burning, passionate romance – you’d been through it all, dreamt of it all. And yet, you struggled to stop yourself from tugging at your dress.

The tight corset hadn’t even been the main focus of your worries, and neither was the heavy rivière resting on your collarbones.

“Would you stop fidgeting?” Beside you, your mother pursed her lips, fingers decorated with jewels stopping in their movements of fanning herself. The temperature hadn’t been particularly high inside the limousine that evening. You supposed it was the mere sight of you tugging and gulping audibly every now and then, gloved hands running over the hems of your collar.

You ducked your head down. “Sorry, Mother. I can’t help it.”

“Dear, your anxiety is written all over your face,” she sighed, turning your face to her as she cupped your cheeks. Smiling tenderly like a mother always did, your heart felt soothed even by the slightest bit. You wished she could keep holding you like this – like you were a fragile flower she was afraid of breaking; a fragile flower that needed more care handled than most. Tonight, however, you felt a hundred years older. Like you’d accidentally clicked on fast forward and got launched to the future. A future that seemed so unclear yet so...perfect. So right.

“How would the Prince fancy you if you’re sweating bullets like that? It’s not a good look for a marquess’ daughter.”

At the mention of the Crown Prince, your heart sank again. “My apologies, Mother. I’m just rather nervous. It’s the Crown Prince we’re talking about here.”

“He is quite the looker, isn’t he?” she giggled behind her fan, “Strong and handsome, as well.”

“My ladies. You are not fantasizing over the Crown Prince in my presence, are you?”

Crossing her leg over the other, your mother leaned forwards, elbows on her knees as she winked at your father. The marquess had his torso half twisted from the passenger seat, glaring playfully at your mother’s unabashed features. “It is of no seriousness, My Lord. I’m simply easing your daughter’s nerves.”

Your father sighed in worry. “What’s got you so worked up, child? You are beautiful. The Prince would be blind to not notice you.”

Each fibre in your body screamed in desperation for your father to be right. Tonight was not just any other night – the entire Kingdom, including noblewomen, foreign royals, and unwed daughters from honourable families had been invited to the Zen’in Castle for one purpose only: to find his Crown Prince a suitable wife, one that would be fit to be the next Queen as well. As the daughter of the marquess, you’d naturally received the invitation. It felt just like yesterday when the mail arrived and you’d cheered so much in joy the chickens went flying out of their coops, your horses galloping and whinnying at surprise, and now you here – minutes away from the palace where you were soon to be deemed worthy or unworthy to be beside His Highness.

With a shaky smile, you dug your nails into your thighs. “Well, we’ve only met once, Father. I doubt the Prince would remember me.”

“Just smile, darling. You will do great.”

To no one’s surprise, the Zen’in Castle brimmed with people and esteemed guests. Men and women danced with one another as muted chatters and chuckles blended in with the grand royal orchestra, everyone dressed to the nines and making you feel completely out of place.

The moment you’d been welcomed by the knights and led to the palace doors, your dress began to feel tighter than usual, your ribs clenching uncomfortably from the pressure. Your hands had not stopped trembling either, not even when you hid it behind your back and nodded at the people passing by. There were governor-generals, dukes, earls, professors and royal advisors and even families of the royal family’s inner circle of knights. Everyone looked like they belonged here. Chatting amongst one another over the finest of wines or discussing conspiracies on where the Kingdom of Zen’in would be in the next sixty years of the future King’s reign, no one here seemed to be out of place.

Everyone except you.

A warm hand was suddenly placed on the small of your back, making you gasp. Your mother’s smile was nothing short of warm as she held you close to her one last time, leaving a kiss on your forehead. You didn’t even realize how much you shook until she clasped her hands with yours. “Calm down, dear,” she reminded, “You’ll be on your own now. This is where we leave you since we’re not supposed to mingle with potential princesses.”

“Mother!” Your eyes widened in embarrassment. Looking around frantically, you bit your lip in fear someone must’ve heard.

Of course, while it would be no surprise most guests – if not all – hoped that their daughter would be the Crown Prince’s chosen fiancée, it still felt wrong to boldly assume such when you could barely keep up with the events of tonight.

However, your mother merely laughed. “I am proud of you, dear. Never forget that. It doesn’t matter whether you are chosen or not. We’re only here for formality and respect to the King and Queen’s demands.”

“You say that as if the Crown Prince really would not bother with me.”

“We didn’t mean that,” your father cut in, a flute of champagne already nested between his calloused fingers. Ever since you arrived, he’d been snatched away by fellow earls and barons, disappearing into the crowd for a ‘hearty conversation over one’s lands.’ You knew better than that, though. That statement always translated to which leader got to have more chances to wine and dine with the King, to which your family was ridiculously reminded of that you’d been stationed to the most faraway land where even hearing news from the royal papers was but a privilege.

“Just be yourself, alright? And enjoy the party. It’s about time you met with girls your own age and made some friends.”

“I – Father, wait!”

A slender young woman slithered to your side out of nowhere, her golden brown eyes following the silhouettes of your parents. It wasn’t long before they completely disappeared. Left alone with the stunning woman that was – for some reason – dressed in a plain black curve hugging dress too modest for tonight’s appropriateness, you took three steps away in caution. “You must be from way up North,” she noted, her head to the tipped to the side. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

God, was she beautiful. Long, thick eyelashes and short hair chopped in messy yet elegant curves, you struggled to hold her gaze. “Oh, yes, I come from the Terratian Borders. My family is stationed there under His Majesty’s orders.”

She hummed to herself. “The Terratian Borders are mostly forests and fields, no? The last time my family and I visited there, I came across the loveliest dandelions I’ve ever laid eyes on. Shame they died on the way back,” offering her hand – again, bare and empty with decorations yet still littered with faint scars and cuts – she beamed at you. “I’m Mai, by the way. Mai Zen’in.”

Zen’in?

Hands cupping your mouth, you bowed deep until your back ached. “Lady Mai!” you shut your eyes closed, unable to live with the shame. Mai Zen’in; one of the iconic twin pair from the extended Zen’in royal family, both a fashion icon and a legend for being a rumoured female knight. To have her in your presence was an honour. “My apologies for not recognizing you any sooner, Lady Mai!”

“Stand up, I’m not a royal,” she sniggered, “We’re just relatives of the actual monarch, but don’t let the family name fool you. The Crown Prince barely even acknowledges us being of the same blood.”

Albeit hesitant, you followed her gestures of making you stand up. You straightened your back and cleared your throat, fighting the urge to go haywire the moment his name was brought into the conversation. Not only would you be seeing Prince Naoya again in real life for the first time in years, but you’d also made acquaintances with his distant niece. However, his name was spoken with malice.

Frowning, you faced Lady Mai in all seriousness. “Prince Naoya? Why so?” Lady Mai looked at you like you’d grown two heads.

“He’s an ass, that’s why.”

“I-I don’t think he is,” you defended, “The Prince has been nothing but kind to me.”

“I didn’t know he was capable of kindness,” she muttered more so under her breath, low enough you were unsure whether you were supposed to hear it in the first place. Lady Mai then shook her head to herself before stealing a flute from a waiter passing by. Chucking it your way, her face turned dark and grim. “Take it as free advice: stay as far away from his as possible. The Crown Prince is nothing but good news.”

“Is it because he has lots of lovers?” you inquired with a small voice, “Uhm – well – It was an assumption. With a title and handsomeness like that, it would make sense everyone would want to be the Crown Prince’s lover.”

Lady Mai’s lip curled upwards. “Prince Naoya won’t bother with lovers. He is too occupied for that.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Heard from whom?”

“The Royal Declaration from His Majesty himself,” you said, “Was it not the purpose of this ball? To find worthy candidates to be the Crown Prince’s betrothed? His coronation is coming soon.”

“Right. I forgot today was technically a bridal market,” she scratched the edge of her brow, falling silent for a moment. Her eyes scanned the lively crowd for a brief moment – watching with you as everyone laughed and danced to their heart’s content – the grand final event of the routine personal dance with the Crown Prince himself slowly approaching to reality. “You are joining in the festivities, are you not? Later, when he arrives, he shall meet you.”

“I am obligated to as a noble bachelorette, though I doubt His Highness would even look my way. There are far richer noblewomen here and even daughters of duke that would be perfect as his wife. ”

“You may have a point for that,” she hummed to herself, unaware that her agreement to the Crown Prince not paying attention to you left a sting both in your ego and heart. Not that it lasted long, for Lady Mai was already tugged on the arm by another equally fiercely beautiful woman – her older twin, Maki Zen’in. Soon to be governon-general of the Kingdom.

Lady Mai smiled in apology. “I need to go now since I’m not a part of this event. But hey, if ever I come around to visit the Borders again, perhaps you could entertain me?”

“I would be honoured to, Lady Mai.”

“You are sweet and innocent,” it was her sister who spoke this time, glasses perched high on her nose that concealed the wariness of her gaze. “I hope the Crown Prince never gets to your routine.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s nothing; she was talking to herself. Maki does that a lot,” Lady Mai’s forced chuckles were barely heard from the music. “You enjoy the party now. Don’t drink too much lest you want to embarrass yourself in everyone’s eyes and be talk of the Kingdom. Prince Naoya would hate it if you took the attention away from him.”

“Oh, uhm...”

“It’s a joke, Lady Y/N. Relax.”

You bowed once more. “My apologies.”

“The dance is about to begin,” Maki tapped on your shoulder, making you look up right where her eyes zeroed in. And exactly in the middle of the grandiose hall, under the sparkling golden chandeliers where he made all the gold in the world look incomparable next to him, the Crown Prince stood in his fully glory. Blond hair with the ends stained of midnight gelled back to reveal his forehead, the Crown Prince’s beauty never failed to shine. Whether it be in the papers, in the tabloids, in the billboards that you passed on the way to the city, or from way back when you met him for the first time as a naive, innocent teen – Crown Prince Naoya came straight out of a magazine cover.

In the back of your head, you could hear either of the twins murmuring good luck. Maybe both of them had said it – you had no idea. All of your attention, all the sensibility and coherence of your state had been switched the next instant, as if your heart and soul was born for the sole purpose of being bewitched by your Crown Prince.

And as if feeling someone’s gaze on him, the Crown Prince’s eyes trailed over the crowd. Almost boredly, his sharp eyes bounced from one giggling woman to another, the ends of his lips smirking upwards for just the tiniest bit. It must’ve stroked his ego. Until his eyes connected with yours. The Crown Prince’s eyebrows knitted together. You had no idea how you looked in that moment, and quite frankly, you didn’t care. Because the Crown Prince was looking at you, and you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes along with your heart pulsing at the tip of your tongue.

“Let us begin,” his lips moved from the distance, “Play the music. I shall dance with my bride.”

The air shifted in a split second. Murmurs were thrown over the room, women and men alike turning pale. Even the orchestra was stunned from the Crown Prince’s entrance – and it hadn’t even been dramatic to his standards – yet the whole castle fell mum from just a few of his words. A few seconds later, the crowd recomposed itself, and the strings began to dance along with its bows.

You are pushed into the crowd. Nearly colliding into the arms of another, you quietly thank the masked man who was to be your first partner of the night.

All the men joining the dance floor dressed with the intention of making the Crown Prince shine. Prince Naoya stood out from the throng of white as per the colour code, his blood red uniform as both Prince with the golden crest of the military leader pinned to his right breast. The other men meant to be filler partners until all the potential brides got to their designated three minutes with the Prince were all dressed in black, faces covered behind a plain black mask. None were allowed to talk. None were allowed to utter even a word, and so your partner pursed his lips in displeasure at your apology.

Whatever. You just had to wait a few more rounds before the song finished and transitioned into a new one; the song where you’d been informed would be your time alone with the Prince.

You’d been so lost in your head you barely breathed the entire dance. From partner to partner, you blanked. Your heart drummed so wildly in its cage it begged to come out, and strings of apologies were let out each time your masked partners grimaced for a brief second when their hands came in contact with your sweaty ones. Around you, all the lovely women smiled and danced graciously, mouths moving in unreadable conversations shared with the Crown Prince. Not once did you look at the six partners you’ve danced with. Not once did you worry about tripping on your own feet. Not once did you care that some of the masked men held you a little too roughly for your comfort. Your entire reason for existing in that moment was to witness the Crown Prince himself, mirroring his frown that got deeper and deeper with each woman retreating to the sea of people he’d rejected.

Not once did you even think about being one of them – the girls who’ve ducked their heads down as their parents comforted them over not being the chosen one, of bringing ‘dishonour’ to their families that the mighty Crown Prince had deemed them unworthy. Tears streamed down their faces until black ink followed afterwards, lips trembling from silent sobs.

Despite their broken prides – although there was that minority who simply sighed in relief after returning to their own families – no one would dare interrupt the Crown Prince’s dances.

All of these thoughts crossed your mind too late and at the exact time your masked partner pulled away from you, body half bent in a bow with his arm outstretched to the side. Following where he was gesturing at, your eyes met the Crown Prince’s tall and lean stature, a few blond fringes now fallen from his movements.

Even though a thin layer of sweat shone from his face, Prince Naoya remained ethereal.

And like a snake charmed by the musician’s seductive tone, your feet moved on its own. Fingers stretching until it met with the Crown Prince’s large and warm ones, you were now in front of him. With him. Holding him, touching him, meeting him eye for eye and realizing – gold. His eyes burned a deep shade of gold, elegantly rich and heartbreakingly stunning your heart ached.

Before you knew it, your hands began to tremble, feeling as if your body had been corded into a corset three sizes smaller. You could not breathe, and the Crown Prince took notice.

“You are stiff. Do I make you uncomfortable?” Good Saint. If only possible, you would’ve closed your eyes and basked in the deep warmth of his voice. It reverberated from deep within, breathed out with an air of natural authority and profound confidence it made your knees weak. As if sensing his effect on you (though for the wrong reasons, it seemed), Prince Naoya hummed to himself. “This routine shall last for a few minutes before I can let you go, I’m afraid.”

You instantly realized the implications of your silence. “N-not at all, Your Highness! I am honoured to be dancing with you.”

“There is no honour in a choreographed dance. Everyone will dance with me. It’s nothing special.”

Your heart fell. Prince Naoya not only sounded dejected, but detached as well. As if he found no pleasure or specialty in this event, at a time where he had every opportunity to meet his lover, and that this ball was merely a task to be checked off in his already long list of responsibilities. It wasn’t disappointment, per se, but rather melancholy that left a bitter taste in your mouth. Not because Prince Naoya held little to no regards for something you treasured, but because he sounded terribly alone. Like he was simply waiting for it to end out of discomfort.

“It’s special to me, Your Highness,” you blurted out faster than you could stop yourself. For a moment, you feared you may have offended him, but the Crown Prince only laughs.

And when he did – saint, when he laughed – his eyes crinkled into half moons, pearly whites flashing against the bright lights and his whole chest shook with amusement.

You’d never seen him smile this way before.

Prince Naoya’s laughter didn’t cease. Around you, your gut instincts told that people were now beginning to look; the Crown Prince’s deep rumbles of laughter sounded exquisitely like music as well, after all. “ Is it special to you because you are now dancing and within the Crown Prince’s proximity? As much as I presume how exhilarating it might be for those who mostly see me in the papers and in the tabloids, I assure you, dancing with your Prince is not an honour. Especially when you are all sent the invitations based on your status and not your worthy traits.”

“It’s special to me,” you mumbled, growing shy all of a sudden when the Crown Prince nodded at you to continue. “Because...because it reminds me of the first time we met.”

The Crown Prince hummed in amusement.

“We have met before?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’m from the Terratian Borders – my father is a loyal servant of His Majesty. You visited the borders when you were eighteen and I was sixteen. Do you remember it, Your Highness? You stormed in my private library.”

Indeed, the young barely-out-of-his-teens Crown Prince barged into your home’s library years ago. You were not previously informed he and his parents would be visiting since they arrived wordlessly, so you were stuck in your chambers as usual, killing time if not for sleeping and tending to the animals. Perched on a ladder, you attempted to reach for a book on the upper shelf when your foot slipped beneath you. At the age of sixteen, you were dramatic enough to say your life flashed before your eyes. You would’ve screamed then had strong arms not appeared out of nowhere, the Crown Prince staring at you with wide, golden eyes as they were now, his breathy rasped as he asked, are you okay, my lady?

The mere recollection of that fateful memory had your cheeks warming in delight. “You were so charming and heroic back then. Even when I had no idea you were a royal, I would have still believed you to be princely,” you said rather absentmindedly, blinking once then twice at your words. “Of course, it’s understandable if you do not remember, Your Highness!”

“My apologies. I do not remember, though Terratia is a wonderful place. Such a shame I was not informed beforehand they had a lovely daughter.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” you cheered back, cheeks and jaw beginning to ache from how wide you were smiling. But could anyone blame you? You felt absolutely silly that you were a breath away from passing out minutes ago, and now here you were, dancing with the Crown Prince and sharing memories with him like it was a daily occurrence. The words it’s true love when you feel at peace with them suddenly rang back at your head from that latest romance novel you read, and you turned away, hoping the Crown Prince would not read your thoughts to your face. However, Prince Naoya’s lips pursed into a thin line, all traces of humour now disappeared. “I’m sorry – should I not have laughed?”

“No, I don’t mind,” he mused with his jaw locked tight, “I just haven’t seen anyone react that way before.”

“Like what?”

“Like my words meant the entire universe to them. I may dare even say you look terribly in love, though I cannot blame you on that one, can I?”

Prince Naoya shook his head the minute the words left his mouth. Forcing himself to believe it couldn’t be real, perhaps, you truly did not know anymore. Your only plan for tonight was to see the Crown Prince and get to live out your dream of seeing him once more even for just a brief moment before you travelled back home while he married another, and yet – “Your Highness, I’m in love with you. I have always been since the day we met.”

You could no longer stop the words. The voice at the back of your head begged you to shut up and not cause a scene, that your time had passed up and people were staring, yet you remained in his arms no matter how much you wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow you whole.

“Please do not misunderstand me, Your Highness. I did not come here to attempt to steal your heart and be your wife, though I will admit I have dreamt of meeting you again for so many moons. I...I only want to tell you this. That I love you and even though it was a brief moment, I think the love I’ve always read about felt real and possible for the first time in my life,” chuckling nervously, you gather to courage to face him, adoration shining for the Crown Prince stood shock still before you, however stunned he may be. “I love you, Your Highness. I love you. And to whoever lucky woman you choose to be your betrothed, I hope she takes care of you and showers you with all the affection you are deserving of. You would make a great King. So God help his Crown Prince, and may you lead us all into a better world.”

Prince Naoya did not budge a muscle. His eyes remained hard on yours, breath warm as his nostrils fumed. With each passing second that he did not speak, you grew restless and tugged your arm away from his hold with a disgraceful smile.

You’d truly crossed your line. The repercussions to be faced for this impoliteness would destroy your family’s honour. You had to leave. “Your Highness? The song has changed. It’s time to let go—”

The Crown Prince inched close enough until his hair tickled your cheeks, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he pulled you close, close enough that your lower bodies touched. Skin ablaze with heat, you dared not move an inch. “Do you mean it?” he demanded lowly, his fingers ghosting over your wrist to hold you in place. “Do you truly love me? Not for what I have, not for who I was born to be, but me as a person itself?”

Closing your eyes to shudder in a deep breath, you exhaled. “Of course, Your Highness. Even if you were not born as a Prince, I’m sure I would’ve still loved you in a different universe.”

“But I do not know you.”

“We don’t have to know each other, Your Highness, and we never will. Once you let me go, I’ll return to the shadows where I belong, and I will continue supporting you until the day of your coronation.”

“And if I refuse to let you go?” he clicked his tongue, “What will you do then?”

The Crown Prince’s spicy perfume must be an aphrodisiac or hypnotizer of sorts. Everything he did messed with your mind that it was too late – the music had stopped and people were no longer drinking or chatting. Everyone’s eyes were on you and the Crown Prince. You could only imagine how controversial this position must be; with his lips trailing dangerously close to that sensitive spot in your neck where you nearly moaned. You really needed to leave.

“P-people are looking, Your Highness. You do not want this affair with someone you won’t choose—”

“Who said I won’t choose you?” Finally, he pulled away. But Prince Naoya never once tore his gaze away from yours, nor did he allow you to look at anyone but him as he caresses your jaw so light and feathery you wondered if he was truly there.“Who said I haven’t laid my eyes on you the moment you walked in here? This ball is for naught because of you, Lady Y/N. I’ve already made my choice, and you helped me confirm it as soon as you danced with me.”

“Your Highness...”

“Look at me,” he ordered, your eyes flitting from his pinkish lips to his sharp nose and then to his fox-like gaze. Only this time, Prince Naoya was no longer harsh. “Don’t be scared.”

“But they’re looking.”

“You are with me, of course they’ll look,” he teased, “They wish to be you right now. But ignore them and dance one more time with me.”

It wasn’t like you had a choice, but did it matter? One nod from him was all it took before the orchestra fumbled back to their spots and a new song played, Ode of Moonlight Lovers, and the Crown Prince was guiding you back to where he had originally danced with you.

From the corners of your eyes, you caught a glimpse of your parents with their mouths gaped open; your father looking like he was on the verge of passing out. However, you felt nothing but joy, nothing but the adrenaline pumping through your veins as he danced and twirled you in his arms. When the music stopped and you were both panting for air with silly smiles on your face, it dawned on you that you were with the Prince. No, rather, it was only you and the Prince alone. Even in the sea of people whose faces began to blur, he prevailed crystal clear.

You could recognize him anywhere, find him everywhere.

Prince Naoya stepped impossibly closer until your chests touched, hearts beating as one. Cupping your jaw, he was near enough that he swallowed all your shaky breaths with a small, teasing smile like you both shared a secret the entire world could not know.

“Do I still make you nervous?”

Laughing, you nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. I feel like I’m going to explode.”

“It’s beloved now,” he corrected, face inching closer and closer to a point you could count the number of his lower lashes. “And what do lovers do to seal their union?”

“M-Marriage?”

“Close, but this is much better.”

If anyone were to tell you that you would have a love story ripped out straight from a fairytale, you would’ve laughed at their faces. You were no Cinderella, nor were you a goddess of beauty that could’ve possibly caught the Crown Prince’s eye. Yet, his soft lips were on yours, kissing you with as much passion you could only dream of that you cried.

Strong hands guiding the back of your waist, Prince Naoya dipped you lower to the ground – the grand of finish of his dance. He had chosen his bride.

The crowd cheered and rejoiced all around you, making you smile into the kiss. Fisting his collar to bring him closer to yours, your mouth burst into metaphorical fireworks as soon as his tongue mingled with yours for an experimental taste. He was bitter yet sweet; expensive wine resting on his tongue, yet a delicate vanilla sat heavily on his soft lips that molded with yours. It was a taste you could spend forever being addicted on. And you were crying, crying so much your chest ached and the Prince’s cheeks grew damp from yours. You’d dreamt of this for so long, too long now.

Prince Naoya slowly pulled you away, his thumb wiping the tears away from the pads of your cheeks with tenderness in his touch. However, the Prince was not satisfied. The crowd whooped as he leant down to kiss your forehead. “You are mine now, my princess.”

Looping his hands with yours, the Crown Prince led you out of the castle. The crowd parted naturally to make way for the new couple, and you were left staring at his broad back and the tuft of blond hair where you’d soon find out how soft it would be. Sending one last glance to your crying parents, you waved goodbye. You had no idea where the Crown Prince would take you but you were already bunching your dress up, heart completely filled with trust you did not question it. What mattered tonight and for the rest of your life was that it felt right. That it was him – your beloved Prince Naoya Zen’in and soon to be husband – that you’d follow through the moon and back.

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