#i love her n her Sword... I should bring back my Ladies With Swords tag...

[three-crows-watch]

OH MY GOODNESS,,, I'm back from my hiatus and ALSO just finished Sorcery of Thorns. I loved it and totally can't stop thinking about it,,, :')

It was very extremely good n I LOVED all of the nice imagery and magical hijinks... ofc I had to draw some of the mcs... feat. book of eyes and one (1) particular Cat...

i really hope these aren’t grainy i just drew these and took the pics with my phone lmao

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Have You No Idea That You’re In Deep? [Chapter 5: I’m Coming Back]

Aemond is a fearless, enigmatic prince and the most renowned dragonrider of the Greens. You are a daughter of House Mormont and a lady-in-waiting to Princess Helaena. You can’t ignore each other, even though you probably should. In fact, you might have found a love worth killing for.

A/N: I adore you all so much!!! Only 3 more chapters left. 💜

Song inspiration: “Do I Wanna Know?” by Arctic Monkeys.

Chapter warnings: Language, expert-level witchcraft, Adventures With Aegon™️, sexual references, pregnancy, combat-related violence, this fic is for readers 18+!!!

Word count: 6.2k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @crispmarshmallow​ @tclegane​ @daddysfavoritesexkitten​ @poohxlove​ @imagine-all-the-imagines​ @nsainmoonchild​ @skythighs​ @bratfleck​ @thesadvampire​ @yor72​ @xcharlottemikaelsonx​ @mochimommy2002 @loverandqueenofdragons​ @omgsuperstarg​ @endless-ineffabilities​ @devynsshitposts​ @vencuyot​ @ladylannisterxo​ @ariesbabycitlaly @itzwhatever123 @cranberryjulce​ @abcdefghi-lmnopqrstuvwxyz​ @liathelioness​ @mirandastuckinthe80s​ @haezen​ @fairaardirascenarios​ @penteknati @darkened-writer​ @weepingfashionwritingplaid​ @signyvenetia​ @abrielleholland​ @crossingallmine​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @yummycastiel​ @lol-im-done​ @lovemissyhoneybee​ @nomugglesallowed​ @witchmoon​ @yoshiplushie​ @404slayer404 @sunafterthethunder @torchbearerkyle​ @sweetashoneyhoney​ @quartzs-posts​ @lauraneedstochill​ @nctma15​ @queenofshinigamis​ @rapoficeandfire​ @hinata7346​ @curiouser-an-curiouser​ @eleganttravelercloud @meadowofsinfulthoughts​ @imjustboredso​ @unabashedlyswimmingtimemachine​ @myspotofcraziness​ @bregarc​ @mikariell95​ @doingfondue​

💜 Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! (Also I’m sincerely sorry if Tumblr refuses to tag you!!!) 💜

On Dragonstone, Jace and Luke are sparring as the surf of the Narrow Sea gurgles at their heels. Their footprints mark the wet sand like bruises. Their swords clang and screech against each other. Daemon is coaching them, but somewhat halfheartedly; his mind is elsewhere. His mind is in the throne room, in the future, in the past. Rhaenyra is watching the match with great enthusiasm and shouting encouragements. And this is when Grand Maester Gerardys brings the rogue prince the scroll.

Daemon still has friends in the City Watch from when he served as their Commander, and so a raven found its way to him. Even if he did not possess such clandestine disciples, Daemon would have soon learned of the events transpiring in King’s Landing. Everyone knows about them. Maesters are waking up to tapping, squawking ravens from the Reach to Winterfell.

He unravels the scroll, reads it once, raises his eyebrows, reads it again. And then Daemon begins to snicker. It’s a sharp, sardonic, goading sound. It’s the sort of sound that begs for someone to stab their knuckles into him, to give him an excuse to bury them. Rhaenyra glances over at Daemon. He stops snickering, thinks about it some more, picks back up again.

“What is so amusing?” Rhaenyra asks, smiling a little. After all these years, there remains an immutable part of her that can’t resist seeing him happy. It doesn’t happen so often now. It is a thing to be treasured. She could never put into words how she feels about him, how she has always felt about him; it is something deeper than flesh. It is an entanglement of souls.

Daemon’s eyes—impish, mutinous—rise from the scroll. “You are never going to believe what Aemond Targaryen has done.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Helaena brings you lemon cakes and clean clothes. Alicent brings you a prayer book so you can beg the Seven for absolution. Sir Criston brings you his gallant, reticent well-wishes. Aemond brings you his body and his voice, everything he’s made of; he sits on the floor and holds your hands through the iron bars, both of them, like you’re back under the heart tree together reciting marriage vows in the sight of gods older than the stars. He asks if you are warm enough, if you are eating, if you are in any pain, if you want him to cut down the guards and free you from this prison and smuggle you away to Dorne. You steadfastly refuse his offer. Aemond’s future is here in King’s Landing, and there is nowhere you can run without losing him. Everything in you fights with bared teeth and drawn claws against leaving. It is an instinct so strong it borders on premonition.

There are four levels of dungeons in the Red Keep. The second is for people like you: those of noble birth, those still entitled to some comforts. Your cell is windowless but otherwise adequate. It is private and sparsely furnished with a bed, wash basin, and table and chair for meals. You eat on the floor with Aemond instead, passing whispers and morsels of food through the bars. It need not have ended up this way. If when Axel Hightower reappeared you had promptly agreed to return to him—to Oldtown, his keeping, his bed—no one could have begrudged you an honest mistake committed under the assumption that he was dead. The lords and ladies of Westeros would have been all too happy to overlook any sordid dalliances provided you left the prince free for one of their daughters to wed. But that’s not what you did. You refused to return to your legal husband. Aemond refused to relinquish you. He stood in front of you threatening to gut anyone who tried to touch you until you told him that it was alright, that you would willingly go to a dungeon cell, that you were not afraid. It has been three days since then. And tomorrow, the gods—the court believes the Seven, but you think immortals of a different sort—will decide to whom you are truly married.

In the depths of the night when you are alone with your thoughts, staring up at the ceiling with rage-orange torchlight trickling in from the hallway, you wonder about things for which there are no answers: How am I going to cast a spell if I’m locked up in here? How am I going to protect Aemond?

“Do you think he can win?” you had asked Sir Criston as he stood on the other side of the iron bars, his eyes averted and his face grim. He is a man at war with himself: his morals are outraged, but his loyalty is irrevocable. If you are indeed Aemond’s wife, then you are an extension of Alicent’s children, and he is honor-bound to support you.

“No,” Sir Criston had said. “But I’ll help him try.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You are attempting to read the prayer book Alicent gave you—poor reading material is better than no reading material at all, and you’re trying to appreciate it as a work of fiction—when you hear footsteps. You don’t recognize them at all. They reverberate down the hallway, the only sound in the cool stony quiet. You are the sole prisoner currently held on this level. The guards watch from the doorway of the hall, but they do not interfere when you have visitors. The footsteps come to a stop outside your cell. Axel Hightower stands there.

You glance up at him momentarily, then back down to your book. “I hope the prince doesn’t know you’re here. You should leave before he murders you.”

“We need to talk.”

“There is nothing for us to discuss, I assure you.”

“There is, wife,” Axel insists. “There is.”

You put down the prayer book. He is the man who you remember, but he also isn’t; he is wiry and solemn and jagged in places where he was soft before. You cannot imagine this man riding in a lighthearted joust and asking for your favor as he once did. You cannot imagine him smiling with chubby, childish cheeks and mellow eyes. You search yourself for any semblance of affection for him. If you ever had it, it is long gone now. “What do you want?”

“To implore you to relent, to see reason,” he says. “I will overlook this indiscretion. You believed I was dead, you were in need of comfort, you were…” He hunts for the right word. “Vulnerable. Impressionable. I will forgive you entirely for what happened with Prince Aemond. He took advantage of you, I’m sure of it. He is monstrous in both body and mind.”

“He sees more with one eye than you do with two.”

Axel’s gaze narrows. It is brimming with confounded, small-minded vexation, like a child who’s been told not to play with something that could destroy them: fire, perhaps, or an irresistibly gleaming blade, light reflecting from polished metal like sunbeams off waves. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

“I won’t go back to you, Axel.”

“You must. There is no other possible outcome. Don’t you understand? If I let you go, I would be ruined. No well-bred woman would marry me while the realm mutters about me being a bigamist behind our backs. There is no walking away from this union. And I will not be made a laughingstock, a cuckold. The Seven saved me from starvation on that island. They surely have a greater destiny in store for me than watching my reputation crumble into ash.”

You refuse to give him the victory of your full attention. You stare at the wall instead, counting the stones there. They are chipped and cracked and irregular, jutting out like dragon teeth. “I won’t do it.”

“But I will provide for you!” he says, exasperated. “I will pardon you, I will raise this child as my own. We can build something incredible together. We can ask for favors from Otto Hightower, lands and castles and enviable positions at court for our children one day, and he will give them to us as payment for our willingness to remedy this…this…disaster!”

“I am aware of no disaster,” you reply defiantly.

Axel’s face ages, darkens, sharpens. His skull is a demon straining against his leathery, sun-lined skin. You imagine moon-white bone splitting through the flesh. You imagine your stomach lurching with revulsion if he ever touches you again. “Oh, seven hells. You really think you’re in love with him.”

“I owe you no explanations.”

“You owe me everything!” he snarls, gripping the iron bars as he glares into the cell at you. “A marriage to me, into my house, was the best possible match your father could hope for. And now that isn’t good enough for you? Now you think yourself worthy of a Targaryen, of a prince? You are delusional, wife. Perhaps your grief for me drove you mad. Perhaps you cannot be trusted with the care of that child once it’s born.”

“The only thing that could drive me mad is the thought of your hands ruffling my child’s hair, lifting them onto a horse, teaching them to wield a sword. You are so unworthy it sickens me.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m not going to live in fear, Axel. Not of you. Not of anyone.”

He takes several deep breaths, rubs his face with both hands, regroups, calms himself. “In any case, what you want is of little consequence. Ivar Kellington will win the trial by combat, this is a certainty. It need not result in death. All Prince Aemond has to do is yield. He will yield, wife, this I guarantee you. And you will return with me to Oldtown.”

“I’ll throw myself from a balcony first.”

He studies you with wounded, bewildered eyes. “You’re so different from the woman I used to know.”

You reply without looking at him. “You never knew me at all.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The footsteps race down the hallway; they rustle through the straw that litters the dirt floor. These ones are light and swift and wholly familiar.

“I heard he was here,” Aemond says in a rush. He hates Axel bitterly, perhaps almost as much as he hates Rhaenyra’s sons. The vitriol between them is so great that Otto Hightower has knights of the Kingsguard following each of them around the castle to ensure neither kills the other. Presently, two knights are hovering in the doorway of the hall and trading hearsay with three dungeon guards. They are discussing Ivar Kellington’s manslaughter record; is it ten victims, or twelve? You try not to listen.

“Fear not. He caused me no harm and retreated quickly. I made him very unwelcome.”

“I wish he had the valor to fight me himself. I would take great pleasure in introducing his entrails to his boots.”

“I know, Silver.” You touch his face through the bars, your palm pressed to his scarred cheek. He kisses you; the cold, rough, flaking metal that separates you scrapes both of your skin. It’s a pain that you would bear a thousand times over. You wonder if you will ever feel him inside you again. You wonder if he will ever meet his child. “I suppose I should offer to return to Axel and free you from this conflict, this suffocating weight. I should offer to let you go.”

“There is no need. I have told you already. I will have no other.” He kisses you again, knots his fingers in your hair, murmurs something in High Valyrian that you can’t understand.

“You are not permitted to use words I don’t know yet.”

“Then I’ll just have to teach you them all. We have time. We have the rest of our lives.” He lowers his voice so the knights and guards cannot hear, and for the first time you see fear—raw, primal fear—flicker in his eye, blue like the ocean, like fresh bruises, like veins. “I could use your help, Moonstone.”

“You have it. But I can’t do much from in here.”

“What do you need?” he asks softly. “For a protection spell. I remember the scent of sage. And the bloody bear teeth, of course.”

“Rosemary. Sea salt. A few pieces of black jade, small enough for me to crush with a mortar and pestle. A candle. It has to be white, pure white. And my flint and dagger to light it.”

Aemond nods distractedly. “I can get all of that. The dagger, flint, and mortar and pestle are still hidden in your room. Sir Criston can help me with the bear. The maesters can help me with the rest of it.” His eye shifts to the iron bars of your cell. “I can’t get you out of here though. I am followed by the Kingsguard anywhere I go within the castle walls. They are posted outside my chambers at night. The only guests granted privacy are Sir Criston and members of the royal family.”

You mull this over; you steep in it like a swelteringly hot bath. At night, the dungeon guards are stationed on the other side of the hallway door to give you privacy. They peek in on you every few hours—the creaking of the door sometimes wakes you—but otherwise they play cards and exchange off-color jokes and maybe even indulge in a nap or two as far as you know. They leave the keys to your cell hanging from a rusty nail protruding from the hallway wall. Aemond could go hunting with Sir Criston and that would raise no suspicions; he’s spent a great deal of time with the knight preparing for the trial by combat. He could speak with the maesters in the library and that would be perfectly fine. He could accept packages from them, even. He could enter Helaena’s chambers—which contain your bedroom as a (former, fallen) lady-in-waiting—and emerge with a bundle of goods tucked under one arm, and no one would bat an eye. But he cannot bring anything to you without the Kingsguard following him, without the dungeon guards jolting awake to oversee him. There is no way to free you so you can cast your spell beneath the heart tree. There is no way for Aemond to deliver you the necessary ingredients and tools without exposing you as a witch. If only there was someone else, anyone else…someone versed in deceit and slinking and shameful, treacherous secrets. At last you ask: “Who aren’t they watching quite so closely?”

The idea hits Aemond like a fist. He smiles. “You know, it is said that there are hidden passageways that crisscross the Red Keep. Maegor the Cruel had the castle builders executed so they could not spill its mysteries. I, being the upstanding and honorable prince that I am, am completely inexperienced with such things. But perhaps I know a man who is less…virtuous.”

Your lips meet one final time, hot and famished in the damp, ominous chill of the dungeon. You thread a lock of his sleek silver hair between your fingers. His hand closes around your moonstone pendant, his eye shut as if in prayer.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is not long after midnight—judging by your rough estimation—when you hear a scratching out in the hallway like rat claws. There are rats in the dungeons, even on this level, you’ve seen more than a few of them (though you did not mention that to Aemond); but this is no rodent. You creep out of bed and wait by your cell door, clutching the cold iron bars. As you watch, a small, square wooden flap opens up out of the dirt and straw of the hallway floor. Disturbed, ancient earth puffs up into the air like filthy smoke. Out of the opening, which is just wide enough for his shoulders to fit through, rises Aegon Targaryen. He stifles a cough in the crook of his elbow and crawls out into the hallway.

“Hi,” you whisper, amused.

“Hi.” He looks around in the dim torchlight, locates the ring of keys hanging by a rusty nail, and starts trying to shove them one by one into the lock of your cell. The fourth key is the winner. The cell door squeals as he opens it.

“Shh!”

“The hinges are old, what do you want me to do?!” he whispers back. He smells like wine and sweat and dirt, but he is relatively steady. There are cobwebs in his white-blond hair. “Bad dungeon cell, bad, you be quiet!”

He puts the ring of keys back on the wall. You scurry to your bed and begin bunching up the blankets and pillows so it might look like you’re obediently sleeping there upon a cursory check.

“Don’t bother,” Aegon says, then points to the wooden door he came through. “We can’t cover that back up if we both go in.”

You nod, understanding perfectly. You don’t have much time.

You follow him through the trapdoor. You have to crouch in order to pull it shut by the rope handle; the passageway is only about half as tall as you are. There is weak torchlight coming from farther down the tunnel. “This way,” Aegon says. You crawl towards the light, and after a while there is a steep decline like a colossal step on a staircase. When you drop over the other side—facing backwards so you can grip the top of the step as you lower yourself down—you find a corridor tall enough to stand upright in. Aegon hands you the lit torch from a sconce on the wall and picks up the burlap sack he left on the floor here, the one Aemond must have given him. He groans as he lifts it; the mortar and pestle give it considerable heft. “It took me two hours to find you, can you believe that? I’ve been using these passageways for years but I’ve never had cause to visit the dungeons before. I drank all the wine already. Now I’m almost sober. It’s a terrible inconvenience.”

The floor is made of packed, reddish earth. Cobwebs swing limply from the stones that form the walls and ceiling. There is a cold, biting draft; the sun never touches this place to warm it. There are clusters of bats suspended by their feet. There are stark white specks on the ground…rat bones, you realize. “You’ve brought women here?”

“As if you are above getting impregnated in surreptitious, gloomy places.” He opens the burlap sack to peer inside. “What’s this stuff for, anyway? There’s a knife, and some rocks, and, like, leaves, I guess, and…oh, what the fuck! There are teeth in here!”

“Bear teeth,” you say. “But I think I need something stronger this time.”

In the firelight, he blinks at you, the pieces clicking together: the horrid ingredients of a forbidden spell, Aemond’s peculiar luck in the joust, your strange Northerner blood, this errand he’s been conscripted for. “You’re a witch, aren’t you?”

You reply without answering him. “I need you to take me to Balerion’s skull.”

Aegon weaves through a series of snakelike corridors, barely needing the torchlight to navigate. A hidden door opens out into a hallway that leads to the vast, vacant chamber. What remains of the Black Dread is suspended over an altar of lit candles. In the shadowy, treacherous light, you can catch glimpses of eyes glaring hungrily from Balerion’s empty sockets; not a muddy green like Vhagar’s, but blood-red, wrathful, murderous.

“You seemed to know your way here well enough,” you note.

“Nothing gets women wetter than hearing about how I’m ‘the blood of the dragon’ and all that.” He leaves the burlap sack on the floor and climbs up onto the altar, stomping out candles as he does. He looks doubtfully at Balerion’s large, crooked, protruding teeth. “You really think we can pry one of those out?”

“We have to.” You slide the torch into a sconce and take your dagger—decorated with the roaring bear of House Mormont—out of the burlap sack. You scramble up onto the altar, burning your ankles and shins in the process, and jab the sharp, narrow blade into the sliver of space where the fanglike tooth is fused to Balerion’s upper jaw. You saw the dagger back and forth, trying to loosen the root of the tooth.

“Let me do it,” Aegon says, extending his open palm.

“I can manage.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to be overexerting yourself? Why do you think I didn’t have you carry your little bag of contraband? Just give me the dagger.” He picks up where you left off, grunting with the effort of wrestling with the tooth. “Is this sacrilegious? My participation in witchcraft?”

“I don’t think you’re getting into heaven either way.”

“There are seven heavens, you heathen.”

“And none of them will want you.”

“Says the bigamist.” He smirks at you. His tone is fond, but there is trepidation there as well. “It’s a shame that Axel’s a Hightower. Otherwise Aemond could just kill him. But alas…” He recites this next part as if he has heard it a million times on a million separate occasions. He’s almost mocking it. “No man is so accursed as the kinslayer.”

You think of your chosen husband, the prince, the man you love. He is quick to threaten, true, but you have never detected a certain violence in him, a certain nonchalant quality when balancing the value of human life. “Has he ever killed anyone before?”

“No. Not that I’m aware of.”

“But you think he’s capable of it.”

“Oh yes. Under the right circumstances. He’s prepared his whole life to spill blood in pursuit of legacy. He’s studied warfare and weaponry. He’s trained with the sword. He’s coveted the crown. He’s wanted it for so long, but he’s never felt its weight.” Aegon frowns as he struggles with Balerion’s stubborn tooth. “Maybe it should have been him who was born first. Maybe it shouldn’t have been. I don’t fucking know.”

You stare into the Black Dread’s sinister dead gaze, ice-cold dread twisting through your bones like tendrils of ivy. “I shouldn’t have fought Axel. I should have agreed to leave King’s Landing with him. I could have prevented all of this.”

Aegon shakes his head, chuckling. “No, Aemond will never surrender you. You are a peace offering from the Seven. Or the Old Gods, or the universe itself, or fate or destiny, whatever you choose to believe in.”

“What do you mean?”

“They took his eye but gave him a dragon. They took his throne but gave him you.” Balerion’s tooth pops loose. Aegon hands it to you, grinning. “Now what comes next, witch?”

You leave the torch in a secret passageway that leads out into the godswood; there can be no inessential light to attract the attention of the myriad of noble guests slumbering in the Red Keep. Under the heart tree where you were wed just days ago—days that feel like decades—you ignite the white candle with your dagger and flint and let the melted wax become one with the ancient root like bloodlines knit together in the womb. You grind the bloody bear teeth, sage, rosemary, sea salt, and pieces of black jade with the mortar and pestle. As you do this, and under your direction, Aegon crushes the dragon tooth into fragments with a rock. Then you mix Balerion’s savage essence with the other ingredients.

“What will this do?” Aegon says, meaning the spell. And then he adds with deliberate skepticism: “If it works, I mean.”

“It will protect him.” And you chant the familiar, ancient words as you finish grinding the herbs and salt and grains of black jade and shards of teeth into a fine pinkish powder, candlelight dancing across your skin: “Protect him. Break others if you must, burn others if you must, bury others if you must…but protect him.”

You hear the distant snap of a twig. You whirl towards the noise. In the darkness—punctuated only by light from the moon and stars—it is impossible to discern details. Your eyes search for movement, for faces. You cannot find any.

“What?” Aegon asks.

“Nothing. Never mind.” You pass him the mortar full of pale pink dust gingerly, as if it is a small child. He places it into the burlap sack. “You have to spread it under his bed. All of it. Every last crumb.”

“I will.” And something about the way Aegon says this makes you trust him entirely.

After taking a moment to consider it, you hold out your dagger from Bear Island. “Give him this too.”

Aegon escorts you back to the dungeon. Everything is exactly as you left it; if anyone has inspected your cell, there are no apparent signs. When Aegon disappears through the wooden trapdoor, you cover it with a layer of dirt and plenty of straw as well. Then you return to your cell. You can’t lock the latch from inside without keeping the ring of keys and thus revealing your temporary escape, but you can shut the door and hope the guards don’t notice or—more likely—assume it was their own oversight. You lay in bed and stare up at the ceiling. In disjointed, dreamlike flashes, you think of Aegon and Helaena and Axel, Sir Criston, the sad queen, the dying king, Rhaenyra and Daemon on Dragonstone, your child, your mother, your husband, dragonfire. And you are balancing on the knife’s edge of sleep when you hear a guard come in to check on you.

He lumbers down the hallway, rattles the cell door, mutters about his idiot colleague, and re-locks it. Then he retreats back to his post to nap the rest of his night shift away.

~~~~~~~~~~

The trial by combat is held in the courtyard where Prince Aemond has trained since boyhood. Nobles—men, women, children, swooning aspiring princesses—encircle the dirt-floored arena and babble amongst themselves, offering prayers and wagering bets. They do not gamble on who will win, but rather how long it will take before Aemond yields: two minutes, one minute, less. The royal family is watching from above in their seats on top of the castle wall. The withering king is absent. Otto Hightower is stern-faced and anticipating an imminent resolution of this crisis: Aemond will yield, Axel’s cause will prevail, and you will be dragged back to Oldtown to rot in obscurity while the prince marries a Baratheon or a Stark or a Lannister or some other daughter of a powerful and wealthy house. What Queen Alicent wants is less clear. Her face is pale and pained, perhaps even conflicted. Helaena is wringing her hands. Aegon is very, very drunk. He lurches out of his chair—decorated with a seven-pointed star—and reels down the steps to visit you. As you are not yet (nor ever likely to be) an accepted member of the royal family, you are standing on the ground with the other courtiers. They keep their distance from you. They act as if touching you would give them greyscale or plague or worse.

“You look lovely,” Aegon slurs. You are dressed in the moonstone gown you last wore on the night Axel’s reappearance ruined your life. It matches the pendant strung around your neck.

“You look barely conscious.”

“Yes,” Aegon says woefully. “I don’t care to witness what happens next.”

The crowd cheers as the combatants enter the courtyard. Ivar Kellington, towering and heavily armored, strides in with Axel trotting alongside him. Aemond is accompanied by Sir Criston, who is still offering last-minute wisdom, demonstrating techniques with his own sword. The prince spots you, smiles, approaches you as nobles grumble disapprovingly. When he is close, you can see that he has rubbed the dust from your spell onto his forearms, his palms, his throat. To anyone else it would look like mere chalk or salt. To you it is a declaration of faith. Axel glowers at you both from the other side of the courtyard.

Aemond is wearing hardly any armor at all. His strategy is moving quickly and agilely; heavy armor would only constrain him, slow him down, obstruct his already halved vision. Knights of the Kingsguard follow him towards you and then look uncertainly to Otto for guidance. Otto Hightower sighs and covers his face with one hand. The knights stand by.

“I have much to thank you for,” Aemond says, and gestures to what hangs from his belt: his sword, his dagger, and your own dagger as well, the roaring bear of the hilt glinting in the sunlight. His hands cradle your face and he kisses you deeply, feverishly, his tongue darting between your lips. Your knees go weak; your thoughts, for one blissful moment, dissolve into a haze. “I’ll be needing more of you soon. I’m starving for it. I’m coming back.”

“Aemond,” you plead in a whisper, the first time you’ve ever called him by his true name.

“I’m coming back,” he repeats determinedly, his grin crooked. “Fear not, wife. You cannot rid yourself of me. I have claimed you for life.” And then he murmurs something in High Valyrian—the same thing he said when he visited you in the dungeon, the words you have not yet learned—before breaking away to meet Sir Kellington in the center of the courtyard.

You look to Aegon for a translation. Your husband often laments his siblings’ lack of scholarly interest in High Valyrian. Helaena knows only the dragon commands. Aegon refuses to study the language beyond what he needs to communicate with Sunfyre, but he can understand quite a bit of it. He overheard plenty of conversations between Rhaenyra and King Viserys as a young boy. The king never bothered to teach High Valyrian to his children with Alicent.

The racoon-eyed, firstborn son smiles. “He said that he loves you.” And then he totters away to sit with his family on top of the wall.

There is a septon spewing some ritualistic opening words. “We are gathered here in the sight of gods and men…”

You recite your own words within your mind. Protect him, protect him, protect him.

Axel Hightower is staring intensely, trying to catch your gaze. You ignore him. You had meant what you said about throwing yourself off a balcony before you would submit to returning to him. But perhaps you would prefer cutting his throat.

Ivar Kellington and Aemond face each other, clutching swords in their right fists. The man they call Killington is deathly still. Aemond is shifting his weight from one foot to the other, keeping himself lithe and alert. He looks so small next to the giant, so young. You picture him as the boy he once was, runtish and outnumbered when his eye was carved from his skull. He was so brave. He was so alone. Sir Criston circles the combatants from a distance, preparing to shout instructions to Aemond. You tug on your pendant as your heartbeat thunders in your ears. Aemond twirls his sword as he waits for the trial to begin. And then it does.

The prince lunges at Kellington with weightless, manic speed. His sword parries Kellington’s once, twice, again, and then lands a strike on the giant’s helmet. The clang echoes through the courtyard. There are awed applause and whistles. The crowd expects Kellington to win, of course—they depend upon it, if they hope for their daughters to have a chance at marrying into the royal family—but they would be pleased to witness an honorable performance from Aemond. There is no shame in losing well. Sir Criston is smiling, just barely. Kellington swings his sword—nearly twice the size of Aemond’s—but the prince easily maneuvers around it. His blade hits Kellington in the back, the gut, the knees. The giant bellows in pain and frustration. He sounds like a lion or a bear or a dragon. He sounds more like an animal than a man.

Aemond’s eye is scrutinizing Kellington’s armor for weak points: at the neck, under the arms, the naked face. He dives to bury his sword in Kellington’s massive armpit but is rebuffed. He strikes instead at the giant’s head again, and then his chest, loosing metallic booms. Kellington swings blindly, clumsily. Aemond manages to get his hands around the giant’s helmet and wrenches it off, tossing it into the crowd. There are claps and cheers from some, groans from others who have already lost their bets.

And then Kellington’s armored elbow slams into Aemond’s face on his bad side, his blind side. Blood spurts from Aemond’s nose and split lip. The prince hurtles away, half-falling and half-sprinting to get out of the giant’s reach. He shakes his head, trying to clear out the pain like smoke from a room. He turns with his sword raised to block Kellington’s blow, but the giant’s strength is too great; Kellington’s blade knocks Aemond’s sword from his grasp. It goes flying off into the courtyard.

“No!” Sir Criston howls, unable to stop himself.

Aemond regains his footing and draws his dagger. He side-steps rapidly, keeping Kellington in his view, his blue eye wide and hurting and vicious. The giant’s sword slices through the air but the prince evades it. Aemond leaps forward with his dagger aimed for Kellington’s face. The giant seizes Aemond’s right forearm, squeezes it, crushes it. The crack of snapped bone rings out through the courtyard. Now the audience is appalled, fearful. Aemond does not scream, but there is a choked sort of gasping; the dagger tumbles out of his grip. You can see blood pouring into his hand from where the bone of his arm split the skin. You can see the disbelief and terror taking shape in the lines of his face.

Twisting his broken arm, Kellington forces Aemond down to his knees. With his right hand, the giant lays his sword against Aemond’s bare neck. Dust from your futile spell mars the pristine, reflective metal of the blade. “Do you yield?” Kellington snarls.

Calls for Aemond to yield reverberate through the courtyard—through the whole world, it seems—but above it all you can hear the words that he spoke to you weeks ago on Bearstone. They don’t make any sense, they are random and tragic and useless…and then, suddenly, they aren’t.

Jace threw dirt in my face and Luke cut me.

“Do you yield?!” Kellington says again.

Aemond stares up at him, hateful and agonized and—Jace threw dirt in my face—defiant.

“Yield!” Otto commands.

“Yield, Prince Aemond, yield!” the crowd cries out with mounting frenzy.

“Yield, you idiot!” Aegon shrieks.

You are the only one who remains silent, outwardly at least. The words rise up in you like fire in the mouth of a dragon. They echo in your skull, soundless and yet blaring. Like when you were a boy, like when you were a boy, like when you were a boy…

You see the realization ripple across Aemond’s face. He grabs a fistful of earth with his left hand. He flings it into the giant’s eyes. And as Kellington is trying to blink and paw the dirt away—in those few fateful seconds—Aemond rips your dagger from his belt, jumps to his feet, and slits Ivar Kellington’s throat to the bone. Blood flows like a river, gushes into the earth, bubbles in the wreckage of Kellington’s severed windpipe. The giant plummets face-first into the ground, never to rise again.

The sounds that engulf you are a storm of jeers, applause, triumph, bitter disappointment. The horde is pulsing and ungovernable. Aemond finds you in the deafening crowd and pulls you against his chest with his unbroken arm, sheltering you from the shoving and the cheers and the hisses. He rests his forehead against yours. Blood drips down from his face and his hair onto you. You are both bathed in hot, slick, scarlet rain. Your moonstone gown is freckled with it; your cheeks are stained. You taste its coppery stickiness when you kiss him. “Your arm—”

“It will heal, wife,” he says hoarsely. “Perhaps miraculously quickly, with your talents.”

“I love you too.”

“I certainly hope so. You are mine for life.”

The septon is proclaiming to the thunderstruck audience: “The Seven have spoken. The lady’s marriage to Axel Hightower is hereby annulled. Her marriage to Prince Aemond Targaryen is declared legal and indisputable, and any issue they produce is legitimate.” Otto Hightower’s jaw hangs open. Queen Alicent is weeping grateful, elated tears. Helaena is beaming. Aegon wears a glazed, vague, drunken smile. Axel has collapsed and is pounding the earth with his fists.

From his island in the sea of shouts and blood, Larys Strong watches you. He was in the godswood last night as sure as he is here now, and he has valuable information to share with the queen. Now is not the time; now she is overcome with relief and pride and the limitless compassion of a mother sloshing in her veins like the reddest wine. But the right time will come. In plain sight and yet unseen, Larys smiles malevolently, yearningly.

Oh yes, the time will come very soon.

[smallestapplin]

How do you think botw!submas will react once they find out reader is the hero of legend that's been asleep for 100 years?

I love me this au. You’re getting called hero a LOT.

-

-

You never wanted them to find this out in fear they’d treat you differently, you didn’t want them looking at you like you were some sort of savior.

You just wanted to be treated like a person, and how an unkillable hero, and not someone to run errands for them.

You just wanted friends that weren’t tied to some past you didn’t know, or have some high expectation of you.

You just wanted to be you.

Whoever that is.

They wanted to tag along with you, and they had been for a while. The twins make great travel companions, always prepared and just amazing company.

You don’t see like you’re going crazy, you have them to focus on during down times and not stew in your suppressed emotions, and spiraling thoughts.

You kept trying to keep them from Kakariko Village, coming up with as many things as possible to keep them away, but they were determined and excited to see the very people they have those locomotive plans from.

You silently prayed to Hylia that no one would say anything.

But you knew it was unlikely, you had to see Impa anyways.

The two look around the small village in awe.

“It’s so simple, yet so beautiful! Just what you’d expect!”

“Mhm! They seem to have everything they need here.”

As you three walked towards Impa’s house a few Sheikah greet you along the way.

“Everyone sure is friendly here.” Emmet comments, looking around a bit more.

“Stay here.“

“What!? We couldn’t possibly! Wouldn’t that be rude?”

You look to Ingo and the pouty face of his twin.

“No.“

“I suppose you’re right, we are outsiders to them still, maybe we can look around the shops.”

“Hill top shrine would better.“

Before they could argue one of the guards spoke up.

“It’s okay to for you to bring your companions, hero! Lady Impa would be more than happy to see you.”

You internally wince at his words before nodding, gesturing the twins to follow you.

Emmet bounds right after you with Ingo not too far behind.

“Sooo hero? What did you do to earn that around here?”

You ignore Emmet, refusing to answer his question before stopping at the top, where you’re greeted by Paya.

“Grandma w..will be happy to see you, hero!”

She’s quick to move out of your way and going back to cleaning.

The twins share a look, having a silent conversation as you open the doors.

“Ah! There you are, welcome back hero. Oh? I see you’ve brought some friends with you, that’s good to see.” The old woman smiles at you three.

“It’s an honor to meet you ma’am! I’m Ingo, and this is my brother Emmet.”

“I am Emmet!”

Impa chuckles.

“Glad to see the hero is making new friends.”

With pleasantries made Impa turns her attention to you.

“Have you been to the places the princess took those pictures of?”

“Been to a few.“

“Ah that’s good, the sheikah slate should come in handy for that. Have you visited Purah to upgrade the slate?”

“I have.“

“Excellent! You should regain all you’ve lost in no time at this rate, all you need is to find your sword that seals away the darkness. That is all.”

You turned on your heel a left, hearing the two men trip to go after you.

“Slow down!” They shout in unison.

But you don’t, you head right back out of the village as fast as you could. You don’t need them asking questions about this, you didn’t want them to know!

You manage to get just at the start of the entrance to kakariko before they stopped you.

Emmet’s face was one of pure excitement.

“You’re the hero!? You’re the hero of legend!? Why didn’t you tell us? That’s so cool! You must have so many thrilling and fun stories about your adventures and the champions!”

You stood there in silence as Emmet rambles.

Ingo however didn’t share his brother’s enthusiasm.

“You’re the hero? What the hell happened then? Where have you been for the last one hundred years?”

The two continue asking questions before falling as silent as you.

“Y/n?”

They grow concerned by the hardened look on your face.

“I don’t know, I don’t know who the champions were, I don’t know why what happened, all I know is I woke up in a chamber of some kind and was tasked with helping hyrule.”

Before Emmet could ask any further, Ingo tests a hand on his shoulder.

The two share a look, one you hate as it’s their silent conversation.

Emmet’s face grows saddened.

“You lost everything, and you don’t even remember what it is that you lost.” Emmet recalled you saying you don’t remember a lot.

But now it’s hitting hard, you don’t remember your friends, your life, or anything before waking up.

“All that stress you must’ve been under, you don’t even remember it, do you?” Ingo’s eyes gaze at you with such heartbreak.

“I have my name, and a task to do, that is all.”

You keep it short but they don’t let it up.

Emmet is the first to move, wrapping you in a tight, comforting hug. His head rests on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry for all of this.”

Ingo joins the hug.

“You deserve a break, we are sorry for all you have been put through.”

They are sorry? For what? None of this was their fault.

So why do you feel like this?

“Shh Shh it’s okay, we are here for you, and will be every step of the way.” Ingo’s voice is so soothing.

You’re confused by one of their respective hands moving up to your face, and wiping something away from your cheeks.

You’re crying? Hero’s don’t cry, you needed to stay strong and carry a front at all times.

So why are you crying? Why are you sobbing?

You grip the backs of their shirts, burying your face in Emmet’s shirt and start wailing.

You’ve never been told such things, you’ve never been held so warmly, with such tenderness.

You’ve never been allowed to express anything.

You are the princess’s personal guard and champion, that’s all you are and all you think you have been.

Never your own thing.

You can’t stop crying on them, it’s like the floodgates have been opened.

But they aren’t mad.

They softly him and whisper comforting words to you as they hold you, gently rubbing your back to help sooth you.

“It’s okay.” Emmet rubs his cheek against your soaked one.

“You’ve done so well, it’s okay to rest, we are here for you.” Ingo rubs circles on your back.

“Hero of legend or not, you’re still our friend, and nothing will change that.” Emmet smiles, cooing at your watery chuckle.

“You maybe the hero, but you’re our friend too! We are still going to worry over you, your status changes nothing.”

You look between them, blinking the tears away to see them more clearly.

They still want to be around you.

They still like you.

Saying they don’t see you any differently.

That they are still your friends.

An unfamiliar warmth fills your chest.

Your heart pounding out of your chest, from what you are unsure of.

Your wipe your tears away and nod.

“I’m tired.”

The two men laugh.

“Let’s go set up camp then!”

“I would like a nap.”

Emmet wheezes.

“Crying took that much out of you?”

“Must’ve been a nice cry, but I understand it’s tiring, let’s go.” Ingo grabs your hand and you three begin walking.

Emmet right beside you, smiling so wide and genuine.

Maybe….no, this is fine, you won’t ask for more than this.

[vemuabhi]

Disney Romance - Cinderella’s Bird - 200 followers special

@littlesniggy​ said : Hey you! Now it's my turn to request something! Kida sad you don't write for Akainu but I can understand 😂 He's an asshole! If it hasn't been requested yet, would you do Mulan/Cinderella with Kid x female reader? I'm super excited which one you choose/ if you choose it at all! Thank you!

A/N : Omg thankyou so much for sending an ask @littlesniggy​ san!!! I am so excited to answer this for you! I loved writing for the grumpy boy. This was really a beautiful experience writing this for Eustass KIdd. Please don’t have high expectations for this.

Warning : A big fic written by me. But has a happy ending.

Word count : 2.7K

I hope you like it!

XOXOXOXO

“Why the hell should I get married now?”, you complained to your Robin who always was beside you, she was a maid but you always admired her and always treated her like a friend not like a maid.

Robin sighed and patted your head as she took the place beside you on the bed. “I should have the choice when I want to get married. Not some jerk who is randomly selected by my parents”, you scoffed and plopped back on the soft burgundy-coloured bedsheets. Robin gave you a sad smile and said, “That’s true. I too believe that marriage should be for Love”

Being a princess isn’t easy. Every girl dream to be a princess but its not as beautiful like the fairy tales are. You are a live example for that. Not once you could decide for yourself. Even the big puffy yellow gown you were wearing was not of your choice. The corset was killing you inside. You wanted to rip it off and throw it out of your window. With language classes, you always had dance classes, tea sessions, music classes. Everything that was chosen by your parents, was practically forced upon you.

‘What kind of lunatic needs to learn how to drink tea?’, you cursed the tea sessions when ever you were being called to it. All you did was brew tea and drink during the whole time. The music classes were always a hectic. You wanted to learn an instrument but when you were given another. Your wishes were denied because who cares about your dreams? In the beginning even dance classes were troublesome, But you tried to put up with all those demands of your parents. In return they are now trying to get you married as soon as possible.

“I’m done with this Robin”, you spoke and got up. “I’ll do whatever I want”, your voice was stern and Robin was curious on what you were about to do.

“Cancel todays classes, I’ll be going to visit the town to relieve my stress”, you announced briskly walking towards the closet.

“Are you sure your highness? But how can you go alone? You must have someone wit-”

“Robin! Its fine. I can take care of myself”, you didn’t let her finish her sentence. Throwing your corset on the floor and dressing up like a maid didn’t take long enough. You made your way towards the secret passage in the palace and exited the palace. Even though Robin was worried, she had to stay back in the castle to make sure no one notices your leaving.

The town and the market were as lively as ever and you walked around the place. As you kept walking, you saw a couple who looked very much in love. You felt a bit envious of them. At least the commoners had the freedom to do what they like. As you were walking aimlessly in the market, you bumped into a tall buff guy.

“Oh I’m sorry”, after apologising you thought of leaving but it didn’t go well.

“Hey! How can you go away like that?” the man started to fight with you. As you felt the very heavy scent of alcohol hit your nostrils, you knew that this man was heavily drunk.

“What? I apologised so what’s your problem now?” you questioned as your dominant hand slowly reached for the sword hidden in your skirt.

“You bitch how dare you speak back to me?” he raised his hand to land a hit on you but just when you were about to take out the sword, his had was stopped mid-air. You then saw a man who had red hair. As soon as the jerk saw that man, it seemed like his senses came back to him again.

“Asshole! Didn’t I tell you this is my shop and never make a scene in front of it”, the man shouted at the rogue twisting his arm. He winced in pain as he apologised and ran away.

The red haired man went into a shop, what seemed like a shop of vegetables and fruits. ‘Was he a farmer?’, you thought and followed him. Looking inside, there were so many fresh vegetables and also fruits in the shop.

“What do you want?”, a sharp voice questioned making you turn towards the owner of the voice. It was the same red head from before.

“Uh, I… I’m here to buy”, you said and looked around again trying to seem convincing. He huffed and sat on a chair fiddling with something which seemed like a machine. Your interest perked up and you asked him, “What are you making?”, moving closer to take a peek at the machine.

“Why should I tell you?”, he spat but as he looked at your face, he noticed that your eyes were sparkling with curiosity and interest.

“Tsk”, he clicked his tongue and explained about the way he wanted to make a machine bird as you listened to him carefully. He kept telling you how helpful machines would be if used in the correct way.

“But, don’t you think, this material you are using to make this bird is kinda… cheap and looks like its gonna break soon?”, you questioned for which he frowned and replied, “Don’t you think I already know that? I… I just don’t have the money”, mumbling the last part.

“Oh! I got an idea. Listen to me, uhh..”

“Eustass Kidd”

“So, Kidd As this bird is still in the beginning process, I’ll bring you the material tomorrow. Till then don’t touch this. Okay now I need to leave. I’ll be taking this basket here”, you said and took a basket of strawberries and tossed a coin to him.

“HEY WAIT!! YOU DIDN’T EVE- and she’s gone”, still with that grumpy look Kidd took his screw driver to continue working on the bird. But he remembered you telling him to wait till tomorrow. So he sat back in his chair and exhaled.

“Its not because she told me to wait. I… I want to continue this tomorrow”, he huffed and folded his hands. Then he remembered about the coin you threw.

He opened his palm and his eyes widened as he looked at the coin. It was a gold coin. A freaking gold coin for a basket of strawberries.

“No way. What the heck is she thinking?”, he carefully placed it back in the locker and thought to give it back to you tomorrow.

At the castle you came back and continued with your remaining day. You should leave tomorrow. So you need to make plans.

“Robin I need you to do something for me”, you explained how you needed high quality metal and also the timings of classes to be shifted. So, it did happen and you had continuous morning classes without breaks but, you were a free after them and it made you to take material Kidd wanted to make the bird. Changing out from your attire of a princess you went to the same shop as yesterday. There you found the man coming towards you as if he was waiting for you all along.

“I got the material you need”, you said as you placed it beside his table where the bird was supposed to be made.

“Were you waiting for me? Sorry I was late”, you said and he instantly replied, “Wha- Who was waiting for you?”

“Ah ok”, you muttered as you saw him instantly looking and taking the material with a faint pink shade on his cheeks. He looked just like a child exited to play with his toys.

“Where the hell did you even get these? These are clearly expensive?”, his sudden questions made your thoughts to break.

“Ah… I got it from the Kings dumpster”, you made the blankest expression trying to hide your lie.

“Kings Dumpster?! The King threw away this metal when it’s like this?”, he asked as his brows raised when you just nodded.

“Tsk… and here I am, trying to get re-rid of rust from metal. Using them for the 100th time”, he huffed.

You both sat opposite to each other and he worked on the bird as you learned about the work he was doing. Helping him with giving the appropriate tool at times, you had more fun than you ever had in your life. He tried to return the gold coin but you didn’t take it and made a deal to take vegetables or fruits in return, for which he agreed. You both fist bumped as an agreement of the deal.

From that day, you made your way out of the castle to meet Kidd. Surprisingly, he always waited for you to come to work on the bird. Meanwhile he somewhere started to call you little lady and you actually liked it. It became a routine for you to take a basket of veggies or fruits every time you left the shop. Sometimes he’d you’d tag along with him to his small farm. He was totally proud of his farm. His eyes showed it. Where you knew you never felt that feeling that he was feeling. Never once in your life you felt you were proud of something you did. He was living a complete different life than yours. You found your heart skip a beat every time Kidd smiled. You liked him.

Kidd was unique. He was terrible in showing his emotions but he was a good person. Every time you left the castle for him, seemed right. You actually felt happy seeing him and working with him. But of course, this happiness didn’t last long. Your parents wanted you to get married soon and told you to pick a groom for yourself in the ball that is going to be hosted next week. Bloody next week.

Because of the ball, you had to take even more classes for walking like a princess and also more fashionistas coming to find the perfect gown for you. Due to those, you couldn’t meet Kidd for 4 days.

Meanwhile, Kidd waited for you staring at the front door of his shop. Whenever the door opened, he met with disappointment because it wasn’t you. He couldn’t even continue on his bird. He had doubts on his feelings for you but now, it was clear for him that he liked you. Your thoughts haunted him. His heart earned for you. Only for you to return.

After a long hard day of work, you sneaked out of the castle in the evening and went to Kidd’s shop. You opened the door and your eyes met with Kidds. You both stared at eachother for a few seconds before he spoke.

“Come in”, you obliged and walked into the shop towards the desk where you both made bird. It was just like it was 3 days ago. “You didn’t continue to make the bird?”, you inquired as he just turned away and shook his head as he scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact.

“Kidd, its late and I have to leave soon so listen to me”, his vision shifted to you as he gulped.

“But you just came, why do you have to leave?” he asked as he approached you and placed his hands on your shoulder.

“Aww did you miss me?” you tried to tease him but this time, he neither denied nor looked away from you blushing. He stayed silent for a while before he said, “I did”

You didn’t even expect that from Kidd. His hands travelled down from your shoulders to your hands. “I did miss you. So much that I couldn’t even touch that bird”, He looked serious. He placed one hand on your chin and looked into your eyes.

“I didn’t… I didn’t think your thoughts would haunt me that much when you didn’t come. I… I didn’t know when, why or how. But I know that, I have feelings for you little lady”, his voice trembled as he spoke the last bit.

“Kidd are you serious?” you asked placing a hand on his cheek. He leaned into your touch and nodded. His eyes looked desperate for your answer. Pulling him towards you, you connected your lips with his. The kiss was gentle and with so much of emotion.

Both pulled away to look into each other’s eyes. “I have feelings for you too Kidd”, you smiled and Kidd’s face lit up making you smile in return. He leaned and touched your forehead with yours and exhaled with relief. “Can I request you something Kidd?”, you asked and he nodded.

“Can you come to the castle this coming Wednesday?”

“To the castle? Why?”

“There is a ball going to be held and I want you to come”, you said and stepped back, away from his touch. “Now it’s my turn to wait for you, I should tell you something. So please come”, the last part sounded more like a pleading and with that you left the shop.

Kidd didn’t knew why you had to leave so early. His heart was beating so fast. Confused whether whatever happened now was real or not. He sat on his chair unable to remove your pleading face from earlier. Kidd looked at the bird which was unfinished and took the screw driver to continue working on it. Its been a while since he alone worked on something. It wasn’t a new feeling for him but still, he preferred to talk and have you around while he made it.

The day of the ball arrived. You wore your outfit and looked out the window at the crowd of people came to the castle. Men and women from so many places arrived there. With the help of Robin you made sure that when Kidd comes, he wouldn’t be stopped by any of the guards. The time was almost running out. The first dance was supposed to be started soon but you couldn’t find Kidd anywhere.

Your parents were urging you to find a partner and start the first dance. ‘So Kidd isn’t coming’, you thought and tilted your head up to prevent the tears falling out from your eyes. You pinched your skin trying to distract the pain away. Stepping on the ball room in your burgundy coloured dress, you walked with a straight face. Then suddenly your eyes fell on a person, who was trying to not be visible in the crowd but, his hair was definitely saying otherwise. You swiftly made your way towards that person.

People cleared way for you and it didn’t take long for you to meet the person with the red hair. He was wearing golden coloured suit and his hair was combed back neatly. He looked different but it was him. His cheeks turned the same colour of his hair. You chuckled and took his hand, pulling him towards the middle of the ball room. You placed your hands on his shoulder and pulled him closer to you. His hand trembled before he placed it on your waist. With that the music played and you both danced, with other people also dancing.

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

“How could I? You are a princess and why didn’t you tell me you were a princess?”

“Would you even talk to me like you did if you knew I were a princess?”

“That’s… true but… now here I am, with the princess Y/N in my arms”, he said pulling you closer. You giggled and pushed back the strand of hair which was on his forehead. You both smiled at each other and continued dancing. After the first dance, he pulled you away from the ball room and you followed. He walked towards the garden where no one was and took out something from under the bench.

“What did you bring?”, you asked. He turned and showed it to you. Your eyes went wide looking at the bird that he brought.

“You made her at last!” you exclaimed as he looked down shyly. “Yeah kind of made it. I wanted to show it to you today”

“I love it so much”, you said as you took it in your hands. It was your memory. The time you spent making it with Kidd. It was precious to you two.

“Keep it. It’s yours now”, he said as he smiled.

“Really?! I will take care of it so well”, you replied and jumped on him making him catch you quickly. You looked at him and leaned in for kissing him again. Now, it was passionate. No one to intrude as you were alone. Smiling you pulled back and leaned your forehead with his.

You now found a grumpy man, who would understand you and would really be the reason for you to smile.

Made with picrew

XOXOXOXO

I hope you liked it. Thankyou for reading.

A comment, Like/Vote, Reblog/Share would be appreciated!!

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[kaunis-sielu]

A Knight’s Lady: 12

Steve leaves at first light, you hold your tears until he can’t see you anymore. Then you let them flow freely, Virginia loops an arm around your waist.

“They’re going to be back before you know it.” She assures you softly and you nod.

“I didn’t think I was this attached already.” You whisper wiping your tears from your face with a small laugh.

“How can I distract you?”

“Let’s work on my room, there’s still much that needs to be added and you’ve got such a wonderful eye.”

“That sounds perfect your Grace.” She agrees and so the next two days are spent designing and ordering a new desk and chair as well as a wardrobe to keep out of season clothing. You also decide to have the windows changed, the afternoon brings the sun to your windows and you’d like to really make the room sing with some colored glass.

On the third day Bucky comes to find you out in the garden.

“Your Grace, someone is coming.”

“Who?”

“They’re carrying a flag that looks familiar but we don’t know who they are.” You hurry to the front of the castle where you can see into the valley below and much to your horror you know the flag.

“Th-that’s my f-father.” You whisper, the horror evident in your voice.

“Did you invite him?”

“I would never. The only person I’d ever invite here is Daisy.” He nods, “Wanda! We need to get my hair up.”

“Steve likes it down.”

“Yes but my father won’t and since Steve isn’t here to defend me I need to play this very carefully.” Bucky frowns, “James, when he gets here you do not leave my side.”

“Of course.”

“No, no matter what happens, if his men start something, if there’s an emergency you do not leave my side.”

“On my honor your Grace, I will not leave your side.”

“Thank you.” You and Wanda hurry to your room and she does your hair up in a quick but elaborate looking updo.

“Your Grace you’re shaking.”

“My father, isn’t a good man. I don’t know why he’s here but I know it’s not good.”

“Bucky will protect you with his life, you should send Strange to Steve, let him know.”

“You’re a genius!” You scribble a note to Steve and hand it to her, “Give this to Strange, if you see Virginia tell her I need her in the great hall.”

“Yes your Grace.” She says and you and Bucky make your way to the great hall where you wait, your hands clasped in front of you to hide your shaking.

“Your Grace?” Virginia says joining you on the small raised space.

“Just stay here with me, my father is here and having a Lady at my side will help.”

“Yes, your Grace.” She stands off to the side like a Lady serving a Duchess would and moments later the doors swing open and your father and Hammer come stalking into the room like they own the place. Bucky stays back behind you in the shadows but you’re grateful for his watchful gaze.

“Father,”

“Silence.” He orders and you close your mouth with a snap, there’s some movement behind you but you don’t turn around, you trust Bucky will not leave you. “Where is the Duke?”

“He was called t-to the palace. For a k-k-knighting c-ceremony.”

“That isn’t what I heard. I heard he bored of you and went to marry the princess. So you’ll be coming home with me and I’ll see if Lord Thanos will still take you.” Virginia gasps drawing your father’s attention.

“You’re dismissed.” He says to her and she lifts her chin.

“The Duchess is the only one who can dismiss me.”

“How dare you,” Your father growls before turning on you, “Dismiss her!”

“No.” You say softly, your heart pounding in your chest. Your father takes four strides toward you and Bucky is there. Sword drawn.

“I am her father!” He sneers, “I will not have her disgrace our family any longer!” Hammer rushes Bucky and your father takes the opportunity to grab you and drag you down the steps. Then to your shock another person moves in and rips your father’s hand off of you then shoves you behind them.

“Steve.” You breathe, relief and wonder course through you.

“How dare you touch my wife!” Steve roars, “how dare you come into our home and threaten her?” He snaps shoving your father back off of the steps.

“Your Grace, what a pleasure. I heard you were attending another wedding with the princess.”

“This lie again?” Steve growls, “my love did you invite your father here?”

“N-no.”

“I didn’t think so.” Steve glares down at your father who seems surprised that this isn’t going his way. “What are you doing here Earl of Hydra?”

“I was only retrieving my daughter, since you’ve decided to wed another I will not have this whore remain in your castle.” You see Steve tense and you grab his arm. He doesn’t move from your grasp but he doesn’t relax either.

“You assume that all men are like you. I made an oath before God that I would love and protect my wife until the day we die. I mean to uphold that oath. I don’t like that you waited until she was alone to try and pull this shit again. I know what you are Alexander and should you return to Brooklyn I will not hesitate to defend my wife with my sword. Am I understood?”

“You dare speak to me like that?” Your father sneers, “I am the father of a princess!”

“Yes, Prince Lincoln and I have spoken about you. He is as unimpressed as I am.” Steve says coolly.

“How dare you.” Your father hisses and Steve laughs humorlessly.

“Do you forget your place Earl of Hydra? Now, you will apologize to the Duchess, bow and leave before I change my mind. And next time the desire to keep violence from my wife will not stop me from removing your head from your body with my sword. Am I understood?” His voice is cold as is the stare he levels your father with.

“I apologize your Grace.” Your father says with a stiff bow, “Hammer!” The two men leave and once the door is closed Steve turns to you.

“Are you alright?”

Tag list:

@andahugaroundtheneck @connie326 @also-fangirlinsweden @lumar014 @loving-life-my-way @pagina16ps @emdying @dumblani @valsworldofcreativity @dancer3205

[mooshs-crack-headcanons]

Hi moosh! Could I have sfw letters APW for dante, vergil, nero, and V? Thank you!

So this is my first piece for devil may cry, I hope it turned out well I'm still ify on it, especially with V's and a part of Vergil but I hope you guys like it anyway!

Dante 

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Dante is a pretty chill guy, but he really doesn’t get out that much besides to go do a job, out to get drinks and to gamble (losing most of his last payment from Morrison in the process and getting absolutely screamed at by both you and Lady) at the local bar, and to get a Strawberry Sundae at Fredi’s, most of these activities he loves for you to tag along with him (some partially to make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble *cough cough* like losing most of his fucking money *cough*) especially hunting if you can hold yourself in a fight, he gets a kick out of watching you kick demon ass and finds it really hot so expect a lot of flirty banter that’s filled with terrible puns and other dorky eye rolling one liners. This lovable fucking dork.

However most of your time spent together is in the office, which you can find the two of you laying on the couch watching the old busted television watching old movies or listening to the old busted jukebox that has been playing the same sixteen songs for the last thirty years (Dante stop abusing your shit) or just telling each other shitty stories the both of you have heard from one another countless of times, but somehow when he tells it again it somehow feels just as enjoyable as the first with somehow a different twist to it and when you tell it he always that charismatic talent that Dante just has this big heart throbbing grin on his face as he listens and it just makes your words sometimes stop that even he has to tell you to keep going, or just cooking together (and by together, I mean you doing 99% of the work because this man is forever banned anywhere near a oven anymore) because yeah sure pizzas 24/7 is fun and all but if there’s one thing (besides watching you kick demon ass) that he loves to watch you do it’s cooking and not only does he get to watch you excitedly dash from one part of the kitchen looking for ingredients and get a little messy along the way, he also gets something to eat out of it too in the end. 

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Embarrassment to show his absolute adoration for you in public? No way! Dante is all about that PDA, unless you’re uncomfortable with it then he’ll respectfully lay off...but sometimes he finds it really hard when you’re just super cute when talking to the crew about a job, it's just something about that look of thrill in your eye that always grabs his attention. But if you’re down with it, let the lap sitting, quick heated kisses, bad suggestive pick up lines, and questionable touches commence! 

Dante is the number one choice for a feel better boost, if you’re feeling unsure and doubtful of your abilities be prepared to see this man recite everything fucking cool, smart, and badass thing he’s ever seen you do, so it’s a given Dante absolutely loves bragging about you to people. As he’s sharing tales of your badassery, there’s a glint of pure love in his eyes as he looks back to you and watches as your doubts begin to slowly fade away to the back of your mind, and of course if this is a recurring issue you might find even the rest of giving you compliments from time to time, even from Vergil (which almost gave you a heart attack from the shock hearing that from the eldest son of Sparda) 

Kisses from Dante are never shy, when he wants to show affection to you he’s never shy about it. Kisses from him are always the type that shoots butterflies to your stomach and makes you feel dizzy afterwards, his favorite to pull over you are when you’re in the middle of working on paperwork (his fucking bills) and surprising you with them because always without fail you get drag away from your work and go to cuddle on the couch, bills to be forgotten (and he wonders why his electric shuts off all the time) The crew immediately learns quickly that Dante really doesn’t have any shame, but reactions vary when they stumble upon it with Trish and Morrison are the two not to really give a shit to be bothered by it, Lady, Vergil, and Nero just roll their eyes at it before going back to do their own thing, Nico lets the: “get a room love birds” and other types of teasing lines and whistles fly every chance she gets, Lucia either embarrassed and covering her eyes or scolding the both of you for being that ‘personal’ out in the open like that, and Patty asks really uncomfortable questions. Dante for the most part gets a kick out of all of it!

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

I think it's very clear that he mimics actions he sees in movies (just look at how he fucking uses Cerberus for example) and so lots of what he does romantically is stuff he's seen in romance films he remembers watching with his mother and brother when he was younger or films that when he really has nothing better to do and Patty brings (all with titles he can never pronounce) to the office on a lazy afternoon and that's the reason why his view of romance is so cliche. When asked jokingly about it, he'll give a shrug and answer with the fact that the love between his parents, forbidden lovers, is a cliche trope itself and from the very few memories he has of his mother and father together he definitely remembers how sappy they were together, so sappy that it might've carried over into their kids (Vergil you don't escape this, just you wait) 

 So that being said, with the heart shaped chocolates, the roses to start every date with, several dates under candle light on the roof of the shop under a full moon, no matter how cliche it may be the confident wide eye grin on his face during them will never fail to make your heart skip a beat. 

Vergil 

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Vergil of course really likes to take every opportunity to train whenever he can so that he can be sure he's able protect those he cares for, so he really likes when you take the time to spare with him so not only he can stay in top shape for whatever danger that may come in the future but also so that you can do the same that he doesn't feel like it's all up to him to protect you when he is assured you can protect yourself, this keeps his mind from wandering to dark power lusting places.

On free days that there's no jobs in sight and there's not a focus on training, Vergil of course likes to read in his book. Flipping through the pages of his old precious childhood possession he feels himself at ease and even more so if the two of you are laid up together in bed in the privacy of your shared room, your head laid softly on his chest with his hand in your hair subconsciously combing through it as he reads Blake's words aloud to you in a quiet voice as if the words were only meant for you to hear.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Listen, all the Sparda men are romantic in their own way to the core, I like to think it’s in their genes and this is Vergil we’re talking about, this man is an absolute traditional romantic with absolutely no PDA. I mean come on, again this is Vergil we're talking about this is to be expected the son of Sparda prefers to keep his romantic life absolutely private between the two of you. To be honest it takes only the closest people in the two of your lives to realize that the two of you are even together, so basically only those who are at Devil May Cry frequently. The tale tell is that out of everyone you end up being on the end of Vergil's...Vergilness the least bit, sure there are moments but at least you haven't been stabbed by Yamato or had any summoned swords shot at you like everyone in the office has been at least once (although this also applies to Kyrie but I see her never really doing anything that would really bother him) and he also gives to rare non sarcastic compliments, which blows Dante's mind every time it occurs. 

Vergil doesn't brag about you, he compliments, and true hearted compliments from Vergil are rare, but when they happen you always know he 100% means it especially if he does it in front of others. This is the only form of PDA he feels comfortable with doing, and usually they're about how you did in fights or a super rare version: that he's proud of you. 

Again Vergil believes all romantic acts should be savory in the privacy between each other, so it's obvious that he doesn't like kissing in public. However, if you were to hypothetically I don't know...give him a peck on the cheek or go even more scandalous the lips while he's at phone duty in the office while Dante and the others are around the pool table and sitting area or in Nico's van while waiting to drive off with the crew to whatever next job, his cheeks might turn into a interesting shade of pink. 

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

It takes patience to be in a relationship with Vergil, in the beginning he'll be closed off and won't share what he's thinking (but it says a lot with how much he does trust and care for you to be in a commitment with you) but as time goes on he'll slowly start to open up more and more as he lets himself accept the human in him to love you, and at this point he'll start to share things that are very close and dear to him. 

He has very fond memories of watching old black and white romance films with his mother and Dante, who only would watch them because the moment they would end he would immediately beg him to train with him, but with him falling down to hell and being corrupted since he was only nineteen to him he remembers memories of when he and Dante were kids more clearly than his brother can since to him they don't feel as they happened a long ago so he remembers watching these films from long ago in very great detail. So of course the moment he can find some of these films with the help from a hesitant Nero (still getting used to the whole dad ripping arm off thing and all) to find and order those they could find online. From the very moment he has the old tapes in his hands do they become as precious as you, Yamato, his amulet, and his book (as well as a little bit of Nero but it takes him a while to come to terms with it) so with this being something very emotionally important to him, and after very long pandering about it, he asks you to watch these films with him (he also considered asking Dante but figured since he didn't practically like the these films as children that he wouldn't want to to watch them now, absolutely no idea about the cliched dork he is now because of these types of films) The entire time you find yourself struggling to pay attention to the actual film instead you find yourself drawn to the deep nostalgic look in your lover's eyes as he's glued to the screen. For a while you're not even sure if he's actually watching the black and white picture either with how he eyes seem to be playing out scenes of the past and this is the first time you've ever seen this much emotion on his face at once. You end up holding a tight securing grip on his hand throughout the rest of the film, one normally he wouldn't hold for as long but you find his fingers subconsciously rubbing against yours from time to time. Once the nostalgic movie night ends the two of you don't say much to each other, which Vergil appreciates since how much emotional significance that it had on him and with the feeling that he's glad he got to spend it with you. 

Nero

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

He likes killing demons with you, it's in his blood. Just seeing you in action will without fail boost confidence in him and makes him want to show off for you, which ends with him getting hurt and scolded by you many times but he wouldn't have it any other way. 

Well, he really finds himself doing a lot doing jobs with Nico on the road as of late so except a lot of quality time together on jobs and in the van. When the two of you aren't out kicking demon ass expect a ton of sitting around in the van watching whatever happens to come in on Nico's very small and very shitty portable tv, this is when you learn your boyfriend has actually a lot of a surprising amount of trivia on shows that hadn't been in production in decades but are shown as frequent reruns on low quality channels that coincidently air in Fortuna's limited broadcast range. 

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

I feel like during the time around dmc 4, Nero at that point was absolutely super embarrassed with the idea of PDA, not even getting started with his insecurities about his arm, but I feel about now after his experience with dating Kyrie for a few years he gotten use to it a little bit. However that doesn't mean he won't get entirely red faced by teasing comments from Dante or Nico even if he was just looking at you for a few seconds longer than he should've.

Fuck yeah he brags about you to others. You're a badass, and he absolutely loves that. During a fight he'll gladly give you a cocky Nero way of approval by saying that even he should try and catch up before flashing you a smug ass grin before revving up Red Queen and jumping into the next hoard of demons.

Again Nero gets embarrassed easily, however unlike his father he's not totally against it but it depends on whose exactly around. For example if it's Lady or Trish, hell even Morrison he's perfectly comfortable with giving you a kiss hello/goodbye or wrapping his arms around you just for the hell of it because he knows that they're chill and won't make a big deal out of it. But if it's anyone else...he feels not so much about it. Dante and Nico tease the hell out of him for days, Patty asks very uncomfortable person questions, Lucia gets really easily flustered about it, and Vergil and Kyrie for personal reasons would just rather not prefer to do anything around them. But every time you are the one to initiate any sort of affection, he'll immediately rub/scratch at his nose with a very dumb founded flustered look on his face. 

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Nero is actually a good cook and absolutely loves cooking things for you and that is usually what happens for most dates, no matter how complicated the recipe he just seems to have a natural talent for it. So when it comes not only dates but to holidays as well, it's really funny to see the youngest relative of Sparda cooking away to serve the rest of the company on Christmas day when everyone knows damn well that neither his father or uncle has any clue how to work a kitchen and this is a fact that he holds proudly over his head. 

V 

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

Well being Vergil's human half, I still say most things still somewhat apply to him but a little bit differently. V's not really the best partner to spar with for starters (the most I see him doing is letting you train with his familiars) but I feel that he still completely understands the reason why Vergil would desperately want that, but he has a little bit more in himself to have faith in you to know you can more than able to handle yourself with your abilities. 

Like with Vergil, V absolutely loves to read with you. It puts a nice warm feeling in his chest when the two of you are alone and with you in his arms as he reads to you as you both sit against Shadow and Griffon nesting nicely in your lap, all together like a nice small family. 

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

V, unlike Vergil, is torn between PDA. Like Vergil, he really does appreciate the privacy of time spent together behind closed doors but also he really does like the feeling of people seeing the two of you together as a couple, it brings out a heavy sense of pride and stroking his ego. 

V doesn't feel need to brag, he's proud of you and if you're with him you should know that by now, but if you're in need of some encouragement he always knows what right thing he's proud of you to pick you tight back up again. 

Kisses from V are never shy, will he do it often in front of others? Occasionally, but never frequent. When he does though they're always sudden and full of spark, you swear his lips are like an instant kill switch to your brain because once you realize that he's kissed you it's already hit you and most of the time you hear whistles and teases from Griffon (and sometimes Nico if she's around) that bring you back earth to (Name). 

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Vergil's nightmares plague him a lot, I mean he's literally contracted to them. So expect a lot of countless of nights of him waking up in cold sweat and doing his best to keep his sobs down as the image of Nelo Angelo is burnt into his mind. He would rather not talk about it, but he really does appreciate feeling you holding him through the after shocks. Tracing his tattoos or gently combing your fingers through his hair will slowly calm him down enough to at least lay back down with you and hesitantly fall back asleep knowing you're there to fight off the plagues of his mind at a moments notice.

[athys-obelia]

summary: no one's evil au lmfaooo but make it pt. 2

character/s: anastacius de alger obelia, claude de alger obelia, athanasia de alger obelia, jennette de alger obelia

and here's part 1 <3

oh my god okay. okay. so.

ana, claude, athy and jennette - they go on a LOT of vacations

claude complains every single time but anastacius pulls his trump card and sends athy and jettie BOTH after him

u think he's strong enough to say no after that? lmao jokes

and their vacations always go this way:

jennette: isn't this scenery just gorgeous, uncle

claude: indeed it is. and...quiet

jennette: ...too quiet

[cut to anastacius in the distance, fighting a bear as athy cheers him on]

athy + anastacius, hands down the most chaotic pairing yes i will not be taking criticism

they have tea in ana's palace everyday, just the two of them, they're so poised and picture perfect through the entire thing everyone thinks it's just the emperor giving profound advice to his heir

it's actually them deadass scheming,,, ana has no qualms discussing everything from court gossip to military tactics, both of which she's so on top of all the time

if anyone shit talks jennette or claude, this tea party is where their slow and agonizing demise is planned out to the dot

[true story - count sivan once made the fatal mistake of expressing his favour for athy as the next empress, dissing jennette by comparing her to athy sm which inevitably sparked a debate that ranked the princesses. a week after athy's sources informed her of the kindling behind this new debate, the count's sudden divorce became the talk of the town, and the man's business faced bankruptcy all of a sudden. the sivans still haven't recovered.)

athy n jennette were actually allowed to visit kiel in arlanta a few times, except it was too dark at their first arrival, postponing the meeting to the next morning

buttt then jettie can't sleep and she decides on a midnight snack run (their hotel doesn't really have the maids the palace does, but oh well. she's left the palace w lucas n athy plenty of times)

felix tags along btw, he knows this trip is important to the girls since they're leaving the palace without their Overprotective Papas™ for the first time and want some sense of independence, but... she's just so smol n he couldn't bear it if anything happens so he just shadows her

she totally knows he's there

n e ways so there's a juice place right beside their hotel which she aims for, but when jennette reaches it, it's closed

and out of nowhere, a voice addresses her - "hey you, do you come here a lot?" she nearly jumps out of her skin at the brunette, relaxing when she sees he's literally a kid around her age and not a murderer lmfaoo "me neither," he continues without waiting for her, pouting at the closed sign, before he asks for her name and whether she's new in arlanta

she confirms that yes, she's only visiting, and refuses to tell the stranger her name, still feeling strange at being addressed as 'you' for the first time (well, minus lucas, but he was like her brother and had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon, so)

he eyes her. "you're so weird. i've never seen a girl out so late before, and alone too. are you stupid?"

(felix has his sword out at this point)

she's flushing now and has no idea why she's still out here, but then this stranger kid apparently senses her mood and tells her the best ice cream store in arlanta is not too far away

(he also explains he knows someone who's starts doing weird things when she's hungry as well, and tries to defend that ice cream is actually a healthy midnight snack, "you can just take a healthy flavour like strawberry or mango, mangos are healthy,,right"💀️💀)

so jettie has travelled all the way from obelia, she loves her papa but he would have a heart attack if he found out she was ever awake this late?? yeah bc she's never getting this chance again, jennette accepts the offer

the stranger boy seems to be taking the whole "i'm not telling you my name," thing like a joke, and asks what he should call her since 'you' was getting boring

she goes with "lady j" and like a knight, the boy becomes "sir c"

(felix is on the verge of committing a crime - the princesses can only have one knight, after all)

they walk as the the boy navigates the streets in the dark, and she asks whether he's from the academy, seeing his uniform

"of course i am! you could probably tell bc i look so smart, right?"

she snorts. "yeah, that."

she also comes to know that this guy,,,well he might as well be a tourist? she's out here asking stuff like "oh where's the statue of lady alphia?" or "aren't we really close to the museum where they keep the first emperor's sword?" and he goes "lady do i look like your brochure?? but if you turn right from here there's a cool arcade and across the street from there is the best street food vendor you'll ever eat from."

well at least mans had his priorities straight 😌

"so can you take this off?" he asks, pointing towards her dress once they've neared the store

um???????? sir tf????????????

anyways jettie has been living with lucas n her dad farr too long to not take this the wrong way?? "...no?"

the boy raises an eyebrow "look, it looks like an expensive cloak but i promise i'll return it, alright? i gotta hide my uniform."

ohhhhhhh. 😳.

so she unfastens the cloak and because he's kinda just staring at it cluelessly (he can't even tie his shoelaces fight me), jennette sighs and moves the clothing over his shoulder, fastening it in place at his neck

he's literally a tomato when she looks back up and realises that yes, we are way too close rn

bc she's ana's daughter, jennette by default cannot function when she's flustered. so she kinda stumbles backwards like a fish out of water (years of princess training n etiquette? where art thou??) and 'sir c' has to grab her forearm so she doesn't bump into the pillar behind her smfh

the shopkeep is definitely suspicious of this pair that's definitely too young to be out so late, but chalks it down to his sleeplessness

they escape the store with the ice cream before the shopkeep can ask any questions, and 'sir c' escorts jennette back to her hotel. he climbs onto the roof of the building, helping her up as well

(felix wishes he had a magic stone to capture this moment, this is the first time he's seen jennette become such fast friends with someone)

she stands on the roof (it hurts her butt so she doesn't wanna sit)

"my sister would be so jealous right now," jennette murmurs, "she told me her ideal first date would be either a picnic or something like a moonlit walk. we're having like a moonlit picnic."

it's silent for a few seconds the boy speaks up, "is this a date?"

oh-

oh.

"i mean- i didn't- i don't- uh."

give her some time lmfao she's loading

"i don't really mind that," he tells her, and she thinks she might just walk off the roof in her embarrassment - who just says something like that?? "you're probably feeling really lucky right now, right?"

jennette: ✊😔

he does look pretty in the moonlight, she admits to herself, listening as he excitedly tells her about his siblings at home and how she should send an offering to the gods since they gave her the good fortune to be on a date with the most good looking one of all four of them

in turn, she tells him about how she spent her childhood away from her amazing dad and had gotten closer to him recently, about her sharp-witted uncle, her sister and friends

(the 'friends' section includes felix and he's melting)

she smiles - it's almost as if, at finding out he treasures his family just as much as she does, they've gotten a bit closer

and he tries to listen. jennette had guessed that his temperament was somewhat like her dad's - her dad didn't know how to listen, always making his opinion known before anything else, though she supposes as emperor he could do that

'sir c', on the other hand, tried his best, his blue eyes focused on her as he almost burst from the unsaid words he was holding back, trying to let her finish. the sight was an odd mix of sad and insanely adorable that she couldn't help but let him tell her about everything he couldn't hold in

sensing she could pass out from her exhaustion nearly half an hour later, and 'sir c' escorts her to her window and helps her sneak in bc "what sort of knight would i be otherwise?!"

(felix can't stop shaking the entire night)

the next morning, jennette's heart is pounding as kiel shows her, athy and felix across campus - the chance is low, but still...

"ezekiel!" comes a voice, and the four watch as a turquoise haired boy waves down the alpheus heir "are these the guests you mentioned?"

kiel introduces the trio to johannes vastia before asking, "where's cabel?"

"at the training grounds, he asked if you could bring everyone there so he could show them around there."

"... they're my guests though?"

athy is quick to befriend johannes (i mean she and his sister are practically the same person, so) and at the grounds, jennette's blood runs cold

(so does felix's)

the brunette doesn't notice her at first, arguing with johannes about something as kiel introduces him as cabel ernst

jennette is hyperventilating?? actually back up is this girl even breathing??

cabel ernst from kiel's letters? the 'loud and obnoxious cabel ernst', who gradually turned into 'my acquaintance cabel ernst', then 'hardworking, passionate cabel ernst', and finally 'my friend cabel'?

she'd actually rather admired this slow build of respect between her friend and the ernst boy, and had even expressed her interest to meet him

"this is the first daughter of his highness prince claude de alger obelia, princess athanasia-" cabel mock salutes the princess before his mouth forms an 'o' and he remembers to bow, "-and here's the emperor's only daughter, her highness princess je-"

andddd his eyes widen comically "-hey, lady, it's you?"

yeah jettie is on the brink of literal death - her entire face reddens as this...cabel, grins at her

she watches as he glances behind her, "and you're the guy who was following us - sup?"

felix flinches "...you knew...?"

cabel shrugs. "i mean you do kinda suck ass at the whole subtle thing."

"don't say it like that," jennette retorts, "felix was trying his best."

"princess 😭😭 you knew as well?"

"uhhhh no?"

athy + kiel in a corner: 👁️👄👁️

they watch as cabel's eyes widen all of a sudden and he just,,,runs away

...🐦...🐦...🐦...

yeah well anyway he comes rushing back a few minutes later, a piece of cloth in his hand "...*huff* here *huff*...you go."

athy totally flips out "jennette is that your CLOAK???!??"

"uhhhhh no?"

"um do you realise uncle would literally wage war at this."

and as if it would make everything better,

"i washed it," cabel offers with a grin

"you didn't," the vastia heir deadpans

"i mean, johan helped a little bit."

kiel smiles murderously at the pair. "johan, did you know cabel took the princess out?"

"wait, you're a PRINCESS??"

your honour they aren't very smart

so the group orders some coffee (milk for cabel smfh) to find out what happened, cabel mentions "date" and everything goes to shit again lmfao

kiel and felix scheme against poor cabel while athy n johan get over that stage pretty quick ("listen. MY sister will be living with ME after the marriage and if your friend wants to be with her he'll have to come with us to obelia." and johan's just like "fine by me ✌️😊") and start planning the wedding

cabel + jennette dip n sneak out of the academy again to get the juice they couldn't the night before bc shit is getting awkward here

on another note, our uncle cius' musical intelligence is actually very high - he can probably play more instruments than i can name tbh, but he feels most comfortable singing and i shit you not, this man has straight up an angel's voice

(didn't like singing in front of others coz he was secretly a nerd and only knew old love songs with deep lyrics, athy found out and educated him)

jennette tends to have nightmares often, most often regarding their family - she's seen her father murder her uncle for the throne, and vice versa, athy admitting her affections towards jennette were a front to get the position of crown princess, her uncle killing her to solidify athy's claim, etc - her family is her everything, so despite however many times these horrible scenes play before her, she's left sobbing uncontrollably

and on these nights, she leaves for her father's room, who holds her close and sings her to sleep

also lucas n jennette are like sibling duo# 1,,, jettie is an active lucathy shipper even though he denies it sm - like their dynamic is just peaceful walks in the gardens as she watches the plants n lucas shi talks the nobility and kiel

claude and athy have a thing for each other's sleeping on each other? idk it's weird

athy once fell asleep on the couch while reading with him, and claude moved her head onto his lap so she wouldn't be uncomfy sitting - well, she woke up to his hand absentmindedly raking through her hair and it was just so soothing that whenever she's tired and he's working or reading, she just plops her head on his lap and zzzz

and claude wondered what was up with that, so she proposed they switch roles and he felt so awkward trying to lay down in front of her lmao

obviously athy noticed and she just started reading, thinking he might be more comfortable if her attention isn't on him completely - she ended up reading out loud while playing with his collar and he just,,,passed out

also anastacius has definitely pulled jennette aside regarding the issue of his heir at some point - she had been hesitant at first before admitting she wouldn't like to be the empress at all

i know we'd all love to see empress!jettie and her sister duchess!athy ruling the court, but i really really really can't see her wanting the title?

so thus start athy's empress lessons, but holy shit her teacher is mean

like this man makes me want to bash his face in?? so he doesn't like the idea of athy becoming empress over jennette at all, all bc of both hers and claude's mothers being commoners

he has one of those long ass sticks that you use in presentation to point at stuff?? idk but basically mans has athy name every region, its lords and their vassals during their first lesson

the first time she gets one wrong, she's too shocked as the stick meets the delicate skin of her forearm to react

now the thing is, wmmap!athy would probably stand up against this bc her dad is the emperor and she's his only heir, but i imagine with anastacius' social nature he holds many parties / balls where she's probably heard claude's mom + diana slander and it wouldn't be unreasonable for her to be self conscious abt it (now she's the emperor's heir while jennette, 100% royal + noble blood, is right there which probably makes her feel even less legitimate)

so she endures it, the light marks on her arms as well as the taunts of his she's too smart to not understand - perhaps this is the price to be accepted in jennette's place?

and honestly, no one really notices until at breakfast a few weeks in, where jennette mentions how her dresses are still so modest when sleeveless dresses were more in fashion - ana is suspicious because athy is always on top of these things, societal trends and such, and claude is sus from the way she hesitates slightly in her answer, "i haven't had the time lately, i suppose"

the lesson after focuses on ettiquete since everyone knows she's good at politics and such already, but now tears of frustration are pooling in her eyes because what the hell?? this guy had made an opinion of her long before he even met her, so anything she did would be wrong in his eyes

he gives her a sinister smile, "tired, princess?"

"no," she insists, keeping her voice level. he's about to spout some other nonsense, when anastacius enters the room, taking a seat across from her

anastacius watches quietly as athy answers the teacher's questions in her "public" voice. he watches as her usually cheery disposition is replaced by something far more...dead, despite the front she puts on for him. he's soundless as she hesitates in her answers where she normally would've been louder, more confident. he stops watching in silence when his niece flinches at the sight of the stick

oh.

he interrupts her lesson, not missing the way she winces almost imperceptibly when he grabs ahold of her arm, announcing, "we're going."

he just- it's just that that was the moment he knew for sure - the sight of his niece emotionally disheveled for the first time reminds him too much of how his own brother had once been, and he'd... he'd promised he wouldn't let anyone hurt his family anymore

he ends up taking her to the port with some of his advisors to welcome some royal guests, insisting that she would learn better from experience rather than books - but the guest delegation gets so boring that he sneaks her out of the meeting n they end up in the streets

now athy has no idea where they are, but apparently her uncle does?? ana has his hand on her head as he navigates the streets of the capitol as if he comes here everyday, using magic to casually disguise the two of them

in the meantime?

felix is at the port trying to cover for them smfh, he makes up this huge story about how the great wise emperor wanted to familiarize his heir with the locals, understand her subjects, yada yada

back at the palace prince claude is currently dragging a man by his collar and only upon jennette's insistence does he throw him in prison rather than literally kill him

(jettie visits him later in prison to give the guy a piece of her mind, after felix's visit he's sporting a few noticable bruises and the prisoner is practically unrecognizable once lucas visits)

back to athy + ana, they end up stuffing themselves with some super good street food as anastacius confesses that yes, he has definitely been sneaking out of the palace ever since he was a lil kid

athy almost mentions that she, lucas n jettie sneak out too but that might give him a heart attack, so

"it's so pretty, uncle cius," she says, gesturing towards the necklace he holds up. once he's paid for it, anastacius fists the necklace, opening it to reveal the jewel pendant - now imbued with his magic and replaced with gold lettering of the word athanasia

and she realises that yes, that's what both him and her dad have called her all her life, haven't they?

"you're my heir, athanasia," he uncle tells her with a small smile, "i am proud of that."

getting teary, she tells him, "i'm really proud of you too, uncle cius," triggering a very flustered + blushy anastacius

this mans craves validation - not from the sycophantic nobility, or the obsequious concubines he'd dismissed all those years ago, but from the family he thought he'd neither have nor deserve

and just the acknowledgement is so large for athy - he wants her as his heir, not because she's his niece, but bc he trusts her to look after his hard work after him??? - yeah she's totally bawling her eyes out

anastacius magics her a handkerchief but my mans magic isn't that strong?? lmao he's used up so much by now that the 'handkerchief' turns out to be some scratchy tissues

awkward amirite

nope! athy laughs at that, offering him a sip of her drink as she magics another straw and a proper handkerchief lmfaoo

n e ways so when they return, everyone's shocked to learn that the crown heir, princess athanasia will actually be joining the official circles as anastacius' temporary aid - he doesn't wanna entrust her to anyone but family, and decides that the best way to learn is by his side

(she's so confused bc lucas doesn't normally bat an eyelash when she wears the prettiest gowns, but he deadass can't look her in the eyes when she's in her aid uniform - it's more like a suit than it is a dress)

yes lucas women in suits >>>>>

everyone is STUNNED when at dinner, claude proposes they leave on vacation??

anastacius is just not having it?? like no, this is not my brother, and he throws a grape at claude to check if it's a clone or sum (¿¿how does that work??)

anyays so he ain't no felix, ana's aim is ass and it hits jettie instead

mans nearly gets on his knees to apologise

long story short everyone preps for vacation, but by some aCCiDeNt claude n athy end up at a different destination than jettie n ana, when she suggests returning to the palace to regroup, mans deadass sulks

"so you wouldn't like to spend this time with your father, despite barely visiting my office for weeks?"

o-oh

so at their return, the nobility starts pestering everyone that the princesses aren't independent enough, yada yada idc so to quell this annoyance, to the girls' joy, they get to move into emerald palace together, while claude and ana stay in the ruby and main palaces respectively

literally emerald palace becomes such a cool place to be in since it's the residence of the only decent people in this family, the brothers spend hours going through the requests of maids who want to be transferred

it's such a busy time because of athy joining the court and jettie starting her studies as well - naturally, since she isn't becoming empress, she'll be getting the duchy claude + athy were to be given in the beginning

speaking of futures, jettie's interest in plants and cooking has definitely branched out into herbs

claude notices her tending to a small garden during his visit to athy and even gives her a few tips (he had been studying medical since he was a kid, and picked it up again when athy was born and the empire stablised somewhat)

this soon becomes a routinely thing, and he actually starts reading up on some herbs and even orders a few for her prospering garden

after a month of her learning from books, claude proposes adding a medic as one of her teachers, and turns out his hunch was right?? she's excelling at medicine and they keep it between themselves for the time being

it doesn't last long though, bc they're on a hunting trip when ana injures his leg

and !! this girl istg, she gets to cleaning and wrapping the wound without blinking an eye, as if it's the most natural thing ever, and claude is just smirking while athy and anastacius and literally everyone else: 🌟💞✨jettie✨💞🌟

literal tears coming out of anastacius' eyes "how come my daughter is smarter than me😭💅"

claude: that's not a very high standard, brother

anastacius: ✨suddenly i'm an only child✨

behold, the people in charge of running an empire everyone 👏👏👏

even though jennette is claude's (unofficial) student and athy is her uncle's heir, they both ask their dads to the debutante

yes athy does dance with lucas, anastacius sent him an invitation even though he wasn't a noble (he's an active match maker 😌) and nobody dared question the emperor's special guest

at the end of the night, kiel gives jettie a letter from arlanta - it's an invitation to the academy during holidays, from a certain brunette

when she brings up the subject, felix lets out a squeak and literally everyone goes silent 😭😭

athy n kiel are just out here DARING him to spill them beans

but anastacius takes on look at his excited lil kid and decides that yups, she's going to get everything she wants

a/n: i literally don't know how many parts this should have lmaoo but y'all made it this far!! thanks for reading i hope you liked it<3

[nephyscorner]

Hiiii my lovely baby! I just saw your request are open so I'm just stepping in! Could I please request a little scenario in which Zoro has a pretty strong argument with his S/o who used to be a Marine soldier and she leaves the ship and ends up getting hurt by one of her ex-comrades? And how would he react to that? 😊

( hope not to be too exhaustive baby! And hope that you like it! ) 😊

OMG my first request, thank you so much sweetheart ♥

As soon as I read it, the image appeared in my head, I hope you like it !!

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You could feel the tears gathering in your eyes, but you weren't going to cry, not today.

It started as a quiet discussion, more like an exchange of words, but you didn't know if due to the stress of the fights in recent days or why, step by step the conversation became more intense, until both exchanged words that surely the day in the morning you would regret saying them.

You were with your boyfriend in the boys' room. Zoro looked away with a frown and you just gaped at him fighting not to cry.

- You're fucking bastard.- Your words came out as a growl from your throat, and then, you simply slammed out of the room. Zoro didn't hesitate to go behind you and stop you firmly grasping your arm

- Where do you think you are going? -His voice was calm but with a certain tinge of concern

- Away from you, from this damned ship, from everything.- You freed of his grip with a precise movement and went on deck.

- (Y / N) -Swaaan ~ -The cook cheerfully approached you but you stopped him suddenly

- No, not today. - Your angry face made his blood run cold. He wanted to ask you what had happened, but before he could react, you had already left the ship. He rushed in ready to confront Zoro. As soon as he found it, he immobilized him by holding one leg to his chest, pressing him against a wall.

- What the hell did you do to (Y / N)?

- What does it matter to you?

- She left the ship almost crying idiot! How are you going to do that to a beautiful lady?

- Whatever happens between us is none of your business ... now remove your leg before I cut it - With a swift movement he pulled out of his grip now pinning Sanji between one of his swords and the wall.

- You idiot! You know well there's a marine base here. They put a high price on her head and gave the order to kill if someone meets her.

- What makes you think I don't know, idiot? She's a very strong woman, that can defend herself. She isn't a crystal rose like you think they all are.

The argument would surely have continued for a long time, if Nami not come to hit both the head and bring them out of their idiocy.

- Calm down for a while. You -she said while pointing to Sanji- stop getting into other people's relationships, it's their problem and something they should fix, don't be intrusive. And you - turns to see Zoro - How can you leave your girlfriend as easy prey for the marine?, they have hundreds of soldiers! Go find her before something serious happens

Zoro was about to argue but he knew she was right. So he just turned to leave the boat, not saying a word or turning to see his nakama.

-------------------- Meanwhile --------------------

You had fled the ship and made sure you were alone before allowing your tears to shed. You leaned against a tree and hugged your knees while hiding your face in the crook of your arms. You aren't sure how long it has been since you stayed like this, but suddenly you heard a familiar voice.

- (Y / N), are you? - You raised your face and there was Colt, your old friend from the childhood and marine.

Both had grown up together, trained together, and luckily, you entered the marine together. You were inseparable. But as time passed, a need for freedom grew in your womb, for liberation. You disagreed on many of their policies. Colt felt it too, but unlike you, he was always a little scared. So when you met the Straw Hat Pirates, he understood your decision to drop everything and go with them. He even helped you escape, although that betrayal remorse haunted him all these years.

-If she isn't with us, she will be against us. And as such, we must end it without hesitation as soon as we see her. From today, she is considered a marine's enemy - The words of his superior echoed every day in his head.

- Colt, look how much you've grown! - A smile was drawn on your face when you saw your friend. You quickly dried your tears and hugged him tight. Unfortunately, you weren't reciprocated, so you slowly walked away and looked at him a little concerned - Is everything okay?

- I'm sorry (Y/N) - After his words you found him pointing a gun at you, with a bit shaky hand

- Uh ... C ... Colt, what is this? - You looked at him with wide eyes in disbelief

- Sorry, marine's instruction, if you aren't with us, you are one of them, so we must kill you

- ARE YOU CRAZY? It's ... It's me, (Y/N), how can you do this to me? INSTRUCTION? Did you get brainwashed? And the freedom you craved so much? You don't have to do it if you don't want to, you own your life, they can't tell you what to do. YOU ARE FREE TO CHOOSE.

- Sorry, it's my duty - he triggered the weapon against you, generating a deafening noise. You fell slumped to the ground, but thanks to his shaking hand, instead of hitting your chest, the bullet pierced a few inches higher. Colt had come up to finish you off, but when he aimed the gun again, this time at your head, a sharp blade appeared and cut off his hand, causing it and the gun to fall to the ground. Colt backed away howling in pain and when he looked up, he saw Zoro, preparing to use his Santoryu

- How dare you? -He growls placing the third sword in his mouth and pouncing on him ready to kill.

All the noise had attracted the attention of the rest of the soldiers, so didn't take long to surround the area. Zoro stood right in front of you to defend you from anyone who tried to take the opportunity to kill you, and the last thing you could see and hear before you passed out was how the soldiers tried to deal with Zoro, as he sent them flying through the air. one by one.

When you opened your eyes you were back at Going Merry, Chopper was finishing bandaging your wound, while Zoro was leaning against a wall further back.

- (Y / N)! (Y / N) You're okay !! I thought you wouldn't wake up, you lost a lot of blood and I was very scared !! -The little reindeer screamed while he tightly secured your bandages. - With this you should feel better in a while, but you're very weak, so please rest, I will tell Sanji to cook something for you to give you energy - You smiled and thanked him, to then see him leave the room.

You turned to see your boyfriend that just then, he turned his face to see you.

- Suppose I should thank you - you muttered as he approached the bed.

- Don't ever do something so stupid- He started by saying some angry, but then he sighed and put a hand on the back of his neck.

- I ... I'm so...- Before you could finish the sentence, you could feel how his lips were pressed against yours. A soft and loving kiss that you responded to with the same dedication. After a few moments he separates and rests his forehead against yours

- I was very worried, if I had been a second later... I'd never have forgiven myself. From now, let's solve things by talking, please...

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@mer92 I hope you liked it sweetheart, and thank you very much for being my first request 💕

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▲Tag list is open, just ask ▲

[ffangirlingsince2001]

Havandra

anonymous asked:

Hi! Can i request something where geralt meets another girl and starts ignoring/neglecting y/n and both of them being rude to her and rly angsty w a fluff ending if you can!! Thank you so much!!

A/N: Hello, I don’t know who you are but thank you for your request, it was fun to write. I hope you enjoy 

Geralt x Reader

Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, murder, fighting

There was something about fine ladies with intricate dresses and long lashes that seemed to enchant the unenchantable.

Especially your Witcher.

They were his weakness, and it didn’t matter what they were. Human, mages, monsters, it was all the same.

Knowing this you shouldn’t have been surprised how immediately he trailed off as his eyes followed her down the hallway. She deserved it, every glance that was sent her way. Her entire existence screamed ‘Admire Me!’ Her dress glittered like the ocean at midnight and her hair was a sheet of shining obsidian, swaying with every step, taunting you as she approached. Big blue eyes, full lips, high cheekbones were straight out of a painting that hung in lonely king’s courts. It was clear someone had sculpted her, had dragged magic through her skin until she lacked impurity.

It’s not that you weren’t pretty, for a hunter. Spattered freckles, scars, and comfort had nothing on fair skin, magic, and mystery.

You shouldn’t have been surprised, and you should have found yourself a new traveling companion, at least until she was gone. You didn’t, of course, because you were an idiot, and unrequited love made you an idiotic doormat.

“I’m Havandra,” she purred, brushing you out of the way with almost no effort at all. Placing a hand on your Witcher’s shoulder, fingers twirling into the fabric of his collar. “The resident mage. He nodded gruffly, Adam’s apple tight in his throat and you rolled your eyes.

“Geralt-,”

“of Rivia, yes I know. I heard you were wandering our halls. I was hoping I would bump into you.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Geralt, we need to speak to the king,�� you reminded him, catching the attention of Havandra.

“And you are?” she asked, turning and planting herself between you and Geralt.

“His partner.”

“That’s so cute. Tell me, partner in what capacity?”

“I don’t think I know what you mean.”

“Well, you clearly not together in the sense of lovers. So if you’re not pleasuring him, why on earth does he keep a plain thing like you around.” You glanced over your shoulder at Geralt, who seemed to not hear anything she said.

“She’s a hunter,” he informed her, and you struggled to breathe.

“Oh, so you won’t mind if we get drinks?”

“We have to talk to the king,” you reminded but he was already gone, intertwined with the beautiful Havandra. As they strolled away, she glanced over his should and sent you a sharp smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ll return him mostly unharmed.”

You could scream, you wanted to more than anything, but you settled for unsheathing your sword and slamming it into the stone walls.

“Fuck,” you screamed, hands aching from the reverberation. He just left, with her, not even bothering to defend you. You weren’t fucking plain! And you were going to let her have it, she was evil, something was wrong.

No.

This was envy, it had planted itself in your heart and begun to grow. She wasn’t evil, just beautiful. Anyhow, you have no right to be jealous. He’s not yours, he’s never been yours. You told yourself friendship was fine time and time again. Every time you had to make yourself scarce because some girl had managed to enchant him for the night it stung but you knew it was for the best. And even this time, though you hated every inch of her, it was no different than anytime before.

Except this time, he hadn’t defended you. Every time before, the moment his conquest came after you, she was done. He told her to fuck off and grunted that it was time to go, but not this time. You had been sure he hadn’t heard her, but then he as if it was nothing he demoted you from friend to some hunter who had decided to tag along with the great and mighty Geralt of Rivia.

It’s fine, you told yourself deciding whether you should still go the king or postpone it until you had the man he had really called for at your side. If the rumors were true, this king had no problem killing those who failed to bring him what he requested, and you were sure this was one of those cases.

Instead, you took a walk, searching for a way to blow off some steam. Though you weren’t angry enough to leave the man, you definitely wanted nothing more than to punch that dopey look right off his face.

A deer darted in front of you as you stepped awkwardly and snapped a loose branch. You had your bow out in an instant and your arrow knocked, following the creature as closely as you could, inching forward ever so slowly. It didn’t stop until it was for out of sight, bushes blocking your view, but stepping onto a boulder gave you just enough high ground to see its ears poking out from the brush.

A second passed and then it was dead, your arrow lodged cleanly in its neck. Sighing, you threw it over your shoulder and made your way to town. Once there you sold the deer for a pretty penny and headed towards your room. The pub was crowded, men and women filling every crevice. They sang and danced and smiled, something you wanted no part of in your state of mind. You just wanted to lay down and sleep.

And wait for Geralt to get bored.

You fumbled with the key and finally pushed it open with a satisfying click, only the reveal Geralt and Havandra naked, wrapped within one another while she rode him. Your eyes widened at the sight. The room was ten degrees hotter than the hallway, hot skin slapping against hot skin. Her head was thrown back in ecstasy, his hands wrapped around her breasts. Animalistic moans filled your ears and you squeaked an apology, scrambling to leave, but they paid you no mind. You slammed the door shut and tears rushed to your eyes.

You have no right to be jealous. He’s not yours, and tomorrow he wouldn’t be hers either. You sat down and waited for her to leave, praying it would be soon.

You fell asleep in the hallway long after the sun went down, but you could still hear them, feel the shaking of the walls. Even as you woke with the sun the next morning, you could still hear them. It had slowed down, exhaustion pulling at the two, but her high pitched whimpers still creeping beneath the door. It wasn’t until it was completely silent that you dared to open the door once again.

She was plastered against his chest, both breathing heavily within sleep. You slipped through towards your bag that lay beside the bed, rummaging for your extra pair of pants. You picked up one of your knives and moved to leave, but as you stood you met the sapphire eyes of Havandra, who smirked at you before screaming.

You jumped back, dropping your things to the floor as you covered your ears and Geralt was up in a second.

“Geralt, she had a knife. She was going to kill me,” she screamed, curling up in his arms. He glared at you and you took another step back.

“I didn’t-,”

“I’ll talk to you outside.”

“But-,”

“Go!” he barked and you scurried outside as quickly as you could, leaving all that you held behind. You punched the wall and waited with throbbing knuckles. She was trying to get rid of you, that stupid mage. You had to explain, convince him that she was lying, but with the look he had sent you, you were sure that wouldn’t be easy. “What the fuck?” he asked lowly as he stepped out from the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Geralt, I wasn’t trying to kill her, I swear,” you pleaded but he wasn’t having it.

“No, you are a jealous, spiteful bitch. She told me she could tell you’re in love with me. Is that true? Were you going to try and kill her in hopes that I would finally look at you?”

“No, Geralt I would never.”

“Are you sure, because it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve gone and scared off my company.”

“There’s something wrong with her.”

“No, there’s something wrong with you.”

“You have to believe me,” you were crying now, the feeling her smirk gave you still slipping up and down your spine.

“I don’t have to believe anything you have to say, Y/N. I should turn you in, but how about we settle for you leaving and never coming back.”

No, you couldn’t leave him. Not like this, not ever like this.

“You have an hour and then I’m going to turn you in, be long gone or face prison.” You turned and ran. It was pouring outside, the clouds that had been gathering for days, finally releasing their burden. Your tears mixed with the thick raindrops as your stumbled towards the forest, slipping through the mud and debris.

You had nowhere to go, no horse, no food, no money. You were as good as dead. You couldn’t believe he had sent you away, ears deaf to anything you had to say. All he cared about was Havandra. He had known you for three years and yet he had still chosen her, devoted even his common sense without knowing more than her name.

The trees provided little cover, and you found it harder to run as the roads began to flood. In one false step you were falling, tumbling down a hill into a muddy ravine. You tried to unstick yourself, but every time you stood you slipped again and wound up muddier than before. On hands and knees you crawled towards the slope, hoping to make it to the road before the ravine flooded and you were trapped when the torrents came rushing through.

Nails dug into mud, searching for anything of substance to hold onto, to pull yourself free. You slipped again and your mouth filled with mud. Spitting it out you continued your climb until something odd caught your attention, you pulled yourself closer and let out a gasp, tumbling back down the hill in surprise. Emerging from the quickly eroding slope was a body, the hand creeping out, and then the arm, then the torso, and finally it came washing down towards you with the rest od the debris that had been unearthed during to the torrent. You tried to scramble away, but you were hit full force with the body. You opened your eyes and found yourself staring into the sapphire eyes of the kingdom’s mage. Even caked in dirt you could tell, that the real, very dead, Havandra was laying on top of you, neck slit like a pig. You shoved her off you and realized with unimaginable dread what the monster who had been hired to hunt was.

And where it was.

Mud and rain couldn’t stop you as they had when you found no reason to fight, as now you could imagine the knife above Geralt, plunging into his chest with no remorse. It had only been you stopping it, and with you on the run the doppler would have no problem lodging a knife into the formidable Witcher, drunk on charm and sex.

No one tried to stop you as you neared the town and you prayed that he simply had been bluffing and was not yet dead. You pounded up the stairs off the inn and with an adrenaline you had never felt before slammed your body into the door, breaking anything that held it back. A shocked shapeshifter jumped back, the knife still clutched in its hand and Geralt woke up. He looked between his once beautiful Havandra and your mud doused body, the knife slipped from her hands, the twisted look on her face intensifying and you lunged. The force, though not quite as strong as when you charged the door, knocked both of you to the floor. It screamed and kicked you back. Upon contact with the wall the window shattered. You tried to clear your head as it approached.

“Fucking women, always getting in my way,” it hissed, pulling a knife from its tunic. You grabbed a piece of glass from the ground and lunged, pushing it back. Its knife caught you in the arm and you screamed, wrapping your hands around its neck but it threw you into the hallway. You darted forward, hand sliding across the dresser where the silver knife lay and dug into its heart. The screams were terrible, worse than the accusatory one it had uttered earlier. You dropped to the ground and covered your ears, not daring to remove them until all had gone silent.

You slid towards your Witcher who was slowly coming too, his angry eyes blinking into ones of confusion.

“Y/N?” he muttered, rubbing his temples, “What the fuck happened?” You explained it to him quickly, leaving out all that he had said to you in the hallway, and he just nodded and listened. “And what happened to you? I remember what I said to you.”

“It was spell, you didn’t mean it.” You avoided his gaze as you said it, the words still fresh in your heart.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, like I said, the spell.”

“Do you really love me?” Now your eyes snapped to his and you swallowed nervously. His expression was unreadable. What was it disgust? Discomfort? Simply curiosity?

“I do.” There was a moment of silence, the longest moment of your entire life. You were sure years had passed before either of you move.

And then he pulled you to his lips, kissing you with newfound energy. It was exactly as you had imagined, soft lips but nipping teeth. He didn’t seem to mind the mud, or the fact that it was you. In fact, it seemed to be because it was you that he didn’t mind the mud.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he laughed between butterfly kisses, smearing away the mud as he went.

“The women you-,”

“Are nothing, everyone is nothing compared to you.” Your eyes widened in surprise and you tackled him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him back with equal ferocity. “You are everything, my everything, and nothing will change that. Not women or spells, there is nothing but you and me.”

[ssson-of-sparda]

Strawberry Sundae

Summary: It's story time! Have you ever wondered why Dante affectionate strawberry sundaes so much? Well Patty has and luckily for her, he is about to tell her. It will just cost her a small favour. A man got to pay his debts remember.

Tags: ANGST (but with some very cute moments) / Dante’s childhood /  childhood trauma 

Author’s note: This is my take on Dante’s origins and also my first time writing for the Devil May Cry fandom. I hope I did it right and that you will love it. Set whenever you want but definitely after the DMC Anime. I made the reader female (in case I write a sequel. I have ideas for one, just tell me if you want one), but it can definitely be read as Gen!Reader if you make some small changes.

           To most people Patty Lowell looked so cute and angelic with her girly lacy dresses and her silk ribbons in her baby blond hair they’d think butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. But to Dante, she was the most annoying brat that ever walked this earth and, even though he would never admit it, also one of his dearest friends. And like all his friends, he owed her big.             “I’ll erase that from your tab.” She said as she swallowed a spoonful of vanilla ice cream.   “Oh c’mon! You keeping counts now?” Dante harrumphed and watched the kid wipe her mouth like a very distinguished lady. “You spend too much time with Lady.”   “Not too much. Just enough to know you owe me a trip to the beach, two dresses, a dozen ice cream cones and six strawberries sundaes” She counted on her fingers and Dante sighed as he slouched in the fake-leather seat of Freddy’s diner. “Well, you can’t have it all now, can you?”       “You’ve been saying this for months. And for months you’ve been eating hundreds of sundaes and bought none for me.” She grumbled, staring at him with a pout as he nonchalantly took the strawberry on top of his sundae to eat it, eyes closed to savour the sweetness of the fruit in his mouth. “What’s with your obsession with strawberry sundaes anyway?” She asked, genuinely curious. After all, even after spending so much time with Dante, watching him evolve in his natural habitat (meaning the Devil May Cry) and coming to the conclusion that Dante was a very unique species of man, one that whose diet was only based on pizzas and strawberry sundaes and that knew nothing of women, Patty still hadn’t figured why he was the way he was.   Dante opened an eye to see her impatiently waiting for an answer. “If I tell you, would you consider erasing … let’s say six sundaes of my tab?” He smirked, knowing Patty would not resist the curiosity to know more about him.             “That could be arranged. But your story better be good!”

STRAWBERRY SUNDAE

                 One more step and this would be the furthest Dante had ever been from his house. Of course, he had dared follow Vergil down to that weird old man’s house to secretly spy on his brother, wondering what was so interesting and fun in keeping a wrinkly company but he had never stepped a foot in the city. Never could. The only time he had tried and had somehow managed to go down the hill of his red home without tumbling down the steep rocky stairs and lay even just a toe on the urban pavement he was now standing on, his father and his sharp demonic earring had found him and brought him back home with a firm grip around the collar of his white shirt. Sparda had scolded him so much that day that even Vergil hadn’t dared smirking.       But here he was. Wet, trembling and cold, under a pouring rain, wondering where to go, what to do, both feet on the pavement, his tiny arms holding on tight to his father’s sword which was way bigger than he was. He had never been so terrified, so alert, his blue eyes widened and scanning all his surroundings in every direction possible like a poor defenceless animal fearing for its life, wondering if a deadly predator was secretly watching him crouched in the thickest shadow, the same kind of predator that took his mother and brother away from him.                 He wanted to call for help, ask someone, anyone for guidance but he didn’t know whom to trust or if he could trust anyone. All he knew was that he had to be strong, that he had to be a big boy, a man. That’s what his mother had told him before leaving, before … A tear streamed down his childish face. Not the first one tonight. He wiped it with his sooty knuckle but a new one appeared, bigger and more painful. It stung his eye and he cried harder. A devil should not cry but he was so tired. And he wanted his mama. And he wanted his big brother. But they were gone and behind him, his house up the hill was just a pile of smoking ash and burnt bricks.            

“Why are you crying?” Dante jumped and his small yet strong grip grabbed a hold of Rebellion’s hilt. It took his eyes a short second to fall upon the face of a little girl holding a green frog-shaped umbrella above both their heads. “Are you lost?”  She said as she tried to catch a glimpse of Dante’s face hidden behind layers of soot and wet hair. “Is it a real sword?”         “Don’t touch it!” Dante growled, pressing his father’s sword tighter against his chest, shielding it from the curious child as she tried to put her fingers on the legendary weapon. It had seen Vergil do that countless of times. And though it never worked with him, it formidably worked with the child in front of him. “It’s my dad’s.”         “Is your dad a knight?” She questioned with amazed (colour) eyes, imagining heroes in shining armours resembling the ones in the stories her mother would read her before bed. “My dad is the Legendary Dark Knight.” Dante spat, scowling behind his silver hair falling over his eyes, a pitiful and vain attempt at sending the little girl packing. After all, to her eyes, he didn’t look impressive at all, more like a wet small kitten that someone had abandoned in the street.     She shrugged “My dad doesn’t have a sword and he is not a legendary dark prince or whatever but he has a mighty spatula and his strawberry sundaes are the best in the whole kingdom!” She exclaimed with an over-the-top enthusiasm that made Dante’s weary frown even more pronounced. “That’s the name of my father’s diner.” She pointed at the pinkish red neon sign across the street. Kingdom’s diner. “You’re hungry?” Dante thought he wasn’t until he heard a rumbling in his tummy. Yes, maybe he was even though his heart was preoccupied by other things than hunger. “Come on. Follow me.”         He hesitated for a few seconds, watching the girl cross the crowded street in her way-too-large yellow oilskin - which was probably not hers now that he thought about it – and feeling the rain pouring on his shivering body again. “Well? What are you waiting for?”           With one last look at his destroyed home up on the hill, Dante finally took a step towards the girl waiting for him by the warm neon lights of the diner. And he took another step, and another, feeling a weird weight forming in his stomach. A mix of apprehension and hope. Apprehension of what’s waiting in this unknown land and hope that his father would suddenly appear and bring him back home. But once more, Sparda never showed up and the child was left alone.   Dante had never ventured that far away from home but he had no home anymore, right?

                 The diner was warm and cosy, with red plastic booth seats and speckled grey linoleum-covered tables that were incredibly clean and shiny. On the walls there were vintage-like pictures of old cars, old advertisements and old Hollywood stars who were almost all complete strangers to Dante apart from a glamorous blond woman with a weird mole and another one with a tiara and a cigarette holder. Pretty sure he had seen them both in some boring movies he had seen – or slept through - with his mother and Vergil. Mama. Vergil. He missed them already. Terribly.

A new tear fell along his cold cheek and Dante looked down, devastated that he would never see them again; guilty that he could not save them, angry that his father had not been there to protect them. And with his wet sorrow came scorching flashes and piercing screams. But soon they were covered by the sound of weird music sizzling in a machine that looked like from another time. “I always listen to music when I feel bad. I like music. Do you like music?” She was impossibly chatty but deep down Dante knew it was only to take his mind off whatever she thought he was thinking about. After all, he would use the same trick on his brother. “There are a hundred of songs in this jukebox.” So that was this hellish machine was. A jukebox. “Pick one. I’ll make some strawberry sundae” She smiled and disappeared behind the counter which was way too high for Dante to see what she was doing. “Oh but don’t play the music too loud. My parents are sleeping upstairs.”  

He didn’t know how it worked but he thought that pushing a button would do the trick. And so he did. And he almost fell on his butt when the jukebox started shaking and doing weird sizzling noises. Had he just broken it? “I… I” He mumbled pointing at the machine and the girl’s childish head popped up from behind the counter a bit like a funny rabbit leaves his hole. “Kick it!” She said and Dante looked at her, harrumphed and unsure he had heard right. His mother never allowed him to kick anything … especially not Vergil … and he kicked Vergil a lot … because he deserved it.                 “There!” The girl approached and gave the dying machine a small yet firm kick that made it come back to life. “It does that sometimes.”

“What’s with all the racket?” A loud voice growled and a man with tousled and sparse black hair appeared from upstairs. Only wearing an old navy blue robe over a white t-shirt and a pair of checked slippers, he looked asleep and yet angry. “Y/N what are you doing … up?” His somewhat aggressiveness turned into confusion when he saw Dante standing next to his beloved daughter.  He blinked a couple times and shook his head to make sure he was perfectly awake and not dreaming. What was this boy doing in his restaurant? All wet and covered in soot? “Who are you?” He managed to voice.       Dante opened his mouth though unsure what to answer. “He’s my friend.” The girl replied. “Your friend?” She nodded vigorously. “I was making him a strawberry sundae.”

If there was two things Mister Y/LN had a soft spot for, it was food – sugary and greasy food – and his precious daughter Y/N. She was his little princess, his only daughter, the apple of his eye (even when there was sleep crust in its corner like right now). He could not refuse her anything and could not stay mad at her for more than a couple of minutes to the great disappointment of his wife.  And even though he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t help it.           “Y/N” He sighed and went to kneel in front of his daughter. “You cannot invite a little boy that late at night. I’m sure his parents must be very worried.” He glanced at Dante who looked down his brown boots hiding his eyes yet again behind his silver hair. What curious hair. “But since he is here, let’s eat those strawberry sundaes.” The little girl grinned and ran back to finish her creamy dessert with an enthusiasm that made the man smile for a small second.

Even though Mister Y/LN was weak for his daughter he was still a man of reason. Something deep in his guts was telling him something was wrong with that kid and the last thing he wanted was trouble. Who was he? Where did he come from? What happened to him? Where were his parents? Was he some kind of street kid? A child of drug dealers from the rough areas of Red Grave? Should he call the police? Maybe so. Certainly so. They would certainly know what to do. It was their job after all. He was just a cook, a sleepy cook. What could he do, except offering that scrawny kid a strawberry sundae? “Why don’t you sit, boy?” He waved at the stool and Dante climbed on it without saying a word. “I’ll be right back.”

“So what’s your name?” The little girl said as she placed two coupe glasses filled with cream, ice cream and strawberries right before Dante’s eyes that immediately ogled at the dessert with greediness. So much sugar, so much cream, so many strawberries. He loved chocolate, but this, this looked like even better than chocolate and his stomach seemed to agree.       Excited to taste it, he went to grab the spoon that was placed by the couple but was immediately stopped. “Wait. I’m not done.” Y/N shouted and, with a frown and the tip of her pink tongue out, cautiously topped both sundaes with a cherry and two pink wafers. “There. Now you can eat it.” She barely had time to finish the sentence that Dante quickly stuffed a generous spoonful in his tiny mouth. OH GOD! If his mother saw him right now eating so much sugar in the middle of the night she would be furious. But this was the most delicious thing in the world. After pizza of course.       He ate another spoonful, and another, humming after each, as he was slowly reaching a comforting sugary paradise. “I’m guessing you like it.” The little girl giggled, laughing at his mouth as round as a balloon and the cream running from the corner of his lips. Dante froze at the laugh and stare at her with a blush creeping up his inflated cheeks until he swallowed with a big gulp. “Yeah.” He confessed and Y/N smiled at the small amount of joy she caught in his childish voice.   “You still haven’t told me your name. I’m Y/N by the way.” She reached out to shake his hand and Dante stared at it for a few seconds, remembering what his mother had told him as she hid him a wardrobe.

You must change your name. Forget your past and start a new life as someone else. But who could he be? And could he be someone else? After all, he had always been Dante, the restless daredevil son of Sparda and Eva and annoying little brother to Vergil who always picked a fight for fun and found ways to be involved in new kinds of mischiefs.               There was a silence, heavy and pregnant, as the boy tried to answer the questions in his confused little head and as the girl patiently waited for him to talk. And only the lively music from the jukebox could be heard in the room. And it sang to Dante ‘Hey there Anthony boy. Why are you in such a rush (go!). The girl, she wanna talk to you. Look at him, how he blush (go!)’ giving birth to his new identity. A new beginning.               “I’m Anthony.” He finally grabbed her hand and she shook it with a smile that he tried to mimic. An effort he thought he would have never done tonight but that he did for her. Calm down, Tony me boy. “Tony for short.”         “Well nice to meet you, Tony. I’m sure we’re going to be good friends.”

And with a new spoonful of strawberry sundae he said goodbye to Dante. Hey there, Anthony boy!

***

“That was a lovely story, Dante. Sad but lovely.” Patty finally declared after being incredibly silent during Dante’s childhood story. A first. “Glad you liked it.” Dante said with a small smile that was barely concealing the sadness that this memory had brought back. “So does that mean those six sundaes are off my tab?”               “I guess so.” She shrugged as she drank the ice cream in her coupe. “Great.” He winked and stood up, throwing a bill on the table before putting his long red coat on.  “So … you love strawberry sundaes because they were the first things that gave you comfort after you lost your mom?”           “No, I love strawberry sundaes because they remind me why humans are sometimes worth fighting for.”

But mostly, he liked them because they reminded him of someone who had helped him build a new life, someone who had given him kindness, generosity and love when he thought that all he could expect from life was sorrow and pain. They reminded him of you.     Yes, that’s why he loved strawberry sundaes.

[megsironthrone]

Stay or Go?

Based on this request: Hey, could you please write something for Thoros of Myr x Tyrell Reader. The Reader is Loras twin sister and is both a warrior but also a lady like her sister Margaery. She is meant to marry some Highborn lord bit doesnt want to. She runs away to the woods and comes across the brotherhood where she and Thoros slowly fall for eachother. She stays with them for a while but both of them know that she has to return to Kings Landing and her family. Its up to you if it ends in heartbreak or if she stays with the brotherhood and Thoros. 

Here you are, lovely! *Characters are NOT mine!*   

Warnings: Fluff and angst. First time writing Thoros

Pairings/Characters: Thoros of Myr x fem!Tyrell reader, Beric Dondarrion 

In hindsight, running away from King's Landing and leaving behind your sister and grandmother probably wasn't your best idea. But you would be damned if you sat around waiting for the day Cersei convinced your father to sell you off like cattle. So, you ran. The moment you'd heard word of the marriage your father was trying to arrange, you packed a few things along with a sword and some gold, and you hightailed it out of King's Landing. Little did you know that you would end up finding your greatest adventure.

         You should have been paying closer attention to your surroundings. Maybe then, you wouldn't have run into them. The Brotherhood Without Banners had a reputation after all. Still, what's done was done and here you were, face-to-face with Beric Dondarrion.

         "Well, Lady Y/N Tyrell. It's strange seeing you out here. What brings you to these woods?" You glared at him, but didn't reply. You held your head high, causing him to chuckle. "You needn't worry, my lady. You are in no danger from us so long as you pose no danger to us. Has someone done something to you? Kidnapped you?" You shook your head. "No."

         "Then you are running," another voice joined in the conversation. You turned your head and were met with a striking pair of eyes. They studied you intensely. "My lady, allow me to introduce Thoros of Myr. He is a servant of the Lord of Light." You looked at him warily, but curtsied all the same. "As are we all. The Lord welcomes you, Lady Y/N. He has great plans for you." You didn't know if that should frighten you or excite you. One thing you did know for sure was that Thoros' eyes were going to haunt your dreams.

*time skip*

         You spent months with the Brotherhood. Unintentionally, of course. You had meant to move on, but there was something about that band of men that made you feel safe and at home. They became, truthfully, like brothers to you. Well, except for one of them. No matter how you tried, you couldn't think of Thoros as a brother.

         After your initial meeting, you had begun spending time with Thoros more than anyone else. You weren't even certain as to why. There was something in the way he spoke and carried himself that intrigued you. Plus, he made you laugh. The two of you grew close. Very close. It didn't take long for you to fall for him and you would never forget the night you told him.

*flashback*

         Everyone else was already sleeping. You, Thoros, and Beric were the only people left awake and you had made up your mind that you were going to tell Thoros how you felt. You had never been a coward before and you certainly weren't about to start now. You stood from your spot on the ground and walked over to Thoros. He smiled up at you as plopped down across from him.

         "Thoros," you greeted, trying to keep yourself calm. It was clear he saw right through your façade and he smiled. "How may I be of service, my lady?" Everything you'd planned on saying to him flew out of your mind and instead, what came out was, "IknowIshouldn'tbutIloveyou." You felt your face grow hot, like someone lit another fire right next to you. Somehow, however, Thoros seemed to know exactly what you'd said.

         "And why shouldn't you?" You blinked in surprise, but the smile never left his face. He was looking at you in a way you'd never been looked at before and you couldn't place it. Taking a deep breath, you answered, "You are a priest of the Lord of Light. He has chosen you for a great task. L-Love isn't it. I suppose there is no room for love during times like these." You moved to stand, but Thoros placed a hand on your knee to stop you.

         "The Lord of Light is a god of justice and retribution," he began. You were hanging on every word despite the fact that your heart was slowly breaking. He gently took your hand in his and gripped it softly as he continued, "But he is also a lord of love. I believe he lead you to me so I too may have love in my life on this earth." Thoros leaned forward, resting his forehead on yours. "I love you, my Y/N."

*end*

         Now, nearly a year later, you sat with Thoros' cloak wrapped around you and smile on your face. You leaned into Thoros, resting your head on his shoulder. Things weren't perfect, but they were probably as close as you were ever going to get in Westeros.  Still, there was that nagging feeling in the back of your head.

         You'd been hearing about everything going on in King's Landing. Of how the High Sparrow had made Cersei walk through the streets of the city, stripped of her clothing, while the people threw disgusting things at her. Of how your twin and your sister were being kept prisoner in the Sept of Balor until they confessed to their crimes. It worried you and part of you wanted to return to them, if only for a little while.

         "It is time for you to leave us," Thoros whispered just loudly enough for you to hear. You sat up and looked at him in confusion. "What?" Thoros gave you a sad smile. "I know you are worried for them. They need you now. You should return to King's Landing and ensure that they are safe. After that, the choice is yours. Stay with them or come back to me."

         "The choice is mine regardless, Thoros. What if I wish to stay with you?" He held your hand and kissed your forehead. "Then I would cherish every moment. But your family needs you. If the reports we are receiving from the capitol are correct, then your siblings are undoubtedly frightened and need your guidance and support."

         You knew he was right. He usually was, but you said nothing. That was enough for him to know that you'd made up your mind. "I shall wait for you until my dying breath, my Y/N," he told you later that day after you'd packed up your meager belongings. You turned to face him with tears in your eyes.

         "I will come back. I love you." You grabbed him by his tunic and pulled him to you, kissing him with as much passion as you could muster. Your tears began to fall, but neither of you seemed to care. Nothing could break you apart in that moment. It wasn't until you needed to breathe that you pulled apart. Once more, Thoros rested his forehead against yours. "Ride safe and if you must fight, strike true. And carry my love with you, wherever you go." After another kiss, you were off to King's Landing.

         It was weeks later that another message found Thoros. He sank to his knees upon hearing it. The Sept of Balor was in ruins. Blown to bits and burned to nearly ash by wildfire. The end of House Tyrell. Olenna was the only living Tyrell left, according to what he'd heard. You were gone. The one person on the earth Thoros loved more than life itself and you were gone. Dead. Nothing but a pile of ash.

         A hand on his shoulder stopped Thoros from crying out. "We are not far from Highgarden. We should pay our respects to the Lady Olenna. She would want to know that her granddaughter died loved by the only man truly worthy of her." Beric didn't wait for a reply, but after selecting one of the brothers to watch over the others for a few days, the two of them headed off.

         In his hand, Thoros kept a pendant you had given him. A lovely little trinket with your house sigil carved into it. He wore it close to his heart, knowing that, even as Highgarden drew close, he would never look upon your smiling face again. He only hoped Lady Olenna would have a solution for his broken heart.

(a/n: I hope you like it!)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard​ @brewsthespirit-blog​ @etherealpotter​ @line-viper​ @frozenhuntress67​ @cd1242​ @gruffle1​ @smalltownbigheart​ @igotmadskills​

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

I Could Do Worse

A/N: Some people expressed an interest in seeing some stuff about my basically dead OC. I’ve written a lot of stuff and dialogue I’m pretty proud of, but I don’t have the time or the inclination to actually put it all together. I might save her for an original work, but that’s still a maybe. So, I thought I’d just share it all randomly with you. If you’d liked to be tagged in future content, let me know!

Tagged: @imagine-the-fanfics​, @flapjacques​, @aqueencomplexx​

Background: Elenna is the eldest daughter of Ned and Catlyn Stark, being Robb’s twin sister. She loves the North.  If given the choice, she would have lived and died without ever leaving the walls of Winterfell.  However, as the eldest daughter, her duty is to wed a husband beneficial to her family. But, she never imagined the man she would marry would be the Kingslayer, a man without honor, Jaime Lannister.

I decided to go up with the aged up version of the show characters to make it frankly more bearable for me to write.

She and Jaime are married about a year before the events of the first book. This is the scene where Ned tells Elenna the King’s decision.

Word Count: 1.0K

“Come in,” her father called.

Elenna walked into his study to find him standing alone behind his desk. For so long, it had been a forbidden room. To her siblings it signaled some kind of punishment.  For her, however, it was a place of peace, somewhere she could work and study in perfect silence with the only other person in Winterfell who seemed to crave it.  But now, the normal tired, but happy light in her father’s eyes was gone, replaced with a solemn executioner.

Now she understood why her siblings feared the room. 

“Close the door,” he said, gently.

She did as she was told before turning back to her father.

“Mother said you wanted to speak to me.”

Lord Stark nodded his head, his eyes transfixed on the desk and the parchment laid across it.

That alone gave her pause. He always said, ‘he who carries out the sentence should swing the sword’. Although, being a lady, she would never sentence a man to die, she understood it meant she must take full responsibility for her decisions. The man in front of her had taught her that; now, he couldn’t even look her in the eye.

“The king has taken it upon himself to find you a husband,” he said.

Her heart beat spiked as a sudden flush of nerves washed over her.  But, she kept it off her face, as any other Lady of the North would. 

“That is very kind of his majesty,” she said, stepping further into the room.  “Has he told you who his has in mind?”

Her father’s usual stoicism wavered as a grimace pulled on his lip.  “The king has commanded me to give you away…to the Kingslayer.”

Elenna eyes widened. “Jaime Lannister?”

Her father said nothing still looking away from her.

“The king has commanded you…to marry me to Jamie Lannister,” she repeated slowly still trying to process the information.

He finally looked at her, the pain his words caused him echoed across his features.

“Yes.”

She suddenly felt dizzy and sat down in the nearest chair.  This time she was the one that couldn’t bear to look at her father.

“I take it he is no longer in the King’s Guard,” she said.

He nodded.  “King Robert wishes us to depart for Casterly Rock as soon as we are can. When we arrive he will release Sir Jaime from his vows.”

She took a slow breath bringing her composure back with it.  “And how long after are we to be married,” she asked.  

“About a month, maybe less.”

She looked to him.  “So soon?”

He met her gaze, but said nothing. It was answer enough.

“I suppose that makes sense,” she said.  “If we are to be married we might as well get it over with.”

“I’m so sorry, Elenna.”

She shook her head, her eyes softening at his words.

“I don’t blame you father. Robert is your king and friend.  If he commands it, I do not expect you to say no.”  

Guilt seemed to have taken permanent residence on her father’s face. She knew he wished to comfort her, but they both recognized the truth of her statement.

“Besides it’s a logical match,” she continued.  “It’s no secret the crown is in debt to Tywin Lannister.  If King Robert allows Tywin’s eldest son to marry and claim his inheritance, Tywin is more willing to forgive some of the debt. The king would also want somebody on his side to be married to the heir of Casterly Rock.  Whom better than the daughter of his best friend? It’s all…very well-reasoned.”

Her father almost laughed.  “I rather you had just screamed and told me you wouldn’t go through with it.”

She raised an eyebrow.  “Would that had helped?”

“No,” he admitted, “but it might have made me feel better.”

She gave a small smile.

He matched it, but only for a moment.  It was something at least.

“Come here, child.”

She did.  In an instant she was wrapped in the warmth of her father’s arms. Even at sixteen years of age, she still found safety in them.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he said.

“According to you, no man deserves me,” she countered.

“That’s because no man does.”

Elenna nodded, holding her rising emotions by burying them in familiar comfort. “I could do worse.”

Ned sighed and place a small kiss on the top of her head before pulling away to take in her face.

“I should be the one justifying this marriage to you, not the other way around.”

She looked to the ground, unsure of what to say. She couldn’t tell him what she was actually feeling, even she didn’t know.  She just knew she had to lessen the pain, at least for one of them.

“You’re a good girl Elenna,” he said, gently.

She smiled, masking the hurt as best she could.  “So, I’ve been told.”

He allowed her a small smile at that.  

“May I make a request?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“I know the King wishes us to depart as soon as we are able.  And I know with efficiency we could do so within a few days, but could I have at least a fortnight?  I need to make sure everything is in order."

He nodded. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

A small breath of relief escaped her. “Thank you.”

“You better be on,” he said.  “Your brothers and sisters are going to want to know what we’ve been discussing.”

“Are you not going to tell them?” she asked.

“I think it would be best if they heard it from you first, if they wish to discuss it further they can come to me.”

His eyes softened, his features finally coming back to something more resembling the father she knew. 

“I love you very much, my girl,” he said. “And know that no matter who your husband my be, you are a child of Winterfell. You remember our words?”

“Winter is coming,” she said, faithfully.

“Winter is coming,” he repeated in approval.  “And when it does come, your pack will always be there for you.”

She stood straight, her eyes never wavering.  “I understand.”

“I know you do,” he said, before nodding towards the door.  “Go on.”

She took her leave, making sure never to look back even as the door closed behind her.  The pressure of tears might prickle behind her eyes, her breath might quicken, and her hands might shake, but she would no break.  There were worst things to cry about, and Winter was coming.

[morgwensolsticefest]

Morgwen Solstice Winter 2020 Masterpost

Thank you everyone for a lovely fest and for participating in the first Morgwen Solstice fest! Authors have been revealed and the full list of fics can be found below or in the Ao3 Collection! :)

Title: every word I say is kindling by lordvoldemortsnipple​

Recipient:  Sable_Nakahara (@sable-nakahara)

Rating: G | Warnings: No archive warnings apply | Medium: Fanart

Summary:

A knight, a princess, and a sword laid to rest.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28718958

⚔️

Title: all of my truths by greenforsnow

Recipient: Trojie ( @trojieface)

Rating: T | Warnings: No archive warnings apply | Word Count: 4,227

Summary:

Morgana and Gwen encounter the unicorn from The Labyrinth of Gedref

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30006903

⚔️

Title: Happiness Is a Butterfly by SlantedKnitting

Recipient: Polomonkey ( @thepolomonkey)

Rating: Explicit | Warnings: none | Word Count: 17,245

Summary:

It’s time for Camelot’s hottest nightclub to host its annual couples contest. This year, Morgana and Gwen are competing, and Morgana is determined to win—and beat last year’s champions—at any cost.

Notes: Thank you to Polomonkey for the incredible prompt, and thanks to the mods for running this fest!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29997894

⚔️

Title: when the hairpins start to drop by Trojie

Recipient: Morgwen Solstice Community

Rating: M | Warnings: None | Word Count: 1,729

Summary:

There are the unwritten rules of society, and then there are the things Morgana does. Gwen tries her best to skirt the edges of the inherent problem, but her mistress is never one to let things just be.

Notes: title from Lorde's 'White Teeth Teens'. Beta-read by the incomparable kickflaw.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29907441

⚔️

Title: my hardest goodbye by TheDragon

Recipient: Morgwen Solstice Community

Rating: E | Warnings: n/a | Word Count: 3,127

Summary:

"Morgana?" Gwen asks, bringing one hand to her mouth, eyes wide with shock. She's even more beautiful now than she was when they were both back at school. "H—how…?" "Gwen," Morgana replies, struggling to keep her voice steady. The feelings she'd tried so hard to rid herself of all those years ago rise to the fore, refusing to be held back any longer. "I can't believe my eyes," Gwen breathes.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068049

⚔️

Title: With Eyes Wide Open (A Tragedy in Three Acts) by queerofthedagger

Recipient: Atlanta_Black ( @atlantablack)

Rating: Mature | Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Word Count: 18,200

Summary:

Everyone has a breaking point, and Morgana has always known all too well how to find each and every one of Gwen's. The enchantment Morgana tries to weave in the dark tower does not work as intended, not entirely. It's in the aftermath, though, that Gwen has to make a row of hard choices; where she has to decide for herself what she wants and what she needs. It's not easy, and they might not end up being the right decisions, but for once they are all hers and maybe that's all that matters. A story of grief, rage, (the absence of) forgiveness, and loving someone who is still alive but does not exist anymore. Of maybe taking a wrong turn that leads to the right destination.

Notes: Please mind the tags!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30100563/chapters/74138448

⚔️

Title: You Cheer Me Up by Sable_Nakahara

Recipient: TheDragon ( @lair-of-the-dragon)

Rating: Not Rated | Warnings: no archive warnings apply | Word Count: 1,896

Summary:

Gwen’s been enamored with Morgana for about as long as she can remember. Today, she’s decided, is the day she will tell her. But will she have the nerve? And how do you court a royal lady anyhow? Or in other words: Gwen brings Morgana flowers and feelings are revealed.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30033372

⚔️

Title: Let My Hope Grow Cold by��elissastillstands

Recipient: queerofthedagger ( @queerofthedagger)

Rating: G | Warnings: N/A | Medium: Art

Summary:

Come, my dear, and be a part of my home / Missing stitch and flowers on a headstone. Gwen and Morgana, the past they shared, and the present they chose. Lyrics from "October" by The Crane Wives.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29768025

⚔️

Title: this graveyard of forgotten love by Atlanta_Black

Recipient: elissastillstands ( @elissastillstands)

Rating: Mature | Warnings: Creator Chose to Not Use Archive Warnings | Word Count: 10,840

Summary:

"Gently, she leads you out into the darkness / and makes you drink rain." -Patricia Smith, from "Prologue --And Then She Owns You,"

☀︎

Gwen has never fully managed to shake her love for the lady who had once sworn to keep her safe. Now locked in a tower by that same lady, she must face a truth she's long kept buried (even from herself).

An exploration of grief, anger, and the inability to let go of someone you once loved (even when you should).

Notes: This is for the lovely elissastillstands and I dearly hope you enjoy it! I hope I crafted a Gwen that's similar to the way you envision her!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30107856

⚔️

Title: Flirting With Disaster by Polomonkey

Recipient: TheLastLonelyWriter ( @thelastlonelywriter)

Rating: Teen | Warnings: None | Word Count: 2,055

Summary:

No matter what anyone said, Gwen was not a gay disaster. A movie night at Morgana's might prove her wrong.

Notes: TheLastLonelyWriter, thank you so much for your lovely prompts, I really hope you like it <3 Somehow Morgana ended up very eccentric in this, I hope that's okay!

Impossibly huge thanks to the mods for their patience while I was being a disaster all of my own, and thank you so much for running this wonderful fest!

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30193737

⚔️

Title: Letting Go (I Want You Closer) by queerofthedagger

Recipient: @lordvoldemortsnipple

Rating: Teen and Up | Warnings: None | Word Count: 2,400

Summary:

Morgana swallows. Tells herself that the sudden shortness of air is nothing but the exertion after a long winter and tries to find the right words. Tries to find the sentences to relieve Gwen of her worry without interfering, without letting her own damned feelings get in the way of Gwen’s happiness. 

 “Morgana,” Gwen says, soft and pleading, even as her blow is strong enough to reverberate up Morgana’s arm. 

--- 

Gwen has been spending more time with Arthur, and it's fine. Really, it is. Morgana stays silent, and gives Gwen space, and tells herself that seeing Gwen happy is more than enough. Gwen's not ready to let her go so easily though, and a sparring match might bring more than one secret to light.

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30228252#main

⚔️

Title: Did My Heart Love Till Now? (I Never Saw True Beauty Till This Night) by TheLastLonelyWriter 

Recipient: SlantedKnitting

Rating: General Audiences | Warnings: None Apply | Word Count: 22,622

Summary:

Gwen thought maybe the best day of her life was finding out that she had gotten the job working for the Camelot Ballet. Or maybe when she found out that Morgana Pendragon-De Bois was dancing there. As it turned out, the best day of Gwen's life would be the day that Morgana finally kissed her.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30030675/chapters/73946865

⚔️

Title: a cage of their own making by Atlanta_Black

Recipient: greenforsnow

Rating: Gen | Warnings: no archive warnings apply | Word Count: 1,519

Summary:

Gwen supposes, in retrospect, she should have guessed that Morgana also remembered (remembered it all, the castles, the betrayals, the beginning, the end, everything in between).

But she had not and now they're here, Morgana once again turning her back on her Gwen.

☀︎

Gwen won't give her up as easily this time.

Notes: This is for the lovely greenforsnow <3 This is my first time writing a modern setting or reincarnation setting for this fandom, but I really did enjoy writing this! I hope you enjoy it <3

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30245478

⚔️

Title: Giants of Albion by lordvoldemortsnipple 

Recipient: Trojie ( @trojieface)

Rating: G | Warnings: None | Medium: Fanart

Summary:

Giant of Albion's third album 'Avalon on the Horizon' was a hit, and the band prepares for another show.

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28797210

[pillow-anime-talk]

jealous!s/o.

request: hello! i love your writing so much! can i request for murasakibara’s gf being jealous and upset because they’re from different schools and they don’t get to see each other much + there’s a girl who always hangs around him

# tags: scenario; long distance & current relationship; romance; mild drama; but also fluff; sfw

includes: female reader ft. atsushi murasakibara {knb}

author’s note: murasakibara my baby 😭 

You smiled at the phone, then walked into Yosen High, looking around carefully. The school was really big and beautiful compared to your regular, small and old Morioka High School in Iwate prefecture. But you didn’t come here to see the buildings. You wanted to spend the weekend with your boyfriend because you had already talked to your parents and Atsushi’s parents a week earlier about it. They gladly agreed to your trip to Akita so that you could give your tall boy a small gift in the form of your own arrival and a few packs of his favorite (and new) snacks.

Unfortunately, due to the fact that you lived three hours away from each other, and you had a lot of activities at school and after classes, you couldn’t see each other as often as you would like. Of course, you spent Christmas, anniversaries, holidays and birthdays together, but during the school year it was difficult to realize it. You had to be content with conversations on the phone, video calls and hundreds of text messages.

Luckily you didn’t go to school today and took the train to Akita instead. Atsushi’s mother and his older sister were waiting for you on the platform, so you took your bag to their house, took a quick shower after the trip, put on more comfortable pants and a loose shirt, and thanked them for everything, taking only your black bag, wallet with some money, phone and headphones. Mrs. Murasakibara wanted to drive you to her son’s school, but you refused with a warm voice saying that you would be happy to take a walk. You helped yourself with a Google Maps and finally reached the High School building, entering it.

Earlier, you wrote a little with your soft giant’s friend – Himuro – who told you that today the Yosen school basketball team will have another training session and you should come on it. He described the way to the gym for you and said he would keep Murasakibara in the gymnasium for as long as necessary.

Fortunately, you managed to come to training, or rather a short break between games, so you breathed a sigh of relief.

You stuck your head out from behind the wall and looked around the large room.

Although you’ve been to Atsushi’s house more than once, his school was new and strange to you. The same could be said for most of your boyfriend’s team, since you only knew Tatsuya. But they seemed nice and lovely, so you smiled gently.

After a while, however, the smile on your face turned into a small frown when you felt a hit on your waist and heard a girly laugh.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t notice you, little one.”

You looked up, noticing a girl slightly taller than you. You nodded at her as you looked inside the room again.

“Are you a fan?” She asked suddenly, drawing your attention again.

“No. Not really...”

“Oh. So... You like someone from basketball team? But you’re not from our school, I’m right?” She chuckled as she adjusted her uniform. “Anyway, you can take anyone but not Murasakibara. I like him. And, you know. I was first.” She added in a confident voice, and you raised an eyebrow and clenched your fists.

‘Is she just...’

“Anyway, bye. I’m going to say ‘hi’ to him.” She add at the end, entering the room, swinging her hips. 

Most of the team sighed at the sight of her figure, but your boyfriend was busy yawning though, so he didn’t notice her at first. Coach Araki too.

You also shyly entered the room, clenching your hands on your purse and the phone which was still in your hand. You wanted to call Atsushi, but the tall blonde girl was faster than you and patting him on the back. When he looked at her, she give him a pack of colorful jelly beans and smiled.

“Hello, Atsushi-kun.”

‘Did she greet him by first name?’ Your smile faded even more, and your cheeks flushed with anger. At the same moment your presence was noticed by Himuro and the boy with ashen hair. They immediately approached you.

“Y/N-chan, hi. I thought you were lost or something...” The black-haired man laughed softly and then introduced you to the basketball player next to you, known as Kensuke Fukui.

“... Who is she?” You asked hesitantly, pointing at the girl.

“Murasakibara’s annoying fangirl. But he doesn’t pay attention to she. I mean, he doesn’t even remember her name, so don’t worry.” The new boy you met a few seconds ago truthfully answered, and you sighed.

“I came here especially for Atsu, but now I’m afraid to come up to him...” You muttered a bit sad and also upset, still looking at your tall boyfriend and the unknown young girl who was telling him something with big interest.

“As I said, don’t worry, Y/N-chan. I’ll call him. He will definitely be pleased. You know, he was complaining all day about that you didn’t write back to him.” Tatsuya laughed second time, patting you on the shoulder, then looked at his best friend. “Hey, Atsushi! Look who’s here!”

“Ehh? What's it, Muro-chin?” Your boyfriend turned and the two tall basketball players exposed your tiny body, causing purple-haired center to open his eyes wider. “Y/N-chin...” He handed the pack of jelly beans to the girl standing next to him and ran towards you like a little, happy puppy.

Five steps later he was beside you, hugging you to his warm chest, and you kissed his cheek, laughing loudly.

“Surprise, ‘Sushi.”

“Y/N-chin, what are you doing here, huh?” He grunted, picking you up and hugging you once again. “Do your parents know about this?”

“Well, I missed you so much. Everyone knew except you, because it’s a surprise, baby. Oh, I also have some of your favorite snacks for you. I was able to buy a new flavor... salt caramel or something like that.” You laughed, and his eyes flashed with joy.

“I love you.” He muttered. “I hate jellies and she keeps bringing them to me all the time... I prefer maiubo from you. Aaaand I generally prefer my Chibi-chin. Will you stay with me today?”

“I love you too. And, yes. I will stay for the whole weekend, baby.”

“Mmm. I am very pleased.” He hugged you again and then put you on the ground, placing his big hand on your head. “Want to play with us?”

“If your coach and captain don’t mind...”

“They don’t, come on, Y/N-chin.” He grabbed your smooth hand and walked towards the team. “I will introduce you to everyone.”

“Okay, baby.”

“... And you, young lady, please, leave the sports hall. Only players, coaches, managers and people who are welcome are allowed to enter gym.” Mrs. Araki spoke suddenly with her sword in her hand, and the blonde girl escaped from the huge room a moment later with pinky cheeks.

[fanfics4all]

Good News Bad Time

Request: Yes / No  Can you do hermione granger x potter male!reader where it takes place in harry pottor and the deadly hollows and Y/N is dating hermine for awhile. Where after harry, Y/N, and ron have an argument and Ron left. Y/N dance with hermione to cheer her up and Hermione tells Y/N that she's pregnant then they slept. Then harry and ron found out after they destroy the horcrux and hermine tried to kill Ron but Y/N hold her back. Can you also put in the request that I sent that Y/N is a dragon rider and has a night fury and you can name the dragon. And that his dragon is with them in deadly hollows part 1. He is in the house of gryffindor. @furiousbouquetdonutsstuff

Requests are open <3 Have a nice day/night

Hermione Granger x Potter!Male!Reader

Word count: 694

Warnings: Pregnancy and that should be it. 

Y/N: Your Name 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Hermione, Ron, Harry, and I ended up skipping out last year at Hogwarts. I wasn’t going to let my girlfriend and younger brother go alone. I also brought my dragon, Heijing. It wasn’t easy hiding with a dragon, but we managed. Heijing was well trained and did everything we told him to. Everything was working out alright. We found only one Horcrux so far and no way to destroy it. We even tried using Heijing but it didn’t work. Tensions were high and small fights were starting to ensue. Then it exploded. Ron started it with us and Harry ended it, kind of. Ron tossed the Horcrux on the ground and left. All of it really upset Hermione and she was in the tent alone. I was taking care of Heijing, but I knew Hermione needed me right now. 

“Harry? Mind if you watch Heijing for a bit?” I asked. 

“Yeah, go on.” He said.

“Thanks Har.” I said and walked inside the tent and saw Hermione sitting in one of the chairs. I walked over and turned the music on the radio up. 

“Come, dance with me.” I said, holding out my hands. She looked at me for a moment, but I pulled her up with a smile. The two of us swayed with the beat and everything was perfect in this moment. The two of us were smiling and even laughing. We were happy. Something that’s been missing for a long time. When the song ended I pulled Hermione close to me and held her against me. 

“I need to tell you something…” She whispered and I looked down at her. 

“What?” I asked. 

“Remember the other night when we finally had a moment alone together?” She asked. 

“Yeah, we were lucky Harry and Ron were distracted.” I said with a smirk. 

“Do you also remember how I’ve been feeling ill lately?” She asked. 

“Yeah, but you said you were fine.” I said, now getting concerned. 

“I am, I am. However, I-I’m pregnant.” She said and my eyes widened. 

“Do you know for sure?” I asked. 

“Yes, I took a risk and snuck out to get a few tests. All of them were positive.” She said with tears in her eyes. 

“This-This is amazing!” I said and lifted her up, twirling her around. I kissed her with all the love I had for her. 

“How can we bring a child into a world like this?” She whispered when I set her down. 

“Hey, Harry’s gonna beat You-know-who and we’ll raise our son or daughter in a happy life.” I said and kissed her. 

A few weeks went by and there was no sign of Ron returning. It wasn’t until Hermione and I woke up and walked out to see Harry was gone. If Heijing saw anything he wasn’t letting on. Hermione and I went back inside the tent and decided to wait for them. If someone had come here then Heijing would have made a tone of noise or there would be bodies. I had to believe my brother was safe. Hermione was stressing over what he was doing or even where he was. 

“Y/N! Hermione!” We heard Harry shout. The two of us walked out and saw Harry walking up. 

“Everything alright?” Hermione asked. 

“Fine. Actually, more than fine.” He said and stepped aside. Ron was standing at the edge of the camp with the sword of Gryffindor and a destroyed locket. 

“Hey.” He said with a sheepish smile. Hermione stormed up to him and began punching him. 

“Hey! Ouch!” Ron said, trying to protect himself. 

“You complete arse Ronald Weasley! You crawl back here after all these weeks and say hey?” She growled. 

“Hermione!” I said and pulled her off him. 

“Careful love.” I said and they two boys looked at me weirdly. 

“Why do you need to be careful?” Ron asked. 

“Nevermind that why I-” 

“Love, you need to relax. This amount of stress while you’re pregnant could be dangerous this early on.” I said. 

“What?” They asked. 

“We’ll explain later.” I said and brought Hermione back into the tent. I would do anything to protect my family. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie​ @tashy-bear​ @ashwarren32​ @hollie-blogs​ @schisbro87​ @lover-of-books-and-teas​ @nerdygaloresposts​ @teenwolfbitches2​ @genius2050​ @drw0301bieber​ @softgamerking​ @lady-of-lies​ @ravenmoore14​ @ravenempress101​ @cillianchamp​ @rowanthomasknapp​ @in-slytherin-we-trust​ @therealchoni​ 

[imagine-the-fanfics]

Memorized Words

Characters: College AU! Aragorn x Fem!reader

Tags: @entishramblings

Warnings: smut

A/n: this might become a series. I’m unsure, but we’ll see. Might be a series of stand alones in the same setting. I’m not sure because I have wisps of ideas, but I don’t know that I have enough to make a full-blown series. Ya know?

You first met him a month ago.

You were a new freshman, fresh off a gap year with a full ride scholarship in your pocket. Adjusting to the large campus from your small town was daunting. You hadn’t exactly been popular in high school, but you were friends with almost everyone. No one had really loved you, but no one had really hated you, either. Still, making friends was difficult.

Trying to make friends with classmates went about as well as you’d hoped. None of the “friends” you’d made were interested in anything other than sharing notes and homework answers. When you saw the signs for something called “Org Smorg”, described as a smorgasbord of student organizations attempting to recruit new members. What was a better idea than joining clubs to make friends?

You were overwhelmed with the number of organizations there, but so many interested you. One was part of the people in charge of planning campus events, including the concerts. This semester some famous singer you’d heard about but never listened to was coming, as well as your favorite spoken word poet, Blythe Baird. You decided not to get involved with that one since you worried it would take up too much time. A production team club was planning to film a short film, so you gave them your information for when they had the details figured out. Alternate theatre and some other clubs ended up in your schedule.  

It was a knight in armor that caught your eye. He was short, spoke with what you thought was a Scottish accent, talking about if the lemonade really was historically accurate since they hadn’t used the exact ingredients needed. Another man, tall and blonde assured him it didn’t really matter, and that it was close enough. He was wearing some sort of elaborately embroidered tunic and trousers, boots nearly to his knees. The third man, a scruffy man shook his head and smiled to himself.

The video that was being played caught your attention. You recognized the blonde man as he posed in what appeared to be holding a fencing helmet in one hand and a sword in the other. He was smiling next to a much older gentleman with a grand outfit, similar to what you saw kings wear in those period movies you liked to watch. You watched as the screen shifted to a fight of a short man, you assumed the man in armor since it looked like the same outfit, fighting with another person. It shifted to a video of something called The Pennsic War, according to the subtitle, with a date from last year added after. Two groups of people met on what you assumed was a battlefield. The screen shifted again—

“Greetings, fair lady,” the dark-haired man said with a slight bow and smile. “Interesting stuff, isn’t it?”

“Hey,” you greeted in return, giving an awkward wave in response. “It’s… Something. What am I looking at?”

The man explained every photograph, the blond man joining as well as the short man, his helmet removed and his red hair and beard exposed.

“That’s me,” the man said proudly, beaming at the screen. “That was a good fight.”

The trio spent the next two hours explaining the group they were representing. The Society of Creative Anachronism, or SCA for short, was essentially a medieval LARPing group.

“It’s like taking the best parts of everything that occurred during the 1600s and before to modern times, while leaving the bad parts – like the plague and misogyny – behind,” the man named Aragorn said with pride. “You said you liked period movies and Dungeons and Dragons, right? I think this group would be a good fit for you.” He gave you a flyer with different dates and meetings listed. “Legolas is going to be teaching fencing—”

“I can’t teach heavy fighting on campus,” Gimli complained. “You’ll have to come to an off-campus meeting to learn that.”

“Only if you’re comfortable; there’s no obligation to do anything,” Aragorn assured, his smile was charming and inviting, and you agreed to go to some meetings on campus to see if it was something you were interested in. “That’s great! Our next meeting is a potluck, but you don’t need to bring anything—Well, maybe a hungry stomach,” he joked. You laughed and he grinned.

The potluck was full of medieval food – sausages, bread, drinks, meat, soups – and some modern food, like Oreos and some crackers and cheese. The next meeting, Legolas started teaching you fencing, and Aragorn told stories, played a lute, and sang old songs. A complete surprise to you, Gimli worked on some illumination, fancy decoration on some scrolls that were for the baron of the area. He didn’t seem the type, but he enjoyed it.

You learned so much about them all during those meetings. Aragorn was a psychology major, minoring in plant biology. He was considering switching them as a major/minor combo, but he wasn’t sure. Legolas was a computer studies major, with linguistics as a secondary major. His minors included various languages. Gimli was an international student from Wales, majoring in history and minoring in art. He complained about people thinking he was Scottish frequently. These people were so surprising and endearing, and they quickly became your closest friends despite the age difference you brought to the table.

They learned about how you left your small town out of desperation to get away from your small town and your overbearing parents. Things had been hard, but you were granted a full ride scholarship that had been saved for the couple of years you had to take off of school. You were able to focus on your studies, which you were thankful for, but that you were still worried for your grades. Aragorn offered to study with you, since your schedules met up so perfectly and you agreed.

~~**~~

The four of you sat around a fire pit in Legolas’ parents’ backyard. Apparently, they were loaded. You couldn’t remember exactly what they did, something about being a politician or ambassador or something. He lived on campus during the week, but went home on the weekends, even though he only lived about 10 minutes from campus.

The house, if you could call it that, was massive. The backyard had a pool house, a full sized pool inside. It was the size of a two story house for a family, and you’d been told it had three bedrooms. There was a tennis and basketball court a short walk away from the fire pit. If there was any doubt about how loaded this family was, it was gone now.

Aragorn was playing his guitar, singing softly as Gimli drank beer. He tried to talk you into drinking, and you respectfully declined. Eventually, Legolas told Gimli to knock it off and Gimli stopped pestering you, though he grumbled.

“Do you play?” Aragorn asked.

“Like sports? Not really. I enjoy tennis and volleyball casually, though,” you replied.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I meant instruments.”

“Oh, not really. My brother tried to teach me guitar, but I never learned. I’ve been trying to learn how to play kalimba, but I’m not good at it.”

“What’s a kalimba?” Gimli asked.

“It’s a thumb piano that sounds like a music box.”

“That sounds lovely,” Legolas said with a smile.

“Maybe next time you can play it for us,” Aragorn suggested. “Do you sing?”

“I’m not good at it,” you admitted, looking at the fire.

“I disagree,” Legolas chimed in. “I heard you before I arrived at the last meeting.”

“I’ll judge it for myself,” Aragorn said, continuing to strum random notes on his guitar. “What do you want to sing? I know a lot of songs, old and new.”

You sighed, resigned to your fate. “Jenny of Oldstone?”

“From Game of Thrones?” Aragorn asked, starting to play it softly. You nodded. “I think I remember how to play it.”

“That sounds right,” Legolas said. Gimli leaned back in his chair.

Gimli frowned as he realized he was out of beer. He opened the cooler and cursed when he saw it was empty, and stood up. “I’ll be right back,” he announced, “don’t start without me.” He made his way back into the house with the cooler.

“How much can that man drink?” You asked, amazed.

“A lot,” Legolas and Aragorn said in unison. Aragorn chuckled and shook his head.

“I guess you have time to warm up, if you want.” Aragorn was still smiling as he looked at you.

“I’m not sure how,” you admitted shyly, looking into the fire.

“I’ll teach you.” and Aragorn did just that. The two

you sang tongue twisters and scales.

By the time Gimli was back, you and Aragorn had finished.

“Didn’t start without me, did ya?” Gimli asked.

“Nope!” You smiled at him. “Aragorn helped me warm up. Gimli hummed in approval and you looked to Aragorn. “Should we start?” You asked.

He nodded and started to play. He stumbled on a note, surprised by the quality of your voice. He quickly recovered, focusing on his attention on the movement of his fingers against the neck of the guitar. You were embarrassed, but you still sang without issue.

Gimli clapped as you finished. “Sing something else!”

“Leave her be,” Aragorn sighed before turning to you. “You sing beautifully. Why don’t you think so?”

“Just been told that a few times too many to think otherwise,” you said with a shrug, looking into the fire.

“Bastards,” Gimli stated simply. “Liars and bastards.”

You smiled, not saying anything.

“If she won’t sing then you should,” Gimli said to Aragorn.

“Alright, let me think.” Aragorn looked up at the stars, to you, and then into the fire. “Got it,” he said before tuning the guitar. “I just started learning this one, though.”

“Oh?” Legolas looked to you as if figuring out a puzzle.

“I memorized all the words for you, but if you only knew how much that’s just not like me.” You shivered, you’d heard Aragorn sing before, but this was different. “I wait up late every night just to hear your voice, but you don’t know that’s nothing like me.”

It reminded you of those nights when you would call him, unable to sleep. He’d tell you a story until you were about to crash. You’d say goodnight, wondering what he had stayed up until 1 am, but dismissed it as him working on his schoolwork.

Legolas watched you, sipping a beer he’d just gotten from Gimli. You felt like you were being judged, and mildly ganged up on. You had a feeling what was happening, but you were terrified of being wrong.

”I want to make sure everything is perfect for you. If you only knew that's not like me to follow through. Maybe even give up all these dead end dreams just to be with you, but you don't know that's nothing like me.” His voice was rough but tender, gentle yet soft. There was some kind of yearning, some kind of heartache, in his voice as he sang.

You wanted him to be singing about you, though you weren’t entirely sure why. It was strange. You’d had crushes in the past, but this felt different. You’d thought it was close friendship, but now you were realizing that wasn’t the case.

“Just when I thought all was lost,” Aragorn’s eyes were glued to you as he sang, “you came and made it all okay.”

You damn near swooned and he returned his gaze to the neck of his guitar. Legolas watched you carefully, sipping his beer. Gimli, oblivious, watched Aragorn, finishing his beer.

The song ended and Legolas looked to Aragorn and then to Gimli before back to Aragorn.

“Mind watching the fire? It looks like it’s about done, and I’m tired. Gimli and I are tired—“

“I’m not tired,” Gimli interrupted.

“Regardless, we’re going inside. I’ll let you have some of my expensive whiskey.”

“The $300 stuff?” Gimli’s eyes were sparkling.

“Sure, but let’s get inside quickly.”

“I’ll help clean up,” you said, standing.

“No, that’s alright. It can wait until morning.” Legolas stood up, and Gimli followed him into the mansion.

The only sounds were the crickets, cackling of the fire, and Aragorn’s guitar. Fifteen minutes of this and the fire was dying. You didn’t realize you were shivering until Aragorn spoke up.

“Are you okay? You’re shivering.”

“I guess I’m a bit cold,” you admitted.

“Come here then,” he suggested, patted next to him on the bench.

His guitar was placed on the stone floor and he shrugged off his leather jacket, draping it around you when you took the spot next to him. He put an arm around you, pulling you closer.

Aragorn smelled of leather and patchouli, trees and dirt and grass, and it was comforting. You scooted as close to him as you could, his warmth so nice.

Silence loomed, but it was as comfortable as it was terrifying. There was so much you wanted to say, but couldn’t muster the courage until the fire was out.

“We should go inside,” Aragorn muttered, petting your head as you leaned against his chest.

“Can I ask you a question first?” You looked up at him but realized you didn’t have a good view, so you leaned away from him.

“Sure, ask away.” Aragorn looked nervous and relaxed at the same time, though you had never seen that combination before.

“That song…” You couldn’t finish it.

“I like you, Y/n. I like you a lot, actually.” He looked into the fire, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “That first night you called because you couldn’t sleep, I was asleep and woke up to you calling me—“

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you muttered, pulling his jacket around you tighter.

“No, it’s alright,” he assured. “I started staying awake later in case you called again. A few days of that and that song came on the radio and I realized that I had feelings for you, so I started to learn it.” He grabbed the poker and adjusted the embers, helping them go out. “And then I realized I’ve never learned a song for anyone except my ex, and now you.”

You didn’t know what to say, and he took your silence as an invitation to continue.

“I saw you at Org Smorg and wanted to you win you over and bring you into the SCA so I could keep seeing you. I was so excited when you showed up at the first meeting. When you said you were worried about your grades, I saw an opportunity and offered to form a study group. I’ve never studied with someone else before, but it was a chance to see you more.”

More silence.

“I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have told you this—“

You cut him off with a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Don’t apologize. I’ve got a dumb schoolgirl crush on you, too. Have for a while, just didn’t realize it until tonight.”

Aragorn just stared at you in shock, so you kissed him again, one hand snaking around his neck, the other still holding his jacket over your shoulders. He kissed you back, and it deepened, getting more needy and intense. There was an urgency in it that caught you off guard, and you were surprised when you realized you had initiated that step.

One hand wrapped around your back, the other played with the bottom hem of your tank top before rubbing down your body and resting on your exposed thigh. You shivered at the gentle touch.

“Still cold?” Aragorn murmured against your lips.

“Yeah. Mind if we go inside?” You asked.

“Sure.” You could tell Aragorn was disappointed, but the fact he wasn’t going to pressure you into anything tonight made your heart palpitate.

He stood up, offering a hand to help you up. You graciously accepted it, making your way into the mansion. Neither of you had let go of the others hand, so you held hands until you got to the door. He opened the door for you, and then followed you inside.

You kissed him again, one hand on his neck and the other on his chest. His jacket fell to the floor, but he didn’t seem to care. One hand held the back of your head, the other resting on your waist.

“Can you walk me to my room?” You asked, breathless from the kiss. “I don’t remember where it is.”

Aragorn blinked for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, sure. This place is huge and it’s easy to get lost.” His brow furrowed, and he looked confused.

Every so often, your lips would meet his. Both of you were guilty of initiating; both of you were guilty of wanting more. You had no idea where he was leading you. Simply put, the feeling of his lips against yours, the warmth of his body, his hands on your waist, the smell of him coaxing you into a feeling you hadn’t felt in so long, made it impossible to make a map of this place in your mind. The longing for more was unrelenting, making your heart race in your chest.

At some point, you found yourself against a wall, his knee between your legs and his lips to your neck. He used one hand to brace against the wall while the other ran from your waist to your hip to your thigh, sliding under your skirt  as it traveled up your thigh again. Your breath hitched when his fingers grazed the little bit of fabric that rested on your hip.

“Is this alright?” He asked, lust dripping from his words. You looked into his eyes, seeing just how much he was holding back -- the opposite of what you wanted him to do in this moment.

“Yes.” It came out as a gasp. You hadn’t realized you were panting until his lips were on your neck again. As if it had a mind of its own, your head tilted to the side, exposing your neck to him.

His lips found their way to yours once more, the hand that had been caressing your body slowly running up your side, cupping your breast before continuing up your body until it finally came to rest on your neck. Your hips rocked against him, one hand on his lower back trying to pull him closer and the other hand on his shoulder, moving to the back of his neck.

“We should--” He was panting, trying to catch his breath and focus. “We should get you to your room.”

“Join me?” You asked, breathless still.

“I shouldn’t,” Aragorn took your hands in his and took a step back, bringing your hands to his lips. “You need to rest.”

“Please change your mind before we get there.” You looked at him, wanting nothing more than to drop to your knees and satisfy him that way if you could not have him the way you wanted him.

He smiled softly, tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

“I mean it, Aragorn,” you assured, pressing your hips to his again. “I want you, and I know you want me, too.” You moved your hands from his grip and rested them on his chest, pressing your lips to his neck.

Instinctively, he braced against the wall again, his leg between your thighs. Your hips had a mind of their own, and started to rock on his thigh, looking for any ounce of friction that could bring satisfaction.

“Are you a virgin?” He asked.

“What?” You couldn’t seem to focus.

“I don’t want this to be your first time. I want it to be special for you.”

“I’ve known a man before,” you sighed, biting your lip and closing your eyes. “Now I want to know you, too,” you breathed on to his neck, trying not to moan at the feeling of his thigh under you.

“Let’s get you to your room,” Aragorn was breathless, and the sound of it only made you want him more, need him more, “and decide from there.”

His lips crashed against yours once more, for the briefest moment, before he nuzzled into your neck. He took your hand, pulling you from the wall before dropping it. Quickly, he walked you to your room. As if it was ritual now, the two of you would end up against a wall, bodies pressed together, lips trying to devour each other.

By the time you made it to your room, there was no more restraint. The door slammed shut as you were pushed against it. You giggled at the sound, and Aragorn grinned, pressing a finger to his lips, eyes locked on yours.

“Shhh…” His forehead pressed against yours as he chuckled. He lifted you up, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him. You were still giggling as he lowered you onto the bed, hovering over you. “How do you feel about oral?”

“I don’t know. I’ve only given it once.” It felt odd to admit it. No, you weren’t a virgin, but your experience with sex was limited. Your partner had been so vanilla the sex was almost boring, and you were already having more fun with Aragorn than you did with them.

“Only given it once?” Aragorn’s eyes sparkled with mischief, even though his eyes were darker with his lustful need. “Well then.”

The next thing you knew he was pushing your skirt up, bringing your hips to the edge of the bed, maneuvering your knees over his shoulders.

“Tell me if you want me to stop at any time, okay?” He wrapped his arms around the outside of your legs, his hands resting on your thighs.

Your breath hitched as he started to eat you out, stopping after a moment to push your panties to the side with one hand, the other still holding your leg in position. You felt him in places you didn’t know you could feel him in, and it felt divine.

You started to moan and you felt him chuckle against you. He lifted his head away, smiling at you for a moment before returning to what he was doing. You closed your eyes, one hand grabbing the comforter and the other covering your mouth. You’d never made sounds like these before, but you were too in the moment to think about it.

After what felt like not enough time, Aragorn sat back, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, grining.

“You like that, don’t you?” He was grinning like a mad man, but all you could do was nod and whine. “You want me to keep going?” he asked. You nodded again, moving your body in an attempt to coax him back to you. “Alright, alright.”

He was between your legs again, holding your panties to the side with one hand while his other slipped a finger inside you. You covered your mouth with both hands, your back arching at the new sensation. He chuckled against you, continuing to work, slowly adding fingers, until he could feel you approaching your orgasm. He picked up the pace, eager to make you cum hard, and cum hard you did. No matter how hard you’d tried to stay quiet, the moan you let loose was surely heard around the mansion.

His eyes closed, his fingers slowed, letting you ride out the waves they’d caused. His tongue continued for the same reason. He listened to your moans and pants like they were his new favorite song. Once it was all over, he carefully set your legs down from his shoulders and wiped his mouth off again.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly, kissing your knee.

“I--” It took a few moments for you to be able to think enough to speak. “Yes,” you said once you were finally able.

“I take it you enjoyed it, then?”

You looked at him, with his big, dumb, goofy grin that you’d seen so many times and looked back at the ceiling. “I did, but I--” You sighed, running your hands over your face to rub it. “I don’t want to stop there.”

“Why do we have to stop?” Aragorn asked, frowning.

“We don’t have condoms, and I’m not going to be able to blow you half as well as you ate me.”

“Well, you don’t have to do that on me, ever, unless you want to. Regardless of how ‘good’ you think you are, it doesn’t matter. All I care about is you being satisfied. If you’re not into something, you’re not into something.” You watched him as he talked. “As for condoms… There are some in the bedside table drawer.” You blinked, about to get upset when he continued. “They’re in all the rooms. Legolas host parties here sometimes while his parents are away. Things sometimes get.. Well. You know how it is at parties.”

You shook your head. You’d never been to the kind of party he was talking about.

“You don’t?” Aragorn seemed surprised. “I’ll have to take you to the next one, if you want to go, I mean. Like I said, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“No,” you said with a smile. “I’d like to do that. You know what else I’d like?”

“Hmm?” Aragorn hummed, kissing your thigh.

“For you to fuck me until I’m screaming your name.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Aragorn made quick work of getting you undressed, spending more time on pleasuring you than your last partner had. It made you feel cherished and adored and it made you embarrassed you weren’t doing the same for him. Aragorn was a giver, though, focused more on his partner’s pleasure than his own.

He trailed kisses up your belly, lifting your shirt as he went. By the time he reached your chest he was carefully pulling your shirt off. He kissed your chest, massaging your breasts before removing your bra and kissing those, too.

His mouth moved to your nipple and he suckled, kneading your other in his hand. His tongue flicked your nipple, and his other hand went from your breast down between your legs, sliding inside you once again. His pace was gentle, deliberate, until he curled his fingers and he moved faster. Increasing his pace until you were moaning. He moved to your other breast, curious if he could make you reach your orgasm with his mouth and hands once more.

Your hips started to move on their own, trying to quicken his pace, feel him deeper inside you. He obliged to the best of his abilities, only slowing down once he heard you moan and felt you pulsate around his fingers.

Aragorn pulled away from your breasts, watching you ride the waves of the pleasure he’d brought you. Once you were finished, he started to kiss your neck. Careful not to touch you with the fingers that had been inside you and were slick with your wetness. He got off the bed and you watched him, too spent to move at this point.

He grabbed a tissue from the table and wiped his fingers off, dropping the tissue onto the table for now, and grabbing a condom from the drawer and returning to the bed, kissing your neck as he undid his pants, pausing only to fully remove his clothing until he was as naked and exposed as you were.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Aragorn asked, returning to caress your face as he looked into your eyes.

“I do,” you murmured.

He kissed your neck more, pausing only to put the condom on and climb over you. Once again, he peppered kisses to your neck, slowly trailing and climbing up to your lips. The two of you kissed, comfortable and relaxed, but passionate still.

“Are you ready?” He growled against your lips, sending a shiver up your spine.

You nodded.

Aragorn positioned himself at your entrance, eyes locked on yours as he made his way inside. You gasped, an airy moan escaping you. A shiver crawled up his spine this time, and he gave you time to adjust.

You rested one hand on his back, the other on his shoulder. You dug your nails into his skin as he started to rock his hips, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder and neck — biting and suckling on the skin available.

The thrusts started slow, quickly picking up pace as you continued to adjust. He pulled away from your neck to look into your eyes. He was bracing himself with his hands on either side of you, but he shifted his weight to one so he could caress and hold your face, smiling at you as he continued to fuck you. You put a hand over his, struggling to stay quiet.

“You don’t have to stay quiet,” Aragorn assured softly. “I don’t care who hears, I want you to moan for me. I want you to—” He had to pause to groan himself. “You feel so good, Y/n.” Once he was refocused he continued what he was saying, “I want you to call my name. Let the whole world know who’s giving you pleasure tonight.”

Your hips were desperately trying to meet his, trying to force him deeper. He paused to pull out, grabbing your hips and dragging you to the edge of the bed again. He put your legs over his shoulders, aligned himself, and went back to work. You had tears in your eyes. It felt so good that you were already feeling a familiar coil in your belly.

“Aragorn,” you moaned, eyes closed. “You feel so good.”

“So do you,” he was panting, watching you as your face was smothered in pleasure. You couldn’t see it, but he was grinning, proud of himself for making you into this. “So perfect.”

“Aragorn, don’t stop,” you pleaded, hands gripping the sheets. “Go faster,” you whined, your hips bucking.

Aragorn obliged, he reached down, playing with your clit as he pounded into you. After a moment he’s topped and pulled out, and you looked at him in frustration.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he commanded, eyes dark.

You did as you were told, and he entered you again. His hands took your hips, and slammed yourself against him. He thrust and pulled you to him, groaning.

You were all but screaming his name as he pounded into you, hitting deeper than you thought he could. After what felt like not long enough, the coil in your belly snapped and your vision tunneled. You moaned his name, collapsing and your head rested on the bedding, riding the waves of pleasure that were hitting you.

You pulsating around him was enough to push him over the edge and he groaned your name, thrusting a couple more times before he bent over you, taking a moment to catch his breath. He pulled out, gently adjusting you so you weren’t on your knees anymore.

Aragorn was panting, watching you as you stared back at him, completely spent from your orgasms. He grinned, running a hand from his forehead and through his hair, pushing it back. After a moment he rolled onto his side, gently caressing your body. Your face, your side, your arms, your back — his caresses reached everywhere sighing reach.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He asked gently, his caresses back to your face.

“Only the good kind of hurt,” you admitted with a soft smile.

“I guess I shouldn’t apologize, should I?”

“No, you shouldn’t.” You closed your eyes, sighing. “I’m so tired.”

“I know, but you should at least use the restroom. I’ll get your pajamas from your bag for you, alright?” He patted your butt and sat up, chuckling as your eyes followed him but your body didn’t move. “Come on, I know you’re tired, but I don’t want you to get an infection.”

You sighed, realizing he was right, and you rolled onto your back. He leaned over, kissing your stomach. It was comforting and tender, and you realized you never wanted to be with anyone else, sexually or romantically. You wanted to be with Aragorn, and you wanted to stay with him.

He helped you up, making sure you eased yourself into standing and walking. He helped you to the bathroom before returning to the room. Some time later, he returned, holding your clothing in his hands. You felt like you needed a shower, and debated on taking a shower. Ultimately, you decided you wouldn’t, so you took your clothes from him and dressed in the bathroom. Stepping out and gently kissing him before making your way to the bedroom.

You were a bit bowlegged, but you had no complaints about that. It was so delightfully worth it, and a reminder of the pure bliss Aragorn had given you moments before. You collapsed on your bed, not moving.

You knew instinctively that the hands that were rubbing your back belonged to Aragorn, and you closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling.

“You’re exhausted,” Aragorn observed quietly, moving some of your hair out of your face. “Let’s get you tucked into bed.” His voice was so soft and tender it made you want to cry.

He was being so gentle, and this was something you’d never experienced before. He pulled back the sheets as best he could before picking you up and gently putting you down so your head rested on the pillow. He kissed your forehead before pulling the rest of the sheets and blankets down and then pulling them over you.

He kissed your forehead again, muttered a “good night,” and started to move from the bed when you grabbed his arm. Aragorn looked back at you, surprised.

“Stay with me?” You asked softly, moments from sleep. “Please? Sleep next to me.”

Aragorn looked into your eyes, unsure what to do. After a moment he smiled gently.

“Sure, I’ll stay with you tonight.”