#also the fact that she pulls out the sword from her chest just like that......... ma'am 🥵🥵🥵🥵

[niidsch]

Blue Eye Samurai || Mizu

[edenesth]

The Captain's Favourite

Pairing: captain!Hongjoong x doctor!reader

Word Count: 1.1k

'Crazy Form' Comeback Special Series | Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho |

ATEEZ Masterlist

Struggling to steady your laboured breath, you pressed a trembling hand against the stab wound beneath your chest. Blinking rapidly, you attempted to regain clarity in your vision. From what you could discern, it seemed like the injury might not involve a vital organ, offering a glimmer of reassurance.

However, the stark reality hit hard – you were the sole medical professional on board.

You were always the one attending to the health of your fellow crewmates and never the one in need of medical attention. That all changed abruptly during the unexpected ambush launched by a rival pirate crew.

They strategically targeted a crucial member of the crew before escalating the assault further. The rationale was clear – if the ship's only medical personnel was incapacitated, who would attend to the wounded? Save for the captain, you were the next most important person on the vessel.

But the enemy was also aware you were so much more than just a doctor, "There she is, Captain Hongjoong's favourite. Get her," were the chilling words that you heard before feeling the sharp pain of a dagger piercing your abdomen.

The duration of the battle became a haze, with moments of consciousness slipping in and out as you observed, through blurred vision, your crewmates fighting back fiercely to defend your ship and all the treasures within.

The fight finally ended when your captain impaled the rival leader directly in the heart. Hongjoong, visibly exhausted, let out a weary exhale as he dropped his sword, "Take him and go, the rest of you. If you don't wish to join him in the afterlife." He commanded.

The rival pirates hastily moved to remove their leader's lifeless form from your ship without having to be told twice. It took no time for Captain Hongjoong to scan the surroundings anxiously, his heart racing as he searched for you.

"Wh-where is she—"

Before he could finish the sentence, he noticed what seemed to be your boots tucked away in a corner, cleverly concealed behind barrels. The enemy had evidently gone to great lengths to ensure you wouldn't be discovered until it was too late.

Without wasting a moment, he sprinted towards you, pushing all the obstacles out of his way with newfound strength fueled by desperation. His eyes widened, feeling his heart lurch at the sight of the red staining your shirt and your pale complexion.

"No, no, no, no, no, don't you dare leave me!" Hongjoong screamed, gently pulling you into his arms, "Hey, look at me. I'm your captain, and I order you not to close your eyes."

However, no amount of commanding could mend your injuries, and he was acutely aware of that fact. Time blurred as he urgently directed his crew to transport you to the nearest town without delay. Losing you was not an option he was willing to entertain.

Drawing on his experience from observing you tend to injured crewmates countless times, the captain applied pressure and bandaged your wound to minimise the bleeding until you could receive proper medical treatment.

Upon arriving at the closest town, you were swiftly taken to a medical facility, where Hongjoong fought to catch his breath as they gently took you from his arms, "Don't worry, we'll take care of her," He gave the medical staff a firm glare, "You better."

The nurse nodded nervously, motioning for him to wait by the available bench. Everyone in the facility recognised him; it was the very place he had taken you away from many years ago. As a woman, you had been denied the chance to prove yourself despite being an apprentice there.

That changed the day Hongjoong arrived, bloodied and in need of help.

With all the doctors unavailable, you, the only trainee present, seized the opportunity to showcase your skills by treating the pirate captain.

While he rested after you tended to his injury, Hongjoong overheard a conversation between you and your superior. Rather than receiving praise for your competent work, you were berated for not adhering to the rules and taking matters into your own hands.

Enraged by what he heard, he proposed taking you in as the crew doctor. Despite being aware of his pirate status, you agreed because no one had recognised and acknowledged your skills the way he did.

As time passed, you'd grown to harbour feelings for one another. Though neither of you openly admitted to them, the entire crew was well aware of the captain's undeniable affection for you. They often wondered when Hongjoong would muster the courage to confess.

You were used to him always watching out for you; he would go to great lengths, even pretending to be unwell just to stay near you. He'd reprimand other crewmates for inconveniencing you with their minor issues; a total hypocrite himself. It was hard for you to not realise the fact that he was clearly favouring you, especially when everyone aboard has been calling you 'the captain's favourite' since day one.

Except he would always be in denial whenever teased about it, despite his actions proving completely otherwise.

Now, waiting anxiously, he regretted not revealing his feelings sooner. The thought of you potentially dying without knowing his love haunted him. Reflecting on missed opportunities, he questioned why he hadn't uttered those three words earlier. What was holding him back? What was he so afraid of?

After what felt like an eternity, he was finally allowed to see you. Entering the room where you rested, he held his breath until relief flooded over him at the sight of your chest rising and falling steadily. He sat beside you, gently holding your hand to his face and pressing his lips against your palm, "Oh, thank god, you're okay."

Tears streamed down his face silently, oblivious to the fact that you'd awakened to his sobs. You smiled weakly, moving your fingers to wipe his wet cheeks, "Who would've thought? The mighty Captain Hongjoong is crying for me."

His head shot up immediately, a tearful chuckle escaping him and he nodded, "That's right. Do you see the power you have over me?" Taking a deep breath, he decided it was now or never, "I love you so much, you know that? You mean the world to me."

You nodded, "I love you too, captain. Thought you'd never admit it."

Leaning in, he kissed your lips softly, "I'll tell you I love you every day now if I have to. And I refuse to let anything like this happen again. You're moving to my quarters at once."

If you thought he was joking, you were mistaken. Things were about to change drastically. Consider yourself promoted from crew doctor to the captain's most valuable treasure, as if you weren't already.

Now that we have Prince San, General Seonghwa, and Captain Hongjoong, I'm still contemplating what other roles to assign to the rest of the members.

Anyway, really hope you're all enjoying these imagines. Thanks for reading, and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[janovavalen]

✧DON’T LEAVE ME || luke castellan x ares fem!reader

summary: when percy gotten back to camp and found out who the true lightning thief was, he was quick to tell y/n who knew what she had to do.

word count: 1645

warnings: angst, breaking up, luke begging for y/n to join his side…no happy ending (only a part one)

when percy had arrived back to camp, needles to say he made a reputation quicker than anyone did before. not only did he kill a minotaur with its own horn, but he’d managed to finish his first quest in returning the lightning bolt, met four gods and managed to stop a war from happening.

not only did he do that…but he’d managed to find out it wasn’t clarisse who stole the lightning bolt…no, someone he would have never expected at all. and when he found out, y/n was the first to know.

the whole camp in fact knew about y/n and luke. the two were inseparable. since the moment they stepped into camp together they’d never left each other's side. some campers said they would see them holding hands, making out, or just hanging out every minute of every day.

when percy knew he had to tell y/n, he knew what she’d say.

walking into her cabin as she sharpened some of her swords, she looked up at the noise of the floorboards creeping under his foot.

‘oh, percy…what are you doing here?’ she placed the sword down onto the bed and stood up to percy who walked very slowly. she was confused to see him acting like this, like he’d done something wrong.

‘percy what’s going on? did a camper steal your blueberries or something?’ she teased while percy stayed straight faced and quiet. feeling a bit tense he cleared his throat before talking.

‘uhm…y/n there’s something very important i need you to know…something serious…but i don’t want you lashing out. so please just listen to me okay?’ percy talked lowly and slow while y/n nervously laughed and nodded her head in understanding.

‘when we were out on the quest, i’d learned some things about who stole the lightning bolt—‘

‘yeah you said it was my sister—clarisse, right?’

‘yes i know what i said but. seeing that when i got back and chiron didn’t take her out of the camp or get her in trouble…it got me thinking. when me and grover were heading to hades castle, the shoes luke gave us started to pull us to where kronos is held…and when we found clues and hints—‘

‘it was luke…wasn’t it.’ y/n shakily asked while also hoping it wasn’t him at all and this was just some very big mistake. but even percy didn’t deny was when she got her answer.

sighing heavily while closing her eyes she nodded to percy with the understanding of his words and knowledge.

‘luke had mentioned he wanted to get back at the gods for a very long time for what they’ve done and one day he came back to camp acting different…he had something to hide and i didn’t ask or want to know because it wasn’t my place but one day he told me things would change for the better or worse…i just, never thought he’d steal the bolt…’ y/n looked at the ground with her eyes watering with tears while trying to hold them from falling in front of percy.

out of all of the ares kids y/n was probably more of a athena or apollo child out of ares. she was much kinder, open with her emotions—sometimes—-and didn’t feel the overbearing need to be better than everyone—in some things.

she was hard on percy only when it came to things she knew he could do…she was difficult to understand because she kept her thoughts closed off. she was very stern, stubborn, confident and sometimes cocky. but she never let that get in the way of how she was as an individual. she let her siblings go after their father but she? wanted to be more like her mom.

standing in front of percy who happened to somehow grow a bit taller over his quest, the two of them being eye to eye. y/n felt her heart pounding rapidly against her chest.

‘i’ll…i’ll be right back. don’t go anywhere. go to the celebration and stay there with annabeth and grover, okay?’ she instituted percy who nodded slowly but let her leave.

ㆍ୨୧ㆍ

as y/n had been walking into the forest to clear her mind, she was unknowingly followed by luke who had caught her form and tried to call out to her only for her to not answer.

he had been watching her as she placed her hand against head—she’d been thinking of something important that was stressing her—she stopped and took a deep breath—she was hesitant—her shoulders shaking a bit he knew she was crying.

‘y/n?’ he mumbled loud enough for her to hear. turning around to see luke, she inhaled sharply and cleared her throat.

‘luke, hey. what are you doing here? i thought you were going to the celebration?’ she asked. straightening her back to come off as she didn’t just almost cry in the middle of the forest as embarrassing that would be.

‘oh…yeah, i was i just saw you and tried to call out for you but you never answered so…’ he lightly smiled while she nodded her head slowly. seeing through him and seeing through that smile that almost for percy, grover and annabeth killed.

‘yeah, well i just wanted to be alone for a while…so you can go—‘

‘no, i’ll stay here with you, and we can talk about whatever is bothering you—‘

‘no luke! leave, leave me alone okay? i don’t want to talk to you right now okay? please…please just leave me alone’ y/n places her hands together as a pleading motion while closing her eyes.

luke sadly looked at y/n with his heart being pulled into different directions. he was hurt that she wanted him to leave, he was hurt she didn’t want to see him, he was hurt she wanted to be left alone and he was confused as to why.

‘what did i do?’ he calmly asked. his sad eyes watching y/n who had inhaled sharply with annoyance.

‘luke…leave me alone—‘

‘no! why? why don’t you want to talk to me? why don’t you want to be with me—what did i do? why can’t we just talk—‘

‘because you stole the lightning bolt and almost killed my friends!’ y/n yelled on the top of her lungs. the anger held in her eyes had resembled her father so much he almost couldn’t tell them apart.

his heart dropped when she said what she had said and he almost lost it. how did she know? why does she know? who told her this—where did she hear this?

‘but clarisse—percy, annabeth and grover said it was her why would it be me…’ he watched her eyes as she rolled them and placed her hands over her face to bring her anger down to a reasonable level.

‘luke…you’ve told me you always wanted to get back at the gods for a while now. you said one day they’d see us, one day the world would change? percy has met hades who’s almost told him everything he needed to hear…you, are a liar—‘

‘no…’ luke shook his slowly while slight tears welled in his eyes. the fireworks behind the two of them showing red behind y/n and a blue behind luke.

‘yes luke! you lied! you almost got people killed and you almost killed kids at that!’

like she didn't quit almost quickly while y/n shook her head in anger. her eyes burning with tears as his did as well.

seeing there was no way out of this he sighed and gave up—‘i didn’t know he’d give them to grover to wear…’ luke helplessly sighed while the tears in his eyes grew bigger almost dropping from their holding stage.

y/n felt her heart clutch and her eyes well as she heard his words. suppressing any words to come from her mouth that might cause any other trouble she closed her eyes as her nose scrunched in anger.

‘y/n please—‘

‘no! you can’t say that and expect me to trust you luke—i’ll never trust you again! i’ll never put my faith into you! you have lied and you have lost! you don’t belong here anymore luke go!’ she yelled her anger boiling to the surface. that sweet side of her mom is no longer present and replaced with her father.

‘y/n…you don’t mean that…you can’t mean that; don’t you understand it was a mistake—‘

‘what a mistake was believing the lies you’ve told me for years on end and letting you sit on a throne in my life.’ y/n mutters as luke stepped in front of her. when she saw this she was quick it draw her sword as it touched the tip of his adam’s apple. looking down at it, luke gulped a bit and looked into y/n’s eyes to see no softness in them.

‘y/n please…please, please, please don’t do this. don’t leave me alone—your all i have!’

‘stop it luke! just stop! i can’t believe what you say anymore! you almost hurt the ones i love and the one you call family—‘

‘i never meant to do that! can’t you understand im trying to make this a better place…a better world for all of us..for you…’ he trailed off; his tear dropping and rolling down his cheek as y/n’a held no emotion, only anger written on her face.

breathing heavily, y/n let her eye twitch before letting the worse of her take over, aggressively pushing her sword down as it cut a bit of luke’s stomach. wincing in pain as he looked up at her and down at the open wound; he looked at her once more with tears in his eyes to recognize a y/n he’s never met before.

before he could say anything was when percy arrived.

[angelltheninth]

Is it alr if i request Mizu x a strong female reader who could be like a shinobi and the reader is teasing Mizu while their sparring? Idk if that made sense 😭

I was thinking of making a headcanon about teasing Mizu so I can do both here.

Pairing: Mizu x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, teasing, kissing, sparring, distractions

A/N: I was thinking a bit about Yuzuriha from Hell's Paradise when I wrote this.

Sparring is a form of a date for the two of you

You do this daily, mostly at sunset because you claimed it's more romantic that way

Mizu tried to act she didn't care about romance but she always hesitated to let go of your hand when it was time to spar

She will insist that she's not distracted by your outfit

Because why is it that you always loosen your clothes, just enough to reveal your chest

"You cheater." She complains while she unsheaths her sword and takes a stance. It's impossible to keep her eyes away from your breasts. It's funny how easily she can ignore those who flaunt and throw themselves at her but with you she's the one who can't get a hold of herself.

"It's not my fault you're so easily distracted." It absolutely was, because before you she wasn't like this. There were these fleeting feelings of desire but they were never directed at anyone in particular. "Oh, am I a bad influence on the honorable samurai? I'm so sorry." You cooed as you made no effort to hide your chest.

Honorable? If she ever was she's not anymore. Not when you're around at least.

Mizu doesn't think it's fair that you can move so easily while being so flirty with her

And it's not only with your body but also with your words, making her ears burn from the things you've put into her head

There is a time and place for sparring and for other forms of pleasure, it's so annoying that it blurs for her when you're the one she's sparring with

She will never let you know how excited she gets when you pull her down on top of you by using your legs wrapped around her hips

There's never been a time when she's been more grateful to not be born with male biology because there would be no way for her to hide her excitement

"Think you can get out of this one Mizu?" The question was completely irrelevant to her. She didn't want to get out of this. In fact she would prefer for this to last longer.

"I can." Her hands ran up your thighs, her hips rocking forward to press against yours, not to try to push you away but to prompt you to take action and do something about riling her up, "But it appears I don't want to."

You wrap her arms around her neck to pull into a kiss, swallowing her pleased sighs. Since you riled her up so much you really should do something about it. You can't really pretend that it wasn't partially your goal.

[hellodarling1357]

Battle Wounds (Cassian x Reader)

I didn’t realise how busy Christmas would be but I’m finally back on track with finishing/starting some of my WIPs and requests.

This is just a reader-insert / little rewrite of chapters 56 - 61 of ACOWAR

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 3,600

Standing along the edge of the field of tents, you watched alongside Feyre, Mor, and Nesta as the battle raged across the floor of the valley below.

Your eyes were keenly fixed on the armoured figure of your mate, breath quickening with each clash of a sword and shout of pain as Cassian led and held the lines of soldiers fighting against Hybern’s forces.

As much as you hated him being in the thick of it, you couldn’t deny the fact that he was damn good at what he did. It was like a dance, the way he moved with and against both your own and the enemy soldiers, never faltering as he somehow managed to keep an eye on every stage of the battle.

You cursed under your breath at Keir’s lack of control over his own soldiers, forcing Cassian’s attention away from what was going on around him as he roared above the sounds of battle for Keir to fix the lines.

You could sense Mor’s growing frustration as she shifted from foot to foot from where she stood on the other side of Feyre. That feeling of helplessness and being ordered to stay up here, to protect Feyre and her sisters, while she could be raging a battle of her own below ran through her.

The sound of Mor’s groan as Keir’s forces caved in response to Hybern cavalry surrounding them was a distant sound as you watched on in horror as Cassian leapt into the air and flew straight into the middle of the onslaught. The stream of arrows and spears just barely missing him as his Siphons dimmed. You furiously tugged on the bond, begging him to get out, but you knew it was no good as he unleashed himself on Hybern, further ignoring Rhys’ roared orders to fall back.

You barely registered Feyre squeezing your hand, breath stuck in your chest, as you watched Azriel lunge into the fray, desperately fighting his way towards Cassian who was completely surrounded. The red flare of your mate’s Siphons only allowing him a moment of reprieve as he panted in the midst of a circle of dead soldiers before more moved forward to take their place.

Too fixated on the battle and Cassian’s sputtering Siphons, you were oblivious to Feyre pulling Mor aside. But you quickly caught sight of your friend’s stream of golden hair appearing beside Azriel as they edged closer and closer to Cassian who was beginning to slow in his assault against a Hybern captain.

You whipped around, tearing your eyes away from your mate for the first time since the battle started. Nesta was still standing feet away from you, eyes frantically moving across the battlefield as if she didn’t know where to look.

But Feyre…

Turning on the spot you scanned the space around you but found no trace of your friend.

You raced towards the sea of tents, senses heightened as you tried to track her down; Rhys would be furious enough at Mor for abandoning her post in favour of the fight, let alone when he realised you had been too distracted by your own mate to notice that Feyre had also left your spot overlooking the valley.

Heartbeat quickening, you frantically searched tent after tent, but there, exiting the one Elain resided in…

You winnowed towards her, grabbing hold of Feyre’s arm, not realising it was the exact moment she also decided to winnow, taking you alongside her as she headed towards the Middle.

*****

“Feyre, what are you doing?”

Still breathless from the unexpected journey, you furiously stared at her before taking in your surroundings, quickly zeroing in on your mating bond to make sure nothing had happened to Cassian in the minutes you had been gone.

“Y/N,” she seemed just as shocked. “I… I have a plan, I think it will help but you need to go.”

A disbelieving laugh left your throat but your words were quickly swallowed down as an ancient, rasping voice filled the clearing.

“Have you come to kill me, or to beg for my help once again, Feyre Archeron?”

Shooting you an apologetic grimace, Feyre turned towards the Suriel.

***

Alert and on guard, you stood in silence as Feyre spoke with the Suriel. Your mind raced as you tried to be present and focus on what was occurring in front of you, but you couldn’t stop yourself from fixating on the bond and the adrenaline, laced with fatigue, that raced through it.

“…Tell the silver-eyed messenger that the answer lies on the second and penultimate pages of the Book. Together they hold the key.”

You tuned back in with a blink, aware you had missed the conversation but still daring to ask, “The key to what?”

The Suriel studied you closely, causing a chill to run down your back, before replying, “The answer to what you need to stop Hy—”

But the sudden spray of black blood that covered both you and Feyre as the arrow made impact with the Suriel’s chest had you pulling out the Illyrian sword Cassian had given you as you scanned the darkness of the trees for the assailant.

More arrows shot through the trees, causing the Suriel to stumble and scream, and then a lilting female voice crooned, “Why does it talk to you, Feyre, when it would not even deign to speak with me?”

Ianthe.

It had been centuries since you had last seen the High Priestess, but the sight of her still had your blood boiling. The encounter you stumbled across involving her and Cassian, so soon after you had been mated, had not ended well for the blonde haired fae. The fact that she had tried similar tactics on Rhysand and Azriel, only furthering the anger coursing through you.

“Y/N, what a pleasant surprise. How is that gorgeous mate of yours?” But her attention was already focused back on Feyre, prattling on and on about Hybern and Tamlin and how she had captured the Suriel with a sickly satisfied smirk.

“I should have slit your throat that night in the tent.” Was all Feyre deigned to give as a response.

An arrow shot through from one of Hybern’s soldiers which you quickly deflected, edging closer with your blade angled, ready to pounce.

Ianthe’s face tightened as she glowered at Feyre. “You’ll find you want to reconsider how you speak to me. I’ll be your best advocate in Hybern.”

“I suppose you’ll have to catch me first,” And with that, Feyre was hurtling into the woods, Ianthe close on her trail.

You took the momentary distraction as a chance to engage both guards.

They smirked at you, edging closer as though tracking their prey. To your delight, it seemed they had no idea who you were. Had no idea that you had trained alongside Illyrian warriors for centuries, that your mate, the General of the Night Court, had overseen your training to an almost gruelling manner until he was satisfied that you could hold your own.

So you smirked right back as you leapt towards them, blade raised and ready.

The fight didn’t last long.

*****

After ensuring the two Hybern soldiers were well and truly dead, you raced after Feyre but the trail blurred and darkened the further in you got, causing your sense of panic to rise as you let out a frustrated yell.

The silence of the woods was abruptly broken by the sound of an unending scream. Without a second thought you raced towards it, hoping that it wasn’t Feyre and that you hadn’t been too late.

But there she was, flying through the trees towards you as she grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back, racing towards the clearing.

“Feyre…,” You gasped as you caught your breath. “What was that?”

“I figured I owed the Weaver an apology and decided that acquainting her with Ianthe would suffice.”

You were both stunned and impressed by your friend’s quick thinking but Feyre was already heading towards where the Suriel lay, kneeling down beside it and grasping its bony hand in her own.

Staying a respectful distance away, you watched on in silence, tears filling your eyes as you watched the Suriel’s chest stop moving, Feyre weeping over it. Stepping closer, you put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Feyre…” You started, stopping as your senses heightened in on another presence.

You raised your blade and cautiously turned, letting out a sigh of relief when you found Helion hurriedly striding towards you.

“Come. It is not safe. I’m here to bring you back, both of you.” A panicked look in your direction had your brows furrowing but you pushed it aside as you helped him pull Feyre to her feet, watching on as Helion’s flame burned the cloak-covered Suriel to a pile of ash before taking his hand and allowing the warm light to whisk you away, straight into Rhys’ war-tent.

*****

You knew something was wrong the moment you took in Rhys’ pale features, splattered with blood that was not his own. He pulled Feyre into a crushing embrace before fixing you with a heavy look that told you enough.

“No…” You felt yourself begin to hyperventilate. “Rhys, is he…? Where is he?”

The encounter with Ianthe had distracted you enough that you failed to miss the disturbance that flowed down the bond. But Cassian couldn’t be dead, you would know if he was dead.

Your body started to shake as you stared back at Rhys, seeing nothing.

Then you were moving. Racing out of the tent, following the faint trace of your mate that the bond provided.

A sob escaped you as you shoved through the tent’s entrance. Mor and Azriel, standing in front of the cot, blocked your view of who lay atop it.

“Y/N—“ Mor’s tearful voice was a distant echo as she reached for you, but you pushed past, falling to your knees beside the cot as you took in the sight of Cassian, covered in both mud and blood, unconsciousness not allowing any escape of pain as his face contorted under the healer’s glowing hands, breathing laboured and weak.

There was no chance of stopping the vomit that violently urged up your throat once you noticed the too-deep slice curving up Cassian’s navel to the bottom of his sternum. All you could see was Cassian, pale and bloody, not giving you space to even be aware of your sobs and the violent shaking that coursed through your body.

The healer kept working, someone knelt beside you, pulling you into their arms, you didn’t know who, didn’t know how much time had passed as you sobbed, and shook, and stared at the male in front of you who meant everything to you, who you couldn’t imagine life without, who now seemed as though he were mere moments from death.

The gaping slice across Cassian’s middle grew smaller and smaller, the blood easing to a slight trickle. Still, you refused to look away, even as the commotion of Rhys and Feyre rejoining you slightly pulled you away from your racing thoughts.

“Is he—is he going to—“ Feyre’s unfinished question loomed, forcing you to momentarily drag you bloodshot eyes away from your mate’s body to the healer who had been tirelessly working on him.

“No. He’ll be sore for a few days, though.”

You started to cry again, not sure if you had truely stopped in the first place. This time it was Azriel who knelt beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder as Feyre, again, asked, “How?”

“He wouldn’t wait for us,” Mor said flatly. “He kept charging—trying to re-form the line. One of their commanders engaged him. He wouldn’t turn away. By the time Az got there, he was down.”

Azriel’s face was stone-cold, even as his hazel eyes fixed unrelentingly upon the slowly healing wound.

Blood rushed to your head, blocking out Mor’s questioning of where Feyre had gone, and why you had needed to chase after her.

The sudden fluttering of Cassian’s eyes had you loosening a breath as you hurled even closer to his side, carefully grasping his calloused and scarred hand, watching unblinkingly as he finally opened his eyes and let out a groan of pain.

“That’s what you get,” the healer chided, gathering her supplies, “for stepping in front of a sword.”

She frowned at him. “Make sure he rests tonight and tomorrow.” A brief nod in your direction, “I know better than to insist on a third day after that, but try not to leap in front of a blade anytime soon.”

Cassian just blinked rather dazedly at her before slowing turning his head to face you.

“How bad?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“How bad was your injury,” Rhys said mildly, “or how badly did we have our asses kicked?”

Cassian blinked again. Slowly. Turning his gaze away from you and towards his friend. As if whatever sedative he’d been given still held sway.

“To answer the second question,” Rhys went on, Mor and Azriel backing away a step or two as something sharpened in his voice, “we managed. Keir took some heavy hits, but … we won. Barely. To answer the first …” Rhys bared his teeth. “Don’t you ever pull that kind of shit again.”

The glaze wore off of Cassian’s eyes as he heard the challenge, the anger, and tried to sit up, hand tightly squeezing yours at the pain he felt. He hissed, scowling down at the red, angry slice on his chest.

“Your guts were hanging out, you stupid prick,” Rhys snapped. “Az held them in for you.”

You did a double take at that, flinching once you finally noted the blood - Cassian’s blood- caking Azriel’s hands.

“I’m a soldier,” Cassian said flatly. “It’s part of the job.”

“I gave you an order to wait,” Rhys growled. “You ignored it.”

You felt your breath quicken again, heart skipping a beat at the fight playing out in front of you, your own anger at his recklessness beginning to appear now that you knew for certain that Cassian was going to be okay

“The line was breaking,” Cassian retorted. “Your order was bullshit.”

Rhys braced his hands on either side of Cassian’s legs and snarled in his face, “I am your High Lord. You don’t get to disregard orders you don’t like.”

Cassian sat up this time, swearing at the pain lingering in his body, your arm quickly wrapping around him to offer some support. “Don’t you pull rank because you’re pissed off—”

“You and your damned theatrics on the battlefield nearly got you killed.” And even as Rhys spat the words—that was panic in his eyes. His voice. “I’m not pissed. I’m furious.”

“So you’re allowed to be mad about our choices to protect you—and we’re not allowed to be furious with you for your self-sacrificing bullshit?”

Rhys just stared at him.

Cassian stared right back.

“You could have died,” was all Rhys said, his voice raw.

“So could you.”

Another beat of silence—and in its wake, the anger shifted.

Rhys said quietly, “Even after Hybern… I can’t stomach it.”

And the way Rhys spoke, the way Cassian leaned forward, wincing again, as he let go of your hand and gripped Rhys’s shoulder…

The others quickly left, you hesitated, torn between letting them talk and remaining by your mate’s side.

Rhys’ voice broke through, deciding the matter for you, “Stay, you being here will help.”

You silently remained by Cassian’s side as they spoke, brother to brother. Still in shock by the state you had found your mate in, the previous conversation was only just catching up to you. And with the realisation of what Cassian’s excuse was, as well as his apparent lack of care for his own safety, you were overcome with white hot anger and finally snapped.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Both males abruptly looked at you, silenced by your first words since seeing Cassian bleeding out on the medi-cot.

“Y/N—“

“No. Are you fucking kidding? I’m a soldier. It’s part of the job,” You mocked. “Well what about your job outside of this war. As a friend, a brother, a mate? Did you ever once think about anyone else, about me, when you decided to jump at the first chance of playing hero?”

Rhys remained silent during your outburst, wishing he didn’t have to witness the fight that was about to break.

Stiffly turning to face you, Cassian observed you as you took in a few deep breaths, eyes still wide from panic and fear.

“Y/N,” he said slowly, grasping your hand in his. “I’m General of the Night Court, I can’t just sit back and do nothing while our soldiers take the fall—“

But you were shaking your head at him, vision blurring through a sea of tears.

“I know, trust me, I know, Cassian,” You let out a humourless laugh. “But you promised. You promised you would stay here, with me. Cauldron, we even spoke about properly trying for a child after all this was over. And then two seconds later you’re throwing yourself into the middle of it and almost dying in the process.”

Rhys silently left the tent, any words he had saved up to say to his brother as a way of reprimanding would hold zero weight compared to what you had to offer.

Despite himself, Rhys couldn’t help but smile fondly at the idea of the two of you having a child. He knew your plans had been put on hold after everything that happened whilst he was trapped Under the Mountain; and knowing this now, he swore to himself to subtly relieve Cassian of some of his more demanding and dangerous duties. It was the least he could if it meant the happiness of two of his closest friends.

Ignoring the pain that ricocheted through him at the slightest of movements, Cassian turned to properly face you as he guided you to sit beside him on the cot.

“Sweetheart, all I could think about was you,” he gently cupped your face, wiping the tears away. “You heard Rhys, we were so close to losing everything today, and if that had happened…” he took in a deep breath to collect himself. “If we had lost, and I hadn’t done everything in my power to prevent it, I couldn’t live with myself knowing that whatever happened afterwards, what could have happened to you, if Hybern won… It would’ve been my fault.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, gently caressing his thumb over your cheek.

“You almost died, Cass.” Your voice was barely a whisper as you grasped his hand.

“I’m not going to apologise for trying to protect you. If me getting hurt meant any of us getting a shot at a future after this, then it was worth it.”

“A future without you in it isn’t worth it to me.”

“Y/N—“

“No, Cassian, please. I thought I had lost you. How would you feel if it was me where you are right now?”

Cassian let out a sigh, unable to fathom how much seeing you split down the middle would tear him apart.

Gritting his teeth in pain, he moved over to make more room on the cot before pulling you into his side. You snuggled closer into him, cautious of not jostling him too much as you eyed his injury.

The pair of you lay side by side in silence, Cassian’s breathing eventually evening out and growing heavier as he drifted off to the feel of your fingers running through his hair.

Still feeling on edge and needing to do something, you detached yourself from his arms, careful not to wake him. Scanning the tent, your eyes landed on a few clean cloths and a bowl of water that the healer had left behind.

With a sigh, you started to carefully wipe the blood away from Cassian’s body, the bowl of clean water fast becoming a murky red mess.

Cassian stirred once you reached his wound, your fingers gently dabbing away the caked blood, leaving the newly healed split across his middle as the only evidence that he had been injured in the first place.

You felt his eyes on you as you finished cleaning him up, letting out a sign before finally lifting your eyes to meet his.

“I’m still so mad at you.”

“I know you are.” The slight tug on the bond you shared left you with a weary smile as you placed the dirty cloths in a heap beside the bed before lying down beside him again.

You laced your hand with his as he murmured, “I think I know a few ways I can make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, a light laugh escaping your lips.

“Yeah I can think of a few ways too, starting with you not acting like a baby for the next week and actually staying in bed.”

“The healer only said two days.”

“Yeah, well, I’m saying seven.” The look you fixed him with told him there would be no changing your mind.

He let out a huff of a laugh as he brought your hand up to his lips, placing a soft kiss to it before holding it against his chest.

“Fine. But only if you’re staying in bed with me.”

The shit eating grin that lit up his face had you shaking your head, your only response was a flick to his nose followed by an overwhelming surge of love that flowed down the bond.

[imastrangeone98]

Enough

(A/N: yes to blade, yes to everything about him 🩵)

WARNING: extremely ooc!blade cuz stoic men are hard to write, fem!reader, smut smut, minors get the hell out of here or I'll smack u to Heaven and back; more plot than there should be tbh; also y/n lowkey being the stellaron hunters' favorite member XD

Being alone with Blade in the hideout is not how you wanted to spend your day, yet here you are.

Agonizing over the lack of Kafka and Silver Wolf (your two greatest- and only- friends in the Stellaron Hunters) helps distract you as you sweep the floor of the Hunters' newly occupied hideout.

It also helps keep your mind off your unexpected companion... the man you've been trying to avoid for the past few weeks.

It's not that you didn't like him- quite the opposite, in fact. Your feelings for the broody swordsman were... complicated. Of course he was visibly attractive, as well as emotionally volatile; you'd be blind to not notice it.

But you grew to enjoy seeing his reactions to the smallest of things- from his disgust at the tomatoes in his sandwich, to the smallest curl of his lip at the sight of a whetstone for his sword, to the faintest glimpse of peace in his eyes when he watches the sunset.

You grew to love him. How could you not fall for the sensitive soul who secretly fed the stray kittens near the base, who joined Silver Wolf on the couch to watch her play games, who quietly thanked you every time you patched up the wounds his healing factor could not, even though it was your job?

Your heart blooms when you're near him. But you know better than to think he feels the same way.

Kafka had told you of his reasons for joining the Hunters: a thirst for revenge against all who wronged him, and the undying desire for eternal sleep. His path of vengeance meant no room for any unnecessary things, you included.

You will never be a part of Blade's world.

So you keep your feelings under lock and key, choosing to ignore the fluttering of your heart whenever he helps you with the dishes, when he silently joins you on your trips to the market for groceries, even when he hands you a small souvenir from whatever planet his mission was in.

"Bladie certainly likes to give you special treatment," Kafka had teased you once as she helped blow dry your hair. "Any more of his flirting, and I might just have to fight him for attention~"

"Oh please, be serious, Kaf." You rolled your eyes at the thought. "Blade would never be interested in romance, especially with a dime-a-dozen medic like me. Besides, have you seen the way he looks at that bracer?"

"Well, if he doesn't want you, I don't mind picking up the slack~"

You smacked her for that. But even though she hadn't used her Spirit Whisper on you that day, her words stayed in your mind long after the conversation was over.

Her voice echoed in the back of your mind after that night, when you had encountered him broken and lost in the middle of the night, aching from pains you could not understand. You had taken him in your arms, unable to watch him suffer, and sung him to slumber, watching as his eyes slowly drifted closed as he relaxed in your hold.

Putting him to bed was no easy task, but it was when you were about to pull away that your problem truly began.

"Stay," Blade whispered, soft and drowsy- a sound you didn't think him capable of. It left you speechless, even as he pawed at you to pull you closer to him. "Stay here tonight."

The warning to stay away should have rung in your mind. But when he gazed at you with wide, almost desperate eyes, you could not say no. And so you stayed that night, his head resting on your chest, falling asleep to the sound of your racing heartbeat.

You shouldn't have. Because now you're stuck in this situation, trapped in a corner, with the man haunting your thoughts hovering above you, a dangerous gleam in his eye that sends a shiver down your spine.

"C- can I help you?" you squeak out, a bead of sweat on your forehead. "I'll get started on dinner pretty soon-"

"You are very difficult to get a hold of." Blade cuts you off, leaning closer to you, nose brushing against yours. "Now you have nowhere to go... and no one to hide you."

You gulp. Aeons, you wish Kafka and Silver Wolf were here right now.

"You've been avoiding me. Why?"

Your cheeks feel hot at his question. Is he really that daft? (No, he isn't. He just likes seeing you flustered; but you don't have to know that just yet.)

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you splutter. He stares at you, exasperated. "I'm treating you just as I always do!"

"...You're terrible at lying." He sighs and finally leans away from you; you hadn't realized you were holding your breath. But you're still not off the hook, because he slides a finger under your chin and tilts your head to maintain your gaze on him. "Since you're not willing to be honest, I will. You disappearing in the morning wasn't particularly... enjoyable for me. And here I thought we were getting close."

Blade lightly scratches your chin, and aeons, if your face wasn't hot before, it's burning now.

"If you didn't like me, you could have just said so. I thought-" He stops himself, but his wide eyes speak the words he cannot vocalize.

Your heart threatens to burst. You have tell yourself it's not real. There's no way this is real. Blade does not like you. Blade is not capable of love. He desires only revenge against the many who wronged him, against the one who holds the other half of his bracer, the key to his heart.

Blade does not love you. He loves only what you briefly gave him because he lacked so much of it in his mysterious past that he instinctively reached out to the first person who gave him scraps of what he deserved.

And that knowledge breaks your heart.

"...You don't know what you're saying," you say stiffly, your grip on the broom tightening. "You must be confused. When Kafka returns, I'll ask her to use her Spirit-"

"Stop," he growls, pressing against you once more. He's so heavy he nearly squeezes the air from your lungs. "I don't know what you're thinking, but that's enough."

Aeons, you're insufferable. Yet he can't stay mad at you, not when your expressions are so cute. He gently cradles your face, fingers lightly tracing your cheeks, the corners of your eyes, your soft lips.

He wants to kiss you. He wants to know if you taste as sweet as you look. If your voice is just as sweet singing his name as you sing your songs that soothe his soul, his mara, better than any of your healing balms or even Kafka's Spirit Whisper.

"Why won't you let me in, you stubborn woman?" Blade whispers, eyeing your confusion, your hurt that he doesn't understand. "What pains you so, that you won't even look at me?"

You grit your teeth. How can you tell him that what pains you is the very thing that brings his immortal life meaning? That you're just trying to make his life easier by not interfering with his plans with your own, temporary issues?

But nothing comes out except a half-hearted, "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

"Bullshit," he hisses. "Everything you do concerns me. Your existence concerns me."

Your hands squeeze into fists. "And why's that? Am I that much of an inconvenience to you?!"

His lips curl into a pained smile. "Like you wouldn't imagine. You make me think of things that I don't need..." He glances down at his feet for a brief, long second, then looks back at you. His eyes are aglow with something you can't describe. "That I don't deserve to think of."

For as much as you want to harden your heart, Blade's words make your attempts meaningless. It's so full of fear and longing that you want to reach out and touch him, hold him close to your heart and never let him go.

You swallow, somehow feeling more nervous than before at what you're about to ask. But you want to know. You need to know, for your poor heart. "...And what is it that you think you don't deserve?"

His gaze softens. Blade leans down once more, and you feel his breath on your lips. He smells nice, you think hazily. Suddenly, you feel overwhelmed, too hyper aware of everything- his scent, the gentle brush of his fingers on your chin, the flecks of gold in his eyes.

"You," he whispers, and softly presses his lips to yours.

He's warm against you. His arms are strong as they wrap around you, pulling you into his firm chest. Before you're fully swept into the storm that is Blade, a funny thought flits through your mind: for a man with such a sharp name, he feels so warm in your arms.

He groans against your mouth, hands moving to your cheeks, coaxing your lips open to slide his tongue inside, feeling every part of you. You're so soft, so sweet, so perfect- he swears that you must have been crafted by the aeons themselves to fit his taste, to his hold. He has to fight against every cell in his body to not rip your clothes off and take you against the filthy walls. As badly as he wants to taste you properly, he needs to move this elsewhere. You deserve better than the cold corner he trapped you in. (And if Kafka shows up early, he doesn't want her to witness the filthy things he wants to do to you. But the marks he'll leave... That's fair game.)

When he finally pulls away, you're left breathless, chest heaving, and your lips tingle with the heat of his own. Blade nuzzles against your neck, and leaves kisses down your throat.

"Come on," he whispers against your skin, and tugs at your sleeve. "Stay with me tonight."

It feels too good to be true. You should be more suspicious. Blade does not love. Blade does not care for love. He does not love you.

He doesn't...

But he smiles at you- a soft, innocent smile that tugs at the corners of his eyes- and you fall into him, helpless.

When he offers you his hand, you don't hesitate to take it.

Maybe you're too hypnotized by him, but time melts into one hazy fog of memories. He's gentle- leading you to his room, lying you down on his bed, peeling off your clothes, piece by piece, until you're left bare and wanting. He stares at you hungrily, but he makes no move to devour you just yet.

He's slow, too. Watching him remove his garments- untying his belts and vest, sliding off his glove, unwrapping his bandages- it was torture. You huff, displeased, and reach out to him to lend a hand, but he lightly smacks it away, a playful smirk on his face.

"Patience," he teases, "and I'll give you what you want... and more."

To drive his words home, he moves even slower. By the time he's kicked off his shoes and pants, you've given up on being patient and paw at his boxers, much to his amusement. His cock finally springs free, and you gulp- it's big. Thick at the base, you wonder how it'll fit you. But you can't resist the temptation to lean forward and lick the tip. He groans above you, hands resting on the back of your head to push you further against his groin.

You're so cute. He watches you, hearts in his eyes, slurping away at his cock, clumsy hands rubbing at the parts you can't fit. You reek of inexperience, but it's okay. He has more than enough time to teach you, and he'll enjoy every second of it.

But for now, he lets himself relax and enjoy the warmth of your throat. The urge to cum rises its head, but he pushes it back. Not yet. Not until he feels you properly. (But he can't deny the mental image of his seed dripping from your mouth is incredibly arousing.)

It's when you begin to choke on his length that Blade pulls himself out of his pleasure-induced stupor, and he pulls you off of him to lay down on his bed. He follows you, resting on one arm above your head while his other hand trails down your neck, to your breasts (sparing a few seconds to fondle and squeeze each one), down your belly to your thighs, lightly tapping your wet mound.

"I'm gonna stretch you out now," he says, making sure you're paying attention to him. "Or it'll hurt when I go in."

It hits you: he's done this before. The bracer flashes in your mind. For a brief moment, you think to pull away and return to your room alone, to lick at the wounds to your sensitive pride.

But you hear him call to you, soft kisses being pressed onto your cheeks, and you are pulled away from the storm into his solid embrace.

"You're thinking again," he sighs, and he moves to kiss the corner of your mouth. "Whatever it is, think of it tomorrow. Just let me in; look at me."

Blade rubs his cheek against yours, giving you a reassuring look, then you feel his fingers, long and calloused, brush against your sensitive hole. You gasp at the unfamiliar feeling and squirm, but he keeps you firm, kissing you deeply to distract you from the way they slowly press inside you.

Your walls are tight. Blade wants so badly to pull his fingers out and devour you from the source, slurp up every last drop of your essence. But he grasps hold on the last few strings of his unraveling patience, not giving in to his desires just yet. He needs to do this, lest you cry in pain when he finally pushes inside you. So he finds solace in your softness, in the rhythmic squeezing of your silky cunt, carefully stretching you out.

A tear slips out of your eyes at the painful pleasure, and he kisses it away. "There we go. You're ready," he murmurs, pulling his fingers out, your whines at the emptiness music to his ears. He brings them to his mouth, sucking off your juices and moaning at the taste.

"Don't... don't do that," you whimper beneath him. You stare at him so innocently, he wants to ruin you. "It's yucky..."

"It's you," he corrects you, and he adjusts himself so he's between your legs. He smooths his hands down your thighs and positions his cock right at your entrance. When the tip catches onto your hole, you both sigh in pleasure. "Nothing about you is 'yucky.'"

With that, he finally- finally thrusts inside you. You yelp at the intrusion- he stretched you out, but aeons, it's still painful... and he's still not fully inside you. Whimpering, you claw at his scarred shoulders, nails raking down his back. He groans at the sting, leaning down to kiss you, unable to escape your addicting lips.

He can't move. He's trapped by the tightness of your pussy, your wet warmth distracting him from the main course. But your cries of his name pull him out of that haze, reminding him of what he needs to do.

"You're okay," he manages to heave out, cupping your cheek before pressing his chest to yours, mouth smushed against your ear. "I'm here. I'm gonna move."

You whine a weak "Blade..." but he shushes you.

"Ren."

"...What?" you ask hesitantly.

"My name. My real name. Ren."

"...Ren."

Oh, aeons. Your voice is so beautiful saying his long-forgotten name, he nearly came inside you. But he works up the strength to push his cock deeper, until his hips meet yours with a wet slap.

You wail, chanting his name- his true name- as he builds up a semi-steady rhythm. And he makes love to you, for aeons knows how long, hypnotized by your sounds, your smell, your touches on his body as you scratch at him and bite his neck, as if leaving your mark on him. (He wishes he didn't have his healing factor. He wants your scratches to last. He wants to look at them in the morning.)

You manage to cradle his face in your palm and turn him towards you. You take the time to admire him- his gorgeous red eyes, his bare chest gleaming with sweat, his long hair forming a curtain around you, narrowing your sight to him, and only him. So it's just Blade.

No... Ren.

Your heart clenches at his amorous gaze, as if showing his devotion to you, and only you. You do not know if he loves you... if he is capable of loving you. You do not know if he will come to regret this come morning. But you will embrace him, and smile at him, like you do now.

Because you love him. You cannot deny it anymore. You love Ren.

"Ren..." you call out once more.

And he answers you. "Yes." His voice is breathy, and his touch gentle, for he cups your cheek in his hand and rubs soft circles into your sensitive skin.

He may not love you, but you love him. And that is all you need. And you let your love consume you.

"Ren."

"Yes."

You say his name so much you lose count. And he responds every time, sometimes with words, sometimes with his lips. Until he grabs your thighs and folds you nearly in half, hips now slamming into yours as he buries his length inside you even deeper than you thought possible. Your eyes cross and you howl at how impossibly deep he feels, pressing buttons you never knew existed.

Blade moans, drunk on his pleasure, on your sweet, sweet pussy. He feels that unfamiliar tightness in his loins, his balls aching for release. But he needs you there with him, standing at the edge of that cliff right by his side.

"'M close," he whispers hoarsely. His hand flies to your hidden pearl, rubbing at your clit through your folds. You whine pitifully, but this time, he pays no heed. "I need you, come on, I need you-!"

The burning warmth in your gut spreads faster at his rough administrations. You squeal at how sensitive you feel, but you can't outrun it. The heat reaches to your limbs, your eyesight is hazy, and all you see, feel, smell, know is Ren.

Ren, who grasps hold of your hand, urging you to jump off with him. And aeons, he looks so beautiful doing it.

You can't help the words that slip past your mouth: "I love you."

And you jump. You plummet into the canyon, hands intertwined, and you're swept under the waves of indescribable ecstasy that makes you see galaxies. You feel warm, much like the ropes of warm seed that fill you.

Your mind is foggy, but Blade's sighs of pleasure are clear and bright. You feel him thrust inside you, once, twice, four times, before collapsing on top of you. He nuzzles into your neck, taking in lungfuls of your scent, committing it to his memory so he can never part from it.

With shaking arms, you manage to run your hands through his hair, massaging his scalp and untangling the soft strands, trying to shake your sudden nerves as you realize what you just said in the throes of your first orgasm.

I love you.

But if he noticed, then he hasn't spoken up about it. Instead, he shudders at your touch, pushing his head further into your hands, a silent urge to continue. So you do, until your eyes can no longer stay open, and your hands fall limp in his hair.

He pushes himself up and gathers you in his arms, pressing you to his chest, close to his pounding heart. And he takes the time to admire your drowsy form, so vulnerable and soft, so trusting.

"You terrify me," is all he can whisper before he joins you into slumber.

Because you make him not want to seek death. But he knows he must search for it, now more fervently than before. So that when your time inevitably comes...

...He will be able to follow you.

[...]

"It seems like you and Bladie have been rather close these days~ Have you two finally fucked and made up?"

You blush at Kafka's stupidly accurate teasing. "Don't say it like that! We just... had a talk, that's all."

Your friend eyes the hickies on your neck with amusement. "Sure... a talk with teeth~"

"Kafka-"

"When's dinner? Are you gonna make pasta?" Silver Wolf pops up out of nowhere, eyes fixed on her game.

"Do you want pasta?" you ask her with a laugh. She can be so childish sometimes, but you love her nonetheless.

"Yeah. I like your pasta." The gamer moves to sit next to you, but her chosen spot is suddenly occupied as Blade slides in beside you. He gives you a knowing look, before sending a cocky smirk at Silver Wolf, who pouts and complains to Kafka.

You cackle at the sight before you, and slowly rest your head on his shoulder. Blade says nothing, but the way he shifts his body for your comfort and wraps an arm around you tells you everything. You close your eyes in bliss, ignoring the chatter between your two friends as Silver Wolf decides to make a spot on your lap.

Blade is warm beside you. That is enough.

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

A/N: this b*tch took all my wishes but it's ok I love him. I'll hopefully be able to save enough for Dan heng's dragon form *wink wonk* also I'm reassuring myself that no matter how bad this is, hbo's the idol is far far worse 😃

[comfortless]

bsfr here knight!gf would have women flocking her! a cute girl with a sword??? dungeoneer!könig never stood a chance. 😔 does he get jealous?

hi hi marmy you are so correct…! i love these two touch-starved emotionally inept little creatures…

König hates— hates the nights when the taverns they wander by are crowded, some terrible bard barking out a song boasting tales of heroism across the kingdom, banter and food shared between the two… because those are the nights that (given a little mead and a flirty wink from a tavern maiden) he knows he will be staying up all night like an ever-vigilant herding dog to watch over her.

The women do not care whether or not his knight has a cock, they find her utterly charming in every way; from her tales of beasts she’s slain to the playful way she leans forward to speak with them. She doesn’t even have to do much to catch a curious, longing stare, polishing her sword or wiping bloodstains from her armor typically is enough to do the trick.

König has even tried to emulate her a time or two, hoping to see that same flicker of jealous cross her face that he seems to wear every night like this only to find himself thrown out whilst the little knight has her fill of drinking and cavorting with the other ladies.

It turns him on when she’s this bewitching, too, making the entire ordeal even more frustrating for him. /: He sees the way she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, the way she puts up with women pawing at her chest plate (why is it only an issue when he does it??).

She even has the audacity to tell one of these adoring does that König is her squire, some pup rushing to lick her boots and sharpen her swords... He doesn’t miss the way that, when this intruder does finally bolster the courage to kiss her on the cheek, his lady knight offers him a sly little grin.

He also loves these nights.

Since they began to sleep in the same bed (“It gets too cold at night,” she had said.) she doesn’t seem to mind his pawing so much. She lets him squish her breasts beneath her tunic, roll his hips against her as long as he doesn’t push it too much.

The best part, though? When she tells him that despite all of those eyes on her, his attention is all that she wants.

König is the only person that’s brazen or ridiculous enough to actually spar with her, anyhow. What is she supposed to do with a lady too afraid of dirtying her skirts or a man too chivalrous to kiss her blade?!

It’s on one of these evenings, that she finally, finally pulls him in for a kiss— just after he’s finished scolding her for tipping the tavern maiden nearly the entirety of their last payment just because the other lady happened to stroke her palm and tell her how brave she is.

The kiss is sudden, surprisingly chaste as she curls her arm over his neck and pulls him toward her waiting mouth. He’s too shocked by the fact she’s willingly showing him some sort of affection that isn’t entirely subtle or overtly vulgar that he does not even have a chance to reciprocate.

It devolves into a moment of awkward, bashful staring and nervous huffs of breath. Neither of them mention it, but he could swear that he heard a whispered confession from her lips before sleep takes him that night.

[gloomyswritings]

silent protecter | knight!nanami kento x princess reader

warnings : nanami is a few years older than reader, jealous toxic and possessive nanami, little ooc,

slightly suggestive ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

notes : reader is a Princess and nanami is her knight who watches over her, this is just blurbs not super cohesive fyi maybe I’ll write more about this story later :3 also like always I don’t have time to proofread I work in corporate America folks

The moment Nanami laid eyes on you the day you were born he felt something inside him change; maybe it was because he knew from that moment forward he would be your protector until the day he died just as his father was for the king—your father. He held you in his arms, you cooing and your hands pulling at the strings on his shirt, his face was scrunched as he disliked babies. “She likes you.” The Queen said her expression was tired yet gentle. He only continued to make a disgusted face which only made you laugh more. “What’s her name?” He asked informally as he handed you back to your mother. He watched as your mother caressed your chubby cheeks a look of pure love gleamed in her eyes, “______. My dear sweet ______.” The queen replied voice so soft. ______, that was a lovely name. He thought.

Nanami was only your senior by five years but yet he was a still a young boy with an immense amount of responsibility, and truth be told he hardly wanted to interact with you when you were a baby even a toddler he did not care that he was your knight and you were the Princess. It wasn’t until you were older at the innocent age of seven when he began to interact with you more. Partially it was because his father forced him to get to know you more and the other reason was because he was constantly following you around, sword in hand and an uninterested expression on his pale features. You often bombard him with questions which he dutifully answered slowly he began to open up to you and thus a true friendship sparked.

When Nanami was a teen he realized something in him had changed. The way your hand would brush against him would make his heart flutter, your gentle laughter made his face heat up, the way your soft silky hair felt against his fingertips as he brushed your hair on rare occasions. He would feel jealous when he saw others flirting with you in an attempt to court you but he knew no man was worthy of your hand in marriage so he’d find them afterwards and tell these men that they were unworthy and to not ever flirt with you again. It worked most of the time, it was his way of weeding out cowards. You were oblivious to the fact that your knight was the one driving away men, you certainly thought you were the problem. “You’re not doing anything wrong my Princess. Those men aren’t worth your time anyways.” Nanami consoled you as he soothingly ran his hands through your hair as you cried into his chest about being the most undesirable princess in the world.

Nanami watched you from a distance as you sat on a bench on the gardens with a potential suitor. He glared daggers at the white haired man caressed your cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He watched as your face heated up and you shyly looked away, your hands bunching up the fabric of your beautiful dress. Satoru Gojo, a man from a powerful noble family within your kingdom he had been seeing you for months now trying to win your heart over and it seemed to be working. Though Nanami knew the tales of the womanizer Satoru, he saw how the man toyed with you but you were too naive to notice. Subconsciously his fists tightened at his side and he swore he made eye contact with the white haired devil who shot him a smirk. God he could strangle him! “The Princess seems to really like him! Reckon this one will work out?” A voice said from beside him, for the first time knocking Nanami out of his trance. He looked at the raven haired man next to him and grunted, “Hope not. I hope the King doesn’t allow ______, to marry that fool.” He responded to his fellow knight Yu Haibara who was also tasked with guard duty. Yu laughed softly, “Seems like someone’s je-“ he began was quickly shut his month upon seeing the glare Nanami gave him. More time passed and eventually he watched as you wandered further into the gardens with Satoru Gojo as much as he wanted to follow he knew he couldn’t. He had to respect the boundaries that were given to him. It was nauseating to think what was happening between you and Satoru right now he only prayed it was innocent then suddenly he heard you shriek. Instantly he sprung into action following the sound of your voice. His sword was drawn expecting the worse but only to see you pressed against Satoru’s chest.

“Woah there. Don’t worry I wasn’t doing anything to the Princess. A wasp was chasing her. Don’t worry I handled it.” Satoru said cooly a boyish grin playing on his lips. His strong hand was wrapped around your waist lingering a little too close to your bum. Nanami sighed putting away his weapon he waisted no time walking up to you and placing a hand on your shoulder, “I’m afraid it’s time for the Princess’ classes. Come Yu will take you, your highness.” He said. You pulled away from Satoru and nodded, “Ah I see thank you Kento. Satoru it was a pleasure as always seeing you.” You smiled bowing to the white haired man before following Yu back into the castle, leaving Nanami and Satoru alone. “I’ll escort you out, sir.” Nanami said a tinge of annoyance in his voice. Satoru laughed, “You’re jealous aren’t you?” He asked. Nanami stiffened and only motioned for Satoru to walk. “Oh come on Kento no need to be so formal with me. We went to school together and are friends. _______, likes me which is a shame because I don’t really like her that way. Not my type. My folks are wanting me to marry her so I can be king. Don’t really want that. It’s a shame your her knight so you can’t marry her.” Satoru said walking past the blond. Nanami’s eye twitched as glared at him, “Then stop playing with her feelings.” He suddenly said, Satoru pausing. “Or what? It seems like I’m on track to be the next ki-“ then suddenly Satoru was shoved against a brick wall. Nanami gripping his frenemy’s collar. “Your playing with the wrong person Satoru. Go find someone else to manipulate but leave _______ out of this.” He hissed. Suddenly Satoru began to laugh using a small burst of cursed energy to push Nanami away. He straightened his collar, “I just wanted to see if you really liked her. Fine she’s yours. I’ll stop courting her.” He winked at the blond before walking past him leaving the castle grounds. Nanami stared blankly now realizing his mistake, you’d be absolutely heartbroken.

The next day came and so did Satoru Gojo’s rejection much to Nanami’s pleasure though he hated seeing you cry. He sat on your plush bed adorned with expensive blankets as you sobbed your head on his lap. He stroked your head as he gazed at your shaking body. “Shh shh…it’s okay Princess. He wasn’t worth your time anyways. Satoru is sleazy and a womanizer he just wanted to use you for your status.” He tried to comfort you but you only cried harder. “No one likes me Kento you only deal with me because you have to!” You cried lifting your head up as tears streamed down your face. You looked like a mess but to Nanami you were beautiful as always. His expression remained indifferent as he looked at you, “I like you ______. I stay around because I care about you.” He explained. Your eyes widened for a brief moment before you cried again collapsing into his chest. “What would I do without.” You cried. A sly smirk played on his lips as he wrapped his arms around you patting your back.

Some years passed and you were now twenty two the time to marry was near and your parents were putting more pressure on you finding a suitor. Nanami grew more restless more agitated the more men he saw trying to court you. He was losing himself—finally he had enough. He stepped into your bedroom without a knock just as the sun began to set. He stood watching you for a few moments as you hummed softly to yourself applying various creams to your face. Clearing his throat he began to speak, “_______.” He said cooly. You jumped in surprise turning to face the tall blond man, pressing a hand to your chest you laughed, “Goodness Kento you scared me. I figured you would of already been in bed since it is past your scheduled ‘work’ time.” You said. Nanami scoffed, “You know I’m on duty 24/7.” He retorted. You shrugged turning around to screw the lid onto your face cream. Swiftly Nanami made his way towards you closing the distance and when you spun around once again he was only a few inches from your body. His tall frame towered above you, “There’s something we need to discuss.” He stated. You nodded slowly standing up, your heart rate was through the roof, “Okay..go ahead.” You said meekly.

With one quick motion you were pinned to the wall as Nanami’s amber eyes peered into yours. His strong hand was placed firmly on your shoulder and his other hand against the wall trapping you. “Wha-what are you doing?” You stammered out. You’d never seen him act this way before it was intimidating. Nanami pressed his forehead against yours he let out an exasperated sigh left his mouth as he closed his eyes, “Your hunt for finding a husband it’s over. I hate the way those men stare at you…like you’re a piece of meat. They only want you because of your status. They don’t appreciate you for who you really are.” He said voice low. Your breathing was heavy as you looked up at your knight, “Wha..what are you—“ you began but once again you were cut off. You were so confused a million different questions were running through your mind. What on earth was he going on about? “Quiet I’m not done.” He silenced you. You tried wiggling out of his grasp but his grip on tightened, “I’ve decided we’re going to get married. I’m the only one that understands you. I trust you agree also?” He asked though it wasn’t so much of a question. Your eyes widened in shock, “is this a confession Kento?” You asked meekly. He hummed in response, “Mhm. I love you _______. Your status means nothing to me. Your just _______ to me.” He said though this time his voice was more center. He pulled away from you releasing his grip when you didn’t say anything.

Nanami sighed in frustration burying his face into his hand shaking his head, “Forget I said anything. I spoke out of place Princess.” He apologized. He knew if word got out about what he just confessed his father would do more than just reprimand him. He’d be lucky to get away with his life. Suddenly he felt your soft fingers wrap around his wrist, “Wait Kento. I think…no I do love you too. Perhaps I just thought it wouldn’t be possible for us to get married that’s why I tried so desperately to find someone else to love but nothing ever connected.” You confessed your voice was soft and gentle. Nanami turned to face you this time a look of surprise on his face, he couldn’t help but notice how cute you looked. So shy and submissive it turned him on like no other.

He quickly closed the gap between you two and collided his lips against yours. Your lips were so soft unlike his slightly chapped ones. His calloused hands cupped your face he bit your lip you let out a gasp and a moan left your mouth. “K-Kento.” You gasped out. As Nanami’s strong hands began to travel to your collarbone than to your chest he was stopped by your bedroom door opening.

“N-Nanami!” The familiar voice of Yu Haibabra stammered out. Quickly the blond pulled away from you and stood in front turning to face the raven haired boy, “What?” He said through gritted teeth. “I…I…the King told me to retrieve the Princess. A suitor is here to see her.” He stammered out his face was flushed a bright red. Nanami scoffed, “We’ll be out in a minute. Tell the King to send the suitor away. ______ has found herself a husband.” He commanded. Yu quickly bowed slamming the door shut behind him rushing away. When Nanami turned to face you he noticed how flushed your face was you avoided his gaze shyly twirling your fingers, “H-how do I tell father?” You asked. Nanami lifted your chin up forcing you to look at him, “Don’t worry I’ll handle it. Fix yourself up then we’ll go see him.” He said cooly.

[sansypansy]

"You'd miss me too much."

Robin landed on the building right on Batman's heels, his bo staff at the ready as they faced the fierce and deadly Talia al Ghul with her loyal son.

"The League has no business here in Gotham, Talia," Bruce grunted.

"How else can I get your attention, Beloved?" Talia's smirk was beautiful, but sharp. She drew her sword as Bruce lunged. Damian had his own blade unsheathed as well and intercepted Tim immediately. The two pairs broke off into their own fights and with little chases and flips, the teens found themselves on another rooftop entirely.

"So uh," Tim began with a small hopeful grin, "haven't heard from you in a while. Think you can block out a date on your busy assassin calendar for me?"

A quick counter with his staff clashed harshly against Damian's sword.

"You must believe to be so charming, Robin." Damian's face was impassive, but his pretty green eyes reflected a different story. Tim could see, especially when they were this up close.

"Maybe." He shrugged, then flipped to dodge Damian's kick. "I just like to take my chances with a beautiful assassin prince like you."

A smirk painted Damian's lips. Tim swore he saw those long black eyelashes flutter. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Detective."

The vigilante narrowly dodged the sword thrusting for his abdomen.

"Alas, I do not think you would want a repeat of last time," Damian purred seductively.

How could Tim forget? He had to do the walk of shame when he'd woken up clotheless, walletless with his laptop containing all secret files stolen. Bruce had been insufferable that day.

It'd been so, so worth it. He would do just about anything to have a taste of the little prince again.

"Not that I didn't enjoy it. I'd like to see you try pulling a honeypot on me again. Might just tie you down," Tim grinned wolfishly as he lunged and swept Damian's feet with his staff. The latter leaped, trapping Tim's head between his thighs and flipped him over on his back.

Tim's mouth fell open as the breath was forced out of him due to the impact. And also the fact he just had a full face of Damian's crotch.

Fuck, not now Timmy Junior™!

Damian held his torso down with one foot pressed to his chest and a sword at his neck. "One day, your infatuation shall be the death of you, Robin."

Tim exhaled in awe as the subtle scent of royal jasmine flooded his nose, his eyes becoming smitten.

"Wouldn't be the worst way to go, honestly." His smile was loop-sided. "Besides, you'd miss me too much."

He noticed the slight falter in the blade aimed at his throat, and Tim took that momentum to swipe at the assassin's leg and rolled a few inches away. He moved to a low crouch just Talia suddenly dropped down next to her son.

"We are leaving, Damian," she ordered curtly before disappearing over the edge the building like a silent shadow.

Damian sheathed his sword without any questions, pulled up his hood and prepared to follow his mother. However, Tim didn't miss how he gave him a secretive smile before falling backwards into the alley below. Tim rushed forward and looked down, but there was no human trace.

It was then that Batman commed him to return to base as he'd already dismantled the League's mission. Tim sulked about Damian seemingly rejecting his offer until a few hours later, he received a cryptic, anonymous text on his phone with a single date and a meeting location.

'Do not be late, Detective.♡' the second text read simply. Tim let out the loudest whoop and fist pumped the air.

[reticent-writer]

oh oh the oiran one got me thinkin' of a slightly dif concept : reader that is also working for Daki but is also a demon. Suddenly, reader gets chosen by a customer but lo and behold: Two hashira , Giyuu and Kyojuro (imagine that he survives Akaza's attack and didn't get to be a donut). reader is intimidated but tries their best t obviously a low level demon can't take them on in a fight, so they just hide the fact that they are a demon by using an ability that masks that. and then just do the things any normal Oiran does until their customers are satisfied.

demon slayer masterlist

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

You always attended to Daki for anything and everything that she needed but when a customer called on you Daki was quick to push you in their direction.

You went to meet them expecting to see a who was down on his luck but instead saw not 1 but 2 demon slayers. You didn't even have to get close to know that they were stronger than you. You quickly turned around to warn daki.

"Do you want to disappoint me?" She raised an eyebrow at your trembling form.

"Of course not but I-" You were cut off by the back of her hand across your face. A crisp slap.

"Then go and do your job." She came close to your face so she could whisper in your ear, "Who are you more afraid of? Me or 2 demon slayers?"

She didn't want to hear your answer and walked away.

Using your demon art(whatever you want it to be) You masked your 'demon scent'.

-----

"Did both gentlemen ask for me?" You smiled and looked between the 2 slayers. They were so strong, that you started to think they were Hashira but quickly shook that thought from your head.

"Yes we did," Giyuu said, he looked uninterested in his surroundings while Rengoku was taking everything in. You lead them to your room.

The three of you had a pleasant conversation (mostly you and rengoku) but you weren't an Oiran and you knew what almost everyone came to the redlight district for. So you started to disrobe.

Rengoku grabbed your hands before you pulled off your kimono.

"There is no need to disrobe, miss, we did not come for that. We are here for information. There have been many reports of missing people here so I will ask. Have you heard of any suspicious activity from the woman in the house?" His hand was still on yours and he talked.

You slowly pulled away, "I'm sorry but I haven't heard anythin-" There was a sword at your throat quickly silencing you. Giyuu was behind you ready to slice the moment you moved.

"Weapons aren't aloud in the red light district sir." You tried to tell him but he didn't care.

"Neither are demons." Rengoku's once happy and light tone turned dark as he had his chest pressed against yours and his sword at the back of your throat. You tried to back up but you back hit Giyuu's chest.

Your fucked from both directions.

"I will ask again but differently this time. Are you the only demon here?"

'crap' You thought there is no way out. If you call for Daki you'll die before she gets to you and if you don't say anything you'll die. But what if you comply with them.

You wanted even the slighted chance that you'll live you so you comply.

"There are 2 others but they're strong."

"Where are they?" Giyuu demanded to know.

"I don't know, they could be anywhere in this building or others."

Giyuu and Rengoku looked at each other like they could read each other's mind before it was Rengoku's turn to question you.

"Have you ever killed someone?"

"Yes but never by choice. I only do what I'm told." You were honest Daki made you do her dirty work when you had first been turned into a demon.

'To toughen you up' she said.

"How many?"

"I don't know."

"Your name."

"Y/n."

"I liked the conversation we had y/n but you have killed an unknown number of people because a demon tells you to. You cannot be allowed to live."

In a final effort to leave with your life you scream.

"DAKI."

But the moment you do your head is severed, you screamed until you couldn't.

------

Rengoku really did like your conversation, he just wished that you weren't a demon.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

[peachtarto]

A Hundred Golden Urns - Part ii

Pairing: Luke Castellan x unclaimed demigod (Alexandria)

Summary: Luke tries to help an unclaimed camper

Warnings: bit of angst- nothing crazy!

Part 1 here! Part 3 here!

Luke had half expected she wouldn’t show up to their sparring session.

He’d been pacing back and forth across the sand for the better part of an hour when she finally showed up. She wasn’t late, he was just rather early by his standards. He realised he’d said ‘first thing’ to her on the jetty, and then also realised that it was unlikely that either of them would know when that was. And so, as soon as the sun had begun to rise, he’d been stood in the sparring ring.

She had her hands behind her head as she walked, platting her hair into a braid down her back. She was biting on her lip as she did it, scowling at nothing. He tried not to let his eyes linger for too long, lest that scowl be turned on him.

‘I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.’ She said as she reached the edge of the ring, grabbing a chest plate and beginning to pull it over her head. ‘I hope you haven’t been here too long.’

She sent an apologetic smile over her shoulder as she pulled on her leathers. Again, he tried not to let his gaze linger.

‘I got here a few minutes ago.’ He replied, and hoped she couldn’t hear the lie in his voice. ‘I thought I’d better warm up before I trounce you.’

‘What happened to taking is slow?’

She turned back towards him, her armour on and her practice sword dangling in her right hand. It occurred to him then she didn’t even know how to hold a sword, let alone use one. He stepped towards her and gestured towards her sword arm.

‘Slow doesn’t mean easy.’ He said, taking her hand and adjusting her grip on the blade. ‘And I think you’ve been holding out on us.’

She quirked an eyebrow up, ‘oh?’

He let her hand down and retreated a few steps, gathering his own sword from the sand. ‘I think there’s more to you than meets the eye, and I for one, would like to find out what that is.’

Luke lunged before she could reply, swinging in a quick arc down across her body. Metal clanged as she battered his attack away from her chest, falling back a step. But as quickly as she’d stepped back, she readjusted her footing, settling back into her heels. It was his turn to quirk an eyebrow.

‘I thought you said you weren’t good at this.’

He tried again, this time swinging low. His sword met nothing but air. She’d stepped right out of it’s path.

‘We’re demigods, we’re all good at this. It doesn’t mean I’m anything like the rest of you.’

This time it was her that stepped forward. Like managed to bring his sword in front of his face as she hammered down at him. The echo rang around the ring.

‘Yet.’ He smirked.

They practiced into the late morning, until the sun was almost fully overhead. Luke had won every round. She had expected as much, she only knew a few basic moves, and she’d exhausted them in the first 30 seconds of sparring. He’d quickly learned her arsenal and had been untouchable after that.

She’d also expected that he would be smug about his victories, but that Luke was nowhere to be seen. At the end of each round he’d helped her up from the sand, complimented her stance or her footwork and then promptly got to work on her flaws; he’d been patient, and explained how to fix each one, letting her retry movements over and over until they were mastered. She was tired and sore, but a small part of her was beaming at the fact she’d managed to stand her ground at all. She’d watched him fight, she knew few people could withstand five minutes with Luke, let alone win. Maybe that small part of her was also a little proud.

‘You did well today.’ He said, reaching to take her sword. ‘You downplayed your skills, you’re miles ahead of where I thought we’d be.’

She handed it over with no complaints, glad to be taking a break at last, and gave a small shrug in response. He was being nice, and it wasn’t lost on her. Chiron had probably told him to butter her up. She went to turn away, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.

‘Hey,’ he span her around to face him again and she was keenly aware of the warm hand that was still on her, ‘I mean it. I don’t know about you, but I had fun this morning, normally it sucks when everyone goes home, I’m glad I’ve still got someone to spar with.’

Nice. Still so nice.

‘I’d hardly call it sparring, I could barely keep up with you.’

He sighed, letting the hand on her shoulder guide her to the bench beside them. She slumped onto it. She hasn’t realised how tired she was until her legs met the wood, then it was all she could take not to sprawl across it and fall fast asleep.

‘Because you’re still holding back.’ Luke said as he began to untie her leathers, kneeling on the sand in front of her. She didn’t stop him, she wasn’t sure she had the energy to try. ‘There’s more fight in you, I know it.’

He gently slid off her arm coverings before lifting a leg into his lap, nimble fingers unlacing another set of straps. He could feel her eyes on him, on his face, but kept his own on the laces in his hands.

‘We all start somewhere,’ he continued, eager to fill the silence, ‘by the time the others are back next summer, you’ll be flying. Everyone will want you on their team.’

She stayed quiet.

‘I was a sorry state when I first arrived, I could barely keep my helmet on. Clarisse knocked me on my ass at every opportunity, so believe me, I know how that feels. But I saw you this summer, you can already hold your own. No infirmary visits after capture the flag, no broken armour, no chore duty- you’re already doing better than I was.’

He didn’t look up from his work as he continued talking. If he had, he might’ve seen her misty eyes or her wobbling lip, or the way her hands were gripping the bench so hard her knuckles were turning white.

‘Chiron thinks you’re a natural, we’ve just got to tap into that part of you. I think if we just work on-‘

Finally Luke looked up. She’d tried to keep the tear from falling, but it was too late. It fell onto her lap, followed by another, and another. He opened his mouth to speak but Alex was already on her feet, walking away from the sparing ring. Away from him.

‘Alex wait!’ He jumped up, dropping the leathers from his lap in the process. He had to jog to keep up, she showed now signs of waiting. ‘Alex come on, slow down!’

By the time he caught up with her she’d made it halfway back to the cabins, arms wrapped tightly around her body. He side stepped her, holding his arms wide to stop her from going any further.

‘Please move Luke.’ She said in barely a whisper, trying to push past him.

‘Not until you tell me what’s wrong,’ he said, placing his hands on her shoulders and leaning down to her eye level, leaving her nowhere to look but at him. ‘I thought we- I thought you enjoyed this morning? That was a great session!’

‘Luke I don’t want-‘

He cut her off before she could finish.

‘No more not wanting to talk about it, let’s have it out.’ He breathed, ‘almost everyone has gone home, you can talk to me. I just want to help, if you explain, maybe I can.’

She reached up to where his hands rested on her shoulders, and gently peeled them away. She stepped back, then to the right, and made to move past him again. She avoided his gaze, but his glare burnt into the back of her head. As she walked, she could hear the crack of twigs under his feet as he followed.

‘Okay, so you don’t want to talk. Noted.’ Luke gritted out as he fell into step beside her. He didn’t mess the way she sped up, trying to outpace him. ‘You don’t want to come to dinner, noted. You just want to cry it out alone in the middle of the night, noted.’

That was enough to make her falter, and dare a glance in his direction. But she didn’t stop walking.

‘Alex,’ he tried, softly. His tone made it sound like a plea. It hurt her chest. ‘Alex I just want to help you.’

She slowed down, not because she wanted to, but because they were nearing the edge of the cabins and it wasn’t a conversation she felt like having in front of Clarisse. She turned to him, looking up into his concerned face.

Nice. And handsome. So devastatingly handsome. She’d seen carvings of Hermes, and a few paintings here and there; to her, Luke held no resemblance to the god, to his father. The thought struck her then that his mother must’ve been the beautiful one, the kind one.

‘I don’t know what Chiron promised you, or what Mr D offered you. Whatever it is, just tell them you helped me and claim it- I’ll play along if they ask.’

‘They didn’t ask me to help you, or take pity on you. You’re cabin 11, that makes you my problem.’ She winced at that. ‘Look I’m just saying, you’re one of us, a Hermes kid, for now anyway. We stick together.’

‘And if I get claimed? What then?’ She asked, ‘I’m out on my ass again aren’t I? I won’t be a Hermes kid anymore.’

He wanted to correct her, but he knew there was a semblance of truth to what she said. She wouldn’t be his ‘problem’ if she went to another Cabin, her well-being would be the responsibility of whoever was counsellor there.

‘I don’t want to settle into a life here, only to have it ripped out from under my feet. I’ve had that so many times before, I’m tired of being disappointed.’

‘Then I won’t.’

‘You won’t what?’

‘I’m not going to disappoint you.’ Luke said firmly. He dared a step closer, holding out his hand in a silent deal. ‘I promise I won’t disappoint you, even if you end up an Ares kid or some snotty nosed Aphrodite kid. We’ve got all year to figure this out, the cabin is quiet enough that even if you’re claimed next week you can stay for a while. I promise you won’t ever be, what was it you said? Out on your ass.’

She looked at him then, and he could see it. A tiny smile, right in the left corner of her mouth.

She shook his hand.

[writingnocturne]

His Hand in Hers

This is my contribution to @zelinkcommunity's Zelink Week 2023! Day Four: Hand in Hand

Look below the break to read! Be sure to check out everyone else's work, as well! Everything so far is SO GOOD!!!

{ For this week, I will be posting a little peek at art/writing for memories in Call of the Forgotten, a TotK rewrite I am working on (there will obviously be direct and indirect spoilers for TotK). These memories will be posted out of order and are subject to change. They follow the Ancient Hero and Princess during the time of the First Great Calamity. }

Memory ?? – His Hand in Hers

( Words – 923 )

His body quakes. It wants to scream. Every last inch of his skin burns. Link fights the ever-draining pulse that runs through his veins, his hands remaining tightly gripped around the handle of a blade. All that echoes over the ringing of his ears are Zelda's words: Knowledge of this blade was lost with the fall of the Old Hyrule. For it to be returned to this world now… it must be the final line of defense against the forces of darkness. He knows what he must do. As his form flashes between a masked Hylian and a Zonai with glowing arms, a miracle finally arrives. A distant voice rings in his ears. With it, the blade is freed from its pedestal, its elegant shine reflecting his exhausted face… and the battle that transpires behind him.

A gleaming figure stands in the center of a ring of weapons, all stopped in time. A shimmering stone on her left arm– like the one upon the hero's right– reflects in the blades. In an instant, they are thrown back towards the circling beasts. The silhouette turns her head back at the pillar of blue light now emanating from behind her, making eye contact with Link just before an arrow pierces her shoulder. She stumbles to the side, nearly following the motion of the projectile.

Upon witnessing the attack, the hero's form finally settles upon that of a Zonai warrior. Gripping the glistening blade as if his life depends upon it– and hers. Springing forward, he sprints in front of the princess and shouts towards the beast as if daring them to make a second attempt. The forces of malice and golden eyes temporarily shrink back, seemingly understanding the true gravity of the sacred blade coming into play. Taking this as an opportunity, Link peers back at Zelda. His blood rushes faster than he can think, holding a blade of such might in his hands. The princess stares up to him as she catches her breath. Her right hand, which grips her shoulder, emanates the glow of a triangular shape that beats with the heart of his blade. Despite her injury, she slowly reaches her hand over his, which holds the mighty sword.

"...You… You pulled the Sacred Blade!" Her voice has nearly left her, "The Triforce of Courage shines brilliantly in its presence. It… it knows you–" Zelda pauses, blinking as though she heard someone interject. Shaking her head, she continues, "That's all we need! Now, let's see how its voice guides you!"

Streams of color paint the battlefield in their wake, the pair's combined power cutting through the monstrosities with a newfound ease. At last, Link can feel life flowing from the Sacred Stone upon his wrist into his very spirit. He was told it held a great power– greater than that of his Zonai state on its own– but it never appeared to him until this very moment. Something tells him it awaited the blade in his grasp; it knew also that he was "chosen," as many have called him. While such a fact brings another disturbing weight, he takes no time to fear it. He pushes forward, breathing not worry, but the wild of battle alone.

In a rush he can barely keep track of, it is over. The corruption that remains retreats into the fog of the woods, the foreboding presence of its influence disappearing from view. Link's lungs sting in his chest, his grip on the Master Sword's hilt loosening. Zelda takes a moment to recuperate as well. Her ears perk up soon after, leading her eyes back towards the blade.

"...She thought you would be arriving much sooner." The princess mutters. Link turns his head back to her, raising an eyebrow as he catches his breath. Zelda elaborates, making an effort to be clearer despite being out of air. "The sword– I don't think it knew it was lost. …But no matter. You have found it now." The princess holds out a hand for her towering companion. "And that means you truly are selected by fate to rid the world of this evil– the manifestation of a demon's hatred throughout time."

The hero's claws stiffen at his side's at the sight of her hand. He knows well she has already been locked into this cycle, although there's no telling just how long this predestined duty has been carved. To take her hand is to truly accept the inescapable; the fate he has already allowed to arrive. But what more is there to him? If there is something that can be done with them– two who were left behind in the ashes of a war– then is there truly another way to go? Who is he to decide?

Zelda slightly draws her hand back. She sees his trepidation, even if his face shows none. Before she can speak, however, Link reaches out and takes her hand. There's a certain complexity to his eyes, leaving her to wonder just what spins in his head. It couldn't be more difficult to decipher. As she regains her senses from this wondering, the princess realizes Link has kneeled. For this moment, only him and his loyalty are visible to her.

"With the Master Sword, Ganon is one step closer to a final seal. But I promise you shall not face calamity alone. The Triforce and all of Hyrule as one will be at your side. …Our powers, hand in hand, will diminish what is left of the Demon King for the rest of eternity."

Program: Ibis Paint X

Thank you for reading! Check out the first concept doodles of them here! Obviously, this is all very incomplete; but most is planned out thoroughly! If you have questions, just ask!

Art Info: (Check my art blog @nocturnalfandomartist!)

Time Elapsed: 1 hour, 6 minutes

[psychee92]

Why Elain giving back TT is significant [ACOSF & CC Spoilers] 

In ACOFAS, we learn what happened after Elain used TT to stab (or kill) Hybern.

“You honestly think he’d ever give up Truth-Teller?” “He gave it to Elain,” Mor said, admiring a moonstone necklace in the counter’s glass case. “She gave it back,” I amended, failing to block out the image of the black blade piercing through the King of Hybern’s throat. But Elain had given it back—had pressed it into Azriel’s hands after the battle, just as he had pressed it into hers before. And then walked away without looking back. Mor hummed to herself.”

I have seen many people using this argument against Elain having a connection to TT—when, in fact, it means the opposite, especially considering what we learn in both ACOSF and (most importantly) HOSAB.

But first, let’s recap what we know about Elain’s (alleged) connection to TT:

Azriel had never before let another person touch that knife—until Elain.

Elain, who had never used a weapon, accepted it, despite having rejected other options before (remember, Cassian had offered her a weapon prior to her accepting TT from Azriel).

Elain actually used it—and by using it, answered Feyre’s plea for help, thus saving Nesta and Cassian’s life.

When using TT, Elain stepped out of a shadow, something we have only ever seen Azriel do.

And by using TT, Elain ultimately changed the course of the war.

What is also interesting is that we see this scene through Feyre’s eyes—and the Cauldron’s, so we get a glimpse of how the Cauldron feels about Elain.

Now, at the end of HOSAB, we learn that TT is connected to the Starsword.

And what do we know about the Starsword?

That it actually answers to two people, not one. It recognizes and chooses both Ruhn and Bryce.

Yet Cormac glowered at the Starsword peeking over Ruhn’s broad shoulder. “Rumor has it that the sword sings for my bride, too.”

Ruhn seemed to force himself to look at Bryce as he said, “It’s true.” So he’d seen her glare, then. “The sword’s as much yours as it is mine.”

The Starsword deemed Ruhn worthy, and recognized Bryce as kin.

“That your son, not you, retrieved the Starsword from the Cave of Princes in Avallen’s dark heart. That your son, not you, stood among the long-dead Starborn Princes asleep in their sarcophagi and was deemed worthy to pull the sword from its sheath.”

Her sword—it was her sword, and Ruhn’s. And with that light in her veins, with the star that slumbered inside her heart, the Starsword had recognized her not as a royal, worthy Fae, but as kin. Kin to those who had forged it so long ago. Like called to like.

So we now know that TT can also have two owners: one deemed worthy, and one it recognizes as kin.

Because what else do we learn about these weapons?

“That sword belongs to Theia’s female heir. Not the male offspring who corrupted her line.”

These weapons are passed down the female line, not the male.

I am still surprised when I see readers connecting Bryce to Azriel through TT, when we know from HOSAB that the weapons belong to the female descendants of Theia, NOT the male.

Also interesting to note: Bryce does not want the Starsword—does not want to claim it.

“I don’t need a fancy sword to add to it.” “But I do?” “Honestly? I think you don’t know how special you are, Ruhn.” His blue eyes flickered. “Thanks.” “I mean it.” She grabbed his hand, and light flared from her chest. “The sword came to you first for a reason.”

The sword came to Ruhn first—just as TT came to Azriel.

And even more interesting: the scene where Bryce uses the sword.

The Starsword sang with light, her power flowing into it. Activating it. And nothing had ever felt so right, so easy, as plunging the blade into the bony chest of the wounded Reaper. It arced, bellowing, black blood spurting from its withered lips. The others screamed then. So loud she thought the sewer might come down, so loud she nearly dropped the blade to cover her ears.

Which mirrors the scene where Elain uses TT:

But as a black blade broke through the king’s throat, spraying blood, I realized someone else had. Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”

The Cauldron purred in Elain’s presence as the King of Hybern slumped to his knees, clawing at the knife jutting through his throat. Elain backed away a step. Choking, blood dribbling from his lips, the king gaped at Nesta.

Unlike with Bryce, however, we do not have Elain’s POV of the events leading up to this scene, or how she felt during it, so we do not know if the knife responded to her in the same way.

But it does make you wonder: did it feel as right to her, as it did to Bryce? Given how afraid she had been up until that point—vomiting from terror—she appeared as an avenging angel in this scene, almost as if she’s done this before, almost as if it felt right.

Also similar is the return of the sword and knife to the men who found the weapons first, who were deemed worthy to possess them. Despite Bryce using the sword, it returns to Ruhn, and stays with him until he asks her to take it with her.

Similarly, Elain returns TT to Azriel after using it. Will TT find its way back to her? Will Azriel, like Ruhn, offer it to Elain again?

Remember: when Azriel picks up the sword in HOSAB, it does not react to him. We do not see a change in him when he touches it, nor do we see any change in the sword when near the other IC members.

The male’s face didn’t soften as he picked up the sheathed Starsword, then gestured for her to step closer.

Elain is, of course, absent, and I am 99.99% sure that Sarah hinted at her being somewhere nearby (bread and roses) for a reason. Could this be it? Will the sword react to her the same way it reacts to Bryce? The same way the Cauldron reacts in Elain’s presence?

Could Elain activate the Starsword? Did she activate TT the way Bryce did, the way Nesta infused other swords with her power?

“Yes,” Amren said. “Only the Great Powers could do that—Gwydion was given its powers when the High Priestess Oleanna dipped it into the Cauldron during its crafting.” Cassian’s blood chilled, waves rippling over his skin. “One touch from Nesta’s magic while the blade was still hot …” “And the blade was infused with it.”

I still think that Nesta losing most of her powers at the end of ACOSF was done on purpose, to make Elain take center stage in future events. At this point, she is the only being alive who has Cauldron-given powers, similar to the Starsword and TT.

“You stole from the Cauldron,” I said to Nesta, who seemed ready to jump between all of us and Elain. “But what if the Cauldron gave something to Elain?”

And what does Bryce need at the end of HOSAB?

And she had no way to get home. Unless Aidas or Apollion knew how to use the Horn. Had magic that could charge it.

Bryce ends up in Prythian because she is looking for someone who can help. Sarah mentioned during one of her interviews that her ending up in Prythian while looking for help is not a coincidence—help is in Prythian.

With Nesta’s Cauldron-stolen powers mostly gone, Elain is the only one who can both use the Horn and the only one who has the power to charge it.

“Once, the High Fae were more elemental, more given to reading the stars and crafting masterpieces of art and jewelry and weaponry. Their gifts were rawer, more connected to nature, and they could imbue objects with that power.”

“When Briallyn was Made, it likely removed from her the Dread Trove’s glamour, for lack of a better term. Recognized her as kin. Where she might have glanced over a mention of the items before and never thought twice, now it stuck. Or perhaps called to her, presented itself in a dream.” All of them, all at once, looked at Nesta. “You,” Amren said quietly, “are the same. So is Elain.”

[xerith-42]

Garrance Week Day Two! Dreams/Illusion

(Just as a heads up for most of my posts during this, unless explicitly stated, this is Minecraft Diaries, not My Street) (also also I rename Aphmau to Irena in my rewrites so that's the name I'll usually use for her)

"Just breathe, Laurance. It'll all be over soon." Pain seared through every part of Laurance's barely alive body. Barely. But there was that awful part of him that remained mortal. In spite of all the swords that had stabbed through his chest, he was still alive. He was still breathing. It made him wish he was dead.

"NO! LET ME GO!" Laurance's screams fell on deaf ears as a burning sensation crept through his veins, his entire body seized with the feeling. "IRENA!!"

More pain. Even worse this time. His entire body died, his heart stopped, his blood stopped flowing, he could feel himself going cold and yet that burning continued to travel through him. Laurance thrashed against his restraints stubbornly despite the fact that it shouldn't be physically possible. Anything. Anything to get back to her. Anything to see her smile again.

"She left you. Like you deserve. There's nobody to save you now, Laurance."

"NO!!" Laurance shot up, his hand reaching out as he came to. His breathing was fast and shaky, and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. He blinked and the awful vision of that hell faded back to the closest thing he had to home anymore. His empty suit of armor at the end of the room stared back at him.

Right. The guard station. A tear forced its way down Laurance's face. Two more followed. He was home, but at what cost? Ungrith was dead just for him to be here. Laurance was seconds away from breaking down crying. No, keep it together--

The sound of knocking on his door was enough to make the poor man nearly jump out of his skin, in spite of how quiet it was.

"Laurance?" Garroth's voice was painfully soft, barely above a whisper. "Are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine, Garroth," Laurance replied, running a nervous hand through his hair. "Go back to bed."

"I think you're lying to me."

"Please--" For once, Garroth didn't listen. Laurance's door opened, making him jerk his head up. Okay maybe that wasn't the best way to convince Garroth that he was "fine". Garroth took in the appearance of the man before him. Bloodshot eyes with bags under them, shaky hands, and the faint sight of tears. Sure he was fine.

Garroth didn't say anything at first, instead closing the door behind him and taking a seat on his bed. Normally Laurance's armor covered most of his body, but in this state, he was only wearing a loose undershirt that didn't fully cover his arms. Garroth could see the tracing of scars on his dark skin, including some that peeked from under the low collar. Those weren't present before.

"I've heard you before, you know," Garroth confessed. "I know you keep dreaming about what happened there."

"I'm sorry," Laurance whispered.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I didn't mean to wake you. I feel worse that I've made you worry about me."

"We're guards. Worrying is what we do best."

"Worrying about our lord. Not each other." Garroth chuckled, and Irene help him, the sound was so soothing to Laurance. An assurance that he really was safe.

"You and I both know guards worry for everyone around them, not just our lord." Garroth offered his hand. "Care to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Laurance, I know you won't speak to Lady Irena about this."

"I don't want to worry her."

"So I'm asking you to be honest with me." Laurance sighed, pulling his legs out from under his blanket and adjusting so he was sitting next to Garroth on the edge of his bed. "Please." Laurance took a careful breath, before finally taking Garroth's hand.

"Shadow Knights aren't supposed to be made the way I was. Normally they take a still warm corpse to the abyss and start there. Most people aren't unfortunate enough to get trapped there."

"Did you not...?"

"No. Despite being stabbed straight through the chest, I managed to survive. And yet... Yet they still turned me." Laurance's hand squeezed down on Garroth's as he held in a noise of pain. "I-I can't-- I can't do this Garroth. I can't." He pulled his hand away, placing both of them on his head. "I can still hear them. It's like they're still in my head, taunting me..."

"Laurance..." Garroth took his now empty hand and wrapped it around Laurance's shoulder. "It's okay. I'm here to protect you."

It's like those words were magic. The second they left Garroth's mouth, the moment his arm made contact, Laurance broke. The waterfall of tears he had been holding in for weeks suddenly burst, and he was helplessly sobbing into Garroth's arms. He couldn't really form words at first, just collapse into the embrace of the man sitting next to him. And Garroth easily supported him, holding Laurance close and letting him release everything. It was the least he could do.

"It was so awful down there," Laurance finally whispered through his sobs. "It was so painful. All I could do was scream, keep screaming, keep screaming for days and days on end." Another fit of sobs broke up Laurance's ramblings at the memory. His throat started to burn like it did before. "And they kept taunting me. They kept reminding me that I was abandoned. That I was left. That I deserved it--"

"You weren't," Garroth reminded him, which only served to make Laurance sob more. "You know you weren't."

"I know! But I couldn't do anything! I couldn't fight them! I couldn't argue! All I could do was just hope, keep hoping, keep praying to Irene that she was safe. That you were keeping her safe. It's all I could do..." Laurance stopped talking, instead resigning himself to his tears as he leaned onto Garroth for support even further.

"It's okay. You're here now. You're alive, I'm alive, and she's alive. That's what matters, right?" He nodded. "Good. I'm grateful that you were strong enough to survive that. You're stronger than I am." Laurance opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. Instead he buried his head into Garroth's chest and listened desperately to the sound of his beating heart. He missed his own. "You're so strong, Laurance."

Even if he didn't feel very strong, Laurance believed him. Garroth was always hard to get through, always hard to force him to open up. But he was stupidly sincere. He wasn't capable of lying about something like this. He meant every word and Laurance knew it. And he was alive. Laurance worried about his safety almost as much as Irena's. As if Garroth would disappear while he was gone. But he was alive, and here, and he was so warm. So so warm as he held Laurance.

"Thank you," Laurance finally whispered. Garroth never quite knew why, but that was the moment. That was the moment he realized he was in love. Hearing Laurance's soft, broken, tear filled voice thanking him was what it took for the pieces to finally click into place for him. He wasn't just worried about Laurance because he was a friend and a fellow guard. It was because he was in love with him. Oh Irene, wasn't that a thought?

"You're welcome," Garroth said back, fighting the urge to press a kiss to Laurance's wavy brown hair. When he said that he knew there was something else he was trying to say. Three little words that died on his tongue. Not the time. "I'm always here for you, Laurance."

Remember when I said I was gonna write more and that said statement was a lie? I lied twice.

[warsofasoiaf]

Per your request: Godfrey character analysis please?

There's a lot to Godfrey, which is almost confusing given that he swoops in almost out of nowhere after your Tarnished has done all the hard work of collecting the pieces of the Shattered Elden Ring, burning the Erdtree, and releasing Destined Death in combat with Maliketh. The game almost encourages you to fight him down before he swoops in to steal your hard-earned victory right from under you. But Godfrey is far more complex than that, and if you include cut content, he ends up being one of the principal architects behind Marika's scheme.

The Lands Between was not simply an empty land waiting for Marika and the Erdtree. There were rival gods with their own rival orders that Marika had to conquer. Well before the Golden Order, the Erdtree was wild and chaotic, and everything was in opposition to the new way of being. Marika took a fierce barbarian chieftain, Hoarah Loux, whose bloodlust and ferocity knew no equal. As a chieftain, Hoarah desired nothing more than to fight and destroy, and fought with overwhelming strength and beast-like cunning. While we do not know what exactly led Marika or Hoarah Loux to be fine with the arrangement, since everything was in opposition to the Erdtree, it was a perfect place for someone who wanted a never-ending series of battles to fight. He was crowned as King Godfrey, and his axe tells us that knew his own truth, "that a crown was warranted with strength." Through countless victories, Godfrey and Marika turned the Erdtree into the embodiment of Order - far from the wild primeval current that it started out as, where the dew and blessings thereof flowed freely.

As warlord for the Golden Order, the newly-minted King Godfrey restrained his bloodlust but kept up his aggressive campaign of expansion. He sired a son upon Marika, named Godwyn, the Golden, first of the demigods. He turned to the north, to where the Fire Giants kept their Flame of Ruin and worshipped a rival god, the One-Eyed Fell God. Marika had her own rival churches built in her wake, and on the evening of the campaign against the Fire Giants, she implored Godfrey and his warriors, which included allies like the Crucible Warriors, the icy warriors of Zamor, and turncoat lesser giants called trolls.

In game, trolls are hulking brutes typically used as dumb labor (except in Liurnia) with literal swords driven through them as draft animals for caravan pulling, but aside from being an early game headache, they're also full of lore. Their exposed viscera is not a mere visual design choice, it's meant as a comparison to the Last Fire Giant who has the eye of the Fell God on his chest. By cutting it out, they turned their backs on their god and fell in with the Golden Order. In true FromSoft fashion, we're left to speculate why they would make such a radical choice. Their minds are gone, and although it's not said why, the fact that the trolls mutilated themselves to turn away from their god (a wound that doesn't heal), it's not hard to see why. Following Godfrey's victory, Marika kills the Fire Giants save one, and forces him to be the tender of the Flame of Ruin. He still maintains a connection to his god, but he guards his fire relentlessly. Perhaps, like Hewg, Marika's supreme presence (and the failure of his own god) so impressed upon him that he becomes devoted to his mission to the point of losing all sense.

While ceaseless battle suited Hoarah Loux, an Elden Lord to a god and the champion of a Golden Order required more than just might. To suppress the bloodlust that consumed him, he bound that part of himself within a spiritual councilor, Serosh, the beast. Beasts were known to be drawn to lords (and prospective lords, like Bernahl). In many ways, Serosh is a model for early civilization, a transition from tribal belief to civilized life, requiring a command of agriculture enough to build a population surplus. This requires more than warring with the world for daily sustenance, hence, the civilizing effect of agriculture and scientific development mirror Godfrey binding his bloodlust to become a lord.

After his victory, we can chart a rough path of Godfrey's expansion via the numbered Churches of Marika. The First Church is in the Mountaintop of the Giants, then they head west to the Altus Plateau, suggesting that this is when they started to build up the capital city of Leyendell, to create a grand splendor and dispose of the Omens beneath. The Third Church is in the east of Limgrave, suggesting that this is when Godfrey faced the Last Storm Lord in Stormveil Castle in single combat. After that, the Fourth Church of Marika shows that his trek led him to the Weeping Peninsula, where a lone hero seeking vengeance fights Godfrey, only to fall at his hand. Vengeance is one thing, but a crown is only warranted with strength.

After there were no more worlds to conquer, Godfrey wept like Alexander for there were no more worlds to conquer. As they returned from Castle Morne, they were stripped of grace and became Tarnished, exiled from the Lands Between. Where this happened is a mystery. The actual echoes are heard in the Third Church of Marika, but the command continues in the Church of Pilgrimage, where they are commanded to fight, die, and after death, return to the Lands Between. This seems heartless (and in fairness, Marika has her moments of brutality and callousness), but in cut content, we see that at some point, Marika desired to overthrow the Golden Order. She tasked Hewg with designing a weapon that could slay a god (presumably the Elden Beast, as opposed to herself), and she tasked her demigod children to grow strong or be forgotten. Given that some of them pursued paths directly in opposition to the Golden Order, there is a strong suggestion that she knew what was going on and hoped for someone to become mighty enough to slay the Elden Beast. In a cut dialogue, she shares her plan with Godfrey, and he in turn seeks to help her, to become mighty and be granted audience once more. And so Godfrey left, becoming Hoarah Loux once more, fighting until his axe broke and his body was crucified, dying in a nameless world.

One of the most telling hints of how far you've come in the game is in his introductory cutscene. After Morgott fades, the faint hint of grace can be seen in the background. This has been your constant companion, pointing the way to the next objectives. Yet if you see the pattern in the spectacles, it's coming off of Godfrey, and toward you. In Marika's scheme, Godfrey's next task is to go through you, to assert his claim, as "a crown is warranted with strength," and a lord can brook no rivals. In battle, Godfrey fights as a regal lord, with strong axe attacks. He cuts a majestic figure with his spectral lion and flowing blue cloak. He looks like a lord, and fights with strength, but honor. There's predictability and rigidity to Godfrey, the First Elden Lord. If you knock his health down enough, he gives pause. He realizes that his limited strength is not enough. He tears Serosh's head from his shoulders, the councilor that had advised the Golden Lineage, and becomes Hoarah Loux. And fittingly, his stance completely changes. His cloak is in tatters, and he leans forward with a bestial snarl and savage stance. He fights savagely, with big sweeps, wrestling moves, and earth stomps, drenched in blood. This is Hoarah Loux, the warrior that desired to subjugate all before him with no thought of what happens next. It takes the Tarnished's full measure to defeat him. When you do, he falls, but he acknowledges his own mantra to the end. If a crown is warranted with strength, then the superior strength of the Tarnished befits a crown.

Thanks for the question, Mistland.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[dragonologist-phd]

[ surprise ] for piper and arue if it sparks joy!

thank you!! it does, indeed!

[ surprise ] a sudden kiss to catch the partner off guard

also on ao3

Piper’s fingers move slowly over the piano keys, feeling out a slow melody which reverberates through the hall, rising and falling with deep, gentle waves. The music carries a strange nostalgia with it- and no wonder, considering how long it’s been since she’s had the chance to sit herself at such a grand piece of art.

Truthfully, pianos have never been Piper’s favored instrument; they’re bulky, heavy, the last thing that would be useful for someone on the move. None of that means she doesn’t know her way around the ivories, of course, nor does it prevent her from recognizing a quality instrument when she sees it.

“It’s beautiful,” Arueshalae murmurs. The succubus sits alongside Piper on the piano bench, her eyes closed and her shoulders softly swaying as she listens to the music.

“I’ll send my regards to the craftsman,” Piper replies, and she fully intends to actually do so. Most of her recent gifts, she’s ignored; people are ever so fond of showering the Worldwound’s destroyer with tokens of gratitude, but she has no intentions of needing more swords or gilded armor in the near future.

But this? This is something she can appreciate.

As Piper continues to play, her fingers eventually move of their own accord, shifting back to an old familiar song. It’s one she learned long ago; from the last time she had access to a piano like this, in fact. Not a time she cares to remember often…but the song comes back as if it were only yesterday, weaving its way from Piper’s memory to her fingertips, to the chords that sing it out into the open.

A melancholy undertone makes itself known in the music- not one that was intended when Piper first composed the piece, but one which seeps into everything from that time of her life regardless of intention. Notes flow and pick up speed with little effort, twisting memories into melody. Stars, but Piper half-expects to lift her eyes and see Eliyen reclined on the other side of the room, pretending not to watch Piper as she plays.

That was what she aways did, wasn’t it? As if she didn’t want anyone else to know.

Piper is startled from her reverie as Arueshalae’s lips brush against the corner of her mouth, catching her off guard. Her fingers stutter and the music stops, and Arueshalae shrinks away, suddenly embarrassed.

“Oh- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“You’ve nothing to worry about,” Piper is quick to say. “I was lost in thought, is all.”

Arueshalae relaxes at Piper’s reassurance, though some uncertainty remains in her expression. “I didn’t intend to interrupt. You just looked so…sad, for a moment there.”

She gazes so earnestly at Piper, and despite the lingering memories, a warmth spreads through Piper’s chest. The piano bench creaks as Piper leans forward to softly kiss Arueshalae’s lips, her hand reaching up to cradle her love’s face. There is no grand, earth-shattering passion in this moment; the gesture is merely simple and comforting, and they’re both smiling when they pull away.

“Just thinking of old times,” Piper says, her fingers returning to the keys. She plays something new this time, a brighter tune- something hopeful. As the music forms, an idea occurs to her. “Would you like to learn?”

Arueshalae’s eyes go wide with wonder. “Oh- oh, yes, please!”

The two wile away the rest of the afternoon sitting at the piano, Piper’s hands guiding Arueshalae’s up and down the rows of keys. It’s slow going, but note by note and piece by piece they work to make new music together.