#and you sending the master sword to her

[ganondoodle]

back on my zelda thoughts

idk about you but i got sick of zelda running after people with big sorrowful puppy eyes begging them to listen to her(they wont) or to help link in totk pretty fast

[queenpiranhadon]

𖤓⎸⎸ 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⎸⎸𖤓

A/N: You all voted on this poll, and this poll, and this poll, and after a LOT of voting, I present you this :) BIG thanks to @that-multi-fandom-hijabi for beta reading this go follow her writing acc rn (@novaaaaaa-writes). Here's my masterlist! Divider made by @cafekitsune

Warning(s): Enemies to lovers trope, mentions of burning, stabbing, blood, bad descriptions of both fire of water (ice, snow ?) bending, Zuko is whipped, just a little confused about it, reader is a baddie, water benders unite (not me tho), reader is GN but written with f!reader in mind, reader looks non-threatening, is underestimated a lot, this takes place at the end of season one, I think that's it

Pairing: Prince Zuko x GN!Reader

“You shouldn’t be here” you glare, your gaze sending shivers down his spine. 

But that could just be because of all the snow and ice surrounding the both of you. 

The fire prince remains unfazed though, his amber eyes sweeping over your form- assessing the threat you posed. 

He could take you down in seconds. 

Zuko doesn’t respond to your jab though, because he knew you were wrong. He had to be here, it was the only way he could finally receive his father’s favor- as the heir and as the son of Firelord Ozai. It was his duty, his honor. 

And he wasn’t going to let a non-threatening waterbender get in the way of that. 

Reaching back, he unsheathes his dual swords, the glint of the waning moonlight reflecting the dangerous glint in his eye. 

And yet you didn’t back down.  

Pooling some water from your waterskin, you assumed the stance you had trained yourself to take whenever you honed your skills. One with the water, one with the ice.  

‘Power should flow, not force itself” Master Pakku had told you once.  

People had always underestimated your skills, saying you were better suited for healing. But after showing Master Pakku how you could use your bending to control the falling snow around you, he gave you a chance.  

He had told you to let the power settle in your body before releasing, instead of forcing it out immediately. Conceal and then control. 

You met Zuko’s fiery gaze with an icy one of your own. You were going to protect your home.  

With a yell, you form flurries of snow, whipping around your form as you channel your strength to change the form of your flurry, snow turning to water, water turning to sharp daggers of pure ice.  

Zuko scowls, setting his hands ablaze and you run at each other, fire meeting ice.  

Time slows down, as the intensity of your elements picks up, until all you could hear was the steady thump – thump – thump – of your heart, and the roar of crystalline knives swirling around you. 

Flames lick the side of your leg, wincing as the raw burn of the fire sears through your skin in white-hot pain. Razor sharp icy shards cut into Zuko’s skin, finding chinks in his armor, piercing his flesh and drawing blood. 

The snow beneath the both of you was dotted red now, both of you staring at each other, panting heavily.  

“You really shouldn’t be here.” you repeat again, but this time, it was barely a whisper, swallowing down tears as the cold wind of the Northern Water Tribe stung your gaping wounds. 

Zuko growls, grunting in pain as he pulls a shard of ice out of his skin. “I don’t take orders from a little waterbender” he spat, venom dripping from his words. 

You reciprocate with a snide comment of your own. “This ‘little waterbender’ just sunk 5 icicles into your skin.” 

Zuko was just about ready to tear your head off, hands igniting with vermillion flames before you collapse, the burns along your thigh and calf were much more severe than either of you realized.  

You choke out a sob of pain but keep your control of the water left in your waterskin. You couldn’t die, not today, and not at the hands of the prince of the Fire Nation.  

Zuko’s heart throbs unexpectedly, the look on your face too familiar for comfort. The face of someone who worked so desperately hard, only for all that effort to go down the drain. But he didn’t care for you. He couldn’t- couldn’t grow attachment to a non-threatening waterbender. Yet you sat there on the snow, dotted with blood, with that raw look in your eyes. His flames extinguished, without him meaning to.  

You flinched as he threw his swords down frustrated, impaling themselves into the nearby snow mound, standing straight up. 

He stomps over to you, and you frantically move back, but your leg flares up in pain again, and you yelp, hissing in pain. 

“Stop moving, you’ll make it worse.” he says, glaring at you, but not as intensely as he had before.  

You want to scream, kick him, punch him, anything, but your body betrays you as he sweeps you up into his arms, carrying you to the nearest place he can find, where he can keep you safe. You feel his strong arms hook under your knees and under your back, holding you securely to his firm chest. Even through his armor, he radiates warmth, a gentle heat, unlike the flames he threw at you merely minutes ago.  

He hates this, with every fiber in my being, his voice screaming at him to drop you and burn your frail body to a crisp, vengeance for the blood dripping from his own body, but he keeps moving, step after painstaking step. 

You try to stay awake, you really do, yet channeling so much energy from your battle, the numb throb in your lower leg, and the comforting heat radiating off the fire prince who refuses to look at you, you slip into unconsciousness.  

Zuko feels a weight press against his chest, and he huffs, honey-colored eyes catching onto the details of your face, the curve of your nose, the apples of your cheeks, the slight pout of your lips as you nuzzle into his armor unintentionally, how pretty you were when you were at peace. 

He stops himself there, reprimanding himself for thinking such things. He can’t have feelings for the enemy. 

And yet, even as he and his troops head home, battle wearing and dejected from the loss of a major battle, Zuko can’t help but think about his little waterbender.  

*** 

When you wake up, the kind woman tending to you tells you all about the mysterious and handsome man who carried your sleeping form across the entire Northern Water Tribe because he didn’t know where the healing center was.  

[lilibethwrites]

Hello! you would write to aemond x reader. Where she goes to Storm's End, trading instead of her brother, and instead of asking for Lucerys' eye, Aemond claims her as his wife.

To Have and to Hold

Aemond Targaryen x F!Velaryon (Strong)!Reader

Warnings: violence, NSFW, incest

Word count: 3583

A.N: Reader is the middle sister of Lucerys and Jacaerys. This is a good old enemies-to-lovers story with a happy ending.

The family was gathered around the painted table. Plans were made and changed and remade altogether in mere seconds, the lords loyal to your mother scrambling to do everything all at once to secure her rightful claim to the throne.

“Send us, mother. Dragons are faster than ravens,” Jacaerys insisted when the matter of reaffirming old oaths came up.

On your mother’s command, he was to fly south and Lucerys was to fly north, to Storm’s End. Luke agreed to the task, yet you could tell his hesitance from the way he tried to conceal his fidgeting. The rattled nerves made him seem smaller than he was as he hunched over, nodding to the duty given to him.

So you stepped up, though only after the meeting was adjourned. Lucerys was too proud to allow what you have intended otherwise, but you were too fond of your baby brother to let him fly through the treacherous weather of the North alone.

“Mother. A word, please?”

Rhaenyra intended Lucerys to familiarize himself with diplomatic duties which were sure to come in waves following her own coronation. Your proposal was compelling nevertheless. Storm’s End was a flight too difficult for your younger brother to make alone, and you as his companion might soothe his nerves and might even compel Lord Borros Baratheon to be kinder to the message you were to deliver.

“Very well, then,” Rhaenyra reluctantly agreed to your proposal but only on the condition that you would go in peace: as envoys and not as warriors.

The flight to Storm’s End was uneventful. With jokes and friendly teasing, it almost felt like your regular flights above the Dragonstone on beautiful mornings and starry nights. Except there was strong wind and downpour all at once, and Lucerys became quieter as you approached your destination.

“Come on, Luke. I will race you to the courtyard!”

Your dragon was older, not big enough on her own to be considered mature yet, but bigger in comparison to Arrax, which made Arrax faster in contrast.

So Luke landed first, and you were mere minutes behind him.

“Well done, brother. You beat me. You shall have my slice of the pie this supper.”

But Lucerys didn’t seem excited about what would make him jump up and down if it were any other time. He didn’t even smile. He was facing his sister with a hand gripping the saddle on Arrax and the other clutching the hilt of his sword, but his young face was contorted in concern as he looked through her. If you hadn’t known him better, you’d almost misread it for fear.

“What is it?” You asked, but Luke only remained motionless, looking beyond to the walls of the keep.

It was then that you saw it in the flash of lightning that lit up the sky for a moment. Vhagar. She was big enough to make the outer walls of the keep seem like miniatures. You gulped, though remained stoic on the outside for the sake of your younger brother. You accompanied him to support him, not to plummet him down into the endless pit of fear. Vhagar meant, however, the Prince you’d rather see the least had beaten you to Lord Borros. You only hoped he was given a chamber of his own, and you’d deliver your message and slip out without ever facing him.

“Come on, Luke. Let us haste. Mother’s expecting us back for supper.”

The dark and empty hall was as hostile as its Lord. And in the corner stood Aemond Targaryen with one of Lord Borros’ daughters. She seemed tense. You could tell, because so were you.

“Come on, Luke.” You nudged your brother, and he held the sealed message out for the guards.

As the Maester to Lord Borros slowly dragged his feet to his master’s seat and relayed the message to him in hushed whispers, your eyes were trained on Aemond’s. He stood tall and proud, looking at you and your brother with disdain in his eyes and disgust in the way his lips curled up.

Luke clutched his sword once again, and you squeezed his shoulder. “Let go of it, brother. Remember your oath to mother.”

With Luke unable to marry, Lord Borros without a son to offer you, and most importantly, with sweet promises laced with poison seeping into his ear all the way from King’s Landing, Borros Baratheon broke his oath. On any other day, you’d remain and quarrel, threaten the Baratheon forces to bend the knee to the true Queen and not to the Usurper King, but on that day, you wished nothing more than to escort your brother out to safety.

“We thank you for your consideration, Lord Borros,” you spoke without reverence. A turncloak deserved only the traitor’s death. But you’d return for it another day.

Meanwhile, Aemond’s gaze burned into the back of your head as you put a hand on Luke’s back to signal him it was way past your time for departure.

“Wait, my Lord and Lady Strong!” Aemond’s humiliating tone echoed off the walls.

“Luke—”

Fiery as ever, Luke shrugged your hand off and turned on his heels to face Aemond.

“Mind your tongue! Apologize to my dear sister right now!”

“Hm. How about you apologize to me for trying to steal my brother’s crown, traitor?”

“I will do no such thing!”

“Then you are a coward as well as a traitor and I will have your eye, bastard.”

Aemond ripped the dagger from its sheath and threw it flying towards Y/N and her older brother.

With each lightning that struck, the sapphire eye in place of the one Luke once slashed out glimmered. It seemed as if it had a mind of its own, no doubt just as vile and dangerous as its owner.

“As payment for mine.”

“No,” Lucerys stood his ground.

Aemond all but jumped forward then, spurred on by the courage of a boy he saw inferior to him in all regards. Lucerys to stand against him, tall and proud, was a massive hit to his pride.

As Aemond picked up his dagger and moved for Lucerys, you stepped in between your brother and uncle.

“NO! No!”

Your intervention caught Aemond by surprise. He was intrigued, amused, even. What a fine, fiery woman his nephew has turned out to be. Shame she was a bastard all the same.

“Please— Aemond. My Prince. Please—”

“What? Do you plead to pitch in?” he stared into Y/N’s eyes then. He was unyielding, unflinching.

“Luke, go. I command you. As your sister, I command you to leave!” You pleaded with Lucerys, but he stood unmoving behind you.

“Lucerys!”

“No…” Aemond was amused. “No, your eyes are of no value to me. I want his eye!”

Luke would have escaped had it not been for his older sister. He would have turned around and made it to his dragon as you demanded. Yet, only a few acts were more loathsome than leaving kin to the wolves. Besides, Rhaenyra would’ve shredded him to bits and fed him to Arrax for all to see.

So Luke kneeled to take the dagger. Aemond’s request was fair after all.

“Perhaps not my eyes,” You spoke hastily with your hand wrapped around Luke’s wrist in an effort to stop him.

“But demand what you deem worthy of me and you shall have it. I beg of you, Aemond. Let my baby brother return to our mother. He came only as an envoy. He means no harm to you.”

“Hm.” He seemed to consider the offer genuinely that time. “As if you could harm me if you tried. Well, it seems the girl has bigger balls than you, bastard. You’re strong only in name, Lord Strong.”

Then he turned his attention back to you with a cruel smirk that pressed his lips into a thin line.

“You would trade your life, no matter how worthless, for your bastard brother?”

“If it is my life you demand, you shall have it. But allow my brother safe passage first.”

It was Lucerys’ turn to protest then, but you took a step forward, hoping that Aemond would be merciful enough to at least spare your brother the grim sight of the execution of his sister.

“I won’t kill you, dear Nephew. Oh, no. That would be entertainment for what? an hour? No, I will marry you,” His eye widened and he grinned as if a child got a platter of cakes and pies all to himself.

“Go on, then, pup,” He nodded to Lucerys pulling at the sleeves of your damp travelling coat, begging you to stop.

“Go with your worthless life and carry the heavy news to your false Queen—that her daughter is to be defiled by Prince Aemond. Perhaps she will be overjoyed to see what true Targaryen offspring looks like.”

You were trembling then. From standing in a stone hall, dripping head to toe from the downpour you have just escaped from, or from the cruel design Aemond has traded you for your brother’s eye, you didn’t know.

Your brother was looking at you incredulously, clutching Aemond’s dagger with his shaking hand.

“Go—go, Lucerys,” you mumbled between shaky breaths that threatened to explode into a sobbing fit. “You’ve heard Prince Aemond. Relay the news to the Queen.”

“Sister—I won’t leave you—”

“How sad,” Aemond spoke joylessly, mocking Luke with his lips downturned in an exaggerated fashion. “Will you cry, pup?”

“Sister, I shall return. I promise—”

“You will do no such thing, Lucerys,” your back was turned to him, your tears concealed from his vision. “Now go.”

“Oh, and I will have this back,” Aemond reached behind Lucerys, tearing the dagger from his hand and sheating it back to its place on his belt.

Aemond took his leave after Lucerys’, all but dragging you to Vhagar. You grappled to reach for your own dragon but to no avail. Aemond’s vice grip would sooner rip your arm from your shoulder before he let you loose.

“Did you think I would let you fly on your own? What do you take me for, a fool?”

“No. You are no fool. But you are a cruel monster.”

It seemed to please him, and he snorted.

 “A monster who is nought but a bully had it not been for his dragon!”

That, however, seemed to have gotten to him. He stopped in his track under the downpour abruptly and struck you across the face. It was your time to grin. For all his quiet mystery, his underbelly was clear as day.

“My Prince forgets who was there on the night he usurped Vhagar from her rightful successors. You were but a scared child who stole what you did not deserve.”

His fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing so tight that your vision soon turned blurry and you gasped desperately, clawing at his on your throat. There was nothing but fury in his eye, wide with surprise that a woman would speak so plainly to him, and red with rage and the rain.

“Speak but another word and I shall send your skull to your whore of a mother!”

He let go and you collapsed to your knees, coughing and gasping for air. Then came waves of hiccups and sobs, not out of fear or misery but out of utter wrath.

“Save your tears. If it is sympathy you hope for, you shall get none from me. You are a foul bastard just like the rest of your brood and you shall be treated as one.”

Deep down, however, the deal he had just struck excited Aemond. His mouth watered at the thought of his reluctant but fiery bride in their marital bed, as they consummated the marriage and repeated the act over and over again until her belly was swollen and ran around the Red Keep children of Aemond’s own.

She was still a filthy bastard in his eye, yet if he had to choose one of his nieces to tolerate, he’d gladly choose Y/N over the others. Back when they all grew up on King’s Landing, he did have a crush on her, after all. Though it was silly, and he ripped the roots of it long ago. At least he thought so.

Something about her dark hair, livelier complexion, and eyes… her eyes. The defiance and pride in them. And she was brave; braver than most, braver than even his drunk, sorry excuse of a brother and father.

Back at King’s Landing, Alicent was rightfully outraged by the turn of events. Of course, you didn’t expect a warm welcome from your mother-in-law, and you didn’t get one.

Most of your days leading up to the wedding were spent in a chamber of your own with your door locked and latched on you and with a Kingsguard standing watch at all times. It was lonely, except for when Aemond came to visit, which he did almost every night.

He sat by the fireplace and you sat on the bed. Though at first not a lot of words were spoken, soon you realized just how much his conversation entertained you, and that you looked forward to his visits.

It was one of those nights that he stopped by with a heavy book under his arm.

“I had the Maester copy this for you,” he spoke dryly, but he had a hint of a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

He set the book down on the table and flipped through the pages.

“If you put your nose to it, you can still smell the ink.”

Aemond didn’t expect you to indulge him the way you did. You walked up to him, and with your cheek to his, joined him in inhaling the scent of ink on parchment pages.

“What is it about? The book?” You asked with genuine interest, flipping through the pages as Aemond pulled away to look at you incredulously. You weren’t resisting him, dismissing him, or threatening him with a slit throat in his sleep as you usually did.

“It’s—it’s on the history of Valyria. This is the first volume of many.”

“Oh, I remember this book.”

“You do?”

“Yes!” You pulled away with a proud smile of your own. For a moment, you looked like two ordinary lovers conversing by the fire, not enemies who supposed to hate each other and about to be united only as torture for one another.

“Remember Aunt Leana’s funeral?”

Of course he did. That was when you mocked Aemond for not being a dragon rider still, and told him the Gods were cruel not to give him the handsome face Aegon was blessed with. How silly were you back then. But how could you know that Aemond would grow up to be the Prince you’d fall for day after day?

“Yes?” he responded warily.

“Well, you were reading this then. I tore a page out, and you were so cross you told on me to my mother,” you giggled, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder before seating yourself by the fireplace.

Aemond smiled as well, approaching his usual seat cautiously as if not to spook a skittish prey. When you nursed your cup of wine without a flinch, he sat by you. Though his face was turned to the fire, he stole quick glances at your face, your neckline revealed by your evening robe, and your delicate, ringed fingers wrapped around the cup.

“Regretfully, you were fluent in High Valyrian back then and I knew very little, and nothing much has changed ever since.”

“Oh,” Aemond caught your eyes, searching for the dark, burning dislike you had for him that he came to expect. Instead your face was relaxed, and your eyes were almost that of a lover’s. Then, you reached for his hand. It must be the wine, Aemond thought. What else?

“You shall have to teach me.”

“I shall arrange the Maester—”

“I asked you, Aemond, not the Maester.”

From then on, Aemond visited you every night without fail. He came earlier and left later into the night. Though he always brought books, parchment and ink, very little High Valyrian was actually studied. His days were eventful and you loved to listen, and he loved the way you reminisced their days of youth.

So, on a night like that, with your hand on his over the table, you spoke the words that almost stopped his heart.

“I wish you would stay the night, Aemond. It gets awfully lonely some nights.”

He blinked a few times, unsure if his ears heard what you spoke, or what he so desperately wished you would.

“It—it would be improper before the wedding.”

“You took me hostage, Aemond. Traditions are obeyed very little in our marriage.”

That night was the first time you called what was slowly blossoming between him and you a marriage. The words you spoke took him by surprise, just as the way you said them—playfully, with no hatred or resentment.

“You offered yourself up. I was content enough having your brother’s eye.” That was Aemond’s attempt at humour in response, a macabre and perhaps a twisted one that would have gotten raise out of any other woman. Yet you only looked at him for a second, then laughed.

“Yet you did not have to lock me up. I would not have run.”

“No, but my brother would have stolen you from me.”

“Oh, surely. Aegon did promise to demonstrate to me… what was it? Real manhood in case you ever failed to do so.”

“He did?” Aemond frowned. Was that what jealousy felt like?

“Mmhm. I told him I was confident you would make a good husband.”

Though the ceremony was mere days away, Aemond was still not used to being called your husband, especially by you, and he barely got used to wearing a band of gold around his ring finger.

“This would be a good time to say that I would make a good wife, as well,” you joked, hoping to pull Aemond out of his moment of silence.

Instead, Aemond stared at you. He was unblinking and impossible to read. Indeed because his face was impossible to read, it came to you as a surprise when he closed the distance between you and himself and locked his lips with yours.

It was gentle, way gentler than you assumed Aemond was capable of. When he pulled back just enough to study your face, you only whispered “Do it again.”

The caution and restraint went out the window then. His tongue danced across yours and you gripped each other desperately, pulling at your clothes and moaning your names.

Aemond ended up not only staying the night as you asked but consummating your marriage even before the ceremony itself.

It was gentle and cautious at first, but only briefly, before baser and more primal urges overtook you both. You woke up in Aemond’s arms with a dull but sweet ache between your legs and marks in the shape of his mouth and fingers all over your body. Likewise, Aemond woke up with raw lines of skin where your nails had dug into his flesh.

You took your bath together, and Aemond postponed his sword practice for a private noon at the library with you. Though it came as a surprise to neither of you that there was more kissing and touching than reading.

Then, things changed rapidly. Your door was no longer locked, though that might very well be because you all but moved into Aemond’s quarters. You became inseparable. You were there with a book or your embroidery when Aemond trained, you flew together, broke fast and had supper together in his bedchamber.

The only time you regretfully parted was when Alicent—who also surprisingly became like a mother to you, and you a daughter to her— insisted that your fitting for the wedding gown must be kept private and away from the prying eye of the groom. It was bad luck, she insisted, if Aemond saw you in your gown before the ceremony.

“And have you asked mother and the Septa if it is good luck or bad if I have you in your gown?” Aemond teased you, making you blush whenever his words came back to you as the tailors worked ceaselessly to finish the dress before the ceremony.

Neither of you could say if it was indeed bad luck or not, but you found out that it was delightful when Aemond lifted your heavy skirt up and snuck between your legs on your wedding night. He had you in it, just as he promised. Though it was a shame that he grew too impatient to undo the ribbons and laces, so he instead tore and ripped the dress apart, leaving it as a cut of tattered, expensive silk on the floor as the night went on.

You saw the sorry state of the dress in the morning. Well, as much of it as you could see from Aemond’s arms around you, keeping you flush on his body.

“Aemond! You shall never see me wear a lovely dress as this once was for you again!” 

“My sweet wife, you should not wear anything for me,” Aemond whispered groggily, still in the sweet clutches of slumber, and he pulled you for a kiss that promised you would not be leaving his bedchamber for the day.

Aemond Tag (let me know if you'd like to be added to it):

@cherishedauthor @schniiipsel @verycollectivecreator @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @aemcndtargaryen @m1ndbrand @iorveth-scoiatael @let-love-bleeds-red @imakeangelscry @midnightindiewolf @queereddie @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @nighttwingg @mllemarianne @lomllino @tinykryptonitewerewolf @mirandastuckinthe80s @loverandqueenofdragons @fultimefangirl @lenasvoid

[doumadono]

I am a "simper" creature :3

I fall for Sanemi... EKHEM

Sooooo.... I would like to request a SMUT fic with him.

The reader is smaller and weaker, and it seems like he doesn't like her because of that. He is all annoyed and angry... BUUUT... It turns out he simply WANTS her... JUST GIBE ME A SMUT PLS!

Warnings: smut w/o plot, dom!Sanemi, possessive Sanemi, a bit of dirty talking Synopsis: because Shinazugawa-dono appears to have a problem with your every move, you're quite reluctant when tasked with changing sheets in all the Hashiras' rooms, particularly the Wind Hashira's room

DEMON SLAYER MASTERLIST

In the Ubuyashiki mansion, amidst the clanging swords of Hashiras who were training, mastering their skills, and rushing footsteps of other demon slayers, you lived a life of humble servitude. A small, delicate figure, you were often overlooked, except by one: Sanemi Shinazugawa, the Wind Hashira. You worked tirelessly around the Ubuyashiki mansion. Your duties were humble, but essential.

His gruff demeanor and constant irritation with your presence made you wary of him, always trying to avoid his scathing gaze and harsh words. The powerful demon slayer seemed to take issue with your every breath.

One day, as you were cleaning the corridors, Sanemi stormed past, his purple eyes narrowing at the sight of you. "What are you doing here?" he growled, his voice echoing off the walls.

You stuttered an apology, your heart pounding in your chest, and hurried away.

Days turned into weeks, and each encounter with Sanemi left you more flustered than the last. You couldn't understand why he seemed so agitated around you.

Occasionally, you mustered the courage to glance in his direction, marveling at his imposing presence. Yet, whenever he caught you looking, you swiftly averted your gaze.

One fateful night, you were assigned to clean the Hashira rooms. As you approached Sanemi's door, your heart pounded in your chest. You knocked once, twice, but there was no response. You took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, and you could hear the soft rustling of fabric.

Suddenly, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. "What are you doing in my room?" Sanemi's breath was hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You gasped, your heart racing, as his other hand was placed to your hip.

"I don't recall granting you permission to enter my chamber," he snarled from behind, causing you to stiffen.

All you could manage was a hard swallow as you desperately sought a suitable apology. "Sanemi-sama, I apologize for the intrusion, but I received orders to change the sheets in all the Hashiras' rooms," you explained, gasping slightly. His hot breath brushed against the nape of your neck as he pushed your hair to your shoulder.

He spoon you around, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. The roughness of his palm against your soft skin left a burning sensation in its wake, and you gasped yet again. His muscular frame towered over you, and his strength was evident in every slightest movement of his. "Why are you always looking at me?" he growled, his voice deep and rumbling.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I can't help it," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you lowered your gaze. "You're… you're just so strong, Shinazugawa-dono."

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he would lash out at you. Instead, he stepped even closer, sizing your chin so you looked into his purple irises again, his gaze never leaving yours. "You think that's all I am?" he asked, his voice softer than before.

You shook your head, your breath hitching in your throat. "No, I… I don't. I just… I can't help but admire you, Sanemi-san."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Then perhaps it's time I showed you just how strong I can be."

Sanemi's strong arm encircled your waist, pulling you close. His lips found yours in a heated kiss, a fire igniting between you. His breath was hot against your skin as the kiss broke, his scent intoxicating. "I saw every glance you sent my way," he murmured, his voice a deep rumble.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his desire palpable. He traced his fingers down your arm, sending goosebumps rising on your skin, before he moved them to the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head.

And you never protested.

His eyes drank you in, his gaze hungry as he admired your bare skin and the curves of your breasts still covered with white bra, his rough fingertips traced down your exposed shoulders and moved to rest on your waist.

Logical reasoning abandoned you in a heartbeat when the Wind Hashira touched you like that. It was against all reason, yet it felt undeniably right at the moment. You let out a soft moan, your hands reaching for him, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

"Oh, Y/N, look at ya," Sanemi chuckled darkly. He helped you, discarding his crips white shirt in haste. His muscles rippled under your fingertips, his skin hot to the touch. He kissed you again, his tongue darting into your mouth as his hand found the clasp of your bra, freeing you from its confines with ease and expertise.

He led you to his bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He pushed you down gently, his body covering yours. His clothed cock pressed against your thigh, undeniably hard and ready. He trailed kisses down your neck, his hands exploring all the curves of your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You gasped quietly.

His hand slid down your body, his fingers finding the hem of your dress and pushing it up. His fingers found your clit instantly.

You gasped again, your back arching off the bed as he circled it, his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. He slid a finger inside you, his thumb continuing to work your clit.

You could feel yourself growing wetter, your body begging for more. "Sinazugawa-dono…"

"Call me Sanemi already. Done this enough by now, so enough with the formalities, especially when I' fingering your pretty, tight cunt." Sanemi grinned agains your inner thigh, watching how your cunt sucked his finger deeper inside. "Well, Y/N, I would never have assumed that you're such a needy little thing," he cooed.

The scent of his sandalwood cologne hung heavy in the air as Sanemi leaned over you, whilst his fingers were expertly exploring your cunny.

A soft moan escaped your lips, a testament to the pleasure that coursed through your veins.

His touch was skilled, each caress sending waves of ecstasy crashing against your shore. He leaned forward and claimed your lips, scissoring his thick fingers within your pussy, making your legs tramble.

Sanemi's bedsheets bore the evidence of his own desire. His hips moved in rhythm with his fingers, the friction against the sheets a feeble attempt to sate the burning need within him. His hakama pants, once a symbol of his discipline, now served as a prison for his arousal, the bulge unbearable, and you couldn't help yourself but lick your lips at the sight.

Seeing his plight, you reached out, your hands trembling with anticipation. Fumbling with the belt that held his pants in place, you dared to look directly into his eyes.

Sanemi's eyes met yours, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, "Do you want to help me, doll?"

You nodded, your breath hitching as you finally managed to undo the belt. With a swift movement, you pulled down his hakama, revealing the object of your desire. Sanemi's cock stood proud, straining against the fabric of his underwear, and when his fingers pushed into you again, you felt how wet you became.

With a swift motion, he pushed his underwear down, releasing his throbbing member. It stood proudly against his toned abdomen, already twitching with anticipation.

You watched, your eyes dark with desire, as Sanemi took his fingers out of you and licked them, humming at the taste of your arousal. His eyes never left yours as he plunged his fingers back into you, fucking you with a rapid rhythm.

"Aaah," you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper. "Sanemi…"

His name spoken in your soft tone was like a siren's call, pulling him deeper into his game of lust. He pulled his fingers out again, coated in your slick wetness, and used it to jerk his dick a few times. His eyes, dark and intense, never left yours. He looked at you like a predator would eye its prey, and you found yourself wanting nothing more than to surrender to him.

Sanemi quickly tugged your dress down your legs. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric of your panties. With a single, swift motion, he pulled them down too, leaving you completely exposed to his gaze. "Fuck, Y/N, you're beautiful," the scarred man commented, grinning.

"Sanemi," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.

"Say my name again," he demanded, his fingers teasing your clit again. "Say it like you mean it."

"Sanemi," you moaned, your back arching as he plunged a finger inside you again; his cock twitched and a single pearl of pre-cum appeared on its slit.

"Just like that," he praised, smirking at you. "You're mine."

You opened your mouth to protest, but his lips crashed against yours, silencing any objection you might have had.

His kiss was possessive, his tongue claiming your mouth with a ferocity that made your knees weak. Sanemi positioned himself between your legs, his cock nudging at your slick entrance. He looked into your eyes, his gaze possessive. "You're mine," he repeated, before he thrust into you.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he filled you, his cock stretching you deliciously. He was big, bigger than you had ever imagined, and you moaned in pleasure as he filled you to the brim.

He began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful, his heavy balls hitting your slit with each thrust.

You cried out, your nails digging into his back as he began to fuck your pussy.

You could feel every inch of him, your body responding to his touch. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him on. "Harder," you gasped, your body aching for release.

He obliged, his thrusts becoming more frenzied. "You're so small, so tight," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "I could lose myself in you."

You moaned in agreement, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with your moans and cries of pleasure. "Yes, right there," you cried out, as his tip hit that perfect spongy spot. Your pussy was painfully stretched, but you didn't mind.

Each thrust was a testament to Sanemi's strength, his pace fast and hard, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

But Sanemi wanted more, his lust insatiable. His voice, a deep rumble, commanded you to wrap your legs tightly around his waist. With ease, he lifted you, his cock nestled comfortably in your tight cunt, a perfect union of bodies as he got up from his bed.

You clung to him, your fingers digging into his broad , scarred shoulders, your breath hitching as he began to fuck you while standing. Each thrust was a display of dominance, his cock hitting all of your sweet spots with precision. His pace quickening, his cock moving within you with a fervor that left you gasping for air.

The scent of sex hung heavy in the air.

"Faster," you begged, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Faster, Sanemi."

Sanemi's grip on your waist tightened as he fucked you, his movements fast and brutal. Each drive sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, your moans growing louder with each passing moment. His free hand reached up, tangling in your hair as he pulled your head back, exposing your neck to his lips. His teeth grazed your skin, eliciting a moan from deep within your throat. "Mine, mine!" Sinazugawa growled like a wild animal.

The man easily tossed you up and down his fat cock as he continued with forceful, quick pace.

"I'm going to cum," you whispered, your body trembling on the edge of ecstasy. "Oh my Lord, I'm going to cum!"

"Do it," he growled, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass as he pounded up in your cunt. "Cum for me, little Y/N."

And you exploded around him, your body shaking in pleasure as your pussy clamped around his throbbing member. Instinctively, you slipped your hand into his snow-white hair, pulling the spiky strands.

He followed you over the edge, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his cum.

Yet he continued to thrust into you, his movements growing more erratic.

You could feel your second orgasm building, your body tense with anticipation. "Sanemi," you gasped, as you felt yourself tip over the edge. Your body shook with pleasure, your muscles clenching around him as he lay you down on his mattress again, thrusting deeper in your wetness, hooking your legs over his shoulders to change the angle.

He followed soon after, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he found his own release for the second time, milking your clenching, drenched walls with his thick cum. He collapsed on top of you, his breath hot against your neck. "Mine," he murmured again, his voice soft and content.

Slwoly, he withdrew his dick out of your pussy. He watched with a mixture of awe and pride as his release poured out of you, dripping down your slit and onto his sheets. A satisfied grin spread across his face, his eyes still locked onto yours. "Fuck, what a mess," he mused, and your cheeks flushed.

"I apologize," you whispered, but your words were sealed with the kiss he bestowed upon you – a kiss that proved to be the softest you had ever experienced in your life.

Sanemi rose, seemingly unfazed by his nakedness, and reached for some sheets from the bed to clean his cock, covered in your mixed releases. Throughout, his gaze remained locked with yours. After throwing the sheet onto the wooden floor, he proceeded to put on his hakama pants. "It seems you've arrived just in time to change my sheets to fresh ones, Y/N."

additional tag: @mrskokushibo - because I know you like Sanemi

[utterlyotterlyx]

My Tears Are Becoming a Sea

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Azriel wished that you’d wake up in time for Starfall, that you’d be home to see the souls cross the sky. The war against Hybern had wrecked you, and he couldn’t bear to be away from you for another moment.

Warnings - angst, sad boy Azriel, mentions of death and blood, some self loathing, but a beautiful happy ending for our Shadowsinger 🤍

They'd won.

But none of it meant anything if you weren't there with them.

Hybern had been defeated, they had won the impossible battle thanks to you, thanks to your skill, your power, and that shattering determination to find the upper hand your family so desperately needed.

You had disappeared without a word just after the High Lords meeting, after realising that the forces you needed lay beyond the capabilities of armies and blind hope. Azriel knew better than to stop you, he traced the line of your jaw as he kissed you for what could have been the last time. He savoured the taste of your lips, your scent, that smile that had the power to command the attention of anyone or anything.

There were no words that any of them could say the moment they saw you on the battlefield, you stood above them clad in your leathers wearing a sadistic grin as Bryaxis and the Weaver stalked from behind you whilst they all waited to meet their fate.

Azriel puffed his chest out with pride, glancing to Cassian with a smirk. That's my girl.

You were a formidable force, bending the elements around you like it was your mother tongue, sending spears of fire and ice through the chests of whoever opposed you, allowing the ground to swallow whole groups of soldiers as you passed by. Your sword was an extension of your soul, a cunningly beautiful thing, curved and sharp, and coated in the blood of your enemies which had also splashed across your cheeks.

His shadows were in awe of you, a horribly fierce awe as they watched you cut down man after man, paying little mind to anything else other than making sure that Feyre and Amren reached the cauldron.

That wretched thing.

The cauldron had broken. Feyre needed to put it back together. Feyre needed the power to put it back together.

Azriel watched as you tackled Rhys to the ground, as you threw up a shield around yourself and Feyre so that she had no choice but to use you. To take everything you had to stop the world from crumbling into dust.

Feyre had wept and screamed as she held you in her arms, her fingers pushing the hair from your face as she rocked back and forth, begging your soul to return to your body. Azriel fell to your side and pulled you from Feyre's gasp, his shadows flittered anxiously over your face and body whilst their master pressed his lips to your eyes, pleading the High Lords around him to do what they did for Feyre, to bring you back to him.

Each High Lord offered a kernel of their power, even Feyre had thrown in her own in hope it would made a difference.

Rhys had held him tightly as your soul returned to your body, his sobs wracked his chest when your own began to rise and fall in a healthy rhythm. You didn't wake though.

After days of Madja fussing over you, she had exhausted all of her options. You were warm, your heartbeat was strong and your lungs were functioning as they should be, there was no reason why you shouldn't have been awake and telling Azriel how much you loved him.

He had refused to leave you, his shadows less willing to do so, they loved you so dearly to the point you often found a couple of rogue shadows perching on your own shoulder instead of your mates. Deep circles clung to his hazel eyes that were dark and dreary, he hadn't eaten, he just sat beside your cot and held your hand, noting how peaceful you looked in your eternal slumber.

Much to his rage, it had been decided that Helion would transport you to the Day Court with the promise that his army of healers and researchers would find a way to bring you back. Rhys had agreed, willing to try anything to bring you back to your family, and had to order Azriel to stay away from you whilst Helion gave it his best shot. They couldn't have a grief stricken Illyrian forbidding anyone to touch you.

Velaris felt empty without you. The bakeries were far too full and the children too quiet. The Sidra begged for your fingers to run through her ripples, to caress her with that power that complimented her own so perfectly.

The world just felt darker without you annoying them, prodding Cassian with stupid jokes or dragging Mor dress shopping, even Amren was missing your feet propped on her lap whilst she tried to research, and Nesta yearned for your intelligent observations on the plot holes and desires for the books you shared.

Feyre had become a shell, busying herself with preparations for Starfall so that she would forget how guilty she felt for a moment.

Starfall was your favourite thing in the world, nothing bar Azriel could bring so much joy to you. The music, beautiful outfits and food were just minor aspects in comparison to the main event, when those stars would hurtle across the sky and illuminate it with that hot white glow.

Azriel had always found himself stood behind you, arms wrapped tightly around your waist and chin resting atop your head as you both watched in awe. It never ceased to amaze either of you.

This year was different. No amount of flowers or pastries could distract anyone from the fact that you weren't there. He should have stopped you, gotten to you quicker before you could attack Rhys and take his place; you should have just let Rhys give his power, he would have recovered quicker, everything would have been fine.

Mor had tried to get Azriel to dance, but he didn't want to dance with anyone who wasn't you. All he wanted to do was go back to your shared room and wrap himself in your scent so he could dream of you, the only place you were alive and chatting idly about some random fact you'd found in a book that sent your mind spiralling into balanced wonder.

"She wouldn't want you to stand on the side lines, Az," Cassian clapped his shoulder, trying to coax his brother to partake in something this Starfall, for you.

Gasps echoed about the room, a sign that the main event had begun. Usually, you'd be jumping up and down in your spot with excitement, clutching to his fingers as you dragged him from the room and out to the private balcony you had both made yours.

Males and females floated out of the arched doorways, but Azriel stayed behind, not being able to think of witnessing a single Starfall without you.

Burying his hands deep into the pockets of his black pants, Azriel moved in the opposite direction to the enthralled crowd, not being able to stomach even pretending to be happy. With no particular place in mind, Azriel walked, down winding hallways and up a set of steps, along the arched walls until he fell into place in front of a set of familiar doors.

Doors that you had practically torn the handles from one year from the sheer uncontrollable excitement to get outside before either of you missed it.

Azriel sighed, wiping the corners of his eyes, he sniffled softly as he took the handle in his scarred fingers, feeling electricity pouring through it, so intense that he had to pull away with a frown. He stood there for a moment, unsure and bewildered by the sensation.

Then he felt it.

He felt the familiar scent flood where he stood, the shadows reacted quickly, darting to the handle and dancing over the door, fighting for it to be opened.

It couldn't be. Helion would have told them if you had awoken.

It couldn't be.

Azriel flung the doors open and his shadows surged forward, there you stood, your back to him, dressed in Day Court gold with a solid gold halo encasing a full braided bun. The shadows reached you first and you giggled as they kissed every inch of your face, and gods, did that sound have him melting into a blubbering mess.

You turned to him, your mate, and opened your arms to him, ones that he gladly stepped in to. Azriel wrapped his arms around your waist, he ran his fingers over your skin, he left lingering kisses in the nape of your neck and along your shoulder.

"You're home," he strained, sobs of pure happiness tugging at his throat as he pulled away from you, looking down into those eyes he adored too much.

You moved a piece of his hair away from those pools of brown and green, closing the gap between you as the sky came to life, allowing your love to explode around you whilst the world above and below held a calm breath.

"I couldn't full well miss my favourite night of the year, could I?"

Azriel pressed his forehead to yours, stared into your eyes and drank in every single part of you, his fingers not once moving from your body, "You came back to me."

"I'll always come back to you, Az. Always."

Authors Note

I needed something fluffy after my gut wrenching Eris post before.

I'm halfway healed.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

No masters or kings (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Aemond has issues around sex. The thought of being married to you, an angel, it's not helping.

Warnings: Angst (w/happy ending) Religious guilt, repression around sex. Kissing. Thoughts of sex, but no actual smut. Just angst and fluff.

Requested: Yup! Modern reader falls into Sept x Aemond

For as long as he could remember, Aemond had been alone. He had been an outsider to his siblings and nephews, all with a dragon. He had been an outsider to other noble children, marked apart by his distinctive features. He had been an outsider to his father's family, Rhaenyra and her children.

The loss of his eye had only exacerbated that. The girls at court were frightened by the sight of him, and he often worried about how he could secure a match. No longer activities he had found solace in, like studying and swordplay, came easily. Everything, from reading to being able to walk down the stairs without tripping, had to be relearned.

His faith in the Seven had permeated all of his childhood. His mother was the only person to pay attention to him, even if it was sometimes in a way Aemond could not appreciate. When he thought of her, his mind's eye always conjured her with a seven pointed star hanging from her neck.

Aemond had tried his best to keep her happy. She was all he had. So instead of running from his lessons and incurring on indecent behavior, Aemond had closely listened to the Septons that educated them. He had prayed daily. He had read the Seven Pointed Star and annotated its passages, committing them to memory.

Paradoxically, the time when he felt closer to the Gods was after the loss of his eye. It had been then he had truly understood what it felt like to be favored by the Seven. His faith demanded sacrifices, but always rewarded them. An eye for a dragon. The biggest dragon in Westeros.

Sacrifice will bring good things. It was a very simple lesson, but one he committed to memory regardless.

As a child, Aemond had not prayed for a dragon. Nor had he prayed to the Warrior to make him strong and able to defeat his enemies. When Aemond was a child, he had often prayed for a friend. Asking for the Maiden to send him someone kind. An angel. He had never spoken it out loud, afraid of appearing weak. Children were such cruel creatures, after all. But Aemond never forgot to ask the Maiden for it.

Aemond prayed. And suffered. And prayed, and suffered, and thought that at least this life he was leading, of loneliness and desperation and so much fear, would finally account for something. For the Gods favored those who suffered and sacrificed, and if his reward didn't come in this life, it would come in the next one.

His prayers were always the same. Each morning, before anyone else could rise except for the lowliest of servants, Aemond went to the Sept. He spent equal time in front of each of the Seven's effigy and lit a candle for them. He prayed in silence, asking of them simple things. Aemond knew he already led a privileged life, so he did not dare ask for more.

His prayers were so ingrained, he recited them with little thought. Yet, when he came to the Maiden, Aemond always fumbled. With the other Gods, he knew exactly what to ask for. But with Her, he only felt unease. So he rapidly mumbled his childhood prayer, and moved on. It had become a tradition, even if he was no longer the appropriate age to pray for friends.

Aemond knew it was the wrong thing to do. When you were praying, you were supposed to be present. To think of all the aspects of the Seven with the devotion they deserved. But when you are taught as a child to pray, it turns into instinct.

Just as someone who has trained enough with the sword barely thinks about his next move, someone who prays enough doesn't need to think about what they will ask next. It's too ingrained.

At this hour, the Sept is quiet. Aemond enjoys praying here instead of in the one inside the Red Keep. There are no court ladies around to bother him, nor an Aegon making mocking noises while he tries to pray. Despite wanting to join his mother in prayer sometimes, he just couldn't take the royal sept. It lacked the peace septs were supposed to make you feel.

He leaned down, lighting a candle before each effigy, and muttering his usual prayer.

“Warrior, give me strength.” Aemond whispered. He lit the candle and moved on. “Mother, protect my sister and my mother. Father, bring your justice upon my enemies. Maiden, bring me someone kind. An angel.” And as he kneeled to light her candle, something hit him from above.

The weight of the thing was too great for him to remain upright. Aemond was sent sprawling to the floor. His head slammed on the stone floor of the Sept, making him grunt. A woman screamed. Probably, one of the commoners visiting the Sept. They were few at this hour, most having already begun their labors. Her scream was echoed by one of another woman, and soon, hurried footsteps were nearing him.

Aemond tried to sit up, reaching a hand out to move the weight aside. What he gripped, made him fall back down.

Cloth. Cloth covering something soft, something that yielded under his hands. An arm. You. The Gods had answered his call. There was a woman right on top of him, eyes closed and expression smooth, as if in peaceful sleep. The Maiden had sent him an angel, after years of solitude and sacrifice. You were his reward.

Aemond lifted you and set you aside, on one of the benches of the Sept. A couple of the commoners hurried forward, to gape at you, but Ser Criston stopped them.

“A miracle! A miracle!” Someone was screaming, and you twitched. More and more commoners started to pour through the entrance of the Sept, all gawking and murmuring about the woman who had appeared out of thin air.

The people were bright-eyed, frenzied by the demonstration of the Seven's power. They started pushing at Ser Criston, and trying to touch Aemond and you.

Cole and Aemond exchanged looks. If no one controlled the crowd, they might very well end up being torn to shreds by them, in their frantic attempts of touching the holy being they were guarding.

Aemond unsheathed his dagger.

“I think… We need a Septon.”

You were being carried somewhere. You could tell because your head swayed with the movement, unsupported. It was giving you terrible neck pain.

“If she has fallen out of the sky, and there is no hole….”

“A miracle! A miracle! The Seven have…” Fuck, your head hurt, and the woman screaming was not helping things. You flinched, trying to curl into yourself. This felt like the worst hangover ever, and you had no leverage to avoid the noises, since you were hanging in midair.

“The Prince must be held in high regard, for clearly the Gods favor him. Thousands of people pray here daily, yet the Maiden herself answered his plea.” The man from before continued speaking.

Someone else scoffed.

“Surely, this is a bit much. The Prince is hardly…”

“Shut up, Cole.” The person who was carrying you barked. The movement his chest made when he was talking made you fearful of falling down. Despite the strength in his grip, you weighted more than a few sacks of flour or a gallon of milk. People were not supposed to carry other people for long, unless they were frat boys attempting to impress girls or some sort of soldier.

You tried to sit up, the movement making all your body ache. Where were you? Why were you being carried? The last thing you remembered was going into an occult museum with a friend.

Everyone has that one friend. The slightly witchy one who believes in ghosts and crystals and whose favorite month of the year is October. The one who likes terror movies, and scary podcasts and dragging you to haunted houses and escape rooms.

It will be fun, they said. It's an occult museum, what could possibly go wrong?

Where the fuck were they? You were so going to strangle them for getting you… Wherever you were.

“My Lady.” The man holding you said. You looked up and met a pale blue eye and an eye patch. You startled. He looked straight out of a low-budget pirate movie, all in leather. “Are you alright?”

“What happened?” You lifted your head, noticing everyone was cosplaying as medieval priests and knights. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach. The man holding you looked an awful lot like Aemond Targaryen. You would recognize that ensemble anywhere. You had read enough fanfics for it. “Is this a renaissance fair? A comic con?”

It was worth the shot. Perhaps something happened to you and you had stumbled into a comic con? But was it so easy to stumble into one? You thought the tickets for those were expensive, they surely wouldn't just let you in.

Something had happened to you and these kind cosplayers who were… Doing something decided to help you? That seemed more likely.

“No, my lady. This is Westeros. The earthly one.” The man dressed in the more expensive costume of a priest was speaking. He had an elaborate head accessory, billowing robes and some strange pentagram with way more points than usual. His voice was the one which had been muttering about a Prince, and being favored.

“What is a renaissance fair?” The man had the oddest combination of a white cloak and armor. You looked at the man and froze. He was… Oh, what was his name again? Oranges guy!

“Something they must have in the Seven Heavens.” The expensive priest answered, in a matter of fact tone. “Clearly. The Prince asked for an angel. Angels reside there.”

Your mouth was hanging open. They thought you were an angel. Holy shit. You looked down, at your scuffed sneakers and clothes. You didn't feel very angelic, but like hell if you were going to miss the opportunity of receiving royal treatment in Westeros. If you truly were here, you would rather not learn how the lower class lived.

Another priest turned to you. He was dressed as expensively as the first one, but he lacked the head accessory.

“Tell us, young lady. Were you an attendant for the Maiden? What are the Seven Heavens like?”

You panicked. Perhaps pretending to be an angel from a religion you had no clue about was not a good idea. These questions would continue, you knew it.

“Don't be ridiculous, Eustace. Everyone knows that angels can't divulge that sort of thing. It's basic theology. They come to fulfill their purpose, not to entertain fools.” The man with the head accessory spoke, as if talking to a child.

You did your best to sit up. Aemond held you more firmly, and raised his arm on your back, encouraging your head to loll towards his shoulder. You were moving inside a prehistoric looking building, corridors made from stone and decorated with tapestries. The Red Keep, perhaps.

“And what do you believe the being’s purpose to be?” Eustace asked. You did not like being referred to in such a manner, and you fought Aemond's grip a bit harsher. He merely settled you against him and kept walking, this time going up a stairwell. You squirmed.

“The Prince's wife. He prayed for a companion. That must be it.” The expensive priest, Septons they were called, now that you remembered, seemed to have become an expert on all things you. Wisely, you kept your mouth shut.

“Is that why her attire is so immodest?” The oranges guy spoke, reaching for you. He clearly noticed his Prince was struggling and hoped to relieve him of the burden. You clung to Aemond more tightly. You were honest enough with yourself to know you had many impure thoughts about him, and were not going to lose your chance.

Aemond grunted. Encouraging him to keep carrying you beyond his capabilities might not have been your best move.

“You can put me down. I can walk.” You spoke softly, trying to sound your most angelic.

“We are nearly there.” His voice sounded agitated from the physical exertion, but his tone screamed danger. It would wound his pride putting you down now, you realized. He wanted to look strong. “There is no need.”

“The Gods see all, and angels are pure beings. They do not know of such earthly concerns, for they have not been exposed to the sins of the flesh.”

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, sure that you were dreaming. This was turning crazier by the second.

“That is a crass word here, my lady.” Aemond whispered to you. “You shall not repeat it.”

Safe to say, you were learning your lesson. When an occult museum artifact has a sign that says, “Do not touch” you DO NOT TOUCH.

Marrying an angel was not a part of Aemond's plans. Begrudgingly, he admitted he may have to reconsider his more violent revenge plots. Aemond had to prove himself worthy of you, and for once, worthiness did not mean prowess with a sword or riding a dragon. It meant piety.

Piety. Kindness. All the virtues that the Faith enforced and that you were made of. All the virtues Aemond felt he lacked, sometimes.

Taking his nephew's eye would not be kind. You had explained so, as if you could read his mind. You also said that Aemond should not attempt to force him to pay his debt. It had been an alarming show of clairvoyance.

That you were privy to his most secret inner thoughts should not have surprised him so. It was only further proof of your angelic nature.

Your arrival had the Kingdoms in an uproar. The Citadel had wanted to record the circumstances around your appearance, the Faith had made you pose for a portrait. Some even dared utter that perhaps Aemond was better suited to be King, since the Gods clearly favored him.

The King was displeased, but your miraculous arrival had been witnessed by too many to deny it. Aemond had been authorized to marry you, only out of sheer pressure from the High Septon. You were a hero to the man. Families who had been worshiping the Old Gods for generations now rushed to convert. Only House Targaryen remained stagnant.

Even after your marriage, Aemond struggled to catch a minute alone with you. Anywhere you went, people were currying for your attention. If it wasn't his other asking you to join her in prayer, it was some Septon asking you questions, or near mobs awaiting outside the Red Keep for you to appear on a balcony. People thought your touch was magical, that you could heal the sick and bless the innocents. Aemond had to fight to keep their hands off you.

As the wife to a Prince favored by the Seven, all thoughts of going back were stomped on. You had mentioned it once or twice, before he had married you. Going back home, you had said. Aemond understood that the earthly world was much different than where you had been from, and the homesickness that came with it, but he hoped you forgot such silly ideas. There was no way for you to go home, and if there was, he would not allow it.

In hopes of distracting you, his mother had suggested expediting the wedding. Aemond had agreed, but he had soon realized that it was not enough. While sweet and kind to him, and clearly loving, your mind still drifted to thoughts of your life before. Something stronger was needed. And there was only one stronger bond than marriage. He had to put a babe in you.

Such thing, unfortunately, was much harder than expected. To produce a child, a couple needed to lay together in ways Aemond and you had not. You were loving, pressing kisses to his lips and cheeks every chance you had, but it was a pure kind of affection. You had been told that you were his wife, and what that entailed, innocent being that you were. It didn't mean anything. You were only trying to do what you thought was needed.

Aemond didn't dare touch you. It was his right to do so, but he was unsure if it was the moral thing to do. You probably weren’t too sure of the connotations of the act and all that it entailed. Besides, was it really his right? You were no ordinary woman. You were an otherworldly being, an angel, a perfect woman carved out by the Maiden herself and sent to him to love and cherish. You were not meant to be hurt or tainted in any way.

Intercourse was dirty. It hurt maidens, and it was a sin when practiced outside the marriage bed. Despite always pleasurable to him, and sometimes to his companions, Aemond was not too sure he should submit you to it.

You were heavenly. Asking you to have intercourse with him would be asking you to roll around in the mud while wearing a white dress. It would make you earthly, change you. And you were perfect just the way you were.

Yet Aemond could not contain these… Urges. When you kissed the corner of his lips, all he could think about was grabbing you and deepening the kiss until he got to know every inch of your mouth. When you hugged him close, letting him curl around you at night and hide his face on your neck, Aemond thought of kissing and bitting and sucking the supple skin until you were writhing in pleasure. When your hand innocently grazed against his thigh, he thought of his hands squeezing your own thighs, pulling them apart to reveal your core.

It was a sinful way of thinking. He knew it was wrong of him, but he could not stop. He could not control it. If only his waking thoughts were sinful, things would be different. Waking thoughts could be controlled. Dreams could not.

Every night, without fail, Aemond woke up drenched in sweat, breeches uncomfortably tight. He saw you in his dreams, in all sorts of lurid positions. Your pretty lips parted, your thighs fluttering open and closed like the wings of a butterfly. You on your knees, back, your bosom spilling from your bodice, your pretty breasts, nipples puffy. His mouth, his hands, his cock, on you, in you.

The dreams were pleasurable while they lasted, but as soon as Aemond woke up and saw you sleeping peacefully next to him, the guilt returned. You let out the tiniest puffs of air when you breathed, and always chased his warmth on cold nights. Adorable being that you were, you curled into him, unaware of the turmoil you caused.

Aemond could no longer take it. At first, he tried looking for answers to his dilemma inside of books. He soon found out his studies of philosophy and history had not prepared him for the monster that was theology.

So he asked for advice. To the only person who had to be an expert on the topic. The High Septon.

By the end of the day, a panel with four Maesters and ten Septons had been formed to discuss the issue.

“She is a pure being. The Queen and a Septa have confirmed that she has female anatomy, but having it does not mean she should be defiled.” One of the Maesters spoke, frowning. Aemond nodded along. It had been like he thought.

“It's hardly defiling if the Maiden gifted her to the Prince. She blessed the union.” The High Septon argued, sitting straighter in his chair. He clearly was uncomfortable at the thought of Maesters, of all people, interfering in these matters. What Aemond could not figure out was why the man had invited them if they clearly ruffled his feathers.

“The Maiden is a maiden. That's the whole point.” Another Maester rolled his eyes. It was a sound logic. Aemond felt even guiltier after hearing that. Thinking about you in such a manner was impure. You were a representative of the Maiden herself, here on Westeros. Even thinking of such dirty things near you was disrespectful. It was as if he were thinking them about the Maiden herself.

“Well, yes, but if you ask for a wife, is it not implied?” Septon Eustace chimed in. Aemond had never particularly enjoyed the royal Septon, but he was proving to be very useful. “I do not presume to know how the Prince words his prayers, nor do I think I can know his intentions, but…”

A companion. Someone kind. The prayer had started innocent enough, a child asking for a friend. Aemond had kept it worded exactly as it had been back then, when he was eight years old and dragonless. But he had grown, and so had his intentions. When he spoke of a companion, did he still think of a friend? Or rather, a wife?

The word companion indicated someone that assisted, that served to cater to a necessity. Not quite a friend, but someone to ward off loneliness. A somewhat inferior being, even. It was a term used to refer to pets, after all.

Women were precious beings. Images of the mother, to be treasured and protected, but never equals. Wives were, after all, lower than husbands. It was why they must be obedient to them, why they should mind the children and the home. They were not made to stand on their own. Women were made to stand next to a man.

Besides, wasn't it interesting? The Gods could have sent him a man. A boy. A dog. But instead, they had sent him a woman near his age, with pretty eyes and a tempting mouth.

“Hardly.” A Septon interfered. “There has been precedent of marriages that…”

“Marriages declared null.” The High Septon snapped. His mood was a reflection of the room. The conversation was starting to turn more and more heated, murmurs breaking out among the gathered. It brought uncomfortable memories of the day Aemond had met you and had to fight a frenzied mob. He had the feeling this was going to turn into that quickly.

Perhaps sensing the same, another Maester spoke.

“Why don't we ask her? She must know the Seven's will in the matter.”

Neither of the fourteen other men in the room had thought of that.

When Aemond asked you, timidly, if you wished to consummate the marriage, you could have danced from joy.

You had decided early on that if going back was not an option, you were going to make the most of your stay here. You missed your family and friends, but your life here was so pampered that you didn't feel so bad. Any quirks of behavior that you had were excused as part of your angelic nature, and you had the biggest crush on the man who had married you.

If only Aemond didn't refuse to even touch you. So far, you have tried everything. You have kissed him. Stroked him. Cuddled far too close to him, so you are nearly on top of him. Groped his thigh, almost his cock. Your behavior has bordered on indecent even by modern standards, yet Aemond dismisses it all as innocent. He is either the most oblivious man on the planet or he doesn't want you.

That suspicion had given you pause. If Aemond did not want you, you weren't about to force him to do so. You had stopped with your insistent touching, and went back to light kisses on the cheek. Instead, you had made the mistake of looking around.

You are so horny it's driving you mad. Being married in Westeros is not what you thought it would be. You expected much more sex. Besides, everyone here was insanely good-looking, especially the man sleeping next to you and waking up every morning with a raging erection. Anyone with a sliver of a libido would be frothing at the mouth and clawing at walls from horniness.

In your other life, you had watched HOTD and understood the message clearly. Despite being a common occurrence, cheating was not a good idea. There were no reliable contraception methods and no way of preventing STDS.

Even if you were not aware of all the possibles consequences of cheating from your knowledge about the show, you now knew Aemond. He was terrifying, devout, and hated his bastard nephews. You did not want to see what he would do if he caught you cheating.

So here you were. Into forced chastity and perpetually horny, with your husband asking you if you thought it was a good idea to consummate the marriage.

You could have jumped from the bed in your haste to show him exactly what you thought. But you had to maintain your air of an otherworldly being. Which you technically were, since this was not your world.

“Whichever you think best, my Prince.” You answered, voice soft and patient. Just as you had always spoken in his presence. It had done wonders to make Aemond seek your company. He found you soothing, or so he said.

Aemond reached forward. His hand cupped your cheek, very gently. You looked up at him with your most innocent eyes.

He lowered his hand, shoulders slumping in defeat. You tried not to let it show how much it hurt you to have all you wanted dangled in front of you and then taken away.

“I cannot touch you. Nor should I lust after you. You are…” Aemond’s eyebrows pinched together. His face showed an inner conflict that made your own heart soften. Perhaps he had grown to care for you, in the ways you wished he did. He just didn't think it appropriate.

You stepped closer. This time, it was your hands that cupped his face. Aemond's eye closed, briefly. He seemed to be enjoying the touch, committing it to memory.

“Kiss me.” You whispered, pulling him close. Aemond went into the hug, nuzzling your hair. Despite the sweetness with which he responded, his frame was tense. “Please. I beg it of you.”

“I can't. I can't defile you.” He sounded truly strained. You rubbed his back, gently. “ A perfect being, such as yourself, does not deserve this.”

“It won't hurt. I know how to do it.” You explained, softly. Perhaps he worried about hurting you, you thought. You were no blushing virgin, but Aemond did not know that.

“Of course. You are an enlightened being. But it does not mean you have to put that into practice. You must know of the mysteries of death, yet you have not hurt anybody.”

“Because killing is wrong.” And truly, it was a ridiculous comparison. Sex had not killed anyone, at least that you knew of. It was not meant to hurt.

“Sex is, too. It's only for making heirs, and I am a second son. I don't need heirs.”

And by the look of his face, Aemond really believed what he was saying. The thought of him suffering, of being so deeply repressed, hurt you. You understood well how damaging thinking about sex in that way could be.

It hurts you more to think it might have been exacerbated by you. The thought of you being this perfect soul, someone so pure and easily hurt, and then the thought of tainting you. It said a lot about his mental health.

You vowed then you would aid you in any way you could.

“It's not wrong.” You whispered, and moved slightly back from his embrace. “Let me show you.” And you were kissing him, and Aemond was kissing back. His lips were soft, and he held you as if you were the most delicate glass vase he had ever held. You understood him now. And one day, Aemond would understand this too.

[just-aake]

Boundless Devotion - Part I

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Warnings: slight angst

Words: 1991

In the training yard of the castle, the sound of clashing steel fills the air as the Captain of the Royal Guard, Steve Rogers, faces off against the eldest princess and heir to the Romanov kingdom, Princess Natasha. 

The sun shines on the area as the two circle each other, carefully watching the other’s movement.

Surrounding them, some of the castle’s staff and the other knights pause in their activities to watch the match with anticipation. 

The captain lunges forward first, his polished sword gleaming in the sunlight. With a swift flourish, he aims a diagonal strike at her midsection.

In response, Natasha sidesteps the attack gracefully, her own blade moving smoothly to parry his sword.

The crowd watches with rapt attention as Steve continues to press forward with additional powerful swings, but the princess evades every strike, stepping as if she were dancing.

On a particularly powerful thrust, Natasha ducks under his attack, extending her arm to him. Then with a twist of her wrist, she expertly hooks her blade around his sword’s hilt and applies pressure. Using his momentum against him, she jerks the sword out of his grasp, sending it spinning through the air. 

The blade lands with a clatter several feet away.

Then in a swift and uninterrupted motion, she hooks her leg around the back of his knee, sweeping it out from under him. 

Her sword points at the captain’s chest in victory, ending the battle, as cheers and applause erupt around them.

With a quick twirl, Natasha holds her sword behind her before extending her hand to the captain. Steve gives her a grateful smile and takes her hand as she pulls him to his feet. 

He dusts himself off before giving her an exasperated look.

“Did you really need to show me up in front of my knights?”

Natasha gives him a smirk, replying.

“Well, I have to keep you humble.” 

Captain Steve Rogers was the one who trained her and her younger sister, Yelena, ever since they were little. Years later, they have both mastered their sword and martial arts skills, becoming one of the best in the kingdom.

Glancing around, Steve gives a stern look to the surrounding knights who rush to resume their training. When he turns back to Natasha, he nods in the distance.

“Looks like you have some guests, your Highness.”

Natasha brushes her hair out of her face, turning to look at the directed area.

At the edge of the training yard, she finds you standing alongside another noble, Lady Kate Bishop. 

Kate waves excitedly at her in greeting, and the golden retriever next to her also jumps in place, matching his owner’s energy.

Visits to the castle from the two of you were not surprising. With both of your noble families having prominent positions in the kingdom, it was natural that the four of you, including Yelena, would end up forming close bonds, having known each other since you were children.

Kate is Yelena’s closest friend while you are hers.

Well, you two used to be close.

However, ever since the incident last year on the night of her birthday, you’ve kept your distance from her, only seeing or talking to her when necessary. 

Even now, Natasha can see that the only thing holding you in place is Kate’s interlocked arm in yours.

Your body is turned towards the castle, and your eyes are looking everywhere else but her.

Natasha sheaths her sword at her side and walks over to the two of you. She is knocked back slightly when the golden retriever leaps at her in greeting, his tail wagging enthusiastically.

Natasha chuckles and pets his head, “Well, hello to you too, Lucky.”

Kate’s excited energy follows, moving closer, which in turn pulls you forward also. 

“That was amazing! You have to teach me that move!”

Natasha releases the dog with a final scratch before letting him return to his owner’s side. 

“I’m sure Yelena can show it to you the next time you two practice,” she tells her.

Kate nods to herself, reminding herself to ask the younger princess about it later.

Natasha turns to you, giving you a hopeful smile.

“How have you been, Y/n?”

You give her a slight bow in acknowledgment, your eyes still averted from hers.

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking, princess.”

Natasha's smile drops slightly at your neutral response. 

So far, her interactions with you have been like this, formal and distant, unlike the usual banter and casual teasing that typically characterizes your friendship.

Before she can ask anything further, Natasha notices a slight movement in your arm as you discreetly tug Kate, trying to get her attention. 

Kate turns to look at you in question and sees your pointed stare as you tilt your head subtly towards the castle.

Her mouth opens in realization, and she turns to Natasha apologetically.

“Oh, that’s right! I’m sorry, Natasha, but we have to get going. Y/n has a meeting with the queen.”

You are practically dragging her away as she finishes talking, offering Natasha a tight smile and a small farewell bow.

Natasha’s shoulders slump in despair as she watches you rush away.

It was disheartening to see her closest friend become almost like a stranger, but she can only blame that incident which caused this rift between the two of you. 

Sighing sadly, she pulls out her sword again and heads back toward the center of the area to resume her training.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Natasha is practically sprinting to the dining hall with how fast she is walking through the hallways.

Guards and maids dodge out of her path as she rushes by, already understanding the need to hurry, judging by the time. 

As she approaches the entrance of the dining room, the guards open the doors for her to enter. Stepping into the room, she is immediately greeted by the queen’s reprimanding voice.

“You’re late, Natasha.”

Her mother, Queen Melina, sits at the head of the table while her father, King Alexei, occupies the opposite side. Yelena is positioned on the table's side facing her, subtly shaking her head in warning as her eyes gesture meaningfully toward their mother.

Natasha thinks back to how she spent the remainder of the day after her encounter with you, destroying the training dummies around the training yard in frustration.

By the time she realized how long she’d been training, the sun had already set. 

Deciding there was no point in making up an excuse, she settled with the truth.

“I lost track of the time,” she replies.

In response, Queen Melina nods at the chair closest to her, indicating for her to have a seat. 

When Natasha sits down, a member of the kitchen staff places a plate of dinner in front of her before stepping away.

In an attempt to break the tension, King Alexei claps his hands together and exclaims joyfully.

“Great, the family’s all here! Let’s eat!”

The members of the royal family start eating their meals, except for Queen Melina, who instead turns her attention to Natasha.

“I heard that you were at the courtyard today, training with the royal guards.”

“I was,” Natasha responds casually.

“What about your studies?”

“I already finished them all.”

“If you had told me earlier, I could have given you the next part of your lessons,” Melina admonishes before continuing her lecture. “You are about to be crowned soon as the next ruler of the kingdom. There’s always more that you can learn.”

A small snicker from Yelena catches Melina’s attention, causing her to direct her lecturing tone to the younger princess.

“And you should not laugh at your sister. At least she finished her studies. I heard that you didn't even show up for your lessons. Where exactly were you all day?”

Yelena shrugs nonchalantly before looking down next to her chair at the Akita dog eating from her bowl.

“Fanny wanted to go out for a run, so we spent the day out in the fields.”

At the sound of her name, the dog looks up attentively.

In response, Yelena gives her a gentle scratch on the head, before turning the dog's face toward her mother.

“You can’t say no to this face,” Yelena coos. 

Melina gives the two of them a deadpan look before shifting her gaze forward to her husband.

Alexei chokes on his food in slight panic when he realizes her attention has now turned to him.

“Our daughters have inherited your adventurous spirit,” Melina remarks accusingly.

“That’s my girls!” Alexei exclaims proudly before he catches the sharp glare from Melina. “I-I mean, girls, your studies and lessons come first. You know how important they are to your mother.”

Melina sighs defeatedly, shaking her head at his poor attempt at scolding. She returns her attention back to her eldest daughter.

“I have scheduled several meetings for you this week, Natasha. They’re with the daughters from some of the noble houses, so be sure not to miss any.”

Furrowing her eyebrows in confusion, Natasha brings her cup up for a drink as she asks for more information.

“What are the meetings for?”

“To find you a partner, of course.”

Natasha spits out her drink in surprise, coughing as she reaches for a napkin.

“Mind your manners, Natasha,” Melina chastises.

Ignoring her mother's reprimand, Natasha exclaims in outrage.

“Why am I looking for a partner?!” 

Unfazed by her tone, Melina answers her question with a serious expression, “Taking on the responsibilities of the kingdom is a lot for one person. You should have someone at your side.” 

Natasha makes a sound of disagreement and gestures at her in accusation.

“A couple of months ago, you told me that I was fully prepared to take over the throne,” she reminds her mother. “You’ve never mentioned that I needed to have someone back then!” 

“Well, that was before I realized that you have obviously made no attempt at looking for a potential partner. So I took the liberty to invite these lovely candidates to help you get started, and you will meet with them.”

Natasha huffs and crosses her arms, shaking her head in disbelief.

Seeing her reluctance, Melina continues, declaring, “If you cannot find someone by the time of your coronation, your father and I will choose one for you.” 

Natasha’s eyes widen, and her mouth hangs open in shock at her words.

This was not fair.

Throughout her life, her parents have never shown interest in her romantic relationships before. Suddenly, they decide that she is not capable of taking over the kingdom unless she has someone by her side. 

As Natasha tries to come up with a way so that she can get herself out of this situation, an idea comes to her mind.

“What if I’m already in a relationship with someone?” Natasha asks.

Three sets of eyes stare at her with varying looks of disbelief on their faces.

Yelena speaks up first, giving her a skeptical look.

“Nat, you’re popular throughout the kingdom, but the truth is, you spend more time with your sword than you do holding a lady's hand.”

Natasha subtly kicks her sister under the table in response to her comment, causing her to curse in pain. 

“Watch your language, Yelena,” Melina reprimands her before resting her clasped hands on the table and focusing on Natasha. “But she’s not wrong. I have not seen you romantically close with anyone,” she points out accusingly.

Without hesitation, Natasha smoothly lies, “We’ve been meeting in secret.”

Melina examines her critically, and she matches her mother's intense stare.

When Natasha’s gaze doesn’t waver, Melina relaxes her posture and relents. 

“Alright then, if you could tell me who you are in a relationship with, I will cancel all of the meetings.” 

The name rolls off naturally on her tongue before Natasha can even stop herself.

“Lady Y/n Dreykov. I’m in a relationship with Y/n.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

[missviviii]

i’m absolutely obsessed with grumpy x sunshine ship dynamic so i would love to see if you could write about mizu having a partner who is super energetic and excited while she’s always annoyed.

maybe at first mizu didn’t care for the reader at first but ringo insists on having reader tag along (maybe they are a healer or archer? it doesn’t matter to me!) then mizu slowly starts liking the reader the more she gets to know her? but reader is oblivious and doesn’t pick up on the hints even though it’s obvious mizu like her

sorry it’s so long 😭 i’m so in love with mizu it’s not funny i’m in the trenches right now

a/n: oooh alright!! 🫶 i love this ideaa

.

“The Sunshine to the Darkness”

warning(s): swearing

summary: poor mizu has been dropping hints here and there but you, my dear reader, are oblivious to them.

——————————————————————————

You stumbled across Mizu that very day she was fighting the Four Fangs. You were an archer, a rather good one at that. But what were your arrows to their swords? So you stayed in the distance, raining down arrows upon them when they got too close to Mizu.

Mizu could not tell who was helping her, distracting the Four Fangs long enough for her to attack them off guard. Yet she was grateful for your help, you managed to save her from quite a few blows that would’ve put her in a much worse condition.

You were doing fine staying back from the fight, that was until you saw a man (Taigen) approaching Mizu just as she killed Bloodsoaked Chiaki and badly wounded. You thought he was going to kill her the moment she fell unconscious from her injuries and blood loss, so you jumped into action. You shot at him, sending an arrow his way, in which he managed to dodge at the last minute.

Ringo appeared just then, tackling Taigen to the ground and demanding to know what happened to Mizu. You hopped off the rocks you were standing on and jumped onto the ground, running over to Mizu and checking her injuries.

“Is my master okay?! Oh no, he needs medicine and help!” Ringo said as he lifted Mizu onto his back. He told you to come and follow him and keep Mizu sitting upright on the horse while they went to a nearby abandoned temple to tend to Mizu’s injuries. You sat on a horse, Mizu behind you with her arms around your waist.

Her eyes opened weakly, finding herself now on a horse and her head lying on someone’s shoulder. You. Mizu looked down, noticing the bow on your side. So you are that archer Mizu thought. And then her tired eyes closed once again.

Mizu woke up once again, this time on a bedroll with you hovering over her with a concerned look. You gasped, realizing she’s up. “You’re awake! Oh my goodness, I thought you were dead!” You loudly exclaimed, helping her sit up. Mizu groaned, both from the pain and your loud voice.

“Gah, shut up, will you? So loud..” Mizu grumbled as Ringo walked over to her and handed her a bowl of medicine to drink. You sheepishly smiled, whispering a soft ‘sorry’ before you stood up and walked over to her clothes. She looked at you. That smile, that little smile. Why did it make her stomach do jumps and flips?

“Here, I sewed up your clothes again. They were ripped and in bad condition so I thought I’d fix them for you.” You placed her clothes, neatly folded, beside her. Mizu looked at you, but didn’t say a word. You hummed, waving Ringo goodbye before you walked outside to see what was Taigen doing.

Ringo looked at Mizu, who was drinking her medicine with a disgusted look on her face. “Master, I think they should stick around with us! They would make a great addition to the team, and they can use the bow and arrow!” Ringo was excited, if you joined the team, you could travel with them and help Mizu! Mizu looked at him, a bit annoyed he’d suggest to drag another person when she could barely stand him.

But somehow, Ringo managed to convince Mizu. Eventually, she reluctantly agreed, allowing you to tag along. Ringo was ecstatic since he liked having you around. Mizu acted like she was annoyed and tried not to pay attention to your shenanigans, but the thing is, she did pay attention. To your smiles, to the jokes you told, to the way you would squeal when you find some cute little charm, and how you were so eager to move in the morning when everyone was still drowsy.

“Hey,” Mizu says while you were looking at jewelry a local stall owner had on display when you and the group were passing by a village. She held out a hairpin, a beautiful one with blue flowers and small diamonds on it. You looked up at her, a bit confused by the gesture. Or why she’s looking away with her hand hiding her flushed cheeks. “I got it for you. You were staring at it very intently..”

You squealed, taking the hairpin and holding it up with a big smile. “Mizu! You didn’t have to! Oh my lord, it’s so pretty!” You smiled, wrapping your arms around her tightly. Mizu’s eyes widened, caught off guard by the sudden hug. Sure you hugged her plenty of times, but this one just hit different. She put on hand on your back as she muttered ‘you’re welcome’. “You’re such a good friend!” Oh, you oblivious little— That hit her a little bit.

Taigen walked over just then, busy eating something until he noticed you hugging Mizu. You, the sunshine of the group and probably the loudest beside him, were allowed to hug Mizu? The closed off, cold-hearted Mizu? Oh there was something fishy.

“The fuck is happening over here? You two getting ready to go out and party or what?” Taigen walked over to the two of you with a suspicious look. You looked at Taigen, clearly beaming as you showed him the hairpin Mizu bought you. Taigen looks back at Mizu, who was pretending to be looking at something else. He connected the puzzle pieces together and— OH. Mizu liked you. He almost smirks, looking at Mizu who was clearly side-eying him with poison in her eyes.

You were so oblivious, so dense. Mizu would never let anyone touch her besides you, much less buy a gift with actual sincerity behind it for someone.

Poor Mizu has been attempting to drop hints for you, yet you never catch on. She lets you sleep on her bedroll, carries you on her back when you complain you’re tired, buys you things you like—hell she even lets you touch her and cling onto her. And you unfortunately did not catch on. How is someone so smart like you yet so oblivious?

“Are you this dense?” Mizu asks out of the blue one day while the two of you were sparring. You looked at her weirdly, confused by what she meant. How did that have anything to do with what you two were doing now?

“Is this your way of calling me dumb or..?” You’re re puzzled, confused by what she means by dense. She’s the one that’s dense, right? You keep trying to show that you like her by doing things like sewing her clothes, buying her charms to carry around on her sword, and taking care of her when she’s sick yet she doesn’t get the hint. You snapped back to reality, jumping off the ground as Mizu aims the wooden blade towards your legs.

Mizu groans, both from annoyance of not being able to hit you and you also being far too oblivious. “No, I’m saying your ass is oblivious-“ she says as she blocks your wooden sword from swinging at her face. You took a step back. Oblivious? About what?

“I dunno. Is there something you need to tell me?” You asked, to which she replied with a soft huff.

“God you’re dumb. You idiot, I like you!” Mizu yells as she stabs her wooden sword into the grass below her feet. She runs her hand over her face, flabbergasted at how oblivious you were. These past few weeks, she’s been passing numerous hints, giving you special privileges, even doing things with you that are a tad bit too friendly to be considered ‘just friends’. And you don’t fucking notice!

It took you a few moments to process that. That it hits you. Her being extremely nice to you were actually hints and little clues! “OH- I thought you were being a good fri—“

Before you could even finish that line, Mizu tackled you onto the ground and slammed her lips against yours. Your hands immediately went to her waist, while her hands ran all over your body. The kiss was rough, almost like she was starving.

Finally she pulled away, out of breath and her face red. “Don’t even think about saying that line ever again. I’ve heard enough of it.”

[vampire-wizard-solidarity]

@your-local-ruebit-hole-detective ok i’m sorry but. i will answer your question.

age of calamity advertises itself as a prequel but in reality it’s a fix-it au with slight differences and writing that’s pretty bad but i have grown to appreciate it for how insane it goes sometimes.

the actual plot is that as a child zelda used to have a little egg-like guardian robot that she was forced to leave behind as she grew up due to her father’s pressure etc, and when the calamity happened this little robot saw it and traveled back in time with the goal to prevent this and protect zelda, creating a branching off timeline. there’s also an extra villain who is this prophet (???? this games writing isn’t good enough for me to tell you what his deal is exactly) who worships ganon and for most of the game works with the yiga to bring him back, except he’s more insane than them and works directly with malice and also sucks at his job because when he finally gets to ganon he unceremoniously dies and everybody’s like “yeah we have no idea what this guys deal was”.

the one significant change that doesnt have to do anything with time travel shenanigans is the fact that link doesn’t find the master sword as a child, but instead gets appointed zelda’s bodyguard for his genuine skill and then finds the master sword during one of the in game missions. despite this, revali still hates him, and often times when justifying this revali cites reasons that are literal complete opposites of how his grudge was characterised in botw, cementing revali’s characterisation as just a cunt for no reason. it’s great.

the significant time travel related change is that when all the champions go into their divine beasts and fight the blights a portal opens and the new champions (teba, sidon, riju, yunobo) get teleported in and help defeat the blights. zelda also doesn’t get her power by protecting link from a bunch of guardians, the scene still hits the same beats of link fighting things off so zelda can run away except in this game how it happens is that the insane prophet shows up and literally summons all the blights against link which makes the scene ten times more insane.

throughout the game the yiga show up regularly, often times with master kohga himself showing up and being the overall goofy guy he is, except he also has a hunk of a body guard who’s name i genuinely can’t recall. multiple times in the game kohga gets defeated and said hunk of a body guard throws him over his shoulder says “it’s not over yet” and walks off carrying kohga like a sac of potatoes.

in the original game, when shit starts hitting the fan the yiga stop showing up as enemies and at some point in the story kohga shows up without said hunk of a body guard, says “the prophet is insane and the calamity actually isn’t a good thing as we’ve discovered”, highly implies that the reason for his change of heart is because said prophet killed his hunk of a body guard (who literally. doesn’t show up again for the rest of the game mind you. he legit died), and is like “yeah the yiga will help you. after this whole thing is over we’ll go back to being bitches to you but rn let’s just kill this ganon guy and then walk our separate ways”. the fact that the calamity being a bad thing throws the yiga’s whole ideology and purpose into question is never addressed.

the dlc makes the death scene explicit, also making it a parallel to zelink by, again, making the bodyguard fight all the fucking blights so that kohga can escape. the scene literally opens with the body guard limping as they try to escape. it’s so much a parallel to zelink it’s insane. im afraid do not know what the hell they were cooking.

some other choice moments from this game that go insanely hard for no reason:

1. the first portion of the game is dedicated to zelda recruiting all the champions, and when it comes to recruiting revali he for some reason assumes it’s an attack, and sends all the rito soldiers to fight the intruders off. the rito do not question fighting some random hylians one of whom is literally zelda. the mission ends with a boss fight of link vs revali, which only ends without them killing each other because zelda runs in and goes “stop???? the fuck ????”

2. the entire game has cute bonding moments with the botw champions meeting their idols and getting to spend time with them. that is, except for sidon, who spends the game saving his older sister in a parallel universe which he has to leave by the end of the game, meaning every scene involving him has him on the brink of eleven hundred simultaneous mental breakdowns. the dlc adds a scene where the little sidon who is native to said parallel universe gets to interact with botw sidon, and botw sidon tells him that he’s going to grow up big and strong and will protect his sister, and the entire time he tries really hard to not acknowledge the fact that they are the same person, and that mipha is his sister too, presumably because nobody wanted to animate sidon ugly crying. in that scene you can literally see his soul die in his eyes it’s great

3. the dlc features tulin, god knows why. i don’t know how he got there or what he’s doing. he’s just there.

4. you can make noble pursuits in the game and drink them before missions for a buff. pre-gaming defeating the calamity is a thing, i cannot stress how much it is a thing in this game.

5. there are two separate animated cutscenes where link eats rocks on screen. only one of them involves the gorons, the other is a scene where link is being discussed and as the characters talk about how great he is in battle the camera pans to him eating rocks, seemingly on a dare from the other soldiers, who all surround him and are immensely excited by the fact that he is actually eating rocks.

6. the dlc features a scene where zelda gets to cook. link is horrified the entire time. she does not belong in the kitchen. she belongs anywhere outside the kitchen. the dlc also gives her the master cycle as a weapon. she commits vehicular manslaughter

7. the king gets a redemption arc, where he apologises to zelda only after she unlocks her power. the reason he realized he was wrong was because a sheikah relic that he confiscated from zelda turned out to be an ancient shield and it saved his life from a guardian blast. his apology is literal dog shit and right after it the game forces you to play as him for a mission. it almost made me rage quit.

8. thunder blight has an attack where it just swings its hair at you

9. when you finally fight calamity ganon he doesn’t have the form of the spider ganon from botw or even the boar, he is instead a buff guy made out of malice. literally just the shape of a buff non descript guy made out of malice. his boss fight is endless and the entire time you’re just beating the shit out of a non descript buff guy shape with a stick.

10. there’s a cute little side mission called something like “girls beauty contest” (in reality they all beat the shit out of each other for the title), where you’re only allowed to select female characters. that is, female characters AND gorons. think of that what you will

[deliciousangelfestival]

Lovers Say Goodbye | 3 - B.Barnes

Character: soft!dark Bucky x ex-girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky finds solace and love in an unexpected place, only to have his world shattered by a shocking revelation about the person he cared about.

Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3, Chap 4, Chap 5 , -

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to read all your comments. Thank you once again.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

A few Months Later

"I just realized," Bucky murmured, his voice a low rumble transmitted through the earpiece.

"What is it?" Steve responded, concern lacing his words.

Bucky kept his eye focused on the target through the rifle scope. "She never spoke much about her family when we were together," he explained, his voice devoid of emotion. "Only brief mentions."

It was true. You'd never delved deep into your family life, only mentioning their retirement and love for world travel aboard cruise ships. Back then, Bucky had harbored anxieties about being accepted by your parents, worried they would disapprove of their relationship.

However, the truth's unveiling didn't erase the raw pain in his eyes. Instead, it sparked a chilling realization: you were equals. Both of you are masters of the deceptive game.

"Well, something must have smitten you good," Steve chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood.

Bucky's response was devoid of humor. "Sex. Good sex."

"Hey!" Steve exclaimed through the earpiece. "No need to get graphic with me."

A phantom sensation washed over Bucky, a memory of your touch. He recalled the caress of your fingers on his skin, the warmth of your breath against his neck, the intimacy of your body pressed against his. His mind fixated on a specific detail - the strength evident in your legs wrapped around his hips.

Bucky wondered, was the pleasure mutual? Did the experience hold the same significance for you, or was it just another masterful performance?

"Such a shame," he muttered, the bittersweet memory turning to ash in his mouth. "Good memories turned to ashes."

His words were cut short by the sharp crack of the rifle firing. Steve, observing the scene through a remote monitor, cheered. "Bullseye!" he exclaimed, the celebratory tone at odds with the gravity of the situation.

Taking lives was Bucky's expertise. His agency issued the order, and he executed it with unwavering precision, regardless of the complexity of the mission. Most targets were simply names and faces, strangers with no personal connection.

This time, however, the target was significant. He had become a pawn in Bucky's desperate game, a calculated move orchestrated solely to attract your attention. He had murdered an informant.

This time, the target was a high-ranking CIA informant, sacrificed solely to get your attention.

Steve warned, "This is a double-edged sword, Buck. They'll know your hand is in this, and they'll know it's personal."

Bucky's voice was cold and resolute. "That's the point. They'll know this is my work. They'll know it's personal."

He held firm to his belief that his reckless act, taking out the CIA informant, would draw you back. He envisioned them sending you to him, a twisted reunion of sorts.

However, reality unfolded differently. His agency commended him on a job well done, their client's debt to the agency now settled. This outcome was the polar opposite of his intended result.

Meanwhile, you remained oblivious to the chaos he'd unleashed across the miles.

You were deep within the isolated European country, laser-focused on rescuing the hostages. The news of the assassinated informant and the potential storm brewing back home hadn't reached you yet.

The adrenaline coursed through your veins, a familiar yet intoxicating sensation. Your mind buzzed with activity, fueled by the thrill of the unknown and the ever-present danger. This was the lifeblood you craved, the constant stimulation that had been absent during the past two years.

Flashback Start

Two years spent undercover in a war-torn country, posing as a florist. A stark contrast to the thrilling, high-octane missions you had always thrived on. But it had been necessary. The previous agents sent to infiltrate Bucky's life had all returned in body bags. You were the agency's last resort, their ace in the hole.

They had given you a mere 24 hours to transform yourself from seasoned operative to unassuming florist. The moment you saw Bucky step into your shop, everything you'd built, every practiced smile and fabricated story, teetered on the edge of collapse.

Your hand hovered near the concealed gun nestled beneath the counter, yet it remained unmoving. Something was different. The usual cacophony of the city seemed muted, replaced by an intense silence that amplified the sound of your own ragged breaths and the frantic thump of your heart. Bucky's eyes locked with yours, his gaze a stormy sea of conflicting emotions.

For a moment, the world held its breath. Time seemed to slow, stretching into an eternity where only the two of you existed. The air crackled with unspoken words and unresolved feelings, a potent mix of danger and something else, something you couldn't quite define.

Your mind whirred as Bucky approached the counter, requesting flowers for a funeral. You meticulously combed through your inventory, carefully selecting blooms that held the weight of grief and remembrance. The familiar scent of lilies and carnations filled the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within you.

As Bucky wordlessly left the shop, the heavy bouquet cradled in his arms, a wave of conflicting emotions washed over you. You watched his broad, fearless shoulders slump as he headed towards the funeral, a lone figure burdened by sorrow. It was no ordinary funeral; you knew it was for his former handler, the man whose death had orchestrated everything – the death of Bucky's handler, Operation Pandora, and ultimately, your own undercover operation.

Initially, the CIA's instructions were simple: observe Bucky. They were aware of his safe houses near your flower shop, anticipating his return and potential request for employment. However, the agency and you, along with them, had never expected this turn of events.

Your new mission: to distract Bucky, to prevent him from digging into the death of his former handler. While you played your part, Director Brandon and a team of agents worked tirelessly to eliminate any trace of Operation Pandora. It was a meticulous process, ensuring absolute secrecy, hence the two-year duration.

When Brandon called and said, "It's finished," you left. Leaving behind the lingering whispers of a life that had become a carefully constructed facade, you didn't hesitate.

You lied when he asked if you regretted anything. Those two years with Bucky were a break, a rest from the usual danger. But it wasn't real because you were lying while he genuinely cared.

Flashback Ended

You wanted to forget everything, so you took a mission where you couldn't contact anyone. Your only job was to save hostages, which took time, planning, and working together. It was hard, and you got hurt, but finally, your team succeeded in saving all the hostages.

Months later, when you finally boarded the private jet for your return, you were surprised to find Director Brandon onboard. Usually, he remained at headquarters, awaiting reports of successful missions. His presence sent a tremor of apprehension through you.

Brandon gestured towards the seat across from him. "Sit down."

You complied, fastening your seatbelt as you settled in. "Why'd you come all the way here?" you inquired, a cold compress pressed against your right eye, the throbbing evidence of a recent punch.

The plane taxied down the runway and lifted into the air before Brandon spoke, handing you a file. "You need to see this."

Your eyebrows shot up as you set down the ice pack. "Another mission?"

Brandon shook his head. "No. It's about the aftermath of... what we did."

Curiosity piqued, you flipped open the file. Your breath hitched as a photograph greeted you: Bucky, his face obscured by a mask, gun clutched in one hand, a hostage held captive in the other. You'd never witnessed such raw fury in him before, but a deep-seated certainty gnawed at you - you were the spark that ignited this inferno.

With a defeated sigh, you closed the file. "Can't you handle this?"

Brandon's voice held a hint of regret. "If I could, I wouldn't have come to get you."

Another sigh, heavier this time, escaped your lips. "He wants to talk to me."

Brandon nodded silently. You leaned back in your chair, closing your eyes. "Just tell me when we land."

Each passing moment was fraught with tension, the image of Bucky burning into your mind. The weight of your choice, the lie you'd woven, pressed down on you like a physical burden. As the plane soared through the clouds, you braced yourself for the inevitable confrontation, the consequence of a past drenched in deception.

*************

The car sped through the bustling city streets, a tense silence hanging heavy in the air between you and Brandon. The file containing Bucky's photo as a ruthless hostage-taker lay discarded on your lap, the image seared into your memory.

"We have to prepare for the worst," Brandon said, his voice grim. "We don't know what that bastard will do to you."

You remained quiet, your gaze fixed on the cityscape blurring past the window. A kaleidoscope of emotions swirled within you: regret, guilt, and a flicker of fear.

Brandon continued, "You can't do this alone, Y/N."

"I know," you finally responded, your voice barely audible.

Brandon offered a heavy sigh. "Good. I've gathered some agents who..."

His sentence was abruptly cut short by a deafening explosion that rocked the car. The rear driver-side tire gave way, sending the vehicle swerving wildly across the street.

"What the hell?!" Brandon exclaimed, his voice laced with shock.

Adrenaline surged through your veins, the years of undercover training kicking in. "It's him," you stated, your voice steady despite the chaos unfolding around you.

"Damn it! Where is he? We wiped our tracks clean," Brandon cursed, his grip tightening on the steering wheel as he fought to regain control of the car.

You craned your neck to look through the rear window, spotting a lone figure standing on the overpass ahead of them. Bucky. He held a sniper rifle aimed directly at your car, his masked face unreadable.

"There," you said, pointing towards him.

Panic flickered in Brandon's eyes before he slammed on the gas pedal, shouting to the driver, "Faster!"

The chase was on, a desperate attempt to outmaneuver a vengeful Bucky and reach the safety of the agency headquarters. The once quiet car ride had morphed into a heart-pounding race against time, the line between hunter and hunted blurring with each passing moment.

The car lurched and swayed, tires screeching in protest as Brandon fought to regain control. Explosions echoed behind them, a deadly symphony composed of shattered glass and mangled metal. Each boom sent tremors through the car, a chilling reminder of Bucky's deadly precision.

You watched, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs, as one by one, the cars accompanying them were systematically eliminated. Bucky, a relentless specter on the overpass above, picked them off with chilling ease. Each shot rang out like a death knell, extinguishing the hopes of their backup and leaving you and Brandon increasingly isolated.

"Damn him!" Brandon roared, frustration and fear coloring his voice. "He's like a goddamn ghost!"

With a final, bone-jarring explosion, the last remaining car sputtered and screeched to a halt, flames licking at its mangled frame. You and Brandon exchanged a grim look, the weight of their predicament settling like a leaden weight in your gut.

Just as despair threatened to consume you, a figure materialized on the edge of the overpass, silhouetted against the afternoon sun.

Bucky, his mask a stark contrast to the golden light, dropped down onto the hood of the flaming car with an agility that defied physics. He landed in a crouch, the glint of his rifle barrel reflecting the dying sun as he turned his gaze towards you.

A tremor ran through you, a primal mix of shock and awe. You'd known of his skills, witnessed glimpses of his prowess during your time together, but this... this was something else entirely. He moved with a lethal grace, a predator stalking its prey, and the cold certainty in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine.

"Shit," you muttered, the single word encompassing the maelstrom of emotions churning within you. With a chilling certainty, you knew this was no longer just a mission gone wrong. This was personal.

You fumbled for your gun, the familiar weight a cold comfort in your trembling hand. But your movements were sluggish, weighed down by the shock and the adrenaline wearing off. Before you could even raise the weapon, a click echoed in the air, the sound of a safety being disengaged. It was too late.

Bucky lowered his mask, revealing a face etched with a mixture of pain and fury. His eyes, once full of warmth and affection, now held the hollow glint of a man consumed by vengeance.

"Welcome back, Alex," he said, his voice a low growl. "Or should I say, Y/N?"

The familiar name, once a term of endearment, now sounded foreign, laced with a bitter edge. You remained silent, the weight of his words and the betrayal they carried settling heavily in your chest.

He waited, his gaze lingering on your face, searching for something, perhaps a flicker of recognition, a spark of remorse. But there was only a void, a reflection of the shattered trust that lay between you.

"I've been waiting for a long time," he finally spoke, his voice devoid of its usual gruffness, replaced by a chilling emptiness.

You found your voice then, a mere whisper escaping your lips. "Why are you doing this?"

Bucky remained silent for a moment, the only sound the crackling of the burning car nearby. He took a slow step forward, his eyes never leaving yours.

He reached out, his calloused fingers tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, a conflicting mix of familiarity and fear.

"Don't you know?" he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I'm doing this to get your attention."

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Author Note:

My dear readers and followers,

Could you please share your opinions about this series with me?

If you enjoyed it, I'd love to hear why it appealed to you.

If not, I would greatly appreciate your feedback and advice on improving the series.

Thank you!

[donquixotehomura]

Roronoa Zoro x Reader, Hawkeye's Daughter?!

Master List

A/N so I got another one and it isn't Doffy thus time, unbelievable! 😂 Anyways hope you enjoy this has a (technically) part one but it's not well written I just thought I'd post this one, once I'm done with it I'll post it

As Zoro and Y/N stepped onto the deck of the Thousand Sunny, hand in hand, the Straw Hat crew’s reactions ranged from excitement to utter shock. Wide eyes and dropped jaws greeted the unexpected revelation — Zoro not only had a girlfriend but she was the daughter of the formidable Mihawk.

Cheers erupted from the crew as they gathered around, eager to meet the woman who had captured Zoro’s heart. Nami and Robin exchanged knowing glances, while Chopper couldn’t contain his excitement. Usopp was already envisioning epic lies/stories to tell. Luffy laughed stretching his arms to catapult himself in front of her, grabbing her by the arms “this is interesting, welcome to the crew Y/N” she smiled at him “thank you Captain it’s an honor” “Luffy is fine” “got it Luffy”.

However, Sanji, always ready to express his emotions, couldn’t hide the jealousy that loomed over him. “Marimo, you’ve been holding out on us!” he exclaimed, his tone a mix of disbelief and frustration.

“How are you dating?! And you’re dating Mihawk’s daughter?!” Sanji’s voice escalated with each word, a blend of shock and irritation.

Zoro, seemingly unfazed, smirked. “Didn’t realise I had to report to you Ero-Cook.”

Sanji’s eyes darted between Zoro and Y/N, a tumult of emotions crossing his face. “Is this some kind of joke? Are you playing around, Marimo?” he demanded.

Before Zoro could respond, Sanji turned to Y/N with a skeptical look. “Are you sure you want to be with this idiot? I mean, seriously?”

Y/N, maintaining her composure, met Sanji’s gaze and replied calmly, “I’m absolutely sure. I love him.”

Sanji’s world seemed to crumble as he grumbled in frustration. “How does the moss head get a hot, strong girlfriend before me?” he muttered, visibly pained by the unexpected turn of events.

Brook approached her laughing “that’s great Yohohoho, can I see your panties?” he asked her and she just looked at him and blinked “ that’s not possible, cause I’m not wearing any” she said nonchalantly making Brook crumble to the ground. Franky who had over heard fell to the floor “suuppperrr” and Sanji had another nosebleed crisis.

The crew, ignoring Brook and Sanji’s turmoil, and what Y/N just said, continued to welcome Y/N with open arms, excitedly discussing her skills with swords and her connection to Mihawk. Amidst the chaos, Zoro stood watching the events unfold, he was glad it all went well, he joined the group wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, causing Sanji to have a worse crisis as she leaned into him.

A/N I have no idea what I'm doing send help please

[sophswritingthings]

YOUR MIZU WRITING IS EVERYTHING the apothecary!wife fic where they're approaching the brothel and mizu's reaction to the man trying to get her wife hired as a s worker... we need more jealous/possessive mizu content in my mind it could go any way whether the reader is mizu's wife, significant other, or someone she has feelings for (though if it's just a crush i think it'd lean more towards jealousy than possessiveness) if you feel like writing something for that kind of idea i'd love to see it!

pairing: mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): swearing

a/n: oughhhh I love writing jealous characters!! esp when its like the "masc" one that's jealous!!! idk it just hits something with me <3

summary: mizu's definitely crushing on you. hard. she will deny the fact fifteen times over if you even think of calling her out on it; but its evident. so evident that now she's getting jealous.

word count: 733 words / 3,897 characters

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

you were walking. simply walking, your kimono dragging through the snow as you gave men and women alike smiles as you walked by.

she watched you closely, as if a hawk stalking her prey. every way your hand flicked, every time that smile would rise and fall on your lips, and those rosy pink cheeks nipped by the cold wind.

she hated it. she fucking hated it.

how beautiful you were, and goddamn it how nice you were to her. she had the tendency to be cold with everyone, even people she sort of liked, and yet you pushed right through it--you would smile at her every time you caught her looking at you.

what was your fucking problem? why were you just so... nice?

instead, she opted to keep her distance while she was figuring that out.

she was walking alongside ringo, her "apprentice" that she'd gained along the way. she didn't ask for him nor actually want him; but he was rather helpful when it came to certain things--so she didn't bother sending him away. she'd tried that and it didn't work.

"master?" ringo questioned, glancing at mizu.

mizu took the glance at ringo, raising an eyebrow and meeting his eyes. she said nothing, waiting for his question.

"where has, um, (y/n) gone?"

she stopped in her tracks at that, looking ahead. and he was right. you'd disappeared off to who knows where.

she sighs, "only god knows where she's gone," she grumbled. "wait here. I'll find her."

he nods. she walked along the street ways, looking in every alleyway, every shop. deep down she was nervous, nervous that someone had kidnapped you, taken you away where she wouldn't be able to find you.

her heart was racing as she broke into something of a sprint, but she stopped in her tracks. she spotted a red kimono splotched with snow and pretty depictions of flowers and cranes.

yeah, that was you.

she walked toward you. you were standing on the inside of a dimly lit shop, fucking hell, what had you gotten yourself into that she needed to get you out of?

she unsheathed her sword, stepping into the shop. you were talking to some man, of all people. who in hell was he, and what did he want with you?

she pressed him against the counter, sword pressed to his neck.

"what the fuck are you doing with her?" she hisses. she looked him up and down. the clothes he were wearing were a man of a brothel.. "ah. I see. so, what, you see a beautiful woman and you assume she wants anything to do with you?"

"mizu--relax," you grab her arm, making her release her grip on the man. you pull her back. "he was only talking to me, maybe its time I settle down. and here is nice, I--"

an arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into her side as she spoke to you.

"you are just fine with myself and ringo," she narrowed her eyes. "and you are not the kind of woman to just.. sleep with a man. a random, man."

you gaze at her, surprised by her closeness. she had never been so close to you..

"I-i suppose I am not," you whisper, glancing at the man. "t-thank you, sir.. I'll be on my way, I believe."

the two of you step outside the building.

"I was fucking worried about you, you know," she hisses, releasing her grip from your waist.

"more like jealous," you snicker. though your blush is still evident. "you were jealous I was talking to him."

"what? no," she spat. "you can talk to whoever the fuck you want, you act like I care."

you wince at the harshness to her words, "I-im only... never mind."

she saw how much her harsh tone hurt you. she sighs. you weren't wrong; even the thought of you being with another person made her blood boil.

she wanted you. she wanted you all to herself.

"maybe a little jealous," she had decided to humor you. she couldn't have you hating her, or scared of her. that was a big no-no.

"I thought so," you gently jabbed her side. you recoiled after you did so; knowing that it would very likely piss her off.

she gave a gentle laugh, "yeah, yeah, whatever. come on, can we get on with our walk, now?"

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

a/n: im sorry its short, and also a little more "protective" mizu than jealous.. this is the first thing Im writing when I wake up, so its probably not the best! my apologizes for that :(

[danikamariewrites]

Peace

Eris x reader

Summary: A look into a normal day in the new Vanserra household

Warnings: none

A/n: HAPPY DAY 1 OF ERIS WEEK!!!! I’m so excited to share this fic with you guys. And thank you to @erisweek2023 for making this happen, you guys are awesome🧡

Once the last of Eris’ advisors left the throne room he relaxed into the chair. He needed a break. He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and heard the door open. If the advisors were already back he was going to kill someone.

He opened his eyes and saw you walking toward him. Eris perked up smiling at the sight of you and the babe in your arms.

Your youngest daughter, Bruna, was always so content and smiley, it was just infectious. At only seven months old Bruna knew how to make her papa happy.

“My sweet girls.” Eris holds his arms open ready to embrace you both. He kisses you and looks at the babbling babe as you hand her to him. Eris bounces Bruna in his arms earning giggles from her, giving him a toothless grin.

You smile at them. They were already thick as thieves like he was with your oldest, Orla. You send a wave of love down the bond and Eris looks up at you. His face glowing with happiness.

“Where is my other sweet girl?” As if her ears were burning, your oldest, Orla, pushed into the throne room. Dressed in her training gear with her sword strapped to her back she stops in front of you and Eris. Sketching a bow to you both she breaks into a wide grin laying eyes on her sister. “Hello little sap.”

When you were pregnant Orla called Bruna a little sapling. When she was new to the world and learning her family's voices Bruna always smiled at her nickname. Orla takes her sister from her fathers arms and the girls giggle. Like they knew a secret you and Eris weren’t in on.

Eris wraps an arm around your shoulder as you look at your children. They love each other so much already it makes you both so happy. You know this puts Eris at ease as well. He’s a good father unlike Beron. Eris encouraged love, not competition and hatred, between his two girls.

Orla hands the little sapling to you and turns to her father. “I’m ready when you are papa.” Eris walks back to his throne and pulls his sword from behind the chair. “Let’s go then.” They walk away in sync as Eris straps his sword to his hip.

Orla is 17 now and Eris thought he should attend her combat training. Take the time to teach his daughter everything he knows, not just in politics but in battle. It frightens you to think your girls might one day face a war like you and Eris have seen. You pray to the Mother your children never have to fight.

Cradling Bruna, she pulls at the ends of your hair with her chubby fists. You smile at your babe and coo at her, “Should we go watch Orla and papa, huh?”

You go to stand on the balcony overlooking the courtyard where Eris and Orla train. At the sight of the pair walking out Bruna lets out a high pitched babble. Happy to have her sister and papa within eyesight again.

~~

Eris draws his sword from its sheath, checking its glint in the afternoon sunlight. Orla stretches out her arms in a warm up the weapons master has walked her through everyday.

He smiled at his daughter. She was becoming a formidable warrior and he wanted to be there with her on this journey.

“So,” Eris started, taking up a fighting stance, “shall we begin?” Orla grinned and took up a mirroring stance as she and her father began circling each other.

Eris noted her foot work was good, but there’s room for improvement.

Orla lunged, striking first. Their swords clashing and sliding off each other. “Good. You saw an opening and took it.” Eris swung and Orla dropped, rolling behind him and kicking the backs of his knees.

He stood, facing Orla, backing up quickly and started circling his first born again. “Do you know why I wanted you to start training?” Orla shook her head still keeping her eyes on her father, watching his every move.

“You are the oldest. Meaning you are a protector. You are your sister's protector.” Orla nodded in agreement. “Do you remember the stories about your grandfather and uncles?” “Yes papa.” The pair continue to circle.

“Then you know why it’s important for you to do this.” Eris moves to strike but Orla blocks quickly. They have a good volley going until Orla spins out, back to the edge of the makeshift ring and paces back and forth.

“Grandfather seemed like a monster.” A breathy laugh escaped Eris as he backed away. If Orla was anything, it was honest. “He’s the reason I’m doing things…differently. You and Bruna are everything to me. I want to be sure you’re both safe and loved.”

They continued their conversations and sparring for hours. You eventually went in to feed Bruna and put her down for a nap. When the pair came back to the family living quarters Eris had his arm around Orla, laughing about something that happened during training.

“Alright you, go clean up. You still have tutoring later.” Orla groaned and headed to her chambers. Once her door shut Eris plopped himself on the couch next to you.

You immediately rest your head on his shoulder, bringing your fingers to trace patterns across his clothed chest.

“Don’t you still have work to do, High Lord?” You ask teasingly. Eris chuckles and rested his head on yours. “Oh my High Lady, I can do whatever I like. And what I'd like to do is spend time with my family.”

Eris leaned back and closed his eyes. You felt him relax, his breathing soft and small smile on his face. You silently reached out to his side of the bond. Eris felt peaceful. You hadn’t felt him this peaceful in years.

You could feel his happiness. The pride he felt for his daughters and you. Leaning up on your knees you peck his cheek and rub your nose against his. “I love you, Er.” Eris pulled you into a tight embrace, taking in your calming scent. “I love you more, y/n. Thank you for everything you’ve given me.” You hug him back tighter until you hear Bruna stirring in her bassinet. You move to go comfort your daughter before she starts crying but Eris puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll get her, fox. You relax.”

As Eris picks up the babe he smiles and coos at her, gently rocking her against his chest. You loved moments like these with your family. They were so rare at the beginning for just you and Eris. Everything happened so fast when Beron passed, then Orla came along a few years later and finally things settled.

You and Eris had found peace together. And if you had to go through all of the hard times to get to right now again, you would.

[sky-kiss]

Eternal

“Will it always be blood between us?” Raphael asks, tipping his head to the side. Blood tracks through an amalgamation of dirt and sweat. For once, Tav sees none of his typical bravado. It’s not the devil, ambitious, ageless, driven, standing before her. He’s only a man, exhausted. 

Tav scrubs at her face, body aching. 

He wants the Crown.

She refuses to give it up. 

And so it must be war. Tav stands to her full height, willing down the pain. It pales compared to the duller hurts: an ache in her chest she cannot adequately quantify and bone-deep weariness. She wants to lay down her sword. Tav wants to rest. 

“It has to be,” she says, sighing. The hero manages to smile. 

He does not return it. He shakes his hand, residual motes of hellfire sputtering and dying in the otherwise stagnant air. “How long have we danced this dance?” 

Oh, gods, she’s lost track. Time is strange in the Astral Plane. It stretches on and on. Her voice is soft. “Centuries, maybe.” 

“Too long.” 

It’ll go on far longer—an unstoppable force, an immovable object…gods above, how miserable. 

Tav scrubs a hand through her hair, moves towards a rocky outcropping, and sits. She pats the spot beside her. To his credit, Raphael chuckles, dipping into a low half-bow before joining her. The devil hums before reaching out to grasp her chin. His expression twists with something inexplicable. Not longing, not in the traditional sense, but some cousin. In his eyes, she sees all the lost potential, shattered hopes, and dreams put on pause because of her supposed righteousness. 

He sighs, thumb swiping over her lower lip. “And to think, we might have avoided all this. If not for your pride.” 

Tav laughs, leaning against his shoulder. “Mmm. I suppose I should have trusted a devil’s word? You’d have been peaceable, passive. You’d have been content with just the Hells.” She glances up at him. “We both know that’s a lie. So…here we are.” He grunts in affirmation. Tav takes his right hand, bringing it to her lips. There’s a scar running across his right knuckles- her gift to him. It sends a sickly thrill of possession through her. He wears her mark (and gods only know, she wears his). Tav speaks against his skin. “Who knows? Maybe one day you’ll finally kill me.” 

Raphael laughs, low, hollow. “Perhaps. And you’ll have robbed my triumph of its sweetness, you spiteful creature.” 

There’s nothing left to say. Tav kisses him, tastes promise and poison, tastes what might have been. It is sickly sweet, tearing at her inside. Raphael strokes her cheek. Then, he stands. 

“Come, hero. Again. Kill or be killed. Cede the Crown to its proper master.” 

And so, they begin again. 

[jymwahuwu]

this post aaaa!! i just think about reader who tries to run away from jing yuan- but gets caught by blade. blade is given the choice to watch jing yuan spank you and play with your body for returning you unharmed. i feel like he might like to watch that ;////;

Wren thanks for giving me ideas!! I've been thinking about this since you sent it to me. How do you keep being so creative😣😫❤️‍🔥💕 And, finally, I can write about being spanked by Jing Yuan...

CW: afab reader, yandere, non-con, kidnapping, failed escape, spanking without consent, edging, humiliation

Blade glanced at you once, far away. At that time, you stood beside Jing Yuan, lowered your head, and clasped your fingers tightly with him. He really couldn't see your expression clearly, but according to the rumors, General Jing Yuan spoiled his wife, so he guessed that you might be bowing your head shyly, with loving words on your lips and a slight smile.

His reason for remembering you is - you are standing in front of him now, gasping for breath, with tears on your eyelashes, your legs trembling like autumn leaves after running and evading capture (as if you have been pampered for hundreds of years). You put your hands on his arms, but without using any force, beg him to send you to another planet. A submissive gesture. Pleading, like it's your forte. Blade thought.

"Why should I help you?" He sneered.

"Jing- Jing Yuan- He's not what you think- I want to leave. He won't allow it." Hearing the indifferent response from the member of Stellaron Hunters, your heart dropped into freezing point. "I remember you. I've seen you. I'll give you money- or anything you want- if you'll help me."

"It's ridiculous to bargain with a prey that can't even escape the hunt. But…" For some reason, Blade's heart itched at the fact that you still remembered him, but shook his head. He has more interesting things to do. Jing Yuan. How precious are you to him?

-

"Oh baby, I'm worried about you!!" Dragged into the master bedroom of the general's mansion by this member of Stellaron Hunters, the tears on your cheeks are still wet, and your other hand is desperately grabbing the door frame like a kitty grab. Jing Yuan, who was pacing back and forth, stood up immediately, and embraced you with open arms. "Are you okay? Are you hungry? Where did you go? You…"

"Payment." Blade interrupted his affectionate chatter, holding his sword, reminding. "Jing Yuan, remember your promise."

"Hmm…" The general glanced at him with his glowing golden eyes, his frown loosened, and gradually, it turned into a condescending mockery, mocking you for falling into such a situation. yet like misses the time hundreds of years ago. "Interesting. It's been a long time. You and I, who would have thought that this meeting would happen under such circumstances? Don't worry, I always value promises. Now that you have sent her back unscathed, redeem the promise."

After speaking, he turned to you again. "Strip naked."

Like being struck by lightning, your mind swoons and you can't believe what your ears are hearing. "what? What?"

"This is the reward that guy asked for." The general took your hand and led you to the sofa. He smiled. "You think I don't know you're trying to escape? Come on. Baby, strip for a show. Or, shall I help you?"

Knowing him, you can't escape fate. Slowly and reluctantly, you unbuttoned your clothes, and lifted your top…and then took off half of the fabric…the underwear trembled and folded, and put them on the sofa. Jing Yuan waited with a smile on his chin, then reached out and pulled you onto his lap. You just suddenly realize that it's not, it's…

Slap on your left buttock. The loud sound is accompanied by a warning of pain. The tears you have been holding back welled up in your eyes. Spanking! He spanked you in front of Blade?

"No!" you struggle, "This hurts!"

"Shhhhh, hold back, baby. This is just the beginning." The general's tone was still gentle, but you knew it meant irresistible. He stroked your buttocks and cheeks to ease the pain, and the stormy slaps began. His palm hits your burning skin. Loud, continuous slapping, accompanied by sobbing and moaning, echoed through the master bedroom.

Recognize that there is one person watching all this. Your cheeks are burning, kicking your legs. "Stop this…please…"

"Look at him." The hand that was originally holding your waist turned to your hair, hesitated for a while, didn't grab your hair, but pinched your chin, forcing you to look at that Stellaron Hunter. The immortal swordsman folded his arms, with an obscure smile on his face, and the corners of his mouth slightly curved like a crescent moon, obviously getting a kind of satisfaction - knowing that these Xianzhou people, especially Jing Yuan, have such a side. Rotten from the inside. Sanctimonious.

You, looking back at him in tears and slaps. This is so embarrassing. Why did Jing Yuan treat you like this? You thought that, like the previous escape, there would be no terrible consequences. While heating up your ass, Jing Yuan didn't forget to run his fingers over your slit and draw circles on your clit. Pain and pleasure emerge, jockeying for position. Realizing the orgasm is building, you poke your ass out involuntarily, but in that momentous moment, like pressing the brake button. The caresses suddenly stopped. Only leaving a new round of spanking to begin. Didn't get the expected orgasm. Your lips quiver and whine, unable to hold a decent sob, instead wailing and turning into a mess.

Not only Jing Yuan squinted his eyes with a smile, Blade took pleasure in your reaction. You are so pathetic. Lovely. Fragile. Sweet. He kind of understands why Jing Yuan is addicted to you. You deserve to be in this predicament.

Jing Yuan does another two or three rounds like this, you wriggling on his legs, not getting any orgasms, sniffling. Even more frightening, you find that Blade has unzipped his trousers and is stroking himself in front of you.

"You-you...!!" You were dumbfounded.

The general snorted. A harsh slap calls your attention back to punishment. You gasped and screamed, another stream of tears fell on the couch, promised. "I'm sorry...!! I will never run away again...!!" However, this time there was no waiting for the caress. Jing Yuan also untied the pants chain, pinched your ass with one hand, and the thick cock sank into your tight vagina until it reached the cervix.

You start to lose sense of order or logic, and just open your mouth to bear the pounding from behind. Unlike spanking, this time there is the sound of wet liquid dripping on the sofa. "Jing- Jing Yuan...!!" While calling his name, your upper body is lying on the sofa, and the walls are tightened to receive those seeds. Almost at the same time, that load is also sprayed on your face, forcing your eyes to not fully open. It's from Blade.

Totally, insulted.

[bitchysouljellyfish]

Reassurance

Monk Tav is doubting herself. Good thing Tara is there to set her straight.

Border by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

Strange how life works.

One day, you're out on a mission for your temple, quarterstaff resting comfortably in your hand as you trek through the streets of Baldur’s Gate looking for an inn to rest your head for the night before setting off bright and early in search of new and bright eyed recruits to send to the Order of the Yellow Rose to begin their training.

And then you’re abducted by a mindflayer ship, have a tadpole inserted into your skull, escape said nautiloid by crashing it, meet the craziest bunch of strangers you'd ever meet in your life, fight countless monsters, fall in love with the man you pulled out of a stone, subsequently save the world and now you're in Waterdeep, resting comfortably on a chaise in front of a roasting fire as the beginnings of winter makes its way through the Sword Coast with a tressym relaxing while you both wait for your fiancé to come back from shopping.

It is very strange how life works.

Tav never would've expected this was how her life would've turned out. She expected to spend the rest of her days in service to the temple, becoming a Grand Master and then training the next warriors of the Era before dying of whatever the gods deemed fit for her. But now? Now she was envisioning a future far from violence and grueling training, replaced with wedding bells, a dress her future mother in law wanted to help her find, and even considering tiny feet with even tinier tails and little nubs for horns.

That was in a not so distant future, however. First, Tav would have to deal with present problems. Mainly gaining the favor of the tressym before her and getting out of her own head.

Tara was like a second mother in law. Don’t mistake her, Tav adored the tressym and she was fairly certain she liked her as well, but there wasn’t much the two had in common. Tav wanted to know everything about Gale's life, and the ones most important to him, but having small talk?

She’d rather spend 12 hours in the Hashi with the grandmasters. It was awkward and so mind numbingly boring! There had to be a better way to get to know Tara better, and by extension, Morena. Nobody wants a daughter in law they know nothing about. Thankfully, sitting by the balcony with a book on her lap about the latest experiments of the thunder wave spell and its effects on the body, she finally had her chance.

Gale was out, getting… something he wouldn’t tell her, but Tara had stayed behind, napping and cozily roasting her feet by the fire to combat the first chills of Waterdeep until a flurry of wings interrupted her sleep. Almost immediately Tara perked up and got into position to pounce on the unsuspecting pigeon. Her wings positioned tight against her body while her rear end wiggled.

Tav had to cover her mouth to stifle the giggles as her own tail flicked back and forth with glee against the couch. That caught Tara’s attention as well, unfortunately, the wide open pupils narrowed into tiny slits again.

“Oh, please forgive me Tara. I don’t mean to laugh,” she says, curling her tail around her feet. “Its just- I love the look on your face when you get so determined like that.”

“Not to worry, Tav.” Tara left the pigeon alone and hopped onto the arm of the chair she was sitting on. “You probably got me at just the right time. I did promise Mr. Dekarios to leave some of the pigeon population alone, but he said nothing about watching the little devils.”

“Gale was probably just worried about any messages being lost.” She says and sets the book to the side. “Are you hungry, Tara? I could cook something for you! Despite what Gale and the others have said about my cooking, I have perfected some dishes.”

“Don’t trouble yourself, my dear.” A tiny paw pats the back of her hand, almost motherly. “Not hungry, just a bit bored I’m afraid. Mr. Dekarios said he would bring something back for the both of us and now it has me sitting on pins and needles.” Tara’s ears perked up before laying flat against her head. “Oh dear, I’ve said too much.”

“No, No, Its ok!” It was nice to hear Gale was planning something. “I promise, I won’t tell a soul you said something, but if you’re bored why don’t we do something together? We could play lanceboard, or um let’s see…”

A soft chuckle came from the winged feline before her, stretching herself out as she climbed onto Tav’s lap. “why are you so nervous my dear? It is just old Tara, we’re all part of the same family. Or will be once you and Mr. Dekarios settle on a wedding date.”

Tav sighed and leaned back against the cushions, hovering her hand over Tara’s soft fur before being granted permission to pet. “but you aren’t just Tara. You’re Gale’s oldest and most dearest friend, practically a second mother to him. I’m just- forgive me it’s silly of me.”

“Its not silly if it’s causing you this much turmoil. Come now,” she hopped off her lap and pulled at Tav’s tail with a quickly conjured Mage Hand-well Paw- to lead her. “Come have some tea. I know Gale bought some of that delicious jasmine tea just for you that I myself have been dying to try.”

Tav fumbled with her fingers as she followed the tressym, feeling more and more like a bumbling fool than a respected monk of the Order of the Yellow Rose. She could beat down goblins, minotaurs, mindlfayers, hell she defeated the Elder Brain and lived to tell the tale!

But Gale wasn’t a problem she could just train and fight away. He wasn’t a problem at all, mind you, but he meant everything to her. Her first true love, the man she saved the world with and the one who encouraged her every step of the way and looked at her with such love she had no idea what to do with it. Tav wanted to make sure she was just as good as he thought she was, the person that he told his family about. Tav wasn’t sure if she could handle them being disappointed in who she really was.

She felt so weak for being like this, but at the same time hated doubting her feelings. For all the good the monks did for her, regulating emotions was not one of the skills taught. Gale had been blissfully patient, waiting while she literally punched her feelings out and comforted her with bandages around her knuckles and a healing potion to amend the damages she’d done to herself.

Gale made her feel like a teenager with their first crush, fumbling over themselves trying to get the feelings out while Gale just… did it. He did it with such ease it made the monk jealous and made her cheeks frightfully warm while all she could do was silence his praises with a kiss that hopefully took his breath away. It was rather ridiculous , as they were to be married some time soon.

Tara showed her where Gale had kept the tea and waited patiently while it brewed, loafing on the table.

“Now, tell Tara what's on your mind. I can guarantee that this conversation stays just between the two of us. “

Tav smiled and poured them each a cup. “Thank you for this. I just…” She chewed on her lip. “I cant help but feel out of my element. Domesticity, peace, tranquility. The monks spoke about it all the time, but it's so different than actually living it. I'm not complaining, don’t misunderstand me, Waterdeep is amazing and I love Gale with my entire being, but…”

“You feel as if you're waiting for the ball to drop.” Tara finished for her. “so to speak?”

Tav sighed and drummed her nails against the tea cup. “Yes. I feel as if Gale will one day realize he wants a real wife, one who can cook without burning a dish, who had a normal upbringing, one who doesn't… doesn't have nightmares about battles long past and can go out for a walk without constantly looking over her shoulder. I’m afraid I’ll be alone again, and I'm not sure I can handle that heart break.”

Tara ignored her cup of tea and trotted over to her side. “My dear, if you think that Gale would ever do such a thing I'm afraid you don't know him at all.”

“Huh?”

Tara put a paw on her hand, “You truly haven't seen the way that man looks at you when you don't notice or what he has done to make you comfortable here. And I don't mean that to sound cruel, I'm sure Gale hid it from you on purpose. Look over there, under the spice rack. That is a cookbook filled with recipes for warriors to keep their energy and maintain their physique. In his desk, he has a book on learning Infernal because he knows you mutter to yourself as you plan your next training session, and he wants to speak to you in your mother tongue. My, when we were out shopping the other day, he stopped a tiefling couple to ask about tail language so he could better understand your emotions.”

As Tara continued, Tav’s face kept getting warmer, her tail beat against the floor with her growing joy and her heart beat ever faster. How had she not noticed any of this? She prides herself on her perception, but all of this slipped past her detection?

“That isn't to say you don't put in the same effort. I've seen the way you clean up his potions, reading your own books on magic and the Weave to understand his passion better. I've also seen the look of complete and utter joy you have on your face when he goes on about his lectures. You don't patronize him, you don't roll your eyes, you pay attention as if you were one of his students. Yes, you two met and went through incredible circumstances, but that means you two have seen each other at your worst and still live each other with everything you have. My dear, Mrs. Dekarios absolutely adores you because you make him so happy! Believe me when I say you have nothing to worry about.”

Tara gasped when two hands went under her front limbs and she was brought into a tight hug with the subtle dampness that was beginning to grow on her fur. She nudged her head against Tav’s chin to comfort her. “Oh no, did I say something wrong? It wasn’t my intention to-“

“No, you said everything right.” Tav sniffed to try and avoid getting about and tears in her fur. “I cant believe- I didn't realize, but thank you, Tara, for everything.” The tiefling set her back down gently, wiping her face as she did. “I… I love him so much, so much so that I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much. And to have that confirmation makes it all the sweeter. You’re a wonderful friend Tara, and I’m so thankful to be apart of your family.”

Tara rubbed against her face and purred loudly. “I feel the same, Tav. You saved my little love, and I will be forever grateful to you.”

“I’m home!” Gale’s voice echoed through the tower, unintentionally interrupting the tender moment.

Tav didn’t waste any time, pressing a gentle kiss to Tara’s forehead before rushing down the steps to welcome her love home. Tara stayed at the table and started drinking her tea, her purrs getting louder as she heard the subtle noises of a smothering of kisses and gentle admonishes from her family.

“My love, I’m happy to see you too- dearest I’m holding gifts-give me a mome-“

A crash, followed by mirthful laughter from both parties made a chuckle flow from Tara as well.

Yes, she thought, this was a love that would be told about for ages.