hello !! i hope ur doing amazing and i wanted to say how much i rlly enjoy reading ur work like its always amazing and just MWAH chef’s kiss fr fr !!
do you think you can do a short writing for either aemond or aegon and how they betray their mother and grandsire for the reader <3 ! sorry if it’s not detailed this is my first time requesting 😔💕
oh and if u can’t i completely understand bookie !!
Broken by War
- Summary: When his mother and grandsire declare you a threat to be rid off, Aemond betrays his family for you.
- Paring: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen
- Note: The reader is the daughter of Rhaenyra and is bonded with Vermithor.
- Rating: Mature 16+ (just to be safe)
- Next Part: 2
- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff
The pressure in the small council chamber was stifling, every member seated at the long, dark table focused on the map sprawled before them. A heavy silence blanketed the room as Dowager Queen Alicent’s voice echoed through the stone walls, calm but insistent.
"We must strike at Rook’s Rest," she said, her eyes glinting with determination. "Vermithor is a threat that grows with each passing day. We cannot allow her to roam free."
Otto Hightower, standing at her side, nodded in agreement. "Rhaenyra has grown too bold. Your niece wields too much power with that dragon. Vermithor must be neutralized, Aemond. Only Vhagar has the strength to bring the beast down, and only you have the will to do what must be done."
Aemond sat at the far end of the table, silent until now, his one violet eye fixated on the map. His jaw clenched as the voices of his mother and grandfather droned on, discussing tactics to trap her. You. The only person he had loved, the one who haunted his dreams and memories of youth.
The very mention of your name, though unsaid, sent a ripple of heat through his chest. His gaze shifted from the map to Alicent, then to Otto, as they spoke of you and Vermithor as mere obstacles—just another enemy to be destroyed.
But you were not a mere enemy. You were his niece, the daughter of Rhaenyra, and the girl who had once shared moments of innocent laughter with him. Before the war, before the bloodshed, before the divide of loyalties had driven them to opposite sides of this cursed Dance. How could they expect him to harm you?
A sharp crack split the air. The sound of his fists slamming against the table reverberated through the chamber, startling everyone into silence. Alicent and Otto turned, eyes wide, as Aemond rose from his seat, his face a mask of anger and resolve.
“I will not harm her.” His voice was low, dangerous, shaking with barely contained fury. “I will not harm my niece.”
“Aemond,” Alicent said softly, her brow furrowing as she reached out a hand as if to calm him. “She is a threat. You must understand—”
“No,” Aemond snapped, cutting her off. His gaze burned as he turned on them. “You expect me to kill her? To kill the one person I have loved since we were children? Vermithor is no more a threat than Vhagar is. And Y/N—she is not the enemy you make her out to be.”
Otto’s face remained impassive, but there was a flicker of something dark in his eyes. “She rides a dragon that is an old menace. Rhaenyra and her supporters will stop at nothing to see the end of this war, even if it means your death. You know this, Aemond. Only you can put an end to this before she burns the realm to ash.”
Aemond’s gaze flicked back to the map, the cold stone beneath his hands, and then to the faces of those who had shaped his life, who had molded him into a weapon. But not for this. Not against you. His chest heaved with barely contained emotion as the weight of everything pressed down on him—his duty, his family, his love for you.
Slowly, he shook his head, his voice low but firm. “No. I will not do it.”
“Aemond,” Alicent’s voice sharpened, desperation edging into it. “Where are you going?”
Aemond had already turned, his long coat sweeping the floor as he strode toward the door, each step heavy with purpose. He didn’t look back as he answered, the words cutting through the air like a blade. “I am going to Dragonstone. I will kneel before Y/N and Rhaenyra. I will beg for their forgiveness. For everything. For Lucerys.”
There was a stunned silence in the room as the weight of his words settled. Otto’s voice cut through the quiet, sharp as steel. “They will kill you the moment you set foot on Dragonstone, Aemond.”
Aemond paused at the door, his hand on the cold iron handle, and turned to face them. His eye gleamed with a fierceness that made Alicent flinch. “Then let them. I would rather die at her hand than live knowing I betrayed her.”
He left without another word, his footsteps echoing through the stone corridors, each one bringing him closer to you and the fate he had chosen. The weight of his family’s expectations, of the crown’s demands, fell away with each step. In its place, only one thing remained—his love for you and the need to right the wrongs that had torn them apart.
As he mounted Vhagar, he knew there was no turning back. His path was set, and for once, it was a path he chose for himself.
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equilibrium || Aventurine
Summary:
Aventurine found you by chance, and kept you. Yet, was he any better than the others vying for you?
Wordcount: 4.7k
Read on AO3
Pairing:
Aventurine / Slave!Mermaid!Reader
Tags/CW:
slave reader, implicit trauma, mentions of gambling and human trafficking, slight spoilers for Aventurine's backstory, Hopeful Ending, maybe slightly ooc
Note:
I wrote this for mermay, and for my bday, congrat to me, yippie!! also, unedited bc i rlly wanted to share
edit: sequel - delirium
The bustling of the people surrounded Aventurine, the murmurs waves hitting against him with each step he took. Normally, he wasn’t someone to appear in such a place, much less participate in whatever activities they try to hide. His place was at a table, a couple chips in each pocket and luck to gamble on.
Yet there he was, making his way towards the rendezvous point he was given on a crumpled piece of paper. And if this meeting weren’t so crucial for the plans he has built inside his mind, topping it with his inherent gift, he wouldn’t even be in such a place. A place reminding him too much of who he used to be.
So, keeping a pace in his steps, he tried to hurry without giving the impression that he wanted to leave as soon as possible.
Finally, arriving at the place he has been given direction to, the first thing Aventurine noticed was the stage, still empty, the curtains still closed. He almost frowned, but he caught himself, keeping his face relaxed with his usual smug smile. Instead of worrying about whatever was happening behind the stage, he turned to look for the person of interest.
The moment he spotted them, he leisurely walked over, immediately taking a seat beside them, not caring if it belonged to somebody else, or if there were other free spaces available. He leaned back in his seat, resting his elbow on the edge of the back, as he turned to slightly face his opponent in this upcoming verbal gamble.
But before he could prepare the bait onto his tongue, the lights dimmed and the curtains began to shift as they slowly revealed what was hiding behind it. And Aventurine wasn’t interested, not only that, he was outright disgusted, his neck itching but he refrained from even acknowledging the burn in his throat.
Especially at the sight exhibited in front of the murmuring crowd, gasps simmering down to amazement. Their eyes glued to the tank posed in the middle of the stage. For a moment, Aventurine tried to reign himself in, to focus on his target, but watching said target not even glancing at him, he had to see for himself what could catch the mind of so many people with its simple appearance.
The moment his eyes fixed themselves to the front, everything clicked into place.
Because there you were, floating in the shallow water given to you, limp and listless. And while he normally wouldn't keep his eyes on such a spectacle for such a prolonged time any other time, too busy with too much work and gambling, this time he couldn't, as his eyes noticed something too familiar close to your collarbone. Something still red and swollen, something that made his skin burn with memory.
He had to rip his eyes from the all too familiar sight, only to notice what had truly caught the attention of all these people.
Despite the lack of movement, maybe especially because of the lethargy, the shine of the headlights sparkled off you. Because instead of the pair of legs someone would expect from a person getting sold, your bare skin tapered off into something similar to the skin of a fish. The scales glittered within the small waves of the water, the fins not even trying to hold you, still, lifeless, the same way your eyes just seemed to look through everything in front of you, mind in a faraway place, maybe even safe and sound.
His eyes on yours, but there was nothing to meet. So, he looked away, trying to get his focus back onto his task at hand. But his target was too transfixed to be dealt any deals of his, so Aventurine decided to wait this out. He could be a patient man if it meant more profit in the future.
So, he waited and watched. Watched as the price climbed, as hands shot out without any hesitancy. The price rose, unfurling, and he was not surprised, it was nothing but a spectacle after all. A show that went both ways. Who had more to give, more money, more possession, more desire.
He flexed his fingers. Something hot running through them, making them cling uncomfortably to the skin of his gloves. And before he knew it, his hand was raised, if only for a moment, barely enough for the number to be called out. One that didn’t last any longer than it took for him to let his hand come back to clench against his thigh. A failure. Something he hadn’t experienced in some time. But he supposed that his luck, Gaiathra Triclops, was trying to tell him something, and he could do nothing but accept it.
Without raising his hand again, without tearing his gaze away from you, catching the slight raise of your chest, the only sign of you being more than a glorified corpse. Even if you might as well be one in your state.
He only listened, trying to understand what was being whispered between the ranks of the competitors, anything that could be used against them, any information that could prove itself useful. But as much as he tried to divert his attention, it always returned back to you, to you and that red shimmering in the water.
In the end, the man by his side has won the battle of wealth, gaining the unspoken status, and you. And Aventurine finally got his gaze away from you, if only to finally face the task he was appointed, if only to flee this place as soon as he was done.
Talk and gamble, a quick tongue and quicker hands, that was all he had, his luck aside, yet those were often more than enough. They had to, they were the only things that could never be truly ripped away from him, unlike the memories gaining a certain hazy quality the more he draped himself in luxury, the more often he was called by a different name. And those skills would always accompany him, even if they ripped everything away from him once again, leaving him bare and shivering, at their mercy.
But at this point, Aventurine would rather disappear into the depths of the universe, back into Mother Fenge’s embrace, than to return to that state. But before it comes to that, he would continue using his skills, his life was one big gamble, and in the end, there will be only one winner, the same one as the loser.
A twitch of his fingers, a substitute of shaking his head to regain his senses, as he could not afford to show any weaknesses.
He faced the man, the one now owning you, and he began doing what he was best at. It didn’t take long until his task was wrapped around his finger, or rather in his debt, his being now transferred to the IPC, as they expected him to after this meeting.
Only one thing did Aventurine decide to keep to himself, something that the IPC wasn’t aware of yet, and they would be, without doubt. Yet, he took that one thing to himself, as some form of payment of sorts. Jade would surely understand that he too desired…
A shuddering breath escaped him the moment he stepped out of that glamorous space, leaving the excited shouts behind him, leaving the lingering ache behind him. Only taking two pieces of paper with him, one neat, kept in a folder, the other folded in his pocket, hidden for his eyes only, for as long as possible.
He took a moment for himself, tucked into the shadows, to collect himself, to build the mask back up. The one he couldn’t afford to let crumble in front of anyone, not even himself.
Pulling his shoulders back, he started making his way back to base, and to the only place he might ever call his own, not quite home, but something analogous. And it was more than enough.
After delivering the papers, thus fulfilling the task assigned to him, he let himself take a step into the place belonging to him, if only in name. The inside of the small space was meticulously clean, no dust despite the little amount of time he actually spent in there. And despite its size, it remained impersonal, nothing alluding to the way Aventurine draped himself in luxury and secrets, almost like if one touch too much might lead to the doom of him. With the life he was leading, he could not afford to get attached, much less to an empty space, one carrying his name, but never truly his.
He rid himself of his coat, slowly plucking the rings of his fingers to pile them up on a table, scratch marks the only indication of any use. And, for some reason, he decided to take a peek into the bathroom, only the necessities standing in a line, and the moment his eyes connected with the bathtub, a frown pinched between his brows. This was ridiculous. This whole idea was idiotic, and he should–
There was a knock on the door, startling him out of the bathroom. He was not expecting anyone, nobody should come to this place unless necessary. Yet, the knocks remained calm, no urgency in their rhythm.
For a moment he was keen on ignoring whoever was in front of the door until they left eventually. But he was feeling tired, and he couldn’t know how long they would just keep knocking, and knocking, making noise without any consequences–
And he was already at the door, opening it. Whoever was waiting took their chances and just walked in, but not alone. There were a couple of people just storming this place, and then his eyes landed on the thing they were carrying in.
A tank.
A protest died on his lips as they left as fast as they came, not even an exchange of words, not to him, not between themselves. And as quickly he was all alone once again.
Just, this time he wasn’t that alone anymore. The tank just stood in the middle of the room, taking some space, enough to be noticeable, but not that much to be much of a bother. The lid not allowing any sight into its contents, blocking any light from getting in simply by being a plate of black.
The mere thought of being stuck in such a space, barely enough for someone to lie in, made his skin crawl. Aventurine was never one to feel any kind of claustrophobia, even if he did grow underneath the open sky, the wind on his skin, the ground steady under his feet, free to walk and turn and jump. But this tank, the mere thought of being stuck in the same stagnant place, nothing more than the necessary surrounding him, felt uncannily familiar, and he hated that.
So, he shoved his fingers to find some kind of grasp underneath the edge of the lid, and once he had one, he pulled it off, almost throwing it away as it plopped away much easier than he would have expected. (Almost like they didn’t expect you to get away, but it didn’t take long for him to remember that you had no other choice, no way to get away no matter how much you tried, how much you might have wanted to.)
Fingers running through his hair, he looked down into the tank, to the content he was expecting, yet wished to be null and void.
There was no gaze to meet, no eyes to see him as he peered into the water, the one barely covering you, barely enough, barely clean. Just enough to keep you alive, and the way the water seemed to be muddled and greasy made him uneasy. Or rather the memory of being kept just alive, being constantly threatened by the environment in itself, never secure, never safe.
Abruptly, he stood up and walked over to the bathroom, only to stop at the doorway, darkness in front of him, the bathtub still where he had known it to be. A moment of hesitancy, before he shook himself out of it. For this moment he wasn’t sure if you would have wanted help, if you’d rather take another way, one Aventurine had considered often if not for the promise to his sister. Yet, he decided to pull through, you could still decide to decline whatever he may give you once you come back to your senses, if you ever do.
After flicking on the light, he opened the faucet, allowing the water to slowly fill the water. During this process, Aventurine kept working, as he began to push the tank closer to the entrance of the bathroom. He didn’t know enough to just grab you and heave you into the water, you might not survive any longer periods out of it, jostling you might startle you, leading to some ugly trashing before he even would have the chance to get you close to the tub. And he’d like to avoid as many injuries, especially to his face, as much as possible, thank you very much.
Once the tank was as close to the tub as physically possible, meaning it just laid there besides the door just outside, the bathroom too small for it, he shut the flow of the water, as the tub seemed full enough, almost dangerously full if you were to ask him. But those were details he didn’t have the concentration for.
His focus laid entirely upon your prone body, as he tried to think of a way to lift you up without slipping through his fingers. He doubted he would be able to grab your arms and drag you to the tub, your tail seemed like most of your weight came from there, especially due to its sheer size.
After rolling his sleeves up, and with no other choice in sight, he began sliding one of his arms underneath your shoulders, trying to stabilize your torso as his other arm slung over your tail, pressing it to himself to not lose grip.
A breath and he straightened up, paying attention to not simply let you slip from his grasp, the water between the layers of skin a dangerous player. With quick steps he crossed the bathroom and as much he wanted to throw you in to get rid of the weight, he bowed to let you down slowly, his arms trembling.
Your figure immersed itself immediately into the fresh water, and he thought he might have seen something flutter at the column of your neck. But he avoided looking in that general vicinity anyway, rather turning around to get rid of the tank, or at least to put it somewhere less restrictive. And then, then he had to see what he might do about your presence in his place, occupying his bathtub.
***
It was way too early in the morning, and yet Aventurine was awake, at least that was what he tried to tell himself as he stumbled through the room towards the bathroom. If he had the possibility, he would have stayed in bed longer, yet work called and he did not want to neglect his alleged duties just yet.
His hand tapped around the wall looking for the light switch as he stepped inside, expecting to be able to get through his morning routine as fast as possible.
But before the light illuminated the small space, his eyes caught sight of two reflective disks floating in the dark, turned towards him, and he took a surprised step back, ready to strike back against whatever was invading the place.
His hand brushed the switch, and the light flooded the bathroom. Blinking, he tried to adjust faster to the sudden change.
Muscles still tense, he looked into the direction of the earlier glow. But all he saw was you, arms leaning against the edge of the tub, your head laying on top of it. Your gaze stayed on him, even if you did squint your eyes, almost like some form of mistrust.
And was he not the right one to understand how you might feel. At the same time, he did not have the time to indulge in your curiosity, or his. Rather, he turned around towards the sink and acted nonchalant, as if your mental presence didn’t come as a surprise.
He almost felt the way your eyes traveled over his form, catching onto the word on the side of his neck. The one so similar, if not identical to yours. And your confusion could be sensed even without you moving in the slightest, without him even daring to glance at you.
For a couple of seconds, he acted as if the water coming out of the sink was the most interesting thing to ever be seen today, until he realized how much he must have been stalling and shut it off with a click.
And he couldn’t help it, he turned towards you, ready to look you in the eyes, look at your current disposition. But before he fully faced you, there was a barely heard splash, and the only thing he could see was the tail end of yours slightly peeking out of the water.
Shifting his weight slightly, he furrowed his eyebrows. He truly didn’t know what to expect or what to do. So, he did what he thought best, he turned around. Only, the hold of his feet was much too precarious as his balance tipped over, all because of a little puddle against the tile floor.
His reflexes caught on faster than his brain, and his arms were holding him, clawing at the edge of the basin as his legs slowly slumped to ground. Only once he was secure on the ground did he allow himself to breathe again, the air releasing after the sudden fall had almost choked him.
He began to lessen the tension in his arms, only to suddenly be face to face with you, inches barely between the two of you; only him slightly looking down on you.
Your eyes were wide open as they stare him down, and the moment you opened your mouth he couldn’t help but glance towards them; expectancy rushing through him. But all he got were a couple of clicks, coming from the depth of your throat.
And it seemed like you sensed his confusion, as you put your arms at the spots where his once were and stemmed yourself higher, to be at the same height as him. Releasing one of your arms from the spot, you let it slowly approach his skin, his neck, his code.
Surprisingly, Aventurine didn’t even think of dodging your careful touch, rather, he anticipated it. There was just something about the way you barely let your cold fingers touch him, how it was more about making sure it was real than about the contact itself. Cold water dropped down the column of his throat as you continued to trace the one thing you both shared, at least externally.
His breath shuddered as you began to apply more pressure, and with that he pulled away. He couldn’t afford to slack right now, even with the frown you were giving him, the slight tilt of your head as you let out a couple of clicks, a question tinting them.
He sighed as he brushed his hair aside, his wet fingers letting them stick in place. There was no way to know if you understood him, but he had to try, right?
With a couple of sentences he explained that he had to go, work and people were expecting him. And even if it seemed like you grasped what he meant, the frown never left your face. Yet, you let him go without trying anything.
So, he left.
***
The day had worn him out. Aventurine knew the gamble, was the best at it, yet it didn’t mean that he had to enjoy it. The only thing he got out of this work were the benefits, some better than others.
He wanted nothing more than to lay down, yet the absent buzzing of the background made the calm and quiet almost oppressive, almost like his ears were stuffed.
With a sigh, he went through the same motions he did every time he came back. Only to falter slightly the moment he heard a splash coming from the bathroom.
Right. You were still there.
Loosening his collar, he made his way to the bathroom, this time expecting the ominous glow of your eyes. But when he peered inside, there was only darkness, the light switch was off and your eyes covered by the water. The only indication of your existence were the almost too loud waves of the water.
His fingers found the switch, and light flooded the small space. Once again, all he could see of you was part of your tail, and he realized that the bathtub might be just a tad too small for you.
The moment the light touched the surface of the water, the movements of the waves intensified, and as he slowly stepped towards the basin, your torso emerged out of the water with a sudden jerk, only to come face to face with him once again.
As much as he wanted to say that he was better prepared, he still flinched slightly at the sudden jump. Your movements had sprayed water all over the floor and all over him. Aventurine could feel the way spots of his clothes slightly stuck to his skin and the water droplets running over his skin.
With a couple of clicks, you grabbed his hand to tug him closer. Taking a couple steps closer, he carefully kneeled beside the tub and ignored the way the puddles on the ground soaked into the tissue of his pants. Rather, he put his focus on you, the way your cold fingers were gingerly holding his wrist while you led his own to your skin.
Warm meets cold, and this time it was your skin reacting to his touch. Yet, you didn’t relent, rather you applied more pressure, until he noticed where you had put his finger onto.
Your own code. The one warmer than the rest of your skin, red edges and raw borders.
His mind tumbled. Was he any better than these people buying and selling, acting like everyone was nothing but profit? Wasn’t he acting the same way, taking and keeping people, hidden under the dark.
He jerked his hand away from yours, abruptly standing up, his soaked pants cooling him down to an uncomfortable degree.
And this time, he left without any words.
***
This time, HE kept the lights on, as some kind of mercy. But whatever effort HE put into this little thought of HIS only brought more pain. Your eyes were killing you, the shine of the lamp above searing your retina. Still not used to the lamps of the land, as the water below remained dark, always.
So, you kept them close, and stayed underwater, the only comfort for your hot eyes and burning mark.
Resting your head against the bottom of the bathtub, you couldn’t help but frown. You had no idea what you were doing in this place. Most so-called owners of the past were people equipped with handling you, big tanks, so much space (and the eyes, never leaving you, always staring, always desiring). Some grew tired of you, others couldn’t keep maintaining the tanks and the technology, while a couple simply went out cold, or whatever. It didn’t matter to you, as you kept being handed around, sold to whoever got feverish with the idea of owning you.
And you, you had given up on going back home. There was no such place anymore. At least from what you understood from the conversations over the edge of the tanks. They sucked it dry, and whatever wouldn’t bring them enough profit was left to rot on top of the hot sand.
So, the only thing you could do was nothing. Nothing but survive. You couldn’t fight, you couldn’t run away. You were completely dependent on whoever was keeping you in their palm.
Your fingers brushed against the mark on your shoulder, the dull throbbing intensifying with each stroke. You had never had one of these before, every owner wanting to keep you as beautiful as you were, only selling you to private people. But you supposed these traders didn’t care for such pretenses, thus officially marking you as property, as something to own, to sell and buy.
It bothered you, really, just being in this place, having no idea what was expected of you. HE never seemed to have any favorable reaction to your existence, which boils your blood. You didn’t want to be in this place either, HE was the one to bring you to this space.
But the image of HIS mark flashing through your mind calmed you a little bit. You didn’t quite understand why HE had one, yet could walk around so freely, but you knew that HE was in some way aware of the situation you were in, how living had been like this.
So, you decided to cut HIM some slack, even if you wanted nothing more than to understand HIS intentions towards you, besides the impossible freedom of course.
Curling your fingers, long nails soothingly scratching your skin, you let your mind wander.
***
It took some time until HE visited you again, it was almost like HE was actively avoiding you. Thinking back on your last encounter, on HIS facial expression HE probably was. And you didn’t mind the solitude, even if the small environment quickly grew boring and dull. But that too, was nothing new to you. You just dived into yourself in the way you would dive into the deep water.
So, you barely noticed HIS arrival, simply floating in the unmoving, almost stale water. The thing alarming you of HIS presence was the noise. The scratching of HIS rings, the glide of HIS clothes against each other, HIS oh-so-careful yet confident steps. You knew HE was in this room with you, yet you stayed underwater, suddenly so unsure what you were supposed to do.
An image flashed through your mind, one so unpleasant that your body almost flinched on itself. You didn’t know if it was a good thing to be reminded of your expected behavior like this, but it was a reminder nonetheless.
Collecting yourself, you emerged slowly, only allowing your head to break the surface of the water.
You didn’t know what to expect (an imposing figure looking down on you, ready to strike–), but it was not HIM once again kneeling as low as possible beside the bathtub containing you, almost like HE was trying to be on the same level as you, how absurd–
“I’m sorry,” He softly murmured, His voice careful and almost hesitant, yet His eyes stayed on you, unwavering.
You had so many questions, but you could never convey them to him, and you shouldn’t, it wasn’t your turn to speak, who were you to try to talk.
Out of instinct, your head moved slightly to the side as you blinked slowly at Him, and He slowly raised His hand, reaching out to you.
(Skin against skin, a sharp sting, over and over again–)
His fingers carefully touched your cheeks, barely any contact, yet the difference in temperature something to shiver at. But you didn’t dare to, you didn’t dare to move.
Trailing your skin, your throat as you swallowed, He only stopped when His skin was about to meet your marking. Another whisper, another apology fell from His mouth.
And for some reason, you did something you would have never dared to, you took the hand touching you, your other hand carefully meeting the skin of His, fingers carefully around His neck. Slowly, you pulled Him closer to you.
With a soft click of yours you let his forehead rest against yours. And as if he understood everything you wanted to tell him, the tension melted away from his body as he slumped against you.
Holding him against your skin, a small equilibrium between you, you think that everything might turn out alright after all.
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Its okay if you dont wanna do this but i really wanna know what you think mizu would do when reader gets her period
modern!mizu x reader gets her period (request)
tags: period, cuddling, fluff, kissing, modern au, modern mizu, mizu being best girl
a/n: ok midterms r coming up so soon HAHAHAHAH (im so nervous)
modern!mizu would def have the supplies
but i’d feel like she’d carry the lighter, smaller pads
but on most days, mizu would be a tampon used
to ur surprise, she typically uses panty liners for the majority of her period
and even if she does get a heavy period, she can handle it on most days
(yeah im fucking jealous i wish that was me)
like perfect silky hair and thin pads???
mizu my girl
hand those genes over
anyways
she would have aspirin and a hot pack on hand if u need it
when she was growing up, they used to be super heavy but now they've become lighter
if ur a heavy flow typa gal,
oh lord its extra packs for mizu to buy
at first, she would be rlly confused at the sizing and the number of flaps/extensions the pads would have
and what specific color to buy
(iykyk my heavy flow girls will know)
but she doesnt mind, u need them
as long as her girl is covered and safe and sound
if ur a tampon girl, mizu would double check to make sure she got ur brand when she goes shopping
modern!mizu would notice ur cycles, especially the week beforehand when ur rlly moody
whether its u being acting more impatient or upset than usual
she checks and makes sure that she has the necessities at hand
if she doesnt, she’ll say she’s just gonna run some errands
technically its not a lie
she does go to the closest convenience store
but the errands in question: pads/tampons and something sweet
(personally im a chocolate sweets girlie)
she’ll get u a lil sweet treat that’ll last u for a week or two
modern!mizu would also pour an extra cup of tea for u before bed
she just wants u to be as comfortable as u can be during ur period
and if u guys are cuddling and watching something before bed
she’ll make sure to keep u comfortable
“Mizu, pleaseeee. Just one more episode?”, you plead. You guys had just finished the second to last episode of the show. Sure, you felt a little tired. But the thought of moving and crawling off of Mizu’s chest didn’t outweigh the comfort of the couch.
Mizu sighs.
“You always do this and then you end up falling asleep.”, Mizu states as she grabs the remote control.
“Not necessarily-“, you rebute. Technically, she wasn’t wrong with your history of falling asleep. But not this time.
“Mmhmm. Right…”, she responds, a little sass in her tone.
You pout. “Please. I promise, I’ll stay up.”
You place your warm cup of tea aside, allowing you to wrap your arms around Mizu’s neck. You feel the heat of her neck against your forearms.
“Besides, it’s the final episode.”, you smile. You look at Mizu for sign of defeat.
“Ok fineeee,” she clicks on the next episode button, “Stay awake now. I’m not summarizing it this time.”
You plant a kiss on her cheek, pulling her closer to your body. She places her mug next to yours and letting her arms wrap around your body. You feel the warmth of her hands press against your body, almost burning from the hot tea.
“I promise I won’t.”, you assure as you sit back against Mizu’s chest again. You feel Mizu’s arms relax and allow you to prep yourself before watching the finale.
Mizu smiles as she felt your body lay back on hers. Your weight alongside the blanket you’re sharing relaxes her. You feel her arms gently wrap around you again as you hear the intro to the episode play.
Her hands start to drag along your sides to your stomach. You feel her burning palm place itself on the top of your lower stomach. Its presence shared a similarity to a heat pad.
You hum in response. While her right hand is busy drawing attention to your lower stomach, you feel her other hand wrap around you and pull you closer. You feel her lips lightly graze your shoulder.
“Mizu, it feels good but-”, you say as her right hand starts to gently massage your stomach.
Fuck. That feels so nice.
You hold back a groan. “Not here, hon.”, you say as you nod your head towards Ringo’s bedroom door.
“I know, don’t worry.”, Mizu responds as she places a soft kiss near your neck. “I just want you to feel comfortable now. You’re on your period, right?”
You nod in response.
“So c’mere. I’ll keep you nice and warm.”
modern!mizu would put ur towel in the dryer while u shower
ik its oddly specific
but i feel like she would make sure to make u feel warm in any way possible
with or without heat pad
same concept applies for the blanket
shes always so thankful her and ringo got an apartment with an in-unit washer dryer
when ur washing up, she’ll typically be doing some light studying with some tea before bed
a break inbetween would be the pop the towel in the dryer
next break is swapping out the towel for the blanket
final break is bringing back the blanket right before u get into bed
its a strange strategy but it helps her stay focused and paces herself while synonymously taking care of u
modern!mizu would make sure she’s wrapping her arms around ur lower stomach when ur cuddling at night
the heating pad gets annoying to sleep with
especially if u tend to toss and turn at night
but having her hands warm u helps u relax at night
when ur trying to sleep, she’ll gently caress and massage ur stomach to help release any tension
at first, u thought it wouldnt have an effect on u
but the more she did it, the more relieved u felt at night
mizu would also feel relaxed knowing that u r relaxed as well
when she heard ur snores, she knows shes done a job well done
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"i'm here now, aren't i?
diluc x gn!reader
genre: fluff/hurt-comfort??
word count: 1.6k (i got carried away)
tags: diluc is our mr darknight hero, soft hours, diluc gets wounded :( but its fine u can take care of him, many kiss, such cuddle, shy diluc at the end bc i have brainrot gonna be honest
tw/cw: descripton of blades (swords), brief description of cuts/wounds + treating them, scars, reader is alone at night (idk if this is worth mentioning but better safe than sorry), diluc carries reader in some positions that would be considered sorta feminine????, insomnia (?), lmk if i missed any
a/n: FINALLY DILUC! gotta say, i love the graphics for this sm, i feel like i did a rlly good job (giving myself credit bc they're pretty). i love soft boi diluc and intend to write for him more ngl, anyways, enjoy!
a wet, stormy night at dawn winery proved to be the reason for your lack of sleep. the sounds of the thunder and lightning clattering outside, accompanied by the drumming of the rain on the window were so loud that they tried to take priority in your mind. however, the only thing you could bring yourself to think about was your lover, all alone, in the cold.
the empty space in the bed next to you, the lack of his presence, the ominously daunting weather outside. these things all worried you.
what if he got hurt?
what if something was wrong?
what if…?
don't think about it. don’t.
you knew that you wouldn’t be getting sleep anytime soon, so you got out of bed, putting on the bathrobe which was hanging on the wardrobe door, and brought yourself to the sitting room, perhaps to distract yourself with a book? but in reality you were just going down there to wait for him.
so you waited
first 10 minutes
then 30 minutes
then an hour
then decided that enough was enough
you could defend yourself in combat, you could wield a weapon, and you would do anything to know that diluc was okay.
and so you found yourself back in your bedroom, in the wardrobe, looking for the longsword he told you he had left in there for emergencies.
the blade was sharp, and glinted silver in the light. the handle was encrusted with what you could only assume were rubies, and so you concluded that this sword must have costed diluc a significant amount of money.
you lifted the sword from its case, sheathed it, and then you realised the weight of the weapon, which wasn’t exactly the lightest, to say the least.
you left the winery, still in pyjamas, your bathrobe having been replaced with a jacket, quietly closing the front door to your home as to not awaken any of the staff who also lived there.
if you were going to be quite honest with yourself you weren't sure where exactly you were going, but you just began walking down the path…
the night was eerie. the cold, windy air hit your cheeks as you moved slowly away from the winery. it wasn't shortly after you began your walk that you heard a sound. an immediate response of adrenaline came to you, and so you drew your sword, ready to face whatever was coming near you.
after about ten seconds of standing still and hearing the sound get closer to you, you saw a red light glowing about ten metres away. with your sword still drawn you moved closer to the light, preparing for combat, and the light moved closer to you as well.
within a split second, you realised that the light was that of a pyro vision, the light of his pyro vision. you dropped your weapon on the ground, and he did the same as you ran to him. as if by natural instinct, you jumped into his arms as he wrapped once of them around your waist, and used the other to hold you up. neither of you said anything for a bit, simply holding each other and allowing yourselves, and your heart rates, seemingly, to calm down. after all, you must have startled the man, appearing out of nowhere like that.
he placed you gently down, back onto your feet as he held your waist with one hand, and placed the other on your cheek.
the man had a face of pure concern as he looked into your eyes, why would you possibly be out here at this time of night?
his hair was tousled, and his lip had been cut, presumably in some sort of rough battle. not only that, but his shirt had been slightly ripped as well, presumably by some sort of sword, or in this case, a mitachurl axe.
“have you been injured? are you well? why are you out here?”
these were all things you ought to be saying to him, so why was he so concerned about you?
“i was worried about you, you were supposed to be home and i-”
“do not worry, all is well, i am here, love”
“you’re hurt”
“surface level injuries dear, please, settle. I’m here now, arent i?”
“yeah, yeah”
he pulls you into his arms, placing a kiss upon your head.
“let’s go home, you’re cold.”
and so, without dwelling upon it, you walk hand in hand back in the direction of the winery, coming across the sword you had previously dropped on the ground. you sheathed it once again, and picked it up. diluc let out a light chuckle.
“you were really that worried about me?”
“what do you mean, of course i was!”
“my dear, a weapon of this size is far too heavy for you to carry, allow me”
“you can’t, you’ve already got your own sword, its too much and you’re injured an-”
he cut you off…
with his lips…
“i'm fine. trust me. i'm more than capable of carrying this sword, its only half the weight of mine”
“hmph, fine. but don't come crying to me later when your back hurts, mister high-and-mighty!”
“very well, sweetheart”
you grabbed his large, calloused hand to lead him back to the winery, and although you wouldn’t see it in the moonlight, a rosy blush dusted itself over his cheeks. archons, he loves you.
as the pair of you entered the winery once again, diluc placed both his weapon and yours down beside the front door, smiling to himself at the fact that you cared about him this much. it also seems to him that you didn’t notice, the longsword you had gotten out of the closet matched his greatsword, it was simply a smaller version.
you both enter the sitting room, which is still dimly lit. diluc gestures towards the fire, which immediately relights, due to the skilled use of his pyro vision.
“you are cold, dearest. i shall move the sofa closer to the fire, and we will sit for a while, yes?”
“luc’, at least let me tend to your wounds first, you're hurt”
the look of concern on your face caused a veil of guilt to loom over him. but he brushed it off, as to not make you feel bad about caring for him so much.
“fine, but be gentle”
“i will”
and so, you both sat on the soft plush of the sofa, diluc with his shirt off, and you gently caring for the shallow wound slightly above his left pectoral, dabbing it with a damp towel. his skin was covered in battle scars, but it was beautiful, in some way. these were the lengths your lover would go to for the sake of other people, an admirable trait to say the least.
diluc admired your concentration whilst caring for his wounds, and was slightly surprised when you manoeuvred your body to straddle his lap, only so you could get a better angle to analyse his injuries, of course (definitely not to look at his muscular arms or anything like that). he placed one of his large hands on your thigh, and the other on your waist, as you gently cared for any other wounds on his body. your skin made contact with his as you put your hand on the warm skin of his shoulder to balance yourself.
“you’re freezing, dear, your hand is so cold”
“hm, i guess i just didn’t warm much since being outside”
“that won’t do”
a gentle heat began to spread through you, from your heart around the rest of you, warming every inch of your body. he had used his vision on you.
“tsk, pyro users”
“i know, right?”
the man was surprisingly chipper, considering the injuries he had sustained. you both laughed, for some unknown reason, at a joke which wasn’t really all that funny, but that’s love for you. and as the light of the fire began to dim, and the pair of you began to tire, he placed a gentle kiss upon your lips.
“shall we go to bed, dear?”
“yes, please! archons- i’m tired”
“i'm sorry, i feel that this is my fault”
“oh it is entirely your fault, mister darknight hero”
“i told you not to call me that”
“and i told you not to stay out too late, no?”
he let out a chuckle, lifting you from your position on the sofa, and carrying you to your shared bedroom, whilst holding you close to his chest. he removed you from his grasp momentarily, placing you on the bed and telling you to get under the covers, just so he could remove the necessary garments to be comfortable for bed.
yawning, he pulled back the duvet and placed his weary body next to yours, quickly moving to bury his head in your chest and wrap his arms and legs around you. your hands moved to his hair out of natural response, gently massaging his scalp as you fiddled with his vermillion locks.
"i love you, y/n”
“i love you more, luc’”
you placed a sly kiss to the crown of his head, and he only hid his face from you further out of shyness, whining into the fabric of your pyjamas.
“you’re so cute”
“don't call me that”
“night, cutie”
and so, you both drifted off into slumber, held in each others arms, held in love.
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