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lovifie · 3 days

Note

Hey there Lovifie.

I hate to bother you but can I ask for a request?

You see the thing is that I’ve been having a few bad weeks lately and the news I got today just really pushed me to the point that I can’t stop crying now.

Long story short, I’ve applied again for another promotion within my department for my job; this would be the third time I’ve tried for one and for the third time I was passed over for someone else. I honestly don’t know what I’m doing wrong; why they're not choosing me. I’m doing everything they’re asking for, going above & beyond for them and more but apparently it’s just not good enough for them. I just don’t know what else I can do.

Now I feel like I’m not good enough for anything; I'm confused and it hurts. Can I please request a comfort fic of John Price or Poly141 comforting a curvy, Mexican female reader who just feels like she's not good? Please? 🙏🏽 💔

My dear, you are never ever a bother. I’m really sorry to hear you have been having the last couple of shitty weeks, I sent you a message before and I hope this cheers you up a bit and everyone that may be having a rough time 🩷

I did it with poly141 because if we are looking for comfort we are going all out!!

The boys are back home and you know it, they got home last week, spending most of the time together, bathing in each other comforting proximity, helping them decompress after their deployment.

You didn't tell them about what was troubling your mind, they already have enough on their plate and you didn't want to bother them. Or that's what you thought it would be, a bother.

That's why you are standing before the door, knowing you have to enter but trying to recollect your feelings to be able to portray a happy face when you finally open the door.

But the door opens before you want it to, Simon's brown eyes staring at you. “What are you doing, lovie? The motion camera is going nuts…” he trails off, looking at how you try your hardest to look fine. “Everything alright?”

You quickly nod, walking past him, kissing his cheek standing on your tip toes. “Yeah, all good. Was trying to remember where I put my keys.” You laugh, thinking that it is believable as you enter. He doesn't buy it but chooses to stay quiet. You will talk when you need it.

You leave your bag on the floor next to the door, taking off your shoes and Simon helps you take off your jacket, hanging it on the hook next to Johnny's. “How was work?”

“Horrible.” You think, but instead, you sight and murmur. “Tiring.”

“Did I hear somebody say they are tired?” Johnny's voice beams in the room when he walks to you like a happy puppy, hugging you from behind and hiding his face on your neck. You move your hand back to pet the back of his head. “You tired, mami?”

You nod, with a smile on your face. Closing your eyes when he kisses your cheek squishing your face with his. “Then eat dinner and straight to bed.”

“No shower?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Nah, you are still clean for a couple more days. Right. Or are you stinky?” He says, moving his head back with a confused expression on his face, only for him to hide his face again in your neck making you chuckle when he sniffs your smell dramatically hard. “Yeah, not stinky.”

He pats your butt, as in signing the deal that you don't need to shower and you smile shaking your head.

His silliness is almost enough to make you forget the hardness of your day. Almost.

“Is she home?!” Kyle's voice sounds from the kitchen and you follow his voice like a moth to the light. Hearing Simon tell Johnny to go shower his stinky self, making him whine.

“Hi, Riri.” You say, using the nickname he hates so much.

He groans, scrunching his face at you making you laugh. “I'm not Rihanna, love.”

“Hm, but you sound just like her when you shower.” You say hugging him from behind, he is standing in front of the stove, taking care of dinner. Some kind of pasta getting boiled while he works on the sauce on the pan right in front of you.

So close to it, that when Kyle moves, threatening to tickle you for teasing him, you move your arm to shield yourself. But your forearm crashes with the pan, making it fall and burning you in the process.

Kyle manages to catch it by the handle just in time before burning himself or spilling it all over the floor. He turns off both of the stoves, to make sure nothing burns while he checks on you.

“You alright, love? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stood so close.” He says, but your eyes are glued to the spot of sauce on the ground. Almost nothing fell from the pan, barely enough to fill half a glass.

But the thought in your mind makes you write it at the top of the list of things you have fuck up. And it makes your eyes tear up with the feeling of simply not being good enough.

“Sunshine.” Kyle calls you, cupping your face so you will look at him but his eyes follow you, seeing the sauce on the ground. “Hey, hey, it's okay.”

“I'm sorry.” Your voice cracks making you inhale to try and calm yourself down. “I'm sorry, Kyle.”

“Hey, what happened to Riri?” He asks with a kind smile on his face. “Don't apologise, love. It's okay, there is more sauce stuck to the spoon than on the floor, love. No problem, alright? Everything is fi- you are burnt!”

He cuts himself off when he sees your skin red with the burnt, he grabs your wrist pulling you to the sink to move your arm under running cold water. “I'm sorry, love. Poor baby…”

“Hi, mami.” Price says entering the kitchen, he must have just come out of the bathroom. Possibly kicked out by Johnny, because he enters the kitchen only wearing his pyjama pants, hair still moist. You look at him, eyes wet with tears making him furrow his eyebrows in worry. “What happened?”

“Little cooking accident, nothing to worry about.” Kyle answers, rubbing circles on your hand still under the water with his thumb. “Can you pass the mop, please?” Kyle asks, pointing with his face to the sauce on the floor.

“I'll do it.” You say, trying to pull your hand from Kyle's grasp. “I spilt it, I'll clean it.”

“Nonsense, you and I are bothering Johnny to grab the burns cream from the bathroom. Let's go, we might see his bubble butt if we are lucky.” Kyle jokes, winking at you, trying to get you to smile.

But you are already too deep in your own thoughts to do so, you sigh, rubbing your eyes at the sting of your tears and shaking your head. “I'm fine, I'm just… I'm just going to go to bed.”

“Without eating?” Simon walks into the doorframe, handing the mop to Price who cleans the floor keeping an eye on you. “Are you grounding yourself or what, love?”

And you try your best to not cry, to hold it in, at least until you are in your room, with your privacy to cry yourself to sleep. But then Johnny also walks in, talking about if anyone knows where his towel is; and his blue eyes catch yours, shining with worry when he sees your tears.

“What happened?” He asks, repeating Price's words without knowing it.

You look at them, the four pairs of eyes looking at you, expecting an explanation, worry and curiosity clear on them. And it only makes your eyes sting more with a new batch of tears that easily roll down your cheeks.

It makes you cover your face with your hands, sobbing softly against your palm. One of them hugs you, pressing you against his body and you know it's Price for the warmth emanating from his naked torso.

“Let's go to the living room, the kitchen is too small for five people.” Simon comments, his hand resting on the small of your back, caressing comforting circles on it.

When you don't move, Price moves his hands under your armpits, raising you to hold onto him like a koala. Crying on his strong shoulder like a baby, a big baby.

He sits down on the sofa, moving you so you are sitting on his lap sideways, your face still hidden on his neck. You feel everyone else find their place around the two of you. Kyle is sitting next to Price on the sofa, your feet resting on his lap, his warm hand resting on your calf under your trouser warming you up. Johnny is sitting on the armrest of the sofa, his hand resting on your ribs, moving up and down as well, moving slowly to help you breathe slower. And Simon is kneeling on the floor behind the sofa, one arm bendt on the backrest of the sofa to lean his head on it and the other hand petting your head, brushing your hair.

But no matter how comforting his touches are at the moment, the door holding the tears in has been opened and they are rolling freely down your face into Price's exposed shoulder.

It's long after that, that you manage to breathe normally again. Still hiccuping but now oxygen getting to your lungs.

Simon is the first that you look up, moving your hand from Price's shoulder to grab Simon's finger, the man curling his finger pulling your hand to his. A soft smile on his face. “Hey, pretty girl.”

Price looks over your shoulder, using his thumbs to dry the tears from your face, kissing your cheek. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks, the only answer he gets from you is in the way of shrugged shoulders.

Simon stands behind you, letting your hand fall onto Kyle's and groaning when his knees pop as he stands up. He sits on the opposite armrest from Johnny, next to Kyle and looks at your face when Price moves you lower so you are resting your face on his chest.

“What's wrong, love?” Price asks looking at you, his hand petting your thigh.

“I… I just keep fucking everything up…” You admit, voice tiny, afraid that if you speak any louder the tears will return. “I ruined dinner, I ruined tonight, I ruined everything…”

“What are you talking about?” Johnny asks behind you. “You haven't ruined anything, lass. Everything is right.”

“Surprisingly, Johnny's right, love.” Gaz says, Johnny making an offended noise behind you. “Nothing is ruined, love…”

“Did something happen at work today?” Simon asks, regretting the moment you lock eyes with him and your eyes glisten with tears.

You nod again, melting into Price's arms. “We are proud of you, you know that right?” Price says, making you sob again. “We were proud before today, we will be proud tomorrow, we were proud of you weeks ago and we will be even more proud of you in the future.”

“You don't even know what happened…” you sniffle, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“We don't need to.” Johnny says. “We know you. And we know that you always try your best, that you work your ass off and that you are a bloody good worker, love.”

“Yeah, I just need to make my boss see it too.” You mumble, sadness being replaced by annoyance.

“We can always murder him.” Simon says, earning himself a group groan of his name. “I'm just saying.”

“What Simon's trying to say.” Price says, turning to you again. “Is that if all four of us can see it… he will eventually see it too.”

“Yeah, it's his fault he is so stupid it's taking him so long.” Gaz says, smile on his face.

“But I'm tired of it…” You admit, pout on your face as you lean your head back onto Johnny, the man resting his hand on your face, caressing your cheek.

“That's normal, love… How about we take care of you, him?” Johnny asks, making you look at him. “Let's have dinner, then you and I take a stinky bath, and then… a movie? Some cuddles? Sounds good?”

You nod before answering. “Yeah… sounds really good.”

All of them but Price stand up at your words. “Dinner time it is, boys.” Gaz says, walking into the kitchen as Johnny and Simon set up the table.

“Should we help them?” You ask Price, looking over his shoulder.

“Nah, they can themselves.” He answers, cupping your face to give you a peck on your lips. “You are amazing, love… don't forget it, alright? You are more important than your job, a promotion or anything going on, alright? We love you, cariño.” He says, accentuating the “r” to make you smile.

And later, when you are sitting down with the four of them at the table, the only thing you can think about is about how lucky you are.

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jarofstyles · 20 hours

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Can you write something about love bites pretty pleaseeeeee like Harry’s obsessed with giving them

Yes 🤭🤭🤭🤭 here is a tiny one!

Check out our Patreon

Warnings- kinda dirty hehe

——

“So pretty.” Fingers brushed over her sensitive skin as she looked in the mirror, trying her best to ignore how the sensation wanted to make her shiver. The large form behind her wasn’t helping her achieve that at all. “You look so gorgeous tonight but… my favorite are these.” The marks on the curve of her neck that he’d sucked into pretty bruises, blooming purple.

It was no secret between them that Harry quite liked the marks on her, but he liked putting them there the most. “Thank you.” She laughed through her nose, blending the makeup on her cheeks before setting the little sponge down. “But you’re very distracting, you know that? How am I supposed to cover them if you’re petting all over them?”

“Don’t!” The whine was nearly comical as she caught his scowl in the mirror. “Don’t cover up the art, precious. Leave ‘em there.” It was a travesty, in his opinion, any time they were covered with makeup. Even if she was quite talented at the magic of making them disappear, he didn’t appreciate his little marks of love being covered up. “S’not like we’re going to the Louvre- which, they’d probably appreciate the art anyways. We’re goin’ for drinks at a dingy club to buy overpriced martinis while we chat shit while I wait for you t’get tired enough for me to bring home and love on you.”

Harry was many things. Blunt was one of them.

“Tell me how you really feel, H.” She snorted, putting powder under her eyes. Her hand stuttered though, when she felt him tuck his face into her neck and a wet, hot swipe licked over the marks. It was a bit pathetic how quickly she felt lax, like a dog rolling over for belly rubs, but she gave a shaky exhale as his teeth found a new patch of skin to nibble on.

“I feel like… you should leave those marks so people know t’fuck off, that you get fucked well, that you’re mine. Let their imaginations run wild about how I gave ‘em to you balls deep, or if I did them just like this. As long as they know that you’re a loved and taken woman, m’a happy man.” The grumbles against her skin were finished with another bite, eliciting a noise blooming from her throat.

It was hard to say no to the man in most capacities, with his soft green eyes and his strawberry pout, but when he ran his hands over the front of her dress and his tongue over her throat as he found a new patch to work on, sucking harshly enough to make her knees weaken and her clit throb between her legs? It was impossible. “Harry…” the sigh of his name was accompanied by the lull of her head back against his shoulders, letting him slip his hands under the front of her dress and the makeup brush fall into the sink.

“Lucky we’re even goin’ out when all I want to do is worship that sweet cunt all night. But I’ll be good, I’ll let you get finished with your makeup and all that if you leave ‘em be. Show ‘em off for me. Please?” The plead was melted into her bones, breathing picking up as his fingers cupped over her lace covered cunt, holding it firmly. The man knew how to get his way and this was a solid example. The sweet and silly vibe of the room transforming into the hot and sensual teasing one that he had mastered the art of. “I’ll let you choose whatever you want me t’do to you tonight. Whatever my girl wants. Jus’ let me give you another one and leave my art alone. Everyone should be able to see it.”

How could she say no to that?

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry smut #harry fluff #harry angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fic #harry styles au

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tarosunshine · 2 days

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a surprise birthday party for they s/o but the s/o alredy knows about it (i hope you get the idea) riize ver

—⁠ ִ ۫ ⭒ birthday girl ، ، 라이즈

๑ genre fluff 一 warning none ! pairing boyfriend OT7 x fem reader ⋮ bookshelf .

shotaro ۫ ੭

the last week your boyfriend has been acting suspicious, and you noticed. until yesterday, when you accidentally heard him at the phone saying something about a surprise.

so, here you were, with one of his ties over your eyes, and your super excited boyfriend. he brought you to his house, telling you something about dinner.

“and...” he finally undid the knot.

you blinked, getting used to the light, and just before that, your friends jump drom behind the furniture, screaming 'surprise'. your wide your eyes when you see all the people, the confetti, balloons, and food. this was bigger than you expected.

“why? you didn't like it?” shotaro looked at you with worry eyes. you immediately turned yourself as you wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your head on his chest.

“i love you, shotaro”.

“and i love you too. happy birthday”.

eunseok ۫ ੭

you found out accidentally. actually was eunseok's fault, but you didn't blame him. i mean, you never saw your boyfriend so excited about anything; the way he was talking that morning at the phone with such a bright smile as he cooked breakfast. that day you heard something about a surprise party, and you loved it.

the rest of the week, you stayed anxious about that, so excited and happy. staring at your boyfriend, sometimes about to tell him that you already know about the surprise, tell him you loved him for doing such a thing, but obviously you wouldn't do that, not now.

the day came, and eunseok made you brakefast as always; this time making your favorite.

“c'mon, today is a big day” he said as he brought you a cute dress. “you have to wear it tonight, hm?”

saying something about dinner at a fancy restaurant, you went to the car to start the trip. and when you arrived, the familiar faces of your friends appeared, just with a big cake with your name on their hands as they shouted 'happy birthday'.

“i surprised you?” your boyfriend asked as he wrapped his hands around your waist. you nodded with a big smile.

“yes, you do it!” you giggled, looking around the place and then at him. “thank you, seok” when you kissed his cheek the smile on his face grew bigger.

“happy birthday, princess”.

sungchan ۫ ੭

yesterday, when you were cleaning some stuff on your shared bedroom with your boyfriend, you accidentally found out a list, specifically a one with thing for a party surprise, and with your name on it.

that day, an extremely nervous sungchan appeared in front of you, asking about that list, and of course, you said you didn't see it.

your birthday was in two days, it was your first with sungchan as your boyfriend. and that idea of him doing that for you melt your heart. you didn't want him to know that you already knew, so you just acted normal for the next days.

“so, mm.. at night we can go to taro's house. we will make some pizzas. what do you think?” sungchan was looking at you with shiney eyes as you nodded. he smiled.

you two arrived at shotaro's house at 7 pm, holding hands. then all of you spent the rest of the night like you normally do. and when it was 12 a.m., your friends came out of the kitchen with a big cake and silly birthday hats and stuff, making you giggle. seconds later, sungchan also came from the kitchen with a lot of balloons and a present for you.

“happy birthday, love” he whispered on your ear as he was putting the cute necklace in you.

wonbin ۫ ੭

“fuck, wonbin hyung is going to kill me. please don't tell him anything!” the panic on anton's face almost made you laugh. but poor boy, he was scared of your boyfriend.

so last month you've been pretending not to know anything for anton's good, and your boyfriend's too. you don't want all his efforts to be in vain.

“babe, you need to wear that dress the i gave you on christmas. it's for a special occasion”. as his head was resting on his palm, he looked at you, frowned.

“yes, sir..” you joked as you kept doing your makeup. it was six in the afternoon, and your boyfriend was ready in his white swit, the one that he bought just for your birthday. “you look so beautiful” he said all of a sudden.

“i didn't finish yet, bin” you laugh looking at him trough the mirror.

“uhu, but you're beautiful”.

an hour later, you were next to him on his car, with a tie over your eyes. wonbin said something about a special place, and for not ruining the surprise, you need to have your eyes covered. and with his help, you two walked a few minutes until you reached a silent place.

the 'happy birthday' of your friends made you jump in your place when you took off the tie. you knew it, but anyway, you were surprised. the place was decorated so beautiful, and the proud smile on your boyfriend's face was the best of all.

“you know you're the best, right?”

“well.. now i know” he pecked your lips, still smiling. “and know that you knew about this”. that makes you wide your eyes, making him laugh. “thanks for pretending you didn't know, babe. happy birthday”.

“thanks to you, bin” you hugged him tightly.

seunghan ۫ ੭

the day you found out about the party was raining, and you heard seunghan talking on the phone when you brought him an umbrella. fortunately, he didn't see you. 'she's going to love it', he said with a big smile as the elevator door closed.

there were two weeks until your birthday, so the next two weeks you were thinking about that. besides you were only able to see your boyfriend three times in this pastime.

“happy birthday, pretty girl” your boyfriend's smile was the first thing you saw when you opened the door of your apartment. immediately, you hugged him. you had missed him.

you looked at the bracelet on your wrist, admiring it. your boyfriend was so nervous when he gave it to you. and he was waiting for you, so you two could go to eat. you almost forgot about the party when you arrived at that place you didn't know.

grabbing seunghan's hand with excitement and heart beating fast on your chest, you entered the room. before your boyfriend opened the door, a light was turned on; all your friends jumped immediately from their hiding places. the decorations of your favorite color caught your attention and how everything was so nice.

“what do you think, birthday girl?” seunghan kissed your cheek after looking around.

“hmm.. i think that i love you so much, hong” you wrapped your arms around him. he looked down at you, smiling.

“i love you more”.

sohee ۫ ੭

this guy might be a little too clumsy. because boy, why would you talk about a surprise party for your girlfriend when she is 'sleeping' just right next to you? that's how you found out. that afternoon, you two were sleeping on the couch until his phone rang, waking you up, but he didn't notice.

“nuh-hu..” he said as you closed your eyes, trying to keep sleeping. “it's a party for my girlfriend, of course” that caught your attention immediately, but otherwise, you didn't want to keep hearing. fortunately, he hung up after saying that.

the next weeks you been thinking about the party, but at the same time you didn't want to think about it. so you just distracted yourself by doing your routine.

“and at 8 pm. we have to be in this place. it's just a little dinner” sohee tried to sound convincing as he smiled at you. today was finally your birthday, and you were excited, remembering about that call.

the warmth of your boyfriend's hands over your eyes makes you more nervous as you keep walking. when you heard a door open, immediately a sweet smell reached you. and the 'surprise' that everyone shouted made you smile as you recognized their faces, looking at them, and then to your nervous boyfriend.

“why you are the nervous one?” you playfully push his shoulder as you look at him. he frowned with a silly smile on his face.

“i don't know, maybe because i love you, and i wanted you to have a wonderful birthday. and it went well!” cupping your cheeks, he stares at your eyes.

“and it's wonderful, thanks to you. i love you”.

“i love you too. happy birthday”.

anton ۫ ੭

you knew that your boyfriend was someone that likes, no, needs to have a schedule. he needs to have an itinerary, all organized. and it wasn't the opposite when it comes to praper your surpise birthday party.

as you do sometimes, you sit in front of his computer to play sims. he downloaded that game only for you. but when you opened the computer a file with a list and horaries apared. you just read the big 'y/n's b-day party' and you closed immediately, not reading the rest. you felt so guilty the rest of the week.

and one week later, you were in front of your room's mirror, looking at the dress you bought a couple of months ago, still thinking about your boyfriend and the party. you looked at the time, and a couple of minutes later, anton was in your door to pick you up.

“happy birthday!” his cute smile sends you butterflies to your stomach. smiling too, you hugged him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “now let's go” he graved your hand as you start walking through the car.

about thirty minutes later, the pink confetti and the smiles of all your loved ones were in font of you. your heart was racing at this point. you were so happy and excited. you looked at your boyfriend right next to you, admiring you with a bright smile.

“thank you, anton” you hugged him again, surprising him with your arms around his torso.

“actually thanks to you” he said, and you raised your head to look at him. he was still smiling. “you saw the schedule that day..” he scratched the back of his head.

“anton, i didn't mean to. i'm s一”

“no, it's okay. everything goes well, and you pretend not to know. you did it well” he jokes and patted your head, making you your eyes with a smirk. “happy birthday” leaning to you, he finally kissed you.

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paintedpeeta · 2 days

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now, many of us, have at length discussed Peeta “born to be a little shit, forced to be a prisoner of war” Mellark coming into his own after the war, and I would like to hear your take on it but ALSO have we been sleeping on “two can play at the game” Katniss being just as immature when Peeta is pulling his stupid boy behavior? … basically, your headcanons upon the topic “Let Katniss and Peeta Be Normal Teenagers 2024”

this instantly made me think of the part in catching fire where katniss and finnick smear their faces in ointment just to spook peeta… like, if she’s able to be a little silly in the middle of a death match then she definitely goofs off when they’re safe and living a soft life together.

I think katniss’ sense of humour is often overlooked (which is fair enough because there’s a lot going on) but that girl was roasting career tributes names and giving us bangers such as “I suppose the apples ate the cheese” like 💀

but anyway, I agree that she definitely gives as good as she gets. peeta plays on her weaknesses by teasing her and being crude because he knows it makes her flustered, but katniss knows exactly how to deal with him too (think back to the ointment thing, where she uses a soft sing-song voice to call his name and wake him up). she’ll have him on the ropes, distracting him in the kitchen by acting all flirtatious and letting him think he’s about to get some and then THWACK. face full of whipped cream.

also I personally headcanon that peeta is a very neat and orderly person (to a certain extent… the room he uses as a studio for his painting is a wreck at all times) and he’s very specific about the way things should be done. purely in the name of being a pain in the ass, katniss will wrongly pair up socks when its her turn doing the laundry and leave her boots where she kicks them off at the door rather than lining them up the way he does.

just general cat behavior as well. she’ll plop herself down on his lap, to hell with the fact he’s reading the newspaper. yeah she’ll come padding into the room to bug him while he paints and yeah she will knock things off of the desk.

not exactly catlike, but a couple of times she tries to switch around his mug of tea and his mug of paint water. it fails every time because, y’know, he has a nose and all but hey. a girl can dream.

plus a plethora of other things she does just for the love of the game. the game of being a pest, that is. she’ll flick water and suds at him while they wash the dishes together, or shut the hot water off for just a second while he’s in the shower, or bite his finger when he tries to let her taste a new recipe.

when they’re not ribbing each other, they’re teaming up to terrorise poor haymitch. he’s so done with them but he would also never admit how much he likes seeing them so happy and actually getting to act young, even if it does mean being rudely awakened on weekends by the sound of laughter coming from their open windows as peeta crashes around after her because she slipped an ice cube down his shirt and then dashed.

#everlark headcanons #asks #they are absolute fools and you cannot convince me otherwise!

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bucknastysbabe · 3 days

Text

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW//age gap, grooming, manipulation, no one is properly nice, Criston being crazy, Targtower!reader, canon era, anxiety and panic attacks, sibling strife, Alicent is tired, isolation, angst, sad ending, innocence/corruption kink, slight religious kink, v!fingering, oral, frottage, pnv!sex, lots of tears, I was emo okay and no I did not rush the ending no I did not-

WC: 9.5k (idk what happened oops)

Taglist: @arcielee @bambitas @aemonds-holy-milk @lovelykhaleesiii @starogeorgina @fallingintoyourlilaceyes @sugarpoppss2 @fairysluna @jamespotterismydaddy @elaratyrell

Being Alicent’s second daughter, the third of Viserys, your political pawn status was minimal in youth. You minded your own and listened, a constant shadow behind your mother. The queen was your idol— she was strong, devout, and loved deeply. It was your siblings who were willful, dragon blood coursing through their veins that made her fraught.

Somehow it felt you didn’t get any dragon blood. Your egg had refused to hatch, your eyes an ugly dark purple. The worst was that you had red hair. The hair of the Hightowers. You'd been born too late and too plain it seemed. The feeling of being strange led to shyness plaguing you. Hence why you’d clung to your mother’s skirts, she made you feel safe and beloved. Any closeness with your siblings dissolved as time wore on. Alicent apparently didn't mind, even if her child was manufacturing her own isolation.

Aemond devoted himself to scholarly learning, training in the yard, and flying on Vhagar. Helaena seemed to rather keep to herself, stitching beautiful works and catching her lovely insects. Aegon— he embraced hedonism and you’d leave it at that. You had been close with Daeron when he was a babe, loving on your little brother. Then Alicent sent him to Oldtown.

Ser Criston and your mother seemed to be the only presence you were around most of your childhood. You loved the white knight dearly, he’d bring you little gifts and swing you around as Alicent prattled on about something. He was so handsome and chivalrous, always a kind word upon his lips. Just the thought of the oath-sworn knight made you grow flushed and giddy.

You’d hide behind Ser Criston's white cloak when your father occasionally took interest. Viserys seemed annoyed at your shy demeanor, asking Criston to bring you to him. It was dreadful, he was decaying and his rotten smile was frightful. You would weep and shake, turning toward your mother or Criston. Looking for an escape.

The king would frown. He sniffed, “Here Cole, take the girl, Hightower as they come hm?”

Criston’s jaw clenched before he sighed, “Come on princess, we have appointments to keep.” You had grabbed his hand and left— ignoring Viserys' muttering. It brought a feeling of uselessness to your young heart. At least Daeron was bettering himself in Oldtown. The Kingsguard scoffed, “I wouldn’t appreciate sitting in his lap either. He will always have eyes for your half-sister, do remember that. Your mother has your interests in mind.”

“I understand, Ser Criston."

When Alicent was sleeping or tending to the matters of the realm, you oft sat with Ser Criston as he guarded the queen. He would tell you about his youth in the Dornish Marches, harrowing tales of battle and blood. One time as a child you grew so frightened you hopped in his arms. He laughed and petted your hair, “You’re alright, no vulture kings shall get you. Not with me here.” His smile was bright, and his brown eyes lit with humor.

You hid a picture you’d drawn of you all grown up, a beautiful maiden holding hands with Ser Criston. A dragon would be there too. Fantasies plagued your innocent mind, courtly love between a princess and her loyal white knight. Nothing like the isolation and tension that brought strife to your family. Everything was perfect and happy. Everyone loved each other. Stupid, stupid, silly you.

As you matured into the early stages of womanhood, your shyness and frayed nerves did not abate. In fact, fits of crying and shaking began to afflict you. Tourneys, balls, and weddings made your stomach turn and hands grow clammy. The Maester had given a tincture for fits and fears such as these, citing a ‘hysterical disposition.' The tincture was diluted milk of the poppy.

You were half-dazed and daft but no longer weeping through an entire feast. Small victories.

At three-and-ten you visited Dragonstone, bonding with the gorgeous Silverwing. As you flew around the island, tears streamed down your face. It was beautiful, so very beautiful. When you landed, your white knight and mother clapped, proud of their favorite princess. Even Aemond gave a word of applause. Rhaenyra watched with a strange look, further back. You refused to acknowledge her, you had heard all you needed to know about your elder sister.

Later, Aegon had japed with a sloshing goblet, “Ah, I was beginning to think you were a bastard dear sister. Maybe a lord will take an interest now.” Ser Criston had cuffed the lad on the ear at that, Aegon squeaking an apology.

The knight consoled you afterward, gloved hand tilting your chin up. His dark orbs bore into your own, his thumb swiping your tears. He stated intently, “Never, never for a second think you are not true-born. My princess, you are just beginning to blossom, you’re Targaryen as they come. I will defend that claim until my death.”

Your heart skipped a beat, tears welling up as you hugged the older man, thanking Ser Criston for his kindness. He was stiff at first, then gloved hands came to rest at your shoulders. He called you blossom after that, the pet name never failed to make your cheeks flush. Alicent took great pleasure that you had kept to their sides instead of wandering off to find whatever to abate the stress of being Royal. She would sniff occasionally, "Do remember what white signals, virtue."

Ser Criston named you the Queen of Love and Beauty at six and ten, a tourney Otto and Alicent schemed for you to get a suitor. Although the suitors were cracked in the helm and knocked on their ass. Criston was rather vicious this tourney, winning the melee and joust. You chose not to dwell on the blood splattered on his shiny armor, for it caused wicked thoughts. He grinned with red lips, offering the crown.

Aegon rolled his eyes, quipping something foul as he guzzled his wine. Viserys had apparently glared at the knight, mouth twisting. You smiled and blushed, feeling like a silly child again. The handsome marcher was consuming you more and more. Eyes that saw you wholly, his little blossom.

Later in the evening, many lords or heirs were at the feast for your sake. They did not seem interested, casting wary looks. You decided it was partly your nerves and shy nature, the glaring knight at arm's length was no benefit. You made one connection that night with a son of the Arbor, a sweet-faced Redwyne lad. His name was Meryn, that was the extent you knew. Grandsire seemed to be pleased with your choice. Criston's dark eyes lingered in your mind. Meryn had dark green eyes and straw-blonde hair. He would be alright if you had to, Meryn was courteous. You swallowed down bile at the thought of living so far away.

You’d become so struck with Cole you had begun to lie awake at night, purposely ignoring the desire that coursed through blue veins. He had said that a true, chaste maiden did not give in to carnal pleasures. Your mother said that self-pleasure was sinful and wicked. You'd read the Seven-Pointed Star, the Stranger would fondly take fornicators down to the seven hells.

You agreed, feeling sinful if your womanhood ever throbbed. Innocence remained a quality of yours, Viserys liked to call you his Septa daughter to Daemon. You’d rather be a Septa than a whore. Aegon had doomed himself already. You hated when he spoke so vulgar at the table, you had to look away in disgust.

Aegon crushed your entire world, in fact. The pair of you had ridden to the Dragonpit to ride Sunfyre and Silverwing. You rode in silence, Ser Arryk and Erryk behind on guard. The stilted awkward air between Aegon and you seemed to thicken as the Dragonpit loomed closer. Your elder brother blurted “Are you still infatuated with that preening peacock Cole?”

You stiffened and stared, aghast, mouth agape.

Aegon’s full lips smirked. He laughed “Oh, you still are. I forget you follow him and mother around the keep like a shadow. You’re six and ten, you don’t want to fuck a lordling? Or are you saving it for Ser Cole?”

“Stop it, he’s kind and a good knight. You should respect our Kingsguard, he keeps mother safe.”

Hot tears began springing at your eyes as Aegon laughed harder, that horrid shrieking giggle. One of the Cargyll’s snorted. Aegon always made you feel so silly and childish. You sniffed angrily “What are you getting at Aegon?”

“Sorry sister, sorry, it’s just- hah! It’s just your white knight’s cloak has been likely been dirtied since I was born. You do know the rumor don’t you?”

Your heart began to patter uncomfortably against your chest. Ser Erryk always carried your medicine— you did not wish to take it as you were trying to fly. Aegon leered with a grin. He spoke in a low murmur, “He hates our dear half-sister so, we know that. Rumor has it Cole sullied his oath as he took her maidenhead. She spurned him later. Then your ‘white knight’ beat Laenor’s fop lover’s face in wrath at her wedding.”

Your legs and hands began to grow numb from sheer panic. You cried, “No, you are lying! Why would you say such dreadful things?” Shakes began, as tears leaked down your red cheeks. The prince noticed your state and sighed, “No one knows if he truly did. 'Tis not strange he became mother’s sworn sword after one night hm?”

Your vision swam. No, no, no— you couldn’t believe that. Ser Erryk rode up next to you, beckoning you to open your mouth. He yanked you onto his horse, chiding Aegon, “Shut your mouth about that, you know how she gets. I have to return all the way to the keep!”

The prince shrugged, offering a weak apology, face a rude smirk.

Ser Erryk sighed, “He’s a prick. Talk to your mother about Ser Criston. Back to the keep we go, just relax.” You felt like your chest had compressed into a tiny box, shaking and panting. It couldn’t be true. You would speak to your mother immediately. The tincture began to soften your muscles, eyes lolling as you slumped onto the Cargyll twin. Erryk murmured, “Can’t wait for this shite show with the marcher.”

You were still in a hazy lull, the movement of the horse and Ser Erryk’s familiar lilt leaving you in a poppy-laden stupor. He’d ridden into the courtyard, carrying your limp frame into the castle, barking at a squire to take his horse. You mumbled, “Mother, need her.”

“I know, princess.”

Ser Criston’s voice made your poppy laden eyes flick upwards. The knight demanded, “What the hell is this? Did you dose her with the entire phial? Where’s Prince Aegon? Give her to me.”

Ser Erryk bit back, “She asked for the Queen, Ser Criston. Not you.”

You nodded softly, Ser Criston’s brows pinching together, his lips thinning in anger. He snapped, “I’ll take her to the Queen, give me the princess. Seems you can’t follow the maester’s directions, Ser Erryk.”

“No. Trust me when I say this Cole, Aegon brought this on. He was telling your ‘blossom’ all about,” the man whispered something to the marcher. Criston’s face paled, a stricken look over his features.

The door opened without further protest, Ser Erryk laying you upon the plush settee, curtly nodding. He exchanged words with the Queen. Criston remained outside the door, dark gaze peering from afar. Your mother’s wide eyes and familiar green dress hovered in your vision. She stroked your hair and sighed, “Dear girl, what did Aegon say?”

Your sluggish hand gripped her own, glazed eyes meeting brown. You whimpered “Tell me he was lying. Just tell me Aegon was lying about him.”

Alicent’s lips pursed, turning to gaze at the lingering Cole. She ordered, “Ser Criston, please shut the door.” Even through the medicinal haze, the man looked downright fearful. The door shut with a soft click. Your mother’s attention was back on you, kissing your forehead.

“About who? Take your time.”

You moaned in anguish, “Ser Criston. He broke his oath to be with her?,” you sobbed, “He lies, he can’t, mother please!”

Alicent’s eyes flicked to the door once more. She bundled your frame into her arms, lifting your limp body up. Her soothing voice murmured, “Ser Criston is a good man. He loves us dearly. He is sworn and would die for us, my dear.”

You wept, “Tell me the truth.”

“He had a moment of weakness. Ser Criston was merely a few years older than I and Rhaenyra. She manipulated his good heart and bewitched him. That is all. He did not break his oath.”

You stared at your mother, unsure if she was lying while the pristine image of Criston darkened. Was it hurt? Jealousy? Childish affection gone wrong? There was nothing to do but softly weep in your mother’s arms before sleep took you. Supper was provided when you awoke, only Alicent caring for you.

She never lied to you before. Your mother cherished you too much to lie.

Right?

You faced Ser Criston again. The ache in your chest throbbed— but you would give him grace. He was devoted and good to you. His worried look made the apprehension die down. The knight grabbed your shoulders, eyes piercing as he frantically spoke, “Blossom, my princess, please. I have been distraught for days. What can I do?”

You stared at him, mind conjuring a response, feeling like a bratty child overreacting. His leather gloves squeezed again to draw your attention. It took everything in your weak heart not to babble and weep. This man was sworn to chastity and the Faith, yet you craved him like nothing else.

“Aegon just shocked me. This is a lot to process. I-I didn’t know anything about that, oh, ordeal.”

He seemed to sag, guilt wracking his handsome features. Ser Criston pulled your small form inward, chin atop your head. He murmured, “It is a stain that shall never be washed. Your mother saved me. I grew stronger from the failure. It pains me more now that you have learned the truth after so long. I should have let you know.”

You nodded against the steel plate of his chest, resigned.

You let him hold you— unsure of your intense feelings. The Red Keep was a web spun of lies. Even Ser Criston was caught in the horrid trap. You would remain to trust him, his affair with Rhaenyra was before you were even a thought. Still, your gut churned with uncertainty.

Criston murmured, "I shall never fail you again, sweet blossom."

You had distanced yourself from Ser Cole, protecting your own heart selfishly. He was upset and had been striving to gain your once devoted affection. It wasn’t hard to avoid him as war came in on Dragonback. They plotted and planned, too busy for Helaena to mourn. Aegon was raging at all times. You remained in your rooms, nervously awaiting Syrax or Caraxes to show on the horizon. Dracarys. Dracarys, the voices sang in your head.

They were always in the Council Chambers.

You’d been in your room, feeling madness creep at the edges of your mind. Shadows in the corners, fire on the horizon. A knight stood guard outside day and night, sometimes your mother would come sup with you. All she could do was tiredly ramble and apologize. You held her softly one night as she cried, how alone and useless she felt. You could empathize with that. At least in your room, you were safe from those fits. Sometimes.

Then your grandfather left. Criston was now Lord Commander and Hand of the King. A small ceremony was held in the throne room, Aegon strutting around like a peacock. You knew he was as scared as the rest of the Keep. Alicent sighed to you, “My darling, stay strong, you must.”

The man you had grown up with, the fancy of your girlhood, looked frightening with his chain of gold hands, lips curled up in pleasure. His eyes flicked toward you, entrancing. The newly appointed hand smiled with pride. You looked down and away, shaking hands clasped together. There was no reason for tears about this. Yet, the titles muddled and twisted your preferred concept of the loyal white knight.

War had truly begun with armies on the move around the realm. Criston, Aegon, and Aemond set off to Lord Staunton at Rook's Rest.

After the incident at Rook’s Rest, Criston returned colder, Aemond with the crown, and Aegon charred half to death. The now powerful marcher was paired with his protege, they could conquer and perhaps win this war. You were frightfully alone again, Alicent moved into Aegon’s chambers. Nothing new you supposed, yet your heart hurt.

About a week after the return, you were summoned to the Hand’s Tower. Criston sat at the desk, war plans drawn up. His hair was shorn, a beard grown in. The soft part of you ached at his bruised and nicked face. You awkwardly curtsied and murmured, “Lord Hand.”

“Don’t call me that, Ser Criston is fine,” he said, a hint of aggravation to his hoarse voice.

“Sorry, Ser Criston,” you apologized. He seemed like a different person sitting where your grandsire once sat. He beckoned you over, closer and closer until you were at the edge of the desk. He looked tired, sad, and beleaguered by his position. You murmured, “You requested me Ser?”

He sighed, leaning back in the supple leather chair. Criston’s eyes were achingly wet as he stated, “Do you still despise me so? All I think about is you, your safety, and how I can keep my blossom alive and well. After Rook's Rest, I began to remember my priorities."

You whimpered softly, the months of being alone and overlooked had taken their toll. You missed him dearly. Taking a few sighs, mouth quivering, you whispered. Whispered only so you may not sob. Your dress was bunched up by your distraught hands. Inwardly, you cursed yourself for being weak.

"I have been so…isolated. I don’t leave my room and all I can do is stare at the window and...and and hope I don’t!”

You clamped your jaw shut as your voice grew higher with emotions. Hot tears ran down your cheeks now— brought on by the outburst. Criston made a soft noise, pleading, “Blossom, come here. To me. You know how I hate to see your tears.”

It embarrassed you how fast you climbed into his lap and wrapped your arms around his shiny armor. The man cooed, cradling your frame and nuzzling your hair. His hands gripped into your curled legs— you didn’t care. It felt so good to be with him.

“There we are, poor princess, why are you crying blossom?”

His dark brows were pinched in concern, gaze quizzical in nature. You refrained from staring at his lips. One of his warm hands pressed into your back, rubbing up and down. You focused on that, tucking your face against the warm crook of his neck.

“Take your time princess, I’ve got you. Too sweet for this dreadful world.”

Ser Criston’s soothing words and hands, his gentle tone could almost lull you to sleep. It felt like an hour had passed, soaking in the moment. You blinked a bit, feeling syrupy sweet in his arms. He asked “Blossom, are you feeling better?” A soft little jerk of your head was the response before you pulled back to look at him.

“I feel better, thank you Ser Criston. I grow fearful,” you frowned at your words, “More fearful than usual.”

He cocked his head, seeming to mull over the words. The man sighed, “I haven’t done a good job of prioritizing your protection. These are arduous times.” Criston thumbed your cheek, sliding down to tilt your chin up. He murmured, “Tell me the truth. I feel a piece of me has returned. You cannot spurn me again, I need you my blossom, more than anything to keep going.”

His agonized eyes and the tiniest little warble at the end of his sentence melted your fears. This was Ser Criston— he’d done right by you, only second to your mother. Even then, he knew you in a way others didn’t. Something behind the mad little princess who cried at feasts. Criston saw qualities none seemed to perceive.

Making eye contact you admitted, “I missed you too. I- I had a hard time coming to terms. I was sickened with envy, picturing that…my sister, having Ser Cole’s heart,” you placed a hand over the white cloak on his shoulder, “I know it was a mistake now. I grew up thinking you were, Gods, the knight out of tales. Gallant and true. It was swept out from under me and I behaved as a child. You're only human.”

Criston’s jaw gritted, frustration crossing his features. He hissed, “If I could take my honor back from that viper I would. But I chose to be fooled, a young idiot. I know what it feels like to be truly loved now. Unconditionally.”

He licked his lips, “Knowing that I hurt you, hurt me. I prayed and prayed. I don’t know if I can be that knight for you, my dear blossom. But I can be the knight that gives his life for you, his heart and soul. You were merely hurt, I can understand why. But the Seven answered my prayers," he beamed, "You’re still here, with me. As it should be.”

Unconditional. He wasn’t wrong. You’d love Criston even if his cloak was stained black. He loved you. Only you. Prayed for you. Your heart swelled, pumping with excitement. At least that's what it seemed he said.

“Oh, Ser Criston, I, I love you.”

His face morphed into a pleasant look, eyes alight with happiness. You moved to straddle him, pressing yourself closer, your cheek pressed to Criston’s dark stubbled one. The knight rumbled, “I love you, innocent love for my little bud, now a blossoming young woman. You’re mine, to cherish and to love. Understand that. Just us.”

He squeezed your waist as you sighed, “Yes, yes Ser Cole, I am yours.”

“My perfect little Princess, the Gods are smiling upon us.”

You nodded along, smiling helplessly, more tears welling as your lips pecked his cheek. Criston turned his head to gently capture your lips, a chaste little peck. You shivered in his embrace, smiling as your noses nuzzled. He was chivalrous was he not?

Soon after you had spoken your feelings for Ser Criston, he wanted you moved into the Hand’s quarters. Said it was safer and you wouldn’t have to stare at the dreaded horizon that brought many a nightmare and fumbling for your tinctures.

It was done quickly, your garments and belongings now intertwined into the man’s quarters. He had the Lord Commander’s room too and pledged to sleep there for your comfort and honor. The knight was sweet and kind, letting you sit upon his lap as he wrote letters, amended decrees, and even kept you there when Aemond arrived to discuss battle.

Your brother looked shocked at your presence, a thin brow arching. He huffed, “Sister, I believe it would be best if you left us to the battle plans.” You nodded, the ingrained behaviors to follow orders hadn’t dissipated. Criston held you tight on his lap, remarking “She’s family. You think your sister to be a turn cloak?”

Aemond grimaced and sat down, his hair swinging as he glared. The crown of the Conqueror laid upon his brow. The crown that belonged to ailing Aegon. Criston poured some wine and handed it to the stiffened Prince Regent, opening the discussion.

You merely sat back and listened, your knight occasionally asking for your opinion. “I don’t know why you would not seek the high ground there,” you offered while pointing to the Westermen’s location. Jason Lannister would be slaughtered. You read up on historical battles now and then.

Aemond’s scoff and Criston’s noise of contemplation shut you up. You knew you were here to please your knight. Make him feel comfortable and less alone. You padded off toward the bed as they talked into the night, ignoring Aemond’s sharp questioning.

A kiss on your lips awoke you, blinking the sleep out of your eyes. The marcher seemed irritated and sleepy, now clad in a white shirt and thin breeches. He sat upon the downy bed to pet your hair, muttering, “Ignore your brother. He thinks he is the king right now, is all. But the hand pulls the strings.”

You shrugged, “He sees me as a distraction I suppose.”

Criston nodded, dark eyes rolling as he gruffed, “You are my motivation, blossom. He will learn to embrace your presence. Now, I have had a long day. I wish to hold you,” his face grew soft, “Is that okay with you dearest? Say no and I shall leave.”

Scooting over you pulled back the warm blankets, Criston crawling in with a sigh. You cuddled into his frame, the marcher flipping you around so he could press the length of his body to your own. He sighed in your ear, “Much better. Soft and sweet. Thank you for trusting me." He placed his chin on your shoulder, humming in contentment, tanned arm wrapped around your stomach.

The voices of the past screamed at you. So be it.

Criston now laid by your side every night, gentle and kind. He'd awaken you with a kiss and that saccharine smile. You fell deeper and deeper in love. His touches grew more frequent, keeping you by his side around the keep. Any snide comment was met with an equally acrid reply.

You'd been invited to sit in at council meets. Your mother seemed surprised, rushing to you, hands clamping down on your arms. She whispered, "What are you doing here? You should not listen to this, it shall give you a fit." You indicated the satchel at your hip and replied, "Ser Criston said I could come along, since I am able of mind and body I should have a say. He has stuck up for a Princess when everyone else has discarded me."

You did not mean to come off as harsh. Ser Criston's affections had bolstered you as of late. The dowager queen's eyebrows raised as her lips turned into a pursed frown. Alicent bit out, "Are you his kept woman now? I raised you better than this." Your mother drew closer to hiss, “Ser Cole loves you. Ser Cole is overstepping his boundaries as the Lord Commander. Lord Hand Criston sees you as his pretty little pet. Do take heed, princess.”

You frowned, chest tight with hurt, childishly scoffing, “Ser Criston cares for me. You’d rather sit and plot than visit your daughter? I’d like to visit Helaena with you, mayhaps Aegon. Don’t lecture me, your grace.”

Aemond called the council, breaking up the heated moment between you and the green queen. You took a seat to the side, watching and listening raptly. Alicent’s eyes flickered between you and Ser Criston, displeasure upon her pursed lips. He eyed her back, furrowing his brows. They had known each other so long the pair could speak without saying a word. Aemond and Lord Lannister prattled on. Worry began to pool in your belly, a shaky hand shifting to the pouch on your waist for comfort.

You could glean the wracked state of the Realm from the terse meeting. Daemon was at Harrenhal and men were gathering. The Hightower host led by a relative and Daeron approached from the south. Cregan Stark’s winter wolves were coming with a cold vengeance and desire to die in glory, grizzled grey beards that they were. You swallowed, mind a bit scattered pulling the pieces together. A crazed Greyjoy was on the loose and the Triarch had been called in. All-out war.

The meeting was adjourned. Aemond would leave soon for Harrenhal. Criston would join him later, much to your fear. Your white knight immediately came to your side, holding your elbow tenderly, “I must have…some words…with her grace. I’ll see you back in the tower?” You nodded, eyes panning toward Aemond getting an earful from your mother. Nerves began to prick— you kissed Ser Cole’s cheek and nodded. He smiled softly, gloved hand caressing your cheek as he murmured, “Sweet girl, relax, it will be fine.”

You may have dropped some of the diluted milk into your wine, hands shaky. You were going mad waiting, waiting, waiting. Mind-spinning rationalizations appeared to ease the rising panic. Your mother had no say anymore, it was Aemond and Criston in charge. If Aegon wasn’t bedridden he likely would not care. Ser Criston would not leave you, he loved you, yes.

The door swung open, clattering against some furniture, startling you upon the settee. Criston was pissed, anyone could see as much as the vetted knight masked his emotions. His eyes were dark, jaw clenched and his teeth audibly ground. He stopped in his tracks, running a hand through shorn hair. You warbled “Criston?”

His furrowed brow and wide eyes turned to you, sighing and stalking forward. The knight dropped to his knees, hands cradling your cheeks. Criston fumed, urgency to his tone, "You’re mine. You shall do as you please. I shall do as I please. I have the right, I'll leave my position as Kingsguard if the oaths are displeasing, you understand sweet girl? I need you to understand you’re my Princess.”

You held his gauntlets to nod, eyes wide upon his visage.

“Say it for me. Say it so I know it to be true. Now.”

Your eyes glossed over with tears. He was in quite the mood. Criston's dark eyes were wet, and desperation laced his roughed voice. Your hands curled around that cold chain of hands, lips frantically moving, “I am yours. Your princess. Nothing shall change that. I swear it on the Seven. I swear it on my heart.”

“I godsdamn love you blossom,” he growled, taking your lips roughly. Criston pressed himself into you, dominating the kiss. His hands moved down to your rear, jerking your hips flush to his own. You cried out, the dark-haired man swallowing the noise, tongue lapping against yours. His lips were insistent, and needy, leaving you breathless. You'd never felt Ser Criston so rough with you, it was intoxicating.

Shivering at his gruff words, you could not help from sliding your arms around his plated neck to moan. Criston pulled back, murmuring, “No one shall keep you from me, I’ll fucking kill them. I may do as I please now.” His lips trailed down your cheek, jaw, to your neck. All you could do was whine as he sucked and nipped little marks, big hands massaging the flesh of your ass. He nosed further down to your décolletage; greedy hands pausing at the neckline.

Lust-blown eyes met your own. You nodded, panting, “Please. Please. Take me as you wish.” His eyes scrunched shut, mouth swollen and wet as those covetous hands of his jerked your dress down, carelessly tearing the silky fabric. You yelped, never having been exposed like this, nerves sparking like wildfire. Criston’s lashes fluttered as he groaned throatily.

“Oh- fucking seven hells, precious girl,” he almost whined, nuzzling into your breasts. You seized up, unused to the carnal touches. Criston yanked off his black gloves to grab handfuls of the tender flesh, still on his knees for you. That seemed to abate the ever-looming presence of your neuroticism. He was submitting, lavishing lush kisses on your fiery skin.

You tightened your legs around his armored waist and cried out when calloused thumbs began to tenderly circle around your budded nipples. He watched your face, lips curled and eyes ever hungry. Criston murmured, “Sweetling, so responsive. Never had your pretty teats touched. Good, good, only me.”

You nodded in haphazard jerks, Criston pulling at one nipple and playing around with your other breast, big hand massaging. His kissing grew closer to the darker skin, lips closing around the bud. You mewled and squirmed, head thrown back to moan. He hummed around your nipple, flicking his tongue across the peak. Criston grew rougher, nipping before pulling off with a lurid pop.

The knight growled, moving onto your other breast. A shiver wracked your frame, your swollen peaks exposed to the chilly air felt like a white-hot line of arousal bolting down between your legs— throbbing and uncomfortably slick. You babbled, “Ser, Criston, Criston, wha-what?”

He chucked darkly, suckling a mark on your sternum. Criston hummed “You like that? Little princess needy for her knight?”

“Love, oh, love it, thank you,” you simpered.

He rasped, nose nuzzling into yours, “Of course…I take care of my blossom don’t I? Sweeter than sin.” His hands placed themselves atop your smaller ones, brown eyes begging. Criston breathed "Blossom- wanna feel you, help me out of this dreadful cage?" Once again mute- you began to unbuckle straps and buttons, exposing more and more skin.

"So good to me. Divine, ah, don't know how I was blessed with an angel."

You helped him out of the chest plate, leaving Criston to undo his white and gray gambeson. You were carefully putting the pieces on his armor stand, the man humming your name. Looking back, Criston smiled softly, his scarred and tanned torso exposed. He beckoned you over, cocking his head in surprise when you dropped to your knees.

“What are you doing, your grace?” Criston's lips curled up in amusement, dark orbs searching your serious expression.

Holding those inky eyes, you helped his boots and thick socks off. Criston threw his padded tunic to the side, cheeks growing flushed. He softly murmured, “Answer me, a Princess should not be on her knees like this.” His hand cupped your cheek, a smirk mirroring your own. You quipped, “Is it bad to be on my knees for you? I am merely serving an important man to the realm.”

You watched his face darken, eyes catching a glint to them. He swallowed, hand on your face tightening. Criston rasped “Is that it? Just merely service? Dirtying your knees like a woman of the night. Does my blossom want to be bad? Behave wanton and licentious so? Forget your maiden's day vow, hm?"

His words made your face grow warm. It was as if he was speaking your fantasies aloud. For once to not be the strange princess— nervous, wrong shade of hair, and overtly pious. No, you wanted to let go. No more being held back by others and your own swirling fears. Ser Cole soothed those aches. You wanted the keep to whisper more about how the littlest one was openly Ser Cole’s pretty blossom, driven from her mother’s teat at last.

“I- I want to make you feel good,” you murmured with blotchy cheeks. It was not necessarily a lie, but if you began to ramble about the lustful feelings you feared you may not stop or disgust the man. That simply couldn’t happen. Not after how far you have come with him.

“You lie to me blossom,” he teased, “I know exactly what you want. What you crave. To think the old king thought you to be a Septa. C’mere then, no more games”

You watched him unlace his light breeches, exposing his dark curls and full prick. A moan slipped from your lips at the sight, lust pounding your body in waves. The knight's cock was heavy and flush, the dark tip weeping. You squeezed your thighs in excitement, licking your lips. Criston’s tan hand jerked at the taught flesh, rumbling, “Needy little blossom.” It was almost funny how he stated it like a simple fact, yet you were on the edge of combustion.

“Y-yes! Please, want it so, want to be your bad girl, the bad princess…please,” you grew shy again after blurting out, “I- in m-my mouth Ser.”

Criston’s expression changed from playful to predatory, dark eyes narrowing a bit. He rasped, “Mhm, filthy little thing. I shouldn’t encourage this behavior. Especially as your protector.” As you shuffled forward to grab the thick flesh he stopped your hand, his amusement facing heady desire. You sulked, “Wanna learn so I can please you Ser.”

Ser Cole seemed content, enough to lean back on one arm, eyes roving to your tits and wide eyes. His other hand stroked himself one more time before shoving two fingers to your lips. You opened dutifully for the intrusion, eyes rolling back in bliss.

Criston’s princess was a dream, a godsdamn dream. He pressed the pads of his fingers down on her tongue, watching her shiver and whine. He soothed, “Settle now, I’ll teach you how. But I need my sweet girl to settle down. Focus on my fingers. Nothing else.” She nodded, wet lashes upon her cheeks now. Her hands were neatly placed in her lap.

He took the still moment to reflect, idly rubbing his cock. She was well trained. Helaena was the same in her mannerisms unless she grew distracted. Before Criston even remotely began to have romantic feelings, his blossom had always held him ensnared. She was horribly timid and clutched to Alicent’s skirts, then began to seek him for comfort. The white knight earned her trust with a trinket he bought in town. A small Yitish jade dragon— to place upon her bedside table. She still had it there, pristine and well-kept.

Criston was not sure when his protective nature slid into desire. It began with jealousy, perhaps around her name-day celebration and resulting tourney. Alicent and Otto were looking for a mate. Something twisted deep within his chest. Criston did not want the sweet thing to leave the castle. Get wedded and bedded by some callous lord or idiot heir.

Her smile after he routed the competition brought great happiness to his heart. That twisted thing in his chest swelled with a possessive pride that soared past his normal feelings for Alicent's children. He hated the feast. The princess was shyly speaking to a young Redwyne lad. The Arbor was too far away for his liking. Yet nothing panned out. He couldn't beat a boy for being kind.

Criston strapped his back bloody and raw for a fortnight as penitance. He could not imagine being a snake slithering around waiting for her. He already knew she held affection for him. Thus prayer would work, and he would be a good, pious protector. Alicent made a small comment and he withdrew from being too close. Those woes seemed to be gone by the time she turned eight and ten— leading to now.

The sweet, blossomed woman was dozing around his fingers now. Criston purred, "Such a good princess, just likes to be bad. That's okay, you deserve it, so kind for helping me out." She softly whimpered and drooled as he pressed upon her tongue.

"Gorgeous, being good for me."

She whined in response, pretty lashes fluttering. Criston almost lost her affection once. That dreadful day with Aegon and Ser Arryk telling him to stand down. He could have wrung his neck. But fear overcame the anger. The knight knew she mustn't gain access to that horrid secret. Criston prayed and prayed and prayed, mutilated, and prayed that Alicent would keep the truth hidden. Something in the uncomfortable hairshirt worked, his blossom forgave him, and the Gods had granted him a boon. Certainly, she was meant to be his then?

Criston blinked out of his reverie, asking gently "Blossom, are you with me?"

She looked like she was under her poppy tinctures. He smiled a bit, the princess blissed out from Criston alone. Eventually, she nodded, trying to speak around his digits. He sighed, "I think I've changed my mind, why don't you come sit in my lap? Must be chilly down there."

The blossom whined when Criston pulled his fingers out, mumbling, "Yes Ser, yes, whatever you need." She clambered onto foal-like legs, Criston guiding her to the plush leather chair. The man easily pulled her frame atop him. He hissed lowly as her ass pressed against his aching cock. Fighting the feeling, he nuzzled into reddish waves, lips quirked up. The knight whispered "You've always been such a pious one. Did you ever touch yourself?"

She shook her head slowly, body melting into Criston's. Her hands wrapped around his bigger wrists. The princess whimpered, "No, never, I would not dare. It is sinful," she paused for a long time, "Right?" Cole chuckled, one hand of his rubbing soothing circles onto her side. He teased "We're together now, I prayed for it, the Seven smile upon us. How can it be sinful if you're touching yourself for me? The Seven-Pointed Star says you may indulge with a paired soul."

He grabbed her chin to emphasize his point, her innocent eyes making his cock hurt "I would say we are paired souls. Do you agree?"

"You know it to be true, you always have," she stated.

"Good. I'll touch you instead, so you may remember this and feel better when I am away."

He bunched her woolen dress, exposing her plush thighs and untainted maidenhead. Criston inhaled sharply, fingers digging into the wrinkled cloth. He could see her slick and aroused, flesh darkened with need. The man gritted his jaw in restraint, he would treat the sweet girl like the delicate blossom she was. Her eyes were still upon him, dark and wet, skin flushed. Ser Cole could feel the tacky way his cock was plastering itself to her ass with his prick leaking the way it was.

"Does it please you?" came her tiny warble.

Criston groaned, "Yes, yes, more than anything yes...Hold your dress up now. I...need to take care of you sweet blossom. My needs can wait." She sniffled and clung to her raised layers of dress, head shyly tucked away as she panted. The Hand gripped the giving flesh of her thigh, coaxing her to open wider with a gentle coo. The redhead shivered in response, breasts bouncing as her breath hitched.

"Have you been this wet for me before?"

"Mhmmm," she whined, hiding her embarrassed look.

"Need you to watch blossom, or you won't know how," he stated. He could feel her gaze watch as Criston's spit-slick fingers cautiously slid across her opening. She mewled in response, gasping, "Ser!" He hushed and laid tiny lush kisses, easing her heightening fears. "Slow and gentle, breathe for your knight," came his rasp.

"Ser, Cris- oh heavens, oh what is that? S-so good!"

He laughed, "A special place the mother gave you, the maiden bestowed for naughty princesses like you to rut on and make a mess. You're making quite a mess, all wet and needy." She moved back against his swollen prick, Criston's eyes fluttering. His princess babbled, "'S for you, m'not, not, naugh-ty." He assured her she wasn't, now narrating his way down to her entrance.

"Your sweet pearl is fun to play with, but most green boys don't know how to work a woman's body. I'll let you take your own pleasure too."

The tips of his fingers slid into her wet warmth, tight and silky smooth. They both gasped into the room's silence, Criston groaning in contentment. He slid further in, minding her reactions. Maiden above she was tight. She planted her feet on the leather chair, her dress falling back. Criston was taken aback as she breathed, "Want to touch you, not this silly dress."

"Seven Hells, you'll send me to an early grave..."

Her hands held onto his forearms as Criston began to delve into her cunt, easing her in with rhythmic slides. She was growing restless, cute tits bouncing with every heave of breath. He would surprise her with the sweet spot. The marcher curled his fingers upwards, dragging against the soft ridged area.

He smirked as her chest hitched once more, a small confused noise leaving petal lips. Criston playfully crooked his fingers back and forth as watched her whine and squirm raptly. The man whispered against her ear, “Feel the heel of my palm? Go on, use your hips.”

Criston’s smirk broke into a smile as she rode his hand and fingers, shyly at first. The princess’ hips twitched tentatively, her slick cunt moving against Criston with ease. He nuzzled her neck, pressing more little kisses as she sped up, fingers digging into his arms. The knight found himself mumbling between kisses, “Good…so good..thassit’.”

His blossom was rutting hard now, huffing between her broken noises. Cole could feel her tighten around him, even one of her pretty tits under his hand was budded and tight. His dark gaze noticed her thighs were quivering as she grew frantic with pleasure, crying Criston’s name. It made his heart swell. Yet the deep-seated craving wasn't met by the hand of the king.

“Mine. Say you're mine. Before you come. Now.”

Her hips stuttered and ground down hard, the princess throwing her head back onto Criston's shoulder as she cried, "I am yours, only yours, forever yours Ser Cole! Hnghhh- oh my gods! Please!" She looked up toward him, begging softly, riding his hand, her ass rubbing Criston's prick to near completion. He demanded her release, gasping as the innocent m thing squealed and gushed all over his hand, grabbing onto him for dear life.

She sobbed in pleasure, sending a gut punch to Criston's own throbbing balls. He gripped down on her with his free hands, squeezing her soft hips as he rutted with heavy grunts, blinking and gasping for breath as he emptied all over her clothed backside. Criston moaned her name, pressing his sweating forehead to her shoulder, inhaling their mixed scent. He rasped, "Lovely blossom, just lovely, I'm so proud of you my love."

She stared with swollen eyes, the prettiest smile upon her lips as she said, "I love you Criston."

He would take that memory to battle with him. Else the man feared he'd pick her up and abscond. He was too deep, had too many scores to settle, dying with a name worth living for. Yet. Yet, she was always there, waiting for him. Ser Criston shut his ever-spinning mind down for the evening.

Criston was leaving for the Riverlands in the morn. He'd kept you by his side for the last week or so. It did not matter where— the throne room, the barracks, his tower, even the council again. People stared and remained silent. Alicent had refused to speak to either of you and Aemond looked at you like a common whore. It did not matter when you had your love.

Ser Cole was insatiable in the bedroom since he brought you to a peak with his fingers. He'd taught you how to suck him, rub him, how to get off on his thighs or tight stomach. Every night you'd lain in a mess of sweat, tears, and come. Nothing was finer than taking a sensual bath afterward, soaping each other up between slow kisses. You were in love, truly, but at such an awful time. You prayed the gods would give him back to you. You feared what would come of you when he left. The thought of death was too much.

Your white knight was in a forlorn mood tonight, holding you tightly. You rubbed his thigh and consoled Criston, "I have a dragon you know. I shall be fine." He grimaced and rolled over to face you, handsome face twisted with emotions. The marcher asked, "I hope you think me to be good and kind even after this all. Don't let me die in vain."

"Don't talk like that," you chastised, frowning.

He grumbled further, sinking into his foul mindset, barbs upon his tongue. A tense argument broke out between you two. Criston ended it by shoving himself atop you and bursting into tears. He gritted, "I am, fucking hell, reconsidering everything now. I must go on. I must face my reality, we both should. But it...hurts! It fucking hurts! You have to grow up now! I've left you in your pretty gilded cage for too long!"

You blinked in shock, his tears hitting your face. Criston seemed to deflate, apologizing and weeping, "M'just scared, I can't leave you alone, I can't. You're all I need. Oh gods forgive me." This was the side of the marcher you knew few had seen. Vulnerable, real, human. Criston huffed into your neck, his hands digging into your waist.

“You’re not wrong-“

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Whether you did or not, ‘tis true Criston. We must face our fates whether that be now or later. I must prepare my own dragon to defend the city. You must go lead our troops. I can’t sit and weep the rest of my life.”

He gazed with wet eyes, red rimmed and dark lashes clumped. You caressed your knight’s cheek, murmuring, “I want you to have me before you leave. The gods never promise anything.”

A soft noise fell from his swollen lips, Criston readjusting himself between your lax thighs. You thought idly about giving him your tincture with the way the man was shaking. He rasped, “They don’t, not the Stranger. I want to make this…good.” Criston’s lips trembled as he pressed them tenderly to your own, balancing himself on an elbow. You wrapped your arms around his wide shoulders, opening up.

The kiss spoke of the utter fear in the air. Long drags of tongue and sucking of lips, no urgency in the sacred moment. You arched into him, suckling gently on the tip of Criston’s hot tongue. He groaned, hips twitching against yours as he tilted his face some, lips dancing yet insistent. You grabbed some of his dark hair, crying out when he nipped your lip. The man ate up your noises, hands greedily roving your body.

“I love you,” he spoke, voice wobbly.

His lips moved down your jaw and neck, sucking at that sensitive place below your ear.

Criston’s cock had grown flush and heavy between your legs, twitching with need. Your own desire began to drip with slick and pounded with blood flow. You rocked against him with a whine, Criston’s eyes flicked to you with a sly smile as he ground back. You threw your head back in pleasure as he massaged and lapped at your tits, sucking at your tits with desperate noises.

Once again you yanked at his hair and Criston moaned, pausing to take your lips again. He murmured, urgency to his voice, “I’m going to stretch you out blossom, as best as I can, wan’ you to feel good. Feel so good.” The urge to cry bubbled up but you nodded along anyways, spreading your legs like the good princess. His good princess.

Criston hitched one of your thighs up around his waist, the other he held out. The man inhaled at your tender mound, eyes black as the coal on his sigil. You shivered involuntarily at the feeling of those sculpted lips sealing around your pearl, sucking ever so softly. One of your hands slapped down on the bed as you whimpered, thighs tightening. His calloused fingers swiped at your slick cunt, diving in two off the get.

It wasn’t painful— you’d gotten quite used to two fingers from your lover. But he pumped a couple of times before stretching his fingers outwards. That was a new feeling, a bothered whine elicited from the sensation. Criston flicked his tongue a couple of times and that was forgotten as hot licks of pleasure bundled up in your belly.

His ring finger slid in, a new feeling, a bit of a pinch. Criston rambled, “Breathe love, breathe, doing so good for me. The most obedient princess, wanton for her night. I wish you could see how much of a mess you’re already making.” He smiled at your keen of arousal and embarrassment, three fingers stretching your tight walls. He dove back down to flick, suck, lick at your pearl— relentlessly so.

Your hand not trying to rip the bed gripped his short hair, thighs clamping down now. He was abusing your other gifted place, curling his fingers as if to bring your release forward. Wet noises of his hungry mouth and ravenous fingers filled the room. He grunted, hips jerking to a standstill when you whimpered, “So close, closeclose, I love you, oh stars Criston.”

He didn’t cease his movements as you felt goosebumps arise across your hot skin, sweat beginning to bead up as pleasure rose and rose. Your lower stomach was a tight cord, ready to come undone, winding tighter and tighter. All you could do was mewl and squirm, enslaved to his ministrations. You gaped, breath going staccato, whining through your nose.

The coil snapped.

You fell apart in a flurry of shaking limbs, mouth wide open yet not a peep coming out. It was intense and fiery, the flames of carnal delights searing you. Criston moaned softly, “Ah- gorgeous blossom, made a mess all over.” He licked his swollen lips and wet chin, cock beaded and bobbing between trim thighs. You watched in a haze, feelings the subtle burn from his beard brushing your delicate skin. It felt delightful to you— the dull throb.

“Want you, please, want your,” you paused, “Want us to be truly together.”

Criston nodded, hand on his prick, precariously sliding atop your limp form. He slicked up the head of his already weeping member with your own essence, eyes rolling back at the sensation. Criston nuzzled against your face, promising to make you feel good. He seemed to grow more emotional, taking his time with sliding the blunt head around your entrance.

Carefully holding wide shoulders you tried to relax your nervous body, going limp when his cock breached your tight cunt. Criston shivered, pushing forward a bit more, gasping out. “Princess, are you okay? Hm?” Worried brown eyes flitted around as he met your eyes. You nodded in a slow jerk, it was uncomfortable but more foreign than anything. The man pushed in further, your inner walls stretching to accommodate his thick cock.

There it was, a pinch inside. Your chest went a little tight, nails digging into his shoulders. Criston’s mouth opened but you surged forward to kiss him, thighs and heels urging the man on. You’d never wanted anything else but this, right now. He moaned deep and long, holding himself from going too far. Inch by inch he settled, the pair of you panting into eachother’s mouth. A pregnant pause settled over your connected forms, his eyes upon yours. Brown and plum.

You didn’t have to say it again— it was felt.

Criston gingerly pulled out on a soft whine, pushing himself back into your cunt. Then again. Over and over until he built up a pace, mouth hanging open as he groaned helplessly. The friction was delicious, the pain blending away to fall into deep pleasure. Your nails clawed at his back some, keening your lovers name as he began to fuck you in earnest.

You felt so fucking full and satisfied, Criston’s gorgeous moans urging you to fuck back onto his fat prick. Useless babbles left your lips, “Full, oh, oh you feel s’good.” Criston whined wetly against your neck, feverishly kissing and sucking as he grabbed your hips to get a better angle. His beard rubbed your neck and collarbones raw— another reminder of his love. The marcher’s chest heaved as his hips and balls hit your skin, leaving nothing back as he gave in.

“Godsdammit, hah, sweet blossom, taking your knight so well. Made for me, swear- swear it.”

“All for you.”

He bit down on your neck, thrusting at a breakneck pace. The dark haired knight couldn’t quit from rambling or moaning, eyes scrunched shut as your tight pussy milked him. You squirmed under his heavier body, Criston’s chest hair rubbing against the delicate skin of your breasts, your nipples aching from the friction. Your nails drew deeper scores into his back. Tears pricked at your eyes.

Once again you were at the precipice.

Why did this feel like the last?

Criston whined as his hips stuttered, cock twitching deep inside. His tactful thrusts were mismatched and sloppy, the firmness of his voice chipped away to quavering emotional whimpering. You tightened further, your cunt spasming in waves as you felt the familiar throes burn deep inside. So good it hurt. The pair of you came undone together, sounding like a pair of young lovers squealing and crying. Thick ropes of his cum painted your insides, another shiver crossing your frame.

Would it be so bad if his seed took?

Criston fell down to his side, cock slipping out in a mess of spend and blood. He grabbed onto you tightly, tears slipping down your cheek. Your own tears mingled with his, you absently petting dark hair. He laughed blithely, “I shall bear your wounds proudly, hmph.” You pointed out your neck, agreeing to do the same in case you were needed.

“I’ll pray for you my love.”

“And I you.”

Many winters and summers later, barflies would say you could catch glimpses of a ragged white knight asking where his blossom was, down on some road south of the Gods Eye. The ghost would never know she perished in dragonflame, best that he didn’t, if anyone even knew what the apparition was talking about.

#ser criston cole x reader #ser criston cole #criston cole x reader #kingmaker era #heed the tags #targaryen!reader #hotd smut #hotd fanfiction

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feltit-writeit · 1 day

Text

The Prodigy Son

Art Donaldson x Fem!reader

Something about all the stress Art had been under all of his early teenage years and right now made him vulnerable. He had always been, the only difference is that he had you now.

Warnings: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, sad! Art, panic attack, talk of death

Nothing ever made you more worried than the text you had just received from your boyfriend.

Paint :) -> I need you. I'm in the lockers, please hurry...

You took your school bag off the floor quickly and hurried to meet him. Art had never texted you like this. Without a nickname or even a silly exclamation point that showed you he was always happy. Not in this one though. There was an absence of both. When you reached the men's locker room, it was silent. You dared a glance in and saw that the place was void of any other men. "Art? Baby?" You called out to locale your boyfriend.

Sobs. There was only sobs to be heard.

You walked to the sound and saw your boyfriend on a bench in his underwear. His head was held up by his arms propped up on his knees. His entire body shook and his breathing was uneven; dangerously so. You got closer to him and made your presence known by getting on your knees in front of his eyes. "Baby. Breath. Come on, breath for me." He then looked at you for the first time. But his breathing hadn't changed. He was sobbing like it was never going to end. In all honesty, you were started to get scared. "Art, please follow my breathing pattern." You took a deep breath in, telling him to do the same, and followed by breathing out. You repeated the process six times until his breathing had evened out. That is when he said his first words to you: "Can you hold me. Please, Y/n/n?" You didn't hesistate to take him in your arms and wait for him to come back to reality totaly.

It took about ten minutes for your boyfriend to calm down completely and stop sobbing. Your soothing movements on his back had stopped and you pulled away to see his face better. His soft features were marked by tear streaks and you frowned at that. What had made him so upset? It wasn't his first panic attack. You knew that because he had shared that with you during one of your late night talks. But you had never been there during one. He had not had one since you two got together seven months ago.

You helped him get dressed by handing him his Stanford shorts and polo shirt. He kissed your lips quickly a few times and let a few more tears out. Art was a mess and you didn't know why... "Art?" You asked while he was pulling back from a kiss after having put the final item of clothing on his body. "Yeah?" You took his hand and made him sit with you on the bench. "I think we should talk about this. Right? I'm sorry if it's too forward, but it's worrying me and-" he cut you by putting his hand on yours that was on the bench between your two bodies. "I want to talk about it. If you want to ear it, of course?" You nodded silently and held his hand while he started explaining.

"I love tennis. I really, really do. But sometimes I'm wondering if I have what it takes." He admitted while looking down at his lap. You rubbed his thumb reassuringly. "Of course you do, baby. I'm no expert, but Tashi told me so. Your coach seems to think so too... What happened that made you think that?" You tried to meet his gaze but he just went deeper into his head. "Hey. Stay with me..." You took the side of his face in your palm and lightly brushed it with your thumb. "My father called..." He said and tears came again. "What did he say?" You wanted to know what had put him in this state. "My grandma's dead, baby. She died last night of a stroke." He burst out in tears againa nd you went forward and held him.

You knew how close Art had been to his grandma. She was her biggest supporter, she had always been. "I shouldn't have waited to go pro. She never got to see me pro, Y/n/n." He blurted out through sobs. You held him closer than ever and sighed. "I know baby, but she'll see you from up there." You whispered. "I think and know she was proud of you right now, Art. No matter where you go after this, she would've been your biggest fan. That I am sure of. Don't put pressure on yourself over her. From the little I do know of your beautiful grandma, I know she would be sad about it." He pulled back a little and looked at you intently. "You think?" He asks more unsure than you had ever heard him. You nod your head and wiped his tears away. "When's the funeral?" "In two days." He answered and a comfortable silence fell over you two while you held for the third time in the pas hour.

A little while after, Art got up after kissing you and took his bags with him. He led you two to the exit of the lockers and you walked him to his dorm. "Y/n?" You turned your face to look at him while holding his hand. "Would you come with me? To the funeral, I mean." He waited for an answer and you smiled at him softly. "Of course, whatever you want, Art." He lifted your entertwined hands and kissed your knuckles. "Thank you for being there for me. I love you." You smiled even brighter. "I'll be here for you no matter what, baby. I love you more." You said to him as you guys continued your way to his dorm. You had spent the night at his place and you watched his comfort film while cuddling up and organizing your trip to his hometown.

At the funeral, everybody was happy that Art had found a girl as loving and supporting as you. When he walked to the open casket, you held his hand and comforted him to his needs. No one had ever done such a beautiful and meaningful thing for him. For him, you were it. You were the person he wanted to be fierce and also vulnerable with.

It was not even a full year later that he asked for your hand.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #art x you #art x reader #art donaldson x you #challengers movie #challengers x you #challengers x reader #challengers

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dixons-sunshine · 16 hours

Note

Hiii! First of all i love love love your writing i get so excited every time i see you’ve posted ❤️ i was wondering if i could request a daryl x fem!reader where they’re just chilling out watching a silly cartoon and he’s finally relaxing and happy to be with his girl, maybe it could be young daryl it’s up to you. Thank you for producing such good work for us all to read!!! 🫶

Selfish | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine.*

Summary: When you woke up and walked into the kitchen, you didn't expect to find your mom sitting there with a man you didn't know. And you certainly didn't expect the man to go off on your boyfriend when you didn't even know who he was.

Genre: Fluff, teeny bit of angst.

Era: Pre outbreak.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: Swearing, suggestive themes.

Word count: 2.7k.

A/n: I hope you don't mind, but I already had an idea for my next installment to this universe, and thought this idea would work well with an idea I already had. To be honest, this isn't my best work and I feel like the plot is all over the place, but I hope you like this nonetheless!

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The moon was shining brightly in the night sky, surrounded by the twinkling of millions of beautiful stars. Crickets were chirping outside in the grassy areas and owls were hooting from their spots in the trees. All the inhabitants of the trailer park were in their homes, tucked in and ready for a good night's rest.

Everyone except you and Daryl.

“M'tellin' ya, this cartoon ain't all tha'. S's'posed to be 'bout a talkin' dog helpin' reveal the culprits tha' ain't actual ghosts, yet him and tha' green shirt guy still believe in ghosts. Even after all the mysteries they solved, they still believe in 'em. S'fuckin' ridiculous.”

You rolled your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest and letting out a huff, albeit a playful one. “So you're telling me, real or not, that if a guy who looked like a ghost was threatening to kill you, you wouldn't run?”

“Nah, I'd run fer the fuckin' hills, I ain't denyin' tha',” Daryl stated, lazily picking at the dead skin on his thumb. “But c'mon, these guys are s'posed to be professionals. They unveil criminals tha' dress up as monsters fer a livin'. Ya can't be a fuckin' pussy durin' somethin' tha's yer job.”

“Okay, then, smartass,” you replied playfully, lightly shoving his shoulder. You giggled when Daryl wrapped his arm around you and pulled you tightly against his side, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “How about we watch that roadrunner cartoon you like?”

Daryl's eyes lit up. “Yer serious?” he asked, excitement lacing his tone.

You nodded and nuzzled your head into his chest, flicking through the channels with the remote until you found the aforementioned cartoon. Daryl pressed a kiss to the top of your head, before wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on top of your head. The two of you sat there, cuddled up under the blankets, simply enjoying the serene moment.

Daryl couldn't believe how lucky he got with you. After nearly a year together, the two of you were still going strong. The so-called "honeymoon phase" that people said wore off after a few months into the relationship didn't falter between the two of you. What you and Daryl shared ran much deeper than just a phase. The two of you worked hard at your relationship, making compromises and being open with one another. Daryl wasn't the most open person, but for you, he tried. Likewise, there were things you didn't normally do that you did for Daryl—you weren't the most keen person on catching fish, but you did it for him, just because he liked it. Your love for one another ran deep, so it was unlikely for the happy, giddy feeling to wear off. That spark between the two of you would never burn out.

Your laugh suddenly echoed through the trailer, soon followed by Daryl's own chuckles at a particularly funny scene in the cartoon. Daryl looked down at you in awe, marveling at how beautiful you looked. Your eyes sparkled in the light that the television emitted and your smile was more radiant than anything he's ever seen before.

Yeah, Daryl Dixon knew he was the luckiest guy on the planet.

Before he could fully register what he was doing, Daryl cupped your cheek and turned your head to him, pressing his lips against yours in a firm, passionate kiss. You were surprised at first but ultimately sunk into the feeling of his lips on yours. The kiss soon escalated from loving and sensual to heated and lustful. Daryl picked you up and helped you onto his lap, quietly groaning when you lightly grinded your hips against his, putting a pleasurable amount of pressure against his growing erection.

You pulled away slightly, resting your forehead against his. “Do you want to take this to my room?” you asked in a whisper.

You giggled when he stood up while holding you firmly against him, not saying anything. You wrapped your legs around him, and he walked the short distance to your room, kicking the door shut behind him when he reached it.

The cartoon playing on the television was forgotten of for the rest of the night.

➳༻❀✿❀༺➳

Soft, feathery light kisses all over his face, shoulder blade and arm was what Daryl Dixon awoke to the next morning. Blinking away the last remnants of sleep from his mind, he turned over in the bed and locked eyes with you. You looked like a goddess to him at that moment, the sun gleaming through the window giving you a golden-like aura. You were wearing your shorts from the prior night, but you were wearing his shirt instead of your own. However, he didn't complain.

“Good morning, handsome,” you greeted him, giving him a cheerful smile.

Daryl gave you a lopsided smile in return, adjusting his head on the pillow. “Would be a better mornin' if I got a kiss,” he spoke in his raspy morning voice, sending shivers down your spine at the sound.

Complying with his not-so-subtle request, you leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to his lips. You pulled away after a few seconds, bringing your hand up to brush through his hair.

“I'm gonna make us some breakfast. Throw on a pair of pants and come meet me, okay?” you told him, your hand lingering on his cheek for a moment before withdrawing.

Daryl nodded as he watched you stand up, adjusting the sheets around him as he became painfully aware that he was as naked as the day he was born under them. “Alrigh',” he started, his eyes slowly trailing over your form, appreciating the way you looked in his shirt. “Ya look good, sunshine.”

“Thank you,” you replied, sending him a smile, before finally making your way out of your room.

You closed the door behind you and made your way to the kitchen, but stopped in your tracks when you saw your mom sitting at the table with a man you've never seen before in your life. The two were engaged in a heated argument, not even noticing your presence.

“For the love of god, Henry! You can't just come here and demand to see her after seventeen years of nothing! We've been doing just fine without you or your money, so you can leave, just like you did all those fucking years ago!”

“She's my daughter too, Cecilia! I have every right to see her.”

“Mom?” you questioned confusedly, finally making your presence known.

Your mom turned her head to you, her eyes widening in horror. However, before she could say anything, the man called Henry stood up, sending you a strained smile.

“Princess?” he questioned you, taking a step towards you.

You took a step back, unexpectedly making contact with someone behind you. You stumbled but a familiar pair of arms encircled you, steadying you. You turned your head and locked eyes with your boyfriend's beautiful blue ones.

“Wha's goin' on?” he asked you, slightly standing behind you to hide his bare upper body from your mom's and the unknown man's view. He was suddenly painfully aware that his scars were on display to a person who he did not know, and that made him want to shrink into himself and disappear.

Instantly picking up on what he was feeling, you moved to stand in front of him. You eyed the man standing in front of you warily, sending questioning glances to your mom.

“Mom? What's going on?” you asked her, feeling extremely uncomfortable under the man's intense stare. It wasn't uncommon for your mom to see you and Daryl walking out of your room in the morning—she was well aware of why he stayed over most of the time—but it certainly was the first time that she had an unknown man with her in the morning.

“Who's this?” the man asked, a slight bit of anger lacing his tone. “What the fuck are you doing sniffing around my daughter, boy?”

“What?!” you exclaimed in surprise, your eyes widening. “What the actual fuck are you talking about?”

“Sweetheart, please calm down. I can expl—”

“Shut up!” the man cut her off, turning towards you. “I come over to meet my daughter and this is what I walk in on? A fucking orgy? You couldn't even find someone better than some redneck?”

Daryl visibly stiffened. He ducked his head to avoid the man's harsh glare, uncomfortable with the way he dissected him with his eyes. The man had taken one look at Daryl and decided that his worth was nonexistent.

“Leave him out of this,” you warned him, snapping out of your confusion. Nobody had the right to target Daryl, especially not some man who, if he was your father, ran away seventeen years ago. “You don't get a say in who I date or not. And if you really are my father, what the hell makes you think that you can come in here after seventeen years and expect me to welcome you with open arms? What makes you think that you get to come into our home and play the man of the house? I don't know who you are, and after the last few minutes with your behaviour, I have no interest in getting to know you. You can go to hell.”

“Henry,” your mom jumped in, lightly shoving him back. “Get the fuck out of here before I call the cops.”

The man glared at you and your mom, before shifting his attention to Daryl again. “Well,” he started, scoffing and turning around to leave. “Like mother, like daughter. Seems like trying to get knocked up in high school is a hereditary gene.” He paused before turning back to you. “If you're smart, you can come find me at that motel near the bar. I'll be staying there.”

“Get the fuck out!” your mom yelled angrily, pushing him out.

Shutting the door once the bitter man was gone, your mom turned to you and Daryl. She looked at you sheepishly, a deep frown on her face.

“Guys, I'm so sorry,” she apologized sincerely.

“Mom, what was that?” you asked, allowing Daryl to pull you into his side, your boyfriend instantly recognizing your anxiousness. “Was that really—?”

“Your father?” she finished for you. “He is, but I really wish he wasn't.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. Unwillingly, you felt a lump form in your throat, the recent play of events turning your whole world upside down. For years, it had just been you and your mom. Your father was practically a ghost story, only being regarded as your "sperm donor". Yet there he had been mere minutes ago, standing in front of you. You felt overwhelmed, and you could feel your throat constricting.

You had to get out of there.

“I have to go,” you weakly mumbled out, withdrawing from Daryl's hold and pushing past your mom and heading out the door, walking in a familiar direction.

“Sweetheart, wait!” your mom called after you, but to no avail—you were already gone.

Daryl placed a hesitant hand on your mom's shoulder, bringing her attention to him. “I'll get her. I know where she's goin'.”

Your mom offered him a weak smile. “Thank you, Daryl,” she thanked him, vaguely motioning over to the laundry hamper at the other end of the room. “You left one of your shirts here the other day. It's in there.”

Nodding, Daryl walked over and grabbed the shirt, slipping it over his head—he was glad that his scars were once again hidden from plain view. Sparing your mom one last glance, Daryl ran out of the trailer and in the direction where you had disappeared.

A few minutes later, Daryl ended up by the river. There, just as he had predicted, you sat, your knees brought up to your chest, your bare feet resting in the cool water. You were staring straight ahead, clearly deep in thought.

“Figured I'd find ya here,” Daryl spoke softly as he sat down next to you, successfully gaining your attention.

You turned your head to him, tears falling from your eyes. The sight broke Daryl's heart. It was extremely rare to see you crying; you were always so happy and never let anything get you down, so the whole ordeal must've been too much for you.

“I'm sorry,” you brokenly whispered out, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Fer wha'?”

“For leaving so abruptly,” you explained, tracing mindless shapes and figures into the sand beneath you with your finger. “You were probably so uncomfortable. I know how you feel about people seeing your scars and I just left. I'm really sorry, Daryl.”

It amazed Daryl how, even when it was something that didn't directly affect him and quite obviously took a huge toll on you, you still worried about him more than yourself. You were selfless and hated making just about anything about you, and even though Daryl loved that about you, in that particular moment, he wanted you to be selfish. He wanted you to make this about yourself. He wanted you to cry, to scream, to throw things. He wanted you to be mad at what happened. He didn't want you to worry about him in a moment like that.

Daryl wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his side. “Dun' worry 'bout me,” Daryl whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your temple. “How are ya feelin'? And dun' try and pull tha' "m'alright" shit with me. I know ya better than tha'.”

You inhaled deeply and sniffled. “I just... Never expected to meet my father like that. I've always dreamt of meeting him, y'know? And now that I have, I don't know how to feel. On one hand, he's my father and I wanna get to know him, but on the other hand, he's clearly a fucking dick and he needs to fuck off. And my mom... Oh, god. I left my mom. She probably thinks—”

“S'okay,” Daryl reassured you, wiping away the tears that had fallen from your eyes again. “She ain't mad. She's jus' worried 'bout ya.”

“I'm overreacting,” you mumbled, shaking your head in disappointment at yourself. “A few harsh words with that man and I bolt. It's ridiculous.”

“Listen to me,” Daryl began, pulling back and cupping your face in his hands, gently forcing you to look at him. “Yer not overreacting. Everythin' tha' happened was unexpected fer ya. Ya jus' met yer dad in the worst way possible and ya were overwhelmed. Nobody blames ya fer needin' a moment to process everythin', alrigh'? Ya deserve to take a moment fer yerself, a moment to be selfish. Ya hear me?”

You nodded, allowing the tears to fall freely now. Daryl pulled you into a proper hug, allowing you to sob into his shirt. He didn't care that your tears were soaking his shirt—his only concern was you. He whispered sweet nothings into your ear, rocking you from side to side until you calmed down.

“Thank you,” you whispered after a while, sniffling softly.

“Ya dun' have to thank me,” he told you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “M'always here fer ya, jus' like ya are fer me.”

“I love you, Dar.”

A beat of silence passed, until Daryl whispered into your ear. “I love ya too, sunshine. I love ya so fuckin' much.”

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matan4il · 19 hours

Text

911 ep 706 first watch reactions

Buck and Eddie setting up the bachelor party are so funny. They're married to a degree that the bride and groom can only aspire to one day achieve. And Madney are raising a kid together! Then again, so are Buddie, and have been since day 2... (day 1 is forever Buck ogling Eddie at the station, and Eddie strutting his stuff for him, with Buck's now canonically jealou-traction being the, ummm, lubricant)

Oh, Tommy just arrived, Buck and him have done nothing but hug, and Eddie's already bringing on the jealousy jealou-traction. IDK what is the etiquette about bringing your date to a bachelor party, but what's the rule about bringing your hubby who's jealous of your bf?

Oh, and an extra jab at Buck bringing Tommy officially as his date to the wedding. I love me a jealous Eddie. My dude, your closet is shaking so hard, it's about to push you out of itself if you don't make the move already.

Okay, in all seriousness, Tommy not dressing like the 80's, Buck showing that he really cared about that silly party theme, Eddie rolling with it, the two of them being dressed more as a couple than the actual guys dating, Buddie seeing things so much in the same way (down to both seeing themselves as the same character from Miami Vice) while Buck and Tommy are totally out of sync... I love that Tommy is there to help Buck figure himself out, but also, this is the stuff that will forever keep me shipping Buddie.

I know the flashback is mainly to show that the bachelor party is Buck's idea, and goes against Chim's wishes, but Eddie suggests the couple costume? And Buck was so readily on board? Even when he knew Tommy would also be invited? This is my house catching fire, while I sit here, mumbling to myself how fine it all is...

Okay, everyone leaving the bachelor party, even the guy Buck is dating, while Eddie stays, sure is something. And by "something" I mean "a couple." That's a couple. That's Buck's partner in everything, even dumb ass 80's costumes and failed bachelor parties, he's the one who jumps in whatever stupid plan Buck comes up with, and stays to deal with the mess.

LOL And then we got some REAL mess. Again, dumb Buck idea, and Eddie just rolling with it. Making it worse even, by suggesting how to take the party (made up of people who don't even know the groom) to Chimney. These two deserve each other. XD

Buck was behind Eddie while his shirt was being torn? Presumably helping with the tearing? That's it, 911 does not want me to make it to the end of the season with my sanity intact. I guess it's good that I'm not even trying...

I'm glad there was a representation of Chim and Kevin, and a Korean tradition, I just hope it was a truthful one. (do we have Korean viewers in our midst to chime in on this?)

Maddie using her 911 skills to find and help Chim is pretty badass (and a nice gender reversal of the 'damsel in distress needing to be saved a sec before her wedding' tale). Love it!

Maddie and Chim looked so happy during their wedding. Honestly, at the end of the day, my little hopelessly romantic heart doesn't need more than that. <3

Awwww, the Buck and Tommy kiss was nice. I think the most important part of it is we got to see Buck for the first time daring to kiss another guy, rather than wait to be kissed. I may bbe a Buddie shipper, but I think this r/s is important to Buck as well, to his ability to find what he wants, to not be scared of it, to not wait for others to want him as was the case with all the women he'd dated, but rather figure out what he wants in a certain moment, and that it's okay for him to go get it.

(I still don't think Tommy is Buck's endgame, though. Much as his probably my fave Buck r/s so far other than Eddie. Tommy not being there for Buck when the bachelor party flunked, him not being there at the wedding itself, to share this significant moment with Buck, being almost incidental to Buck's coming out to his colleagues and parents, other than being a gay that was obviously kissed by Buck just a short while ago... Again, just not the stuff great love stories are made of)

Hen going, "Finally!" to Karen was funny and cute. Everyone (almost) just smiling at Buck's coming out was nice. But the way his mom reacted in particular felt more realistic, and made me wish that at least with his parents, who we know he has a strained r/s with, the should would have allowed this to be more explored. Hopefully in a future ep if not now.

Thank you for reading! If you're looking for more, you can find my s7 reactions tag here, and more of my Buddie meta and content in my pinned post. xoxox

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quodekash · 2 days

Text

yeah so im gonna make my silly little commentary posts for we are sometimes but not all the time

he stared at his friend's water and started smiling like a fucking idiot 💀

h2o just makes him giddy like that 🥰

also I genuinely fucking adore Pham and Fang's dynamic, they care about each other so much (I might cry)

I JSUT FUCKING LOVE HIM SO MUCH CAN YOU BLAME ME

im sorry, i cant get over the fact that q fuCKING SANG SOUND’S SONG FROM MSP IN THE THIRD FUCKING EPISODE OF THE SHOW

HES JUST SO SMOL I FUCKING ADORE HIM SO MUCH DUDE

here to pick up his twink

HES JUST SO SMOL THO LIKE CAN YOU BLAME ME???

I JUST WANNA RUFFLE HIS HAIR AND PINCH HIS CHEEKS HES SO FUCKING ADORABLE

i think i just really love satang cos during msp every time sound was on screen i lost my shit and now every time toey is on screen i lose my shit

btw i fully had to rewatch that entire scene, i was entirely focusing on satang’s little adorable fuckin face that i forgot to read and process the dialogue lmao

his expression is like “did you bring me here to do your chores, or are you gonna be honest and just say you want to makeout"

the real answer is just that he wants to spend time with him btu doesnt know how to do that normally 💀

(and also that he wants to make out with him)

WHY IS EVERYONE SO FUCKING SMOL TODAY

HES TINY

HES THIS BIG 🤏

OML IT HAPPENED FOR LESS THAN HALF A SECOND BUT I PAUSED IT AT THE EXACT PERFECT MOMENT

I genuinely adore accidental kiss tropes in bls, its just so unrealistic its fucking amazing

[insert image of phum's friends walking in here (I had to delete some of my screenshots because I can only do 30 and I dont want to do more than one post for this)]

AND THEN HIS FRIENDS WALK IN, CLASSIC

it's so awkward and I am LIVING for it

people in bls always walk in at the WORST possible moments and its AMAZING

THIS WHOLE SITUATION IS SO RIDICULOUSLY FUNNY TO ME

phuwin’s character trying to cook is so me

and also my sister, one time she was making spaghetti bolognese for us for dinner and she put way too much salt, and then to attempt to solve the problem, she put water into the pan to "evaporate the salt" 💀

the best part is I didnt even realise why that wouldnt work until my brother started laughing

anyway, back to the ep

WHAT DRUGS ARE IN THIS EPISODE TO MAKE EVERY SINGLE FUCKING CHARACTER SO BABYGIRL

THEYRE ALL SO SMOL AND ADORABLE AND BBG WHAT IS GOING ON

HES SO TINY

Youre fucking KIDDING

IM SO SUDDENLY INVESTED IN THIS MAIN COUPLE

THAT WAS SUCH A SUDDEN SWITCH BRO

literally last week I was like "yeah okay I like it" and then suddenly im on the verge of tears when they make physical contact???

[insert image of pun eating]

PUN !

MY LITTLE GUY

I ADORE THEMMMMM

oh fuck yes I love this friendship already and it just started

AND CHAIN'S GETTING JEALOUSSSSS FUCK YEAH

they look like tired dads fr

is phuwin just fuckin short or is pond like 3 metres tall cos holy shit

LOOK AT HIM

SMOL BITCHES

EVERYONE'S FUCKING TINY TODAY

woah he really just went for it there

HOLY FUCK HE SAID YES

TAN IS LOSING IT HES SO HAPPY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

great frame

[insert that entire scene with the jump onto him and the holding hands and the FUCKING CHEEK KISS]

HES MY LITTLE FUCKING GUY

HES SO NEURODIVERGENT AND I ADORE HIM

KICKING AND SCREAMING MY FEET RN

he's jealoussssssss

I love pun so much, I truly would die for him

Welcome back to another episode of Toey Thinks Peem And Phum Are Dating (And He’s Right)

Im gonna be completely honest, if pond looked at me like that, id probably do whatever he tells me to without a second thought

thats all im saying

LOOK AT THAT LITTLE FACE

HES SINGING THE FUCKING ABAAB SONG

IM CRYING DUDE THIS IS AMAZING

ARE THEY JUST GONNA SING SONGS FROM OTHER BLS FOR THE QHOLE SERIES? IM FUCKIN DOWN FOR THAT DUDE

this song is so out of winny’s range tho 💀

so fucking SMOL

also chains hand just always naturally rests on pun’s shoulder

literally all the time

what im saying here is I think they should kiss

HE DIDNT JUST GRAB HIS WRIST HERE HE GRABBED HIS HAND ERIJKGBNREJB HOLY SHIT

Cool! 👍

im glad they finally got there

FUCK YES NEXT EPISODE WE'RE GETTING THE SCENE FROM THE PILOT THAT MADE ME LOSE MY SHIT

PUNCHAIN FOREHEAD KISS AND QTOEY CHEEK KISS BITCHES

okay now I just have one final question before I take my leave: what the FUCK was the song playing in the background of the qtoey scene near the end of the episode

it was just electric guitar and I KNOW recognise it but I cant figure out what fucking song it was (literally I finished the episode at like 1:30 but didnt go to sleep til 3 because I was trying to find the song)

so please, if ANYONE recognises it and knows what it is, tell me as soon as you can cos Im fucking dying

update: a moot is pretty sure the song played over other qtoey scenes earlier in the show (the same way msp did with noelm) so now im fuckin PSYCHED for the new song that’s gonna come out eventually

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king-bumis-armpit · 3 days

Text

The Wedding Weaver

Written for Maiko Week 2024 - Wedding

Summary:

The master matchmaker and self-proclaimed Wedding Weaver is going to be in Ba Sing Se for the first annual Peace Extravaganza hosted by Avatar Aang. Inspired by his message of love and unity, she will be offering a discount on her services for the week of the festival! Find your peace and harmony with your perfect other half…

Mai and Zuko are brought together by forces beyond their control.

Author's Note:

This is admittedly a big stretch of the prompt. After I wrote this, I saw that “matchmaker” was actually a prompt back in 2022! I didn’t have the desire to write back then, but I’m a long time reader of Maiko fics. If you’ve written one, I have probably read it multiple times and I love you <3 That being said, this is my first foray into writing so please be kind ^^

Also, I should mention this is probably not an accurate portrayal of matchmakers and it is certainly not meant to be a representation of any cultures that have historically utilized matchmaking. It’s just a silly idea I had and I wanted to write.

The Wedding Weaver

Mai looked at the paper with disdain. “Why exactly are you showing me this, Mother?”

Michi sternly met her daughter’s gaze. “You have been moping about this house for far too long. I was engaged by the time I was your age!”

“Look how well that turned out.”

“Young lady!” Michi seemed to be about to launch into a tirade, but for some reason she held back and sighed. “You know we are traveling into the city for the festival. I thought perhaps it would give you something to do, since you are always bored.”

Mai’s Aunt Mura landed a very lucrative business deal with a guild of artisans. She would be providing florals and arranging the decorations for their stalls during the festival. Merchants from all over the Fire Nation, and doubtless the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes as well, were traveling to Ba Sing Se for the event. The set up process would be intense and Mai and Michi both were planning to help. But once the festival was underway, the two of them could step back and enjoy a peaceful vacation. Mai was planning on taking Tom Tom to the zoo that Aang helped build, buying Earth Kingdom daggers, and getting a cup of tea at the Jasmine Dragon (at a time when she knew Zuko would be in a meeting of course). Meeting with a Matchmaker and possibly having to entertain a stranger was not on the top of her to do list.

“No thank you.” Mai replied curtly.

Michi sighed, “I was afraid you'd say that, but it's too late. Your aunt and I already signed you up.”

Mai expected this kind of treachery from her mother, but not her aunt. “What on earth were you thinking? Why would auntie do that to me?”

“I was thinking that you needed to get out of the house. And Mura agrees. You’ve been more despondent than normal. All we want for you, Mai, is to be happy.”

Mai shook her head. She could probably get out of it if she really wanted to, but when her mother put it that way it sounded depressing. Maybe she should give it a try. What's the worst that could happen?

— —

“Is that all for the agenda?” Zuko was in a hurry to get out of there. His combined meetings with the Fire Sages and his Royal Advisors always seemed to drag on. It felt like they were all ganging up against him. No wonder all of his ancestors were so cranky.

“Actually my Lord, there is one more item we wish to address with you. As you well know, there have been two assassination attempts on your life in the past four months. Furthermore, you are in the precarious position of lacking in heir,” an elder Fire Sage began.

Zuko did not like the sound of this. “What of it?”

“Well your majesty,” one of his advisors continued, “we were hoping that you might start to make some progress in that department.”

“Surely you're not suggesting that I go out and have a child tonight.”

“Not at all. Not at all. But perhaps you could enter another courtship?” the Advisor replied.

Zuko stiffened. He knew that he shouldn't still be so hung up on her. It’s been months since our breakup, and she has a boyfriend. Kei Lo. May he suffer the torment of Agni’s eternal flame.

Oh Mai. She’s so beautiful, and lethal, and witty, and she’s always bored but never boring.

“My Lord?” The spell was broken.

“How about I name Kiyi my successor and we all call it a day?”

“That is a… fair enough solution in case of an emergency. But consider what the burden would be like for her if she were to ascend. A significant number of the people are struggling to accept you as they're rightful ruler, but she does not even have Royal blood. What do you think would be her reception?” Shiu- the Great Sage- prodded him gently.

Zuko bit his lip. He hadn't thought of that. “I don't know what you want me to do. Being the head of state doesn't give me much free time to go around meeting young women.”

“We believe we have a solution,” The advisor who spoke passed him a paper. It appeared to be an advertisement of some sort.

“You want me to see a matchmaker?”

— —

Mai hated to admit it, but she was nervous. After the festivities had begun, the vendors assured Mura that they didn't need any additional help for the day. Consequently, Mai had nothing to do while waiting for her appointment with the Wedding Weaver except imagine worst case scenarios. What if she asks me a bunch of weird personal questions? What if she tries to set me up with a creepy old guy? What if her office is all pink and lovey-dovey?

In reality, the Weaver’s office was relatively large and open. The walls were green, and the furniture seemed to all be locally made. At the back of the room privacy screens prevented her from seeing the countless filing cabinets of her clients’ information. In the center of the room was a large desk, but instead of thin wooden chairs, on either side there were great comfy recliners. Mai sat in one, the matchmaker the other. Mai's mother, Aunt, and little brother had all accompanied her and sat on a couch behind her. Against the wall was a large standing loom, with a project clearly in-progress. It seemed the Weaver had chosen that moniker for a reason.

The Wedding Weaver herself was a petite woman. Her snowy hair was held in a tight chignon and her eyes sparkled with something that Mai didn’t entirely trust. “Don't be nervous dear,” the Weaver said while pouring some tea. She passed Mai a cup which she accepted gratefully. “Now, tell me about your ideal husband.”

“Umm… That’s a bit broad, don't you think?”

The older woman laughed. “Let me help you out. Do you have a preference for if he's Fire Nation or not? Do you want him to be a bender? Do you have occupational preferences? What values do you most look for in a partner?”

Surprisingly, Tom Tom spoke up first. “He has to live nearby. Mai can't move away.” The boy toddled from the couch and up into his sister’s lap. She accepted him without question. The pout on his face was very convincing, but even if it wasn't, Mai agreed. Best to limit the results to her own country. What if she actually liked the guy?

“Yes. Fire Nation. I don't really care if he's a bender. But if you do choose a bender, I want him to have conventional weapons training as well.”

The matchmaker raised her eyebrows. “Do you get into a lot of fights?”

Mai smirked. “Not so much anymore. But a lot of benders can be sort of pretentious to non-benders like myself. I'm trained with knives, you see.” Mai pulled one from her sleeve to prove her point, as Tom Tom looked on in awe. That was something she loved about Zuko. He thought her deadly precision was just as magical as making fire appear. They would train together for hours, each taking turns to watch the other in admiration and desire… Mai mentally kicked herself. This was NOT about him. It was about her.

Her mother spoke next. “Mai comes from a noble lineage. We would prefer someone with a title or a respectable job in the service of the Fire Nation.” The Weaver noted that Mai shifted uncomfortably at this. Curious, she thought. Perhaps the girl is self-conscious around higher nobility. The Weaver dismissed it as a non-issue. She is dignified and reserved, she would fit right in.

The matchmaker smiled. “Yes of course. Many such men are in town for the festival, and quite a few have booked with me. That shouldn't be so hard.” She thought about her next appointment with anticipation. That woman has no idea how impressive my clients are.

Mai spoke once again. “When it comes to values, I don't know how to classify this but I want someone who treats me like an equal. Someone who is trustworthy and is willing to share their heaviest burdens with me.”

She blushed at this confession, but the matchmaker did not know why. Surely anyone would want such a dedicated girlfriend?

“What about physicality? Any preferences with regards to appearance?”

Mai thought for a minute. “I don't have strong feelings about that really.”

Mura objected. “Oh no! Find our girl someone handsome!”

The Weaver laughed. “I think that can be arranged.” She had taken diligent notes throughout the meeting, and it seemed she already had a few names in mind.

She had Mai fill out a parchment questionnaire before leaving so she would have some additional personal info and more detailed preferences, but the Weaver liked to start by getting a sense of the person through conversation. She found it produced a much more accurate tapestry of a person’s desires.

— —

Mai’s family left late in the afternoon, as they had claimed the last spot on her schedule. However, today she had accepted a special request for an out-of-hours appointment from the Fire Lord himself. He, naturally, had diplomatic appointments throughout the commencement of the Peace Extravaganza. But beyond that he required the utmost discretion.

He did not arrive in her office until the sun was setting, but she did not mind in the slightest. He was her most important customer to date, and she was determined to find him a good match. When he walked in, he was accompanied by two older men: one of his advisors and one of the Fire Sages. She bowed to him in the Fire Nation custom as they all took their seats. She thought about offering tea, but remembered that his uncle was the best tea maker in the city and decided against it. Her brew surely could not compare.

She began in her usual way: “Don't be shy. Tell me about your ideal wife.”

“Oh! Uh…” Zuko was at a loss for what to say. His traitorous thoughts ran rampant: Her name is Mai. She lived across the street. She works for her aunt in a flower shop. She kissed me when I was thirteen and my life has never been the same.

The Matchmaker smiled warmly. Her clients weren't so chatty today. “That's okay, dear. Does she need to be Fire Nation? Do you want her to be a bender? Are there requirements for being the Fire Lady? What values do you most look for in a partner?”

Zuko took a breath and tried to remember all her questions. Maybe it was because of his mother’s theater background, but whenever he was nervous, he found it helpful to put on a persona. I’m not Zuko, I’m the dragon emperor and I am looking for a bride. He put on his best royal voice and began, “I think it would be best if she was from the Fire Nation. If she is to be my wife, then she will be their ruler someday. And a ruler should be well acquainted with her people. In that vein, a good education is also important. I want someone who can help me make decisions and be my true equal. I don't want her to feel imposed upon because of my station.” Zuko almost choked up during that statement. He couldn't stop thinking about Mai and all of the ways he failed her. He desperately wanted to be anywhere but there.

The matchmaker’s eyes darted to the forms on her desk. She shuffled through until she found what she was looking for. The Royal Fire Academy for Girls, eh? The matchmaker knew she was entering dangerous territory. It was always tempting to pair up clients who had sessions back to back. But she’d learned well enough from the Kangaroo Island Incident that this was not always wise.

“A fire bender would be strongly preferred,” the Fire Sage cut in.

Zuko's response was immediate and involuntary. “No!” Everyone looked at him, and he scrambled to regain his composure. “I mean… a fire bender would be fine but I don't have strong preferences in that regard.”

The Weaver’s eyes twinkled with mischief. He probably wanted a young lady who he could impress with his bending. She’d met many a man like that in her day, and some of them were quite impressive indeed. The gloomy girl wasn’t a bender, but she would still be hard to impress. Perhaps that is what he needs.

She pursed her lips: “Are you trained in any martial arts other than bending?”

Zuko was surprised by the question. “I trained with Master Piandao in dual dao swords.” For some reason, this answer seemed to please the Weaver greatly.

“Don't forget, Fire Lord Zuko, your prime directive in this union is to produce an heir. And it would be most beneficial for the nation if that child was a firebender,” his advisor at last spoke up.

Zuko responded icily: “I do not care if my child is a firebender or not. And for your sake, you had better not care either.”

The Weaver recalled how the knife girl had cradled her brother in her arms.The pair would be good parents. Perhaps a tad over-protective, but a little prince or princess would require a greater level of care.

The Fire Lord continued speaking, “But since you reminded me that your rush for an heir was spurred on by multiple assassination attempts, I would like a woman who knows at least basic self-defense. My guards can only do so much. It would ease my mind if she could protect herself.”

The Matchmaker nodded in agreement. Truly this job was getting too easy. “Do you have any preferences on how she should look?”

Zuko blanched, and instinctively reached up to touch his scar. “I really don't think I have any room for judgment.”

The Matchmaker tsked. “Nonsense. You are quite handsome, and everyone is attracted to different traits. Is there anything- a certain eye color or hair style- that you find particularly compelling?”

Before he could stop himself, Zuko answered, “Long hair. Straight. And silky smooth.”

The Matchmaker smiled. This time was nothing like Kangaroo Island. The two were obviously meant to be. “How do you feel about bangs?”

“I think they're really cute,” he said with a small voice.

The Matchmaker handed him his exit paperwork, and leaned back in her seat. She couldn't believe her luck! Those two kids are perfect for each other. And to think they wouldn't meet if it weren't for her planning their date. She was confident there would be a wedding within the year.

— —

“You’re kidding!” Ty Lee squealed. “You’re really going on a date!”

“Yeah.”

“And it was set up by the most famous matchmaker in the world?”

“I guess so.”

“Do you think he’ll be handsome? Or rich? Oh! What if he’s like Earth Kingdom royalty or something?”

Mai sighed, “Honestly, Ty Lee, don’t you think I’ve had enough of handsome, rich royalty?”

Ty Lee had the decency to look ashamed. “Oh yeah. I guess I still kind of think of Zuko as our childhood friend. It’s hard to believe he was my boss. Even when I was guarding his life, he still just seemed like Zuko.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why did Zuko send you all away?” About four months ago, Zuko had seemingly out-of-nowhere decided to send the Kyoshi Warriors home. Against her reasonable judgment, Mai took the action personally. Not only did she employ them in the first place, but she had become good friends with Suki and the other girls. She often met up with them for lunch, shopping, sparring, and passing the time in general.

Ty Lee rustled at her wording. “We were honorably discharged, thank you very much. The opposition to his reign was calming down and so I think he wanted his guard to be all Fire Nation again. There was some pretty nasty talk about us being a foreign militia in the palace, but I don’t know if that affected his decision.”

Mai nodded. She knew firsthand how brutal Fire Nation court gossip could get, but she hoped that wasn’t impacting Zuko’s security decisions.

“Anyway, don’t think you can get out of this date talk by bringing up your ex boyfriend.”

Mai shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I won’t meet him until tomorrow.” It had been less than twenty-four hours since her appointment with the Wedding Weaver and Mai had already received a missive notifying her that a match had been made and the date was going to take place the following evening. The message arrived during her lunch with Ty Lee, squashing any hopes of keeping the rendezvous secret from her friend.

“Can I see the note?” Ty Lee asked, and Mai dutifully handed it over. She read aloud, “‘To the lady Mai, the Wedding Weaver is pleased to inform you that she has followed your string of fate and found your perfect match. As your lives twine together, never forget your dear old matchmaker.’” The note then detailed where and when they were supposed to meet, as well as the level of dress. The Weaver suggested semi-formal attire, which felt a bit pretentious to Mai. “‘P.S. The person you are seeing is of very high rank, and so you must be discreet with the information about your meeting.’ Oops!”

Mai smirked, “Oh c’mon. He’s probably lower level nobility with a big head! And besides, discretion wouldn’t stop me from telling you.” Embarrassment would, but never discretion.

Ty Lee laughed. “What if it’s King Kuei or one of his relatives? Oh! Or someone related to Chief Arnook! You could tell people you dated multiple world leaders!”

Mai let out a rare chuckle. “That would be pretty epic. But I told her to keep it Fire Nation. Long distance seems so boring.”

“Yeah, I seem to recall that not touching for two seconds was long distance for you and Zuko back in the day,” Ty Lee joked.

Mai tried to act offended. “Hey! We were deprived of affection in childhood. We had to make up for lost time.”

“And you certainly did,” Ty Lee quipped back and Mai rolled her eyes.

Ty Lee resumed her question barrage. “So what are you wearing? And what are you doing for make up? Do you wanna try out a new hairstyle? I’ve had a lot of practice with the girls.”

“Who appointed you as my stylist?”

“I appointed myself! Please, it’ll be so fun!”

They spent the rest of the day trying out various outfits in the market and testing make up and hair at Mai’s hotel. Ty Lee insisted she do something different with her hair, but in exchange Mai was able to get her to agree to a dress that wasn’t pink. In the past Mai might have complained about the cringiness of it all, but after four months of missing her best friend– and going even longer without an excuse to get dressed up– she found herself having fun. When she went to sleep that night, she decided that however the date went the next day, it was already worth it.

— —

On the third day of the Peace Extravaganza, Zuko rose with the sun as always and made his way to the Earth King’s palace courtyard to practice his fire bending katas. To his surprise, Aang was there as well.

“Good morning Sifu Hotman!” he said cheerfully. Zuko smiled and nodded in acknowledgement.

Normally he would protest at the nickname, but he had hardly spent any time with Aang this week because of the various meetings and peace ceremonies. He hoped he could catch up with everyone once the schedule slowed down.

“Want to go through your fire forms with your old teacher?”

“Always!”

By the time they finished, it was still too early for most of the palace to be awake. But Zuko managed to flag down a servant to bring them some breakfast in the courtyard.

“So what’s on your schedule today, your royal fieriness?” Aang asked.

Zuko sighed. “The usual, you know what it’s like. I have a meeting with Earth Kingdom’s office of veteran affairs to trade strategies for dealing with the reintegration of troops into civilian life. Then King Kuei and I are attending the opening of Ba Sing Se University’s exchange student program. After that, he and I are set to have lunch. And then it’s on to a panel discussion with the Water Tribe officials about navigation treaties. And after that we have rehearsal for the Ceremony for Perpetual Peace on the last day.”

“Wow! That’s more than me and I’m the event organizer! Do you think you could have dinner with us after the rehearsal?” Aang looked at him hopefully.

“I wish I could but–” Zuko hesitated, “promise you won’t make fun of me for what I’m about to say?”

“Okay?” Well that wasn’t much of a promise, but Zuko figured it was the best he was going to get.

“My advisors bullied me into seeing a matchmaker. The Wedding Weeder or something like that.”

“The Wedding Weaver!” Aang exclaimed. “She’s really famous over here. She boasts a 95% success rate. Excluding the Kangaroo Island incident of course.

“Well I’d never heard of her. But I met with her a couple of days ago and she said she already found my perfect match. She arranged for us to get dinner tonight.”

“TONIGHT?!” Aang yelled, startling a pair of passing servants.

“Hush up!” Zuko hissed. “No one knows yet except Uncle and my council.”

“But what about Mai?” Aang asked. In the months after the war, he and Mai had become fast friends to everyone’s surprise. Retrospectively, it kind of made sense to Zuko. Aang was a lot like Ty Lee, and being the avatar meant that his life was far from boring. And despite his “upbeat attitude,” he was very accepting of “gloomy” people. It took Katara a little bit longer to warm up to Mai, but not by much. Ever since Mai broke up with him, Aang has been encouraging him to try to fix things.

“She’s still with Kei Lo as far as I know. The last time I saw him, he told me to back off and Mai took his side. I think it’s over.”

Aang was visibly disappointed by this, and Zuko added uncomfortably, “You said this matchmaker was really good, right? I’m sure whoever she sets me up with will be… lovely.”

Aang seemed to realize he was affecting Zuko. “Oh! I’m sure she will! But don’t you think it’s a bit dishonest to try to date someone else while you still have feelings for your ex? Isn’t that like cheating?”

Zuko thought about Aang’s words. “I… I don’t know. But I don’t really have a choice. I have a bunch of old guys breathing down my throat to have a kid. I have to start somewhere.”

Aang gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. That’s rough, buddy.”

— —

Zuko took a deep breath and began to ascend the stairs. The Weaver had reserved an entire rooftop balcony for them. He wondered what his date was thinking about all of this. The matchmaker had not revealed his identity, but had apparently told her that he was an important official who required privacy. What if she’s angry that I didn’t tell her my identity first? Mai had always hated surprises. Spirits, she was beautiful when she despised things.

Uncle had given him a gift basket with an assortment of tea leaves and several coupons for the Jasmine Dragon. He assured Zuko that if his date was caught off-guard, the smell of the tea leaves would calm her. Zuko wasn’t sure if he believed that, but he trusted that uncle knew better than him, so he figured he should probably lead with the gift. When reached the door to the balcony, he rearranged the items of the gift basket one last time.

As he stepped on the terrace, he caught sight of a female figure. She was standing at the edge of the balcony, looking out over the city with her back turned. She had long black hair that she wore loose, and for a moment he almost tricked himself into thinking it was Mai. Maybe bringing up the hair was a mistake.

“Hello–”

She spun around, knives in hand. Agni, it was Mai!

“Zuko, what the fuck? How did you find out about my date?”

Zuko gaped at her, “I– I didn’t. This is supposed to be my date.”

Mai took in the gift-basket and his gelled hair. No doubt both courtesy of his uncle.

She buried her face in her hands and her shoulders began to shake. Zuko felt his heart fall into his stomach. He dropped the basket and ran to her side. “Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean–”

She let out a snort. He pried her hands away from her face to see she was… laughing. She giggled and chortled and it was honestly a bit disconcerting at first. He had never seen her so unrestrained.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She apologized breathlessly through her mirth. She finally composed herself enough to be coherent. “I just can’t believe I traveled to the other side of the world to be set up on a date with you!”

Zuko glowered and dropped her hands. “I could say the exact same thing!”

Mai suddenly became serious, “ I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that I was finally trying to move on and here you are.”

Zuko couldn’t believe this. “Again, I could say the same! No! I should be the only one saying that. You broke up with me. And you’re dating Kei Lo. Why are you even here? What do you mean ‘move on’?”

Mai crossed her arms. “For your information, Kei Lo broke up with me because I couldn’t let go of you.” Zuko felt a fluttering in his ribcage, but she didn’t stop there, “And I tried to be a good girlfriend, but you weren’t interested in my support. You would rather keep all your emotions locked away in your chest.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “You’re one to talk–”

“Hey! I’ve been doing better and you know it.”

He supposed that was true. After all, she was expressing herself with gusto today. He remembered Uncle’s calming tea and retrieved the basket. Luckily, it had landed right side up.

He walked back to Mai and extended it to her. No use in letting it go to waste. “For you.”

Mai looked like she was about to make another cutting remark, but then she noticed the contents. “Is this from Iroh?” He nodded and she accepted the basket. She picked up a sachet of spiced oolong and inhaled. “This always was my favorite. Thank you.” She hesitated, “Are you sure you don’t want to save this nice array for the next girl?”

Zuko huffed. “What next girl?”

He looked around the balcony for the first time, as if he thought some beautiful woman would emerge and save him from this awkwardness. There was a table piled high with food that was rapidly growing cold, and two chairs. Mai was glad she pilfered some dumplings before he arrived. Ty Lee made her spend hours getting ready and so she was starving. And now Zuko was probably going to kick her out before she got dinner.

Mai shrugged. “I don’t know. Whoever the Weaver sends you after me?”

“I didn’t actually see her of my own free will. It’s kind of a long story. Would you like to sit?” He gestured to the table. He pulled out her chair for her. Mai raised an eyebrow, but she set her basked to the side and accepted the gesture nonetheless. He sat across from her.

“So, start talking.” Mai quickly piled food onto her plate. If Zuko actually had a long story, she could finally eat.

“My advisors are concerned that I don’t have an heir. I currently have Kiyi listed, but… if something happens I don’t know if the people will accept her.”

Mai felt a chill run up her spine. “Zuko, you’re talking as though you’re going to croak any minute. Ty Lee told me that the situation was stabilizing and that was why you sent the Kyoshi warriors back to their island.”

Zuko took a bite of a steamed bun and refused to meet her gaze. Mai glared at him until he spoke, “The situation is stabilizing, but it will never be fully secure until the Fire Nation can operate independently. I heard some of the girls talking outside my office one day. They were feeling homesick. It was always meant to be a temporary post, and I didn’t want to force them to stay if they were unhappy. Anyway, Suki and Ty Lee had been personally training the replacement guards for some time anyway. So I ended their contract. And I gave them generous severance by the way.”

“Maybe independence isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Have there been more assassination attempts since they left?” Just like Mai to cut to the chase. For some reason, it made Zuko want to smile despite the serious topic.

“There have been two in the last four months. But the guards are improving, truly. I would not put my family in their care if I didn’t trust them.”

Mai nodded. “All the same, you would tell someone, right? If you were concerned.”

Zuko blinked in surprise. “Who would I tell?”

Mai wanted to flip the table. Instead she took a breath. Pretend you’re explaining a really difficult concept to Tom Tom. “You could tell Aang, or Katara, or Toph, or Sokka, or Suki, or Ty Lee. You know, any of your friends,” she deadpanned.

Zuko smiled, but it was bittersweet. “I’m trying to be better about reaching out. I acknowledge that in the past I haven’t been the best about that. But there are certain things that our friends can’t help me with. They all have their own responsibilities far away from Caldera City. This is something I need to figure out as the Fire Lord.”

Mai felt her heart twist. He didn’t hesitate to include her: ‘our friends.’ She forced herself to speak before she lost her nerve. “You could talk to me. I know things are awkward between us right now, but you’re one of my only childhood friends. I still care about you, Zuko. And I’m not volunteering to be your personal bodyguard or anything, but I don’t mind helping you vet the new recruits or spending some afternoons at the palace to help out.”

“That would be great!” Zuko accepted her offer without hesitation. He would always take whatever she was willing to give him. But then he remembered something she had said earlier. “Only if you’re sure that won’t interfere with your attempt to get over me. I don’t want to stand in the way of your happiness.”

Mai narrowed her eyes, trying to determine if he was making fun of her. And then she remembered what she said only moments ago in the heat of their argument. She felt her cheeks get hot. “Oh! That was… a bit of an over-exaggeration. I didn’t really want to see the matchmaker either. My mom and aunt were pressuring me, and then Ty Lee got on board. I guess their enthusiasm rubbed off on me more than I realized.”

Zuko smirked, “Yeah, you’re so easy to enthuse.”

Mai rolled her eyes and threw a dumpling at him. He had the good sense to duck and he came up laughing.

“So,” he began. “If you wanna hear about my problems, maybe we could start with this festival.”

Mai nodded, “You can tell me all about it until this table is empty.”

Zuko chuckled and quickly launched into complaints about his overbooked schedule and his ridiculous advisors. Mai listened intently, and, in turn, she regaled him with the trials and tribulations of the floral industry. When they finally parted, Yue was well into her nightly journey. Mai rejected Zuko’s offer of a personal escort home, but he insisted she take at least one of his guards. “I know you don’t need the protection, but I can’t have the restaurant owner think I’m an inconsiderate date.” As the pair disappeared into the city streets, Zuko couldn’t help smiling. Maybe Mai didn’t reciprocate his feelings, but she was miraculously his friend again and that was enough. He ought to send the Wedding Weaver a generous tip.

Later, as Mai slid into bed, she thought about her conversation with Zuko. He was so much more open now compared to when they broke up. Had she overreacted in ending things with him? Was it… possible that he was still willing to try again? She didn’t have satisfactory answers to these questions yet, but she had gotten one of her best friends back. That had to count for something.

— —

The First Annual Peace Extravaganza went on smoothly and historic treaties were agreed upon by the remaining three nations. However, nothing that happened was quite as historic as the Third Annual Peace Extravaganza, where the Fire Lord announced his engagement to his long-term girlfriend, Lady Mai. He shocked the world by declaring that their wedding would take place on the summer solstice, just three months away.

There was some talk about whether or not the two would be suitable rulers. In their not-so distant youth, the couple was said to have a tumultuous on-again and off-again affair. But she had been his steadfast companion for the past two years, and the royal council was happy to simply have the promise of a stronger bloodline.

The Wedding Weaver smiled when she heard the news. Since that fateful day, she learned that she was not the reason for the royal couple’s first meeting. By the time they reached her door, their life lines had long since been plied together into a single thread. She took up her place at her loom and began to weave.

— —

For Mai and Zuko, the time between their engagement and their wedding day passed in a blur. On top of their usual responsibilities of keeping a country running, they had to plan what was shaping up to be the largest party of the century. The festivities would take several days.

The first day was their traditional betrothal ceremony, made awkward by the conspicuous absence of their fathers. The awkwardness only grew. Mai’s uncle, the Warden of the Boiling Rock, had offered to take the place of her father, and kept threatening to revoke his approval, making Zuko promise and swear repeatedly on all the Spirits that he would never hurt Mai emotionally or physically. Uncle Iroh, who had taken the place of Zuko’s own father, found the situation quite amusing. Iroh and Mai had to hold back their laughter and the Warden made Zuko get on his knees and repeat his vows.

The second day was the wedding ceremony itself and Mai’s coronation. Zuko would always remember how beautiful Mai looked in the traditional robes. To the crowd’s– and Zuko’s– surprise, Mai openly cried tears of joy as she said her vows. She accepted her position as Fire Lady earnestly, and even the Sages were pleased. The entire Nation celebrated that night, while Mai and Zuko slipped away to celebrate privately.

The third day was reserved entirely for opening gifts from whoever the council deemed noteworthy. King Kuei had gifted them a large and rather unsightly bear statue that Mai decided could live in one of the many basement sitting rooms. Chief Arnook presented them with heavy duty and finely embroidered Water Tribe tunics for their next visit. Zuko was grateful but slightly disappointed. (On their previous trips to the North, Mai had clung to his side like a burr, seeking his inner fire. Now she would likely burrow into her heavy robes instead.) Chief Hakoda, at his children’s recommendation, gave them matching whale tooth knives. These were privately both Mai and Zuko’s favorite gift of the celebration.

Yet even after this event, they were left with an entire storeroom of gifts from citizens and well-wishers that would have to be dealt with eventually, which is where Mai and Zuko found themselves that evening.

“I don’t even know where to start with all of this,” Zuko sighed. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but it’s not like we’re lacking. I wish people would save their money.”

Mai wrapped her arms around her husband. The festivities were making her much more sentimental than usual. “I agree, but think about it this way: they gifted us these things because they appreciate what you’ve done as their leader. It’s all well-deserved.”

Zuko smiled and returned her embrace, “They’re your gifts too. The people are excited to have a Fire Lady again, and I’m so grateful that it’s you. I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else.”

Mai smiled and kissed him on the cheek, but she broke away from his hold after that. She wanted to make her way through at least some of this stuff before they left for their honeymoon after a few more days of public festivities. Everything had already been inspected for security purposes and the servants had created a separate section for gifts from people that they may have known personally. Mai made her way there, thinking it would be a good place to begin. Zuko followed and picked up a wrapped parcel with a familiar seal.

“No way,” he said, chuckling. “Mai, this is from our matchmaker!”

“Really?” she leaned into his side to read the attached note.

Dearest Fire Lord and Fire Lady,

From the moment I met the both of you, I could sense that you were destined to be a match. The string of fate between you is strong! By chance, I met you on the same day, and when the young Fire Lord spoke, it felt like he was describing you, Mai dear. It would be months before I learned that was perhaps truer than I could have guessed. Even though I did not bring you two together for the first time, I hope that the two of you are bound to stay. Please accept this token of my congratulations.

The Wedding Weaver

P.S. Zuko darling, thank you for the generous donations to my business.

Mai raised an eyebrow at ‘Zuko darling’. “You’ve been sending her money?”

“Well she got you back with me,” he replied. “I don’t regret a single copper piece!”

Mai laughed and unwrapped the parcel. Unsurprisingly, she gifted them a tapestry. It depicted the two of them standing side by side, surrounded by a border of their birth flowers. It was an impressive likeness considering that she had only seen them once and that she had rendered them in thread and not ink.

“Woah!” Zuko ran his hand along the stitches. “Do you think my council would let me hang this up instead of a royal portrait?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think so,” Mai replied, “but this is way nicer than the bear statue. We should put it somewhere visible.”

“We should.” Zuko pulled his wife into another embrace. “Do you believe in strings of fate?” he asked, although he suspected he knew the answer.

“No,” Mai answered, “but if such a thing existed, then I believe it would exist between us.”

Zuko buried his face in her hair and smiled. This was about as sappy as Mai got. “I think so too.”

#atla maiko #atla mai #atla zuko #maiko #mai #zuko #atla #avatar the last airbender #mai x zuko #zuko x mai #maikoweek2024 #if Mai and Zuko don't get married in the Zuko movie I will RIOT

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itsnotaphasemomitsanobsession · 2 days

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My favorite fics of all time

For my birthday this year (I'm turning 30!!!) I thought what better way to celebrate the day I was born but also ✨ the day all my favorite characters died ✨ by giving you all some good fics! Happy May 2nd!!!

Running on Air (T): An oldy but a goody! I remember reading this a couple years ago when I rediscovered my love for drarry! I had spent my formative years on fanfic dot net obsessing over drarry and this brought it all back in one fell swoop.

Way down we go (T): I stumbled upon this one 2 years ago and I've been rereading it ever since. It's silly and lovely and they are in Alabama. What more could be said about it? A fantastic and beautiful story and I love it so much.

A big black sky (M): if I had to pick only one fic to read for the rest of my life, it would be this one. I love everything about this fic. It's sweet and loving and kind and wholesome and so sad and just wretchedly the best thing I've read. I reread this at least 2 times a year. And every reread it just gets better and better!

A pulled down shade (M): this one is newer to my list but I can already say this is a great and phenomenal fic! The author put their soul into this fic you can really tell, the effort and the love and the hard work. Truly an amazing read and an amazing story!!!

Nice things (M): I'm a sucker for an eighth year fic and this one is very good. I love a pot smoking draco something about it really gives me the vibes I don't know why. This whole fic is wholesome and it deserves so much love!

You've got the antidote for me (M): listen. Soulmate fics. I need more of them okay? I need so many. I love them so much they make me physically ill. Read this it's so good and sweet with a touch of sad.

Burn the witch (E): big fan of the bodyguard trope! This one also has Scorpius in it and I love when Scorpius is in things it makes me happy every time! But a good fic, very interesting plot and the characterization is very good and the ocs are super good too!!

I was late (you were early) (E): one of those "if we both aren't married in 10 years" fics and it's so good! There's also one in draco's pov I'll find you again (I always do)! It's a very cute story and I loved it a whole lot!

Everything a word can mean (T): a short and sweet little ficlet! It's of course a soulmate fic where they have names that their soulmates call them written somewhere on their bodies. And Harry's just so happens to be savior.

10:37 PM on the Floor of the Seventh Floor Corridor Near the Dancing Trolls (G): another short and sweet ficlet! Takes place during 6th year outside of the room of requirement! Very good and I love the characterization and I enjoy the authors take on this part of the books!

Say anything (M): professors au is one of my favorite aus!!!! And mic it with a French speaking draco and a secretly French speaking Harry! It only gets better!!

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) (T): I loved this fic a whole lot and really enjoyed the dynamic between Harry and Ginny in his oddly enough. I thought it was a very real and thought out fic that also at the same time was wholesome and sweet while going over sexuality and desire. I loved it a whole lot and it made my demisexual heart sing when I saw asexual rep.

Nearly lost things, carefully tended (E): antiques dealer draco and home owner Harry! Harry has some weird things for Draco to look at and he certainly doesn't pick the weirdest things he can find just for the blonde. Nah. Read it. It's great and silly and overall very fun!

I can't think of any more but make sure you leave comments and kudos if you like a fic!!

#drarry fic #drarry fic recs #drarry #hpdm fanfic #hpdm #drarry fanfiction

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neet-elite · 2 days

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↳ EVENT 08. Harvey (Corruption Kink & Anal)

Pairing: Harvey / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,616 Warnings: corruption kink, anal (m receiving), sex toy, strap on, consent checks, masturbation, established relationship Prompt(s): 12 — corruption kink + 19 — anal Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: ignore the flimsy excuse for getting harvey to try out a strap on okay this is PORN we run with SILLY FICTIONAL story lines <3 anyway, i haven't written for harv in a year or so? so please excuse any OOC or terribly written moments </3 im trying to get into his mind despite never talking to him in game LOL.

His voice is shaky and unsure when he eventually gains the confidence to speak, interrupted only by brief bouts of nervous laughter as you hold the silicone item before him, seemingly proud of the size and girth of it, confident that he'll react the way you want. And it's not that he's intent on disappointing you, God no, so far from it! It's just, well;

"Are you sure this'll help me relax?"

He hadn't meant to sound so taken aback, disbelief tainting his otherwise genuine question. But the strap on you so happily wiggle before him is a little intimidating, if he's honest. That, and his analytical mind is unable to conjure up any reason as to why the offending item will supposedly help him de-stress, get him out of his shell as you so eloquently put it earlier on in the week. He's not one to judge, but the scepticism is likely clear on his face; he's never been the best at hiding his emotions. And neither are you apparently, his expression prompting the fall of your own after his admittedly meek questioning leaves his heart hurting a little, aching to reach out and cup your cute little cheeks as a soft reminder that he trusts you! He's just a little anxious, as per usual.

But, you make the first move. Like always, swooping in to save him when his heart is hammering and he struggles to find the right words to express himself appropriately. It's one of his favourite things about you, honestly. How you manage to sync up with him so well without even trying. The romantic within him pinning it down to fate, or destiny.

The look of sympathy you offer him is very much appreciated, an immediate balm to his anxiety ridden heart. Better yet are your sweet reassurances that follow.

"We don't have to do this if you don't wanna, Harvey," Though, the gentle pass of your fingers running up and down his already exposed thigh is all the convincing he needs to proceed ahead with caution, but still he listens to you. Waits for an opportunity to say his piece. "You can always say no— I just think that dabbling outside of your comfort zone might show you that anxieties aren't always telling the truth, y'know?"

While part of him understands that you only have the best of intentions, pretty words promising to help heal him— even if in an odd way. The other half of him is still anxious, fists balled into the familiar sheets below as he trembles before you on your shared bed. When he married you, he knew that there would be obstacles to overcome, difficulties that could—and would—be shared. However, he never expected this. To be stark naked in bed, the pretty sight of you in some delicate lingerie doing wonders for his lust, cock already hard and dripping precum down to his tummy without needing to be touched too much. The strap on you so boldly hold drawing his attention front and centre, gulping at the thought of using it in any capacity beyond decoration.

Still, he persists. Even if only because he trusts you. Completely and utterly, placing all of his faith in you to cure the doctor himself. Where he's failed, he's certain that you'll be able to help— and, there's the added benefit of making you happy too! Something he always strives for.

"No, no," He rushes to answer your acknowledgement of his predicament. "Like you said, um... I think it's worth a shot!"

Ever the vanilla, being pegged as you described it has never crossed his mind before. He knew it existed, of course, but it's never been a topic of discussion in his mind other than: huh, that exists. However, thanks to your insistence on the topic, even going out of your way to research and prep all of the necessary items for the big event, he thinks it's worthwhile trying. There's no use in outright declining an attempt, he'll never know whether he likes it or not without at least trying!

And he's been wanting to be more sexually adventurous with you, even if his thoughts revolved more around having you be on the receiving end of such experimentation. The analysist within him is excited at the prospect of potentially discovering new things about himself, whereas the realist is worried over the practicalities.

Which is where you, fortunately, come in. God forbid he explore the topic on his own, pushing his glasses up in an attempt to focus on the situation at hand, doing his best to not touch his cock to the sight of your pretty smile as you shuffle closer, finding home between his legs. "All right," You start, helping him spread his legs a little wider, toying with the beads of precum at his tip before grabbing the length of his cock with a teasing touch. He inadvertently bucks into the feeling of your soft hands, heat rushing to his cheeks at the cute giggle you let out in response to how sensitive he is.

"Let's warm you up, then."

Two fingers, coated in a mixture of saliva, precum, and lube, press deep inside of him. It's an odd feeling, not wholly unbearable, inching on pleasurable the longer you rest them inside of his asshole. But still, definitely, uncomfortable. Which is probably obvious given how his face scrunches up in inadaptability, slightly cringing at the newfound feeling in his lower half.

"How are you feeling, love?" You tenderly ask him, and it takes him a moment to collect his thoughts. Another few to gather the strength to speak with the pressure he's experiencing below the belt.

"Uh... Weird. I think?" He questions even himself, eyes trained on the way his cock bobs and jerks under him, matching the lazy strokes in and out of his ass from your fingers. It's difficult to deny that some part of him does enjoy the feeling your offering him, it's just that it's new, he decides. Yeah, it's just new and he's just anxious, worried about his performance, how he must look to you right now, slightly hunched over himself as an instinctual reaction to the tension of your fingers inside of him.

And the light laughter you let out given his response only heats his cheeks up some more, his own fingers tightly fisting into the sheets in soft embarrassment. "It's okay, Harvey. I think most people feel that way when they just start too. Give it a few minutes, and then we can decide if you wanna stop or keep going, okay?"

Okay, that he can work with. Once again relaxing his posture, leaning back against the bed headboard to let you work your magic. It only takes a minute or so longer for your words to ring true, for his trust in you to bear fruit— resulting in his body jerking forward at a mere prod against his insides.

"W-Wait!" He ends up gasping, surprised at the tone his exclamation carries itself with, but nonetheless he continues rambling. "What— wait, what was that?" He almost laughs, tenderness present in how his hand wraps lightly around your wrist that's pressed against his ass. He's not even aware that he's doing it until you just as affectionately remove his hand, cooing sweetly for him to relax.

"Told you it'd feel good." You smile, toothy and wide for him to further trust, wide eyes imploring you to show him more of what you mean, because now his interest is piqued.

With every curl of your deft fingers inside, as if pressing on a feel good button, his upper body jerks forward with his cock, spilling precum aplenty for the fingers you have buried knuckle deep in his hole. The once weird and strange feeling in his abdomen soon becoming known and hot. The well acquainted burn in his tummy that he so often experiences when you're touching him slowly climbs back to where it should be, increasing only because you decide to slowly stroke his pulsing cock in tandem with your finger strokes.

His toes curl with your fingers, huffs of air rushed out only for him to gasp it back in, half moans and stuttered words, he's not quite sure what he's trying to convey. One things for sure though, and that's that he doesn't feel so worried any more. The comfortable pooling of lust in his core convincing him to seek out only what feels good, forget about everything else. And he's about to warn you of his fast approaching orgasm, but when words yet again fail him, God can you blame him with the way your fingers skilfully explore his insides, making him feel things he never thought possible, his body does all the talking for him. Shaking under you, panting for air with every pump of your fingers, carding through his hair to clean off the dripping sweat from his forehead.

And then you stop. Suddenly and carelessly. And though he can breathe again, only a pitiful whine escapes him at the loss of stimulation.

"The main event waits, love."

Your reminder of the object to his side startles him out of his lust filled stupor, but only for a moment. For his cock remembers how good it felt to have you inside of him just moments ago, finding himself eagerly nodding for you to proceed, a reassuring grasp at your arm while you get yourself strapped up conveying the message of: please, I'd do anything to feel that way again. Once reserved, now needy.

To be in this position, that is to be under you and not the one on top lining his tip up to your hole, feels strange. Not necessarily in a bad way, but rather... It leaves his head a little dizzy. Body tingling under your touch at the excitement coursing through him, wanting more than anything to keep his mind as empty as it's been turned from your touch.

He feels you tug at his ass, a brief moment of shyness creeping up on him before you compliment him on how pretty it looks. A word he never thought possible to describe himself, but he easily trusts that you're being honest when your gaze meets his own, and he can see the matching hearts in your eyes.

"Be gentle, please..." He mutters, overwhelmed with love and affection for you as you rub the silicon tip up and down between his cheeks, dribbling copious amounts of lube over it despite how wet and pink his asshole already is.

He's not sure why he said it, considering that you are the love of his life and you've already proved to him just how good exploring new things is, helping him relax into the comfy pillows and sheets below as he wiggles himself lower down to get into position for you. But oh to have you lean over him and whisper about how proud you are of him, and how you've always wanted to see him under you like this, distracting him with words of praise as you slowly push the tip of the toy into his stretched out asshole feels so good, ah... Leaves his mouth hanging open and glasses slipping down his nose, a little loving groan escaping him when you kindly help push them back up.

Something as big as the toy almost feels like the experience is restarting all over again, feeling all funny and full in his tummy until you manage to work your faux cock inside of him enough to be fully sheathed. The weight of the toy heavy against his squirmy insides, his brows furrowed in sheer horny frustration.

"Gonna move now, okay?"

He doesn't trust his voice right now, merely nodding up at you as his hand reflexively wraps tight around his throbbing cock when you draw your hips back, squeezing at the base of it as you thrust your hips forward. And the pace is settled quickly, nice and easy and gentle enough for him to grow accustomed to the toy exploring his insides— helped by the fact that he's effectively masturbating in front of you while you tenderly pound his twitching hole.

Tugging his cock up and down, moaning openly at how slippery he feels, front and back. He can barely focus on your face due to his eyes continuously rolling back, body jerking up the bed with your every thrust, humping inside of his tight heat so nicely that he can't help but to compliment you. Spilling babbled thanks between sighs of satisfaction, helping you fuck into him by sliding his ass down onto the toy when he can; as much as possible anyway, given his laying down missionary position under you.

And the feeling of your nails on his thighs, prompting him to lift his legs up and oh— shit.

"Ah, wait—" He begs of you, but certainly doesn't stop jerking off, and he's all too happy for himself when you don't heed his warnings either. Nails digging into the fat of his thighs, pumping the silicone cock in and out of his hole at a new angle; one that immediately tightens the ball of lust in his tummy. "I'm close, gonna cum if you keep going like— ah, like that—!" He urges you for a breather, but when he catches your smirking expression, he understands intimately what you'd rather do.

So he doesn't complain when he feels you pick up the pace, a muffled slap! filling the room with every wet fuck forward you make inside his ass. Moans dripping from his lips, intermingled with half gasps of your name, whines for you to stop, or was it don't stop? Fucking his fist faster too, attempting to match your unfair thrusts, but he's too sloppy with it. Mind too far gone with pleasure to actually attempt to jerk off, instead just idly playing with himself because it feels good. Something he's scarcely done before, but you've brought out some new side of him tonight. One that needs and whines and begs for more, back arching off the sheets when your tip repeatedly knocks against that sensitive spot inside again and again, just like earlier with your fingers.

All he can do is silently stare, brows furrowed in concentration of your every greedy stroke inside, fucking his ass so good that he feels a little numb, honestly. Ropes soon shoot from his tip as his orgasm washes over him, thick and white. Spurting all over his chest, a couple shots landing on his glasses for which he hasn't the capacity to care about, not when you continue to fuck him through the good feeling. Making sure to hump every last drop of cum out of his cock with your toy, milking him dry, his tightly wrapped fist glazed over with sticky seed.

And before clarity has a chance to hit him, he scrambles to beg you to continue, to prolong his empty mind and the good feeling between his legs. The doting smile you wear upon his broken pleading is confirmation enough that you enjoy that idea very much so too.

At least for now, his troubles are far away. And, if ever he needs help in future again, he knows what to ask for. Excited about all the new possibilities your little experiment has brought out of him tonight, wanting to eagerly explore as many options as possible in the safety of your shared 4 walls for the rest of the night.

You wouldn't mind, would you? If he asked for more, a tinge of greed gripping his heart as he watches you fuck him all better.

#500 event!#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv harvey smut

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