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arabellasleopardcoat · 7 months

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Violent Delights (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: As a dornish princess, you live by one saying. All is fair in love and war. When Prince Daemon stumbles into your life, you start to reconsider your stance.

Warnings: Fluff. Pining, yearning, childhood crush. Mentions of sex, sexual thoughts, noncon (Baby reader catching Daemon in the act, it doesn't last long, adults intervene) all the usual Daemon warnings.

A/N: Meet dornish reader! I wanted to explore how Daemon can be in character and be with an actual age appropriate woman. Enjoy.

The first time you see Daemon Targaryen, you are twelve years old. Twelve years old and fascinated by the rain. It’s not something you usually see in Dorne, so as you trail your older brother around the Red Keep, you slip away to get a closer look.

You have never been good at orientating yourself, specially in such large spaces. You climb a stair and go in circles, before you decide to start opening doors. Unsure of which wing you are in, you decide to enter the first empty room you see.

Much to your delight, it is a sitting room with large windows. You choose the biggest one, underneath which a tiny windowsill will do quite nicely for a resting place. The window is heavy to your child self, a monstrosity made of a darker wood unseen in Dorne. You manage to pry it open with great effort and sit by it, one hand extended to feel the raindrops.

It's freezing. It feels just like running water does, but much colder. You close your eyes, committing the feeling to memory. In Dorne, desert and sand extends for miles and miles. When it rains, it's never like this. There are small drizzles, but nothing like this absolute downpour.

If it were to rain like this back home, panic would spread among the population. Crops would get ruined, houses would end up sunk in mud. But as you look down, you do not see hurried servants spreading sand or sawwood in the entrances, much less dragging furniture inside. Everything here seems to be built to withstand the climate.

You close your eyes again, feeling utterly at peace. The soft patter of the rain, so frightening at first, now feels much more calming. This is nice. You could get used to this, you think. Perhaps, when you are older, Qoren might marry you off to a kingdom where there is rain. You would like it, you think. It's a very marvelous thing. Majestic, even. There is a certain beauty in the natural forces making themselves known.

The door opens. You startle. When you look up, you are greeted by the sight of a couple kissing passionately. It’s a blonde man, tall and handsome, and a serving girl. Frozen in place, you stay quiet. You aren’t sure what the protocol is for this, if you should clear your throat or walk out quietly.

The couple parts. The man, young, around her age, pushes the woman down to her knees and starts undoing his clothing. He is a noble of some sort, you know it by the gambeson he wears. It's too finely crafted to be otherwise.

And sure, you are dornish. Someone has given you the talk about the birds and the bees already, along with some necessary knowledge of the feminine mystique. It doesn't mean you want to witness an unknown couple going at it.

As you get down from the windowsill, your shoes thud a little too hard on the floor. The woman doesn’t take notice, her mouth already… Well. But the man, blonde, Targaryen blonde, you think, looks up.

At first, it is as if he doesn’t see you. His face is contorted with pleasure, eyes nearly closed. He is beautiful, you think. His features stand out to you, specially because you are not used to people being so…white. The way he is lost in his pleasure, too, speaks to you in ways you can't yet comprehend.

Then, his eyes meet yours and widen. He is surprised at your presence, but it barely lasts. Without any ounce of shame, he gives you a superior smirk and winks.

You shriek. The serving girl pulls off him as if he were on fire. The man groans.

“Shut up, little girl.” He says, to you, as he pulls the serving girl back on. “In a few years, you too will be on your knees for a man.”

“My Prince!” The girl sounds scandalized. You can tell she is on the verge of placing herself between him and you. It's all over on the way she stands, blocking your view of his nakedness. You wonder if she fears damaging your innocence or what the man might do to you in a fit of temper. You have heard these Targaryens are quite spirited. “She is a child!”

“A dornish one.” The man, the Prince, shrugs. “Now, she can either stay or get out, but I am…”

Whatever he is, he doesn’t get to say it. No, because the door opens yet again, slamming against the wall. You startle, and so does the Prince. The serving girl starts quietly weeping, something along the lines of how she is sure she is about to lose her job.

Helplessly, three pairs of eyes shift to the door. There are guards, spears at the ready, at the forefront of it. One of them even drops his weapon, before shielding his eyes.

“What in the…”

The King and your older brother step inside the room, pushing past the men. Your brother's eyes are frantic, his hands reaching desperately for you.

The Prince still has his pants down.

Your brother takes one look at you, and one look at the Prince and loudly declares:

“We are leaving.”

Safe to say, Dorne does not join the other kingdoms that day.

There are many thoughts in your head about Daemon Targaryen after that. That he is handsome, and bold, and you always smile when told of his exploits. It's not a trait you should admire, as a second daughter, but you like his rebelliousness. When he gets the moniker of the Rogue Prince, you think it fitting.

You grow, during those years. You turn into a beautiful woman, sharp and bold, flourishing in the way women do when free to pursue their interests. But in your suitors' eyes, you have one fatal flaw: You live as you please and bed exactly the number of people you desire to bed.

In Daemon's eyes, though, you are a ghost. A memory that haunts him, every once in a while. He has heard of you, of your beauty and independence. He wonders if he was the one to initiate you into the world of pleasure, if that's why you have turned into such a siren. It's not often that Daemon does, but when he wonders, he recalls the face you had made when shattering your innocence.

But you don't know that yet. The more you grow, the more you forget him, even starting to feel a mild annoyance towards his house.

“You can never trust a Martell.” Or so King Viserys said, when your brother's offer to fund his side during the war at the Stepstones reached him. But he certainly finds it convenient because he pockets the gold so fast, one might believe him a dornish lover.

While it was true that you had an unfortunate habit of deceptiveness, it was not as if you changed sides as fast as a viper shed her skin. You only do it twice a year. Every six months is the perfect time to conduct an assessment of your investments.

Because that was what it was. War was no more than profit, for you, and most of the nobles in Westeros. The only difference is that you were much more honest about it than most.

It wasn't necessarily profitable in terms of gold. No, sometimes it meant gaining lands, or getting other kingdoms to respect you, so you could retain your freedom. But regardless of what you were gaining, you tended to look at things in a rather practical way. Some things were worth the sacrifice, some weren't.

Qoren lacked a business instinct. You had told him time and time again that the Triarchy was not a good investment. You would be losing men and funds, only to stick it to the Targaryens. Grievances aside, it was not worth it. You had to think about the good of your people.

Yet no matter how much you insisted, Qoren refused to see reason. Too proud. He had argued that the Iron Throne was going to scam you, in some way or another. When he had finally conceded to jumping ships, you had found out that he might be right.

While much more profitable than your time with the Triarchy, considering that you were now about to win the war, you were pretty sure you were being robbed. The funds you gave them slipped though their fingers faster than sand. They were either very dumb and got duped every time they bought supplies, or they were inflating the costs on purpose.

The deal had been clear. You would foot one quarter of the expenses for the lasts months of the campaign. But it seemed like you were footing the whole war with how much they were asking for.

While Qoren ruled Sunspear, you had always done your best to be involved in his politics as much as you could. Having been raised with the freedom most dorsnishwomen were, you had not been eager to make a political marriage or leave your home for a land that would think you too unconventional. Instead, to guarantee not being sent away, you had endeavored to make yourself as useful as you could.

But as you grew, you had proven to be much more than so. While he had made a good marriage, with a kind woman, she had not been raised in the way that you had been. You had turned indispensable in the ruling of Sunspear, his Lady in all but the fact that you did not share his bed.

It helped that, unmarried as you were, you retained your title. And as the Princess as you were, you didn't stand for being made a fool. That fact, aided by the hot-blooded nature of the Martells, had been what had prompted you to travel by yourself to the war camp.

If the lords loyal to the Iron Throne did, why couldn't you?

Much to your surprise, when you finally arrive at the Stepstones, it seems like the war is over. You find men pillaging the caves where the Crab King kept his few riches. A few wounded lay on the floor, others already taken by the Stranger.

You step in the sand, kicking a few bodies away to make room for yourself. The whole place is a mess. There are some fires going. Some men are rounding up the enemy’s soldiers, either killing them or placing them in chains. You wrinkle your nose in disgust at the smell of blood and burned flesh.

Slowly, you start to make your way forward. You have made sure to be dressed in the bright yellows and oranges of House Martell, to avoid being confused with someone else. The heavy, male boots you are wearing contrast sharply with the daintiness of your attire.

As you make your way forward, some men try to approach you. You gesture to your guards, a second son of House Dayne and a young man by the last name of Sand, to block their paths.

“Who is that?” Some men ask, dumbly. You roll your eyes. What sort of allies were these, that they didn't recognize your standard?

“Hey, Lady, you can’t be here!” And oh, the sheer stupidity of them all. If you didn't know their lords to be much more cunning, this display might have actually led you to believe that they were, in fact, being duped time and time again instead of inflating the cost of supplies.

“… The Maiden…” Now, that one was a bit better. You looked good in your traveling dress, despite the chunky boots.

“What is she..?”

You bat them all away, set on reaching the center of the smoking ruins. You know the men you seek must be there. The faint screeches of dragons tell you that.

Your knights locate a rock for you to sit on. They stand guard, their backs turned to you. You eye the carnage around you and decide that yes, the rock is precisely where you wish to sit. It's high enough that you get a vantage point to watch the terrain, but not too tall you will need aid to get up on it.

When you sit down, carefully spreading your skirts to not let them touch the dirt, someone sits by your side. You don't need to look up to know it's who you seek. Your guards wouldn't have let him approach if he wasn't.

“Quite the entrance.” He says, casually leaving his sword on the sand. “You have grown.”

Pretending not to recognize him, you look at your nails, casually. His voice sounds exactly as you remember it.

“Do I know you?”

“More intimately than you probably wished at the time.” He laughs, and you finally risk your first glance at him. Daemon Targaryen is still in his armor, covered in so much blood he looks positively feral. His hair, in intricate little braids, is as beautiful as you remember, even if limp and tinted red. A shame he will probably have to cut it now because by the looks of it, the blood and sooth are not coming off.

You are no longer a girl of twelve years old, and he is no longer the young Prince you once caught in the act. Yet, he is still disarmingly handsome. Despite the years and the self assuredness you have managed to cultivate, he leaves you weak at the knees.

How could one say this in a polite manner? Daemon had featured in quite a few of your teenage fantasies, as you grew older. After catching him in the act, you had had an interesting conversation with Qoren. It had opened your eyes to a whole new world of pleasure.

Twelve years old was an impressionable age, especially for young maidens. You had flowered not long afterwards your first exposure to sex. Back then, you hadn't understood what you had witnessed properly, but as you grew, your imagination did too. And Dorne was not a place for the shy.

As you started to look at the world with the eyes of a woman, you had experienced your first infatuation, and it had been on him. Never before had you met a northern that was as open-minded about pleasure as Daemon was, and that fact had made you wonder what it would be like to share his bed. And then, the war at the Stepstones had reawakened your teenage urges.

“You!” You play it cool, as if you had not set up this whole thing on the odd chance of getting to see him. Dornishmen were no strangers to pleasure, after all. And you had never been good at denying yourself of anything you wanted. “The boy in the sitting room.”

“The girl at the window.” Daemon conceded, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “And here I thought I would have to lower my pants.”

You snickered. Daemon looked perplexed for a second, before snickering too. You could tell he was impressed by your lack of a reaction to his joke, probably because he had thought it would scandalize you.

The moment is cut short, though, by his own sobering up.

“You shouldn't be here, little dornish girl.”

“Oh?” You extend your legs in front of you, getting comfortable. Will he mention the elephant in the room, or will you have to?

“These men have not seen a woman in months.” Daemon answers, lightly curling his hand over the pommel of his sword. You look around you, noticing that some of the men are, in fact, staring hungrily at you. It's not something that bothers you, any longer. Despite the nickname Daemon has bestowed on you, you are no girl. Younger than him by a few years, you are more of an old maid. You were used to men's attention. As the Princess of Dorne, you had come to expect it.

“And that concerns me, how?” Because there are much more interesting matters you wish to discuss, rather than the ogling of some uncouth northerns. For one, where was your gold going. Second, what were you having for dinner. Third, if he was going to join you.

“Do I really have to explain?” Daemon arches an eyebrow. Deciding to play coy, you give him a sweet look.

“Please. Do not deprive me of the pleasure of your opinions.” And if it comes out a bit ironic, Daemon doesn't seem to notice, too entranced by the way you are twirling one of your dark curls between your fingers.

“Plenty of hungry cats.” He says, as if in a daze. Apparently, Daemon hasn't seen a woman in months either, if seducing him will be this easy. “And you are looking an awful lot like a little mouse.”

You fight the urge to snicker. You were no mouse, but a viper, and you were ready to strike. But if he fancied himself the protector, you didn't mind playing into it.

“Well, good thing you are here. Now they think this little mouse is spoken for.” You run a hand over his arm, softly. Your hands lift a trace of the blood in his armor, leaving behind a drawing made up of empty space.

“Are you?” He arches an eyebrow, unbothered at the contact. You retract your hand, staring at your now bloody fingernails.

A scattering of images comes to mind. Maidenheads, bloody sheets. The girl you were at twelve. The man he is now. Your nails scratching lines on his back, biting at his throat, nipping at his lips. Unable to connect the thoughts, you let them go until only a pleasant smile remains.

“Are you a hungry cat?”

“No, little mouse.” Daemon tucks a loose curl behind your ear. As his hand comes down, he caresses your neck, lightly. It's barely a brush of his fingertips, yet your breath falters. He leans in, as if sharing a secret. His next words come out in a whisper. “I am a hungry dragon.”

Predictable, if a bit witty. Targaryens and their dragons. Despite it, you enjoy how much of an effort he is putting in. As a Martell, people often expect you to do all the seducing, not noticing you like being seduced as well. It's good that someone finally acknowledges it takes two to dance.

“That explains the never-ending appetite.” You tease, leaning towards him as well. The sun is starting to settle around you, some of his men lighting fires. They do not seem about to stop their pillaging. You wonder if Corlys Velaryon is near, and if so, why he doesn't stop them.

“You have no idea.” His voice is low and smooth. His hand is still on your loose curl, lower, this time. Barely touching your collarbone. His eyes are dark, and you doubt it is from the change in lighting. "A taste would never satiate me.”

“Shame. Little mice make for small bites, I think.” Your lips quirk up at the corners, barely suppressing a laugh. Expert in denial as you are, you know now is the time to retreat. You want him hooked on you so badly, he never sees your next move.

“I would make sure to do so very slowly. Savor it.” Daemon's thumb rubs just between your collarbones, tracing a path towards the valley of your breasts. You move away before he can reach it.

“Maybe, hungry cat.” You stress the last word, already knowing how you will lead Daemon into your trap. It will only take a few well-placed prods at his ego.

“Hungry dragon.” He repeats, a bit annoyed. The idea that you do not recognize him by his proper title upsets him. You laugh.

“Oh, but you look like a starved cat. A stray.”

“I am no stray.” Daemon complains. You arch an eyebrow, coolly.

“What else is a Prince doing fighting a war so far from home?”

Daemon stares at you. You are willing to admit it was quite mean on your part. Perhaps a tad too vicious. But you have yet to accomplish what you wish to, hence why you take it even further.

“You have until tomorrow to deposit the gold you have stolen from us in coffers.”

His whole face shifts, flirty expression replaced by a mask of indifference that is not fooling anyone. Caught off guard by your words, Daemon resorts back to his only defense mechanism.

“And if I don't?” He thrusts his chin up, defiant.

“You will find yourself at war with Dorne.” Your tone is even. Your voice doesn't waver, as if you were discussing the weather and not defying a kingdom much larger than yours.

“And you will declare war with two knights?” Daemon laughs.

“Have you met Dalton Greyjoy, perhaps?” You lean back on the rock, tilting your face up to the sun. Soaking in it. “Awfully young ironborn. Eager to prove himself, much more so if it's to beautiful women. Or so I hear.”

“You have allied yourself with the Iron Islands?”

You say nothing. Instead, you give him an enchanting tilt of the head, as if he was no more than one of your suitors. Your lips stretch into a coy little smile, one that tells him you have a secret he is not privy to.

“I do not believe you.” Daemon shakes his head. He crosses his arms over his chest, before uncrossing them and shaking his head yet again. Stunned. “No. Prince Qoren would never allow it.”

“Qoren would not?” You repeat, mockingly. “And pray tell, since when do you know him so well?”

“Do you know why he dropped the Triarchy?” The question is unexpected. Before this, you had not bothered to wonder about your brother's motives. Used as you were at things going your way, you had assumed Qoren had seen the wisdom of your advice and decided to take it.

“Because I told him it was a bad investment.” You answer, refusing to back down. What could Daemon Targaryen know of the motivations of a prince of Dorne? Nothing. He had to be bluffing, searching for a weakness he could exploit to get out of this.

“Because the Crab King, over there…” Daemon gestures vaguely in the direction of the corpses. “Had eyes that lingered too much on you. And if this Greyjoy boy is the same…”

You blink a few times. It makes sense. The Crab King had never tried to seduce you, yet you know men like that are not used to asking. Instead, they order. You can only guess the face Qoren made when faced with such a demand. He is as proud as you are.

Daemon could be lying, of course. Trying to make you doubt Qoren. Divide and conquer, and all that. You can't let that happen. Everyone knows the two of you are a team. Whatever grievances you have to air with him, they will be on private. You tuck away the piece of information for later, and focus on what's in front of you.

“If Qoren is willing to turn into a turncloak for my sake…” You narrow your eyes at Daemon, menacingly. You know as well as him that the easiest way to stop you is to hurt you. Kill you, perhaps. But it would mean war. “Think of what he will do to you, if you hurt me.”

“You will have your coffers tomorrow, Princess.” Daemon says, bitterly. He knows he has lost. You outmaneuvered him. House Martell has never bowed to dragons. If Daemon declares war on Dorne, his brother will pull the support from the Iron Throne. Corlys Velaryon will not want to get involved, no matter how much he has benefitted from their plot. He cannot wage war alone.

You get up. You dust off your skirts.

“Good. And make sure you bathe before touching the gold. Wouldn't want you staining it.”

You do go back to Dorne with a chest full of gold, and then some. As it seems to be a tendency with Daemon, you almost forget all about him before he is barging into your life again.

It happens on an odd afternoon, while you are trying to broker a deal with a foreign King. The tart taste of the berries makes you scrunch up your face. It's more acidic than what you are used to, but good nonetheless. You smile at the King in front of you. He looks on the verge of drooling.

“I am glad you like it, my Princess.” He simpers. “I must say the shade compliments your caramel skin quite well.”

Caramel. Ugh. How you hate when men compare you to food. It's always your caramel skin, your cherry lips, your golden eyes. Can they get more unoriginal?

You beg to the skies for fortitude. This alliance is important, you remind yourself. Qoren needs them, Dorne needs them. They grow more fruit than you could ever hope for.

As it often happens, your prayers are heeded in a way you could not have expected.

“Princess.” A guard suddenly sprints into the room. “There is a situation at the gates. Prince Qoren needs you.”

You spring up from your seat so fast, one might think there were needles on your cushion.

“I apologize, my King. The berries were lovely. Perhaps you could send some more? For the people?”

“Oh, I understand.” The King gives a jovial laugh. “Duty calls and all. You are right, I shall send you…”

“Good.” You cut him off, and walk out of the parlor. As you start to reach the gates, you slow down your walk. You can't have Qoren thinking you rushed to his side, after all.

“Have you developed some sort of mind reading ability?” Qoren turns at your words. He is facing the gates, right in the middle of the watchtower. It's not an actual watchtower, but rather a ledge on one of your lower walls, right aside to the actual tower. Its slightly off center position allows for a better view of the gates, despite not being very high.

“What's that supposed to mean?” He asks, reclining precariously. Your stomach turns. This is a recurring occurrence, Qoren watching from places he is not supposed to. You often fear he will fall to his death, yet he has yet to even slip. He is noisy enough to not care about the dangers of the world.

“You knew I needed an out, I gather.” You keep your tone flat. While you enjoyed being his right hand, you disliked that so many of your allies thought flirting was the way to do business.

“I didn't. Come here and take a look.” Qoren sounds uninterested in your grievances, which is highly unusual for him. Whatever he is looking at must be fascinating. You start climbing the steps, aided by the guard that led you here. You try to do so gracefully, but it's daunting in a dress as the one you wear.

“How did you even get up here?” You huff, crouching on the ledge before slowly starting to stand.

“Invaders.” Qoren says, unbothered. You nearly fall off, shrieking. The guard pushes you upright again.

“At ease, Princess. We got you.” He says. “Look closer.”

So you do. You narrow your eyes at the horizon, and what you can see of the gate. You can barely make out a giant red blur. A dragon, perhaps? One you already know, by the eerie calm he is sporting.

You only know one dragon. It happens to be red.

“What did you do to that man?” Qoren laughs. Your mouth opens and closes. It has been almost two moons since you departed from the Stepstones, half of the gold you had originally given to the Iron Throne back with you.

You had gone on with your life. Taken a few lovers, here and there. Ate good food. Pawned off resources for alliances. You know, the typical. Daemon Targaryen, though, clearly has not. Because he now stands at the gates of Sunspear, dragon in tow.

“Nothing. Nothing, I swear.” You reply to Qoren, still open-mouthed. “Is he trying to declare war?”

Qoren laughs at you, poking you in the ribs. You squirm away, before remembering you are standing on a ledge. You slap his arm.

“Don't do that! We could fall!”

“The only falling being done here is that dragon prince for you, dear sister.”

“Huh?” You frown, confused. What is he on about? Despite your desire to bed Daemon, you had walked away from the meeting with the certainty that he was not interested in you. You were not a maiden like the ones he chased, nor were you young, and you had done a good job of alienating him after threatening him with war. This could not be a mere visit, for you had parted on bad terms.

But Qoren doesn't answer. He only raises his voice slightly.

“Truss him up in chains!” The order is clearly not meant for you. “And place him on the Princess' solar.”

“What are you doing?” You ask, bewildered, as the guards hurry to carry out his order.

“I'll give you a chance to deal with him.” Qoren says, mysteriously. “I think he is about to ask for your hand.” And with an agile jump, he is off the ledge and getting down the wall. You scramble to follow.

“Qoren!” You scream, nearly falling off in your haste. He is too fast for you, already entering the palace. The guard steadies you again, and you gather your skirts and run after him, but it's too late. You do not know which direction he has turned. “Qoren, what do you mean by that? Have you spoken to him? He asked you for… Qoren, dammit!”

His cheery voice reaches your ears.

“Do try to get rid of him, alright? We can't have our people thinking we have been invaded.”

You chase after the sound, but he is gone. You could follow him to the throne room, but you decide for the more amusing option. No matter if Qoren is teasing about the marriage proposal, you decide to go and freshen up a bit. It will take a long time for the guards to subdue Daemon, and to drag him inside. Plenty of advice for you to change clothes.

Be it for declaring war, or rejecting a marriage proposal, you like to be well-dressed for the occasion. You take your time choosing your outfit, strapping a tiny dagger to your thigh.

Only when an hour has passed, you walk towards your solar. There are a few knights stationed outside, one of them being your Dayne companion. He approaches you cautiously.

“The Prince left instructions for us to enter at your call. One scream, Princess, and we will be in there before he can draw his sword.”

He sounds worried. It's actually kind of sweet.

“Don't worry. He won't hurt me.”

But despite your words, as soon as you enter your solar, you are grabbed harshly by the arm. You look up to find Daemon not only free from chains, but furious.

Perhaps the guards thought it would not be very diplomatic to chain him up. A shame. You jerk off his grip, and go serve yourself some wine. It's a very neat trick, one you have learned from the men in your life. One must let the other do all the nagging while pretending to be entirely innocent, so they sound insane. Often, it leads to the person reproaching you actually thinking they are going mad. You only use it when you feel particularly cruel.

"You took your time.” Daemon follows you, stomping and huffing. “I have been waiting for nearly an hour.”

“I was not decent. I had to change into my afternoon clothes.” You give a little twirl, enjoying the luxurious feel of the skirt against your body. You know it will only anger him further. “Do you like them?”

“You have some nerve.” Daemon scoffs. You offer him a goblet of wine, which he takes. “Do you know what men say of you?”

“Does a viper pay attention to the mumbling of worms?” Your voice is calm and sweet. In truth, you do pay a attention to what they say. Who doesn't? But Daemon doesn't need to know that for the game you are playing.

“You are hardly a viper.” His eyes narrow at you, in a flutter of pretty lashes and lilac. Good Gods, what right does he have to be so handsome. You hate him.

“I like to think I am one.” You drink from your wine, giving him a coy little look over the rim of your goblet.

“They say you are a witch. That you place your spell on them and have them dancing at your tune.” He complains, gruffly. So far, he seems very angered by you, which is fair considering the way you parted. What makes no sense is the fact that he has come this far to make his displeasure known.

“It's not my fault men are often led by their cocks.” You shrug. It's rather crass, but you are unbothered by it. If men are allowed to speak how they please, why shouldn't you?

“Perhaps not.” Daemon cocks his head. “But I do wish to ask something of you.”

“Oh?”

Daemon places his goblet down. He plucks yours from your fingers, all soft movements. He raises your hand to his lips, and kisses your palm. His eyes never leave yours.

“Remove your spell from me.”

You laugh. You stare at him as if he has two heads. You laugh some more.

"I'm serious. You have bewitched me. Ensnared me with your charms and feminine…” He lets go of your hand, angrily gesturing. The laughter dies in your throat. Daemon is not joking.

“I have what?” You repeat, confused. Now you are actually thinking him a madman.

“You have made it so I can't lie with another woman. I only get relief when I think of you. Remove your spell, or I shall…” And it's too good, too much of a joke not to laugh. You restrain yourself, knowing angering him more could be bad for your health.

“You shall what?” Despite your attempts, your amusement must show because Daemon grabs you by the shoulders and gives you a tiny shake. It's not enough to hurt you, but it startles you into seriousness.

“I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you.” His eyes do not show the emotion his words imply. While his face reflects need, Daemon has not drank nearly enough to have such a loose tongue. Something is amiss. “Let me have you. If you don't remove your spell, I need to have you.”

His eyes don't show need, but eagerness. He is trying to manipulate you. The thought of him implying that you must let him have you makes your blood boil. You are angered beyond belief. Has he really come all this way to make some half-assed marriage proposal, in the hopes of trapping you with him? Who does he think he is dealing with?

If you were another woman, more inexperienced, you would let this man manipulate you right into his bed. But you are not. You are old enough to know that lust can be cured with a few well-placed hot baths and enough time and distance. His excuses are a poor attempt. You almost prefer the other men's simpering.

“I am no witch, you fool. Now, out!” You point at the door.

Daemon straightens. He eyes you carefully.

“I need you.” He repeats. It's clearly a lie. You wonder what else is, too. Is it odd to feel flattered by him being so set on you, he is willing to manipulate you into marriage?

“You do not. There is nothing interesting here, go find a whore.” You cross your arms over your chest. Your traitorous heart seems to disagree. You don't want him to leave, says the heat in your cheeks. Not yet, answers the harsh ring of your pulse in your ears.

“I do.” Daemon steps closer. He seems slightly unsure and that is what gives him away. If you are trying to manipulate someone, you have to go all in. You can't hesitate because they call your bluff. His seduction techniques need serious work. “You have to let me have you.”

“I don't have to do anything.” You scowl at him, getting right up on his face. To you, it doesn't matter if you are shorter, you will put the fear of the gods in him or so the Seven help you. “And I do not believe a word you say. If you wanted me to fuck you, you could have merely asked. I do not appreciate you trying to manipulate me. I do not need to be coerced into it, I am no maiden.”

“And if I were to ask?” His nose brushes against yours, tenderly. Daemon's eyes have turned dark, his body nearly vibrating in excitement at your anger. You had heard Targaryens had queer customs, but had not expected him to be so aroused after getting yelled at.

“Too late, out!” You push your index finger into his chest, hard. Daemon smirks. He takes a step forward, forcing you to back off or get your finger crushed.

“You said I had to only ask for what I want.” He gets closer still, backing you against a wall. “No more games.”

“No more games.” You agree, a bit shakily. He noses along your temple, softly. You look up at him, all big, surprised eyes. How has he turned the whole situation into his favor so fast? And when, exactly, did you lose control?

“I want to know what is behind your eyes.” Daemon presses a soft kiss to your brow, then to your eye. You let go of the breath you are holding, eyes fluttering closed. Your lips tingle with the urge to be kissed, alight with the rush that comes from being seduced. But you do not intend to make it easy for him, no. He can't just expect you to submit just because he asks.

“No, thank you.” You duck beneath his arm, leaving behind your moment of weakness. He still tried to manipulate you, after all. He deserves a bit of suffering.

“What do you fear?” Daemon grabs your arm, pulling you towards him. He nuzzles your neck. “It certainly isn't modesty, you said so yourself. You are no blushing virgin.”

“I do not want to marry you.” You jerk free of his grip.

“Perhaps, you think I would enjoy you less. Or you fear I might not like what hides behind your eyes.” He kisses right behind your ear, softly hugging you to him. “The thoughts you have… The things you crave…” His hand traces an upward path, from your belly button to your collarbones. “To me, it only means you are already mine.”

“I'm not interested.” You say, but your whole body is saying yes. You just can't help it. His attention is overwhelming. His hands are gripping at your waist, your hips, everywhere. You shake against him as if you were an innocent still, and not a woman seasoned in the arts of love.

“I made you like this.” Daemon presses scorching hot kisses against your neck. You wonder if all Targaryens run as hot as this one. “Do you remember, little dornish girl?”

“You did not.” You pull away once more, and grab your wine again. You take a hearty sip. The memory you have obsessed over is one he has thought of too. Daemon had awoken something in you that rainy afternoon, and it's clear you had done the same to him.

“I taught you something, even if unwillingly. I always wondered, when I heard of your exploits, if you thought of me too.” And you have. Oh, how badly have you thought of running into him and bedding him, but you are not willing to admit it. You know if you look at him, you will give yourself away, so you keep stubbornly looking somewhere else.

Daemon chuckles.

“Let me see those eyes.” He gently grabs your jaw and lifts your head up. “Ah. So I was right.”

Furious at being caught, you place one of your hands on his hair and tug. Hard. Hard enough to force him to expose his neck.

“How do you feel about my eyes now?” You snarl.

“They are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Daemon's brows are pinched together, his back slightly arched. Your punishing grip on his hair is hurting him, and you are glad for it. Yet, his lips are parted as if experiencing the sweetest delights. “They are those of a woman in the throes of passion.”

“Do not test me.” You warn, forcing him to his knees. He goes willingly.

Daemon reaches up slowly, his much bigger hand curling around your wrist. He coaxes you to let go, softly massaging.

“I can taste the arousal cursing through your blood, Princess.” He pulls you into him, until both of you are sprawled out on the floor. “I see how your chest heaves, how your breath is getting heavier, how your lips plump… You are excited.”

“So what if I am?” You huff. It's all cornered animal. You cannot deny it any longer, you want him too badly for it.

“It means you and me… We are the same.” And he finally kisses you. His mouth meets yours in a hungry kiss, into which you pour all your frustration. But Daemon coaxes you to go slower, to kiss more passionately instead of hurriedly.

“I want you.” He says, when you part. His forehead rests against yours. “Let me keep you. Be mine. A woman as bloodthirsty as you cannot stay alone forever.” As he lays you down on the floor, as he gets on top of you and his hands pin yours down. “Let me keep you.”

And this time, you say yes.

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dumbstupidlameo · 1 month

Text

Blissful Pistol

MDNI 18+

ft Jill Valentine x Female Reader

content 4k words [ Gunplay, vaginal fingering, public sex, oral sex, humiliation, reader talks down on them self, insecurity ]

let me know if i missed anything (:

You're a fresh-faced rookie cop, in the East Office of the Raccoon City Police Department. Your pen shakes in your hand as you clutch onto your clipboard, the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. You can still feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins from the last bust you and your more experienced partner made. But now, they've left you alone to deal with the endless stacks of paperwork. You often wondered if you’d be able to keep it together and prove yourself as a worthy member of the force.

You were experiencing a deep sense of insecurity that had taken hold of you. Everywhere you turned, it seemed as though there were people in higher positions of authority who took great pleasure in making you feel small and insignificant…

At the moment, the truth behind said matter didn't seem relevant to you. You had more important things on your mind, particularly Jill Valentine. She was a member of the S.T.A.R.S Team and had received extensive military combat training, earning her a reputation as a total badass among your peers. You admired her courage, intelligence, and loyalty, but she intimidated you beyond belief. To make matters worse, you were incredibly attracted to her.

The way she carried herself was both alluring and intimidating.

Her tactical duty belt perfectly accentuated the natural curve of her hips and had a feminine yet confident sway as she walked

while her holster rested snugly against her thigh. Her pistol hugs her leg in a way that sends a dangerously warm feeling that rises from the deepest parts of your stomach, flooding your entire body with shameful arousal, you shamefully imagined how fucking good that holster would look gripping her bare thigh.

It was wrong, no doubt about it, was inappropriate to think of a coworker like that, especially Jill Valentine. She deserves the utmost respect. Yet here you were disrespecting her merely by your pathetic thoughts

God, you hated yourself

Time has passed, and you've hardly made any progress on your report. You lean back in your chair at your desk, feeling frustrated. If you can't even organize your thoughts, there's no way you'll be able to finish your paper. You sit up and consider taking a walk to clear your head. No one would mind, right? This work is emotionally draining, and you need some time to refocus and get your head straight

You are certain that one of your colleagues had just thrown a teasing remark "Where are you off to, rookie?" towards you, but you weren't paying much attention to your surroundings due to your preoccupation with other thoughts. Moreover, their teasing tone only further disheartened you.

You strolled through the main hall and unconsciously made your way upstairs until you realized just where exactly you were headed, past the S.T.A.R.S office. You stopped in your tracks. God, you were such a creep “There seriously had to be something malformed in your perverse brain” You ridiculed yourself.

As the door screeched open, you barely registered the sound, lost in your thoughts. But then, a voice like that of an angel, or perhaps a goddess, spoke to you in a concerned tone, and you were jolted back to reality. You found yourself face to face with her, struggling to speak as you lingered nervously on your words. "I'm sorry," you finally managed to say, "I didn't quite hear you."

"Hey there, I was just checking on you," the woman in front of you said with a gentle smile. Her expression, however, seemed to be questioning. It had just dawned on you that you had been standing outside the S.T.A.R.S office for so long. You couldn't possibly get any more embarrassing, could you?

"Right!" you spoke weakly before coughing to clear your throat. "Sorry, I was just trying to clear my mind and got lost in my thoughts." You chuckled but immediately regretted it. Sure, you make a fool out of yourself sometimes, but in front of Jill? You should be ashamed of yourself.

Before you have a chance to overthink it any further, she speaks up and says 'All good, no worries.' She tilts her head with a sincere smile that you can't help but return. She is such an endearing woman. 'If you'd like, you can come in and have a coffee with me?' she asks, gesturing towards the S.T.A.R.S. office.

You could feel your face burning from excitement, and you really were hoping she wouldn't notice it, Jill was inviting you for a cup of coffee with her. Sure, it was in the workplace, but nonetheless, this was the closest you'd ever been to her, and you could feel it burning you from the inside out.

“Yes, I’d really like that!” You responded trying not to sound too excited before she turned from you, signaling for you to follow her as she held the office door open for you, letting you walk ahead in front of her before following in.

Jill holding the door open for you was such a small gesture, but it drove you mad with want and desire. She's such a gentleman, really,

One foot in front of the other, you walked into the S.T.A.R.S office, taking in your surroundings you were quick to notice it was only you and Jill in the room together. Even when you doubled back and looked in the armory still, no one but you and her. Jill made her way to the corner counter where the coffee machine sat and started to pour herself and you a cup as well. You felt your stomach begin to ache with anxiety. You couldn’t shake the feeling. Maybe it was just from being alone with such a beautiful woman that made you feel so uneasy?

You peeked in from the opposite direction, catching sight of her gun holster squeezing her thigh, allowing flesh to spill slightly from beneath its tightly-strapped straps. It sure was tight, As she turned to the side, her gun was finally within your sight, pressed snugly against her well-defined thigh. It was almost as if she were taunting you. The sight alone was enough to make you sigh out wantingly. Perhaps that was what brought you back once again to reality

Jill leaned back against the counter and crossed her legs, allowing your eyes to roam freely over her thigh as she conversed, "Something catch your gaze?"

The realization came upon you like a wave of nauseating fear. You'd been exposed; caught red-handed staring at her gun snuggled up so tightly against her thigh, She knew exactly the kind of despicable character you were.

And then you catch her expression; not one of disgust, to your amazement, but of amusement. Yes; she was smiling at you. No... she was smirking at you. Did she like this? Was she enjoying this?

The flow of your thoughts was abruptly brought to a halt as Jill continued speaking, “You think I don't notice you always eye-fucking me?” her voice still bearing an unreadable tone. Yet, the way in which she was leaning, the smirk plastered across her face, these things could only foretell one thing: you were in trouble. Whether it was the type of trouble that’d entice you, hadn't had a clue. But one thing was for certain, the fate of this encounter was soon to unfold.

You stood there, feeling like a deer captured in the headlights. Jill wasn't having it, though - she made that abundantly clear.

"Come to me," she declared, her tone suggesting that was the lesser of two options. "Better yet..." she followed up with an abrupt pause before finishing her demand: "Crawl to me."

that last line shook you to your core. Your fear and anxiety surged as you felt the inevitable, humiliating moment fast approaching.

Your heart was pounding, and your legs trembled as you reluctantly sunk to the floor on your hands and knees and crawled towards her. If you had any dignity left, it was soon to be vacated. This was degrading, humiliating - the way she was staring at you, the way she commanded your actions - yet, there was an undeniable pull towards this woman that you couldn't deny. You looked up at her with pitiful eyes, She matched your gaze, staring down at you like you were already hers,

You moved with deliberate movements as you crept over to Jill, feeling every inch of your thighs rubbing together with every movement. Your body and mind were no longer at war with one another,

When you finally reached her, your gaze remained locked with hers, unable to break free. She had a satisfied look on her face as she leaned down and grasped your chin, pulling you close. "I knew it," she confessed, clearly aware of how your restless eyes had been roaming over her after all this time. You'd feel embarrassed by her statement if it weren't for the fact that you've already sunken to the floor for her.

Her grip on your chin tightened while her other hand traced your jaw, brushing your hair from your face. Her eyes gazed at you with a newfound affection and eagerness. Then, without warning or explanation, she closed the space between you both, her lip slightly parted. She moved her hand to the back of your head to grip onto your hair aggressively, her lips against yours, Your nerves were on fire, and your whole body tingled feeling her lips moving against yours.

She pulled away gradually, a line of saliva connecting your lips. She let go of you harshly, which left you feeling as if you'd done something wrong. You look up at her, leaning up and reaching into her holster to pull out her pistol “So, this is what you wanted?” she questions you, looking pretty entertained

You felt embarrassment build up in your stomach but knew it was best to push that down. Besides, Jill Valentine wouldn't tolerate it. You look up at her with an illusion of confidence, “Yes” ma’am” You nod to her,

To your disarray, she responds by laughing in your face.

Your so-called confidence drops. She must think you're pathetic.

Smiling down at you, she praises “Cute.” This was all she needed to say before she ran her fingertip along the trigger of the pistol in her hand. You weren't scared at all. She was a trained professional. There's no way that she could slip up and hurt you. You knew that for sure — you trusted her.

She watched as your needy eyes followed her fingers, dancing over the trigger as you let out an involuntary whimper that immediately had Jill’s eyes darting straight toward you.

She hummed to herself as if she had gotten a sick idea. She pushes you back a bit, exposing your clothed body to her better. You sat back on your elbows, fear, and arousal in your eyes, looking up at her pitifully.

She traced your upper torso with the pistol in a sensuous manner, reaching down with her other hand she testingly unbuttons the top button of your shirt before looking into your eyes as a way to ask you if this was alright, “Please, Jill” the slightest whisper escaping your lips as an answer to her unspoken question.

With a pleased look plastered on her face, she starts unbuttoning the rest, cool air hitting your chest, and stomach, making your back arch slightly to the temperature.

There you were, sprung out across the floor, balancing yourself on your elbows for her with your shirt barely opened and barely clinging to your body. She inched herself closer to kneel between your legs. She was so close to you that it all felt so fucking real, no longer a pathetic fantasy; it was real.

Jill traces your bra with the muzzle of the gun

“I think it's time this goes too. Yeah, honey?”

Her pet name for you made your heart flutter “You should get this off me” You sounded so out of breath it was humiliating.

Jill reached behind you to unhook your bra. You moved around to help her fully take it off of you.

Jill sat back in awe at your half-naked physique below her. She looked so proud of herself as well,

She eyed your tits, watching your chest rise and fall with every breath you took,

You inhale sharply, and your breathing becomes more erratic.

Now she was the one doing all the eye fucking.

She returned to her pistol in hand and began tracing your bare tits. You could feel your nipples harden under the cold metal of the pistol, her other hand shifting down to between your legs.

Using her middle and ring finger, she slides over your clothed pussy which instantly made you gasp and arch and whine out an “Oh, Jill” to her,

She loved the way her name sounded coming from your pretty mouth.

She leaned down to you once again placing a wet kiss on your chest before moving your lips down to your nipples, taking them into her mouth and teasing her teeth over the now overly sensitive bud, you involuntarily squeeze your thighs around her hips which was now snug up against your aching clothed cunt. Fuck, it was torture, you needed more.

she looks up at you while her tongue circles around your hard, sensitive nipple. The intimidation from her gaze alone could break you. You throw your head back with a pathetic cry for her.

She takes that as a request, raising back up she grabs you by your belt hoops and steadied you into place before unbuttoning your pants and practically ripping both your pants and panties off in one go, she discards them to the side for now, as they're no longer needed.

Your body shivered in anticipation, every nerve feeling as if it were on fire. Your pussy is now positioned right in front of Jill’s face as she gets down to its level, your enlarged puffy clit along with the wetness that soaks your folds is only just begging for Jill’s love.

You look down at Jill between your thighs, hand now gripping it harshly,

She sinks in and places an opened-mouth kiss on your clit, you felt completely out of control, your hips twitching causing a new wave of trembling and shivers as you arched and gasped for her.

She passionately licked and sucked on your pussy collecting all the wetness on her tongue before settling down and tongue fucking your entrance,

Shit, it was almost painful how fucking badly you needed this; how badly you needed her.

You grunted, feeling left breathless and heaving, eyes squeezing shut from pure ecstasy, tears slowly trickling down your face,

She broke away from you, “I know what you’d like” she exclaimed before picking her pistol back up and unloading it, before cocking it back and laying the muzzle right against your puffy fucked out clit,

She pulls the trigger of the unloaded pistol, which causes it to pulse heavenly against your clitoris

“Fuck! Fuck.. Fuck!” you shriek out as your elbows lose their balance, and you collapse against the hard, cold ground, thighs rapidly shaking with no control,

“Sweetheart” hearing her sweet voice brought you out of your haze “You need to shut up” Her tone changes, which almost makes you flinch,

The realization hit you then and there that you hadn't even considered the possibility of someone else walking in or hearing you. Your nervous system was instantly flooded with adrenaline, the thought of someone stumbling in and seeing you exposed on the floor with Jill Valentine between your thighs teasing you with her fucking gun caused your breathing to quicken and your throat to become dry.

The sudden awareness of people walking and talking behind the closed door behind you sent a shiver down your spine and caused your breathing to quicken even further. The noise of their footsteps and voices, however, was barely audible over the sound of your own rapid breathing, unfortunately so, it appears to you that you lacked the dignity to do anything about it at the moment and turned back to face Jill.

With the muzzle now wet from your pussy and with the sudden movement of her pulling it away which causes you to shiver and shudder in sudden embarrassment. The pistol was dripping in your wetness, your breath growing hot and heavy, her pulling away only made you want her back more, the tingling sensation in your chest intensified as she forced the muzzle between your now plumped lips,

Fuck, you could taste yourself on it.

You felt your clit twitch as Jill’s other hand creeps back down to between your thighs, her fingers slipping between your folds, filling in your cunt you happily accepted her.

Her fingers slid deep into your pussy to the point where her palm rested against your clitoris.

You began to fuck yourself against Jill’s hand, she began mouth fucking you with her pistol, pumping it in and out between your pretty lips.

“Such a greedy girl” she cooed at you, causing a broken whine muffled by the pistol in your mouth to barely escape your lips

It was all too much; you could feel your saliva dripping down the corners of your mouth where your lips were sore from being stretched over the pistol, the drool trickled down your chin falling onto your chest like a gentle caress, causing a wave of goosebumps to spread across your entire body.

Her fingers started pumping rapidly in and out of your soaked pussy, wet sounds filling the room along with your swift muffled breaths.

As you lie there in her grip, your eyes locked with hers as the sensation builds up deep inside you. By the way, your chest is rising and the broken-up whimpers barely escaping your lips, she knows she’s about to finish you off. She leans over to talk you through this gently and softly spoken “It’s okay love,” she reassures you; she looked so beautiful looking down at you while filling both your mouth and pussy up, her face glistening with a light layer of sweat.

“Don’t fight it, let it build up honey”

her pace fastens which causes your hips to shoot up in shock from the added friction, which only made her fuck her fingers deeper into your soaked cunt.

As you feel the sensation coursing through you, you instinctively shut your eyes and tilt your head back. At that moment, a gentle voice whispers "Sweetheart" to you, like an angel sent to guide you through this moment of distress. "Look at me," the voice continues, "don't think of anything else." You meet her gaze with a furrowed brow, but at that moment, you trust her more than anyone.

The pressure builds inside of you, your body still buzzing from the intense buildup, causing you to involuntarily jolt as Jill pulls her pistol away from your mouth. Instead of the rough, harsh texture of the metal barrel, she replaces it with the soft and gentle touch of her lips, placing them gently against yours.

The kiss is gentle and soft, her warm, soft lips pressed against yours as she whined softly against your mouth. Her eyes fluttering shut, as you gently lift her hair behind her ear and caress her jawline, returning the kiss to her. The closeness and intimacy of the kiss, combined with the built-up pressure and the sudden calm sensation of Jill's soft touch, makes everything feel heavenly for that moment.

Jill pulled back from the kiss and adoringly looked into your blown-out pupils. She watched them widen as your breath hitched and hips stuttered

“Oh, baby, that's right” she praises to you as your pussy clenched around her fingers pumping in and out of you blissfully

You both looked longingly into the eyes of the other as your built-up tension finally washed over you.

You finished hard on her fingers, cum spilling out from your pussy.

Jill allowed you to ride out your high on her fingers until your thighs stopped quivering, and you collapsed against the cold flooring once again.

Every nerve in your body felt numb. She slowly pulled her fingers out of your pussy careful not to cause too much discomfort in you.

You winced at the loss of her inside you, she gave you a grunt in response, looking very satisfied with both you and herself.

She gently lifts your head off the ground and guides you to sit in her lap, “Here baby, I got you” she said comfortingly.

You look up at her. Her expression reads adoration as she smiles down at you affectionately and tenderly.

Your whole body feels drained, but she just holds you, placing soft kisses on your temple until you catch your breath.

She reaches behind you, sliding your bra back on you, kissing your neck as she clasps the back of it. She pulls your shirt on and buttons the front of it without pulling away from placing loving kisses all over your chest first.

"Wait here, sweetheart," she said as she reached behind her to the corner counter beside the coffee machine for some napkins. After retrieving them, she turned back to you and offered to help clean you up. It was a sweet and kind gesture, and in that moment, it felt like she truly was an angel.

After helping you get yourself put back together, Jill helps stand you up and gazes at you with a contented and satisfying look on her face as she buttons your pants for you. Her eyes lock with yours as she leans in to give you one final kiss on the lips, this one feeling different from the rest. The atmosphere around you feels different, the entire room changing in tone with the intensity and emotion of this final kiss. You've never felt so loved and taken care of before, and there is a sense of warmth that washes over you as the kiss ends. You wondered if she felt it as well.

The walk back to the East Office was painful, every nerve in your body was screaming to turn around and go back and be in her arms again. The desire to feel her softly touching you all over like you'd break if she weren't careful, You wondered if she felt the same way, if this was just a one-time thing, or if it meant anything to her at all? I mean for fucks sake she kissed you like you were hers.

You had no time to overthink it as you had a lot of work to finish at your desk.

The routine of the day went on as the work piled up, and the day finally rolled around for you to clock out and head home, a palpable sense of melancholy filling you as the sounds of chatter and footsteps filled the office around you. Walking out of your workstation with head down and eyes forward, you didn't hear the light panting footsteps behind you as you pushed the exit door open.

“Hey!”

The sudden sound of a voice, angelic and familiar, called out your name and filled your ears as you spun around with a startled gasp, meeting her gaze.

“I’d really like to see you again.”

#jill valentine #resident evil #resident evil x reader #jill valentine x reader #jill valentine smut #chris redfield #claire redfield #leon kennedy #ada wong #x reader #smut #carlos oliveira

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 3 months

Text

Marriage of convenience and public sex with Roronoa Zoro

Reader can't join the crew unless she gets married; Zoro decides to help... but they have no idea what such a commitment actually entails.

Roronoa Zoro x reader. NSFW!!!

*****

💚 Having previously been invaded by various foreign armies, your island has voted itself to complete seclusion, in order to protect its people and avoid being attacked again. Even friendly relations with nearby lands have all but been abandoned, and while foreigners have been prohibited from entering, another law dictates that the natives are prohibited from leaving, even for commerce or asking for help in case of famine or natural disasters. In short, your island is a little self-contained world: no one comes in, no one goes out, and in time, knowledge of its very existence has almost been lost.

💚 You are a young warrior, tasked with patrolling the village and keeping peace among the population; you are dedicated to your duties, having sworn to protect your people and your island with your life if need be, but in the privacy of your heart you can’t help wanting more… to explore the world beyond your shores, meet people and lands different from your own, leave the quiet and predictability of the village where you have been born and are probably destined to die, know adventure and even danger. You know your ancestors had the best intentions in choosing a policy of isolation, since foreign armies had brought death and destruction, but you can’t help wishing they had at least allowed the natives to travel freely; while you are generally satisfied with your life, and feel accomplished in your role as a warrior and with the friendships and interests that fill your existence, sometimes you feel suffocating, not unlike a prisoner kept in a tiny cell. By the time you were fifteen, you had already met every person on the island, and seen every little corner of it; you always found a way to keep yourself occupied, training and working and making yourself useful in some way, but at the same time you felt so bored.

💚 Luffy and his crew are the first foreigners who arrive on the island in three centuries, having reached the island in the course of their travels, completely unaware of the deadly fate reserved to trespassers. You meet them when your team is tasked with finding and apprehending them; a battle ensues, in the course of which you and Zoro fight each other, and in the end the Straw Hats are captured and brought to the village. They spend a few days as prisoners, and while most of your people keep away from them, mistrust and tradition making them fear those few, clearly well-intentioned young people could bring about the Gods only know what catastrophe or devastation, you find them fascinating, aware that they mean no harm and found the island completely by accident, after the tide had pushed them to your shores.

💚 You offer yourself to keep an eye on them, patrolling the village’s tiny jail to make sure the prisoners don’t escape and bringing them food, which allows you to become familiar and even friendly with them; Luffy and the others in turn take a liking to you, and gladly tell you about their travels and adventures, which you listen to intently, both awed and envious, and wishing you could do the same, no matter how dangerous it could be - wishing you could be free, as you have always wanted. You find yourself confiding your desire, and your frustration, in Luffy, who is sympathetic, and urges you to follow your heart, instead of allowing a centuries-old law to dictate how to live your life. You explain that, as a warrior part of the village’s guard, you can’t very well defy the rules you have sworn to uphold, even in the remote case you did find a way to leave; but the straw hat-wearing captain simply smiles in return, undeterred by the fact he and the other might be sentenced to death in a matter of days. “If you want you can join my crew; you are a good fighter, and you’re doing your best to take care of us. Instead of just listening to our adventures, why don’t you come living one of your own?”

💚 That night, sleeping proves impossible; you toss and turn in your bed and stare at the ceiling, imagining a future in which you accept Luffy’s offer, and join his crew in taking to the sea, seeing a different dawn every day, meeting people you haven’t known since the day you were born, escaping that mortally boring routine that makes your life feel unworthy to be lived. You can’t, of course; the law is very clear, and no matter how much you wish you could run away, you won’t become a criminal in the eyes of your own people, defying the law you were tasked with enforcing.

💚 While you like listening to Luffy’s stories, and find his enthusiasm and determination in the pursuit of his dreams very endearing, Zoro is the one you feel at ease with the most; you are both trained warriors, and have developed a mutual respect for each other’s strength in the course of the battle. He looks nothing like the men of the island, but you do find him attractive, even though you had never cared much about that sort of thing. Once you are done with your duties, instead of going back home to rest, you sit out of his cell, hand him a drink you have purchased with your own coin (just like you have bought better food for them all, and clothes for Nami, since hers had been torn in the course of the battle and yours don’t fit her; you’d be in serious trouble, or at least accused of a suspicious confidentiality with the prisoners, if you were found out, but that doesn’t stop you) and spend long hours discussing your best fights, the training you received, and the differences in fighting with his swords and your own weapon. Perhaps, you think, you could convince the village’s council to let the others go, if Zoro remains and joins your team: he’d be a great addition to the troops, and you’d be happy to fight by his side. But you doubt he would ever leave his friends, especially Luffy, to whom he has sworn allegiance; that is a thing you can respect, even admire, and in your heart, you pray your Gods to spare them, so that they can return to their ship (the largest you have ever seen, a giant compared to the small dinghies used by the island’s fishermen; after all what use could large ships be, if you are forbidden from sailing more than a few yards from the shore?) and to their wandering, exciting life, while you remain at home.

💚 In the end, the day before the village’s council is meant to gather to decide what to do with Zoro and the others, an enemy army invades the island, its general aiming to conquer the treasure they believe your village is guarding. The councilmen insist the treasure has been stolen already, by the last enemy that invaded you centuries ago, but the army wreaks havoc in the village, destroying your houses and taking the people prisoners. You and the other warriors oppose them valiantly, but everything would be lost if not for Luffy and the others, who you have taken the initiative of freeing, begging them to help you; thank all the Gods, Luffy, Zoro and Sanji weren’t lying when they told you about their fighting abilities, and Usopp and Nami find a way to destroy many of the enemy’s weapons. You and Zoro fight side by side as you had hoped you would, defending each other and joining forces to face a large number of enemies. In the end, the enemy army is forced to flee and the island is saved, largely thanks to the Straw Hat Pirates’ intervention.

💚 Grateful, the councilmen decide to allow Luffy and the others to go, but when the captain asks them to allow you to leave with them, they refuse; the recent invasion has demonstrated their ancestors were right in believing the outside world could bring nothing but trouble and danger, and they are reticent to let one of their own leave the safety of the island; what’s more, you are one of their best warriors, and they need you to stay and protect their people. Helpless angers fills your eyes with tears, frustration and disappointment heavy on your heart, when suddenly one of the council members (the only woman, a sort-of friend of yours) tells you in confidence that there is a way for you to be allowed to leave, using a different law to oppose the island’s isolationist policy. According to your rules, when a couple marries a woman has to move in with her husband, either in his family’s home or in a new one he has built for them; until a few centuries ago, when your homeland still enjoyed close relations with other islands, many women moved to it to live with their spouses. “Now, a ship is not properly a house, but your pirate friends do live in it, and among them there are four men; do you think one of them would be willing to marry you, (name)? In that case, you would be free, even required, to move in with your husband, and depart since the council has ruled to let them go!”

💚 It’s a good idea; a very ingenious one, and while you have always found it unfair that your law puts a woman under her husband’s (or her father’s, her brother’s, or even her son’s) authority, strongly limiting her autonomy and rights, it feels appropriate to use those very customs and traditions to realise your dreams of freedom. On the other hand, marriage is no small matter: even if the union were in name only, and your husband left you free to live your life as you liked, pledging yourself to a man you have only known for a few days feels… weird. Wrong, even; you are usually not the romantic type, and have never given much thought to the possibility of marrying and raising a family, but what if one day you do want to do it, after meeting the right person? And what if one day your husband falls in love with someone else, and is unable to marry them? He would probably come to resent you, and regret his decision to help you, and for that you could never forgive yourself. Also, even if you asked them, you’re not sure your new friends could help you; none of them has ever mentioned a spouse, and in that case why aren’t they living together?, but perhaps either Luffy or one of the others have their eyes set on someone…

💚 You’re sitting on a large rock on the outskirts of the village, mulling over your problem and feeling too embarrassed to even just ask your new friends for help, when suddenly you’re no longer alone. “Scoot over.” Zoro tells you, his attitude not brusque but direct, just like you like it, as he approaches, and you obey, making space for him and his swords on the rock. “How is your arm?” you ask, referring to a superficial, but still dangerous for a swordsman, wound he had received during the battle; Zoro shrugs and explains that one of the village’s doctors has already seen him, and that the wound will heal perfectly in a matter of weeks. “The lady from the council came to talk to us.” he adds after a moment, which you should have expected; you and Zoro may have become friendly, but he doesn’t seem the sort of man who simply looks for another’s company without having something important to discuss “What are you planning to do?”

💚 You have no idea; but you know what you are doing right now, that is, blushing furiously. No matter how grateful you are for her help, you wish the councilwoman had let you deal with the matter, embarrassed and even humiliated of having to ask for the help of the pirates your people are already so much indebted to. “I am so sorry, this is… this is a nightmare.” you admit with a sigh “The truth is… getting married to one of you is my only chance of leaving this island, and living the life I have always wanted; but it would change the life of one of you as well as mine, and ever since you came here, we have been giving you nothing but troubles, I can’t…”

💚 “It’s all right, (name).” “No, it’s not. You don’t understand, I don’t even want to get married, I can’t ask a person I have only known for a few days to…” “It’s all right, I tell you; I… I can do it. I can marry you.”

💚 Zoro, sure of his decision and still slightly tense, looks at you, waiting for your reaction, but for a whole minute you simply stare at him, too flabbergasted to utter a single word. “... are you serious?” you whisper in the end, and Zoro shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t really care for marriage either, I don’t think I’ll ever want a wife or children, and this would be… only a formality, right? We wouldn’t have to… live like a couple, sleep together and all that. So in the end it doesn’t really matter, right?” he points out; you nod, because strictly speaking he is right, and whatever the two of you will do once the Straw Hat Pirates’s ship has left the island’s shores won’t matter, but at the same time, even though Zoro is old enough to decide for himself, you feel guilty for all the trouble you’re about to cause him. “And you would do this for me? A week ago you didn’t even know me…” “We fought together; where I’m from, that counts for something. I have left my village as well, in order to improve as a swordsman and become the best; I can’t imagine what I would have done, if I had been forced to remain. So in a sense… I’m doing it because I wish someone had done the same for me, were I in your place. I know that… sounds weird…”

💚 It does, perhaps, but not for you, it makes perfect sense and it’s a decision worthy of the man you had already perceived Zoro to be; neither of you is used, or inclined, to physical contact, but you can’t help it, and a moment later you have thrown yourself in his arms, holding him with a sudden, fierce affection you had never experienced before. Give me just a year in the world, you ask the Gods in your heart, just a month, even; and then I’ll give my life to save this man’s, if he needs it. “Thank you.” you whisper, aware of how small those words sound compared to what you feel, the gratitude so deep and encompassing it hurts “I… I can’t begin to tell you how much this matters to me; you are literally saving my life. Whatever happens, I will be in your debt forever; I’ll never forget this, Zoro. I promise.” Zoro is not used to being hugged, by a woman even less, but after a moment of embarrassment he rests his hand on your shoulder; it’s almost as if you were hugging each other. “It’s all right; after all, it’s just a ceremony. Can we get this over with quickly, so we can depart?”

💚 You’re so excited, and anxious to depart before some other obstacle prevents you from fulfilling your dream, that you wish the two of you could call Zoro’s friends to act as witnesses and get married right now; in the end, the wedding is scheduled for the next morning, and while aware he’s only doing you a favour and the marriage will be all but forgotten once you leave the island, Luffy and the others are enthusiastic about it, and insist on doing things as is appropriate in a situation like this; the boys bring Zoro to a tavern to get him drunk, while Nami accompanies you to the island’s hot springs, to pamper yourselves and make you look your best. That night you couldn’t sleep even if your life depended on it; you spend it preparing a bag with the few things you intend to take with you, and taking a night walk to say goodbye in your heart to the places that have seen you be born and grow, and that despite everything you will always carry with you.

💚 And then, almost sneaking up on you, the sun rises, and it’s your wedding day. You meet Zoro at the council house; knowing the potency of the island’s alcohol you were afraid he would feel sick after a drunken night, but he seems in excellent health, and extremely handsome in the black wedding attire prepared by the island’s men, his three swords by his side as usual. “You… look very good.” you murmur, suddenly shy like you have never felt in your life, and “You too. I mean, not to say that… you usually don’t, just… ah, you know what I mean.” he whispers back, which makes you smile; you’re wearing your mother old wedding dress, and while you’re not the famed beauty she was known to be, you do feel unusually pretty and you’re glad your groom approves. After all, even though you’ll have left the island behind you in a few hours, you don’t want to make Zoro look bad, having the men of the island say his bride is not attractive.

💚 Your fellow warriors and Zoro’s crew surround you as witnesses as the councilwoman leads the rite; you and Zoro use a ceremonial weapon to cut the palm of both your hands and then press them against each other, mixing your blood with his. Your heart is pounding, and even though you keep reminding yourself this is not a real wedding, not a real marriage, that Zoro is only doing you a favour and the moment you depart from the island you will be free to forget the whole ordeal and even begin a new relationship if you so desire, it doesn’t feel like it; after all, you’re calling your Gods as witnesses of your union, promising in front of them to love, protect and support Zoro for the rest of your days - which you do plan to do, you’ll be happy to, just in a completely platonic way. You know in your heart you will be forgiven for the sort-of deception you are carrying out, exploiting what should be a ceremony focused on love to fulfil your wish to get away from the island and explore the world, but then why do you feel like this? Why is your heart full of… trepidation, in a sense, excitement and a sliver of fear, as if you were committing yourself to something you don’t know the full consequences of, destined to change your life much more than you expect…?

💚 Looking at Zoro doesn’t reassure you, since he looks even more shaken than you feel; he is pale, almost struggling to breathe and apparently unable to meet your eyes while you formally pledge yourselves to each other, but his voice is confident as he speaks the words, and when he takes your hand to mix your blood his grasp is firm, not so much it hurts you but determined, and that is enough to make your hesitation disappear, and an happy smile blossom on your lips… until a moment later, when the councilwoman invites you to share a kiss to seal your union. You and your groom share a look, and for a moment you are sure he’s about to dash, leaving you and your broken dreams behind him… and then his eyes fill with determination. “May I?” he murmurs, and you nod silently, and then his cool, chapped lips press against yours, and that is not your first kiss (even though the list is embarrassingly short) but it’s your first with him, and it’s your wedding kiss, and that makes it special beyond any possibility of trivialisation. Your friends are clapping, the councilwoman is binding your hands together with a cord, but you have become blind, and deaf, to all of it; the only thing you perceive in this moment is Zoro, and your heart racing in your chest.

💚 “The claiming ceremony will take place in the square in an hour.” the councilwoman announces, and the other warriors rejoice once more, while Zoro’s friends look perplexed - just like him. “What is the claiming ceremony?” he asks in a whisper as you depart from the council house, the short procession of your friends following you “Isn’t the wedding over?” “Of course; now it’s time for the second part, where we demonstrate our commitment to each other.” you explain to a more and more perplexed Zoro. “You mean it’s… some kind of test? Do I have to face your father in a fight to the death to prove I am worthy of being your husband or something like that?” “Of course not; we have to sleep together in front of the whole village.” you explain, equally surprised you need to; this is how weddings are conducted on the island since time immemorial, unless the spouses are advanced in age or in the case of a physical impediment, and the possibility that other places in a vast, diverse world might do things differently hadn’t even crossed your mind. (It does now, for what it’s worth.) “In this way our bodies will be one as well as our minds and hearts, our flesh married just like our spirits.” “And… we really can’t do without it, can we?” “Of course not; the vows and the blood mixing are little more than a formality, it is the claiming ceremony that makes a marriage valid; you… you didn’t know? Isn’t this how weddings are conducted where you lived?”

💚 You are now standing outside the council house, your friends having left you to enjoy a moment of privacy before the ceremony. Zoro looks appalled, shocked, and while he didn’t betray, and feel, an ounce of fear while, during your recent battle, he found himself surrounded by eight enemies thirsty for his blood, now… now he’s terrified. Making a huge effort to remain calm, he explains to you that no, this is nothing like the weddings he was used to in his village, and any marriage ceremony he has ever heard of; usually the physical part of the affair is conducted privately, and is technically not necessary for the validity of the union. He had no idea this would happen, you realise with horror; how could you not think about it? Your island, its traditions and way of life, are everything you have ever known, and Zoro hails from a very far away land. How could you not realise that what is ordinary and common for you might not be the norm in other places, and that your idea of marriage, and of wedding, could not perfectly match his? This poor man simply expected to have to utter a few words, a chaste kiss at most, and now finds out he has to… to perform in front of dozens of people, virtual strangers and his friends both! No wonder he looks horrified!

💚 “Listen, if you want to… reconsider, I’ll accept it.” you tell him; knowing that the prospect of having sex with you outweighs Zoro’s evident strength of character and determination would be more than a little embarrassing, but still, you will not force this man to have sex with you against his will. No dream is worth that; not even your freedom “It must be… traumatising for someone who wasn’t expecting it, not to mention you barely know me; if you feel uncomfortable with it, Zoro, I understand…” He looks at you. “Won’t it be uncomfortable for you? I mean, maybe for your people this is normal, or even pleasant…?” he asks, curious, and you admit that no matter how in love with their partner, and proud of their body and sexual prowess, they are, most married people do not think back fondly to the claiming ceremony, which is usually an uncomfortable, embarrassing obligation, to carry out simply because it can’t be helped, as quickly and simply as they can, reserving the rest for a more intimate setting. Most couples sleep together before the ceremony, because no one wants their first time with their spouse to be witnessed by the whole community, and while it is normal and even appreciated for friends and family to be present at the claiming ceremony of a loved one, most spectators feel no pleasure in it. “Listen, let’s… let’s forget the whole matter, alright? This is absurd, I don’t know why I accepted… you don’t deserve this, Zoro, this will be unpleasant in the best of cases and traumatic in the worst, I can’t ask you…”

💚 “I’ll do it.” “... what?” “Yeah, it doesn’t matter; I mean, it’s weird and I’d rather not to, but I don’t want to let you down, and we’re already halfway there.” Zoro points out; he’s not looking at you, again “After all, like the whole wedding, it doesn’t really matter, does it? It’s not like doing it with… with your partner, or a person you care for.” You nod in response, overwhelmed, and then the two of you part, Zoro to talk to his friends (who have just been briefed by yours about what the claiming ceremony entails, and who wear matching expressions of shock and horror) and you to the closest solitary place you can find, to fight a sudden panic attack.

💚 An hour later, you and Zoro are face to face once more, on a slightly raised altar that has been quickly prepared in the village’s main square; your friends, and relatives, and literally anyone who you have ever known since birth surround you, and while it is true that no one present will take advantage of the occasion to look at your intimate parts and you will all feel happier and relieved once the whole ordeal is over, you feel… how? Upset? Excited? Simply anxious to get over it? Perhaps all three things together, a peculiar, nameless sensation you had already felt, years ago, before your first battle, when the fear for your life mingled with the joy for the moment you had trained for since childhood. This is a battle as well; and you will bleed, but your comrade in arms will be by your side, and the two of you will protect each other like you have done already. Drawing strength from that thought, you walk to the centre of the altar, where Zoro meets you; complete silence has fallen on the square, your people respecting the moment’s importance and sacrality. You look at each other for a moment, and then Zoro takes off his robe, that falls on the floor around his feet, and you hurry to do the same, and then you are both naked like the day you were born, and all you can do is look at each other. Many of your fellow warriors are strong, athletic men, but you have never seen any of them like this, and you feel yourself blush as you admire Zoro’s strong, deliciously masculine body, a shiver running through you as you see it reacting to your nudity, his dark eyes set on the area between your thighs.

💚 “I… I am not sure what we should do.” you confess in a whisper, and a smile brushes against Zoro’s lips. “Me neither.” he admits, and those words, the admission that this is the first time for both, fills your heart with an unexpected, fierce feeling of tenderness, a protective instinct you didn’t expect to experience towards a man who can clearly hold his own against the most dangerous opponents “Maybe… maybe we should simply go with the flow, you know? Let our instincts guide us.” You agree, and when in a whisper Zoro asks permission to kiss you again, you nod, eager and even relieved, and a moment later your bodies are pressed against each other, your mouths made one once again; you can feel Zoro’s erection pressed against your thigh, and this is already miles beyond what you had ever done before with a man, beyond what you had ever wanted to do, but knowing that that very part of his body will be inside you in a matter of minutes makes you feel… well, desirous, almost hungry, for things you don’t even have a name for. You moan out loud when you feel Zoro’s lips descend to your throat, sucking and gently biting, and instinctively wanting to return the courtesy you slip a hand between your bodies, quickly finding his erection; perhaps you should have asked permission, just like he did, but you don’t have the time to consider your own inappropriateness because Zoro is whimpering against you, rutting his hips against your hand in a wordless invite not to stop, please, keep going, this is so good…

💚 You feel the crowd murmuring around you, approvingly or with some other sentiment you don’t care; long forgotten are the embarrassment and self-consciousness you had feared you would feel now, you don’t care about them, you don’t even care if your friends and compatriots were to spend days discussing the attractiveness of your body and your skills as a lover. All you care for, all you can focus on, is Zoro, who you were already grateful for the way out he is offering you from the restrictive prison of the island, but who you never thought would also give you something so special and precious. You want it to be good for him as well, you decide as you palm his heavy, hard erection, suddenly feeling yourself burning for it, for him; you want to be good for him, you want to give him pleasure and joy and make the whole matter worth it. “Fuck, (name)...” Zoro whispers, and then he moans again when he sees you kneel, meet his eyes for a moment to make sure he is alright with it (it is) and then awkwardly but hungrily take him in your mouth. He tastes acrid, vaguely pungent, and delicious; you feel his hands in your hair, and while he utters no more words, his groaning and moaning reassure you you are doing a good job.

💚 The altar has been furnished with a bedding made of soft blankets and pillows; it is on that that Zoro gently lays you down, his agile but strong body quickly covering yours, a hand on the back of your head to protect it. Your hands move on his body, Zoro’s skin hot and taut, as if he were straining to control his impulses and not simply devour you and fuck you to the ground, his chest and shoulders and hips, and he is so handsome and sensual and masculine, you can’t wait to be one with him; you want him, you realize, the feeling both terrifying and inebriating, you want Zoro to take you and share his pleasure with him. You want him to scream your name, to make him harder than he has ever been… and to make him come so hard he will never forget this moment. Yours is not a love match, not a proper wedding; but this is real, genuine and a source of joy, and you want it to matter.

💚 Emboldened, you open your legs, letting Zoro observe what exactly his generosity is earning him. “Take me.” you whisper; you can see his hard cock standing proudly against his belly, and you feel a sort of exciting, until-now-unknown sense of pride knowing that it is you, your body and the way you were able to stimulate him, that is responsible for that transformation “Zoro, please… I want you. I want you so much.”

💚 Zoro roars.

💚 He’s kissing you again, hungry and lascivious, while he clumsily tries to find the right position to enter you. You instinctively find a way, lifting one of your legs around his hips, and Zoro is murmuring your name as he finally takes his hard cock in his hand; a moment later you can feel his head pressing against the opening between your legs. You would have imagined both of you were beyond words at this time, instinct and passion having overcome the capacity for intelligible speech, but he meets your eyes and “If I hurt you…” he whispers; he’s already struggling to control himself “Just tell me… I can stop…” He’s clearly sincere, even worried his impetuosity and ardour could end up harming you, and tenderness fills your heart. You kiss him once more and “I don’t want you to stop.” you whisper; you are soaking wet, much more than on the few occasions you have touched yourself in the privacy of your home, and you feel happy, even proud, that he can feel it - feel the effect he has on you, like you have seen and tasted the one you have on him “Zoro, please, I’m yours… make love to me, I want to feel you...”

💚 He does, and you do, so much and so hard in the end you are screaming, and Zoro screams with you, he screams your name, as he pounds into you, his messy and hungry kisses leaving a trail of fire on your mouth and skin as you cling to his biceps (he has well-muscled arms, as was to be expected from a swordsman) and circle his hips with your legs, your embrace so tight you can barely perceive where one ends and the other begins, and still you’re not satisfied, because you want more, you want to be one with him, not for a few, magical minutes, a joyful, pleasurable experience you already know won’t happen again, but forever, viscerally, so that neither of you will ever forget this, the intoxicating, intimate feeling of giving oneself completely and uncompromisingly, a complete exchange from which you are both made richer. Zoro is more than well-endowed, and this being your first time it does hurt, no matter how wet you were for him, but that pain is only a drop in the sea, even pleasurable in its own right, and you barely notice it, too engrossed as you are in the intense sensations Zoro is gifting you. Push after push he gets closer, to what you could not describe but you feel it, you feel you are approaching your climax, your body already singing, and you both can’t wait for it and wish this would last longer, just a minute more, because you’re not satisfied, not yet full, and you want him more, you want all of him and you want him to have all of you…

💚 All around, the whole village is witnessing your union, with Luffy and the others in the front row. The Straw Hat Pirates are among the very few aware of the true nature of your and Zoro’s pact, while most of the others are convinced you and the swordsman have fallen madly in love with each other after fighting side by side and he asked for your hand to have you follow him in his travels with the crew; but even they, aware (or perhaps just convinced?) that he’s just doing a person he has fought with a favour, can’t deny what they are witnessing is completely different… awkwardness and fervour mixed in one, two people grappling with feelings they did not expect to experiment but that they can’t help to follow, passion born of an instinctive empathy and the raw desire for a person offering themselves completely to them. Would you feel the same if, say, Luffy were in Zoro’s place, or he with another of the village’s women? You don’t know, you have no way of knowing; what you know is that he is with you, and you with him, and you have never felt so happy and blessed in all your years.

💚 Zoro moves relentlessly inside you, claiming your body and at the same time offering himself to you; you are both sharing a piece of your very soul with each other, and this is precious and terrifying at the same time. He moans when he feels your hands move on his body (his muscled shoulders and arms, his soft hair, the firm roundness of his backside) and “Yes, touch me.” he whispers between a sloppy, ardent kiss and the other “Touch me, (name)... it’s… it’s so good… so warm… I’m getting close… I-I am gonna… (name)...”

💚 Maybe it is the undaunted pushing of his hips inside you; maybe it is the simple sensation of his sweet mouth worshipping yours, kissing every inch of your body it can reach; maybe it’s the sound of your own name falling from his lips, because no one has ever pronounced it like this, with so much passion, with awe and jealousy, as if you were something precious he didn’t intend to share with anyone. Whatever the reason, the last ounces of self-control leave you, and your first true orgasm hits you, violent, irresistible, and utterly satisfying. You cry Zoro’s name, holding on to him in the instinctive fear the wave of pleasure might destroy you, and feeling your body tremble around him is enough to push your groom beyond the brink as well; a satisfied, relieved moan, a last look of his awed, sweet eyes, and you feel Zoro spill inside you, his whole body shaking. He falls on you, his cheek pressed on your breast, and remains like that, savouring that sweet sensation of intimacy, your fingers in his hair and the warmth of your body surrounding him, for what seems like hours to both. In the end, he lifts his head to smile at you; no one has seen him smile like that since he was perhaps seven, the childlike wonder that something so amazing could happen to him. “Hello, wife.” he murmurs, and your laugh is pure happiness.

💚 The whole village, not to mention the other Straw Hat Pirates, have witnessed the whole event; no one speaks, most of those present aware it would be inappropriate, almost blasphemous, to disturb what is clearly a magical, intimate moment. In the end, the councilmen approach to inspect the two of you, an essential part of the ceremony but that, on the two of you, has the same effect of a cold shower: you stiffen, suddenly aware of how exposed you are, while Zoro looks away, the intimacy of a moment ago already forgotten. Embarrassment falls on you both while he slowly, carefully pulls back, separating the two of you; someone hands you the robe you gratefully accept, because suddenly you are cold, too cold for a warm summer night, and you felt no pain, so why do you suddenly have to fight back tears?

💚 A minute later you are both standing, and clothed, once more, on either side of the councilwoman as she declares the ceremony complete and valid, to the exultation of the village and the cautious, awkward approval of Luffy and the others, who are wondering how they’ll be able to look Zoro in the face from now on. You are married, you think numbly; you can feel his semen drip down your thigh, still dazed with the intensity of your shared, already distant, passion. You are Zoro’s wife and he is your husband, and whatever happens from now on, whatever path the two of you may take, this is a truth that you will never be able to forget.

💚 The next morning, you and Zoro meet with the council, and you are formally permitted to leave the island together with your husband. Your life dream is finally becoming reality, you should feel happy, and you are, you are delighted and excited, but you cannot ignore the awkwardness between you and Zoro, a perhaps normal situation given the circumstances, but still unpleasant given the quiet harmony that had existed between the two of you until last night, a silence neither felt the need to fill with words or actions. Having left the council house, you take a little walk together, tacitly deciding you need a moment for the two of you. “So… is everything alright?” Zoro asks in the end, unsure, and you nod. “I have met with the islands’ doctors and made sure I did not get pregnant last night.” you explain, which Zoro admits is a good thing; absurd but true, the possibility of getting you pregnant had never even crossed his mind, but a child is obviously something you are both unprepared for. “Actually, I meant to say… I didn’t hurt you, did I? I’m sorry, I… perhaps it’s stupid, but I had never… done it before, so I don’t know…”

💚 You look at him, your heart once more full of tenderness and fierce affection for this brave young man, whose kindness and generosity are carefully kept hidden but you have already perceived. “I am fine, thank you.” you answer; you are about to say you feel more than fine, actually, since you can’t stop thinking about what the two of you shared last night and given the way your husband blushes every time your eyes meet you are pretty sure he won’t be able to forget your wedding ceremony anytime soon either, but a moment later you realise the less you talk about it, the better you will both feel. The fact that you enjoyed what happened on the altar is a good thing, not to mention probably natural given the fact sex is meant to be pleasurable, but your union was a necessary requirement, not something you had chosen willingly, and considering you and your husband (you and Zoro; you need to stop thinking about him like that!) will be travelling together from now on, you need to remember you are comrades in arms and friends, and nothing more, or life on the ship will be unbearable. “Zoro, I… I can’t thank you enough for this; you have made my greatest dream come true, and for that I know I’ll be in your debt forever.” “I haven’t done it because I expected something in return.” “I know; I’m sorry, what I’m trying to say is…” you begin, and then you hesitate, because you don’t fully know either “... that I think we can remain good friends forever; and that whatever happens, I’ll never forget what you have done for me.”

💚 For a moment you could swear you have seen disappointment filling Zoro’s brown eyes; but then he smiles, briefly but genuinely, and answers that being friends sounds good, and having another trained warrior in the crew is even better.

💚 An hour later the ship is leaving the island’s shores. You wave your hand, saying good-bye to the people and the land that have been your world until now, the wind playing with your hair; Zoro is standing with you on the Merry’s deck, and finds himself unable to look away. “No regrets?” he inquires after a while; you shake your head, because it’s a little early for a change of mind, but even in a month, or a year, or a decade, you know you’ll never doubt you have done the right choice… nor the deep, sudden affection for the man by your side. “None.” you reassure him; you are smiling, and Zoro has never seen something so beautiful in his nineteen years “I can’t wait to see what the future may bring.”

💚 The next weeks are hectic, and often dangerous, as you finally begin your journey into the world. You quickly become fond (well, fonder) of the rest of the crew, who easily welcome you in their midst; the hypothesis of leaving to travel on your own, which is what you had planned on doing if you ever found a way to leave the island, is quickly, tacitly set aside, and soon you consider yourself a Straw Hat Pirate in all respects, utterly devoted to your captain and your new friends. You fight side by side with your crewmates, explore new places, meet new people; you feel happy, hopeful, satisfied, maybe for the first time in your life as an adult. Really, you couldn’t find a reason to be upset or saddened even if you tried, except for a tiny, mostly irrelevant but still hard to ignore detail… that is, your relationship with your - with Zoro.

💚 Most of the time things are fine between the two of you. You have tacitly decided never to speak of your marriage, and your wedding ceremony specifically, again, and to simply consider each other a comrade and a friend, a sibling in arms you enjoy fighting side by side with; you sleep in different rooms (you with Nami, he with the other guys), help each other with your training and immediately look for each other in times of danger, making sure you are both ready to defend your comrades. At night, when the others are sleeping and darkness envelops the ship, you like to sit on the deck, a drink in your hands and your eyes lost in the immensity of the starry sky above you (different from the one you admired in your village, but equally breathtaking) as you reflect on the events of the day and enjoy the freedom of the sea, that after months you are still unable to take for granted. You like those moments, and you like them even more when Zoro joins you, sitting by your side, and as you pass the bottle sometimes you talk, discussing matters of the present and of the past, but mostly you keep silent, simply enjoying each other’s presence as your shoulder brushes against his.

💚 He tells you about Kuina, and about Mihawk, who he fought shortly before meeting you; in turn, you tell him about the loss of your parents, a painful subject you had been unable to share with anyone until now. Having spent your entire life within the familiar, limited borders of the island, you are sometimes too inexperienced or naive to understand the events or the people around you, and when it happens Zoro intervenes to help, but you never feel belittled or treated with condescension. You trust him, respect him, sincerely enjoy his company, and more importantly you know he feels the same for you; you’re not the sort of people who discuss feelings, but you soon come to consider Zoro your dearest friend.

💚 Which at one point proves to be a problem, because as far as you know people don’t lust after their friends, do they?

💚 You simply can’t help it. After all you couldn’t forget your wedding ceremony, and the passionate, intense sex it entailed, even if you tried, and while the embarrassment between you is fortunately soon forgotten and your friends are kind enough not to joke about it, you sometimes struggle to ignore the memories that moment brings. A few weeks after you joined the crew, at the beginning of a particularly hot day, leaving the girls’ cabin you find Zoro training on the deck, his shirt discarded on the floor. His torso is already bathed in sweat, a view you never thought you would find enticing; and yet, you suddenly feel unable to look away, your eyes avidly drinking the sight in front of you: his muscles tense with the effort, his flat stomach, his strong arms and shoulders… you had seen that already, and much more, as you lay together on the altar, but nonetheless you find yourself swallowing, caught by a sudden desire to just reach for him and touch, to feel the firmness and warmth of Zoro’s skin under your hands, to caress it, maybe even to…

💚 … and then suddenly Zoro, until now focused on his pushups and who seemed not to have noticed your appearance, turns to look at you, an eyebrow raised as if he were wondering what you are doing, just standing there; a moment later his eyes, and his mouth, open wide, as if he had perceived the lurid, less-than-friendly thoughts you are entertaining. You feel blushing furiously, blabber some kind of excuse, and quickly retreat, opting to remain out of his way for the next two hours. When you meet later, you once again pretend nothing happened, and you desperately try to forget it; unfortunately you can’t, but in the end, should you really be surprised? Zoro is an objectively attractive man, and you have already been intimate; it is normal that you still feel attracted to him, and instinctively wish you could… repeat the experience, preferably in the more private setting of the spare cabin on the ship. Who knows, perhaps… perhaps he feels the same about you…

💚 Determined not to ruin your and Zoro’s friendship, you decide to ignore that uncomfortable-but-sort-of-pleasant urge, which at first simply means keeping away from him when he is even partially unclothed. You still occasionally feel your eyes linger on him, even when he’s fully dressed (on the tight fit of the shirt on his shoulders, on the expressive beauty of his eyes, and how come you never noticed what a lovely, firm little bottom he has…?), but otherwise you are fine, and as your bond deepens, as you get used to his quiet, comforting presence by your side, Zoro’s hand brushing against your arm when he wants to quietly attract your attention on something or that way he has to ask you if you’re alright with a single glance, without the need for words, you feel happy and grateful that he’s part of your life… and think that one day, when he’ll finally give his heart to someone, there won’t be a more blessed person in the world.

💚 Speaking of potential partners, Zoro never seemed interested in relationships, and doesn’t even notice the looks of admiration he regularly receives. “I don’t have time for a partner.” he curtly explains when you ask him “And since we never stop in a place for more than a few days I couldn’t maintain a relationship in any case, right?” His reasoning makes sense, even though, for some reason, you feel suddenly shy… as if you were the one who had been propositioned. A few nights later, Zoro meets another swordmaster at a bar, and the two of them spend hours talking about their weapons, past battles and the like - and flirting, at least on the other person’s part, since they keep touching Zoro’s naked arm and pressing their leg against his under the table. Your friend doesn’t notice, as usual, but you do, and that makes you feel… weird; lonely, abandoned, even, and while you tell yourself it is simply because you and Zoro usually hang out together when your crew goes out for drinks, your hearts tells you otherwise, and you can’t help wishing you were in the swordsman’s position, Zoro’s attention focused on you… and brave enough to be so brazen in expressing your interest. “What’s wrong? You seem upset.” Zoro points out later when you’re all going back to the ship; you simply shrug, both unable and unwilling to share the reason for your bad mood, for the instinctive but petty resentment you feel towards your friend, and that fills you with shame since Zoro has done nothing to earn it.

💚 The next night, the town is celebrating a festival. To avoid being left alone again, you ask Nami’s help and buy a new dress to wear for the occasion; it is much more daring than what you are used to, and while the others compliment you, Zoro simply looks away, and you’re pretty sure you’ve seen him blushing. At the festival, your dress does have the desired effect, because a few people show interest towards you. A young man seems especially taken, since he asks you to dance, escorts you to a stand to grab something to eat and then invites you on a walk to a nearby pond. He’s good company and his clear interest flatters you, but in the end you gently reject him when he tries to kiss you, aware that your heart is not into it. Nevertheless, you feel happy when you go back to the others… and meet Zoro, who is fuming. “Where is your boyfriend?” he sneers “Gone to get you a drink?” You see regret in his eyes as soon as those hurtful words leave his lips, but the damage is done, and the two of you don’t speak or look at each other for the rest of the night.

💚 You spend an almost sleepless night (again), grappling with feelings that have never been so clear, and terrifying, in your mind. You do care for Zoro, you feel happier and content when he’s by your side, you can’t help feeling attracted to him and fantasising about repeating the experience of your wedding day, and feel jealous when someone else expresses an interest in him; you like him - really like him, as much more than just a friend and a comrade in arms, and while you’d feel happy with a purely platonic relationship, you can’t help wishing for something else. Does Zoro feel the same? You can’t rule that out, especially given how annoyed he looked after you had spent the evening with another person, but what if you want different things? Maybe he only does consider you a friend, but still hasn’t forgotten what you shared that night on the altar; you couldn’t resent him for that, even though the possibility of being desired, as a sexual partner and nothing more, would paradoxically break your heart.

💚 When you join the others the next morning, you are not particularly surprised to discover Zoro has left soon after dawn, announcing he’ll be back in a while and wants to be left alone. “What happened? Did you two have a fight?” Luffy asks, and you shrug helplessly in reply, not quite sure of it yourself. You spend the following hours hard at work, helping your crewmates repay the damages the Sunny had sustained during a recent battle, and then preparing a speech for when you’ll face Zoro - which will have to be soon, since you are set to sail in the morning and then avoiding each other will be impossible. Having grown up without a mother or another close female relative, you don’t really know how to approach the subject, but after reflecting on it for a while you admit to yourself that no matter how close the two of you are and how much you trust him, you are not ready to confess your feelings to Zoro, not until you have strong reason to believe they are reciprocated, both because that would ruin things between you, potentially forever… and because you simply lack the courage to, and would rather face a hundred enemies unharmed than risk being turned down. On the other hand, it will probably be impossible to pretend you don’t feel anything for him, both because you have always been a terrible liar and you can’t very well make a fool of yourself any time Zoro takes his shirt off. The only possibility, you decide in the end, is something warriors like you are often unable to do: to compromise… and hope things develop from there.

💚 It is mid-afternoon when Zoro finally returns, reaching the small harbour you are docked at; he ignores Nami, who is chewing his ears off for leaving the others at work while he went who knows where, and waves at you. “Can you come down for a minute?” he asks “I have something to tell you.” You obey, both relieved and nervous, and follow Zoro away from the most crowded area of the harbour; he doesn’t talk, but you notice he’s hiding something behind his back, making sure you cannot see what. In the end, and after you had to retrace your steps twice, you reach a small berth, almost hidden among overgrown bushes. Zoro turns to look at you, more serious than you have ever seen him, and suddenly you are sure this is the day you are going to lose him forever, that he’s going to tell you that while he cares about your friendship he feels too uncomfortable with being reminded of your wedding ceremony, and perhaps, since he was there first and he’s the Straw Hat Pirates’ first officer, you should leave the crew and go your own way, like you had planned to do initially… “Wait!” you stop him when Zoro is about to speak; you have never felt fear in battle, not even when the odds were overwhelmingly against you, but right now you’re shaking, utterly terrified you are going to lose the person you love (yes, love; you couldn’t say when you have fallen for him exactly, when he offered to help you realise your dream no matter the commitment and the embarrassment required of him or in some other moment, but it is true, you would wage your life on it, and while you haven’t given up hope that Zoro will one day return your feelings, you would be ready to do whatever it takes in order to keep him in your life) more than any other you have ever met “I… I have something to tell you as well; something important. Please, may I go first?”

💚 A moment of uncertainty, and then Zoro nods, tense and… vaguely hopeful? “I… I know we had sort of decided to forget what happened that day on the altar, and that we are married, to simply be crewmates and comrades in arms; believe me, these last months have been the happiest in my life, in no small part because of you, Zoro. I…” I love you, fully and desperately. I want to be important for you, I want to be your partner, as well as your best friend and fellow warrior. Zoro, I want to be your wife. “... I have never cared about anyone like I care about you, and… while I’d be happy with being your friend forever, I can’t deny I am attracted to you, I think you are very handsome and… I fantasise about us kissing and touching each other and making love. If I have to keep hiding my feelings, and the fact I feel my heart tremble every time you smile at me, I’ll go crazy. So I wanted to propose… well, I don’t know if you feel the same, but we could… be together, you know? Have sex, to relieve tension and simply have some fun; there would be nothing wrong, and since it was so amazing the first time, I trust it would be the same again… and our friendship wouldn’t necessarily be ruined, perhaps it would come out… strengthened, even…”

💚 You hold your breath, waiting for Zoro’s reaction; you force yourself to meet his eyes, because you have opened your heart to him and have no reason to feel ashamed for it, and the emotion you feel reflected on his handsome face is the last you could have imagined. Not excitement, not embarrassment, not relief… but disappointment. “Is this what you want?” he asks after a while, a touch of disbelief in his voice, as he searches your eyes “What would really make you happy? To sleep together… to have sex, and then pretend nothing happened and we are simply friends?” The contempt in his voice is both discouraging and surprising; you never guessed Zoro would be the judging type, but perhaps it is not a matter of morality… “... yes.” you lie in the end; while a sexual relationship with Zoro would probably make you happy, at least for a while, it is not what you want, not even remotely “I mean, I think it would be… convenient for both of us…”

💚 “Convenient…” Zoro repeats, shaking his head, as if he had never heard a more absurd proposition; he laughs softly, but there is no trace of amusement in his tone. You bite your lip, suddenly uncomfortable, and since he doesn’t seem inclined to give your proposal an answer, you dare to ask: “What did you want to talk about?” “It doesn’t matter anymore; you… you sort of answered me already. Listen, I’ll see you later, all right? And these… these are for you, for what it’s worth; you can throw them away.” These are a bunch of colourful, sort of messy but for this even more beautiful flowers, that Zoro must have picked himself in the fields behind the harbour, and even tied with a ribbon found who knows where.

💚 He brought you flowers. Oh, for all the Gods, Zoro brought you flowers!

💚 Left utterly speechless as you admire the bouquet that has been shoved in your hands, you don’t realise Zoro has left, turning on his heels and walking away. “Zoro, wait!” you call him, starting after him, but it’s useless; your friend, who has never run from a fight and would gladly face ten enemies on his own, pretends he doesn’t hear you, picking up the pace until he’s almost running - running away, from you, because of the catastrophic misunderstanding you have inadvertently created. “I’m so sorry… please, let me explain, you got it wrong!” you beg him, but Zoro is deaf to your protests and, even worse, can run much faster than you, and he can’t obviously avoid you forever, since you are part of the same tiny crew, but you know you have to explain yourself here and now, and you will, if only he would listen… “Zoro, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” and then, finally fed up with running after him like a parent with an unruly child: “Husband! Stop right there and let me talk, dammit!”

💚 He does.

💚 You both need a moment to catch your breath, and you use your free hand to grab his and stop him from running again. In the end you look at each other, alone in the middle of a tiny meadow, and you just know, without the need to touch his chest with your hand, that your hearts are beating as one. Zoro looks at you, almost scared. “You called me husband.” he points out softly “You… you had never done it before.” “I haven’t.” you agree “And you don’t know how much I regret it. Thanks for the flowers, they are beautiful, but… what have you given them to me?” “Well…” he begins, rubbing a hand on the back of his head “It is tradition in my village that a man offers flowers to the woman who he… he wants to court. I know it doesn’t really make sense between the two of us, but I thought it could be… well, a statement of intentions, if you want. If… if that’s what you want as well…”

💚 You quickly inform him you have no intention of beginning a courtship with him. “Because.” you add still holding him by the hand, as you use the other to leave your bouquet on a nearby rock; you are blushing furiously as you look at him, but at the same time your heart is soaring, higher than the cloudless sky above you “There is no reason; you don’t need to woo me with gifts or compliments, because… because you have already won me over. I love being your friend, but that is not what I really want, not even if we sleep together on the side. I… I just want to be with you, like couples do. I want you to be my husband, and I want to be your wife. In a sense, I have always been, ever since that…”

💚 The rest of the sentence is pushed back in your mouth by Zoro’s lips, his scorching hot kiss making you forget your words; his arm is holding you by the waist, his free hand already lost in your hair, and only a moment passes before you are kissing him back, your open mouth greedily welcoming his tongue, your hands running on any inch of Zoro’s skin they can find, covered by his clothes or, even better, naked. “You know.” you murmur after a while, as Zoro is busy sucking a bruise on the side of your neck, the sensation so sensual and delicious you have closed your eyes to better savour it “There is technically a way for our marriage to be declared void, and for us to divorce. So, if you wanted to… change your mind…”

💚 You can feel Zoro’s grin against your throat. “The only reason I would divorce you is to court you again from the start.” he murmurs “I… I have wanted to ask you to be together since we left your island; I told myself it was only that, only sex, but I knew it wasn’t true, and I never found the courage to tell you how I felt, and when the other day at the festival I saw that guy dancing with you and it made my blood boil…” He takes your head in his hands, smiling at you; a more than throughout repetition of your wedding ceremony awaits you that night, but in that moment the purest, most inebriating joy fills both of you. “I promise I will never dance with anyone but you.” you murmur, locking your arms behind Zoro’s head, and he smiles again.

💚 “You better not forget your promise.” he points out before kissing you again “Wife.”

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Roronoa Zoro #Roronoa Zoro x reader #Zoro #Zoro x reader #Mackenyu #Mackenyu Arata #Bellona's stuff

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trans-rite · 6 months

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How to join the Transgender Ancestor Rite: an FAQ on our updated format

What is it?

an annual, non-denominational ritual honoring transgender individuals who have passed on

an act of solidarity with the lineage of transgender ancestors who have come before us and paved the way, as well as with the descendants who will come after us when we are gone

a chance to share tenderness and kindness with the restless spirits of transgender people who lost their lives to violence

an opportunity for living transgender folks, including those who have lost trans loved ones, to grieve, mourn, and pray

a labor of love from a multiracial group of trans spirit workers, each at various stages of study in ancestor veneration practices, who have been putting on this ritual since 2014

When is it?

the ritual should take place on or around the Trans Day of Remembrance on November 20th, preferably within a week

most of us do it at night but any time of day is fine

if you need to do it a little before or after the 20th, don't sweat it

Where is it?

wherever you are!

groups are welcome to host local events and inform us about them, but the ritual itself takes place in a location of your own choosing, usually at home

if you have access to a local TDOR event that could incorporate some or all of this ritual, you are welcome to bring it there

most of the organizers have historically been located in the northeastern US but you don’t have to be

Who is it for?

it honors everyone from this year’s Trans Day of Remembrance official list, as well as any other deaths of trans individuals from the year that participants wish to include

illness losses, violent deaths, suicides, and natural deaths are all eligible for inclusion

it includes, cumulatively, all transgender deaths from previous years as well, named on the TDOR lists and unnamed, throughout history

it honors and praises the trans ancestors, people who were alive both recently and longer ago, who feel themselves in connection with us, who have received the care and honor we offered through previous years’ rituals, who are bright and well and who can tend the line from the other side

participants can be trans or cisgender, of any or no denomination or faith

Does it cost money?

nope! this is an anticapitalist affair

you can buy incense and offerings if you like, but you don’t need to spend money to participate

Why are y’all doing this?

honestly this could take pages and pages about the importance of this work and of soothing the troubled dead and tending our ancestral line et cetera et cetera ad infinitum but the short version is

we gotta

our ancestors require it and we’re making sure they get it

Okay, how does it work?

during the ritual, you sit or stand at an altar, light a candle, put out a glass of fresh water, and read a prayer

you may also make any other offerings you feel called to do

if so moved, you read the names of the dead from this year's TDOR list and call on our bright and well ancestors to tend to these newly passed souls

all the people participating in all the different places in the world help create a rising raft of energy that is greater than the sum of its parts, delivering the restless dead among our line into the care of our bright and well ancestors, who, in turn, also care for us, the living

Prayers? I thought you said this was non-denominational.

prayers can involve divinity, or they can be kind and soothing words to say to the dead

you can look through our prayers tag to get ideas and inspiration, but feel free to find poems on your own and/or write something yourself as well

you are welcome to include deity or not, as you prefer

the organizers of this ritual incorporate gods and spirits in our practices but you by no means need to

on the flip side, if you want your gods involved, feel free to do so in whatever respectful manner works for you

What do I need on my altar?

the basics are an altar cloth (white is traditional; a bandana works), a cup to be filled with water, and a new or dedicated candle (white is traditional here also but follow your instincts)

other great offerings include cut flowers, portions of your food and drink (though alcohol is not advised with restless spirits), tobacco, honey, pictures and/or names of the deceased, art, music, dancing, and any gender paraphernalia you think the ancestors might like

do not put pictures of living people on the altar

it can be as simple or ornate as you choose: the important parts are the candle, the cup, and the cloth

Isn’t it sketchy to be working with dead people?

a little bit

it is much less sketchy since our format change in 2022, at which point this ritual shifted from working directly with restless spirits (dicey) to interfacing with them only through our cadre of elevated bright and well ancestors who have already benefited from previous years' rituals

we advise that you cleanse or purify in whatever way you prefer, ideally before and after the working

if you’re in a Western (especially American Christian) culture that views death as The End and discussion of death as taboo, consider reading up on cultures where ancestor veneration is a normal part of everyday life (hint: it’s most of them)

Other questions? Send them in and we’ll answer them, and maybe add them to the list! If you post about the ritual, tag #troe2023 and we will check it out!

Thank you for joining us!

- Mod Alder and team

#troe2023 #trans rite of elevation #transgender rite of ancestor elevation #troe #mod post #faq #will update the page link soon but pinning this post for now

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shangrila11 · 10 months

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Dating them // Dan Heng, Jing Yuan, Luka (HSR) x reader

Dan Heng

March was thrilled to learn that you and Dan Heng were dating --she thought the two of you made a cute couple -- and would regularly teased the two of you about it, much to the embarrassment of the both of you. (Dan Heng tried not to show it though). Himeko and Welt were happy that the two of you were together as well, although unlike March, they didn't tease you two (thankfully).

Dan Heng was more of a man of action than one of words. He would often squeeze your hand comfortingly, pull you closer to him either protectively or for a hug and do other actions that showed he cared. He wasn't too big on public displays of affection so he expression of affection was usually more subtle and in more private settings.

Being the train guard, he was very protective of you, shielding you from attacks and whatnot. While you appreciate it, you didn't like Dan Heng putting himself in danger for you and you were more than capable of defending yourself. Dan Heng assured you that he knew that -- in fact, your independant and strong nature was what attracted him in the first place -- but he wanted to.

Dates with him were usually peaceful -- cuddling and/or reading at the Archives, taking strolls around towns while holding hands, among other activities. The two of you didn't converse with each other much, just appreciating each other's company.

You were one of the few people that Dan Heng was okay with touching his horns. They were sensitive, after all. You were careful not to abuse that privilege but sometimes you couldn't help it. His horns were gorgeous. He also subconsciously wrapped his tail around your waist as he hugged you. You would smile seeing that. Dan Heng always made you feel secure and you were thankful for that.

Jing Yuan

As a general of the Xianzhou Luofu, Jing Yuan was usually busy so the two of you didn't have much time to date. He felt bad about it but you reassured him that you didn't mind and that you treasured every single moment with him. When the two of you did get time to date, the general and you liked playing chess, brewing and sipping tea and just relaxing in general.

Jing Yuan enjoyed teasing you and complimenting you a lot. He found your flustered look endearing. He would try to feign innocence but you knew better.

You and Jing Yuan practically acted as Yan Qing's parental figure, teaching him sword fighting techniques and imparting in him life advices. You found it heartwarming to see the interactions between the two males. It was clear that they cared about each other. Yan Qing respected you and enjoyed your company as you were a capable fighter and one with a strong sense of justice and responsibility.

He might appear lax but whenever you got injured and such, his expression would darkened briefly before asking if you were alright and patching you up. He would also hug without a word if your injuries allowed it. He had lost too many men, friends and loved ones in his long life. He couldn't afford to lose you too. Your heart broke seeing your love like that. You gently reassured him that you weren't going anywhere.

Luka

When the two of you first started dating, Luka was nervous, stuttering and goofing up. Cheeks red, he had apologised profusely but you had assured him that it was alright with a giggle. Your words gave him the confidence he needed and he gradually became less nervous on dates.

He was very affectionate with you, hugging, kissing and telling you how much he loved you without fail. Who cared if there were people watching? You were amazing and he wanted to let you know that!

He hated seeing you sad. He would spar with you in a boxing match so that you could blow off some steam and take your mind off things, take you out to eat your favourite food and carry out acts that would cheer you up. He couldn't help breaking into a grin when he saw you smile again, glad that his actions had bore fruit.

Luka loved doing fun things with you on dates which usually involved watching and/or participating in matches, hanging out with Clara and Svarog and going to the Golden Theater (this was after the Overworld became open to the citizens of the Underworld, of course). He would crack jokes and share with you any interesting things that had happened animatedly. All in all, you always had a good time with Luka around.

(Pictures do not belong to me. Credit goes to Hoyoverse)

#x reader #fluff #romance #dan heng #dan heng x reader #jing yuan #honkai star rail #jing yuan x reader #luka #luka x reader #hsr scenarios #hsr x reader

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steppin-on-the-last-train · 8 months

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As it Comes Back to Me

Natasha Romanoff x WinterSoldier!Reader

Summary: Your whole life you'd been living for a mission, whether it be protecting your family or fighting just to see the next sunrise. If you didn’t slow down though, you stood to lose someone you couldn’t live without.

Takes place during the events of Captain America: Civil War.

Word Count: 8,000

A/N: I spent way too much time writing this instead of studying for class.

“Hey kids,” you said, walking up to wrap your arms around Steve and Bucky. You’d just been promoted to Major and had been sent back to the states to escort a fresh round of recruits to the front. There was a big event tonight though which begged for your attention. Howard Stark was showing some new invention or other of his. You’d never been too interested in what the scientists had to say, but there would be plenty of girls out looking to be asked to a dance.

Steve, your little brother–both in age and stature–looked less than thrilled at your return. “What’s wrong, buddy?” You asked, shaking his shoulder.

“It’s not fair,” he protested, shrugging out of your embrace. “I should be heading out with you and Buck tomorrow. I want to fight. I know I can help.” You felt for Steve. If it was him and Bucky standing in uniform and not you, you’re sure you’d be missing out on a whole lot.

“I know, I know. I’m sure you’d give them Nazis real cause to turn and run,” you said, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold a rifle properly.

“Yeah,” Bucky added. “Ya know you should’ve seen him earlier today. Fought off some punk in an alleyway with a trash can lid. Kicked his ass real good if you ask me.”

“Bucky,” Steve said. “Ya said you wouldn’t tell.”

“Oh, right. Sorry, what I meant to say was that Steve got beat up and I had to come rescue him.” The soon to be sergeant ruffled your brother’s hair.

“No, I know what you’re really upset about is that I’m stealing your boy here,” you said, nodding at Bucky.

“Yeah, yeah, enough. Now come on, I wanna get a good look at the car. All the posters were sayin’ Stark could make it fly.” Steve began to weave his way through the crowd, giving you no choice but to follow.

“I’m worried about leaving him here all alone, ya know?” Bucky said, a crease forming between his brow.

“He’s tough, and he’s smart. Always has been, you know that. Honestly, if they should be sendin’ anyone to fight they should be sendin’ him instead of us. But spirit’s not gonna win a fight, ya gotta back it up with somethin’. Point is, he’ll be fine on his own. Maybe if we’re lucky when we get back he’ll have found himself a nice girl to care for.” You smirked at Bucky.

He ignored the jab as he waved at a group of nice looking girls. You waved too, flashing a smile and admiring the way their skirts fit. “Hey girls!” He shouted. As they made their way through the bustling crowd, he turned to you again. “I just worry about him. I care about him a lot and I can see how torn up he is about us gettin’ to go when he can’t.” A frown appeared to dim the light on his face. “What if he does something stupid while we’re off?”

You clapped him on the shoulder and said, “You worry too much Barnes. You ought to save some of that for the war.”

Giggling, the girls–the names of which Bucky had supplied earlier and which you had promptly forgotten–siddled up. The one nearest to you was a brunette with a yellow skirt and a white flower in her hair. She took your hand and pulled you right up to the front row. “Come on soldier, the show is startin’.”

You smiled and let yourself get lost among the din and the spectacle.

From beside you, Steve waved at you and said your name.

He said your name again, and again. You finally tore your gaze away from the TV monitor mounted in the corner of the room. Steve was much, much bigger now; even taller than you. You were still adjusting to the change. Although he still had the same kind gaze that came with naturally always wanting to do what was right, and believing others wanted the same. You wondered if you had been like that once too.

“We need to get him out of there,” he said. Your gaze flicked back over to the security footage that showed Bucky restrained in a mobile holding unit reinforced with metal supports and bullet proof glass. You had thought he was dead, and turns out Steve had thought the both of you were long gone. And apparently, fate wasn’t done with any of you yet. Bucky looked drastically different. His hair had grown out to his chin and he had lost the boyish swagger and proud glimmer in his eyes. But beneath the bulk and hardened exterior you still saw your friend.

“I know. Something doesn’t feel right about this,” you said. A year ago you had been similarly detained. But you were held in the Avengers Compound and were surrounded by friendly faces. The people here were not so sympathetic. You could feel the passing judgment not just on the Winter Soldier, but on you as well.

“Maybe we could talk to Tony again,” Steve said.

From his seat across the table Sam shook his head. “Did you not just hear him tell us he was fully committed to kissing the government’s ass? Steve, I understand this whole ‘peace at all costs’ approach, but I have a feeling we’re not going to get our way by talking this time.”

“Sam’s right,” you said, mouth twisting into a defeated frown. Through the glass wall of the office you were sitting in you watched a certain Avenger weave her way through the crowded room. You were torn, but Natasha had made her choice. “We’re going to have to consider punching our way out of this one. I got off lucky, but things are different now. The whole world is watching what will happen to him. Compromise isn’t an option anymore.”

Hands on his hips, Steve sighed. “Well, we aren’t going to be able to grab him and get out of here. And we need our gear back if we have any hopes of not getting locked up in a real cell.”

As if sensing your staring, Natasha looked over. Quickly you averted your eyes and suddenly found the tabletop very interesting. But you knew she had caught you. Just a couple of weeks ago you had been spending your mornings going out on runs with her and your evenings watching her try and fail to play chef. She could go on for hours talking about the world and bringing you up to speed. You didn’t know what was more interesting; that the world had turned upside down or the way her voice sounded as she helped you make sense of it all.

And you both enjoyed the newfound freedom neither of you believed you’d ever see nor deserved. You had thought you knew her well enough to predict which side of the so-called Sokovia Accords she would be on. Turned out maybe you didn’t.

Sharon Carter walked into the sound proofed room, hopefully bringing more news. She seemed to have a soft spot for Steve, and you and Sam by extension. She was also the only person here that seemed to want to communicate with the three of you.

On the screen a man sat down at a table across from Bucky. He shuffled some papers around and faced your friend as if in conversation. You stood with your hands braced on the table and watched intently. A glove covered the shiny metal of your right hand. Under your sleeve, the flexible steel plating melded with flesh just below your elbow.

You knew visual without audio would only get you so far, but you’d be damned if you could figure out how to turn it on.

“The receipt for your gear,” Sharon said, handing a slip of paper to Sam.

He took one look at it and scoffed. “Bird costume? Come on.”

“I didn’t write it,” she said, trying to hide a faint smile. Now was not the time for jokes. Noticing the attention on the TV screen she pushed some buttons on a control panel and the audio switched on.

The camera showed a modestly dressed middle-aged man. “I’m not here to judge you,” he told Bucky. “I just want to ask you a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?.” He glanced down at his notes and removed his glasses amicably. From another angle, part of the screen detailed an uncomfortably close profile of Bucky’s face. After a moment of silence, he went on. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.”

“My name is Bucky,” he answered, still not making eye contact with the man.

“Who is that man?” You asked, wary of the stranger who was supposedly the only person authorized to make contact with the Winter Soldier.

“He’s a psychologist sent by the United Nations just to conduct a primary evaluation. I’m not familiar with him personally,” Sharon said.

Steve studied the blurry photograph of Bucky that had been taken after he set the bomb off in Vienna. “Why would the Task Force release this photo to begin with?”

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Sharon supplied.

“Right. It’s a good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” You could see the gears in his brain turning. Steve had always been the intuitive one.

“You’re saying someone framed him to find him,” Sharon said, catching on.

Sam spoke up, unsure of where your brother was going. “Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.”

“Sam has a point,” you said. You were all too familiar with the Winter Soldier program. If you didn’t want to be found, you had the ability to make yourself dead to the world. “We were trained to blend in, to hide in plain sight. Even if he had to run, no one man would ever be able to find him.”

“We didn’t bomb the UN. That turns a lot of heads,” Steve asserted.

“Yeah, but to your point,” Sharon said, nodding at you. “That doesn’t guarantee that whoever framed him would get him. It guarantees that we would.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed.

So there was a mole in the government, and he was probably in the building. Your gaze narrowed and you watched the people milling about outside your little bubble with a new suspicion. Whoever it was was obviously already ten steps ahead, you would have to wait until he made his next move. Beside you Sam stood from his seat, eyes similarly flicking from the screen to the windows and back. Steve looked like a racehorse ready to spring from its stall.

From the corner of the room, the conversation continued on through the speakers, even if no one was paying much attention any longer. “Tell me, Bucky. You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?” The man asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You fear that…if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.”

The CIA agent, Captain America, the Falcon, and the Wolf Spider were too busy looking for a threat aimed at themselves to notice what was going on before them.

In the secured, private room five levels below the surface, Helmut Zemo received a message on his phone. A package of his had been delivered. Looking up, he wiped the false pretenses of innocence from his face. “We only have to talk about one.”

For a moment the room was plunged in darkness before emergency lights bathed the building in a red glow. The monitor with the video footage remained black. You looked at Sam. Now was your chance.

Steve looked to Sharon and she spoke without hesitation. “Sub-level five, east wing.”

No sooner than she had finished were the three of you bolting from the office and back the way you had been escorted in. You flew down the stairwell, concerned only for Bucky and getting to him before it was too late. But even super soldiers could only descend a dozen floors so fast. Heart racing, you jumped down the last flight, only to be met with a sign on the wall that read ‘Sub-Level 5; West.’

Without pause you pushed through the nearest doorway and wound your way through the maze of hallways. “This way!” Sam shouted. You and Steve rounded on your heels and went sprinting after him down a narrow corridor that served as a connection between the two wings of the building. The soft glow of emergency lighting lit the way, but between flashes the basement levels were pitch black. In the final stretch you overtook him and spilled out into another landing.

The doors to the room on your right were destroyed. A dozen guards lay spread out on the floor unconscious. The chamber was completely silent, but you doubted the chase truly ended here. You knelt and checked the pulse of the agent at your feet. He was alive.

“Help me. Help,” a voice cried out from further in the room. You picked up a discarded pistol and tucked it into the back of your waistband.

Steve was closer to the man than you and wasted no time picking him up and pinning him against the wall by his jacket collar. “Get up.” You’d never heard him sound so furious. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“To see an empire fall,” the man replied vaguely. After staring down Steve he turned to face you with the gleam of a predator in his eyes.Your heart pounded in your chest.

“Steve, we need to find Bucky,” you said.

The echo of footsteps rang down the hall as Sam caught up. Right as he stepped through the door Bucky came lunging out of the shadows, metal fist swinging for Sam’s face. Sam ducked just in time to avoid getting his teeth knocked out. Instead, a fist-sized chunk of the concrete wall blew away into pulverized chunks. But by the time he righted himself Bucky had already launched another attack. This time he grabbed him by the jaw and threw him all the way across the room to crash into the holding unit. The impact was enough to knock him out cold.

Steve looked torn between chasing after Bucky, checking on Sam, and further interrogating the psychologist.

“Go,” you said, nodding toward Bucky. “I got him.”

Steve launched himself at Bucky and pushed him back out into the hall.

You pulled the gun and trained it on the guilty party. Outside the exaggerated sound of two super soldiers fighting reverberated back to you. The shuffle of quick footwork followed by the concerning crash of a metal fist colliding with a wall at inhuman speed.

“Your name. Now,” you demanded.

“My full title is Baron Helmut Zemo. But I think the more important question is, who are you?”

The brawl in the hallway had stopped, and the renewed silence made you uneasy. “Enough with the games.” You flicked the pistol toward the exit. “Move. I’m taking you upstairs.”

He began to pick his way slowly across the room. “Okay, you’ve got me beat. But I just need to know one thing. Steve seems to think you’ve miraculously been returned to him the same as before he became Captain America.” It bothered you, how Zemo felt he had the right to use your brother’s name. “Show me what you hide from them, Wolf Spider. Show me who you really are.”

“Shut up,” you said, annoyed with his riddled speech. But before you could make another move, Bucky came ramming back into the holding room, kicking right at your stomach. The impact forced you to take a knee and as you scrambled to stand up, Zemo pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and began to speak. “Мрамор.”

Even over the rushes of blood pumping through your veins and the stomp of Bucky’s boots on the ground, you still heard it. Like a heat-seeking missile the word wormed its way into your brain and you faltered.

Panic seized you. You needed to get to Zemo. “Bucky, stop!” You yelled, desperate for any way to get around him for even a second. As you tried to stand he planted a foot and your chest and pushed you to the floor. The air left your lungs in a gust as your back slammed into the cement. The gun went flying from your grip and skittering across the floor. “Dick move, Barnes,” you said in a strained whisper.

“Восемь,” Zemo said, sounding closer now even though you couldn’t see him. You clamped your hands over your ears and screamed. Taking a chance you bashed your metal fist into Bucky’s knee and charged for Zemo. “Жжение.” His voice sent you careening off course as if repelled by his words. Fighting for any last scrap of control you punched the wall until your knuckles left bloody streaks. You counted back from ten in your head, jaw clenched so tight it was close to shattering.

Your defenses broken, Bucky reengaged the fight. You scrambled, narrowly blocking his punches from beating your face in and counting you out. You reassessed and went on the offensive. You’d have to take him out before going for his handler.

Easier said than done.

“Рекрут.” You fought even harder, even as a fog crept up the back of your mind. Where was Steve?

“Снегопад.” Another nail in the coffin. He landed a punch to your face and a deep split opened on your cheek. You barely felt the blood run down to your chin.

“Пять.” You managed to land a right hook on Bucky’s weak side. You capitalized on the small victory. Seizing him by the shoulders you grappled with him for a moment before sweeping his leg from under him. He fell with a thud and you lined up a kick to the side of his head. You’d apologize later.

“Увядший.” The Wolf Spider crawled up the back of your spine, jaws gnashing at your brain for control. Your attention slipped for a fraction of a second. But that was all the time the Winter Soldier needed. He seized your ankle and pulled you to the ground. Before you could get your bearings he clamped his fist around your neck and threw you against the wall.

“послушный.” The Soldier rammed his knee into your stomach and you doubled over in an attempt to suck air back into your lungs. The room spun and the lights blurred together. A male Sokovian accented voice was all you could hear above the ringing in your ears.

An arm snaked around your throat from behind and forced you to stand.

“An impressive attempt to be sure. But I’ve found that dogs can always be tamed.”

A fading voice in the back of your mind yelled at you to fight. Halfheartedly you tried to twist out of the Soldier’s hold.

“Одиннадцать.” A dam had cemented itself and separated you from your body.

“Пекин.” Your breathing became even and you looked to the man before you for instruction.

“Солдат?” He asked.

“Я готов отвечать.”

—

Natasha Romanoff walked through the chaos-ridden office, catching up to Tony Stark. Your swift absence hadn’t escaped her notice. She had almost chased after you herself. She’d desperately been wanting to talk to you since the Accords had been dropped in the team’s lap, but you had made yourself scarce since. She could tell that her decision had upset you, even if you were as unlikely to tell her so as you were to turn your back on Steve and Bucky.

“Please tell me you brought a suit,” she said. Because a fight against three super soldiers would be much easier won with a trick of their own.

“Sure did,” the Iron Man replied. “It’s a lovely Tom Ford, three-piece, two-button.” He stopped his nervous rant. “I’m an active-duty non-combatant.” Fancy speak for the government not being comfortable with his access to the greatest weapon’s system on the planet.

Sharon Carter ran up to them, an earpiece providing information Natasha nor Tony were privy to. “Follow me,” she told them.

They made their way downstairs onto the ground level. “The Winter Soldier has been unleashed,” Agent Carter said. “He’s on this floor in the lobby, probably trying to escape.”

“That’s a no-can-do from Agent Ross. We need a plan. Nat?” Tony looked expectantly toward the Black Widow.

“Why is it always up to me?” She asked, even as a plan formed in her mind.

“Because everyone knows my job is to look good and provide charity for you free loaders.”

Natasha narrowed her gaze at Tony’s watch. “Which outfit is that a part of?”

“It is as practical as it is fashionable. Glasses too,” he said.

“Tony, you’ll come up on him from behind. Get his attention, and try to disarm him if you can. Carter and I will be right behind.”

“I don’t remember volunteering to be the bait, Romanoff.”

Natasha motioned for Sharon and they picked their way around the edge of the sun-lit lobby. Civilian workers fleeing for their lives rushed around them in a current, but the women stood as solid as stone. The sound of combat reached her ears before she was able to see into the main lobby. A metal fist pounded against flesh and man after man crumpled to the floor. The snap of a bone being broken and the subsequent screams.

Natasha rounded the corner into the foyer just as a terrible supersonic blast flooded the area. Tony had stunned the attacker if only for a moment. To her horror it wasn’t Barnes standing there, but you. She couldn’t see your face as you moved to pummel Tony, but she knew what she’d see. A figure of a ghost from the Red Room flashed before her eyes.

A gunshot shook her out of her stupor and she ran after Sharon into the fray. You elbowed Tony in the face before punching him in the gut hard enough to send him flying into a table several feet away.

Before you could finish the job Sharon ran at you, forcing you to block a kick and a jab. You wound up an answering punch that would’ve cracked her sternum but she ducked away and you missed. As you recovered, Natasha lodged a knee into your stomach before crouching down to jab you in the groin. She didn’t want to fight you, but she would. All it took was one look into your eyes to separate the Wolf Spider from the person she knew you were.

Sharon landed a roundhouse kick to the head but as she wound up for a second assault you caught her leg and hurled her down onto a table. The legs broke underneath with a clatter.

As you were turned around, Natasha took the opportunity to seize you from behind and flip herself up onto your shoulders. With anyone else she would’ve been able to floor them from this position. But the Wolf Spider intimately knew all of the Black Widow’s moves. All those years ago, you had taught her much of the combat she still used today.

She rained down blows on your head as you crossed the lobby. She grunted as she threw her fists down over and over in a vain attempt to get you to drop her. Instead you carried her to a table and slammed her down. Before she could recover, you clamped your hand around her neck and choked her out.

Scrabbling at your metal forearm, Natasha’s face burned red. She felt her windpipe being crushed under your grip. But even under the eclipse of death’s shadow, the scariest thing was what they’d done to you. She knew you’d tear yourself up about it later, and worse she knew no one here would understand.

On the verge of passing out, she managed one last choked whisper. “You could at least recognize me.” Maybe, as Natasha’s heart was shattered in two, she could pass some of that anguish onto you.

If anything you only squeezed harder and she felt the strength waste away from her muscles.

Seemingly out of nowhere you were shoved off of her. She gasped and pulled as much air in as she could through her bruised throat. All she could manage was to stare up at the ceiling and blink away the spots from her vision.

Rallying, Natasha pushed herself up and saw Tony standing over you with his mechanical gloved hand extended. She coughed and asked, “How?”

You were on your knees, hands clamped tightly over your ears and fingers digging into the back of your head.

“Lucky guess,” Tony said. “Think of it like a dog whistle, but for super soldiers. And also like blow your head off levels of loud. Had to estimate the frequency after getting beaten half to death. But it looks like I’ve outwitted the killing machine.”

Natasha was frozen. You’d just about suffocated her, but a large part of her still wanted to yell at Tony and tell him to cut it out. “Does it hurt?”

“Well, it’s no symphony, I can tell you that.”

She threw a glare in his direction.

“I don’t know. Ballpark? Somewhere between a migraine and an ice pick through the ear.”

A dozen more security personnel came flooding in. They rounded in a circle around you and half of them readied their guns. The rest assaulted you with tasers. You fell to the floor in a series of violent spasms and Natasha looked away.

“Let’s get this one ready for transport,” one barked.

“Natasha, are you okay?” Tony asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, voice still raw.

“That psycho almost killed you.” He always got assertive when he was worried. “You see, this is why we need the Accords. To keep chaos from breaking out in refuges of peace for godsake.”

Natasha looked back at where your limp body was being dragged away. She wished she could go back to before any of this started. She was terrified that she had missed her chance to tell you how she felt. “He’s not a psycho.”

“Then you and I have very different definitions of the word.”

“Stark.” The disappointed voice of Secretary Ross called.

“We have the Wolf Spider in custody sir.” Tony adjusted his tie.

“And Barnes, Wilson, and the other Rogers are all in the wind. One out of four is three less than I expected of you.”

But Natasha had had enough of Thadeus Ross for a lifetime. She walked away wishing that you were by her side instead. Isolated from the beaurucrats and politicians and the bridge with Steve having been thoroughly burned, she felt lost. All around her the pieces of the life she had worked so hard to build lay scattered. The overwhelming urge to hit something surged. How did she get here?

—

You sat by Natasha under a tree in the forest behind the Avengers’ Compound. The chirping birds and the rustle of wind through the leaves were the only sounds that broke the silence out here. Everything at the compound was a blur of light and rush of movement all the time. You couldn’t get two seconds without someone needing something from you. So you had developed the habit of sneaking out and picking a random direction to pass an afternoon.

Natasha had a book in her hands. Today her hair was pulled back in a braid and thrown over her shoulder. You liked when she put it up because you could see her face more clearly.

“He talked a lot about the past, and I gathered that he wanted to recover something, some idea of himself perhaps, that had gone into loving Daisy,” she read. You ran your hand through the grass and dirt absentmindedly. “Are you listening?”

“Yeah, of course.” You had been listening, but not to what she said, but how she spoke it. “It’s just I’ve read Gatsby before. Jay is a dreamer, but he still loses everything. It’s not fair. He didn’t know any better but to follow his heart.”

“That’s not how I see it,” she replied. “Listen. ‘His life had been confused and disordered since then, but if he could once return to a certain starting place and go over it all slowly, he could find out what that thing was’.” She shifted closer, leg almost bumping your own. Uncomfortable with the proximity bordering on affection you subtly moved away. “Jay is chasing a life that he can no longer have. And in the process he ruins himself, and the woman he loves. He should’ve known better.”

Overhead the branches had become indistinguishable from one another and instead blended together as one entrapment. The fading orange glow cast by the setting sun reminded you to start heading back. The woods would be near impossible to navigate without the light. You stood and reached a hand out to help Natasha up. She grasped it tightly and instead pulled you down to her.

“You should’ve known better.” A haunted despair paled her features.

“What?”

The crack of fracturing bones echoed throughout the lonely clearing and Natasha cried out. Your hand had begun to squeeze hers tight enough to crush it. You willed yourself to let go but your stubborn metal fist refused to obey.

“You destroy everything you love, even if you never say the words out loud.”

A bullet hole slowly materialized in the middle of her forehead. Blood seeped down her face and she smiled a bloody smile.

“You should’ve stayed dead.”

You jerked yourself awake with a gasp. The dream faded from your mind almost immediately, as had the once before where you’d been stuck in a cave, and the one before that where you’d slaughtered an entire family.

You took a second to examine the unfamiliar environment. The cell you were in was bright and clean, and the camera assured there was no privacy. Across from you was an identical unit. In fact, the entire room was just an octagon of prison cells.

You rubbed at your face, only for the movement to be followed by a metallic clanking. Both of your wrists were manacled with thick iron cuffs which were anchored to the wall with a chain. Your left wrist was chaffed and dried blood coated your hand. Alarm surged through you.

No, you would rather die than play prisoner and puppet for anyone else again.

You stood up, suddenly feeling claustrophobic. But when you tried to step away from the wall you were yanked back, not by your wrists, but by a chain around your neck. Coughing, you fell back against the wall and pulled at the tight restraint. All you succeeded in doing was irritating the inflamed skin underneath.

“Hey buddy, are you okay?”

You snapped your attention to the voice. You didn’t recognize the guy who had spoken, but the man in the cell next to him looked familiar. Your head throbbed as you tried to remember. He had short brown hair and sat hunched over on a bench, just watching.

“Fine,” you said. Your voice sounded about as shitty as the rest of your body felt. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Scott. You actually don’t know me cause we haven’t met, but I fought with your brother. He’s a really nice guy. Of course you know that.” You shot him a glare. “You know what, I’m just going to shut up now.”

Confusion spun your battered brain around even further. Your brother. You had a brother named Steve. Steve was small so you had to–wait, that wasn’t quite right. Steve’s strength had caught up to the size of his will. He was a soldier. The Soldier. Солдат. A fresh pang wracked your head. No. A captain. Captain America.

The room felt cold but your hand was clammy. Sweat dampened your hair as if you had caught a fever. You squeezed your eyes shut. Why were these lights so damn bright? Where were you?

“Hey, what’s going on? I can’t see into the cell. Is he back?”

You knew that voice. You trusted it as well as you may trust anyone. If only you could think harder. You opened your eyes and again saw the familiar-looking man. The name came to you this time. “Clint,” you said.

Hope cleared some of the melancholic fog that had marred his features.

“Where are we? What happened? Where’s Steve?”

When he spoke, it was reserved, but you could tell he was holding back. “Steve called me. The Avengers fought. Some of them are picking up the mess. The rest of us landed our asses in here. You though…you were already here when they brought us in. I wish I could tell you why.”

“It’s Sam,” the man in the unit directly to the right of yours said. He banged on the wall for effect. “You were with me and Steve back in Berlin. Bucky was controlled and he went after us. He knocked me out and by the time I woke everyone was gone. I met up with Steve and Bucky outside, but you were gone. I’m sorry. If we would have known…”

“It’ll come back eventually.” Even if you could barely remember your own name now, somehow you knew this. The memories always came back, especially the bad ones.

“I should tell you, this isn’t the first time you’ve woken up,” Clint said. Scott looked away. “The first two times you didn’t say anything or acknowledge us. You just pulled away as hard as you could until you made yourself pass out.”

“Great,” you muttered under your breath. So they had all received a front row view of the mindless monster you were. “What is this place, anyway?”

“They call it the Raft. It’s an American prison unit that they dropped into the middle of the Atlantic.” Barton’s voice had taken on an undercurrent of anger. “It’s where they stick the worst of the worst.”

“Is anyone else here?” You asked.

“Wanda. Probably. I don’t know, they put her in a separate transport.” Your heart dropped. Why would they bring her into this? She was just a kid. And with her powers, you could only imagine what they were doing to keep her locked up.

You didn’t ask if there was a plan. The atmosphere here wasn’t exactly revolutionary. You drew your knees up to your chest and rested as best as you could.

Sometime later–you were sure the room had been built to be purposefully disorienting–the door slid open with a whir. In walked Tony Stark, his left arm in a sling and sporting a terrible black eye.

Clint stood up and began to slowclap, finally finding a target to take his anger out on. “The Futurist, gentlemen! The Futurist is here! He sees all! He sknows what’s best for you, whether you like it or not.”

The goading worked, drawing Tony’s attention away from you. “Give me a break, Barton. I had no idea they would put you here. Come on.”

He spit on the ground in defiance. “Yeah, well, you knew they’d put us somewhere, Tony.”

“Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey.” Stark gestured at the barred cells, gaze catching on you for a moment. “You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for…”

“Criminals?” Clint walked closer to the glass of his cage. “Criminals, Tony. Think that’s the word you’re looking for. Right?” The two estranged teammates stood eye to eye. “That didn’t used to mean me. Or Sam, or Wanda. But here we are.” A long time ago that didn’t used to mean you either.

“Because you broke the law.”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t make you.”

Clint turned his back on Tony. “La, la, la, la, la…”

“Alright, you’re all grown up, you got a wife and kids. I don’t understand, why didn’t you think about them before you chose the wrong side?” Realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere with Clint he walked away.

Barton rounded on him. “You gotta watch your back with this guy. There’s a chance he’s gonna break it,” he said, slamming on the glass.

“Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark,” Scott said with as much menace in his voice as he could conjure. You wondered how a civilian like him had gotten wrapped up in this fight.

“Who are you?” Stark walked right past him and onto Sam’s unit.

“Come on, man.”

“How’s Rhodes?” Wilson asked, not as willing to bite as Clint had been.

“They’re flying him to Columbia Medical tomrrow. So…fingers crossed. What do you need? They feed you yet?”

You couldn’t see Sam from your cell, but you hoped that he’d tell Stark off too.

“You’re the good cop now?” He asked sarcastically.

“I’m just the guy who needs to know where Steve went.”

“Well, you better go get a bad cop, because you’re gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me.”

Stark messed with his watch. “Oh, I just knocked the ‘A’ out of their ‘AV’. We got about thirty seconds before they realize it’s not their equipment.” You looked up at the security camera in the corner of your cell. Could he really do that? “Just look,” he went on. “Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes.” A little picture of a clearly dead man appeared out of thin air. “Clealy, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.”

“That’s a first.”

“Cap is definitely off the reservation but he’s about to need all the help he can get. We don’t know each other very well. You don’t have to…”

“Hey, it’s alright,” Sam interrupted. You wished you were in his eyeline so you could shake your head no in silent protest. But you didn’t have the energy or mental capacity to pick a verbal fight right now so you stayed quiet. “Look, I’ll tell you…but you have to go alone and as a friend.”

“Easy.”

Sam spoke so quietly you were sure without super hearing you wouldn’t have heard. “They went to an old Soviet-HYDRA bunker in Siberia. The fake doctor is going to unleash five more Winter Soldiers.”

“Okay. Wilson, I won’t forget this,” he said with fake malice in his voice to impress the cameras.

He turned to you next. “Rogers.” He saluted. Shame burned your face. You felt like a wild animal on display. And Tony Stark’s presence wasn’t exactly a comforting one since you presumed he was largely at fault for the team’s current predicament. “You’re not going to go all Terminator on me again, are you?”

You stared at him blankly, not moving from your place on the floor in the middle of the cell.

“Really? Nothing. I just came up with that one. Any messages from you to your brother I can deliver when I find him?”

“Tell him after all this he needs to get his ass as far from trouble as possible. Tell him I’m right where I should be.”

“How about I just say you’ll send him a postcard?” He quipped, walking away.

“Stark,” you called. “Lay a hand on Steve and I will find you.”

He didn’t turn back, but he gave a thumbs up on his way out.

—

You don’t think you could ever tire of the view before you. For most of your life you never believed you’d travel outside New York City, but here you were on the other side of the world. The waters below the ship were as blue and clean as great artists imagined in their scenes. The current lapped gently at the hull and you let the sound wash through you. Ahead, snow-capped mountains rose into the cloudy sky. The buildings and streets you were so used to being surrounded by in the city were replaced by miles of undisturbed woodland. The sky was overcast, but calm for now. Mist hung in the air and clung to your jacket. Maybe it would storm later, maybe it wouldn’t. You found peace in the apprehension.

“Hey,” Natasha said. You hadn’t heard her come up. She joined you at the railing and pushed a phone into the water.

“How’s the Good Secretary?”

“I’ve got him chasing his tail in D.C. We are officially in the wind.”

Steve and Natasha had broken you out of the Raft three days ago. Since then you’d decided to split up while the heat died down. He had wanted you to go with him, but you couldn’t look at your brother without feeling crushed by six decades worth of guilt. You still thought he would be safer without you, but you couldn’t escape the disappointed look on his face. Hurting him was like kicking a little puppy.

“Steve would love this place,” you said. Natasha took in the view while you admired her. Her hair was down and flowed past her shoulders. The wind blew strands of it about in a way that told you God indeed played favorites. “He loved to draw. And he was damn good at it too. Kid used to draw everything. Our old apartment, back alleys, the sky. He wouldn’t know what to do if he saw all of this.”

“You’re worried about him.”

“Really? Was I being that obvious?” You were tired, but you smiled anyway.

“The first time I met Steve he couldn’t make heads or tails of the shirt on his back, much less anything else humanity had changed. Yesterday, he was piloting the most advanced jet on the planet. Sounds like he’s the same resilient kid you grew up with. Except now he can throw a man a couple dozen yards.”

“I think he could literally be invincible and I’d still worry,” you admitted.

“I think that’s how family is supposed to work. And if it helps, he’s got Sam to watch his back.”

“Why did you volunteer to come with me?” You asked. You bit your lip nervously and scanned the grayish-blue horizon. “I almost killed you. I mean I would have killed you if Stark hadn’t…” You’d opened Pandora’s Box and couldn’t stop all of the guilt from pouring out. “And all those years ago in the Red Room, what I did to you. Why don’t you hate me?”

“Because I know who you really are. And that wasn’t you. Never was.” She said it so fervently that you almost believed her.

“But that’s just the thing. It was me. All of that blood is on my hands. If something happened to you, that would be on me.” And I don’t think I would survive without you. You left the rest unsaid, but it hung in the air just out of reach. “All he had to do was say the goddamn words and I lost it.”

“And you came back.” You found your mind wandering off into the mountains afar. “Hey look at me.” She laid a hand on your shoulder and brought you back from your reverie. Her warm breath fanned across your cheek. “You’re okay. We’re okay.”

“I can’t shake this feeling, Nat.” You heaved a shuddering breath. “That horrible voice is always in the back of my head. I’m so scared that one day it’ll drown me out.” Your eyes hurt from the force of holding back tears. “Please don’t let it drown me.”

Natasha wrapped her arms around you in a supportive hug. “I’ll never give up on you,” she said. “You can always come back to me.” You cautiously hugged her back and draped yourself over her. You concentrated on what was around you. The smell of the sea-salted air, the warmth of her body, the churn of the boat's engine.

You let her go and cleared your throat, rubbing harshly at your eyes. “Me too,” you said. “I mean, I’m here for you. ‘Til kingdom come.” You’d always fight for her. Truth is you had been for a long time now, you just didn’t realize it.

“You’re not the only one who’s done unspeakable things,” she whispered, as if preoccupied with reliving some awful memory. You weren’t the only one with demons intent on ruining any scrap of peace.

“Aren’t we quite the pair?” You inspected her hoodie and all of its familiarity. “Is that my sweatshirt?”

“No,” she lied, even as she messed with the ends of the sleeves that went well past her hands.

“Mhm. So did you bring any of my clothes for me or…?”

“I didn’t know if I was ever going to see you again,” Natasha said. Her voice was shaky with frustration and pent-up anxiety. “I was so worried. I thought that this would be all I had left to remember you by. I kept thinking that we would get into the Raft and you wouldn’t be there.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. The week and a half you were locked up for you hadn’t thought about where she might be. You told yourself you were too preoccupied with Steve and Bucky to otherwise focus. But you knew to think about Natasha was to admit you cared deeply for her. That was a battle you weren’t ready to surrender. “I didn’t know.” But maybe now was the time to lay down arms.

“That’s right you didn’t know. You didn’t think. That’s the problem you think you’re invincible and you run headfirst into danger time and time again.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Except it’s not just you anymore, Rogers. There are people that care about you and how you act affects them. When you make a stupid move it’s not just you who suffers the consequences.” Her voice cracked under the weight of the words.

“I can’t just sit around when something goes bad. You can’t ask me to do that.” You had so much time, so many lives to make up for. And that came about by means of action.

“I thought that you were dead. Don’t you understand that?” Natasha’s eyes were full of sorrow and accusation. Your cheeks flushed and you stared into the icy waters. She had every right to be mad. “When they dragged you away I was sure they were going to execute you. Again.”

The reference stung. When the Red Room found out you’d broken your programming they’d practically beaten you to death in front of Natasha before shipping you back to HYDRA. The scars still burned in your dreams.

An apology formed on your lips. “I know,” she said. The bitterness had burned itself out of her tone. What was left you couldn’t describe. A profound understanding, edges brightened by the hope of a fresh start.

An unspoken something lingered in the cool morning air.

Natasha grabbed your gloved hand and intertwined her fingers with yours. She leaned over and rested her head on your shoulder. A warmth bloomed in your chest.

You thought that, just maybe, you’d found where you were supposed to be.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader

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marciabrady · 8 months

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it's so funny to me that the princess our culture associates fundamentally with passivity offers credos which are among the most active and powerful of any in the fairytale canon

first and foremost, cinderella communicates that we all are what we contribute.

cinderella saves the mice and fosters an environment of collaboration, harmony, and unity that's harbored by her own industrious nature. mind you, she does all of this against her stepfamily's wishes, actively defying them, and creating a counterculture in the process.

as the story team intended the animals to be a reflection of their human counterpart, notice how cinderella's kindred are uniformly hardworking, intentionally kind, and approach every situation with their best foot forward, adapting a problem-solving mindset that collectively aids them all in their shared progression toward the betterment of themselves and the world around them. take the very first scene in which we see cinderella and the culture she's created, for instance:

everyone has a hand in the first chores of the day and they're all choosing to do it with a smile on their face. key word: choosing. because this isn't an idly happy lot whose joy is an accident of their own nature or something that's easy. their happiness is something they have to be mindful of and, in many cases, fight against themselves to achieve. because, guess what? their life is terrible. they've been reduced to living in a dusty attic room of a decaying house. many of them were saved from death by cinderella, herself, and know that if they venture too far outside of the safe quarters she's provided, or if they allow themselves to be seen in some way, they'll be back at death's doorstep. the danger and stress they live under would cause anyone to snap, or anyone to never want to get out of bed, which is why we see them looking like this in one of the most relatable openings of all time:

i mean, cinderella canonically hits the snooze button:

the birds literally have to force her to wake up, initially:

and once she does wake up, she's playful and pleasant and kind, yes. but that doesn't last long- the clock immediately tries her by reminding her of the daily toil she must face in order to maintain the food and shelter that's tantamount to, not only her own survival, but that of this tiny community that she's the unofficial mayor over and continues to be responsible for. she has to sustain herself and the others she's collected around her by choosing to live life the way she does. this kindness is something she has to pay for, every day. and she physically snarls at being reminded of the hand life's dealt her:

and you know what? that's a very human quality that everyone can identify with in some regard because it's hard, even if you are someone who loves life and the people around you, to keep going in spite of the challenges you face. being positive, plainly put, is something that's difficult and you have to keep reengaging yourself to be because it isn't a natural state for most people, and especially not people that have been treated as unkindly as cinderella. let's not forget that she lost both of her parents at a young, formative age, and from that time in her youth when, like all other children, she deserved to be supported and loved and protected, she was literally "abused, humiliated" and "forced" into being a literal "servant in her own house." she had no security- both of her parents were gone, she had no money to fall back on, no education, no means with which to leave the house, and to try to get a job in that world and environment- as unlikely as it would've been to obtain in the first place (which, again is so relatable- look at the staffing shortages and people struggling to find employment today)- would've been contingent upon references of some sort, and we all know that lady tremaine definitely would've either a) ran a smear campaign against cinderella to absolve herself and the family name of any personal fault or b) prevented cinderella from ever leaving in the first place so that no one would ever know that atrocities the tremaines forced her to endure from the time she was practically an infant.

she wakes up after barely being able to sleep, probably, due to all the daily chores she must, alone, accomplish to keep an entire estate afloat. everyone is depending on her, from the stepfamily to the mice to the grounds of her family's home itself. her body's practically aching from the lack of rest, the physical work she's forced to do every day, from sleeping on such an uncomfortable bed. the only place she feels remotely safe is in this drafty attic, which smells of fraying wood and aging artifacts and is in a constate state of decay, with weeds growing in the sides of the tower. that's not even mentioning the emotional turmoil, the ptsd, the grief, the neglect, the physical abuse she's also processing at any given moment

so, yeah, cinderella snaps. and there are times she snaps later on in the film but she always reels herself in and consciously makes the choice to never succumb to her circumstances. this is what makes cinderella extraordinary. she singlehandedly- and actively- ends the cycle of abuse through the behavior and choices she partakes in every single day.

and, again, this isn't something that's easy for someone who has been in survival mode for a majority of their life. but the conscious choices, active efforts, and mindful decisions cinderella makes is what frees the household from that cycle of abuse continuing. i mentioned earlier that the animals are supposed to be a parallel to their human counterparts. remember how we meet gus? he's just been caught in a trap, doesn't have anything to wear, and is literally recoiling in fear. due to his terror and his own need to defend himself out of instinct, he attempts to make himself come off as threatening as possible and is ready to pop off the minute that jaq approaches him:

but, through cinderella's influence, she's able to give him hope once more. she treats him warmly, pairs him up with a buddy to go through life with, comes up with a name- and even a nickname- for him, gives him a community, a safe haven, and clothes him. in that short time, look at the difference she's made in his mood, his demeanor, even his approach to life:

and it isn't just the mice cinderella's this way with. in the opening slides, we see cinderella holding an adorable puppy dog. but as the film progresses, and the narrator details the despair the family estate has fallen into, that puppy dog turns into an old, starved bloodhound who's secretly sleeping on the floor of the cold kitchen to keep from freezing to death. he has to keep even his dreams to himself so as to not be heard by the stepfamily and potentially kicked out. he openly hates lucifer but cinderella encourages him to think of lucifer's good points too, even if she can't think of any herself, to be able to continue successfully cohabiting this environment with him. and when he pounces on lucifer, deserved or not, she puts an end to this:

because cinderella knows what will ever happen if bruno allows himself to give into his impulses, to treat others as life has treated him, to attempt to retaliate in an impossible environment when the odds are already against you. you'll harm yourself the most and perpetuate that cycle.

but, just as bruno is a reflection of cinderella, notice how gleeful lucifer is in falsely incriminating bruno, so that another being who's never wronged him will be unjustly punished and suffer:

this is what separates cinderella from the tremaines. this is why she is the heroine and they will never be, despite how many people you see empathizing with how unfairly life must've treated them for being the "conventionally unattractive" characters in the film, or for having a single mother which to them denotes less resources, or for being awkward, or for whatever other reason of the month they're being rewritten to be the victims.

if we are the sum of our contributions, the tremaines are nothing and that is definitely a reflection of their reality. they only feel alive when they're making fun of cinderella or humiliating her by continuing that cycle of abuse they passively adhere to and never challenge. remember how we met cinderella and her friends, gathering their spirits and putting on a smile, despite how hard it is with the troubles that face them? how they look past that to work together and try to change life for the better?

the tremaines can't be bothered to get out of bed. the truly passive, lazy characters, they grog about in dim rooms, turning around in their fine silks and ornate finery, while a being they literally enslaved is being forced to do their bidding. and they refuse to actively participate in their very charmed and privileged life. they can't even find a reason to be happy- but instead are upset when cinderella enters their room. they want to know why she's taken so long, to hurry up, to continue to wait on them, hand and foot. when she asks them how they're doing, they grumble, "as if you care." because they don't care about anyone else, so why would others care about them? and that type of apathy breeds resentment, which- in the wake of such sedentary creatures- seeks manifestation and results in destruction. the stepsisters get out of their comfortable beds only when they have the opportunity to point their finger at cinderella, to get their mother to punish her. again, they feel alive by inflicting pain on others, it's literally what gets them out of bed:

again, as the parallel, this goes for lucifer, too:

as cinderella nears lady tremaine's bed, her stepmother's eyes blaze with fury, hatred plain on her face:

lady tremaine doesn't move, her hand only lifting to stroke lucifer, who has the biggest grin on his face. meanwhile, the desperation is evident in cinderella. she isn't quite defeated, because she does stick up for herself three times in the scene. but she's tired of this. she's tired of being tormented by her only family, of having the odds stacked against her even when she's doing everything in her power to live as peacefully and productively as possible, of being forced to fight a losing battle that will never result in peace but will only further prompt hatred, and division, and anger. in her expression, there's almost a plea for lady tremaine:

it isn't until she sees cinderella's expression, she hears cinderella try to explain what happened, that she livens up. because she has the opportunity to, again, keep that cycle of abuse alive, to actively try to destroy cinderella's quality of life and to profit off the position of power she's in over cinderella. look at the difference in lady tremaine's expression in the previous cap, and in this one, when she believes she's silenced cinderella and is preparing to tear into her:

one of the best instances through which i can further illustrate this ideology (you are what you contribute) is in a later scene, where we see the stepsisters discard their fine wares, labeling it trash and flinging the luxuries life's afforded them to scorn. it's nothing to them.

yet, to the mice and cinderella, it isn't nothing. because, remember, the royal proclamation declared that every eligible maiden should attend. at first, the stepmother refuses to let cinderella go and even the stepsisters brush her aside with classist comments. when cinderella sticks up for herself by reminding them she's still a member of the family, and by trapping them in the language of the royal decree "every eligible maiden," lady tremaine has no choice but to consent- on the grounds that cinderella is able to make herself eligible through producing a suitable dress. because, remember, cinderella isn't seen as a person. she's seen as subhuman, someone who's reduced to wearing tatters and isn't seen as a person in the eyes of their society unless she has social indicators of wealth via her clothing, in this specific instance. drizella and anastasia never have to think about that, because they exist as people of value in their society due to their good fortune that they had no part in creating. they don't know what it's like to be laughed at, to not be considered eligible or even a person in the eyes of society the way that cinderella's lived experience has reflected since her father died. meanwhile, the tremaines are so deep in their own privilege, that they're literally waving it around like it's a rag and carelessly tossing it away. yet, what does cinderella do, with much less?

cinderella makes do with what little she has, always to help someone else. and because of this active kindness, it changes the mindset of those around her. since she's afforded this to so many of the mice, what do they do for her in return?

what a difference in how cinderella and the stepfamily approaches what's, essentially, the same material? and this community that cinderella has established and continually maintained and influenced comes to each other's aid, time and time again. whether it's cinderella freeing the mice from death, or giving them clothing, or allowing bruno to sleep inside unbeknownst to the stepfamily, or the mice turning into a LITERAL army and battleground in cinderella's honor:

again, this community is just as active and vital as cinderella, herself, is. because those values i mentioned earlier, of helping one another and rising above your circumstances and working together, aren't just whimsical morals cinderella sings about. they're constant behaviors she's actively taking part in and impact the household they all share, to the point where when they help each other take action when the time is right. they're constantly conferring with one another on how to best use their community and the resources this offers to get closer to victory. (meanwhile, the stepfamily is only for themselves; anastasia and drizella literally repeatedly hit each other and compete, even to the point of giving conflicting stories to the grand duke that makes their pathetic attempt seem all the more discreditable at alleging they were the princess at the ball the night before) we see it in how cinderella and her friends accomplish their chores together, in how the mice plan to get her dress remade while she's busy, even in how cinderella's quick thinking leads to calling upon bruno, who must be awoken by the birds with an interjecting call from the horse, and how this leads to all of their escape:

because, this community also knows when it to fight and support one another in times of battle and when the goal will bring about a victory that will ultimately reign peace; they know when it's worth it for a shared goal and the benefit of all parties involved. and the difference cinderella brought into that household is what gave them all glory and helped them, not only survive, but succeed. it isn't just the poor scullery maid we see ascend in the closing chapter of the film. we see the same bluebirds who attempted to wake her up in the beginning of the film holding her wedding veil:

we see those same mice that she nursed from death, and clothed, and fed, and loved; the mice that risked their lives in remaking her deceased mother's dress so that cinderella might, too, have a chance to go to the ball; they're still here, cheering her on and throwing rice in blessing at the happy couple, their own clothing being upgraded to reflect that of the royal staff:

we see that starved bloodhound and the old horse leading the royal regiment, as beautiful and shining and proud as their majestic counterparts:

and this is the world that cinderella, as a character, offers. not a world in which multiple parties are at competition with one another over who's the prettiest, or the wealthiest, or where hatred breeds continual hatred. but she presents us a world in which everyone deserves to be seen, heard and valued; where everyone can find a community they can contribute to and have purpose in and be worthy of experiencing love, whatever you determine love to be whether it's romantic or in the form of a found family.

a world in which everyone can go to the ball:

#mine #marciabrady #cinderella #cinderella 1950 #this was supposed to be 2 credos but i got carried away #maybe i'll write the other one in a future installment #but ahhh it feels so nice to be back #*ahem* if you learned anything from this or were inspired please source or credit #creative larceny isn't cool!

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natasha-in-space · 3 months

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No thoughts, just soft mornings with Saeran.

Being an early bird at heart, he always wakes up before you do. Plus, he loves watching the sun rise in the mornings, while the entire world is still asleep, and he can enjoy being one with nature and the sky above him. It gives him a sense of peace and freedom he never grows tired of. Being able to walk out into the fresh morning air and just sit there, watching the sky for as long as he likes, is a luxury he treasures with all his heart. Sometimes you wake up early enough to join him, though you are much too drowsy to get all poetical about the sun rising with him, preferring instead to just nuzzle into his shoulder with a gruff little hum as he strokes through your hair and murmurs his observations to you.

But on most mornings, you stay in bed for a good few hours. Saeran is not bothered by it. In fact, he never gets tired of waking up surrounded by your warmth and nestled up against your chest. On some days, he still finds himself getting all choked up as he look on at your peacefully sleeping form pressed up against him like the perfect puzzle piece he was always missing. It's entirely possible that he's just too sappy, as Saeyoung sometimes jokes about. But he wants to never stop cherishing what you have brought into his life with your loving soul and a gentle heart. It's easy for him to get a bit lost in his own head and start whispering sweet nothings to you that you may or may not hear, depending on how deep your sleep is.

He'll often end up just laying there with you, listening to your breathing, and gently stroking your face with the most adoring smile a man can muster. There are some days when you are fortunate enough to wake up to that smile. Although, this is not so lucky if you have somewhere to be on that particular day. It is practically impossible to will yourself to get out of bed and deny yourself the possibility of hours of cuddles.

Occasionally, you will wake up to the soft sounds of kitchen clutter. Saeran always makes it a point to cook breakfast for you guys. It'll look different, depending on what your needs and preference are, but it will always make you feel fulfilled and ready to start your day with a clear head on your shoulders. One of your favorite things to do is to paddle over to the kitchen right after getting out of bed, and watching him cook silently, with a smile on your face. Seeing him relaxed and happy like that makes him look so unbelievably cute. At times, he might even hum along or mumble to himself adorably. Of course, you will eventually come up to him and wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him from behind and placing a quick little kiss right below his ear, smiling at the slightest of shivers your warm touch provides.

On certain days, this could very well turn into a lengthy kissing session between you two that may or may not lead to anything more, depending on your preferences. Just be sure to turn off the stoves and ovens, because the last time you accidentally burned Saeran's cookies, he ended up pouting at you for the rest of the day. Of course, you knew that was just playful banter on his part, but you don't want to make the same mistake twice!

If the weather is pleasant and warm, you'll eat your breakfast out in the garden and take in the morning sun and fresh air under some lighthearted conversation. Saeran will ensure that any bugs that may be bothering you are kept away from you, if that's something you don't want to deal with!

It's common for Saeyoung to wake up last among the three of you. Saeran's gentle scolding about the need for a proper sleep schedule has improved his sleeping habits significantly, but he remains a night owl at heart. He'll usually come out yawning and stretching in the middle of your breakfast. And, while he has his own portion ready and waiting for him, he'll always make it a point to steal a bite from you or Saeran with a cheeky little grin.

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #saeran choi #choi saeran #ge saeran #good ending saeran #mystic messenger ge saeran #saeran x reader #ge saeran x reader #me being sappy on main???#more likely than you think

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black-amortentia · 5 months

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Forgotten Nor Forsaken | Preparations - Snolidays 2023

Severus Snape x Professor!Reader | Warnings: Secret relationship, just fluff and some making out, I let Severus be happy for five minutes, I tried to edit better but I was in a hurry so please excuse mistakes!

This is my story for week three "Preparations" of Snolidays 2023! Though all parts can be read independently, I think I have a fun little narrative going. You can read Week One and Week Two, if you like.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Glittering baubles, tiny fairy lights, and silvery ornaments covered the tree in the Great Hall. You were doing your part, levitating glowing glass balls, so they were dispersed among the green boughs. You keep glancing through the hall, hoping to glimpse the pale face you’d come to appreciate, but there was no use. Severus cared little for Christmas, after all.

Maybe you would just have to take the preparations to him.

Carrying a plate holding two festive cookies, you made your way down the stairs to the dungeons. The familiar path to the potions classroom was gloomy as ever, the stone passages resistant to the application of holiday cheer. Much like the man who called the domain home.

Severus didn’t even look up when you waltzed into the classroom. He could sense your presence now, trained himself not to react due to the clandestine nature of your relationship. Though you earned a raised eyebrow when you shut the door, locking it with a wave of your wand.

His lips twisted into a scowl when you set the cookies in front of him, interrupting what he was working on. “What are you doing?”

You came up behind his chair and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek. “Bringing some Christmas cheer to the person who needs it most.”

“I’ve no need of cheer,” Severus grumbled. “Not sure what the point is of it all.”

“It’s supposed to be a time for gratitude. Togetherness.”

A scoff. “Grateful? For what?”

You cupped his cheek with one hand, turning his face to yours. Severus’s dark eyes meet yours, softening slightly when he looked at you. “I wish you would talk to me.”

There was so much Severus seemed to hold back. Like he just couldn’t open up to you all the way. You couldn’t help but think he would be happy if he could unburden himself to someone. Couldn’t he trust you that much by now?

“It is difficult to find joy in these miserable days when so much that was joyous in my life has been lost to me.”

Moving to kneel in front of his chair, you took his face in your hands. “Happiness hasn’t completely forsaken you, Severus. If you would just let it in.”

A flurry of emotion ran through his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“No. I suppose it wouldn’t be.” You took out your wand again. “Maybe I have a different tradition you’ll find more appealing.”

With a swish of your wand, a little sprig of mistletoe appears above your heads, bobbing in the air. You gave Severus a little grin, which he returned with a smirk. A tug on your hands brought you into Severus’s lap, his arms circling your waist.

“Now this is some holiday cheer I see value in.” His voice was low before his lips claimed yours.

Severus’s kiss was hungry and heated, stealing your breath away. His arms enveloped you, squeezing you tightly against his solid chest. You grasped his shoulders to steady yourself, going weak at the relentless movements of his mouth.

When you finally broke apart, gasping, Severus’s hold didn’t loosen. His intense, dark eyes bored into yours. Your thumb stroked gently over his sallow cheek. Severus turned his head, pressing a kiss to your palm that made your heart flutter.

“I think you need to get out of this dark dungeon of yours for a while,” you whispered in his ear. “You know where to meet me.”

You pressed one more kiss to his lips before hopping off his lap. You snatched one of the cookies from the plate, chewing it thoughtfully as you climbed the stairs out of the dungeons.

Minerva caught your eye when you stopped off to fetch your scarf and gloves. “Where are you off to?”

“Just a walk. The grounds are so lovely with all the snow.”

“Alone?”

You forced a light laugh. “Who would I go with, Minerva?”

“Hmm…” the older woman muttered with a click of her tongue.

You tried not to falter as you wrapped your scarf around your neck. Surely Minerva didn’t know? Of course, if anyone was shrewd enough to see what you and Severus were hiding, it would be the headmistress.

But you wouldn’t give her anything to aid any suspicions she might have. Maintaining your nonchalance, you followed your usual path out of the castle, cheerfully greeting students and professors along the way.

The little clearing outside the Forbidden Forest had become a haven for you and Severus. Secluded and peaceful, the trees bore witness to countless moments of tenderness and passion between the two of you. Severus would never follow you out directly, but you suspected he had his own sneaky ways out of the castle. There was no telling when he would appear, and you only had a little time to prepare for your plan.

Footsteps crunching in the snow alerted you to Severus’s approach. You crouched among the evergreens, well hidden, watching him scan the clearing for you. He called your name, confusion lacing his voice. When his back was to you, you struck.

A wet splat echoed in the clearing, an explosion of white stark against Severus’s black cloak. Severus whirled around with a glare, preparing to yell at an unruly student. Instead, he was met with the sight of you stepping out of the trees, covering your laughter with your hand.

He narrowed his eyes at you. “You summoned me out here for this buffoonery?”

“Afraid you’ll lose?”

That had the intended effect.

Cold bloomed on your shoulder as the snowball fell apart on impact. The smirk on Severus’s face was familiar, but the playful twinkle in his dark eyes almost stopped your heart. You quickly kneeled down and scooped up another handful of snow, determined to take advantage of the moment.

No sooner did you lob the snowball at Severus before one hit you square in the chest. The game was on.

Once quiet and still, the clearing became unrecognizable. The sound of your combined laughter filled the air. The blanket of snow that had covered the ground was in shambles. You were so hurried and uncaring in your movements that you stopped taking the time to form snowballs, flinging handfuls of loose snow at each other.

Doubled over with laughter, your fingers frozen, clothes damp, you were just about to surrender. Severus bent over to scoop up more flakes of ammunition,. He slipped on a patch of ice and went tumbling backwards.

With a little gasp, you hurried over to him. “Severus? Are you all right?”

When you drew close enough, he grabbed your hand and pulled you down on top of him.

“I win.”

His hands gripped your waist, and you found yourself entranced by his face. Eyes glittering brightly, cheeks flushed, lips curled up in a genuine smile. It was the first time you ever saw him so truly and unashamedly happy.

Your faces were cold as you fell into the kiss, but you hardly noticed. Instinctively, your hands went to Severus’s hair, though your woolen gloves prevented you from running your fingers through it properly. Severus held you closer against him, deepening the kiss. One hand squeezed your waist, the other skimming up and down your back.

You pulled away, licking your lips and raising your eyebrow at him. “Sugar cookie?”

“I didn’t want to waste it.”

You were tempted to make a snarky comment about the happiness of the holidays. Even if you were willing to ruin the moment, Severus pulled you into another kiss before you could speak. His claim on your mouth would not let up anytime soon.

You stayed in each other’s arms for a while; the heat blooming between you staving off the wintry air. You let the rest of the world fall away, content knowing that maybe you’d finally brought some honest joy into Severus’s life.

#severus snape #pro snape #pro severus snape #professor snape #snape #snape fandom #snolidays2023 #snapecelebration2023 #severus snape fluff #severus snape x reader #severus snape x y/n #severus snape x you #severus snape x reader fluff #harry potter

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qierxing · 1 year

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okay but what NRC had an exchange program? (and even more dramatic, from RSA?)

Heartslabyul is welcoming to you as the dorm tasked with making sure you are comfortable with them for the duration of the program. And even if it means memorizing the hefty long list of the Queen's rules, you have to say that each day in the dorm is never a boring one. Ace and Deuce challenged you to a duel the second you stepped through the doorway; which you accepted, not because you were actually goaded into it, but rather it was rather cute to see them so worked up about 'showing how they're better than some prissy RSA kid'. They lost, much to their mortification and to their upperclassman's amusement. Cater recorded the whole fight and while Ace is begging for him to delete the video, Trey praises you for your magical ability. It certainly takes getting used to, but gradually Ace doesn't try to rat you out all time to Riddle in hopes of getting you kicked out. Riddle may have been someone who religiously upheld his dorm's rules, but you saw him for what he was: a young prodigy who had been pushed to the limit. Besides, you can't take him seriously when he makes that cute pout! It's a ball everyday with them, whether it be studying together, having a merry Unbirthday party, or playing a casual game of croquet with the flamingos and hedgehogs. Though, as the end of the program draws closer, there's a strange tension in their eyes and when you thank them for the time spent together they frown rather than smile. It's getting to be a little discomforting, but you don't know that they're planning to make your stay permanent.

you had your doubts about Savannaclaw, but after some time passed, Leona warms up to you and somehow the nickname "herbivore" has a fond tinge when he demands you do something for him. Even if Ruggie says otherwise, he's also begun to slip you treats when you're struggling with your homework, saying the sugar helps and he expects help with Leona's laundry later. Jack is a friend you befriend all too easily, his honest and eager personality endearing himself to you well. You have to hold yourself from laughing when his tail wags at your compliments, how could he be so adorable? Lately, though, they've been high strung. It's getting to the point where Leona snaps at Ruggie for taking you from your shared chess game, while Ruggie barks back that he needs someone to help him with the laundry list of chores the prince saddled him with, all while Jack scoffs from the sidelines and herds you off to a private study session. You've heard about pack solidarity being common among beastmen, but this is the first time you're feeling it this strongly, and personally, at that. But it's not comforting at all to see them finally band together under Leona's leadership. not when you're left staring at the poor bloke who's bleeding out from a multitude of lacerations, just for the crime of throwing playground insults at you.

your fellow classmates give you a pitying look when Headmaster Crowley announces that you will be under the care of Octavinelle's dorm. at first, you're not sure why, because Azul greets you with a gentlemanly smile and bow, but as you spend more time with Jade and Floyd in the Mostro Lounge, you see why. although his one track mind on profits is a bit off-putting, you would be lying if you weren't impressed with his work ethic. He's true to his dorm's spirit of benevolence, but you've seen the glint in his eye when he tells you that you're free to ask him for any help...at the correct price. You aren't keen on getting into trouble during your stay so you smile politely and say you'll keep it in mind. It troubles him greatly though: you so easily cover Floyd's shifts without complaining when he goes off on his moods, not because of the possible money earned, but rather just to help him and Floyd out. What an absurd thought. But it comes to dawn on him that you're just naturally helpful, to the point where even Jade has commented he worries for how easily you will drop something to help someone. It's now common to be flanked by the twins, and if not them, then their infamous housewarden is enough to ward off unwanted ruffians. While you're unsure of why you've suddenly become a VIP in Azul's eyes, you're not willing to pry further, not arguing when Floyd cackles and drags you along to do something fun or Jade asks you to taste test his drinks for him. You won't like the constraints put on you, he knows, but you don't know what's good for you. being nice to others has never lent itself to anyone in NRC, and if he has to snare you in his own contract under his care to show you, then he has no qualms doing so.

most likely, you heard of Scarabia before, because Kalim being heir to the Asim clan is already very well known in RSA, and you've heard his cousin talk about him in passing between classes. What you weren't expecting was the very enthusiastic greeting he gives you as his vice housewarden sighs with a weary face that seemed quite used to this scenario. You're a bit overwhelmed, to be honest. Kalim's prepared a whole banquet to welcome you to the dorm, and you're not sure if you can keep up with his unlimited energy in the upcoming weeks. Poor Jamil, you often try to make his side a bit easier, whether it be collecting everyone's dishes for him at the end of the meal or helping tidy the place after the numerous banquets Kalim impulsively holds. That's not to say you dislike Kalim per say, but you cannot deny Jamil's knowing glance when the two of you were struggling to hold Kalim back from his next impulsive move. It's not all bad. You've learned how to cook Scalding Sands cuisine courtesy of Jamil and Kalim is really fun when it comes to show you new kinds of dances at parties. This exchange program has really broadened your horizons just as you hoped when you applied! Then Kalim drops a bomb on you out of nowhere—mentioning something about how he asked for Crowley for permission to get you actually transferred to NRC just like he did. What? Why are you so surprised? You liked spending time with them, right? Then you should just transfer! Kalim's intentions may have been good, but you catch a glimpse of Jamil's smirk behind him, not even changing when he sees your desperate gaze.

same with Pomefiore, as there is no one in Twisted Wonderland who hasn't heard of Vil Schoenheit (unless they've been living under a rock). You're a bit intimidated under his cool gaze, but he beckons you closer and a small breath of relief leaves you when he merely adjusts your uniform and starts showing you around. In time, you learn to live with the big shadow that Vil casts in Pomefiore, now accustomed to seeing the star's face in real life rather than on television. Besides, you've discovered he's rather down to earth more than you expected, often giving you advice on how to treat your skin when it acts up as usual or diets that are tailored to help you. It makes it easier to see Vil for, well, a dorm housewarden and regular third year, rather than Vil, the untouchable star. Epel rolls his eyes when you try to gently defend Vil whenever he complains about his strict routines of deep cleaning the lounge and skincare for the whole dorm. Rook smiles at you mysteriously at his side, proclaiming 'how wonderful that someone from RSA understands the pursuit of beauty!', whatever that meant. Flattered as you are that Vil has now warmed up to you, you don't like how his gaze has become suffocating to be under, always by his side like some accessory piece to his look. Epel helps you escape his eyes several times now, but you're starting to believe that it's no longer as innocent as just helping a fellow student get a breath of air from Vil's unmoving thumb. Besides, there's been a feeling of being watched on these excursions...as if someone was tracking your every movement, and it's unnerving to the point of glancing behind you every so often. Hopefully things will return back to normal now that you're about to head back to RSA. Perhaps you should forgo the farewell dinner and toast that the three offer you before you leave.

you were very confused on who was supposed to be helping you in Ignihyde. Ortho insisted he wasn't the housewarden, but you haven't seen the housewarden for a week now. Are you missing something here? Idia almost screams your ears off when you bump into him in the communal kitchen when you were trying to get water (who the hell makes instant noodles at two in the morning??). Wasn't the most pleasant first meeting, but Ortho tries his best to get his older brother to show himself outside his tablet, and sometimes he succeeds, even if there's mostly awkward silences between you two. He's getting better and you realize when you sit down to play a game with Ortho that more often than not, Idia will come slinking out of his room like a feral cat to join you. You begin to actually exchange more conversations over his inventions, both your technical skills a mutual connection. You're good with your hands and combined with Idia's technological prowess, the two of you come to make some seriously impressive artful masterpieces. He gets very flustered with all the new, genuinely awed attention from the others, and when you tell him it's a good thing, he mutters something under his breath and hides behind his hair. You suppose it takes time, being under the spotlight could be unnerving for someone who has debilitating social anxiety. But it seems like Idia is regressing into old habits that Ortho pushed him out of, staying in his room hours on end, and when you try to see what the problem is, he breaks down and starts going off about ungrateful people and how you deserve someone better than a loser than him. When you end up staying to console, you miss the smirk he hides under your arms as he clicks the door locks shut with a press of a button.

before you even got to process being in Diasomnia, Sebek gave you a whole lecture to "demonstrate proper manners before his master!" before he was held back by Silver and Lilia with several apologies. The so called 'master' doesn't even blink an eye as he observes you before turning around, effectively a full dismissive snub. You're a bit offended, but you don't dare say anything, what with Sebek glaring at you and also Malleus being known for being a powerful mage which you were not willing to test. So you resign yourself to having not so pleasant stay at the dorm, but perhaps you're a bit too harsh. Silver is rather kind and even if he falls asleep over your shared study sessions, he was still much preferable to his adoptive father, who has no idea how to cook something edible. Or his underclassman, who often sneers down at your nose for being human for the weirdest of reasons. Things only start to change ever so slightly when you help Malleus with printing out his homework for Trein's class. Since then, he insists on going to you for tech issues constantly, like some middle aged mother asking her child to fix her phone that has a thousand browser tabs open. Sebek starts to lighten up somewhat when he sees that you're not hostile to his lord and grumpily acknowledges that you've been helpful, but only just a little bit! Don't delude yourself that you were on par with him, an actual retainer! You've begun to realize that this is just how Sebek acts and over time begun to get used to his loud and blunt remarks just as you got used to Silver falling asleep in your study sessions. Lilia, for how esteemed he is hailed as, profoundly changes your perspective when he presents to you a burnt crisp of chicken legs, meant to be a snack for you to thank you for socializing his 'little ducklings'. He merely cackles when you take his dish and tell him that his food tastes absolutely terrible. He just pats your head and floats off to who knows where, leaving you with an indescribable taste in your mouth. You'd think it's just a tasteless prank between students but when you're bedridden from the food and the four of them are the only ones that are taking care of you, it's become a bit unsettling. Silver may have stopped his 'old man' to not feed you his concoctions again, but why is it that you're not getting any better from this food poisoning? Strange...if this keeps up, you won't be able to head back to RSA on time. When you worriedly ask Lilia and Malleus about this, they merely tilt their heads and smile with fanged teeth. "Don't worry your pretty little head about that." is the last thing they leave you with, before you're left alone in your bedroom, too sick to even move.

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #my works

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twistedwonderlandfantasies · 10 months

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(Repost)

Azul Ashengrotto as Your Boyfriend💜🪸🐚🐙💜

fluffy, fem/neutral!reader

(Sorry it ended up so long I could just talk about this smexy man all day) Remember to drink water <3

Azul had heard a lot about the human world, but only ever experienced it when he enrolled at Night Raven College. That being said, he's totally enthralled with human objects. He loves collectables, novelty items, knick-knacks and anything of the sort. His love and fascination with our material goods shows when he gives you the most random things. "Look at this vintage set I found at an auction." "I saw a what's it called? Ah, snow globe. Look, there's a cat inside that looks like Grim, do you like? It's for you." It's a very endearing trait he has which is exclusive only to you. When he goes shopping you're also on his mind and just adores sharing his finds with his love.

Similarly, your own fascination with his world has led Azul to gift you things from the sea. Beautiful pearl necklaces of whatever color you like, conch shells of different sizes and types, endless seashells, rare gemstones found near the waters, magical items, and if you're into antiques, he'll go retrieve lost items from the sea buried within shipwrecks or dropped by people.

Besides the miscellaneous gifts Azul loves buying you clothes. At first it caught you by surprise, but you realized it was apart of his attraction to our things. "In the sea we don't have a need for clothing, but up here you humans can express yourselves in so many ways. So I thought this dress might look rather nice on you, hm?"

He's the same with perfumes. He just loves spoiling you in all the material things he can find that don't exist in the deep blue.

His office literally has all of the gifts you got him spread out in it on shelves and his desk. He constantly thinks of you, even at work, and treasures everything you make/get him, wanting to keep it forever where he can always see and remember you.

One of his favorite activities with you is reading messages in bottles he finds from the ocean. You're always surprised at how many there are, but you both realize it's actually a pretty big hobby among people even today. Old bottles are especially interesting, its contents mostly containing stories of love and tragedies. You help explain to Azul how people up here think and behave when something doesn't make sense to him (which is pretty often considering how contradicting people are). You collect them to avoid polluting the waters but keep them somewhere safe and respectfully.

He absolutely loves taking you into the waters with him. Whether in human or mer-form. If you love to swim then it isn't much of a surprise to have him as your boyfriend, but if you can't swim or are afraid to Azul will teach you how and be the absolute best, sweetest teacher. Bonus if you watch the sunset together while leisurely swimming or sitting on the sand, it's quite romantic, really. Expect the occasional water tag and playing around as Azul just can't help but tease you when he feels so confident in his natural environment. this may or may not end in some more intimate actions.

Ironically, Azul finds your voice mesmerizing. If he catches you singing while you think no one is around, he WILL stay hidden just to continue listening. "You sing like a siren my dear." "Are you sure you aren't the one who's put me under your spell?" He may come up behind you quietly, wrapping his arms around your waist gently in an embrace while taking in the soft smell of your hair. "Please, don't stop now, I do so enjoy listening to you."

While transformation magic from mer-person to human is more commonly done, transforming a person into the latter is more difficult, but not impossible. The first time you decide to transform into a mermaid , it catches Azul by surprise. You really want to immerse yourself into his world and live in the sea for however long. After much consideration you decide to do it. Who would have thought your tail would be so beautiful. The way your hair flows, you glide effortlessly across the waters, the iridescent scales of your tail reflecting in colorful arrays. Maybe you are a siren. Azul can't decide if he loves you more like this or as a human. You're just too beautiful no matter what.

You two swimming across Atlantica is like a dream; so deeply in love. You get to explore so many amazing things and bond with him in ways you never could have imagined. He shows you all of the different kind of fish, corals, you get to swim with dolphins and sharks, visit different mer-cities. Expect Azul to blow you bubble hearts and kisses because he really can be that cute sometimes.

extra fun if the twins tag along.

His skin, like the twins, is also perfectly soft and radiant. Your hands love to be on him. You caress his cheeks, massage him, rub your thumb over his palm while holding hands. You're almost jealous at how good his skin is! Of course Azul is more than willing to return the favors of touch. You two enjoy long cuddles and hugs.

Honestly, Azul is a 100/10 boyfriend and when he isn't destroying unsuspecting people with his contracts he's just infatuated with you beyond description and if he could he would love on you constantly all day everyday. His soft side is ONLY for you, his gentle touches and kisses, his thoughtful words, the teasing, sweet nothings. Sometimes the dichotomy of this man shocks you, but maybe that's one of the reasons you love him so much.

"The sea witch was defeated by the mermaid and human in the end. Some say it was true love which was strong enough to end her, I used to laugh at that thought, now, I'm beginning to understand its true power."

💙💜💚💜💙💚💜💙💚💜💙💚

#azul ashengrotto #night raven college #twst azul #azul x reader #octavinelle #disney twst #disney twisted #disney twist #disney twisted wonderland #twsted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland

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johnny-slaughter-me · 9 months

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— “ 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐀𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭. ” | Johnny Slaughter x Gender-Neutral Reader.

Headcanon. My take on a fluffy alphabet with Johnny.

Notes. English isn't my native language so typos and grammar issues are likely.

Warnings. This fic is sfw. Canon gore and cannibalism mentioned.

Enjoy. I hope you enjoy the content. Much love, Cherry. 🍒

- A. Activities, how they spend their time with and without their s/o.

Without you, Johnny mostly spends his time hunting or preparing for hunts. Hunting is (almost) everything for him. It gives him a thrill to chase and a sadistic satisfaction when he kills his prey. With you he'd grown to love more of what nature the backyard has to offer, whether it would be the sunflower fields or stargazing at night from the bed of his truck. He really enjoyed spending time with you and had learned to appreciate the simple moments you two could share together.

- B. Beauty, what do they find pretty about themselves and their s/o.

Johnny has a charming look, he maintains a certain figure as it helps him in hunts and in loring and tricking victims, Johnny wouldn't be out here calling himself beautiful. He boosts his ego though other means, mostly ones relying on strength and power, so he finds his arms to be one of his most admirable physical features of himself. As for you, it was something in your eyes, that captured him and had made him decide to keep you as own of the family rather then dinner. He'd learn so much about just from how your eyes reflected your feelings. He can get lost in them for hours if he had a chance.

- C. Comfort, how would they comfort his s/o.

Johnny isn't one to talk things through, he is a man of patience, as seen through his incredible hunting skills, but his exposure to social interactions is limited. He takes pride in how strong he is, depending on the situation he would either hold you in his arms, let you take your time to calm yourself while knowing he is there for you, or physically and verbally defend you if you are in a situation that calls for it. Needless to say, he'd kill for you.

- D. Dream, how do they picture their future with their s/o.

There's not a lot of room for change in Johnny's life, he isn't planning on it either. Family is for life, and he wants you to be a part of it. Some nights he'd dream of you finally eating human flesh and not the meat of the dead rabbits he'd hunt down for you. Help the family deal with the victims and enjoy it as much as he does. He wants you to truly devote yourself to the family just like he does .

- E. Equal, how much effort do they put in the relationship compared to their s/o.

The relationship you have with Johnny is never going to be an equal one, considering it started with you originally being kidnapped for dinner, and the fact that he and his family can always turn you into it at any given moment puts you in a powerless position. However he does his best to accommodate you, hunting rabbits so you won't eat human flesh, getting you basic necessities from his trips to the city, spending quality time with you during the short windows of time he has off "work". You had also grown to like Johnny and you try to help around the house, and spend whatever time with Johnny you can, always reassuring him that you love him.

- F. Fight, how are fights between them and their s/o.

You and Johnny haven't fought much, nothing big at least. If you had you'd probably not be among the living. Sometimes you have petty fights, but Sissy told Johnny its probably because you are still getting used to the family and the new environment you are living in. So he'd learn to ignore it. They usually end by you apologizing to him. Johnny will never apologized, at least not sincerely.

- G. Gratitude, how grateful are they for their s/o and the things their s/o is doing for them?

Whilst Johnny's mindset is that of a savior, he was the one sparing your life and thus you are now his. I would like to believe he is grateful for you not trying to tun away, for being kind to his family and to him, and for truly loving him, a love no one in the family could ever give him.

- H. Honestly, are they honest and open with their s/o? Do they have any secrets?

He doesn't really hide anything from you. You know of the family's secret and that is what mostly shape his character. He won't necessarily open up and talk about his past or feelings though, and the one time he tried hiding something from you was the fear that washed him during the first week of your stay with the family, where you hid in one of the cars because you were scared of a hunt that went down between bubba and a victim. He'd never let you see him in a vulnerable state.

- I. Inspiration, has their s/o inspired them and vice versa.

You had inspired Johnny to also enjoy his downtime and not just the hunts. You thought him that there's more to life then the adrenaline that comes with the chase. In a similar way, Johnny inspired you to be more grateful for every moment you spend breathing, and what a true community feels like. Sure they are twisted but that doesn't mean they don't inspire you every now and then. Honorable mention is how inspiring Johnny's dedication is. Both for you, the family, and for his hunts.

- J. Jealousy, how jealous are they.

Johnny is jealous and possessive, but he manipulates his jealousy so it comes off as more of a possessive aspect then a jealous one. Johnny doesn't like showing anything that could be interpreted as a weakness.

- K. Kiss, are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like.

He is surprisingly a good kisser, Johnny mostly care about his own needs and usually kisses you messily and roughly when you two have some alone time. He won't really kiss you in front of the family. He will now return a soft good morning kiss to you, but he still prefers makeout sessions over small soft kisses.

- L. Love confession, how do they confess to their s/o.

Johnny originally kidnapped you for dinner, but after taking a liking to you he just kept you alive and toyed with you. He never really confessed to loving you, but his actions throughout the time you spend with him let you know that he does indeed love you.

- M. Marriage, do they wanna get married? What would the marriage be like?

Despite how untraditional the family is, mostly Nancy, would want the two of you to get married. That would be a way to truly have you as part of them, and Johnny wouldn't oppose to the idea of marriage with you. Johnny isn't a big dreamer but after the initial start of your relationship he fell harder and harder and he truly wants you to be a part of the family. It would also make him worry less if he has to go out of town and leave you alone since the family will never turn on one another. That is if you ignore the fact that Nancy killed Johnny's mom and stole him to raise him as her own. The ring would be simple and the wedding would just be a family dinner but with some homemade decor and a little ceremony. Life after the wedding won't be much different, the day to day would be similar, however if you wanted to have any kids, the family would help keep them safe.

- N. Nicknames, what do they call their s/o and vice versa.

Johnny's pet names for you are darlin' and doll, sometimes he'd also call you a cutie. You mostly call him honey, sometimes babe, although never baby, he doesn't like being called baby. (In bed he'd give you more dirty pet names and likes it when you call him daddy).

- O. On cloud 9, what are they like when they are in love.

Johnny's love language is actions of service, he takes pride in his physical strength and appearance. He never lets you carry anything heavy even if you are capable, he protects you if you are scared of something, but also he likes to hunt animals for you since you aren't fond of their premium human meat. The family can tell Johnny is in love with you, as usually he only thinks about himself and devotes a little bit of thought for the family, but sometimes he goes out of his way to help you or be there near you.

- P. PDA, how are they with their s/o infront of others.

He won't kiss you or call you pet names infront of the family for the longest time, he didn't want them to find something to use against him, he'd be more open about your relationship once he feels the family is comfortable with you and won't try to slaughter you. But infront of anyone other than the family, Johnny he really doesn't care. He knows he can protect you and you what they think of him doesn't matter to him. He'll do whatever he wants with you.

- Q. Quirk, a random ability they have that benefits the relationship.

His truck, he sometimes takes you on rides through the different parts of land the family owns. It's refreshing for the both of you. Johnny is always the one driving, no one gets to drive his truck no matter how much he loves them.

- R. Romance, how romantic are they? Is it creative or cliché.

Johnny is romantic in his own ways. Mostly through shielding you from danger and trying to provide for you. Sometime into your relationship you started initiating some romantic times in tbe sunflower fields or through car rides with him, and now he himself offers them to you.

- S. Support, are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in their s/o?

Johnny isn't very supportive in that regard. He wants you to be part of the family, if you want to take on a certain role within the family and its not one that will possibly put you in danger, he'd be all for it. But if you dream of your old life, Johnny would go out of his way to sabotage that and try to get you to shift your goals into ones that benefit the family.

- T. Thrill, do they need new things to spice up the relationship or do they prefer a routine.

Your relationship with Johnny is limited. You can't really leave the lands the family own but even then you are limited to safer areas where living victims aren't roaming free. Johnny's life is very much based on a routine and he has no problems with the relationship being the same. But if you suggest something new to do every now and then and it is within the boundaries of where you are allowed to be, he won't say no to you.

- U. Understanding, how understanding are they of their s/o. Are they empathetic?

Johnny is narcissistic, and he cannot undo himself into a good person. He does try to be understanding and to accommodate you. Took some advice from Sissy at first, since she had actually spend time living outside the family's land in different cultes but he mostly relayed on skills he picked up to study and capture his victims to form an understanding of you.

- V. Value, how important is this relationship to them.

Your relationship with Johnny literally means the world to him. He never knew he was capable of experiencing love like this, no matter how twisted the circumstances of what formed it are. And he also knows he will never be able to experience it with anyone else, so he places a great value on you and the relationship with you.

- W. Wild card, a random fluff headcanon.

You asked Nancy about Johnny's birthday once, and she gave you the date. You took it upon yourself to try and make him something sweet for desert and you set the dinner table with some flowers you found in the garden. No one expected it, but the family, and mostly Johnny (he has a sweet tooth) really appreciate this gesture and enjoyed the dessert. Now it became a tradition that for each family member's birthday you'd set a special table with something sweet. They all looked forward to the occasion as well.

- X. Xoxo, are they very affectionate, do they love kisses and cuddles.

Johnny is a fairly rough person at first he wasn't one to really kiss you if it wasn't leading up to or during spicy times. He did let you since day one sleep in his bed with him, and as you slowly felt yourself falling for him you started snuggling up to him at night. He never pushed you away and now he can't fall asleep without you by his side.

- Y. Yearning, how are they when they miss their s/o.

The only days you and Johnny are separated is when he has to go out of town. He can't help but miss you, and he copes with his loneliness by having a side quest of getting you something you'd like. When he finally gets back home and gifts you whatever it was that he thought you'd like, seeing you thank him each time with your eyes litting up like a child opening a Christmas present makes it all worth it.

- Z. Zeal, are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship, and how so.

Considering Johnny is a serial killer, and him and his family practicing cannibalism, him letting you live- and arguing with his family to also let you live (which is a big deal for Johnny), means he did go to lengths not normal for him in order for this relationship to work.

#Cherry Writes 🍒#Johnny Slaughter #Johnny Slaughter x Reader #Johnny Slaughter x GN Reader

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