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axelsagewrites · 1 year

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Robb Stark*Cloak

Pairing: Robb x F!Reader

Platonic: all Starks x Reader, Sansa x Reader

Summary: When the reader returns to winterfell after being attacked she finds herself having night terrors again and only one person is able to make them stop.

Word count: 3486

Warnings: references to an attack but not explicit details, mentions of nightmares/terrors, mentions of bullying

Masterlist Here

Part two linked at bottom

Every summer or so your family travelled to Winterfell for the children to mingle and the fathers to talk business. It had been this way as long as you remembered. Being a couple of years older than Sansa meant she ran about after you, loving to copy after you and listen to your stories. You were also a year younger than Robb whom you had a complicated relationship over the years. As very young children you played together often, playing with toy soldiers and making up make believe games.

Once Sansa started tottering after you when she was seven, you ten, and him eleven he finally seemed to realise you were a girl and pushed you into the mud when you tried to join in with Theon, Jon, and him. When he was fourteen and you thirteen, he began to just avoid you mostly though when he was sixteen, he started to steal sideways glances and saying sweet words. Pretty words that were met with harsh words in return.

Somewhat to his credit Robb did try and apologise to you last summer for his actions as a child but you just smiled and told him it no longer mattered. There was now a civilness between you both but little more.

However, this summer and last were different by far. In between summers you had been out on a horse ride with your friend and a stable boy at your grounds, but you were not alone. When you rode deeper into the woods, your friends lagging behind, you felt someone pull you from the horse. The attack left you bruised and badly injured, but you had managed to survive it and that’s what people always told you. You’re okay, you’re fine, it could be much worse.

The stable boy had been the one to help you as your friend tore off on her horse to find help which luckily came in time. If not for the stable boy flinging himself on the man and helping your claw at him, you probably would not have survived.

Your parents offered to let you stay home this summer, but you figured maybe it would be good for you to roam a safer place. Winterfell had brought you so much comfort as a child that you looked forward to return.

The Starks had heard of the attack and sent letters at the time but when you climbed out your carriage you were met with Sansa running into your arms. “I’m so glad you’re alright,”

Your hands flew to stroke her hair, placing a kiss to her head, assuring her you were fine. It was ironic in a sense. Ever since the attack you felt the need to reassure everyone around you but yourself. Each Stark in turn including Jon offered their deepest sympathies and sweet words.

All but Robb. He was the last in the line to greet you, knowing you were here for his sisters more so than him. “Lady (Y/N),” he said as he took your hand to press a kiss to its knuckles. You bowed your head with a polite smile. You felt Robb give your hand a squeeze before he released it, “You look as radiant as last time I saw you,”

Your heart fluttered at his words, a small smile curling into your lips, “Thank you my lord,” you said before continuing your duties. You weren’t sure if it was the normalcy of the comment, the compliment itself, or the fact that Robb didn’t feel the need to extend you pity or have you reassured him that made a warmth grow in you. You never realised how much you valued normalcy until he had said it.

The day was pleasant enough if not enjoyable. You ate lunch and dinner with the Starks, Sansa making sure to be beside you the whole time. You sat in with her and Arya’s lesson and watched Bran try teaching Rickon to hold his wooden sword. The only problem was everyone wanted to know what had happened.

Sansa had asked about the details, Arya seemed to get a kick out the idea of fighting a grown man. Catelyn kept constantly assuring you of your safety which while sweet wore on. Jon listed all the things he would’ve done to protect you. Even Ned had asked about what had happened, something you did your best to be vague about especially with the girls. Sansa because she was sweet, Arya because she seemed to be getting ideas. Not to mention your parents constantly checking in. it was exhausting.

Despite being mentally so tired you lay in your chambers unable to sleep that night. The next day you were mostly fine on the outside despite your groggy nature which you blamed on the excitement from the day before keeping you up. The next you managed to sleep but it was the nightmares that disturbed you.

You did your best not to remember the attack but at night you seemed to relive it. waking up shaking and panting, tears rolling down your cheeks as you tried to remind yourself you were so far from home but that didn’t seem to help. Perhaps it was talking about it that had brought these nightmares back. Or maybe fate was just cruel.

By your seventh day in Winterfell, you were exhausted. Of the six night you had slept four and of those four nightmares raged through them. Some woke you up for a few minutes while others kept you up for the rest of the night. Heavy lilac circles rung around your eyes which threatened to close in a moment’s notice.

“Perhaps some milk of the poppy would help?” Sansa suggested at breakfast after you finally confessed to your nightmares.

You shook your head at her words, “Last time that just made it worse. I still had the nightmares I just couldn’t wake up,” When the attack first happened nightmares happened almost daily for the first month, but it was different, “(Y/F/N) stayed in my chambers with me every night for two months until she was sure they had stopped,”

“Maybe I could stay with you,” Sansa offered, clutching onto your arm, “Lady could sleep there too and then she’d be able to protect you,”

You smiled at her but again shook your head, “Your sweet Sansa,” you told her, running a hand over her hair, “But I need to sleep on my own. I cannot have someone sleep with me every night,”

Sansa nodded as she turned back to her breakfast with a sigh, “I just wish I could help,”

While you loved her dearly Sansa’s version of helping was to tell practically her whole family who told yours who just questioned you more on the dreams. By lunch you had had enough and excused yourself to the only quiet place. The library.

There was a fireplace that you didn’t bother lighting and half the books seemed untouched. There were a few tables and chairs dotted around the room and two armchairs placed near the fireplace. You took up a spot in one of them, pulling a random book from a shelf. Your eyes threatened to close with every word you read, and you didn’t even notice that you had dropped the book as they finally fell closed.

You woke up to a crackling fire and fur nuzzling your nose. Sitting up from your slouched position, the cloak slipped down off your chest. Your hands traced the edge of the fur lined wool that someone had placed over you like a blanket. The book you had been reading was placed beside you, a bookmark in the page you were last reading, and someone had obviously taken the time to light the fire but not stay to enjoy it. no one else was in the library and you couldn’t notice any obvious signs of someone coming in.

the room was solely lit by the flames as you noticed the darkness out of the windows. Stretching your arms, you began to get out the chair, picking up the cloak when it fell. Its fur was ever so soft, and the wool was thick that you wondered how you had not overheated. The black leather detailing on his clasps and pockets were crisp and precise. This was not a cheap cloak, and someone had left it to keep you warm without even leaving a note.

You raised it to your face, the fur tickling your nose, and inhaled its scent. A warm feeling flooded your heart as the woodsy smell filled your nose. It smelled fresh and earthy while also having misty fragrance to it. the smell made your lips turn up as your hands stroked its fur.

As you walked back to your chambers you noticed the emptiness of the corridors on your way. It was clearly far later than your nap was supposed to be. When you entered your chambers, you saw a jug of wine and plate of bread and cheese on a table waiting for you. This was when you realised just how hungry you were as you devoured the food. You weren’t sure if the one who had left the cloak had sent it or whether your absence at dinner, which you were sure you had missed, had caused someone else to send it up.

After eating you laid in bed, the cloak sitting on a chair in your room, and tried to sleep. Despite the nap you were still tired, but your lids did not close as easily as last time. When you sat up you saw the cloak again. Without thinking you padded over to the chair, snatched up the cloak and returned to bed, laying on top of the covers and instead used the cloak as a blanket. It was warm and as toasty as the fire had been. The furs nuzzled into your face and coaxed you into your dream filled slumber.

The morning rays woke you for the first time in over a week. No nightmares plagued your sleep, and you woke up without screaming or tears. For once you finally felt well rested. The sleep had done you well and you enjoyed the morning, braiding your hair, putting on your favourite dress, before going on a walk of the grounds. All this before breakfast. And still in the cloak a stranger had left on you.

When you entered the hall for breakfast you were one of the last there, but you were in the best mood out of all of them. “Good morning sweet Sansa,” you hummed as you took your place beside her, taking the cloak off, and began to butter your toast.

“You’re happy,” Sansa said with a frown.

This made you laugh, mouth filled with toast, “Is that so wrong of me?” Sansa shrugged but kept her eyes on you, her eyes squinting, “If you must know I slept nearly sixteen hours, nightmare free might I add, and have never felt better,”

“Oh (Y/N) that’s wonderful!” She praised as she clutched your arm, “We were wondering what you were up to yesterday,”

“To be honest im surprised I never woke up to a search party,” You laughed, and Sansa rolled her eyes and removed her hands from your arms.

“As tempted as we were Robb told us you were fine,” she said and your eyebrows knitted in confusion, “What? He said he ran into you at the library reading then that you told him to tell us you would be taking dinner in your chambers so you could have an early night. Did something happen?”

“No, no its fine,” you said, shaking your head trying to think, “It must’ve slipped my mind. It was a very good sleep after all. Its left me dazed,” you said but you knew you had never spoken to her brother yesterday let alone tell him your dinner plans.

Your fingers trailed over the fur of the cloak that was sitting beside you as you realised whose scent had lulled you to sleep. Almost as if it were fate this was the moment Robb had decided to come in with Jon beside him. “Robb where’s your cloak? You’ll freeze to death,” Catelyn chastised her son who had snowflakes scattered along his shoulders. Robb glanced at you before telling his mother he was not cold, “You better not have lost that cloak Robb. I paid good money for that,”

“It’s in my chambers I just forgot to lift it and didn’t wanna go all the way back,” the lied effortless fell from his tongue but you felt his eyes on you moments after. Your hands instinctively clutched the fabric beside you.

As you, Robb, and Jon had been the last to arrive it was no shock that you were the last in the room. Sansa had waited for you initially, but you told her to hurry to her lessons, not wanting her to be late. While true it was also because you had been eating your toast ever so slow so you could hang back to speak to Robb.

When she finally agreed and left the room you waited a moment before crossing the room to where Robb and Jon sat. You held the cloak out to Robb who turned around to look at you. It was the first time you had noticed how soft his eyes were and how strong his jaw was from this angle. And how his hair curled, so soft and perfect looking, “Thank you lady (Y/N),” his words snapped you back from reality as he took the cloak from you. You felt the flush that crossed your cheeks but ignored it as you turned and walked away, feeling unable to even speak suddenly.

You couldn’t like Robb? Not Robb surely? Jon perhaps. Theon maybe. Not Robb? Your parents had suggested the match a hundred times and Catelyn herself even hinted. It would be too perfect to be true. But the way his eyes looked at you…

You did your best to ignore the feeling creeping into your stomach the rest of the day and decided to just try and enjoy the day. It was going well, and you even managed to enjoy dinner though the whole time you kept stealing glances at the eldest Stark who on occasion even caught your eye with a slight smirk. For whatever reason that stupid smirk made your skin tingle more.

Then finally it came time to sleep again. You were tired from the day which you had thoroughly enjoyed but you lay in bed for hours unable to sleep. Yet again. You felt like the gods were torturing you. You couldn’t handle another nightmare or another sleepless night. Swallowing your pride, you wrapped yourself in your own cloak and quickly walked the halls before finding yourself at Robb Starks chamber and knocking on the door.

Then the reality of the situation set in. how stupid you looked standing in front of a boy’s chamber you rarely spoke to ask for his cloak to help you sleep. Quickly you turned around and went to walk away when you heard the door creak open behind you. “(Y/N)?” Robb asked, his voice heavy with sleep that made the way he said your name even sweeter.

You turned around with a sheepish smile, “Hello,” you said, biting your lip, “I need a favour,”

Robb nodded before he ushered you into the room and closed the door behind him. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he led you over to a chair which he pulled out for you before sitting on the edge of his bed across from you, “Is everything alright?” his words grabbed your attention.

You played with the hem of your sleeve as you spoke, “I know this is gonna sound really dumb but I couldn’t sleep and I was wondering if maybe I could borrow your cloak?” you said, looking up to meet his now awake eyes, “Also thank you for today well yesterday now or well the day before in the library and that it was the first good sleep I had in a while and yeah and like thanks I guess,” your words flew out without you thinking, your skin burning hot.

Robb sat up slightly, his arms resting on his thighs to prop him up, “Why do you need my cloak?” he asked.

“It helped me sleep,” you confessed, your eyes falling to your hands that began to pick at your skin.

The room sat in silent for a few moments and finally you braved yourself to look up at Robb who must think you were a total creep. Instead, he was smiling softly, “That’s cute,” he said as he gazed into your eyes. A smile crept onto your own lips as you looked at him. Robbs hand went forward to hold yours, stopping your picking, “You shouldn’t do that though,”

“I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay,”

“I get nervous,”

“I know,” Robb said as his thumb began to rub over your hand, “Do you want to tell me about it? Or if you’d like we can just sit here,”

“I’d like that,” you confused as your hands squeezed his and he squeezed back. The comfortable silence washed over you both. “Thank you by the way,” you broke the silence moments later, “For the food and the cloak and that,”

“It’s okay,” Robb said as he took your hand to his mouth to kiss the back of it, “You looked so peaceful in the library. I couldn’t help but stare a little,” he said with a slight chuckle, “You were so beautiful but then you began to shiver,”

The way Robb looked at you felt so genuine, so tender. His thumb running over your hand, his eyes gazing into yours. “Should I fetch my cloak then?” Robb asked, pulling away from you and already you missed his touch but nodded.

Robb stood and crossed the room to fetch his cloak to bring back to you where you stood by the door. Robb walked closer to you but made sure to leave enough room for you to move out his way if you wanted. He brushed a stray hair strand that had fallen out of place behind your ear. His fingers softly trailed your jaw after before falling from your face.

Without thinking or warning you sprang forward, your arms flinging round his shoulders as you buried your face into his chest. His arms quickly wrapped around your frame and pulled you closer, the cloak falling from his hands. You breathed in his fresh woodsy smell that burned your nose with a sweetness.

You felt one of his hands holding your head, the hand almost the size of it. yet it made you feel safer. He began to stroke your hair, the other hand wrapped around your back to pull you closer. Tears welled in your eyes, “I was so scared that day,” you confessed.

“It’s okay,” Robb murmured, “It’s okay ive got you. You don’t have to worry anymore. You’re safe now,” he assured you as he stroked your hair.

Soft sobs left your lips and Robb placed kisses to the top on your head and held you as you cried. “Everyone expected me to talk about it and explain- “

“You never have to explain anything to me,” Robb said as he pulled back and took your face in his hands. His hands were rough but held your face so gently, “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Im here for you, okay?”

“Thank you,” your said as your voice croaked, “Do you think,” you started, your eyes flickering away from his for a moment, “Do you think I could stay here tonight?”

“Of course,” Robb said, placing a kiss to your forehead. “I can sleep on the floor, or the chair and you can take the bed. Or I can go sleep with Jon or- “

“You don’t have to,” you interrupted him, “I mean if you don’t mind. I’d like you to stay in the bed with me,”

Robb nodded as he pulled back out of the embrace, he had held you in, “Of course I can. Whatever you need,”

You took your cloak off and Robb helped you into his bed in your night clothes before joining you under the sheets. Your head rested on his shoulder and his arm snaked under you, pulling you gently to lay on his chest. He held you in his arm, his hand resting on your waist. Without thinking you took his spare hand into yours. Your nose nuzzled into his chest, his scent making your eyes flutter shut. “Thank you again,” you murmured as your eyes grew heavier.

“Anything for you love,” Robb placed another kiss at the top of your head, “Just get some rest. I’ve got you okay. you’re safe now,”

Part Two Here

Taglist: @clairacassidy

#robb stark #robb stark imagine #robb stark fluff #robb stark angst #game of thrones fluff #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones #got #got imagine #robb got #robb stark x reader #game of thrones angst

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thevilqueen · 2 months

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I think that Rook’s betrayal of Vil in Book 5 is particularly cruel and I think it truly layers their relationship into something complex and nuanced that I really like.

Rook and Vil bonded thanks to their shared love for theatre and cinema back when they had just met. We don’t have many details but we know that it culminated in Rook being so obsessed with Vil that he changed dorms to study beauty more closely. Rook is very passionate and he expresses his affection extravagantly. While he doesn’t do so exclusively with Vil, it is seemingly more intense with him.

Now Vil is a very popular person, he is used to being admired but there is no denying that Rook can hardly be rivalled by someone else at least as far as the game portrays it. So I think it’s safe to assume that Vil isn’t immune to it. After all, why wouldn’t he indulge in the idea of being someone’s number one? While it’s still far from fulfilling his longing for the spotlight, it must have felt nice being acknowledged in such a way. Rook and Vil have known each other for at least two years and in all this time despite Rook’s admiration and dedication to Neige he has never once mentioned it to Vil, fully aware that Vil and him worked together closely often.

This isn’t just a mere detail about Rook’s personal life either. Neige had a huge impact on his life. He is also known by Neige as a dedicated fan. Neige is seemingly very famous. In hordes of fans, for Rook to stand out to the point Neige would recognise him is no small feat. His obsession with Neige is time-consuming and serious. We don’t have an explanation as to why he hid the truth from Vil and we never will. As far as I’m concerned I believe Rook never had malicious intent hiding that fact. He’s known to be secretive and even Vil admits still being surprised by him.

Regardless, to find out so abruptly after overbloting and losing to Neige yet again couldn’t have been painless to Vil. Vil is someone who is known for having trust issues, keeping his walls high and repressing his feelings. So I find it terribly heartbreaking that the seemingly closest person to him who spent their time making him believe he was their ultimate obsession for two years reveals their true ultimate obsession all along was his long-term rival, not just him. That revelation wasn’t even initiated by Rook himself, meaning that if it had been up to him he would have kept hiding it.

To be clear, none of that diminishes their relationship as well as Rook’s importance to Vil. Rook visibly cares deeply for Vil and so does Vil for him. Vil also forgives him and handles it very maturely. Yet none of his feelings are truly addressed when this betrayal is so tightly linked to his deepest insecurity. Vil is never going to be Rook’s ultimate obsession as an artist. That’s Neige. It has been Neige for a long time. Furthermore, Vil’s flaw is his obsession with the desire to be number one. Rook directly feeds into Vil’s vice and there are several instances where he does which is why their relationship can be both good and bad for Vil.

At best Rook pushes him to new heights, challenges him to go further, to want more. At worst Rook reminds him of his shortcomings and encourages his bad habits. Rook is very much a double-edged sword to Vil which I think is very interesting.

#👑.the evil queen talks #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #twst #rook hunt

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thisisntmyrightera · 2 years

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Leave me alone, get your Stella! | Joseph Quinn x fem. Reader

Summary: You are new cast on Stranger Things and on Geekend Week you came to talk about your character and play some Dungeons and dragons but also to show everyone how you and your boyfriend have an excellent relationship being both some clowns.

Warning: none 🤍

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It was Geekend week on Netflix and you as part of the new casting where invited to a little interview and also the Dungeons and Dragons segment as your character was a member of The Hellfire Club and also Eddie’s best friend on screen who later became a main character who joined the gang to fight against Vecna you have a lot of fans and also so many of them ship your and Joe character as a couple. The thing that many of them didn’t know was that you and Joseph started dating since a year ago a little after the shooting of season 4 ended and you finally have time to know each other better and found a way to have a relationship against the distance while you work and live on Los Angeles and Joseph most of the time spent his life on London.

You where really happy finally having more recognition for your work, wearing a black velvet dress with buttons on the front part and your long hair lightly waved on the ends make your face look prettiest and sweet than ever, Joe really have a hard time trying to make himself stand away from you, not because he doesn’t want to be around you, but he knows that he’s going to be a totally mess if he hugged you or kiss you cause he really miss you a lot and nobody would be capable of separate him from you.

When it was time of the Hellfire Table you sit between Priah and Finn just for fun and also because the producers decided that, the game started and you where having difficulties with the game as you weren’t so fluent in this role and constantly Priah help you understand.

- So your highness Princess Sorceress of the dark woods, you’re going to play this time and have the decision to end with the undead with one of your spells but also you have the option to use a weapon, please take the 20-sided dice and make your luck speak - Dave talk euphorically while you throw the red dice on the table making everything shouting loud

- I have a 20! It’s enough? - You know this was just a game but also your heart feel so full of happiness to have the highest score between the players

-More than enough, so princess you have now a silver sword and you can put a spell on it so the power of this weapon is stronger or you can give this weapon to one of your friends who is unarmed and they can join and fight with you

-Uhmm i think i would give this weapon to Chad - You smile shy looking at Finn - he needs to fight and help us

- Oh your highness! Thank you so much - everyone around laugh as Finn make a little reverence and take your hand giving a fake kiss on it

-So Joe, Stella is now save but she’s going crazy, screaming and kicking because she’s traumatized- Dave make one of his best performances imitating how Stella react

-Hey hey Stella, calm down baby, baby baby baby! - Joseph move his hands trying to “calm her” as his arms wrapped around Dave - im here darling!

Everyone around laughing even you join the crowd cause honestly seeing your boyfriend comforting a grown man acting like a girl was funny as hell but in your girlfriend heart more in the deepest you feel a little ache seeing how your beloved interact with someone who is not your character. Priah look at you knowing that Joseph and you have a little game where you both act jealous of dumb situations and people who clearly don’t have any chance to break your relationship, like Joe Keery and Gaten who act very touchy with Joseph or Maya who many times tell Joseph that he needs to be careful with you or she would take out her inner Robin and steal his girlfriend, so now was a perfect moment to act like that.

The game keeps on and after Gaten, Priah and Finn you turn came again, you throw the dice again and everyone celebrate one more time when you have a 20 score again.

-Well seems like this princess is so lucky! - Dave point at you make you smile a little shy - well Princess now is your turn to save on of your friends, there’s Stella and Joe and while they’re hugging som of the creatures come around and try to catch them but you’re there, Chad finally give you back your Silver sword and you have the control of everything now, what you want to do?

- I want to stab them - You said with a light smile looking at the screen of your ipad

- Wich of them? - Priah quietly said make you laugh knowing that you referred to Joe and Stella

- You know…whoever is on my way - You laugh with the rest as you make your movements saving the characters and killing the creatures as Finn laugh getting now the reference

-Oh she’s jealous of Stella! - he laugh giving you a light hug as Gaten look at Joseph laughing trying to create some friction

The game keeps on again and after a couple of minutes playing and making some movements you have your nerves really jealous boiling inside you, as ridiculous this can sound, you feel pushed back for Joseph and he honestly doesn’t help being the joker he is.

- So Joe, now you’re in the Upside down and Stella is there trapped and between the spiked claws of Vecna who look at you laughing knowing your suffering- Dave hand move on the air making the scene

-If you touch her Vecna…i swear to god… - Joseph looked so frustrated facing a invisible enemy while everyone turn their heads to you expecting your reaction but you didn’t say anything you just look at Joe waiting to him look at you too and when you both eyes meet you raise and eyebrow let him know that he was on troubles for flirt with that imaginary character - oh no, i am more afraid of that look than Vecna himself

-Sadly we can finish Vecna on this board but you’re going to take that angry princess to your house and we can’t help you - Dave laugh finally falling in your lovers game

-it’s okay, it’s okay i can deal with my woman! - Joe laugh making his movements on the ipad and being honest you can’t keep forcing a blank face and smile proudly for your tiny fury reactions.

- So Joe now Stella is on Vecna hands but our beautiful and amazing Princess Sorceress from the dark woods is being attacked by Vecna mind and she’s suffering on the floor, her mind is being corrupted and you have on your hands the decision to save just one of them

Joe look at the ipad and then at you deeply breathing and covering his face frustrated as Gaten laugh rubbing his back

- You can do it bro! Just remember that if you leave Stella then kill Vecna would be more difficult…and if you leave our Princess

- I would be a dead man tomorrow i know that! - Joe show his watery eyes making everything laugh even you feel a little victorious seeing how he have a mental breakdown- babe im sorry you know how much i love you but i need to save the game - Joe look at you almost asking for forgiveness - i would save Stella!

Everyone around make a gasp sound as you look at Joe placing your hand of your chest dramatically trying not to laugh making Joseph go to your side and hug you tight as you lightly push him

- Leave me alone, get your Stella back - Even the staff can’t control their laugh as you and Joseph make a board game turn into a lovers war

30 minutes later the game ended having Priah and her Lady applejack as the one who ends with Vecna, as everyone said goodbye to the show and the cameras turn off you quickly walk to the staff so they can remove the mic and all the stuff you need to the show as soon as you being free you see a running Joseph coming to you with his open arms hugging you tight making all the girls of the staff make a laugh “Owww”

- Babe I’m sorry i let you die there i really sorry my love - Joseph swayed with you between his arms as you laugh and hug him

-i feel really offended, honestly i feel like betrayed

-No im sorry i really want to make this funny - he laugh kissing your temple

Later that night your and Joseph name where everywhere around twitter and instagram tagging you both in photo editions, fan art, and so many other funny clips, even many of the fans send messages about being worried that you and Joseph really fight or make out of context clips when they show you “sad” because Joseph make you feel uncomfortable.

After read and see all the online content you ask for Joseph permission for post a photo of you both since you decided have a private relationship out of the social media but he happily agreed as you both take a selfie where you snuggle comfortably on his side and he surrounded you with his arms while you both where sitting on a bench of the balcony and post it on your Twitter with a cute description

“A princess can’t be without his master 🖤 “

#eddie munson #joe quinn #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #joseph quinn imagine #stranger things 4 #netflix #eddie munson imagine #joe quinn imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson edit #eddie munson x fem!reader

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onewingedsparrow · 5 months

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WIP Game

Tagged by @mistresslrigtar, and @zeldaelmo, thank you both!! <3 This is the WIP game where I have to post my wip titles and you can ask after them. Most of these titles are final, but a few of them are still being workshopped :) I did a Read More because this was getting long, as usual :P I'm also gonna tag @prismicnexus @afaroffsong @silvercaptain24 @sunburned-cyborg and @skyyknights but no pressure! And if you've been tagged already that's all right, you can ignore this. ❄️ Over the Edge (Original Work) This is the tale of an illustrious creature residing in a high tower—and the secret of the broken, bloodied bones scattered about the dungeon floor. 🦋 I'm Coming After You (Robots in Disguise 2015) Why is there a sparkling on the prison ship Alchemor? How will Lieutenant Bumblebee fare when said sparkling interferes with his work in capturing dangerous Decepticons at large? Where is Steeljaw's new base, and what in the Allspark is he plotting now? Bumblebee would also like to know.... ⚔️ When Push Comes to Shove (Hyrule Warriors) Link and Zelda return to the Temple of the Sacred Sword to seal away the darkness, and Link is forced to face his insecurities, whether he's ready for it or not. 🐝 To Bee a Leader (Robots in Disguise 2015) Bumblebee knows that Optimus Prime chose him to be leader of the Autobot team on Earth…but he's tired and he misses his dad.

🐺 Enduring the Twilight (Twilight Princess) As regrets from his past failures haunt him, Link finds an unexpected counselor—and ally—in a mysterious golden wolf who regularly crosses his path. 🍃 Deku Tree Link AU (OoT Canon Divergent) When the future Hero of Time was adopted by the Great Deku Tree, he inherited more than a home and a family among the Kokiri—he also received the Great Deku Tree's abilities, as well as the mantle of Guardian of the Forest. 🎭 When the Dust Settles (Miraculous Ladybug Apocalypse!AU) Paris has fallen. Two survivors roam the wreckage, spared only by the Miraculous they themselves carry. 🪽 Under My Wings (Transformers: Prime) Arcee never wished to join Team Prime. Optimus never planned to raise a sparkling during the war. Bumblebee never meant to change the course of history. The road ahead of them is not at all what they expected.... 🧣 All I Am (Skyward-Sword-and-Hyrule-Historia-manga-inspired) The captain of the Knights of Hylia has been tasked with holding back the demon king’s forces. Aware that he is out of his league, Link struggles with coming to terms with the gravity of this command. Fortunately, Hylia is watching out for him. 🌙 Moonquake WIP (Original Work) Kaya is tired of the power going out. Tarka Sevan seeks a light from beyond. ❤️‍🔥 Tripled Threats (Transformers Crossover) Three road-raging warriors and one cheerful ray of sunshine share what is perhaps the strangest plot twist of their lives. 🥠 Sandwiched (Age of Extinction) Bitter from the battle of Chicago, Optimus Prime holds strong opinions about humanity's profane treatment of his people. Trapped by convention with a group of humans, in addition to another equally unwanted ally, the Autobot leader turned war criminal is forced to consider the deepest truths of life...even that which he has been running from for ages untold. 🏴‍☠️ Overboard one (Puss in Boots: The Last Wish) On the voyage to Far, Far Away, Kitty falls into the sea. 😇 [The smile one] (Rise of the Beasts) Mirage points out something that Bumblebee can never forget. 🧵 [It's Official] (Puss in Boots: The Last Wish) Puss and Kitty don't appreciate how stinky Perrito's sock has become over their long voyage, and plot to expand his wardrobe. 🌌 [Fire Emblem Megafic] (Three Houses / Three Hopes / more) Two new professors arrive at the Officer's Academy—and the fate of the World is forever changed. A single crack in a castle of glass is enough to shatter the structure of time...now imagine what one could do with two.... ...this isn't all of my WIP's, of course. :D But, these are the ones I'm either in-the-zone-working-on right now, or I'm gearing up to get back into, so ask away! ✨

#long post #ask away #wip title game

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charmedcleric · 2 months

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Get to know your tav!

I was tagged by the lovely @auspex-author Thank you so much for the tag!

Her name is Athena and she is my war domain cleric of eilistraee. Her character sheet is here and this post is very long so I’ll put most of it under the cut! Once I start talking about my tavs I literally can’t stop, also I talk about her relationship with rolan a little bit so that’s why he’s tagged <3

What is your tav’s….

favorite weapon?

- Athena’s favourite weapon is a longsword you find in act 1 called the Phalar Aluve

style of combat?

- She is usually in the frontline swinging her singing sword while casting spirit guardians. She also loves ambushing, as it’s a great way to get advantage over others

most prized possession?

- Athena has two lockets that she wears 24/7. One locket was a gift to her from her mother. The other locket belonged to her sister. Athena’s mother had a tradition to get each of her children a matching locket with a photo of the family in it to remind them that no matter what happens they are with them all the time. As Athena’s parents and sister had passed away she had both the lockets on her at all times to feel close to her family

deepest desire?

- To have a family of her own. She was orphaned at the age of 14 and became her little sisters full time carer. 4 years later her sister got very ill, so Athena became a cleric to help look after and heal her.

Her healing magic helped her sister stay alive for 5 years until her sister Rose succumbed to her illness and passed away. Athena felt empty as she now had no family left and she felt as if she had failed as a cleric. She would love nothing more than to have a family to call her own, yet it’s one of the things she fears most as she doesn’t want to let anyone else down

guilty pleasure?

- Athena’s guilty pleasure is gossiping, she knows she shouldn’t but she loves listening in on others business. Her, astarion and shadowheart basically have a gossiping club at this point where they tell each other all the juicy stuff

best-kept secret?

- That she is a sword dancer of eilistraee. A sword dancer is a specialized priestess (cleric) of Eilistraee. Athena had been a follower of eilistraee since she was little but once her sister died leaving her to be the last in her family, she felt as if the only thing she had left was her religion. She decided that she wanted to become a sword dancer. As she already lived on the surface becoming a sword dancer was slightly easier as to become one you must spend at least a month on the surface dancing each moonlit night for eilistraee and you had to witness dawn at least once.

She also went and offered her services at the Promenade of the Dark Maiden, she wasn’t there for long before she was taken by the nautiloid.

greatest strength?

- Her dedication, when she puts her mind to something or she wants something she will get it

fatal flaw?

- She blames herself a bit to much and she shuts down while doing it. This is seen when rolan yelled at her in the shadow lands and even after saving the tieflings from moonrise she still wasn’t herself and became very quiet for some time although she didn’t let that stop her from her task of infiltrating moonrise towers

favorite smell?

- She loves the smell of freshly baked bread, it reminds her of home when her mother would bake bread for the family in the mornings

*bit of post game lore of Athena x rolan hehe* when Rolan found this out he always made sure that there was bread being freshly baked in the kitchen each morning, nothing made him happier than seeing the smile on Athena’s face each and every morning. Of course when Athena would ask him if he was doing it for her and if he would ask them to also make some of her other fav bakery goods, he would of course deny what she said and tell her to not be greedy lmao

favorite spell or cantrip?

- She loves AOE spells such as glyph of warding and flame strike

pet peeve?

- She hates lying, she can usually see through people when it comes to lying and she makes sure that they know she isn’t happy especially if it’s someone she considers a friend or someone she has more intimate feelings for

bad habit?

- When she is nervous or stewing over something she plays with her hair and pulls out strands of her hair. The only companion that called her out on it was karlach, but as this was a habit Athena wasn’t actually aware she was doing she dismissed karlach’s worry

She was then called out by rolan which made her kinda pull back, shocked he would notice something like that (she thought he hated her) she was now well aware she was doing it and actively tries to avoid doing it. She also went and apologized to karlach for dismissing her worry

hidden talent?

- She is really good at lock picking , she likes to joke that she could give astarion a run for his money which he doesn’t agree with of course. She never lets him forget about when he was struggling to open a chest and after like 100 goes Athena had a go and immediately lock-picked it lmao (based on when astarion failed lock-picking like 20 times and then when i got Athena to have a go she got a NAT 20 lol)

leisure activity?

- Painting/drawing and singing. Before she became a cleric she would paint and sell her artwork on the city streets of waterdeep that’s how she made money to keep her and her sister alive. Now whenever she gets a free chance she will sit down and draw/paint landscapes until the sun goes down. And while she is painting she will be singing or humming along to one of her favourite songs

favorite drink?

- She loves a plain cup of coffee, she has a lot on her mind and she feels coffee helps her to relax, although some people might beg to differ

comfort food?

- Her comfort food is her mums homemade soup, whenever she has the time and ingredients she will make it as it reminds her of home and brings her immense comfort

favorite person(s)?

- Athena has multiple favourite people and all for different reasons. Her most favourite person though would have to be rolan. Even though they had a rocky relationship when they first met, Athena was nothing but nice to rolan, she admired the love he had for his family (a value she thinks is very important). They ended up getting together after the fall of the absolute.

After the fall of the brain, Athena went to rolan to catch up and to tell him that she was going back to waterdeep and well Rolan kinda lost it and confessed his feelings for her right then and there.

-Jaheira is another one of her favourite people. Athena views jaheria as a mother figure and was on the verge of tears when Jaheira first started calling her cub. Anyone around could see that Jaheira was very important to Athena and that she was the mother figure Athena wished she still had in her life

*more Athena x Rolan lore cause I’m obsessed with them lol* when Rolan was thinking of asking Athena to marry him, he went and asked Jaheira for her blessing as he knew the importance of their relationship

favored display of affection (platonic and/or romantic)?

- platonic: she loves hugs, especially giving them,

-romantic: hugs, hand holding and kisses on the cheek

fondest childhood memory?

- Playing at the local park with her family just before her parents passed away, it was one of the last times as a family and the last time she truly felt carefree and happy

free-response! Is there anything else about your Tav you'd like to share?

- She LOVES reading, once she opens a book it’s all over, you’ve lost her lol you won’t hear from her until she’s finished said book (that’s mainly cause she actually struggles to read and takes forever to finish) it’s one thing that she missed most while traveling to baldur’s gate as she had no time to just sit down and read for hours

Tagging: @esolean @lanabenikosdoormat @commander-krios @orangekittyenergy and anyone else who’d like to do it! I love reading about people’s tavs

#Athena and Rolan have been on my mind 24/7 I think they should start paying rent #I love my little traumatized cleric <3 #bg3 tav #tav bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #rolan x tav #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #tav: athena #oc: athena #half-drow #cleric

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the-heartlines · 7 months

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who is the lamb? who is the knife?

| rhaegon & daemyra | e. 1/? [4K] | dd:dne

“It was a game we grew up playing, your father and I—to pierce the maiden, spoiling and spilling her first blood on the victor’s sword. With or without the maiden’s consent.”

chapter 1: blessed with beauty and rage

Everything turned to ash in her mouth, since she found out the truth of what it meant to be a Targaryen; a she-dragon, with fire roaring through her veins. She hadn’t spoken to her uncle for nearly a fortnight, too angry and bewildered that he hadn’t told her the entirety of what blossoming into womanhood meant for her, a dragon princess.

Of how her sixteenth name day, would be the day the little freedom she was given, would be snatched wholly from her. That her body would no longer belong to her, but be given up to the victor who was worthy enough to spill the blood of others, upon their sword, and win her as their spoils.

“It was a game we grew up playing, your father and I—to pierce the maiden, spoiling and spilling her first blood on the victor’s sword. With or without the maiden’s consent.” Her uncle had so crudely voiced, suggestively smirking at the word sword. He had been drunk, the wine loosening his tongue and the lewd words spilling out of him like an impulsive confession; the truth. Her uncle’s eyes also flashed with something unknown to her, dark violet and glinting mysteriously—a once tempered fire, now ablaze with how she’d once seen him look at whores with, but never her.

Never her, his naive niece.

And that’s when Rhaenyra slapped him, hard, across the scar on his cheek—the one she used to caress lovingly, leaving him to his empty cups and loneliness as his companion.

(That’s when Daemon Targaryen, the rogue prince, felt the dragon princess’ vengeful tears and teeth gnashing and gnawing at his insides for the first time, tearing him to shreds.)

Because this was no innocent child’s game, it was her future. The outcome of the ritual—the hunt for her—would dictate which man’s poison would taint her Targaryen womb.

Her uncle was her favorite person in the world, up until that fateful moment. He never lied to her, never let her see that side of him, full of lust and vulgarity. He was always pure and truthful with her. She could learn to accept this new licentious version of her uncle, but Rhaenyra couldn’t understand why he had hid this painstakingly raw secret from her, of all things.

It made her blood boil, seethe with rage that the person she most revered—who was more of a father to her than her own—could keep this from the niece he claimed to love more than himself, like his own daughter.

Her father never told her of her fate, being his first-born daughter. He was too sickly, with his mind half-gone and his body half-decayed. The only thing comforting to him, that could fill the hole left in his heart-ever since her mother’s death over five years ago, was milk of the poppy. The only time he recognized her was when he called her by her mother’s name, and all it did was make her somber and heart broken. Rhaenyra had ceased visiting him sometime ago, letting him wither away, like flowers she’d placed near his sickbed. The only evidence of her existence to him.

And then there was him, her half-brother, the first born son, eldest, and heir. She had heard stories about him, horrifying tales of how he tore his way from the deepest depths of the seven hells, to tear his way out of his mother, her father’s first wife and queen. She heard stories of how he was brash and a brute—a beast.

Alas, Rhaenyra knew those were all lies because he was the most playful and patient with her. He was always attentive and affectionate towards her, as all brothers should be; playing the role of the brave dragon knight, saving the helpless maiden princess, desperate to be gallantly rescued from a beast.

He would sweep her up in his arms afterwards and laugh and hold onto her close; almost too tight at times. Especially when their uncle would make an unexpected appearance, interrupting their games.

Aegon’s smile would fade the moment their uncle called her ‘little niece’. His eyes glittering with flecks of fire the moment her fingertips touched Daemon’s and plucked her from her brother’s arms. He never objected or said anything, when she obeyed like a dutiful princess, leaving with their uncle for her daily lessons. But over the years, she saw the fire blaze even brighter, his jaw clenching harder; the hold of his grasp on her getting tighter and tighter, like he would permanently lose her.

Rhaenyra can still fill the ghost of his fingertips digging small bruises into the flesh of her forearm from a fortnight ago. When the last lessons with her uncle, that she looked forward to every afternoon, had turned her stomach sour. She was in shock as her uncle told her the deepest darkest secret, his words wounding her with every drunken truth.

She had run from room to her elder brother’s chambers; the dormant dragoness in her waking—weeping and wrathful.

“Why, why, why?!” She had seethed into his chest, tears soaking his clothing, as he held her and stroked over the skin of her neck, softly. He had held her gently and carefully, like she would break. Aegon just let her cry until there were no more tears left to shed; until exhaustion had overwhelmed her. “Everything will be okay, Rhaenyra…you’ll see, sweet sister.” And with a lingering kiss to her feverish forehead, slight touch to her cheek, he left her to sleep off the mind numbing nightmares she just learned of.

And what hurt most of all is she had believed him. But he had lied to her just the same as their uncle, but in a more sinister way.

They had kept her in Aegon’s bedchambers, no longer allowed to leave. It was for her protection, her handmaid's had whispered to her in between bathing her and bringing her food. Anytime she questioned the maids or guards about demanding to know why, they held their tongues; terrified that they would lose them if they confessed too much.

But she knew the truth.

They were afraid of her—her uncle and brother. Afraid she’d run away on dragon back, escaping her fate with Syrax beneath her, flying towards her freedom.

The two men, most important to her, who despised each other, conspired together to keep her hidden away like some precious prize.

The pretty maiden princess, helpless, with no gallant knight or prince to save her. Because her gallant dragon knight and dragon prince—who were beasts after all—were the ones to keep her locked up.

And then the final day before her sixteenth name day, they’d brought her a gift from her uncle and brother. It was specifically made for the first ritualistic hunt, forged in Old Valyria with dragon fire and a gifted smith’s skill. It was a device made of Valyrian steel, meant to protect her womanhood from wandering hands, until the feast was over, and the hunt began.

Rhaenyra had bitten her cheek, drawing blood when the Maester had fastened the metal around her waist. But when she felt the cool kiss of the steel pressed against her naked mound, she gasped from the sudden contact—nothing besides her hand and small clothes ever being this close to that part of her.

He had taken a key and locked her into it, smiling. “I will tell Prince Daemon and Prince Aegon what an obedient young lady you've been, princess. They will be most grateful to hear it.”

She just glared at him, wanting to strike out and scratch him, sending her dear princesanother kind of message. But when she shifted her legs, the burden between her thighs stroked against her cunt, causing her to bite back a moan this time. So Rhaenyra nodded and forced a smile, feeling slick and sticky against the steel, unable to do anything, caged and powerless once more.

When morning came, she had barely slept, dreading seeing all of them. The suitors that would stare at her hungrily, inspect her like some rare animal. Before they became animals themselves, chasing her through the woods, tearing at each other’s throats to have their taste of her—to hunt her and skin her like some sacred and scared deer.

All Rhaenyra could see was blood and dirt covering the beautiful dress that presently adorned her body. The lustrous moon-hued fabric contouring to her curves, a hint of soft breasts peeking out from the top of the dress. Breasts that had been peaked all night, her nipples hardened like little red rubies from the pressure between her thighs that she received no relief from.

Her hair was brushed and braided to perfection. Her violet eyes were lined in dark kohl, her cheeks and lips flushed red-rose from warmth that flooded her and the constant gnawing on her lips.

Rhaenyra had barely recognized herself as she gazed into the mirror; a woman grown and flowered—blossomed to perfection.

The last thing her handmaidens did for her was anoint her in the fragrant oils of sandalwood and jasmine.

Her uncle and brother’s favorite scents.

The door between her and the throne room was the last barrier Rhaenyra had to overcome. She could hear laughter and loud muffled conversations. She clenched her fist and steadied her heartbeat, inhaling and exhaling in anticipation.

When they had announced her entrance, she walked through The Great Hall with her head held high, with all the grace and grandeur a princess might have. But her eyes ignored the tables of men seated below the throne; searching for the only two men she’d ever cared enough to constantly look up to in awe.

They were seated in the middle at a table, dressed in almost matching black and red with the dragon accents emblazoned with scarlet red rubies. Red rubies that mirrored the necklace wrapped tight around her throat and dainty jewels fixed into her silver braids—bleeding stars scintillating under candlelight.

Fire and blood.

Her uncle’s eyes were the first she saw, dark circles outlining them. His long hair was adorned in war braids to match hers, but he just gaped at her, the dull violets igniting, clinging desperately to her lilac eyes, afraid of losing her again. She dropped her gaze from his defiantly, her belly fluttering, her pulse beating against the heavy steel between her thighs once more. His sword hand reached to rest on Dark Sister’s hilt, but it was just the ghost of it. There were no weapons allowed until the actual hunt—so he flexed his hand and clenched it into a fist at his side instead. Good, she thought, let him get a little taste of what it means to be powerless.

“Welcome, princess,” a warm voice interrupted, her eyes immediately finding his pretty pale purples. Eyes that were shining with liveliness and mirth, bright like his smile. A vast difference from her uncle’s. “Welcome to your glorious name day feast, dear sister. You are no longer a child, but a woman, grown and flowered.” The words sent a shiver down her spine. His silver hair was half up, two braids joining to one, haloing him like a golden sun. It made her breath catch in her throat, her veins alight with righteous rage at how resplendent he looked.

“Yes, welcome, niece.” She heard a hoarse voice echo softly, strained.

They both bowed towards her, a truce offered up with their heads downcast in respect regarding her. Rhaenyra paused for a moment, wanting to spring forward and tear out their braids, for they were not worthy of them. Instead, she stood up even straighter, curtsying slightly towards them, refusing to bend her head an inch downwards.

She now took her seat, between the two of them, more than an arms length away from her.

Because everyone could only look at her, not touch her, nor taint her until one of them hunted and claimed her.

One she hoped was neither of them, to spite and spur her uncle and brother’s dominance over her.

A servant filled her cup full of blood-cherry wine, while the Great Hall was silent, waiting for her. She raised the cup to her lips and took a drink, draining every last bit, some of the crimson spilling from the side, onto her fingers.

She found her uncle’s eyes staring at her wine stained lips. “Rhaenyra…I think you should eat–” she slowly stuck her fingers into her mouth, sucking on them rudely, licking the sweet liquid from the tips. “Oh, this wine is divine,” she held up her cup, “I would have another, if it pleases you, brother?” She turned towards Aegon—the future heir—her saccharine smile and words were dripping with poisoned courtesy, ignoring her uncle and the raw ache stirring low in her stomach.

Daemon grasped his cup and choked down the wine like a man dying of thirst. She heard him cough, demanding his cup be refilled, angrily. She smiled, pleased she was still able to get under his skin; an insect crawling and burrowing beneath his resolve.

“What would please me, sweet Rhaenyra, is if you would heed our uncle’s words and fill your belly with something other than wine.” Her smile faded quick as a flame dying out. Since when has it been our uncle? She had truly underestimated their combined power over her. It made her want to get up and run…but there would be enough time for that today. “You need to eat plenty, to keep up your strength and resilience for your name day hunt, dear sis.” Aegon’s chuckle joined the blood pounding in her ears, as he sipped his wine. She wanted to reach over and slap him—this stranger—making him spill red all over his regal attire, ruining that stupid smirk now gracing his face.

But she cast her eyes downward to her empty plate, feeling hollow, as Daemon commanded that her cup be filled with only water for the rest of the feast.

Commanded. Was this what her life would be? Condemned to a life of obedience? Constant rules and being told what to do?

The food placed in front of her was decadent, filling her nostrils with its mouth watering scent, but she chose to eat some bread, cheese, and pomegranate seeds—ignoring the lemon cake, her favorite.

Kohl lined lilacs scanned the room taking in the suitors who would chase her, injuring or killing each other, to capture and have her.

Her stomach was a pit of tangled snakes, coiling within her like cords of dread; hissing angrily and ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

House Lannister. House Greyjoy. House Dorne.

All of the men were laughing, drinking, and feasting together. Joyful and jovial. A rush of panic spiked through her and she swallowed, suddenly feeling parched, lightheaded from the wine. She closed her eyes and gulped down the water, sensing a vast presence bowed in front of her.

“Princess Rhaenyra,” a rich voice, laced with warmth, greeted her.

“Ser Harwin?” She gasped and gawked at him, barely recognizing him, with his long dark curly hair and broad shoulders no longer concealed by gold cloak’s armor. He had grown bigger, stronger since the last time she’d seen him. A throb pulsated low in her belly when he smiled at her, making her cunt clench. “Will you be joining the hunt?” A small part of her hoped he was, for he was always kind towards her. He would be gentle with her, she knew deep down inside. Her stomach fluttered with the possibility.

Next to her, she heard her uncle snort and roll his eyes, as his wine was refilled once more. “Only those worthy of a Targaryen womb are permitted to hunt, sweet niece.” His eyes were narrowed threateningly at Harwin, as he took a long sip of his wine.

Rhaenyra saw Harwin visibly stiffen and nostrils flare, breathing out deeply. “It’s true what your uncle says, princess…” He gave her a sad smile. “I would have been honored to join the hunt for your hand…for you, alone, are worthy enough.”

Rhaenyra’s breath caught in her throat, the sincerity in his voice striking a chord in her heart, feeling respected for the first time in a long time.

It made fresh dewy nectar gather between her already sticky thighs. She squirmed in her seat, her eyes fluttering slightly.

“Enough, Strong!” Daemon rose from the table, his voice venomous, knocking over the cup of wine, the scarlet spilling onto the floor, pooling like blood.

A speckle of red stained Rhaenyra’s snow white dress. Why must he ruin everything? A river of rage scorched through her veins, finally roaring to life.

“Mayhaps, dear uncle, you should heed your own words and eat something to soak up the wine. You wouldn’t want to drunkenly stumble and hurt yourself…before my hunt even begins, now would you?” Rhaenyra’s fire blazed, burning hot on her cheeks, matching her uncle’s reddened hue, starting to creep down his neck.

Harwin smirked at her words, clearing his throat. “I apologize if I spoke too boldly about the princess, Prince Daemon. I only speak the truth. I think every man in this hall can attest to her being the loveliest sight they’ve ever laid their eyes upon. The princess is a woman worthy of respect and love. Any man here with two eyes can see that.” In that moment, Rhaenyra felt the eyes of every man entranced on her—undressing her, shedding and shearing her till she was naked and vulnerable as a lamb.

Harwin’s eyes drank her in, the same look mirrored and exhibited just like her uncle’s glittering gaze.

And in her brother’s gaze—who she had forgotten.

He made his way over next to Harwin, standing in front of her. Heated and hungrily staring at her; eyes searching and starving for her, wanting to swallow and gobble her up whole.

It made her spine shiver, now aware of the raw power she held within herself. And the ultimate weapon between her thighs, wet and throbbing beneath the steel.

Maybe, after all, she could control them, bend them to her will with the sheer possibility of piercing her with their swords.

“Indeed, Ser Harwin, she is a lovely creature.” Her brother’s hand grabbed hold of his muscled bicep and squeezed hard enough to bruise. “A Targaryen princess, not just worthy of any,” Aegon’s hand gestures wildly, giving Harwin a playful punch to his shoulder, “…strong man.” He smirked as Harwin’s eyes lowered, glaring down at Aegon. “But a man with enough fire in their blood to match hers.” She glanced down and saw Harwin’s giant paw clenched tight in a fist and it made her heart leap.

Rhaenyra held them like clay in the palm of her hand—clay she would mold and manipulate furtively.

“Dear brother, perhaps Ser Strong should be permitted to participate in the hunt.” Both of their eyes widened at her clandestine words. “It could be another one of my lovely name day gifts.” Aegon’s eyes drifted downward, glittering with wantonness, desiring to feast his eyes on her lower half, hidden by the grand table. She shifted and took a deep breath, continuing her charade. “The more men who join the hunt for my maidenhead, the merrier.” She turned to her uncle who was breathing heavily, eyes piercing her very soul, his nostrils flared with more than anger—arousal.

“Don’t you agree, uncle Daemon?” She glanced down and saw a very prominent bulge outlined against his breeches, straining and tense—like he had been the entire feast. She wet her lips despite herself, feeling a thrill of adrenaline ripple through her. “The prospect does so invigorate and excite me.” She bit her lip, looked up through her lashes at Aegon, who let out the long breath he was holding and gave her a small reluctant smile.

“Of course, Rhaenyra.” He said forcefully, “Ser Harwin shall be allowed to join the hunt.” A brazen smile lit up on her face, hearing his words.

“Thank you, Aegon. You are so generous, dear brother.” Daemon rose to object, but Aegon continued, silencing him. “But.” His voice was husky, full of amusement. “If Ser Harwin Strong were to catch you first, sister.” The tone was dangerous, dripping with delicious decadence. “It will only be to save you for me. Your future King.”

Rhaenyra’s heart sank, belly tightening with trepidation, as Aegon’s eyes darkened with desire, swallowed by night. “How does that sound, ser break bones? You can join the hunt to help catch the pretty prey, but not join in the ritual of despoiling the maiden princess? You can preserve my prize,” Harwin’s quiet rage radiated off of him ruthlessly, as he resisted breaking bones, dutifully clasping his hands behind his back. No doubt wanting to strangle her brother for twisting her words to taunt him. “Preserve my dragon princess for your future King, hmm?”

“I– Yes, your grace.” Harwin replied curtly, glancing at her sadly for a fleeting moment, “I should dress then, prepare myself for the hunt. To preserve and protect the princess,” he glowered at Daemon before bowing slightly towards Aegon and her.

“Ahh! A wonderful idea! I do believe it’s almost time for everyone to prepare for the main event!” Aegon clapped his hands together. “You are dismissed, Ser Strong.”

Harwin walked away, distraught and defeated, the first to leave the banquet.

Aegon announced to everyone in the Great Hall that the feast was over, as roars of triumph rang through the hall, making Rhaenyra’s head spin.

Once the keep had cleared, she felt sick with fear and worry once again, as Aegon winked at her, running his tongue along his teeth, grinning madly at Rhaenyra, who tried not to wince or weep. He bent his body over the table and whispered. “Gods, little sister, you truly are something unearthly. A lovely creature meant to torment every man’s waking dreams…” Aegon reached out, his fingertip touching one of the curls that escaped her braids, “I’ve dreamt about this day ever since you wrapped your little hand around mine, tangling me within your grasp.” Rhaenyra froze, unable to rip her eyes away from his; her brother’s secret seeping into her soul like honeyed wine. A tear slid down her cheek. He reached out to brush the back of his knuckle against it, but a sharp voice stopped him in his tracks and she stared up at her uncle’s obsidian violets.

“Aegon…” he said gruffly, grabbing Aegon’s wrist harshly, envious of his nephew’s flesh, ghosting her tear stained cheek, trying to cleanse it anew. “No one must touch her until the hunt is finished. You, of all, know this.” He hissed, snake-like, wanting to sink his fangs deep into her brother’s jugular, killing him for the words spilling from his mouth.

“Unhand me, uncle…” Aegon threatened, balling his hand into a fist, ready to strike their uncle, to lift a finger and fight him in front of her for the first time in his life. And she understood their difficult relationship fully at that moment.

Rhaenyra was the key to keeping the peace between them. Between men. Between the realm.

The game that she must succeed at.

It was her duty as a Targaryen to offer herself up. A sacrifice of flesh, fire, and blood to keep the starving dragons satisfied and satiated.

She gently rested her hand on her uncle’s bruising grip on her brother’s wrist.

“Please…” she begged piously, pleading with both of them to keep the peace for a little while longer. For now.

Daemon immediately relinquished Aegon’s wrist, retreating from the hall as if her touch had burnt him badly. Another fire lit low in her belly.

Fire flowering in her flesh and blood.

“Take her,” was all Aegon uttered, hoarsely, his eyes unable to glance her way for the first time that day.

Rhaenyra was ushered from the hall, bound and blindfolded, and carried away to an unknown location. To face her future fate.

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badass-queer-couples-battle · 6 months

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Sword gays showdown preliminaries

Propaganda:

For Aki Hayakawa:

Aki is literally the goat of Chainsaw Man. Always acts like he doesn't care about others and then proceeds to put his life on the line for his angel boyfriend who could literally kill him just by touching him.

For Stede Bonnet:

learning how to be better at the blade but also being better about his gay feelings.

For Fenris:

Fenris is an elven warrior who twirls around (barely two handed) a greatsword that's like. as tall as he and then some? He's a mean, brooding bisexual who studied the blade (and some more) to escape slavery and magic that had marked his skin, and yet one of the options of the game he's from is to be a mage and rock his world about it. Can at one point wield a "blade of mercy", which is, in fact, even bigger than his original blade.

He has a REALLY big sword and the deepest thinnest voice any anime elf looking boy has ever had. He can rip people's hearts out of their chests but mostly he swings his giant sword and cleaves them in twain. He is bisexual and broody. He freed his family from slavery but doesn't remember doing it. He freed himself from slavery and (unless you're EVIL) kills his former master after living alone in the guy's vacation home and drinking all his expensive wine for six years.

#sword gays showdown #aki hayakawa #stede bonnet #fenris dragon age #dragon age #chainsaw man #our flag means death #dragon age 2 #ofmd #csm #fenris

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docwritesshit · 1 year

Text

The Ink feels right

Blurb: You rarely felt comfortable, and barley when it was needed. Nothing helped, and in a moment of desperation, you decided to draw on your skin, without realizing someone else could as well

Type: Fluff, bits of angst if you squint. Soulmate AU

Word count: 3.2k

Pairing: Sun Wukong x reader

Authors note: This was just a self indulgent x reader honestly. I rewrite this so many fucking times too-

Ick, that was the best you could do to describe whatever the hell you felt. The feeling of just… ‘no’ was ever present in ways you couldn't pinpoint in any other word or phrase. There were days that you felt the need to scratch at your own skin, gauging at the itch that laid deep within your bones that would not let up no matter what you did.

You tried to distract yourself, you did. Drawing, burying yourself in your work, reading, sewing, taking up any and all projects that made your hands busy. But the ick was still there. And don’t even get started on the intrusive thoughts.

They were the shadows that creeped in the deepest corners of your mind, taking your brain full force, making you want to get rid of your own body. That just made the raking across your flesh ten times worse. This wasn’t your body, not this monstrosity. It was too much, too much all at once. And it made you worry.

At first, your parents grew worried at your constant scatrching of your skin, sometimes drawing blood. Being paranoid, they did many charms and spells, thinking it was a curse that needed an exorcism. But it never went away. So they thought it was a demon, plunging you into training at the ripe age of seven, teaching you self defense and combat through spells and taking advantage of your environment, It made you quick on your feet, and made you busy, but the ick was still there.

Nothing worked for you. You changed your wardrobe dozens of times, thinking the change of fabrics could help. You went on and off perfumes and fragrances, but the result was the same. You wanted to scream to the heavens what were you missing? Was this just a ploy? A game? Some trick to entertain the court above?

It got especially worse today. You were alone in the study, looking over maps for a voyage your cousin would be taking when the ick grew, and the thoughts came. Your whole body felt it was on fire, the thoughts in your mind felt like it was consuming you. You groaned, taking the quill in your hand and swiping it across a document, then on your arm in desperation. You stilled yourself, and looked down.

The ink made a wide, splattered line that swerved across your skin. You bite your tongue, cursing. An old tale came to mind, one your parents gushed about endlessly.

When a celestial becomes of age, there was a small chance there was one person there for them in the world. That one person would share many experiences with them, their triumphs, their failures, their highs and lows. Until they found them, the only thing they would share was the skin across their body.

Your parents phrased it as your body was the canvas you and your bound shared, and together you could make the most beautiful masterpiece even when you were apart. It sounded like you got punished for being eternally connected with someone.

You sighed, getting up from your seat to wash up in the bathroom when you felt more pressure on your arm. You looked down, seeing the ink line transforming into a sea, then a boat was slowly being added, sails fluttering in the wind. You stood in shock, in bewilderment. Was this the person you were bound to? Why did it feel fo foreign yet so… relieving? The ick dissipated a bit, the pressure of the phantom pen keeping it at bay. You stood, witnessing the boat gain a captain, a small monkey with a crown on it’s head, holding up a sword towards a forming sunset. It was enchanting…

A small print followed below the drawing, big and scrawled.

“Thanks for the inspo! I was bored for a bit now”

You stared at the message for a solid ten seconds, before rushing to the bathroom and scrubbing your arm raw to get rid of the masterpiece, watching as the black tinted water swirled down the drain. You waited a few moments for a new message to appear. When none came, you walked back to the study. You would deal with this at a later date.

And… that later date came within the next few hours, when intrusive thoughts began again along with the ick. You groaned, tossing and turning in your bed. You prayed that it would pass, trying to clear your mind, focusing on the feel of the silk sheets underneath your fingertips, but the shadows clawed their way into your thoughts again and again.

You gave up, tossing the blankets aside and going to your desk in the corner, grabbing a pen and your journal, thinking you might as well try and write the thoughts down so they don’t bother you as much. That was the plan anyways, until the pen dripped onto your hand as you tapped it to get an idea going. You began to reach for the rag you kept for times like this when the phantom sensation came back. You looked down to see a ghost pen connecting the ink dots, creating constellations.

You froze again, witnessing as your ‘soulmate’ sketched out a cliff and another monkey looking up at said stars. The shadows retreated back to the corners of your mind, the itch dissipated again, almost fully. You traced your fingers over the constellations, catching yourself smiling. You shook your head, and stalked back to bed. You would deal with this in the morning.

In the morning, you found another note from the ghostly artist using your sin as a sketch pad.

“Most say the constellations are the most beautiful sights to see, but I’d say the stars pale in comparison to you ;)”

You pity the poor training partner your parents set you up with that day, as they got the brunt of your anger and rage and flusteredness. By the end of it, they were struggling to stand, legs wobbling and leaned on the instructor for support. You made sure to send some of your personal remedies and a note as an apology when you calmed down.

Over the next few days, you avoided excessive contact with ink or anything that might get on your skin. You made it a habit to wear long gloves when documenting routes and annotating maps. During training, you convinced your agents to have a barrier around you to not get any dirt or, gods forbid, blood on your skin that would prompt whoever was bound to you to be concerned.

It was night again when it became too much for you. The itch deep within your bones grew more and more, causing you to pace in your room, fidgeting with your rings to stop yourself from raking your nails across your skin. You didn’t want to, still trying to get through the night without even touching a pen, but you relented.

You picked up your pen again, throwing caution to the wind and started with a line. The line became curved, then another line followed. You drew and drew, the itching burn, cooling bit by bit as the doodle grew more. When you woke up from your inky splotched daze, you saw roses and thorns decorating your forearm. You sighed in relief, and made your way back to bed. Then the phantom sensation began again.

“HOW DARE YOU HIDE THESE BEAUTIFUL MASTERPIECES!!! Who knew I had such a talented soulmate?”

You blushed, your brain clearly not kicking in when you responded.

“Well, I didn't want to bother you creating your own masterpieces.”

When you read what you wrote, you smacked your forehead. You really were sleep deprived huh? You could feel your bound write back quickly.

“Oh so you do know how to write! I thought you were just learning with all the ink getting on your arms. But, thank you for the compliment, but I rather enjoy your art as well.”

You bit your lip, tapping your pen to your chin. Should you respond? You already wrote back once, shouldn’t that be enough?

“I like yours better honestly, you make art from my mistakes.”

“Oh those? I was glad for the distraction honestly.”

“Well, I’m glad to be a ‘distraction’ then”

You felt no other phantom sensations after that, determining your artist was too tired to be bothered for much longer. So, you drifted off to sleep. In the morning however, you found a new addition to your sketch, a butterfly with a peculiar wing pattern sat on top of one of your roses, along with another note

“I hope you don’t mind, but I just wanted to release at least one of the butterflies you give me”

Without meaning to, your ‘distractions’ became more frequent to your bound. The nightly ritual of you giving them a line, a few sketch’s their way, and falling asleep as the phantom sensations guided you to your dreams instead of the shadows ever present to your mind.

You caught yourself smiling as the quill dripped ink on your hand, but you let it be. Your parents caught onto your elevated mood, seeing the weights fall bit by bit. They witnessed your forced smile to court officials come easier, your eyes regaining the sparkle they missed. They questioned it, but all you said was you found a way to get rid of the ick for the time being. They were elated, celebrating with a feast of your favorites. You smiled with them, subconsciously rubbing your sleeve where you could feel your bound make another doodle.

And when you were assigned to go down to the mortal plane to see who this new successor to the Monkey King was, you accepted it with little resistance. You needed to get out of the palace anyways.

And oh, was he the Monkey King's successor. You could see the aura around him from blocks away. Honestly it was a miracle that he hadn’t been jumped all day by some sort of demon.

Oh, the heart of gold he wore on his sleeve as well. You could tell he was a fan-boy the minute you mentioned Monkey King to him while talking about going to see the new movie. His ramblings warmed your heart, but you were here on business, not pleasantries. Until the Ick came back.

Sitting in a lone booth waiting for him to come back after some deliveries, you pulled out a marker you started carrying around in cases like these. You started a small line on your palm, going to your wrist, creating vines that wrapped around the veins visible. Your doodling came to an early end when MK entered the restaurant again, joining you in your booth.

“I’m glad you caught me right before my break! What did you want to talk to me about again?” He asked. You smiled, hiding your art with some glamor.

“Nothing too bad, I assure you. I am with the Jade court, and they just wanted to send me down here to see who this Monkie Kid was.” You explained, resisting the urge to look down at your palm when you could feel the artist on the other end add onto your drawing.

“Oh, well- I mean- Um-“ The poor kid got flustered so quickly, a pink blush dusting his cheeks already. You chuckled, covering your smile with your hand.

“Don’t fret please, you seem like a good kid.” You tried to calm him down.

“Oh, ok. Well, I’m still training with Monkey King and I’m still learning.” He said, his hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. You hummed in acknowledgment, recalling how recently he had gotten the staff. His eye then widened, standing up in a panic

“SHIT MONKEY KING- I forgot we had training scheduled like fifteen minutes ago-“ He scrambled out of the restaurant, presumably to change out of his work uniform into a more appropriate sparing outfit. You rolled your eyes. Yep, he was definitely the chosen student of Sun Wukong.

You could feel your little artist stop drawing, taking the chance to look down at your palm again. You smiled, seeing flowers and fruits sprout from the vines you drew. A small note attached as well.

“I‘ll make sure to get a bouquet more beautiful than this drawing, cause nothing can be more beautiful than you <3”

Well, they had gotten a lot more cheesier with the pick-up lines you noticed. The bell above the door to the restaurant made your ears perk up, turning your head and almost fell out of the booth.

“Hey Pigsy, is the kid still here? He and I had training and he still hasn’t shown up”

The cook on there other side of the bar gave a grunt, pointing upwards with his ladle.

“Bud got distracted with deliveries and talking with customers. He’s changing upstairs.”

“Great! That means he’ll be here any minute now!”

The form he took to walk around the city wasn’t too suspicious, wavy ginger hair slicked with a bit of stubble on his chin to account for his fur. You got up, hoping to sneak out the front as he continued to talk with Pigsy, reaching for the handle when he looked over at to see who was leaving. Even with your glamour though, he could still see your celestial form.

“HALT!”

You froze, fingertips grazing the doorknob to your escape. He strolled over, scrutinizing you. You squeezed your eyes closed, praying that he won't try and fight. You knew he was protective of his pupil, and knew he wouldn't take kindly to anyone with malicious intent close to him.

You cracked your eyes open again when you felt his claw grasp at your hand. You pulled away on instinct, pulling it close to your chest. You looked up to see his eyes widened, a small smile lining his lips.

“Now this wasn’t how I expected we would meet.” He commented. You raised up an eyebrow, moving to take a step away when he held his own hand up, letting his glamor down to reveal vines and flowers painting his palm and wrist, along with the note and heart he left behind.

You purse your lips, turning your back to him and pulling out your marker, adding a question mark to the fingertip of your pointer finger. You had experienced some demons and celestial beings trying to pose as your bound, glamorizing their own markings to match yours. You simply added on in secret to see if they were lying, and today was no different.

“You know that’s just going to show up on my skin right? Why a question mark? You could have at least done something funny,” The Great Sage Equal to Heaven said. Your blood froze, turning your head slowly to see that indeed, the question mark was on his pointer finger as well. You looked up at him still rambling on the wasted potential of your symbol for him to try and glamor on his skin. You wanted to combust right then and there, your brain processing you were bound to the menaces to the celestial heavens.

He stopped himself, tilting his head when he noticed your inner turmoil.

“Uuuuhhh, you good?”

You sped out the door, sprinting down the street. You weren’t dealing with this right now.

But he was. He followed after you in his hawk form, above you at every twist and turn you took. You stopped to rest at a bench when he popped up next to you.

“Gotta say, you got a pair of lungs on ya!” He announced, collapsing next to you. You scooted away, the ick coming back now. You huffed, mindlessly scratching at the back of your hand. Wukong noticed, seeing your nails rake across the skin made goosebumps rise. He grabbed your hand again, stopping the motion. You looked up at him, and pulled away from his grasp again.

“Sorry, force of habit.” You mumbled. He furrowed his brows, looking down at his palm that held the art you and him made. He cracked a smile, tracing the vines you sketched.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you were good by the way.” He commented. You chuckled, looking at your own palm.

“Yeah I know.”

He looked back over to you, his tail slowly inching closer to you. You sucked in a breath, debating whether or not to run away again. But the itch grew, and it was becoming unbearable. You sighed, taking out your marker again and placing it in his hand.

“Please draw again.” You pleaded. He raised his eyebrows, but obliged. Taking your arm in his grasp, he began lining out his own staff, and you exhaled slowly as the itch ebbed away. He stole glances, seeing you relax more and more as he drew. You could feel the eyes at the side of your head, and decided it was too far to go back now,

“What is it?” You prodded. You felt the marker become still, the felt tip against your arm. He looked your way again, locking eyes with you.

“Why did you run away?” He asked. You hummed, the words rolling in your mind not forming coherent sentences that would be nice fir anyone to hear. But you did your best!

“Because you aren’t who I expected to be bound to. Though I should have guessed by the amount of monikes you draw.” You deadpanned. He pursed his lips, shoulders shaking in resistance to the laughs building in his chest. A few chuckles escaped, soon a fit of giggles followed. You chuckled yourself, feeling a little lighter.

“Ok, I'll take that, Not on the best terms with the bosses above.” He stated, continuing with his drawing. You hummed, relishing the relief that was flowing through you.

“Hm, well that’s an understatement.” You muttered. That got another chuckle from him. He looked back down at you and his gaze focused on your hand, still with the vines and flowers staining your palm. He locked eyes with you, stilling his hand again.

“Why didn't you draw sooner? And why did you ignore me?” He asked. You froze again, recalling your first contact with each other. You exhaled again.

“To be honest, the line was an accident. But when you drew, it felt… right. The only thing that was right with my body, and I hated it. So I ignored for a while, but… well I call it the ‘ick’. It’s like an itch that I can’t scratch and it gets worse with intrusive thoughts. Anyways, it came back not long after though, and I decided to draw on my skin to see it would help since it did when you drew. It did, and you continued to add on, and it just felt right for once.” You rambled, Wukong holding onto your every word.

He smiled down at you, finishing the last details of his staff before turning towards you, reaching his hand out.

“Well, if it felt so right, what’s wrong about it?” He inquired. You looked at him, and grinned. You accepted his hand, and he pulled you into a tight hug. You melted against his warmth. You guessed dealing with it now wasn’t so bad…

#lmk sun wukong #monkie kid sun wukong #lego monkie kid #lmk swk #x reader #sun wukong x reader

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