#He had an entire kingdom on his shoulders in the process

[legendsofold]

I really don't get all the hate for king rhoam. Like, was he a superb father? No, not really. But he was also a king who knew that he and his kingdom were on the verge of an inevitable apocalypse. You expect him to be acting all fine and dandy while knowing that he and everything amd everyone he loves could be completely wiped out in a single moment? Like cmon guys.

#No he wasn't exactly the best dad #But I think it's mostly just because he didn't really know what to do #His wife-the only person who knew how to awaken the sealing power-died before Zelda's training began #So he probably knows just as little as how to awaken it as Zelda herself does #He had an entire kingdom on his shoulders in the process #One right on death's door #Like give him a break guys #Botw #Rhoam #King rhoam #Zelda

[sarcastic--metaphor]

Winter's Night

AKA frosty old man yaoi

I've been thinking a LOT about the newest Fionna and Cake episodes... i'm not sorry

AU where the Candy Queen never shows up and the F&C gang hang out in the winter kingdom for a while longer.

Excerpt:

He didn't know why, but Simon approached his double as he played away on the piano. Then again, in the Winter King's world, wasn't he the double?

"Yes?" the King asked, not even turning around. Simon paused, his bare feet seemingly stuck upon the frozen floor.

"I..." Simon came to the terrible realization that he didn't know what to say. Or why he'd even come here, following the other Simon's music, "I couldn't sleep."

+++

It'd been a day since they arrived in the Winter King's world. Or two now, given that it was the very early hours of a new day. The sky outside the vast halls of the castle were dark and misty, the moon tucked away in a blanket of pale clouds.

Simon let his fingertips glide over the chilly windows, the pads of his fingers catching on not even the slightest bump or rough patch of ice. Everything in the castle, everything in the entire kingdom, was so perfect.

And this left him restless. More so than the strange scarab man that'd been following them, who was still thankfully trapped in a chunk of ice. If the Winter King's estimates were correct, the duplicate crown would be completed within just seven days of the process beginning. And then Simon would be pulled back into a dizzying, eternal labyrinth of madness.

Not eternal, he reminded himself. He promised to show you how to tame it.

To tame the crown. Simon had tried so many times to do just that only to fail in his own world. Even with the proof right before his eyes, he didn't know how in God's name he was ever going to become like the other Simon.

Which was why he was here, being chased through the silent halls by his thoughts. Somewhere in the haze of memories that belonged to the Ice King, Simon remembered being restless. With all that magic, the Ice King was far more energetic than he ever was. And maybe it'd rubbed off on him.

As he turned a corner, Simon paused at what he thought was the sound of wind. Or maybe not wind, but a whistle? No, wrong again.

it was the high notes of a piano coming from far away.

Finding himself no longer entrenched in his thoughts, Simon made his way toward the sound, unsurprised to find his doppelgänger tapping away at a cerulean piano.

The Winter King was out of the suit he wore during the day, instead dressed in loose robes in brilliant hues of pale white and sapphire. Seems like Simon wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep.

He lingered in the entryway to the throne room. The other had his back to Simon, playing a soft but cheerful tune. He didn't yet know he had an audience and was instead playing a concert for himself. Exhaling, Simon closed his eyes and searched for anything familiar in the Winter King's music: a scrap from one of the songs he and Marceline used to make up when she was little, the melody to the Cheers opening, those old Broadway tunes Betty used to hum while she read.

Nothing. He opened his eyes.

He didn't know why, but Simon approached his double as he played away on the piano. Then again, in the Winter King's world, wasn't he the double?

"Yes?" the King asked, not even turning around. Simon paused, his bare feet seemingly stuck upon the frozen floor. 

"I..." Simon came to the terrible realization that he didn't know what to say. Or why he'd even come here, following the other Simon's music, "I couldn't sleep."

Before he could apologize and leave, WK, as Fionna had taken to calling him, turned and smiled over his shoulder. He sat to one side of the piano bench, a clear invitation. Feeling as if he couldn't excuse himself at this point, Simon took the offer and sat beside him.

"Oh, dear," the Winter King said, looking down, "Your poor feet!"

"Huh?" Simon followed his gaze. Yes, his feet were looking a bit discolored. They'd taken on an ashen hue and as he flexed his toes, Simon was a bit surprised to find them quite numb.

"What happened to your complimentary slippers?" Winter King asked. He clapped his hands and those two girls, the Ice Scouts, came out of nowhere with a fresh set of plush, white slippers. Simon could hardly utter thanks before they jet off to leave them alone.

Nevertheless, he slipped them on. He, along with the others, had been given very large guest rooms in the castle well stocked with warm, winter clothes. But when Simon climbed out of bed, sick with his thoughts, he'd taken a white robe and nothing more.

He fought the urge to laugh at himself. "Truth be told, I sometimes forget that the cold can hurt me."

He spoke as if this were still a recent development. But the last ten or so years as Simon were nothing compared to the thousand spent as Ice King.

A hand fell upon his shoulder. The other Simon at least didn't stare at him with pity. Just that sort of self-assured confidence that was, admittedly, entirely earned. 

“Well, not to fret! Soon you won’t have to worry a thing about the cold.”

The Winter King laughed at his own words, his hand becoming a firm, reassuring touch on Simon’s shoulder. 

Kingly, his mind supplied, Yes, that was the only way to describe this exact blend of pride and poise. Simon suppressed the sudden shiver that tickled his spine. 

“Tell me, do you play?” Winter King asked, gesturing to the piano. 

“Oh, I… do.” Simon said. He’d let his musical interests fall to the wayside in recent years, but yes. 

Winter King sat up straighter as he clapped his hands. “Then how about a duet?” 

And who was Simon to deny his kindly host?

He rolled his shoulders and began a slow song. The keys were a little lighter than he’d expected, the sound a bit shaper, making his first few notes louder than he would have liked. But neither said anything as his playing even out.

And soon a second set of hands joined him on the keys.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had a partner,” Winter King said, taking Simon’s hesitant song and breathing some more life into it. His fingers danced across the piano with far more confidence, taking what Simon started and making it much more his own. 

It was a beautiful song though, as was everything the Winter King touched. And it far out paced Simon’s rusty skills. He paused once he felt that he could no longer keep up. 

“You play very well,” he said, smiling politely. Hands hovering over the keys. 

Winter King beamed. “And you simply flatter me.”

He tapped Simon on the nose, making him blink in surprise. The Winter King edged closer, shrinking the space between them until their knees bumped and their thighs touched. Simon moved on instinct to give them both more space but found himself already at the edge of the bench. 

Winter King studied him with that ever-cheerful expression. “You seem tense, my Simon.”

“Ah, well…” he adjusted his glasses. “A lot on my mind, I suppose.”

Without missing a beat, “And if I could help with that as well?”

Simon blinked and without warning, found them so very close together. The Winter King was leaning over him, making use of his superior height to bear upon him with an eager smile. But it was just so sudden, so much that it left him reeling. 

“I’m terribly sorry,” Simon said, standing, “But you’ve already done so much for me, for us, that–”

A hand reached out and grabbed his wrist. Simon did finally shiver, a little jolt going up his arm. 

Winter King rose, still holding Simon’s wrist. At his full height, he was the picture of grace, yet the hairs on the back of Simon’s neck stood on end. Winter King took Simon’s wrist in both hands, raising it, and…

And pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. 

His breath caught in his throat. Even the Winter King’s lips were as cold as ice. 

A stray memory resurfaced in his mind, of something Cake said when they first arrived. 

“Kiss each other!”

Which he would’ve brushed off as nonsense if it weren’t for what the Winter King said in response. 

“Don’t think it hasn’t occurred to me.”

But the inhabitants of Ooo, of most variants of Ooo, were all just a bit silly and strange, weren't they? Simon thought that surely the Winter King meant nothing by it.

Until now. 

“It’s been quite a long while…” Winter King began, “Since I’ve had a partner.”

He met Simon’s gaze with unflinching sincerity.

Meanwhile, Simon’s brain was being tossed back and forth between denial and shock. And perhaps a third emotion which he couldn’t yet describe. 

He cleared his throat and tried to find his voice. Simon said, “N-now look at who’s flattering who.”

But his meek attempt at humor fell flat. Winter King acted as if he hadn’t even heard it, still holding Simon’s hand. He even wrapped an arm around Simon’s waist, palm pressed against the small of his back. Despite his night clothes and the robe, he still faintly felt that icy touch. 

The Winter King said, “My Simon, tell me. How long have you felt so lonely?”

And he shuddered at that. It wasn’t as if he’d disclosed his own sour past to the Winter King. At least, not in full detail. He hadn’t brought up his sad life as a living relic on display, or the use of magic creatures as batteries for his spells. 

Or just how empty the world felt. How empty he felt. 

“How did you-”

“I can see it plainly,” Winter King said, “I can see it on your face. I see it because I once felt it myself, before I built this wonderful world of mine.”

Again, the space between them was slowly closing. Simon’s body was still ringed by the arm keeping him in place. 

Winter King asked softly, “Who better to be at your side than I? And you at mine? Why don’t I assuage that ache you feel?”

And Simon could have said a million things in response. 

You don’t want me, I’m just an old man. 

I don't feel the same way. 

But Betty–

I can’t. 

Don’t. 

No. 

Please…

Simon said not a word as another frigid hand took his chin and tilted his head back. He merely shut his eyes and let the breath be stolen from his lungs. The Winter King smelled of pine and frost.

He tried not to shiver. And he also tried not to think of Betty. 

That was rather easy. Betty had been human and warm. 

And everything about the Winter King was cold. Cold, but clean and polished and beautiful. Not only that, but willing and wanting. 

When the Winter King pulled away, lips parted and eyes partly lidded, he hummed in delight and seemed not the least bit interested in stopping. His cheerful demeanor was gone now, his hold on Simon’s waist growing tighter. 

And Simon finally identified that third emotion he felt, a kind of fearful longing. In his world, he had grown to hate snow and ice, even rejecting it in his drinks. But he couldn’t deny how familiar it was. 

And try as he might, he couldn’t run from how a part of him still ached for it. 

So he relented, leaning into Winter King’s touch with silent acceptance. 

He said nothing and put up no resistance as the Winter King pressed him against the piano, a wave of discordant notes filling the throne room as he leaned his body into Simon’s and held him and felt him and took from him. 

The cold, once again, was such a great and terrible thing.

#fionna and cake #simon petrikov #the winter king #simoncest #i love this old man #and his hotter taller more deranged counterpart #fionna and cake spoilers #gets a little slutty at the end

[ichorai]

the wolf and the beast ; toji fushiguro.

part of the A SONG OF CURSES AND CROWNS collection!

pairing ; assassin!toji fushiguro x stark!f!reader

synopsis ; nobody told him that his target had a direwolf.

words ; 3.3k

themes ; fantasy, asoiaf au, assassin au, prisoner au, enemies-to-???

warnings / includes ; mentions of murder, descriptions of injury/blood, classism, foul language, toji hates your wolf, toji stealing from a whorehouse LMAO

main masterlist.

Lannisters paid good money for their dirty work to be done by someone other than them. Toji was more than happy to comply once he heard the price for your head was enough to last him a few years, maybe even more if he stopped betting on jousting events. He asked no questions, and didn’t bother dwelling on the reason why they wanted you dead. Though, if he had to guess, it might have been because you were the most eligible noble lady to be married off to the king (a white-haired cunt, Toji liked to call him). Being Queen Regent of the Seven Kingdoms was clearly a position the Lannisters were hungry to get their claws on. 

Toji didn’t really care. He was just happy to get the gold.

It was supposed to be a simple, easy task. After all, you lived in a cushy castle, draped in expensive furs and coats, eating the softest of breads and drinking the sweetest of nectars. The spoiled brats were always the easiest to take out. 

Getting into Winterfell went smoother than he’d expected. A few miles down the road leading to the castle, he’d killed two men driving a horse-led cart full of wine barrels—meant to be delivered right to Winterfell. 

And so he got through the South gate with ease. The guards interrogated about the wine, and Toji prattled on about the aging process of the alcohol, the special concoction of grapes and infused spices, the sweetness of the reds, the tartness of the gold wines, and whatnot. None of it was really true, of course. Toji just spoke out of his ass, pulled out product papers he found in the satchels of the men he killed, and smiled charmingly when the guard waved his hand to let him pass.

A gangly, young stableboy with red hair and blue eyes escorted him to cellars, where the wine barrels would be stored. And, after asking the little boy, Toji realized, to his utter delight, the Great Keep was just above him. 

Up the cobblestone staircase he went, far louder than a mouse, but Toji moved quick enough for it not to matter. 

There was one problem, however. He hadn’t taken into account the possibility of you not being in your chambers. Which, you clearly weren’t. The entire Keep was silent and vacant, save for a few handmaidens he spotted collecting soiled laundry. He made sure to keep out of their sight.

And so, Toji settled for waiting in the largest chamber—which he assumed was yours, being the Warden of the North and all. He glanced around, inspecting all the trinkets laid about on your desk: silver jewelry, shoddy wooden carvings of wolves, and, interestingly, various scabbarded daggers. He pocketed what looked to be of some value. He inspected some more, lazed around on your large bed, and rifled through the many furs and fine garments in your closet. Many of the dresses he held up to his chest spanned only half the width of his broad shoulders, much to his amusement.

Hours later, once footsteps echoed down the hall, Toji sprang up from the polished wooden chair (he totally hadn’t fallen asleep) and hid behind the door. 

You strode in, covered in dirt, snow, and dried blood. There were leaves clinging to your hair. It seemed that you’d just gotten back from a hunting party. You had yet to spot the tall, burly man in your chambers, your back still to him as you began to shirk off your boots.

That was when Toji moved. 

Curved blades in hand, Toji surged forward and aimed to stab you right through your heart—

You turned around just in time to see your direwolf lunge at the figure, her sharp teeth sinking into Toji’s shoulder. The man let out a startled cry of pain, the weight of the wolf sending him careening down to the ground, his head cracking against one of the posts of your bed. Stars danced about his vision as pain shot down from nearly every part of his body.

Its teeth tore through the musculature of his bicep and collar, its claws tearing through his tunic and the skin of his abdomen with each swipe. Toji landed a poorly aimed strike to the direwolf’s midriff, but she merely grew more aggressive in her ministrations. 

Nobody had told him you had a fucking direwolf.

If he’d known, he would’ve reconsidered taking the job. He still would have agreed, in the end, the gold was too much to turn down, but it would’ve been good information to know beforehand. 

Curse the Lannisters. Curse their gold. Curse you and your stupid pet—

“Down, Reika,” you ordered, which had the accursed beast backing away from him with snarling, bared teeth, dripping with what he assumed was his blood. “Good girl.”

Toji made a strangled noise of pain as he attempted to sit up.

“It’s been a long day,” you stiffly told him, eyes narrowed as you knelt down and pressed one of the daggers from your desk—now unsheathed—right over his jugular. The cold metal kissed his skin and he immediately stopped moving. He could see his weapon scattered an arm’s length behind you. There was no way he could possibly reach it without you slitting his throat first. “Hunting party gone wrong. I wanted nothing more than to come home and take a long, hot bath. And what do I have to deal with? A sad attempt at an assassination, and my carpets covered in your blood.”

Toji scowled, but said nothing in return. 

“Guards,” you said, strangely calm for someone who had nearly (if not for your wretched, overgrown dog) been assassinated. “Take him to the dungeons.”

As Toji was dragged away, leaving a dripping trail of blood in his wake, he caught a glimpse of you kneeling by your wolf, your hand shaking with adrenalized fear you hadn’t dared show in front of him. He was glad he was able to see it—just a glimpse of weakness was more than enough ammunition for him.

The dungeons were cold and dreary. Much like the rest of the North, Toji bitterly thought. It was hard to see as well, for the sparse few torches hanging on the walls only barely lit the walkway. 

He could hear everything, though. Dripping of water in the distance. A raven cawing outside. The torch’s flame whispering greed to the air. Footsteps growing louder—

Toji sat up against the wall when a figure stepped in front of the wrought metal bars, dark with decades of use and age. 

“Food,” came your voice. “I don’t usually do this, you know.”

The man, your prisoner, lazily tilted his head up from his position on the ground to look at you, his gaze dropping down to your hands where one carried a bowl of braised meat and the other held a chalice of wine. The chalice alone was probably worth more than anything he’d ever owned in his life.

“Bring food to a man? I can tell,” Toji dryly responded.

Your expression remained unchanged. “Bring food to a prisoner.”

It was then that Toji noticed a pair of glowing eyes by your legs, the beast’s tale curling over the back of your knees. The maester might have bound him up nice and clean (though not without pursed lips of obvious disapproval), but his wounded shoulder still throbbed with terrible pains. 

“You brought your dog,” he observed.

“Wolf,” you corrected. “Her name is Reika.”

“Wretched thing,” Toji half-heartedly snarled.

The beast snarled back at him. Its eyes, amber and sharp, only grew brighter with agitation.

You decided to ignore his comment. “Do you want to tell me what you were doing in my chambers?”

There was clear disdain in your features, from what little Toji could see of it anyway, but he could also pick up on the evident curiosity there—it wasn’t every day you had to deal with a Southern commoner.

“Won’t make much of a difference now, would it?” he drawled, kicking his feet out so he could rest his elbows over propped-up knees.

“Your choice of words could very likely spark up a war between houses,” you said. It was said as a jest, though you knew it was a large possibility. 

“Would be no fun to start a war if I’m not there to partake,” came his reply. His stomach cinched as he inhaled sharply, the warm smell of peppered venison wafting through his cell. “You came here to give me food and yet you’re still clutching onto it like a babe with its mother’s teat.”

“You have a foul mouth,” you said, now slightly amused. Who knew the Warden of the North had a sense of humor? “Tell me who sent you. Then comes the food.”

Toji glowered some more. For a minute, he considered what you’d do if he simply refused to say anything. But his tummy grumbled, and his resolve dissipated into mist.

“The Lannisters paid me a pretty sum to have you dead,” he said. 

To his interest, you didn’t seem a single bit surprised. “Ah. Yes, I suspected so. Jenna Lannister was particularly prickly to me last we met.”

“Are you going to give me the food or what?” Toji barked, words heavy with irritation. He really couldn't care less about your snooty endeavors.

“I don’t want the throne,” you went on, much to his chagrin. Though, you did lower yourself to his same position and slipped your wrists through the bars to place down the bowl and chalice. “Not the Iron one, at least. The burden is heavy… and the North is enough for me. Marrying the king means I’d have to sire heirs, and I have no interest in doing so. Winterfell is not short of Starks—my brother and his lady wife have had enough little children for our name to carry on the family legacy for centuries.”

Toji could have easily grabbed at your wrists and slammed your head bloody into the bars. Your stinking mutt made him pause, however, and you pulled away before he could make a move. 

Besides, he was hungry.

Toji tore at the meat like a rabid animal. It fell apart in a deliciously tender manner. Hot soup dribbled down his palms, which he ravenously licked away. You didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, you took a seat opposite his cell and watched him with clear fascination.

“How’d you get that scar?”

Toji chewed at a particularly large chunk of meat and swallowed it with little effort. “Not everyone grows up in a lavish castle eating pastries and meats and sucking squire cock.”

It took you a moment to respond, but when you did, your words were calm and flat. “I’ve brought you meat. If it is pastries and squire cock you require, you need only ask. Give you a taste of a lordly life.”

Now you really must have been japing. Mocking him, even. Toji didn’t find you all that funny. 

“Why are you here?” he gruffed around another mouthful after taking a long swig of wine. “Are friends hard to come by in the North? Or is it just you?”

That seemed to strike a nerve. You sucked at your teeth. 

“I saw you,” he pressed. “As your guards dragged me away. I saw you looking scared. Cowering by your wolf because I nearly got you. If that beast hadn’t been there, you would have been long dead. It would suit you.” Toji’s eyes gave you an intrusive onceover, despite all the layers you were wearing. “You’d make a lovely corpse.”

“Only a fool fights back fear,” you shot back, though it was quite obvious that your confidence had taken a blow. “Fear keeps us alive.”

Toji made a humming noise into the bowl that he picked up to slurp at the last remaining drops of soup. 

“More,” he demanded once he pulled his face away, tongue laving over his lips to catch what had smeared over his mouth. The portion you had given him was ridiculously small.

Perhaps that was a calculated choice. Toji only realized that when you spared him a cold little smile. 

“Hey!” he growled out when you pushed yourself back onto your feet. “I’m fucking starving here!”

Silent as a wraith, you strode out of the dungeons with Reika padding along beside you.

Much time passed. Each night (Toji assumed it was night, he could hardly tell since there were no windows anyway), you would come down with a bit of food and drink. You would sit and talk with him about the most mundane of things, the most asinine of topics, and the most boring of subjects. Toji yawned and yawned so you would take the hint, but you ignored him each time.

He was beginning to think you truly didn’t have any friends up there. Other than your stinky mutt, of course.

There was even one time where you had opened the grating. From what he heard, Starks were quite religious folk—slobbering all over their bloody trees and old gods. He’d told you he wanted to see the Godswood as he himself was devout (he, of course, was nowhere near devout and hadn't prayed a single day in his life), and you, with softened eyes, reluctantly agreed on the condition that he remained shackled and quiet. 

He killed a guard that night trying to escape. You struck him with a terribly strong blow to the back of his head, and your damned wolf sunk its teeth into his shin. The maester was none too happy to see him again. No milk of the poppy was administered, so he suffered through the pain. It was all worth it, though. He was outside of the dungeons for a grand total of two seconds, and the air had never tasted so clear and so sweet. 

You were angry at him for quite a while but still found it in you to visit nearly every day, which Toji found highly amusing. Then you grew soft on him again (which took many moons), and Toji oft wondered if you usually pardoned prisoners this quickly. 

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” Toji asked on the seventh moon of him being your prisoner. Of course, he had asked this question multiple times before, but your answer seemed to always vary.

You may be of value. You do not deserve death. The gods smile at mercy. Reika likes you. 

Those were all reasons you’d given him before. Though Toji had a very hard time believing the last one.

You regarded him with knitted brows. “If I’m being honest… I’ve grown quite fond of you.”

Toji drew his head back in surprise. Then, an arrogant, flirtatious smile flitted over his scarred mouth. It was the same smile he used to use on whores in the Street of Silk so they would take him to their seducing chambers—he could never understand how the drawers and shelves of whorehouses seemed to always have an abundance of loose coppers and silvers. 

“But—” You began to continue but Toji quickly cut you off.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said, lifting a hand up. You frowned. “You’ve fallen in love with me. And you’re thinking that if the circumstances were different, we’d be pawing at each other’s bodies like there was no tomorrow. And you worry that your people wouldn’t approve. You needn’t worry about such matters—I’m sure Northern folk would regard me as your equal if you let me out of the cell and force me into marriage. That would make me their liege lord, wouldn’t it?”

An indignant look settled over your features, your skin flushed as if you’d downed a heady drink.

“Are you mad? Of course I’m not in love with you, you imbecile,” you retorted, crossing your arms. “Besides—I’m not looking to marry anyone. And if I was, you’d be the very last on my list, thank you very much.”

Toji didn’t even have the gall to look embarrassed at his bold assumption.

“I had to try, didn’t I?” He gave you that lazy smirk once more. “Being Lord of Winterfell sounds like a cushy life. Cushier than this one, at least.”

“Well…” You toyed with a frayed thread on your robes. “I can offer you a life cushier than prison.”

Toji snorted. “I’m not going to be a glorified stableboy or a squire. I’d much rather sit here and have you bring me food than the other way around.”

“I considered sending you to the Night’s Watch,” you admitted with a ponderous look. “There are plenty of men like you there—I’m sure they would welcome another good fighter.” Toji didn’t have time to snark about how you’d complimented him before you were already speaking again. “But then I realized that you might still be of use to me.”

“I’m a good bed warmer,” offered Toji. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laid on a plush bed. Not since yours, at least. He thought about your bed often. Usually without you in it. The times he did imagine you there, your wolf always came in and ruined his entire lovely daydream.

You spared him an unamused look. “I want you to be my spy. Ears and eyes for me down South. Particularly in the West, where the lands crawl with Lannister cock-sucking houses. I need to know what they plan so I can be five steps ahead.”

A moment of silence passed by. Toji’s upper lip curled into a sneer.

“No,” he began to protest. “Why in the seven hells would I—”

“I’ll pay you with enough gold to sink you to the bottom of the ocean. And once you have tired of gold, I’ll fill you with as much venison stew as your heart desires. And once you get sick of that, I will find you a Northern castle and grant you the title of a lord for your services. You’ll live the rest of your days comfortably. Granted you do as I tell you, of course.”

That made Toji pause and consider your offer.

“Why me?” he finally asked. He drew nearer to the bars, nearer to you. 

“You’re a Southerner, aren’t you? You know the lands better than any of my loyal Northmen. You’d… fit in.”

Toji wanted to laugh. He wasn’t ever very good at fitting in.

“How do you know I wouldn’t just lie to you and ally myself with the Lannisters?”

“Because,” you huffed, nose wrinkling. “You think they’re all cunts. You’ve said it yourself plenty of times. And—I’m not foolish enough to have you as my sole plant. If you lie, I’ll know. And I’ll have Reika hunt you down… and she won’t be held back this time.”

She was holding back the previous times? Toji distantly thought with a scowl. 

“What do you say?”

“It’s a far journey down South. You’ll miss me.” Toji’s cheek pressed up against the uneven metal bars. They were so cold it felt as if they were burning right through his flesh. 

“I’ll find another prisoner to entertain,” you replied, eyes glimmering. Another jape. You didn’t deny his words, however.

A moment of considerable silence passed. Toji bowed his head ever so slightly. The first time he’d ever done so to you.

“I’m in, Wolf.” It didn’t pass his notice how your eyes lit up, how your back stood a little straighter, how your fingers curled excitedly into the fabric of your riding cloak. You didn’t even seem to mind the nickname he’d given you. “When do I start?”

#toji fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #toji fushiguro fanfiction #toji x reader #toji fushiguro fanic #toji fushiguro fluff #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro angst #jujutsu kaisen toji x reader #toji fushiguro imagines #toji fushiguro drabbles #toji zenin x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[adrift-in-thyme]

I’ve never requested anything before so I hope this is right!

I’m going with some Malink angst, I absolutely LOVEEE reading your whump fics for them so I guess… more pain please? 🥲 if that’s okay?

Tysm for the prompt @endlessartpumpkin <333 I had a lot of fun with this one. It’s very angsty hehe

I hope you enjoy it!

CW for blood and injury

——————————

Malon has always been aware of the possibility that Link would die before her. He is a hero, after all, her knight in shining armor through and through. If someone needs help — whether to reunite with a loved one or save an entire kingdom — he will never refuse them.

Sometimes, she has the selfish yearning that just once…he would.

And now, as she gazes at the heroes standing on her doorstep, as she gazes at her husband lying limp in Twilight’s arms, she wants it more than ever. Because Link, who is full of life and laughter and love, Link who has faced the moon itself and lived to tell the tale, her Link who proposed with the biggest, gaudiest ring in Hyrule because he wanted to show her how much he cared…Link the love of her life should never look like he does right now.

She steps forward, one hand held to her lips, the other reaching out to touch him.

He is so pale. His chest hardly rises, breathing so shallow it is hardly there at all. If she allowed it, she could be convinced that he is already gone.

Malon forces herself to take a deep breath. She won’t do that. She won’t imagine that her fairy boy is dead.

“What happened?” She asks, tone sharp with panic.

It is Twilight who answers, in a broken voice she has never heard him use before.

“He…he took a hit that was meant for me.”

His breath hitches. It is only slight, but Malon hears it anyway. She lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. When he looks at her, there is such pain in those gray eyes, such sorrow, that it breaks her heart.

There is hardly time to comfort him, however. They both know it.

“Bring him inside,” she orders, shoving aside the emotions churning about inside her. “Set him on the bed. I’ll get some supplies.”

Twilight moves without a word. The others follow him into the house, expressions tight and pained.

A hand comes to rest on her shoulder. “I’ll get the supplies,” Warriors says. His face is a mask rapidly shattering. But he smiles, strong for her, strong for the man he calls his little brother.

“You go to him.”

Malon nods, sighing. “Thank you, dear. The medical stuff is in the bathroom. You remember where that is, don’t you?”

“Of course.” In a swirl of royal blue fabric, Warriors is gone.

Taking a moment to steel herself, Malon heads into the bedroom.

They have already laid him on the bed when she steps through the doorway. From this angle, if she didn’t know better, she would think he was merely asleep. But unfortunately, she does know better. And the ashen color of his face, the sheen of sweat upon his brow, the feverish trembling of his body tells her a different story.

Then, of course, there is the blood.

The heroes are in the process of bandaging him. (They work quickly, she thinks with a spark of pride.) But even the thick swaths of fabric that they wind around his abdomen can only do so much to halt the onslaught of crimson liquid.

It soaks them through within minutes.

Malon makes her limbs move, bringing her forward. There is no time to sit here and gaze in horror at what has become of her husband. With firm hands, she grabs a new roll of gauze and sets to work.

Between the ten of them, Link’s wound is cleaned and wrapped in little time. And through it all, Hyrule stands beside her, magic glowing at his palms, trying in vain to heal the injury. But it fights back of its own accord.

“What on earth hurt him like this?” Malon asks, voice tight. The other heroes have backed up now, giving her room to stand by her husband’s bedside. She leans over him, fingers brushing aside his limp bangs. He gives a shuddering breath and turns slightly into her touch.

“We don’t know what manner of monster it is yet,” Warriors says. “But it’s stronger than its companions, and smarter too. And…when someone gets struck by it the wound struggles to heal.”

Malon swallows. “But it does heal eventually, right?” She looks up at all of them, at their sorrowful expressions, at the way they struggle to meet her eyes. “Right?”

“It can.” It’s Twilight now, his voice gravelly from the tears he struggles to restrain. “He’s just gotta keep fighting.”

She turns back to her fairy boy. A ray of sun illuminates the side of his face, making his markings stand out starkly against his pale skin. The crimson stripes look especially fierce in the early morning light.

“He will,” she says, and it is both a demand and a plea, a promise and a prayer. “Don’t y’all worry. He will.”

….

It isn’t until that night that he awakens. The other heroes have drifted away by then, reluctant to leave, but all too aware of the suffocating nature of everyone packed into one room. Only Hyrule and Twilight remain. But both have finally caved to her urgings for them to get some much-needed rest and are slumped over the arm chairs in the corners.

So, when Link drags open his eye, she is the only one who sees it.

His gaze is bright with fever and pain, its usual sharpness dulled. But it only takes him a moment to find her.

“Malon.”

It is breathed more than spoken, hardly a hoarse whisper. He lifts a trembling hand, clumsily cupping her cheek. Gently, she threads her fingers between his.

“I’m here, hon.”

“Mal I…” His breath hitches into a wet cough. It wracks his body, violently, and sends tears sliding down his cheeks. The sound of it tears her heart in two.

“Take it easy, fairy boy.” She fetches a cloth from the side table and wipes away the blood that dribbles from his lips. “That monster did a number on you.”

Link hums. “Would’ve hurt Twilight if-if I hadn’t…”

“I know.” A small, sad smile lifts her lips. “I know.”

He sags against the pillows, breathing shallow, eye half-lidded. He is already fading again, Malon can tell. So soon, too soon.

“The boys,” he whispers, “they’re…”

“Fine. Worried sick about you though. You scared ‘em half to death.”

She shakes her head. The pain within her feels like it will cleave her chest in half.

“Why’d you use your own body to block the blow, Link? You’ve got shields and items – so many of them I can’t even keep track of ‘em all. Aren’t those there to try and make sure this-this…doesn’t happen?”

Link’s expression dulls further. He looks all of his true years now, weighed down by the duties he has long born, exhausted from a lifetime of pain.

“Knocked my shield out of my hand.” He looks up at her and something in his gaze pleads that she understand. “There wasn’t time for-for anything else.”

Malon gazes at him for a long moment.

“You’re insufferable, fairy boy,” she says, at last, a choked chuckle erupting out of her. “Why’d I have to fall in love with such a hero?”

He smiles back, though it is a weak effort.

“Because…of my unbelievably good looks.”

She laughs again and it sounds more like a sob.

“Well, I can’t pretend that that wasn’t a part of it.”

He chuckles, but it quickly dissolves into another coughing fit. She holds his hand through it, battling against the tears that beg to pour forth. And when it is over, she wipes away the blood again, and the tears. He closes his eye and leans into her touch.

“You gotta promise me somethin, fairy boy,” she murmurs, as she sets the cloth aside and rubs her thumb against his cheek instead.

Link looks up at her, something terribly vulnerable in his expression. She has only ever seen him gaze at her with such a look. It is an overwhelmingly precious thing.

“Anything,” he says and she believes him.

“You keep fighting, no matter what.” She encases his hand in two of her own, grip as desperate and firm as her words. “Don’t you give up, you hear me? Don’t you dare even think of giving up.”

Her voice cracks, but she plows on anyway. “I can’t lose you, Link.”

His lips quirk up in the slightest of smiles. When he squeezes her hand, it is a feeble movement, but it is there nonetheless, a confirmation that he has heard her.

“I won’t,” he breathes. “Promise.”

The tears come now, cascading down her cheeks in traitorous rivulets. She brushes them away. Then, leaning down, she plants a gentle kiss on Link’s brow.

“Good.”

His eye flutters closed. “Love you, Mal,” he murmurs, voice so soft and quiet she has to strain to catch the words.

But she does. She catches them like the flitting butterflies she used to capture between two careful hands when she was a girl. And she holds them close to her heart.

“I love you too, fairy boy.”

#I kinda based this off a fic I wrote for febuwhump #where time creates a time loop to save twilight from getting smacked by the shadow #and in the end only manages it by putting himself between the sword and twi #so this could be a follow up to that #trin writes #lu time #lu malon #lu chain #lu malink #whump #angst #hurt/comfort #linked universe #linked universe fic #follower celebration #endlessartpumpkin my beloved

[gay-disabled-characters-showdown]

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 1, Wave 2, Poll 5

A character being totally canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included.

Check out the other polls in this wave and prior here.

Riku-Kingdom Hearts

Qualifications/Propaganda:

So Riku is neither canonically LGBTQ+ nor canonically disabled but there's quite a slew of subtextual evidence. And this subtext is considered basically canon due to the creator's (Tetsuya Nomura) stance on media, which is that he enjoys leaving clues for players to figure out. So while Riku is never explicitly said to be queer or disabled, there's clear evidence on both accounts.

So first: Riku is gay. There's no doubt about it (despite what the dudebros insist...) Riku is gay for Sora, his childhood best friend/former rival. Long story short, Riku was afraid of Sora's friendship with this girl Kairi, didn't realize those feelings were gay jealousy, and he got gaslighted by the Mistress of All Evil, MALEFICENT HERSELF, into believing that Sora didn't care for him anymore. He went Dark Mode, destroyed their home, and antagonized Sora for most of the first game. But then he gets trapped in the Realm of Darkness after Sora kicked his ass for the millionth time and he realized how *sora voice* stUpid he was being and helps Sora stop the apocalypse (saved the world counter: 1) Then Riku goes through a whole arc of "wow i was an idiot. sora will never forgive me and i have Darkness in my heart and i need to protect sora while he's in a year-long medically-induced coma to undo his amnesia" and. idk. theres a Lot of stuff. So much so that someone made a 6-HOUR video essay about it! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ll17V9DJr7g)

Riku is also likely suffering from chronic pain. Throughout the year that Sora is in a coma, he fights Sora's Nobody, Roxas, to get Sora's memories back. During the fight, Roxas breaks Riku's wrist, and it never heals correctly. Throughout the finale of Kingdom Hearts 2, the next game chronologically, Riku wears a wrist brace that goes largely unexplained. During the final boss fight, Riku throws himself in the way of Xemnas (the Big Bad) to protect Sora, getting hurt twice in the process; being struck so hard in the shoulder that he's flung halfway across the battlefield, and then hit in the side so badly that it causes him to collapse as soon as the adrenaline from the fight fades. It's likely that none of these injuries healed properly, as even in Kingdom Hearts 3 (which is like 5 games later. dont ask) he has some interesting tells; his walk is incredibly stiff and his battle stance changes, likely because of the strain put on his wrist for the old stance. (https://www.tumblr.com/nobodyriku/706960754548604929 shows this pretty well, though i can't find the other post i had in mind but whatever)

Anything Else?:

soriku endgame actually <3

Darth Maul-Star Wars

Qualifications:

Maul is canonically disabled; he was bisected at the waist by one Obi-Wan Kenobi, but SOMEHOW did not die, and was in fact teleported into a garbage dump, where he proceeded to live as a spider cyborg for the next 12 years, when he was found and rescued by his long-lost brother. He has used prosthetic legs of one kind or another ever since, and in Rebels, he uses a cane. He is also definitely gay. In The Clone Wars cartoon, he is OBSESSED with Obi-Wan, to the point that Obi-Wan is his entire personality and the entirety of his life goals. All he wants is to kill him and cause him suffering in revenge for being cut in half and subsequently abandoned by his master. However, this obsession is. Definitely homoerotic. Dude fights Obi-Wan naked at one point (the animators forgot that people with prosthetic legs still have to wear pants). He literally builds a hate shrine to Obi-Wan's dead ex-girlfriend, who he killed, AFTER he kills her. In Rebels, once he is able to merge the two holocrons and ask any question he wants, he asks where Obi-Wan is. The answer is Tatooine, of course. He goes there, has one final fight with Obi-Wan, and is fatally wounded. HOWEVER. He dies in Obi-Wan's arms. He dies being HELD GENTLY by Obi-Wan. I cannot adequately explain how insane that is. Makes me froth at the mouth. Anyway.

Propaganda:

I love this severely fucked-up dude so much. He dedicated almost 20 years of his life to a single-minded obsession with Obi-Wan Kenobi, an obsession which literally kept him alive when he was chopped in half in a garbage pit, stuck in a hole on Planet Sith, and just generally attempting to live after being raised for nothing but violence as a child. He is missing half his bones, many vital organs, and got his two biggest blood vessels sliced right open, and yet REFUSED to die. He then became a spider cyborg. The first thing he did when coming onboard the Ghost was critique the interior design. He took over an entire planet just to get a guy to notice him. He was kidnapped as a child and tortured nonstop for the first 20 years of his life, resulting in an attachment style where he can only conceptualize relationships as a hierarchy (master/apprentice), so he searches constantly for an apprentice, and even treats his brother as one; despite how he very clearly just wanted a brother, he didn't know how to be in an equal relationship. He does absolutely nothing but cause problems for people-- be they Jedi or Sith. Ahsoka once released him from a magic strait-jacket as a "distraction" and he immediately began tearing panels off of the walls and decapitating people with them. He has a death grip on my brain.

Submitted by @convenient-plot-device

#polls #poll #disabled characters #lgbtq characters #disability #lgbtq #lgbtq dcs round 1 #lgbtq dcs wave 2 #riku kingdom hearts #riku #kingdom hearts #darth maul #star wars

[im--never--happy]

hi hello would you want to talk about mako with me?

hell fucking yeah I do!!! I could talk about Mako 24/7!! What about Mako do you want to talk about?! His amazing bending skills? His guilt and savior complexes? The struggle and internal angst he must have with bending the same element that was used to kill his parents? The trauma of watching his parents be murdered in front of him when he was eight? Him literally raising his brother entirely alone all by himself on the streets with no support or help from anyone while he himself was a homeless child? The work he did for the triads? The things he must have seen and trauma he incurred? What he must have had to do to get himself and Bolin out of the triads, because top secret dangerous gangs don’t just let people walk away with potentially dangerous knowledge and secrets? Or should we talk about how he was the only responsible member of the gang? How he couldn’t trust anyone and was always used to having to take care of everything all by himself? Should we talk about how he never felt deserving of love or affection and always let other people mistreat and misjudge him and he never resented them for treating him unfairly because he literally didn’t think he deserved any better? Should we talk about how he just wants to protect the people he loves and keep them safe? Or should we talk about how much of an outsider he probably felt like in his earth kingdom family and how he had no connection to his fire nation side or any family members who looked like him? Should we talk about how he had no positive firebending role models growing up and even as an adult, how the only firebenders he ever interacted with were triad members? Or maybe we should talk about how betrayed he must have felt by everyone when varrick framed him, or how betrayed and lonely and abandoned and useless and low he must have felt when Bolin had left and he found out korra had stayed in touch with asami but not him? Or what about the guilt and shame and trauma from when he straight up killed creepy waterbender arms lady ming hua? Or what about the fact that he full on sacrificed himself—fully expecting to die— to save Republic City from Kuvira’s evil spirit vine weapon, and was permanently scarred (and probably disabled from it), and how he first ordered Bolin to get out and save Kuivira’s soldiers and himself while Mako stayed behind to blow up the weapon (and probably die in the process)? Or maybe we should talk about how he was so insanely fucking smart and clever and resourceful and logical and rational and brave and also such a huge dork and nerd when he was allowed to be and didn’t have to have all the responsibility and weight of the world on his shoulders? What do you want to talk about friend because I could talk about mako aaaallllllllll fucking day!!

#Mako lok #mako #legend of korra #Atlok #Tlok #tlok mako #avatar #avatar the legend of korra #LOK #Ask #mako supremacy

[zeephyre]

CR3: EPISODE 63 SPOILERS

I'm literally losing my mind rn guys

i haven't even finished the episode yet as im typing this, currently ashton is holding laudna as she cries on their shoulder after she sucked the life out of bor'dor.

i always had the suspicion that bor'dor wasn't telling the truth or telling a version of the truth, but i never really talked about it cause everyone was throwing out theories. i had an...inkling that he was connected to ludinus or just ruidus in general, and i was right in a way.

him being ruby vanguard is devastating but not surprising. it connected so many things that i chose to brush off cause i didn't want to seem paranoid. a specific moment being bor'dor killing the angel of the dawn father. during that scene, the way matt described the look in that angel's eyes as it died did not match the way that bor'dor retold it and i thought i had just...forgotten how the actual scene played out. now that i know, even tho i haven't rewatched that episode, i have a feeling that the hatred and righteous judgement i remembered was the accurate version.

i don't think bor'dor is bad, simply because i have no way to come to that conclusion when i know how easy it is to let fear and pain and anger drive you to vengeance -- the hellians are feeling it too, and i feel deep compassion for them so i feel for bor'dor too.

for all of ludinus' preachy bullshit he never gave me the impression that he gave a single fuck about the people who followed him or about the lives he ruined to accomplish his goal. i don't think bor'dor was some big wig, i think he was just a kid who was vulnerable and powerful and easily coerced. i do not think he is without blame -- his actions with the ruby vanguard have led to incomprehensible repercussions for everyone on exandria and outside of exandria too. (bear in mind, we don't even know how the apple bee's soul cycle has affected the fey realm -- or any other realms for that matter).

i think that there was no way bor'dor could have survived this night with the way it went. i don't think there could have been a moment where he snuck away. if he got a lucky roll, maybe. i don't think bor'dor died because /he/ was an unforgivable monster.

he died because laudna, ashton and orym were at their breaking point and none of them wanted to pull each other from that place of hatred and anger. they've spoken about feeling powerless -- terrified and angry at the situation they were forced into when they truly have nothing to do with ludinus' anger at the gods. orym, especially, has been struggling with his grief and his stubbornness, and this moment will have effects on all of them for these upcoming battles and hardships.

laudna. jesus christ. im so upset that delilah is back. or at least pieces of her are thriving inside laudna, seemingly every time she uses her necrotic magic. for a single moment, she felt delilah's complete control over herself and other people in a situation where laudna had no idea what to do and how to get shit done, and as soon as delilah had nothing left of bor'dor to scavenge off of, laudna was back to feeling weak.

i can't even process the lore drops of ashton's heritage and his father and the history of the hishari and the fact that abadina WAS an hishari ???? they need to go that cursed town soon or im gonna lose it. hell, maybe they're already headed there.

deni$e might say she didn't care whether bor'dor lived or died but i know that isn't true because she was a) the only person who didn't actually hurt him and b) she was trying the entire time to get the others to at least interrogate him. i don't think that would work for multiple reasons. bor'dor was yeeted to kingdom come so bor'dor would likely not have anything useful for them atp, and also bor'dor is absolutely not nearly as important to ludinus as they need him to be.

im gonna miss utkarsh 😭

i think that maybe if bells hells was together, he'd live. but ashton, laudna and orym are too... there's something dangerous about these three being separated from their people. dangerous for themselves mentally and for anyone who stands in their way. i NEED bells hells to be reunited again.

it's sad that the characters with such a strong history of loss and betrayal and abandonment and grief and loss of control would have the traitor amongst them. there is nothing that bor'dor could say that would lessen the pain orym feels having lost his husband and his father, of him and his friends being killed by a cruel, vicious comrade of ludinus', of the tempest being trapped /because/ orym was the one who led her straight into it. the gods are all good and well, but i don't think it will EVER be about the gods for orym. i won't say he's correct or in the right for his narrowed vision and hardened heart. he took that locket for a reason, and throwing it aside is a calculated disposal of that inherently inconvenient empathy orym has for people around him. he can't afford to feel. not now.

#critical role #cr3 #bells hells #critical role campaign 3 #ashton greymoore #orym of the air ashari #laudna #bordor dogson #bor'dor dog'son #prism grimpoppy #denise bembachula #cr denise #deni$e #cr spoilers #c3 e63 #cr3 ep63 #critical role c3 #c3

[tsukkiibaby]

blackberries ♡ - kita x reader

a/n: ok so here’s what happened with this one. i was mid-writing a medieval guard!iwaizumi au and barely got two sentences in before i got bored bc it seemed too similar to something else i was writing so i went on a walk to clear my head, got 5 mins in and BOOM thought of this idea. started writing then realized it fully sounds like a bridgerton/queen charlotte episode (fully ripping some info/ideas from those shows bc i cannot be bothered to find out if my info is accurate for the time period and i just finished queen charlotte and cried for like 30 mins) so enjoy :)

feat: shinsuke kita ♡ (idk what to call this...suitor!au?)

genre: fluff, historical, bridgerton-esque, kita is an all around gentleman

you’re beginning to think that your options have dwindled.  

with a faint smile directed at the stoic man that towered over you, you bid lord ushijima from the kingdom of shiratorizowa goodbye, allowing your staff to escort him out of the sitting room and towards his awaiting carriages. from her spot on the other end of the plush couch, your mother chuckles dryly and stands, rubbing your shoulder gently before walking towards the door.  

“you’ll find someone, dear.”  

those same words have echoed in your head countless times in the past few weeks. spoken after you met with lord sawamura from karasuno – a handsome man, no doubt, yet you couldn’t quite engage in a casual conversation with him without feeling like you were being scrutinized. repeated again after meeting lord oikawa from seijoh, who monopolized the entire conversation, barely allowing you a chance to speak. and how could you forget the encounter with the baron miya’s twin sons, who spent the entire time bickering, abruptly leaving after only ten minutes? the constant repetition of those words now leaves you with an unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach whenever your maid informs you of a potential suitor’s arrival.  

you’ll find someone.  

would you truly? 

lord ushijima was pleasant enough, you suppose. however, your conversation with him unfolded much like the others, devoid of any genuine interest as the man gazed at you, discussing the strengths of himself and his kingdom as though he had rehearsed it numerous  times, recited the same words to countless young women during the courtship process. void of passion and desire, much like the previous suitors had been. not only him, however, as none of them ever inquired about you, nor your family, nor if you had any interests. too eager to tell you what they thought every woman desired to hear, promising a life that you could only describe as lonely.   

you despised it.  

you were aware that this process could potentially leave you in a loveless marriage. witnessing your siblings and friends find that person that reciprocated their affection gradually eroded the little faith you had been clinging to - that someone could offer you a marriage full of love and passion.   

you’ll find someone.  

you ignore the repeated calls of your name outside your bedroom door the following morning by your mother after your maid was unable to get you out of your room, the two of them urging you to hurry up so that you can eat and get dressed to meet with another potential suitor. in reality, you’d rather gouge out your eyeballs.  

“i do not wish to receive any visitors today,” you declare as you finally emerge from your room, shooting your mother a pointed glare as you pass her and head straight for the dining room. the two women follow you in silence, albeit a few paces behind, and though you cannot see them, you just know they’re exchanging a pointed glance at your reluctant demeanor. 

“we only want the best for you.” you can almost hear the words coming out of your mother’s mouth. it makes you want to throw up. 

but, to your surprise, they never come. your mother does not pester you as she silently joins you at the table, nor does she rush you to eat and start getting ready, even as you take slow, dramatic bites. she finishes her breakfast and stands from the table, offering you an encouraging grin, a stark contrast to the blank expression you wear on your face. slowly, she moves around to the other side of the table where you sit and stops behind you, gently sweeping your hair away from your face, allowing it to cascade down your shoulders. a tender kiss is planted on the crown of your head, and you inhale a silent breath. 

“your person is coming, dear.”    

you watch out of the corner of your eye as she retreats out of the room, listening to her heels click down the hall until the sound disappears, and you let out the breath you’re holding. the loud silence follows you as you finish your breakfast, eyes trained downwards, and the walk back to your room feels longer than normal. the idea of getting dressed, hair and makeup done up only for whatever suitor was to come to disregard everything you say and want in life had your stomach in knots, and not from your breakfast. you remove your sleeping gown and step into a more casual daytime dress, one that you always liked to wear when wandering the vast estate.   

slipping out the back into your estate’s back garden, you pause under the feeling of the sun beating down the exposed skin of your arms and shoulders, your body instantly feeling light and refreshed. you smile to yourself and breathe in deeply, relishing the feeling of the fresh air and sunshine before exhaling. opening your eyes, you begin down the stone path, stepping further into the warmth of the sun. you suppose a nice walk in the warm weather would take your mind off of the almost impossible courting process.     

or so you hoped.   

you take your time as you stroll down the vast rows of bushes and flowers, bright pinks and lavenders and oranges lining the walkway of the back path. with very little clouds in the sky, you relish in the warmth, letting your mind wander as you walk aimlessly, eyes gazing around the arrays of lush flowers. rounding the corner of the far lawn where your berry bushes were planted, you’re surprised to see a small basket on the edge of the path, half-filled to the brim with blackberries. cocking your head to the side, you take a tentative step towards it, eyes glancing around you to look for the culprit.   

   “oh, i’m sorry,” a voice calls from behind you, and you feel your feet leave the ground temporarily as you jump in surprise, your hand flying to clutch your chest. you feel a hand ghosting over your lower back, fingertips swiping over the thin material of your long dress to steady you on the chance that you fall backwards. “are ya alright?”  

   collecting yourself, you straighten your posture and turn to face the source of the mystery voice. your eyes glance upwards, meeting a pair of shining brown eyes, reminiscent of honey under the radiance of the sun, and you have to clear your throat to avoid getting stuck staring at the handsome man  with your mouth open like some sort of peculiar creep. he’s much taller than you, his large frame shielding the harsh rays from your line of vision. the top buttons of his jacket are undone, revealing glimpses of his skin beneath the semi-translucent white fabric of his shirt underneath.  “yes, my lord,” you reply, taking a step back to dip down into a polite curtsy. “i apologize for disturbing you.”  

   “not at all, my lady,” he is quick to speak, extending his hand out towards you. you accept it gently, his touch soft and warm as his palm envelopes your own, the intensity of his gaze never wavering. “lord kita. i was here for lunch with the young lady l/n, but i’m told she is not receiving visitors today.” his voice drops to a whisper upon delivering the latter part of his sentence, his lips curving into a cheeky smile.      

   heat flushes your cheeks under his unwavering gaze, and the playful tilt of his lips at least assures you that he at least has a sense of humor. “i apologize, my lord,” you apologize sheepishly, dipping into another curtsy with your head bowed, cheeks burning as you avoid his watchful eyes, and you hope he attributes the blush to the sun’s warmth.   

   he chuckles lowly, reaching down to retrieve the basket of blackberries, capturing your attention with his slow, careful movements. “no need for apologies, my lady,” he murmurs. “everyone has their bad days,” he says, eyeing the supple berries that fill the basket. “i have a garden similar to this at my estate back home. when i feel weary or overwhelmed, i tend to wander the lawns. even at night, if i have trouble sleeping, i find solace in coming out to the garden, sitting on one of the benches to observe the stars or just strolling under the moonlight.”  

   you slowly raise your head, shyly allowing your eyes to meet his. “you do?” you’re not sure any of the other men you’ve met would even admit to having bad days. 

   he nods, a smile gracing his plush lips. “it makes me feel more at peace with myself,” he says simply, turning to face the row of lush berry bushes adorning the path you both occupy, his long fingers reach out towards the blooming fruit. “when i find myself tired or burdened, tending to the plants and flowers help soothe my soul. it provides me comfort, even in the darkness of the night.”  

   a fleeting glance over at the striking man leaves you mesmerized. his subtle repositioning under the sun grants you a captivating view of his radiance, and you have to will yourself to look away before becoming entranced by the enchanting lord. he plucks one of the berries from the bush and twirls it in his fingers, then turns back to meet your inquisitive gaze, his eyes radiating admiration. “the dowager baroness l/n mentioned your extensive garden on the tour of the estate this morning, and offered a basket of berries as a token of her gratitude for me coming all this way,” he murmurs. “if it pleases you, my lady, i had intended to reciprocate the gesture by presenting them to you in the form of a pastry?” the latter half of his statement comes out almost like a question with the way his voice drops, as if the suggestion would offend you.   

   his eyes burn into yours, leaving you immobilized, unable to move. your mouth is dropped open, the words unable to form in your brain, rendering you speechless. you nod eagerly. “yes, of course. please, accept my deepest apologies for troubling you, lord kita.”   

   “shinsuke is fine,” he corrects you quickly, a permanent smile etched across his face. it’s bright and feels familiar, one that threatens to unravel your composure if he continues to look at you with such fervor.   

the smile you offer him in return is wobbly, and you can’t help but shake your head. “my lord, i-”  

raising a hand to stop you, he reaches out to grasp your much smaller one. “it’s quite alright,” he assures you, gently wrapping his fingers around your palm. the touch sends sparks through your skin, your whole body reveling in the warmth. “i am only interested in getting to know you better, my lady. how are we to achieve that if you do not know my given name?” 

you meet his gaze for only a moment before turning to laugh quietly, a trace of hesitation in the sound that leaves your throat. “i suppose you are correct,” you concede, turning fully to admire the vast gardens. the ones that you help tend to. the ones that find solace in. you direct your attention back to lord kita, a hopeful smile plastered across your face. “perhaps we can start now?”  

now it’s his turn to laugh, hearty and full of joy, tenderly pulling you by the hand he’s grasping away from the estate. “perhaps we can.” 

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #kita x reader #shinsuke kita x reader #shinsuke kita #kita fluff #kita shinsuke #kita x you

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Hey! love your analytical posts! These recent ones... you've really knocked it out of the ballpark! I was wondering whether you'd like to share your take on a few moments in the soc books. Thank you so much:)

How does Kaz know what Inej's tells are? Is it because he "sees everything"? Or maybe because he always looks at her before a fight? What made him look at Inej before the fight with Van Eck?

When Kaz tells Matthias to "watch his tone" with Inej, is it because of her recent injury? Inej doesn't seem surprised by his words, so maybe he's done it before?

If Kaz had known the incinerator shaft was still really hot, would he have still sent her up ("the Wraith can manage it")? Kaz isn't uncaring, especially where Inej is concerned, so why a net for the silos but not a net (or something akin to that) for the incinerator shaft?

Hi, thanks for your question and so sorry I’ve taken so long to answer it!!

On Kaz and Inej’s tells, I definitely think it’s fair to say that he knows hers because he looks at her before the fight; that being his tell. Before the fight on Vellgeluk, Kaz expresses an awareness of this tell and implies that he was trying to stop himself from doing it - “Kaz knew the instant he made his mistake. They’d all known it might come to this. He should have trusted his crew. His eyes should have stayed trained on Van Eck. I est was, in that moment of threat, when he should have thought only of the fight, he looked at Inej.” This is interesting because Inej is entirely unaware of her tell, squaring her shoulders before a move, but Kaz is actively noticing his and condemning himself for it. This probably has a lot to do with Kaz’s self-hatred and his self-destructive nature; if there is any reason to blame himself for something then he finds it, and he takes it out on someone (in this case, Jesper) effectively to jeopardise their relationship as a punishment to himself for ‘failing’. At least that’s how I see it, it’s obviously a very subjective thing and that’s just my interpretation. What I do find particularly interesting, is that Kaz claims no-one notices his real tell because they assume the cane is his tell, revealing an attack against his bad leg to be an easy target, and this is confirmed by Pekka Rollins’ complete failure to acknowledge his tell and/or Kaz and Inej’s feelings towards each other (I’ve talk about that a bit before so I won’t go into major detail), but Van Eck does notice. And not only does he notice the tell, but he immediately recognises what he can do to exploit it - “I wonder what will prove more effective, Ma Ghafa? Torturing Mr Brekker, or making him watch as I torture you” (paraphrasing, I don’t have my Crooked Kingdom on me this second; sorry). I think this is important because this is how Kaz thinks, and there are a couple of parallels between him and Van Eck threaded through the duology as a constant reminder of two things: 1) that Kaz could have been massively successful in Ketterdam as a merchant if only he’d been born rich, meant to highlight the inequity and massive classism of the city/Kerch as a whole, and 2) That Van Eck is just as much a criminal as Kaz or anyone else in the Barrel. He’s Pekka Rollins with a lot more money and a much better reputation, because when you have enough money to outsource you don’t have to get your own hands dirty in the process of scamming people out of their money (secretly bought you jurda farms, kept property off the books, cheated on his taxes, etc), or to buy and se children who are either forced into it or don’t know what they’re signing up for (I’m using his indentured Grisha, the foreign children Inej talks about, and the fact he knows about Vellgeluk as my evidence that he is at the very least wilfully ignorant of a system he’s supporting, and at the worst an active participant in the auction blocks that the other children on the ship with Inej were being taken to or other forms of trading indentures)

When Kaz tells Matthias to watch his tone with Inej, it’s left purposefully ambiguous as to whether his concern is for her or for the general integrity of the group, since this is before the Ice Court Heist and he needs them to trust, or at least co-operate with, each other if he has any hopes of success. I think it’s probably, at least on some level, about both and that could be linked to Inej’s injury - we all know how protective he is of her in the immediate aftermath at the very least. Although I wouldn’t be surprise if he’s defended Inej in this way before, I think it’s also arguable that she has no expectation for the words to be genuinely for her; she always assumes Kaz cares first for the job, second for himself, and third for all others. It’s really only during the Ice Court Heist that she begins to notice the reciprocation of her feelings for him, which is emphasised by her discussion with Jesper in the boat about how uncertain they are that he cares for either of them, and question if it would have killed him to come and see her when she was recovering from the knife wound. We as the readers understand he couldn’t bring himself to see her due to the intensity of his fear and his feelings towards her, but he has thus far given her no reason to think he cares for anyone but himself. Even right before the incinerator shaft climb, she and Jesper express concern to each other that Kaz has set them up somehow and abandoned them to be captured and executed by the Fjerdan guards.

The incinerator is an interesting one, because Kaz never actually mentions the heat. Even when he comments in Inej’s impressive feat afterwards, his exact words are “six storeys in the dark” not ‘six storeys of burning hell in the pitch black with hot coals beneath you’, which is probably how I would’ve categorised the experience. However, having climbed the rope he must have been aware of the heat, so it’s unclear what his real reaction to this is - to be honest I wouldn’t be surprised if her hadn’t noticed at all, since this is in the aftermath of Yellow Protocol being set off by either him or Nina (it’s left ambiguous), him seeing Pekka Rollins, him being chased/attacked by a guard, and him arriving to the others late. I don’t think that any kind of safety feature would have been viable for the incinerator, since they couldn’t have brought anything with them. If they’d known that their clothes would be in the same room then they could have possibly left something with them, but the clothes’ presence was a surprise (“These are our clothes!”) and it would have been nearly impossible to conceal anything or use to her. However, I also think that his insistance on Inej using a net for is important because it’s in the aftermath of him truly coming to terms with his feelings. There’s no denying the way he felt in her absence, the gnawing, empty sensation that came with the fear of losing her, so actually think that his direct quote being something along the lines of “I just spent a lot of time and money on getting my Wraith back, I didn’t do that to lose her again” is a callous way of wording his genuine feelings in this moment. Inej’s refusal to use the net and the restructuring of the plan excluding its presence is also a tension building device, and foreshadows Inej falling from the high wire.

Thank you so much for your question, I am so sorry it’s taken me genuinely forever to answer it!!

#grishaverse #leigh bardugo #six of crows #crooked kingdom #inej ghafa #nina zenik #kaz brekker #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #matthias helvar #kanej #kanej has my whole heart #*cries in kanej*

[photogirl894]

@clonexreaderbingo

Square: "Kiss me."

My first Clone x reader bingo one-shot! I also thought, for the bingo fics, I'd make banners for them since there's gonna be new Clones each time and it would showcase each one! Hunter won the dice roll for this particular prompt and maaaann, was I happy about that! 😆🥰 I did get a bit carried away with this one, but really, who's surprised? 😉 Enjoy, everyone!!

This was a type of mission that the Bad Batch were not used to.

They had been assigned to be a security detail for an important mission for a Princess of one of the planets of the Inner Rim…which was you. You were a woman of great beauty and enchanting eyes; it was bragged you were the fairest woman in the entire kingdom. When they met you, you were told to select one of them to also be your personal bodyguard. It was hard to choose, as they all seemed more than capable ot the task, but you went with your gut and made you choice.

You chose Sergeant Hunter.

You needed the extra security because you were in the process of making a peace treaty with a neighboring planet and, while the nobility of the planet were more than willing to put the conflicts between your planets aside, there were others of the people, especially from the other planet, that were not pleased with the treaty. A couple attempts had been made on your life and it was determined you needed extra protection if you were going to make it out of these peace talks alive.

The Captain of the Guard had given the Bad Batch the rundown of what their duties were while in your service. Once that was complete, the rest of the squad went with the Captain to the war room where they would discuss future plans and strategies for upcoming meetings while Hunter escorted you back to your chambers.

“The lot of you are certainly unlike any Clone troopers I’ve ever seen,” you commented as you both entered the room, lit by the sunlight coming in through a large open window.

“Yeah, we hear that a lot,” he replied as he took off his helmet.

You couldn't deny your heart skipped a beat at seeing his face for the first time. His chiseled jaw, his hooked nose, his mesmerizing brown eyes, the skull tattoo on half of his face, the red band across his forehead and his long, dark and luscious locks the fell just above his shoulders. You'd never seen a more handsome man in your life.

"Are all Clones as…attractive as you?" you then asked, flashing him a flirtatious smile and batting your eyelashes.

You saw his eyes widen slightly as he awkwardly replied, "I'm…unsure how to answer that, my lady."

Slowly striding over to him, you kept your eyes set on him, almost delighting in the anxious look he got as you drew nearer. You glanced briefly down at his lips, wondering what they would feel like on yours. You could easily make him kiss you. You were a Princess, after all.

Feeling bold, you stopped directly in front of him and stated, "Kiss me."

His eyes flashed again and his throat tightened slightly, but then he responded, "I'm sorry, but I can't do that."

You blinked, stunned. Had he just refused you? No one ever did that, not to you. "Excuse me?" you questioned. "I am your Princess and I gave you an order. You must obey it!"

Hunter looked intently at you and declared, "You're not my Princess, your Highness, since I'm not part of your people. I'm your bodyguard and that's it. My job is to protect you, not to entertain you. I'm flattered, but no, I'm not going to kiss you. Besides...my squad and I aren't known for always following orders."

Your arms folded over your chest, surprised but also impressed by how he stood up to you. No one had ever dared to defy you in such a way…and you found it intriguing. "You are a bold one," you commented. Then you smirked and challenged him, "Mark my words: I'll get you to kiss me eventually before your time here is through."

He snickered, amused, and said back, "Don't get your hopes up, Princess."

A few days later, the rest of the Bad Batch were sent to the other planet as liaisons between you and the other planet's nobility. Things with the peace agreements seemed to be drawing nearer to a close. However, they were in need of some aid due to a disaster that had struck and, as a further sign of your willingness to make peace, you offered to send supplies and whatever aid they required. The Bad Batch were going to help in the relief process along with some of your advisors and soldiers while you and Hunter remained behind. It was unclear how long things would take, but the Clones were willing to help how they could and do what needed to be done.

"The people will be grateful for these supplies," Hunter commented to you.

"It's the right thing to do as a sign of good faith to those who were once our enemies," you replied. Your hands fidgeted a bit nervously. "I just hope it's enough."

Hunter could sense that you were a little on edge, which was a first. At least within the few days he'd gotten to know you, at least. You usually were brimming with confidence and self-assurance that it almost caught him by surprise when he felt your concern.

"There's no need to be anxious, my lady," he assured you. "I have no doubt it'll be enough. This is an extra step in showing how serious you are about bringing peace between the two planets, which is something you've worked hard for."

You turned and mustered a small smile for him. "I appreciate the support, Sergeant."

"Just part of my job, your Highness," he said with a bow of his head.

"Ah, so you're just supporting me because you're my bodyguard and you're just telling me what I want to hear?" you questioned curiously.

Keeping his eyes on you, he stated back, "If there's one thing you should know about me: I'm straightforward when it comes to missions. I say what needs to be said, not what people want to hear. What I told you is true: what you're doing is enough and the people you're helping will see your efforts in making peace and be grateful. You're doing what's right and it won't go unnoticed. I'm sure of it."

You couldn't help but straighten up slightly and you blinked, suddenly at a loss for words. You had expected him to be like everyone else and just say what he thought you wanted him to say, but his response was the opposite. He genuinely meant what he'd said and once again, you found yourself fascinated with this outspoken Clone. He seemed to be softening up towards you as of the last couple days and this seemed to prove you'd been right in thinking so.

However, you simply cleared your throat and declared back, "Your candor is duly noted...and you have my thanks for your assuring words, as well." You shyly averted your eyes for a quick second, but then acted like it was nothing.

Hunter once again noticed…and grinned in amusement.

Weeks passed while the Bad Batch continued to help with the relief effort on the other planet. They were assisting in rebuilding homes and structures that had been lost and ensuring supplies were being received.

In those weeks, you and Hunter had grown closer…much closer than you ever anticipated.

You had plenty of time alone together outside of your meetings with your councilors and other royal delegates who met with you for various other reasons. In the time you spent with him, you found out more about him and his brothers. He told you of the missions he'd been on with them and different stories, both funny and intriguing, about them. He offered you advice on how to handle the final proceedings for the peace summit you were now preparing for in days to come, which meant the nobles would be coming to your home--escorted by Clone Force 99--to officially sign the treaty. It was thanks to his advice that you were able to reach the final agreement and you were incredibly grateful to him. Apart from that, Hunter had also asked you questions about your own life and he seemed sincere in wanting to know more about you. It was refreshing to have such genuine attention like this from someone and not just because you were the Princess and they felt like they had to.

The moment that stood out the most in your mind was when, while taking a walk together through your favorite flower gardens, you'd asked Hunter about how he's so skilled with his vibroblade and he offered to show you. He'd shown you how he twirled it about with his hand and then had you try. You tried a couple times and dropped it and then on the third try, you thought you were starting to get it, but then it caught on one of your fingers and ended up slicing your hand. Hunter had been quick to get some bandages from his pack and offered to clean your hand for you. The way he held your hand was so gentle for someone as strong as him and he tended to your hand so delicately, like you were made of glass. It almost seemed like your hand fit perfectly in his.

"There you go, my lady," he stated as he finished with your hand.

"Please…call me by my name when it's just us," you pleaded with a small grin.

As you gazed at him, you had never noticed how even more handsome he was when he smiled kindly at you or the way the light from your chamber window caught just right on his eyes, bringing out the gold undertone to his brown irises…which caused your breath to catch faintly and your heart began racing. You knew of his enhanced senses and regretted your reaction immediately because surely, he had to have felt it. However, he did not pull away from you nor did he avert his gaze. In fact, he seemed to grasp your hand a bit tighter and the distance between you two was growing smaller, your name leaving his lips in a whisper. Your heart sped up even more, having never felt such a rush of emotion before.

However, he hadn't gotten much closer when he suddenly stopped and backed away, saying he would leave you alone and that he needed to touch base with his squad on their departure. Before you could stop him, he left the gardens. You mentally cursed yourself, realizing that you now actually had real feelings for him and those exact feelings were betraying you. You had probably screwed up everything when you'd first met anyway when you'd ordered him to kiss you and he wouldn't. He said he'd never kiss you and for you to not get your hopes up, so why would that change now? You two were at least friends, but it could never be anything more anyway. What mess had you gotten yourself into?

Before you knew it, the day of the summit arrived and the royals and delegates from the second planet had arrived. You'd greeted them pleasantly at the landing platform and Hunter was pleased to see his brothers again after almost a month apart. Citizens from your kingdom were gathered all throughout the streets to witness the broadcast of the treaty signing. The Bad Batch and the rest of your security were going to be spread out around the platform from which you'd be broadcasting as well as in neighboring towers, keeping an eye out for any potential assassins or insurgents wishing you harm. Hunter would be standing right behind you and his presence there gave you all the comfort and courage you'd need to proceed. The King from the other planet said a few words to the crowd first and then it was your turn. You spoke proudly and with conviction at how overjoyed you were to have finally made it this far with your soon-to-be allies. However, not far into your speech, you heard Hunter call out for you to get down and just as you did, a shot rang out and a chunk of the pulpit in front of you was blasted off. Hunter shielded you with his body, calling out to other guards to protect the other nobles as he withdrew his blaster and fired a few times in the direction of the blaster shot. You could see around the side of the pulpit the Clone they called Crosshair grappling with someone else who had a sniper rifle and then Tech came in to help apprehend him. Lucky for you, it was just the one; Hunter got word over his comm from the others that the man was acting alone and that it was safe to continue with the proceedings.

Hunter took your shaking shoulders and told you in a soothing voice, "It's all right. The threat's been dealt with. You're safe now, Princess." You were so caught up in the shock of nearly being shot that it seemed you didn't hear him, so he gently cupped your face and quietly said your name so no one else would hear, which snapped you back to reality. His forehead connected with yours as he told you again, "I'm here, you're safe." As your rapid breathing slowed, he came back and looked you directly in the eyes. "There's nothing to fear now. Now, finish what you started and secure the peace you always wanted."

His encouragement was enough to bring you back to yourself and you were determined now more than ever to finalize the peace accord you'd worked so hard for. He helped you up to your feet and you resumed your position at the pulpit, finishing your speech like nothing had happened to show the people of both planets your resolve to see this process through. In minutes, the King's signature was added to the agreement, followed by your own and the deed was done. Peace had reached and your two planets were now allies. As cheers and applause erupted from the crowds, you couldn't help but look over your shoulder at Hunter and smile with giddy joy. He smiled warmly back at you and in that moment, you knew for sure that it was now too late to turn back.

You had fallen in love with your bodyguard.

That night, there was a celebration over the new alliance with plenty of music, food, drinks and merriment. However, after all the excitement from before, you found yourself growing weary after only over an hour or so and wished to retire for the night, so Hunter escorted you back to your chambers.

After he closed the door behind you, you told him, "Thank you for saving my life today."

Bowing his head, he said back, "Good thing Crosshair had spotted the man and alerted me just before they took the shot. Things could've turned out differently if he hadn't."

"Indeed." Moving further into the room, you then asked him, a feeling of solemnity beginning to grow within you at anticipating his answer, "Now that the peace proceedings are over, when…when will you leave?"

You heard him reply behind you, "In the morning."

That's what you'd been afraid of. You'd be losing your beloved Sergeant so soon and you found you hated that more than you ever thought you would. "I see," you simply replied, your voice low.

"You sound disappointed," he said.

Bringing yourself around to face him, you replied, trying to keep yourself together, "Well…I am. I've enjoyed your company over the past month. It'll be a shame to see you go."

"Sadly, that was the mission: to help you see the peace process through and then report back to Coruscant," he informed you.

"Right…," you said dejectedly and hanging your head, seeing he still only viewed all this as just part of the mission.

Then you heard him ask, "Are you going to miss me?"

Lifting your eyes up again, you gazed at him with both sadness and fondness. You had not switched on any lights in your room and the only light there was from the moon right outside, covering Hunter in a soft blue glow.

"More than you know," you admitted.

His head tilted slightly, almost prompting you to continue. You weren't sure of what you could say to properly convey how much you would miss him or how you felt about him. However, his own gaze almost seemed to mirror your own and you almost thought that maybe he felt the same things towards you.

There was only one way to find out.

Taking a step forward, you said, "Kiss me, Hunter." You saw a brief hesitation from him and you added, "I'm not ordering you this time…I'm asking you…just as someone who's madly in love with you…please."

Hunter gazed at you in awe at hearing such a heartfelt plea from you, taking in the ethereal, angelic image of your form being illuminated by the soft moonlight behind you and your bright eyes looking upon him with true, real love. In the beginning, he'd had no intention of ever giving in to kissing you, not with how arrogant you'd been about it.

But now…that was the only he thing wanted more than anything in the galaxy.

Slowly, he came over to you, stopping directly in front you. His hand came up and he traced his fingers along the contour of your cheek as he whispered your name like a prayer, his eyes seemingly gazing into your very soul. Then he laid his hand on your cheek, closed the gap between you and kissed you ever so softly. You'd imagined what it would be like to kiss him many a time, yet somehow, the way he kissed you now defied all your expectations. He wrapped his arms around you and held you against him as you laid one hand on his armored chest and the other on his cheek, deepening your kiss.

For a brief moment, his lips parted from yours and he touched his forehead to yours. Then he said to you, "I love you so much, my Princess."

Before you could respond, his mouth returned to yours in a kiss much deeper and more passionate than the last, nearly causing your legs to buckle beneath you. They certainly would have had he not been holding you in his strong arms, an embrace safer than anything you'd ever known. You knew with all your heart that, no matter what the future brought for you, you would be his and he would be yours for the rest of time. Even if you never saw him again and ended up in a royal marriage of some kind later in life, a part of your heart would always remain with Hunter.

You pulled back for a moment and requested with heavy breath, "Please…stay with me tonight. Let me have this one night with you before we part. I want to know just once how it would feel to be loved by you and to sleep in the safety of your arms."

Hunter grinned and pressed a kiss to your brow. "As my lady wishes," he replied as he took your hand and led you over to your bed, where many exchanges of love, both in word and in deed, were given between you two throughout the night.

By the time you woke the next morning, your Sergeant was already gone.

Although, there was a datapad on the pillow next to you as well as a small, long box. You took up the datapad and found there was a note typed out for you.

I know I left without saying goodbye and I'm sorry. I knew it would be hard for us both. I need you to know that this past month with you made me the happiest I've ever felt in my life. I guess you won…you got me to kiss you after all.

The gifts in the box are for you to remember me by and always keep me close. I had some extra help with one of them. Keep practicing with the vibroblade. I have no doubt you'll get it eventually.

I know I said I'm not always good at following orders…but I would follow yours at any time. I'll forever be yours to command. I hope we'll see each other again someday.

All my love, my Princess,

Hunter

A tear had come to your eye at reading the note he'd left you and you turned your attention to the box. You removed the lid and found two things inside: Hunter's vibroblade and one of his bandanas.

You pulled out the knife and gave it a quick twirl between your fingers before setting it down. Then you took out the bandana, holding the soft fabric in your hands and running your thumb over the skull when you realized there was something on the opposite side. You turned it over and you nearly cried again, holding the bandana to your heart. On the other side were four words stitched in Aurebesh that you knew you'd cherish forever.

My Princess, my love.

Clone x Reader Bingo 2023

#star wars the bad batch #the bad batch #bad batch hunter #sergeant hunter #hunter x reader #cfb2023

[itsthestutterforme]

Our Special Night (Aemond Targaryen x black!reader)

Summary: You and Aemond are recently betrothed, but you needed to finalize the betrothal on your consummation night.

Notes: GIF is not mine, mistakes are my own, PURE filth, read at your own risk, sexual themes (oral sex, p in v penetration, fingering, exhibitionism, overstimulation), possessive Aemond, dom!Aemond

**

It was consummation night and you were beyond nervous. Aemond is a man of few words, which meant you had to read more into his body language and mannerisms. You didn’t know what to expect. The two of you rarely talk about the little things like our favorite food. Talk about our.. sexual experiences never came up.

The first time you met Aemond was different from your other suitors to say the least and you remember it well.

You sat in the banquet room for breakfast with your best friend Rose and your mother, Queen Camilla Chrystalla of the Reach Kingdom.

“I don’t understand what the gossip about Targaryen men. The way I see it, they are just as meek as the others-“ you trailed off when Aemond and Aegon entered the room. You and Rose stood from your chairs when the kingsman introduces the guests. “We present to you Prince Aemond Targaryen, first of his name, rider to the largest dragon in the world. And Prince Aegon, second of his name, heir to the Iron Throne.”

You bowed to the princes, your eyes fell to Aemond as you straightened your back. You waited for the princes to sit down before you sat down and Rose followed suit. You took a few seconds to take him in. The scar peeking from his eye patch intrigued you more than scared you.

His leather, pine green vest accentuated his broad shoulders, smaller waist and pale skin. But what drew your attention his wide, confident gate and his face looked like the gods sculpted it themselves. The intense gaze from his single eye didn’t help.

You broke eye contact when Rose nudged you. “What, did he have you in a trance?” She snorts. “Hm?” “Gods be good, he has, hasn’t he? And he was only in our kingdom for a day,” “Shhh,”

Come the weeks end, was your betrothal. Much to your dismay, the celebration was massive. You never liked attention. If you could help it, you would be at your favorite waterfall, Vieques, laying on the soft grass as you read your books.

Now came the most embarrassing moments of the entire betrothal process. The council remain in the room with you and Aemond have sex, solidifying your union. The council was already in the room when you and Aemond walked in. He walked in first, guiding you to the bed.

You sat on the edge of the bed, watching as he unbuttoned his leather vest and tugged off his undershirt. Your breathes became heavy when you eyes settled on his toned abdomen, rigid lines defining his pecks and abdominal muscles. Scars and scratches littering his arms presented themselves when he caged you in between them.

He leans in close but not to the point of touching. He wanted you to close to space between you, wanting you to set the pace of the consummation. Truth was, you’ve laid with a man before, on your eighteenth birthday. The man did everything whilst you just laid there, trying to keep quiet. It was pleasurable at times, but you never orgasmed.

And now here you were, your doe eyes looking up at him nervously. “It’s okay,” he says softly, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. Similar to the kiss he gave on the day of your wedding, soft and warm. And it left as soon as it came.

You followed his lips to deepen the kiss, your lips moving in sync with his slowly. Leaning on your back, he soon follows you and bunches your dress at your waist without breaking the kiss. You pulled away to ask, “Do you need me to remove my clothes?” “No,”

He watched your brows knit together in confusion and he leans in to whisper, “I don’t like others looking at what is mine, Princess.” He kisses you again before suctioning on the base of your neck. A soft moan left you at the sensation of his soft, plump lips kissing your exposed skin. He does this for a few paces before trying something different.

Dipping his hand between your legs, running the tips of his finger along your slit. Your hands grip his bicep at his advances. “Kiss me,” he complies, humming at the softness of your lips on his. You gasped when he rubbed slow, hard circles on your bundle of nerves.

Your eyes fluttered closed when he kissed from your jawline down your neck and to your breasts. He unravels your corset with one hand, not slowing his advances on your clit. Your stomach tenses as you gently roll your hips into his hand.

He pulled down your corset enough for one of your breasts to fall out. He wraps his mouth around you nipple and sucked on it until your back was arching. “M-my Prince,” “Aemond,” he correct before resuming his advances. The coil in your stomach was growing and your hips quickened until your orgasm washed over you.

A breath hitched in your throat, your hands desperately trying to push him off of you to alleviate the warmth overtaking your body. “Fuck,” you whimpered when you’re finally able to breathe. You made eye contact with one of the councilman while you were still dazed from the orgasm.

You covered your chest from his eyes and Aemond noticed your body tense under his touch. He looks up at the group in the corner. “Leave us,” “But my Prince, you haven’t officially consummated-“ “Trust me when I say it will be done within the hour. Now leave us, I won’t say it again.”

The council men filed out of the room and alerted the guards to not allowed anyone to disturb you. “Are you alright?” You nodded, slowly pulling your arms away from your chest. He resumes kissing your neck, sliding his hips in between yours. “Has anyone touched you like this?” He circles your nipple with the tip of his tongue.

“No,” you moaned, your hand fell to the back of his head. “Do you want me to do it again?” You nod and he pulls away from you. “Speak,” “Yes,” “Good girl,” he rubs hard circles on your clit before testing a finger inside of you. You weren’t aware your eyes were closed until he said, “Open your eyes. I want to see your face when I do this,”

Your walls expand around his two fingers, your body surging forward when he curls them into a sensitive spot and your mouth fell open in bliss. “You look so pretty when you come, do you know that?” He whispers into your ear, sinking his fingers in the same spot.

“Please,” “Please what?” “Fuck me,” “As you wish,” he mutters into your neck, he unravels the rest of your dress and corset. You sat up to pull your dress down your legs and he pulled your under garment gown over your head so you were completely bare to him.

And that didn’t make you nervous in the slightest. He kicked his pants off and your gaze fell to his dick. Fuck he was twice the size of the man you laid with, but not as thick, and his felt like it was splitting you open. “I..” “Do you trust me?” “I do,” “Good,” he settled back in between your legs, trailing the tip along your folds.

He widens your legs and kissed down your neck when he slowly slides inside of you. The pressure made you wince and you dug your nails into his back, making him groan softly. “Tell me when to move,” you kissed him warmly, your hands combing through his thick, silver hair.

He waited until you took a deep breath and nodded to shallow his thrusts into you. He gripped the sheets next to you, practicing restraint. You scratched at his back when he bottoms out entirely before thrusting in slow, deep thrusts.

The bed shook with the intensity of his thrusts and a low whine left your throat. He gathers you in his arms and pulls you into his lap with his knees sinking into the bed. He wraps an arm around your back, you move your hips up and down on him while he thrusts up into you.

His thrusts grew faster and his free hand rubs your clit once again. You moaned loudly as your second orgasm ascended in your stomach. “A-Aemond,” you gripped his shoulders when your orgasm ripped through you quicker than the first. Your clenching sent him over the edge, he finished inside of you.

His lips parted by heavy breaths, gently dropping you on the bed and slowly pulling out of you. He reached over to hand you a glass of water and you took a few sips. “What.. was that?” You asked, laying on your back. “How do you mean?” His soft baritone voice felt heavenly.

“You’re very stoic and stone faced with everything else. But come consummation night, and you’re giving praises and lingering kisses.” “Did you not like it?” “I- well I didn’t say that,” “So you did like it,” you laid on your side to face him whereas he laid on his back with his hand tucked behind his head.

You rested a hand on his chest before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I thoroughly enjoyed it,” “Then what are you trying to say?” “I.. like when you touch me intimately,” you explained. “You’re saying you throughly enjoy when I give you affection?” “Yes, I do,” “I’ll keep that in mind,” he watched as laid your chin on his chest, sending him a warm smile.

**

Your body was mellowed with sleep until you felt an odd pressure between your legs. You grumbled a bit and went to flip over on your stomach when you noticed a weight holding you in place.

“What?” You rubbed your eyes and opened your eyes to see Aemond’s head settled between your legs. “Aemond, what are you doing?” “Having breakfast,” he says, massaging your folds with the tip of his tongue.

Him making eye contact as he kitten licking your clit was enough to make you cum at the sight. A groan left your lips, your head falling back into the pillows. But it shot back up when you heard a hard knocking. Your eyes widened when Aemond wasn’t stopping his movements. “Aemond, what are you doing?” You whisper.

He spreads your folds with his thumb and sucks at the skin under the hood. Your body shook when you attempt to keep your moan at bay. “Princess?” The guard says. “Y-yes,” “The Queen is expecting you in the banquet hall,” he announces. “Very well. T-tell her I’ll be there soon.” “Oh fuck.” You clapped a hand over your mouth when you realized how loud you moaned.

“Yes, Princess.” You heard his foot steps descend from the room. “My Gods, now they’ll think I’m a whore,” he alternatives from kitten licking your bundle of nerves and circling it with the tip of his tongue. It made you feel so dirty how much you were enjoying the wet sounds of him licking you from the inside out.

When the heat was starting to get too much, you pushed at his head for him to stop. He grumbled in annoyance but didn’t pull away. “Aemond, please.” You whimpered, turning your body away from him and moving yourself to the headboard.

Tears formed in your eyes when he followed you to the headboard, trapping you until you came with a sob. He licks up yours juices in broad licks. He continued to lick you until you came again and he fucked you for good measure afterwards.

“What was the lesson?” He asks calmly while the two of you walked into the banquet well passed the time you promised. Your legs trembled with every step you took and he peers down at you as he waited for your answer. “Never push you away,” “And?” “Take whatever you give me,” “Mm, good. Don’t let it happen again,” he stays, motioning you to walk into the hall first.

“What is the meaning for your tardiness, Y/N? Are you feeling ill?” Your mother asks. “My apologies your Grace. We slept through the guard’s announcement.” You gave you and your father a kiss before finding your seat. Aegon looks at you with an amused smile and you avoid his gaze. You and Aemond sat next to each other, with his brother and your best friend Rose on either side of you.

“How was consummation?” Aegon asked. You were grateful that your parents and the hand were caught up in their own conversations so they couldn’t hear yours. “That bad, huh?” Rose states. “Or that good,” Aegon comments.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and you reached for a string of grapes. “So good that they continued it in the morning,” Rose added. “Did you make her cry, brother? Her eyes look red,” you rested your hands in your face, wanting to disappear and Aemond tuts at you.

You met his gaze when he held your chin in between his pointer finger and his thumb. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he pressed two a quick pecks to your lips and links his hand with yours. “That’s enough talk about consummation,”

#black!reader #aemond targaryen x black reader #aemond targaryen #hotd

[sgt-morgan]

Making a home 🖤

Summary: The Mandalorians are rebuilding their home world, and you and Din are an integral part of the efforts. Now it’s time to move your relationship to the next level

Warnings: AFAB and Female identifying reader. Mostly just fluff tho, nothing to crazy here.

A/N: So, this was a labor of love from my obsession with Sci-fi. Mostly the leadership structure and world building came from sources such as Ender’s Game and its subsequent sequels. I love the idea that when it comes to rebuilding something important, like creating a society. Leaders who aren’t afraid to throw themselves into every aspect of the process are the ones most likely to succeed, and I think that Din is the perfect choice for this. He’s seen Mandalorian society at its most vulnerable, and still upheld and believed in its creed, and now he’s the one who gets to put it back together. idk, I just think he’s neat. 🥺

Mando Masterlist

You were laying in the Mandalorian’s bunk next to Grogu. Was it weird that you were sleeping in his bunk? No. You were always in his space. You were in his opinion, an overly affectionate person. When you first started traveling with him, he noticed with your friends, you were constantly hugging, constantly holding hands, constantly fussing with clothing. It was just within your nature. You would fuss at the baby, stroking his petal ears, snuggling him close to you any time the option was available, fussing with his tan robe and making sure it wasn’t too long, resting your forehead against his while he babbled at you, staring into his big brown eyes. It was cute. You were also affectionate with the big scary Beskar covered heathen right from the beginning. You held his hand, arm, pinky, elbow, whatever, with no trace of fear or hesitation. You were constantly attached to him. At first, this made him very uncomfortable,then your relentless need for contact became a necessity. The calm your presence brought, the soft feel of your hand in his, the way you practically glued yourself to his hip when your arms weren’t free. In the days before Din got so used to you touching him constantly, you would lean against his side almost aggressively until one of his arms rested on your hip, or lower back, or around your shoulders. He didn’t get it, but who was he to complain. If in exchange for your cooperation, care, and that bright smile that lit up the darkest of rooms, you only asked for him to be near to you, why would he ever deny you? It’s the easiest trade he’s ever made if he’s entirely honest, he’s just glad that it was that simple.

Now though, he was asking a lot of you. He was Mand’alor. King of a desolate kingdom of warriors, that had finally gathered ability and the strength to rebuild, and they were a tough crowd. He was going to have to rebuild them, and he wasn’t so sure he was the best of choices to be the builder, but the has the dark saber he supposed, so it was him or death, and he didn’t plan on going anywhere.

He was currently working on the Mandalore restoration project with you, Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, Cara Dune, Paz Vizla, and Greef Karga. Their motto? ‘No Kriffing Civil Wars.’ At current, rebuilding meant taking his new found Clan, and traveling the planet settling different clans and establishments into their own homesteads. It meant building settlements, establishing governments, planting crops. With the now desert climate of the planet, a lot of this was centered around taking old settlements and making them habitable again, making the once grand domed cities habitable or at the very least finding creative ways to redistribute usable resources, water being the main problem. You were instrumental in this cause, you would scout resources, build homesteads, help negotiate treaties, plant crops, watch children, do whatever you could, and the people of this world were quickly starting to realize that their king found an excellent queen, even if she wasn’t a Mando herself. They respected their leaders to be certain, Din could be found just as easily establishing leadership with Paz and Boba, as he could be found keeping the peace with Fennec and Karga, as he could be found alongside the men and women who would inhabit these cities, building homes or repairing ships. You were just as willing to get down in the muck with them, you were most often found with Grogu strapped to your back, helping wherever needed. It was a deeply satisfying sight for Din, as much as it was a reassuring one for his people, and slowly but surely in your travels, his people fell in love with your willingness to embrace struggle.

What’s funny is, your touchy nature really did well with the often stuffy and formal Mandalorians as well. This race of live fast, die young, warriors had been forced into a more sedentary society since they had been scattered amongst the stars. All were invited, and in some places they were ridged, Beskar clad, societies like the children of the Watch, where there was no casual helmet removal. Others were of Bo Katan’s nature, removal not being seen as such a sin, the way of the Mandalorian practiced just as diligently, but without as much insistence on armory removal protocols. Din and his ramshackle group of world builders were learning that if this planet was to survive, these people survive, a more fluid look at the creed would need to be adopted. It was at your suggestion he took Boba Fett as a second in command. There was a man who kept the code, but was not your typical Mandalorian. He was casual with his armor and his assets, and with his years of leadership under his belt, he was well suited to the work, and it was apparent in his every move. This partnership seemed to work, people accepted that for their way of life to survive, the creed would need to be upheld in a way that suited the progress made in their society. As these cities and clans filled in the gaps of the planet, the true nature of what Mandalorian society had become, became clearer. There were younglings, and foundlings, and Mandalorians with Mandalorian spouses and non Mandalorian spouses, and Natural born mandalorians and mandalorians who had adopted the creed, and Din saw that your being a perceived outsider worked wonders in places such as these. You were courting a Mandalorian who strictly adhered to the code, and you were not a Mandalorian yourself. You spoke Mando’a, you were a buir, you were for all intents and purposes a follower of he creed, and surprisingly Mandalorians of all kinds took to you easily. He could often find you bumping shoulders with older Mandalorians, battle hardened warriors who weren’t the playful type, easily laughing with you about something or another, as often as he could find you with newer and more relaxed Mandalorians whose lives lived in hiding had made them a more accepting bunch. It stunned him that no matter who you were around, a gentle embrace, a pat on the shoulder, a hand shake, all your simple physical gestures resonated with people.

He suspected your easy acceptance mostly had to do with the way you treated the children. They adored you, constantly gathering around your feet and following you place to place. You always drew a crowd of the little ade, wether they wanted to play with Grogu, or wether they liked the way you so easily gathered them into your arms, he couldn’t say. However, if he were to guess, the way you so easily kissed wounds, wiped tears, gave hugs, gave snacks, acted as a natural magnet. You loved children as well as any Mandalorian did. You could be found with children more often than adults most days, multiple ad’ika dangling from your arms or clutching to your back. You would playfully groan and huff, carrying them along with you as you went about your buissness. You sang songs, played games, broke up scuffles. You would share your food, breaking off pieces for any small child who expressed interest. Just yesterday, you were eating some fried thing one of the people gave you, a little girl eyes it and you brake off a bit of it, blowing on it softly to ensure it wasn’t too hot and popped it into her mouth with a smile, feeding her as if she were your own. She squealed in delight, and Grogu huffed, indignant that his mother would share with another child. You rolled your eyes playfully, broke the food in two halves, and blew them carefully. Once cooled you handed one half to Grogu, still carefully strapped to your back, and gave the other to the girl. Then you sat and talked to them both until they were finished, you wiped both their mouths with your skirts. The girl rubbed her nose with yours, and then with Grogu, and gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek before running off with your son to play. It was precious. That was the day he connected the dots. People watched you more diligently when you were with the children, as if testing to see what you would do when presented with a random child, and you always passed. It was heartwarming, and your easy going nature always seemed to win them over.

In all this rebuilding, it was now coming upon time where Mandalore needed to reestablish itself as its own kingdom. It was time to present his clan as the new rulers of this planet. In essence, he was building a royal family, and to do this, it was pertinent that you become his wife. It was well past time now he supposed, the elders on every place they visited always asked him when he would “gotal’ur gar riddur.” Make you a wife. He knew you’d be willing, but what about this whole royalty thing? He had yet to ask wether it was something you wanted. You were clearly well suited to the task, but would you be willing to make that sacrifice? He knew this was coming, the moment he would have to ask you to jump off this cliff with him. It was a steep ask. So, what would your price be? Would it be peace? Space? Freedom? Would your price be to be free of him and his foundling? His son? Would your price for him being a leader, be your separation? Merciful heavens he hopes not. You were headed now to your new home, but if you were to ask it, once you arrived, you would leave in this little ship you’d diligently built into a home, and he would… rebuild. Maker he hopes you stay. He peeks into the bed, and sees you there with his ad, his son. His child you so diligently cared for as your own, even in sleep. You were doing it now, Grogu must have gotten cold, because there he was curled into your side, wrapped in your blanket as well as his own. You had pulled on one of Din’s shirts now as well, but he could see by the way you curled in on the little green bundle of energy, you were seeking the warmth the kid provided without much regard for your own comfort. He huffed a laugh, and pulled a spare blanket from your bunk. You probably forgot it was even there, it having been months since last you needed it, because now when you slept, you were usually tangled up in his blankets, sharing his warmth. He smiled under his helmet at this revelation, and turned back to his little aliit, his family. You breathed softly and one of your hands rested under the ad’ik, his cheek nestled into your palm, his tiny hands were fisted in your sleeve to keep you close as possible. He watched as the child nuzzled down further into you in sleep, his face a momentary grimace, until he scented your perfume and his worries melted. The baby huffed a sigh lightly, and his small snores resumed. How fond he was of you, how much he depended on your presence, kriff, they both do. Why must this be so difficult? It’s not as if he’s actually asking you to jump off a cliff, he was asking you to help run a planet… Nope, still nerve wracking.

“Din?” Kriff it all, he didn’t mean to wake you. You rubbed a hand over

Your tired eyes and squinted at him from the light outside the bunk that was still on.

“Sorry to wake you cyar’ika.” He sighed, pulling your blanket up around your neck. You caught his hand as he went to pull away and began to pull him into the bunk with you. He was thankful he had removed all but his helmet before coming to settle.

“No apologies nessecary my love, I was wondering when you’d come to bed.” You yawned, fondly stroking a finger over his knuckles while he reached to shut the lights off. Once off, he slips out of his shoes, then removed his helmet. The hiss of the seal being broken is always such a terrifying sound, he often found himself spooked even when nobody was around. It’s silly, he knows. Especially because you and the child are the only two people in the world who are technically allowed to look at him, or you will be once he asks you one terrifying question.

“Sorry cyar'ika, I’m here now.” He mutters, nuzzling into your chest with a grunt. You huff a laugh through your nose and smile. He feels the way you tangle your fingers in his hair, relishes in the soft and sweet contact. He turns his face into your palm and he feels how your curious fingers carefully mark out each of his features. He grins, he finds it funny how well your hands know what your eyes have never seen, he can’t wait for you to see him, he can’t wait to gaze into your eyes that always held so much love without the barrier of his visor in the way. To return that loving gaze with his own. He remembers the first time he officially removed his helmet in your presence. It was your birthday. The second one he’d spent with you, the first he’d spent courting you. He remembered tying a blindfold over your eyes and you giggling.

“What are you doing big guy? You gonna take off that helmet and kiss me?” He almost tripped over thin air, because yeah, that’s exactly what this was. You heard the hiss of his helmet seal and gasped, taking that perfect opportunity, he sealed his mouth to yours with ferocity. When you separated, he was amused by the way your hands flapped around excitedly before finally resting on his cheeks. Then the appendages fluttered about excitedly over his features before coming to rest again on his face. You sucked in a deep breath as if to calm yourself and he shook his head with a grin.

“What is it Cyar’ika?” He chuckled, twisting his head to kiss your fingertips.

“I’m just so excited.” You squealed quietly, then timidly your fingers began to dance over his features. Small delicate hands tracing the definition of his eyes, his nose. Giggling at the faint tickle of hair on his upper lip. Your hands were most fascinated by his mouth, your grin growing wider every time his kiss would catch your wrists, or palms, or fingers. “Best gift ever. Oh I can just tell you’re so handsome!” You sighed contentedly, finally letting his face rest in your palm while your other hand softly stroked his cheek. You could feel his muscles flex under your hands as he smiled. It was a perfect moment, now he’s hoping this one will be too.

“What are you thinking about my love?”’you sigh, turning to fully wrap your arms around his neck.

“Come with me a minute. Leave the kid, he’ll be fine.” You sighed and carefully detangled yourself from Grogu’s grasp, and rolled into Din’s awaiting arms. He’s already put his helmet back on, and you smile, bumping your head against his Beskar helmet with a smile as he lifts you out of the bunk. He tried to set you back down and you grumble, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist.

“No!” You whine, “The floors are too cold.” Din chuckled and shook his head, rewrapping his arms under your legs.

“All that farming, that peace keeping, and work, and you’re still a Princess.” He chuckles.

“I’m no princess.” You scoff, biting the patch of uncovered skin at his shoulder.

“No, I suppose not, but would you want to be a queen?” You tensed up in his arms, then grasping his shoulders, you dropped down to one foot, then the other. Then your piercing gaze met his, and he swore you could see straight through his armor to his very soul. It was uncanny.

“What are you saying metal man?” Your voice was barely a whisper, but it echoed in his helmet, startling around his ribs causing him to shiver.

“What I’m saying, is I want you to marry me.” He whispers back, wrapping his arms firmly around your waist. There was a long pause then, and it was as if all the time you spent together flashed be fore his eyes.

Memories of you, caring so fondly for his foundling, holding him like his mother used to hold him. Watching fondly as you held the little green child close to your chest with all the care in the world, he never asked you to love him so deeply, it just seemed to pour from your every action. There were memories of you working so diligently on whatever task you set your mind to, solving problems he didn’t even know he had without batting an eye. He pictures you under the dash on the Razor crest, stripping and reworking the controls to be smoother so landings wouldn’t be so bumpy. Reworking the lighting in the hull to be a bit brighter so he wasn’t constantly straining his eyes to see through his dark visor. Polishing his Beskar and tweaking his vambraces to make sure everything ran smoothly. Even more memories flood to mind. Memories of nights holding you as he woke from nightmares of home, of the terrible things he’d done, of loosing this little family he’d come to love so dearly. Memories of the day you met, two bounty hunters against AT-STs, you dropping the bounty on his son immediately when you saw he was just a tiny green boy. You so easily forwent your life, and fit yourself like a puzzle piece into his. All he had done since meeting you, was ask you to make sacrifices, you’d sacrificed your peace on Naboo, your lucrative career as a bounty hunter (very lucrative as you often remind him), your reputation with the guild. Effectively, you sacrificed your safety for his Foundling. You didn’t have to do it, but you did. If the positions were reversed would he have done the same? He didn’t know, but that’s why he needed you. Every time he thought to give up, there you were pushing him to be a better man. A better Mandalorian. Who better to be queen than you?

“Of course I’ll marry you.” He drops to his knees and clutches at your middle, burying his head in your stomach.

“Thank you cyar’ika.” He sighs and all the tension drips away from his body like the leftover pools of a bad dream. “Thank you.”

“Of course! We’ll do it as soon as we get-“ you stop at his giggle and you give one of your own as he stands and presses his helmet to your head. “What is it?”

“We can get married right now.” He chuckles.

“What!?” You gasp, pulling your head back with both hands pressed to the sides of his helmet.

“Yeah, right now. We’re Mandalorians remember? Gotta go fast or you might die.” he chuckles.

“Ok!” You’re positively giddy, “what do we do?” Your eyes look at him with all the love a gaze could hold and he’s so happy.

“Repeats after me.” Vows spoken in a blur, your cheeks hurt from smiling.

"Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."—translating as

"We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors."

Once the Vows were spoken, you stood there, arm in arm, foreheads pressed together, basking in each others happiness.

“Really? That’s it?” You giggle excitedly, hands covering your mouth as if you’ve told him some sort of fantastic secret.

“Yeah! We’re as married as Mandalorians can get! Now that that’s done, here’s the best part.” You gasped as his hands swiftly removed his helmet, while yours flew to cover your eyes with a smack!

“Dank Farik Djarin, what are you-“ you started but he slowly pulled your hands from your eyes.

“Mesh’la were married, you can look now! It’s okay!” He chuckled and you opened your eyes.

“Oh Maker!” You sighed dreamily and he beamed. “Those big brown eyes, the hair, that smile? I’m literally the luckiest woman alive.” Then, you smashed your lips together unceremoniously. It was the best kiss of his life. You were even more beautiful without the barrier in the way, and now he could hold you, and kiss you, and be with you, no Beskar required. It was the happiest day of his life.

“Just wait till we tell the others.” You squealed and he laughed.

“Can’t wait Mesh’la , can’t wait till they find out you’re all mine.”

The next day his rag-tag group of advisors all gathered in the new capitol. They were all sitting around, drinking (those who removed their helmets or didn’t wear them that is) and telling stories.

“So I’ve decided that that grumpy little girl? Her face isn’t just like that. She’s a little Bantha that one.” You chuckled, telling them about a child you’d recently taken a liking to at the Covert. “This group of older kids who just got their helms right, they teased her that morning at Breakfast, and I told them to stop. They went swimming, and that little girl is as stubborn as a Mudhorn, and twice as crafty. While they were swimming, she and her little gang of kids not old enough to start training gathered all their helmets, and carried them off.” You chuckled and leaned further into the group, making sure that most of your body was still pressed against his. He loved when you were like this, so care free and happy, at peace with the little clan you had cobbled together. So comfortable with this little family you’d created. They all hang onto your every word, fondness was evident in their every feature. “I let them go to watch and see what happens, cause that little womp rat has spirit I tell yah! So, she takes all these helmets and plants flowers in every single one. Fills em up with dirt and plants, and leaves them all in a row outside the covert for the boys to find.” He laughs along with the rest at the tale, each of them surely thinking as he is, that perhaps his little family might have just found another addition in this little trouble maker. “So eventually, the older kids all get out and they go to find their shiny new helms all filled with dirt and flowers. So, someone naturally comes and gets Paz, and the Armorer and I. So we all stand there, trying not to laugh, and the armorer says; ‘What is the meaning of this, Twyla?’ And she just says; ‘Sorry ma’am, but I mistook these helmets for buckets, because who would ever give these empty headed Nerf Herders helmets anyway!’ Oh god, I thought I had busted a lung!” All around the room his little family spluttered and laughed and he’d never felt more content.

“Wow, I love that kid.” Bobba Fett chuckled. “So anything else new with you?” He asked casually, and you shot Din a side eyed glance. Welp, no time like the present.

“Nah, mostly just peace keeping and introductions.” He sighed, pulling you close. You nodded and curled into him, hiding your grin in his shoulder so as not to give it away. The others nodded and settled again, but before anyone moved on in the conversation, Din put his handto his Beskar covered chin, and snapped his fingers. “Oh, that’s a lie! There was something else about this trip, we got married!” There was a moment of silence about the room, and you couldn’t help but laugh, the look on all their faces was comical.

“No WAY!” Paz was the first to break and once the damn had broken, the joy in the room was palpable. There was celebrating to be done by all, and he was glad that it was you they were celebrating. You were officially his, and he wouldn’t trade you for the world.

#the mandalorian #din djarin fanfiction #beloved din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #din djarin x original character #din djarin #mandalorian x you #mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x y/n #mando fic #the mandolorian #mando x you #mando #mando x y/n #mando fanfiction #mando x reader

[mxtxfanatic]

What was your thought process while reading Xie Lian's white no face arc? Were you terrified yet silently cheering him on (*morality disappears*) like I was, or did you have a more understandable reaction to it😮‍💨 It's a really complicated arc in my opinion, his entire personality did a twist to a degree that doesn't exist in the mundane world😂, so I'd be curious to know people's general reaction to it.

If by his “white no face arc” you mean the brief moment in book 4 when he loses it, then no, I was not cheering him on 😭

Xie Lian’s breakdown is categorically different than the other mxtx protags or LIs who have experienced a similar forsaking by general society (and who I would’ve cheered on had they done their own massacres), as rather than lashing out that the corrupt people who have caused his suffering, he almost lashes out at the people who were also being used as pawns by the person who destroyed his life, as well. Now, circumstances different from the other mxtx focal characters lead to why Xie Lian initially chooses to attack Yong’an rather than, say, the gods who intentionally refused to offer aid and then siphoned off his followers while he fought to protect his kingdom, but this just shows more why I can’t in any way view Xie Lian’s breakdown as an empowering or vindictive moment, only as him truly losing all sense of self. For a scary moment, Xie Lian almost commits to abandoning his morality to be a villain, and it’s a terrible thing to read through for how much I love his character. The only other equivalent I can think of is if post-Qiongqi Path ambush, the Wen remnants chose to turn Wei Wuxian in to the Jin, causing Wei Wuxian to attempt to massacre them in retaliation (or some ooc shit).

Book 4 has always been the hardest thing for me to read in the novel. It makes me hate all the secondary characters that appear in that section and just makes my heart bleed for everything Xie Lian had to shoulder alone because not even his closest friends and family considered him human enough to need support, protection, and reassurance. This is also why I love how this section precedes and is followed by Hua Cheng showing his dogged support for Xie Lian, like the narrative is structurally wrapping Xie Lian’s worst moments into Hua Cheng’s protection so that he can finally be safe enough to heal.

#tgcf asks #anon #yeah there’s nothing to… enjoy from that arc…

[urbosas-gf]

Zelda Dating HCs

Anon: Hi! Could I request some gender neutral hcs about dating Botw Zelda please? This version of the character has suffered do much man I just want her to be happy. Thanks for reading this!

Meant to post this sooner, sorry!! I thought I hit post 💔 But anyways, this is a bit long. Hope you enjoy!! :)

✨ You were Zelda’s assistant, someone knowledgeable in magic and history. Although you didn’t know how to perform magic yourself, the king trusted you in helping his daughter with unlocking her powers. As the day of Ganon’s awakening comes closer, the desperation steadily increases.

✨ Much like Link, Zelda wasn’t very fond of you. You didn’t blame her. To have the fate of an entire kingdom and neighboring villages lie on your shoulders would be difficult to bear. So the two of you didn’t talk much unless you were guiding her to unlocking her powers. But you wanted to bond with her. You wanted to at least take a bit of pressure off of her. But was that even possible?

✨ You overheard an argument with Zelda and her father. It’s not like you were trying to eavesdrop, you just came at the wrong time. But listening to the king forbid Zelda from any interactions of the ancient Sheikah relics made your heart ache. Her love for ancient technology was obvious. And to take it away? You understood the king’s reason, but it was upsetting nonetheless.

✨ You don’t get to look over and direct the people working with the guardians, however, you get to ask about the process and detail about everything. Had you been any other person, the Sheikah would most likely just tell you to shoo or give you a weird look. But you’re practically a historian! It would be strange if you didn’t show a hint of fascination with these relics.

✨ You wrote down everything they told you, then headed to Zelda’s room. You assumed she was in there. After the (long) walk, you knocked softly on her door and waited until she gave you permission to enter. You looked down at your journal, flipping to the pages about the Sheikah technology. You hoped it would cheer the princess up, even if it was slightly.

You pushed open the door, looking over at the princess who sat on the side of her bed. Her back faced you and her shoulders were slumped. She was fumbling with something, you couldn’t see what. Quietly breathing in, you walked inside and brought a small smile to your face.

“Princess, I brought something special for you,” you announced. Zelda perked up and turned slightly, a curious look appeared on her face.

“For me?”

You nodded, gripping the book slightly tighter. Sitting besides her, you opened it up and turned some pages. “It’s not too special, I think, but I’m sure you’d appreciate it.” Once you found the right page, you gave her your journal. She set aside the guardian part she had in her hands to take a look at your notes. Her eyes lit up once she realized it was details about the ancient Sheikah technology.

“Oh my,” she gasped, reading what you wrote down. “These discoveries would certainly be useful… hm… fascinating!” Your smile got wider as you listened to her mumble and hum. After she finished reading, she grinned as she raised her head to look at you.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? Despite the age of these relics, they certainly are so advanced! There’s so much more we can learn. Don’t you think they can be useful against Ganon?”

She chattered about the possibilities and uses from the technology that was dug up. You listened closely, as you’ve never gotten to hear the princess speak so much and so joyfully. But she suddenly paused and her smile fell. Zelda reread the notes you wrote down and told you, “My father.. He told me to focus on unlocking my powers and… I cannot have any sort of interaction with the discoveries being made.”

You already knew this, but didn’t tell her. You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and said, “I can update you whenever they made a new discovery or any progress. You deserve happiness, princess. I believe that this stress will only block you from unlocking your sealing powers. While you could unlock it during a difficult situation… this situation wouldn’t be helpful. Use these notes as… motivation! Yeah!”

Zelda mulled over your words for a moment with a soft smile. “You certainly are a prodigy, aren’t you?”

“I’m nothing special, princess.”

“...Call me Zelda.”

Your eyes widened, but you nodded. “Of course, Zelda.”

She closed your journal and returned it to you. “I.. I apologized for being so cold towards you. I feel as though… you’re the only one who truly has faith in me.”

“I could never doubt you, Zelda. Now, let’s get some fresh air! I’ll tell the king we’re working on awakening your powers.”

✨ Neither of you can show any sort of physical affection. The king would certainly disapprove. Not to mention all the rumors that would spread in the castle…

✨ The only people who know are Link and the other champions, and they support you fully! Urbosa does (threaten) tell you to never break her heart. She’s been through enough already and everyone knows that well. Daruk and Mipha happily congratulate the two of you (and Mipha asks for dating/confession advice). And while Revali pretends to disapprove and judge, he supports your relationship in his own way.

✨ Your dates take place in the field, away from the pressure of the king. Link stays nearby but gives the two of you plenty of privacy. He stands by to make sure no monster ruins your day or to give you a heads up if someone is coming.

✨ I think Zelda would be a bit touch-starved or something. Mostly because she lost her mother at a young age and had to mature quickly. Affection would be strange and awkward for her at first, but once she warms up to it, she’s very loving!!

✨ I think her love language would be quality time and physical affection. She wants to spend as much time as she can with you and be close to you as possible.

#botw x reader #zelda x reader #tloz x reader #breath of the wild x reader #botw #botw zelda #botw zelda x reader

[science-lings]

If you’re still doing the prompt thing, how about pre calamity Urbosa realizing that Zelda might not be the only one suffering from self worth issues ( she’s such a good mom, I can’t resist)

Ever since Link had assisted Zelda up from the sand after the Yiga incident, she was glued to side. The fright of her near assassination left her quiet and in shock, gripping his arm with a strength he could only compare to that of a moblin.

The whole trek from Kara Kara Bazaar to Gerudo Town was filled with her muttering apologies, saying sorry for avoiding him, for running away from him, for yelling at him. It seemed to finally click for her why he was even there in the first place.

While he was glad that she had made the realization, he hated that it had happened this way, that the outspoken brave girl he had come to know was hidden behind a shaking weak voice. She could barely manage the facade of normality, forcing her face to rest in a polite expression but no matter what she did, he could see how she failed to tame her rapid breaths and feel her racing heartbeat through how tightly she held onto him.

Urbosa was waiting just outside the walls of the town, after the hero had confided in her that his charge had left and went to search the desert for her. She could tell something was wrong the moment she could identify their silhouettes on the horizon.

"What happened?" The chieftain worried after a quick speedwalk two the duo.

"Yiga, She's okay," Link replied simply, but it provided enough information for now.

Even with Urbosa's hand on her back, Zelda's hold on her guard refused to lessen. For some reason, she suddenly took more comfort in his presence than she took even with her godmother.

Link hesitated when they reached the gates of the town, hyperaware of the spear-wielding guards within impaling distance. He wasn't allowed in town, at least not without some nonmalicious disguising. But when he attempted to hand off his traumatized charge to Urbosa, the princess's grip only got tighter. Her wide eyes frantically looked at him with a sudden fresh wave of fear.

"I'm not allowed in, your highness," He reasoned in the same tone of voice that he used when soothing his steed, though that part was a little accidental. Through Zelda's silence, she easily conveyed her discontent with the arrangement, sending a near-tearful pleading look to Urbosa.

"Well... It wouldn't be the first time we've made an exception to the rule for the hero," She considered before turning to the guards of the town, "Let it be known that the princess's personal knight be allowed in, so long as he doesn't cause any problems."

"Of course Lady Urbosa." the nearest one nodded, though she wasn't too worried as it wasn't Link's first time in Gerudo Town, even disguised he kept the master sword on his back which made him easy to identify.

"Come, let's get you two inside."

******

The princess rested her head against his shoulder, her iron hold finally relaxing for the first time since the incident. Even now when he could easily slip out of her grasp, but he decided not to, even if it would be far more comfortable to do so.

If he was truly honest with himself, it wasn't out of obligation that he stayed, or even the slight worry that she would wake if he moved.

Though he couldn't show it, the event had left him shaken too. The Yiga's blade had gotten far too close and he was nearly too late. If he had decided to check a different set of ruins first, if he had not recovered from nearly tripping in the sand, if he'd even struggled to weave through the merchants at the bazaar, the princess, Zelda, would've bled out onto the sand.

Now that it was all over and he'd had some time to process what had happened, it really started to hit him just how lucky he had been. How close he was to failing his most important responsibility, to dooming the entire kingdom, and proving everyone who doubted him right.

It shouldn't have been so hard to keep track of one person and keep them safe, he should've been better. He had to be better. It shouldn't be so easy for fools like the Yiga to take them by surprise.

He wondered if it had been a close enough call to warrant some kind of punishment, or if he had been successful enough to be given some hollow congratulations as if everyone wasn't just waiting for him to mess up.

He was the chosen hero, he had to be perfect at all times. Everyone depended on him being perfect and the pressure constantly threatened to suffocate him.

Worst of all, no one seemed to care, or even notice. Perhaps that was a testament to how strong his mask was, or how isolated he was from everyone he spent time with. He was cursed to remain that way, alone and silent and even if the princess were to warm up to him, he wouldn't dare get his hopes up in the thought that she might become someone he could confide in. She already had more than enough on her plate.

"Kid? You okay?" Urbosa's voice nearly startled him from his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed her in the doorway. What if she had been a Yiga? He had to be more vigilant.

Then he registered the question, it immidiately confused him. He wasn't the one that got attacked, he was clearly unhurt, why would he not be okay?

With this logic in mind, he nodded. The chief raised an unbelieving scarlet eyebrow.

"You two are very similar you know, I was surprised to find out that you didn't get along, but I guess I should've expected it. Instead of seeing your place being alongside hers, she could only see how her failures compared to your successes, but you never blamed her for that, did you?" Urbosa sat on Zelda's bed, looking at the sleeping princess with a certain fondness in her eyes.

"She has it worse than I do," Link muttered.

"That doesn't mean your problems don't matter. Even if you were right, it's ridiculous to compare the two as if you aren't two different people who deal with the stressors that come with carrying the weight of the fate of the kingdom on your collective shoulders differently. We're all fighting the same battle, so why are you so convinced that you must fight it alone?"

"I don't know, I guess... if people realize that I'm not as brave and strong and as perfect as they think, they'll lose hope. I don't... take pride in how important and heroic I am, I think I grew out of it." He didn't know why it was so easy to release the thoughts that have spiraled in his mind for years to the first person who seemed to acknowledge them.

Even though Urbosa was the strong terrifying leader of her people and a thundering presence, he had seen how she treated Zelda. He had stuffed away a foreign kind of jealousy at the sight of their closeness, knowing that it was too late for him to forge anything similar.

Maybe he was desperate, he wanted to be heard, he wanted to be understood, he wanted to be given a grain of sympathy after being consumed by the expectations of every single person who knew his name for so long. He just wanted someone to care.

"You're more than your destiny little knight. Your life will not end when the calamity is defeated, and you will have a whole new horizon of opportunity at your fingertips. You will be able to disappear into the woods if that's what you would like, though I would like to extend an offering. You will always have a home here, if you decide you can handle the dessert," She smiled as her words passed through him.

He had never really considered what would happen after, if he expected there would even be an after. His whole life had been centered around the calamity for so long that he forgot that there was an entire world outside of that.

He didn't have to be a knight when the greatest monster had fallen. He wasn't chained to a legacy in the same way that Zelda was. And if he was able to conquer the king of demons, why would he let any other King choose his path?

"Thanks, I'll consider it." He managed a slight upturn at the corners of his lips.

"Get some sleep, don't worry, I won't tell the King." She stood, eyeing the completely unnecessary contact between him and the slumbering princess. Suddenly the evidence of a smile disappeared from his cheeks and was replaced with a distinct dusting of pink.

At least his expression made Urbosa laugh because the insinuation was certainly not something he was enjoying unless he was truly honest with himself.

For a minute he stayed, enjoying the reminder that he wasn't alone, but eventually, he snuck out of her grasp. It was too early on to push his luck.

Send me prompts?

#ask andromeda #writing prompt #botw #zelink #its not the focus but its greatly implied #botw link #botw urbosa #urbosa #this one ended up kinda long whoops #and on desktop its not easy to make a read more so I apologize for people who want to scroll through

[dotieeee]

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 9

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

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

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

non-consensual kissing and touching

touch-starved Morpheus should be a warning of its own

mentions of gore

mentions of drug abuse

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 9: Courtships with Deadlines

5 Days Until Deadline

You drape a thick, velvet blanket over your shoulders before you go out to the balcony and watch the night give birth to one of the most beautiful sunrises any creature could ever see in their lifetime.

But something has changed: not the beauty of the sunset, but the way you feel about it. You had for so many times looked at it with wonder in your eyes. Now, all it reminds you of is another day in the Kingdom with him: the all-powerful being who had woven your strings of fate and tied it with himself, not caring whether he suffocated you in the process. After he left the room, you never got a wink of sleep; you never even dared close your eyes, fearing he might suddenly pop into your room and force you once more into a vulnerable position. Not wanting to remember your master’s visit last night, you rub your face with your hands to force these thoughts away, suddenly wanting a cup or two of steaming hot coffee with loads of milk dumped in them.

Your mind wanders to the Sleep Doctor you had left in his dreams after a quick, impulsive kiss. Despite liking to take a lot of naps, he actually is an early riser, as you had discovered in your short time in the Waking with him. By now, he should be having the same milky cup of coffee, scrolling through the daily science bulletin on his iPad and muttering to himself as he read the articles, while his favorite cinnamon buns you had popped in the oven happily baked away.

You don’t want to admit it, but you sorely miss Ollie and his cheerful demeanor.

The sun has fully risen in the realm when Morwyn knocks on your door, bringing you a tray of breakfast consisting of your favorite pastries and coffee, prepared just the way you like it. You’re not particularly hungry, but after spotting a cinnamon roll, you contentedly dig in, wondering if Ollie had the same. You share the rest of the generous fare with her and use the opportunity to catch up with her after all these years. When the meal is over, she draws you a bath, then excuses herself, mumbling about preparing your outfit to “his liking.” You ignore the last thing she said, focusing instead on the sea of bubbles that relaxed every tense muscle in your body, savoring every time you have without the Dream Lord hounding your time and attention. Once you’ve dried yourself, you step out of the bathroom in a silken robe, thinking of donning your usual dress. To your surprise and consternation, you find Morwyn in the middle of admiring a blood-red, long-sleeved gown of the finest silk satin, decorated with tiny chunks of ruby around the waist. It’s a dress worthy of a princess.

Except you’re no princess.

“Morwyn, please tell me I’m not wearing that,” You say as you walk to the closet and yank the doors open, expecting to find the clothes you had seen the other day and hoping you get to choose the simplest garb you could find – the closet is empty.

Great. You can’t even choose your own clothes, now.

Unconsciously, you take a leaf after Ollie’s book and rub the back of your head.

“M’lady,” Morwyn calls, her voice slightly trembling, “The Dream King had instructed me to empty your closet and give you this,” she says holding the luxurious dress out. “He says he’d like to see you in it when you meet him later.”

Releasing a defeated sigh, you nod quietly at her and put it on, letting her fasten the ribbon at the back in front of the mirror. The dress feels stifling, and not just because it hugged every curve on your body.

Morwyn gives you a wide, encouraging smile, complimenting, “You look beautiful, m’lady.”

You look just as he intended, you tell yourself. You try to return the smile, hoping it didn’t come out as a constipated grimace.

“Thank you, Morwyn. Has Matthew come around, yet?” The Dream Lord’s words last night were anything but comforting, but he mentioned having his raven come to tell you when it’s time. But for what, exactly?

“Not yet, m’lady. Are you…okay? You look a little pale,” says Morwyn worriedly with her hand on her chin. “If you’d like, I can apply some rouge on your cheeks, doll you up even more?” she innocently suggests, muttering something about “a date” and “looking pretty for the King.”

You shake your head adamantly at the suggestion. No, you don’t want that spurring him on. Wanting to be alone, you say your ‘thank you’ to her and bid her farewell before proceeding to the uppermost part of the palace where your master had said he’ll meet you, hoping for at least a few moments of peace by yourself watching the view from up above.

Thankfully, the balcony is void of the Endless the moment you arrive, giving you time alone to admire the Dreaming Realm in a panoramic view you have never seen before. Your eyes can spot endless, unfamiliar territory and islands you’ve never been in from miles and miles away. Down below you could see the town square, busy as ever, with its tiny residents going about their morning tasks; everything in the Dreaming, right before your eyes – and all you could think of is Ollie.

Due to the events that followed your return, you had not had the opportunity to visit him in his dreams since you left. Your Dream Lord had just complicated things further by forbidding you to step out of his kingdom, making it even more difficult to sneak out and check Ollie's progress. How is he doing, you wonder? Is he sleeping too much due to his eagerness to find you a safe sanctuary away from your master? While you selfishly want him to continue doing so until he finds a solution, you don't want to keep him away from the Waking and living his own life - after all, he has his own dreams to fulfill, and you wouldn’t want to inconvenience him any further.

You need to help him find a way to free you so he can get his own life back, and you need to move faster.

With that in mind, you make a mental promise to visit his dreams as soon as the Dream King has gone away to attend to his duties.

A loud caw, followed by a shout of 'Lady Mera,' interrupts you from your musings. Matthew, the new raven, lands on the balcony railing, flapping his wings before tucking them in.

"I wish you'd stop calling me that," you chide him with a pout.

"I can't, you know how the boss is. He's a stickler to his rules," Matthew replies with a tilt of his head.

"Maybe you can drop the fancy title when he's not around, at least?" you suggest with an innocent smile, patting his head several times.

Leaning into your petting, he acquiesces, "Oh, alright. I never thought I'd enjoy being pet as a bird, you know. Why are you early, by the way? I was supposed to come get you as soon as he says so. Eager for the date, much?"

"This isn't a date," you're quick to correct him with a flat tone.

"Uh, it kind of is? I told him yesterday he needed to spend more time with you so he doesn't uh, intimidate you."

Might be too late for that, you note inwardly.

"You shouldn't have," you find yourself commenting with some truth behind your jesting tone, which earns a nervous chuckle from the raven.

"No, but, seriously though, aren't you and the boss, uh...a thing? You see, I've been meaning to ask, but he's mum about, you know,” he starts, obvious in his tone he’s hesitant to approach the matter. “Except he did tell me you’re his consort. Are you and him –”

“No,” you sharply reply, not liking his line of questioning. “Not yet, anyway,” you mumble.

“Ah, so that’s what the date is for, then,” he says, nodding to himself. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Yeah, sure. It wouldn’t hurt.”

“Do you… like it? Him, I mean?”

You bite your lip, not expecting Matthew’s question – for him, it was a telling gesture. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. How come you don’t tell him?”

Chuckling humourlessly at his question, you answer, “We’re talking about your boss, here, Matthew. To him, any dissent warrants either an unmaking, a banishment, or a lifetime of nightmares: you take your pick.”

“Tell me about it! Did you know, he had an ex that he sent to – uh-oh .”

‘What is it?” you ask, recognizing the slight alarm in his tone.

“He’s calling for me, I think. I have to go. See you, my La – I mean, Mera!”

Before you could say your farewell, Matthew goes flying off into the horizon and dips below into one of the palace rooms and out of your line of sight. Just as he disappears, your hairs stand on end and a cold feeling washes over you like icy water being dumped over your head.

He’s here, the Voice warns.

From behind you, arms snake up and wrap around your waist, pulling you closer until your back hits a taut chest. Your entire body goes rigid and your breathing turns shallow as you feel a warm breath tickle your earlobe, followed by a whisper:

“You’re early, my dream.”

“I just wanted to admire the view –” your sentence is cut off with your breath hitching; your Dream Lord just dragged his nose down the side of your neck before planting a heated, wet kiss at the base – his lips linger, then suckles on the skin, holding you tighter to himself to keep you from struggling. From your ruby-bedazzled waist, he drags his left hand slowly upwards across your chest, grasping your throat gently and angling your head so his mouth could get better access to the base of your throat, intent on leaving small, angry welts. You close your eyes with a whimper to endure this, repeating Ollie’s name over and over in your head.

“And yet these views are no match to what you offer me in this dress. You are a sight to behold.”

The low rumble of his voice makes you close your eyes tighter, biting your lip to prevent yourself from making any more noise that could excite him further. He seems undeterred by your silence – he spins you around, and, pushing you against the balcony railing, he captures your mouth with his in a fiery lip lock. His hand nestles on the small of your back, while the other grips the back of your neck as his insistent tongue pries your lips apart and tastes your hot cavern. You had tried your best to hold it all in, but treacherous tears escape the corner of your eyes. Your master seems to feel this, for he surprisingly lightens the kiss, his lips stilling over your swollen ones. You turn your head away to will the tears away, afraid that he might see this as another sign of your defiance.

Instead, he plants a gentle kiss on your temple, before saying softly,  “I admit my past courtship of you was hurried and rough. I worry that I may have pushed you further away in my haste. I should like to court you once more. This time, I will endeavor to be more patient and earn your affections.”

He kisses your exposed cheek. Sniffling, you open your eyes, but your head remains turned away from his, refusing to meet his gaze. You feel him pull his head away in your silence.

“Will you not look me in the eyes, little dream? Do you fear me?”  he asks with a slight edge to his voice, rubbing his thumb back and forth on the skin beneath your ear in an attempt to comfort you.

Is that remorse you detect? It couldn’t be, you remark, but you couldn’t help but meet his blue eyes to try to gauge what he’s truly feeling. Not wanting to give him a reason to further punish you, you say, “My apologies, my Lord, I am just coming to terms still, with…with what you’re asking of me.”

Yet, his darkened gaze tells you that what you just said to try and placate him was a huge mistake.

“What I’m ‘asking?’”  he narrows his eyes on you, his voice laced with impatience. “ I’m afraid I’m not ‘asking’ this of you, my Mera. This is the function to which I, your King, have assigned you. This courtship is for your sake alone, that you may grow accustomed to it. We will be united. I will give you five days, after which, we will consummate our bond.”

His final sentence sparks terror in the pit of your stomach. He’s giving you a deadline. Stifling the urge to retch, you swallow thickly before you try to beg, “Sir, I –”

“Enough. I will not have my will questioned,”  he interrupts you as he tightens his grip on the back of your neck.  “You will be here, in the palace, at all times. You will await my call and come to me when I summon you. I do not mean to be harsh, my dream, but time is of the essence – I was cruelly robbed of mine with you, after all. I shall amend that once I have dealt with the damage left by the Vortex. Is that understood?”

“My Lord, please –”

“Is. That. Understood?”  he repeats his question through gritted teeth, clearly unwilling to listen to any more of your pleas.

You look into his hardened, now-silver eyes, attempting to look for any trace of empathy at the situation he’s forcing you into. There isn’t any.  Wanting to end your argument so you could be relieved from his presence, you respond with a whisper, “Yes, my Lord.”

Your creator releases a hum of satisfaction as he places a lingering kiss on your cheek, before praising,  “That’s a good dream.”

You feel immense relief the moment he lets you go and steps away. You expect him to vanish with a swirl of his sand, but he lingers, standing a few feet before you with his hands behind his back.

“I will call you for tea tomorrow afternoon.”

You could only nod quietly. He takes a small amount of sand from his pouch, presumably to leave, but a sudden question crosses your mind inspired by his previous words. “My Lord, the Vortex…is she…?” you blurt out, slightly hesitating.

“Dead? Yes.”

You bow your head, not knowing how to process the fact. Rose Walker seemed so young and she had so many dreams she wanted to fulfill that you felt them, despite your fleeting interaction with her. You feel your heart clench at the thought of her life being cut short.

“Do not grieve of Unity Kincaid, my dream. Hers is a noble yet necessary sacrifice for the sake of the Dreaming, and of her great-granddaughter, Rose.”

“Unity?” you ask, confused. Wasn’t Rose the Vortex? “Rose is alive?”

Shut up, shut up, NOW, comes the Voice’s sudden warning.

“Yes, she is. You know of her?”  He asks, stepping forward, suspicion marring his dark features.

You shake your head, realizing your error; if he finds out you had met with her, he’ll discover your little tryst in the Waking, and if he does, he’ll surely uncover the connection which led to it. That was a stupid, stupid thing to say, you inwardly scold yourself.

“I heard from Lucienne, sir,” you say, mentally crossing your fingers that he doesn’t press any further.

Putting on a blank expression, the Dream King purses his lips, as he releases the sand in his palm.

“I will call for you tomorrow. Do not be late.”

As soon as his form is engulfed in his sand and he vanishes, you make a wild run for the Library. Hidden in one, or two, of those books, are incriminating passages that detail your meeting, and subsequent stay with Ollie, and once the Dream King sees those pages, you could definitely say goodbye to your plans of staying in Ollie’s dreams for good. If he even so much as gets a whiff of your affections of anyone else besides him, there’s no telling what he won’t do to you, and more importantly, to Ollie.

You push the heavy doors to the library quietly to avoid drawing attention to yourself. As noiselessly as you can, you dash through the shelves, skimming through the books in a mad rush. To your alarm, there was no ‘Oliver Chapman,’ not in the ‘O’ or even in the ‘C’ wings. Cursing mentally, you wonder: has Lucienne read them? Worse, has your Dream Lord gotten ahold of them? Are they hiding it from you, knowing you’d try to tamper with them? Letting out a huff of frustration, you sit on the floor, wondering where else they may have kept Ollie’s books of dreams.

The office, whispers the Voice.

Of course. The Dream Lord has an office in the Library, separate from the rest of the space. Not that he needed it, of course; he just usually asks for books to be brought to his throne room where he normally reads them. But why would the books be kept there?

You try to strain your ears for any signs of Lucienne; thankfully, it looks as if she’s out on an errand, so you sprint in the direction of the Dream Lord’s office.

Located at the farthest end of the Library, you’re panting heavily by the time you get there. You push your ear against the doorframe to listen for any sign of life inside. When you hear nothing, you turn the doorknob and push.

Locked.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. There is only one person – or being, for that matter – that has the key, save for the Dream Lord and his Royal Librarian.

You run out of the Library in search of the said being. You find him tending to your favorite garden in the palace grounds, his hands deep in the dirt, planting more of those accursed red flowers – Mervyn the Pumpkinhead.

The keys, attached to his toolbelt, lie discarded beside him, along with his other gardening tools. You know full well you couldn’t just walk up to him and ask for a key to the boss’s office in the library – or is it that easy?

You don’t really have the luxury of planning an elaborate heist for his set of keys, so it’s now or never. Steeling your resolve, you walk up to where Merv is, opting for a much simpler plan.

“Hello, Merv!” you call as you approach.

He stops digging into the flowerbed and turns to you, giving a mock salute. “Hello, kid! What can I help ya with?”

“I’m looking for Morwyn. Have you seen her?” you ask, hoping to put up a convincing act.

He scratches his pumpkin head and replies, “No, I haven’t. Whatcha need her for?”

“I kind of locked myself out of my room, and I need to get something from there,” you say sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head to make it look believable.

“Uh, I have the key in there somewhere, but I’m in the middle o’ something, see? Why don’t you take ‘em keys instead? It’s the gold one with the tiny ruby at the bow.”

Bingo.

“Really, are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off, continuing his digging on the flowerbed.

 You grab the keys and take off as Merv calls out from behind you, “Give ‘em back, ya hear?”

“Sure thing!”

It takes you a few good minutes to find the key that fit the doorknob. Once you do, you wildly look around you to make sure you weren’t being watched, before you turn the knob and push the door open.

No one has been in the office for quite some time if the dust on the desk in the middle is anything to go about. The room is larger than you expected, and the natural light streaming through the stained glass windows illuminates the numerous towering shelves of books untouched for many years. Wanting to waste no time, you skim through the many bookshelves. They’re thankfully arranged in alphabetical order, so you find an entire shelf dedicated to the name ‘Chapman’ in no time, with Ollie’s name placed at the farthest end.

Curiously, you pick up the book a few places before Ollie’s name first, and with it, you make a startling discovery: the books of dreams on the shelf not only belonged to random ‘Chapmans,’ but to the males in Ollie’s entire lineage. You just picked the book of dreams belonging to Ollie’s great-great-grandfather.

But, why? Why is Ollie’s book of dreams, as well as his male ancestors’, singled out among the infinite number of dreamers?

“Have I told you before that the Chapmans were cursed? Well, the males, at least,”  Ollie’s words from almost a year ago echo in your head.

This isn’t the time to unearth Ollie’s family mystery, though, so you make a mental note to do more research in the future and set those thoughts aside. You carefully leaf through the pages to find the section where you made your appearance – your meeting with him, spanning a year, detailed in twenty-full pages. Setting the book on the floor, you get to work.

Hardbound books were tricky to manipulate, with the pages stitched to a section of the book’s spine, so you use your fingers to remove the stitching of the last twenty pages with care – simply tearing the pages away would leave a sign of the book being tampered with. Once you’re sure there were no traces of your crime, you put the book back in place, and scramble out of the office, locking it behind you. You hand the keys back to Mervyn (“What took you so long, kid? Couldn’t be hard to spot a key with a damn ruby, innit?”) and rush to your room. Barricading yourself inside the bathroom, you set the pages alight with a matchbox you stole from the kitchens before washing the ash away with water.

Look how you’ve turned into a cold-blooded criminal mastermind, you inwardly deadpan.

***

4 Days Until Deadline

Afternoon tea with your Dream Lord isn’t as bad of an experience as you thought it would be.

Matthew had fetched you from your room, and you had followed him to the same balcony you had met him with the morning before. You found your master, already sitting beside a table full of your favorite sweets, drinking tea from his cup. He had stood up to greet you, taking your hand in his and kissing it, before leading you to sit across from him. You both sit in somewhat companionable silence while you munch on a cinnamon bun, with him just sipping his tea and watching you with blue, ever-observant eyes.

Until…

“May I ask a question, my Lord?” you shyly break the stillness, setting down the pastry you’re nibbling back on your plate.

You watch a corner of his mouth turn upwards as he sets his cup on a saucer. “Ask away, my dream.”

“I was wondering,” you say slowly, choosing your words carefully. “If you would allow me to continue forming dreams along with my new…role?”

Just then, you could feel the atmosphere change to one of palpable tension, the small grin vanishing from his face.

Tentatively, you add, “Please?”

“I think not. Your duty is to me, alone,” he declares flatly, his cold stare making you squirm in your seat.

You bite your lip and break eye contact with him.

“It’s what I’ve been doing all my life, your majesty,” you whisper dejectedly.

“And that will change in four days’ time.”

“Will you take away my ability to form dreams, too?”

The Dream King seems to contemplate this. The pause is long, before he responds, his tone slightly softening, “I could never bring myself to take that ability away, my little dream. It is part of who you are. I intend for you to keep it.”

But what good is keeping it if he forbids its use, you ask yourself. Still, you give him a subtle nod and a small ‘thank you’ to end the topic. You leave the cinnamon bun untouched, suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore.

The quiet that follows your conversation becomes heavier, so you’re thankful to Matthew for interrupting, quietly delivering news that you couldn’t quite hear. When your King gets to his feet, you swiftly follow his example out of politeness.

“I’m afraid I must cut our date short, my dream. I have matters to attend to.”

You bow your head in response but he takes your chin in his hands and promptly gives you a single, prolonged kiss on the mouth. You close your eyes until he lets go of you, and bids you to ‘stay here.’

Noticing fine grains of sand in the air, you realize he has transported you to your chambers – you turn to him with a protest bubbling in your throat, but you find that he’s gone, and to your irritation, the door locked from the outside.

***

3 Days Until Deadline

Clear as day, Dream of the Endless recalls his first visit to the first Chapman who had crossed his path many centuries ago.

He had not paid him, or any of the other Chapmans, much attention since he had placed a curse on the males of his lineage (except for that one occasion), a curse that felt righteous and just after a slight he had committed against him and his Realm.

Now, as he faces the dream of his only living descendant, he finds himself wanting very much to place another, more potent curse on Oliver Chapman, the mortal whose embrace now cradles the dream he so deeply cherished and ardently pursued.

Or Oliver’s dream-version of you, more accurately.

Morpheus knows this, but he couldn’t help the bitter jealousy burning in his heart as he watches the mortal lavish the lips of your dream-version with his own. He has not felt the urge to smite anyone for dreaming of his creations so lasciviously in a long time – this is an image of you he’s disrespecting, and he refuses to sit idly while this human corrupts you.

An image of you, he corrects.

With a lazy flick of his fingers, the dream-version of you taking Oliver’s shirt off melts before the human’s eyes. He ensures it’s the most gruesome sight this errant dreamer has ever seen: the dream-Mera’s skin peels off starting from her head down to her feet, followed by her flesh boiling and steaming away in an amalgamation of blood and gore, and with a final flair, he makes her bones disintegrate into dust. Oliver’s screams of horror permeate the dream-space – he couldn’t deny the screams gave him utmost satisfaction.

Dream watches curiously as Oliver attempts vainly to regain lucidity by counting his fingers aloud. It’s a trick that could’ve worked, but curiously, the dream remains volatile in his favor.

Morpheus decides to twist the knife, taunting him,  “You’ve lost control, lucid dreamer.”

The mortal snaps his head in the Endless’ direction, looking confused, possibly wondering why he couldn’t take over the dream. Medication, perhaps? But Morpheus has not the slightest interest in why a lucid dreamer has lost their ability. He is, however, greatly invested in finding out how such a mortal might develop a certain fascination with you.

“Tell me: what is my dream doing in yours?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Oliver replies, growing more confused. “And who the fuck are you talking about?”

In his fury, Dream could feel himself transforming into a nightmarish image he rarely ever shows his dreamers. No one has ever woken up seeing this form of his with their sanity intact, so he tries to rein in this metamorphosis.

“The dream you were defiling,” he spits out, his bellowing voice echoing the dream-space, “Belongs to me. Explain yourself, Oliver Chapman. My patience is waning.”

Oliver rubs his head in frustration. “I don’t know…I don’t remember.” He looks at both his hands, now coated in blood that isn’t his. “Fuck, there’s so much blood… where is she? She’s injured, I need to help her. I just wanna help her, man. I have to find her…”

Dream narrows his eyes at the mumbling man before him, somewhat disappointed that he could no longer extract reliable information from him in such a state. Recognizing that his fun is over, he transports himself with a pinch of his sand back to his Kingdom. He thinks it’s best that he confront the only other being in existence who had the answers he seeks.

***

When Matthew came flying into the balcony of your room, delivering the message that your King has summoned you to the library, your heart leaped to your chest at the suddenness; your little tea date, as the bird has taken to calling it, hadn’t been due until a few hours after midday. You hastened to dress out of your pajamas and rushed to the said meeting place, your heart beating so fast you could hardly breathe. Had he found out, you wondered?

You find your Dream Lord pacing restlessly to and fro near your favourite reading spot. He stills, looking at you with hardened eyes and clenched jaw, seemingly trying to control the fury you could feel emanating from him. It’s a look that was almost enough to curdle your blood.

He doesn’t even wait for you to get close – immediately he’s upon you, cornering you to one of the bookshelves, making you yelp instinctively. He grabs hold of your wrists and pins them above your head as his body covers your own.

“You will tell me everything, my dream, and I might be inclined to spare Oliver Chapman: why is he dreaming of you?”  He growls, his face, inches from yours, contorted in pure rage.

Fighting inwardly to maintain your composure, you respond with another half-truth. “I was injured, my Lord, from a battle I enacted in a dream. I got in his dreams somehow, and he helped me, he nursed me back to health. I stayed there for a while so I could recuperate.”

“Is this the truth, my Mera, or are you keeping anything else from me?”

You wince at the way his grip closes on your wrist further, cutting off the circulation.

“Please, my Lord, you can check for yourself,” you dare meet his eye with your own fearful ones, trying to drive your point.  “The dreamer’s name is Belladonna San Mateo – I reenacted a medieval battle for her. It’s the truth, sir, please…”

He pulls his head away as one of his hands releases your wrist and grasps your chin, so you had nowhere else to look but those silvery swirls of galaxies in his cruel eyes. After a few agonizing moments he dips his head, giving you a warning:

“If I find you in the embrace of any other, mortal or otherwise, I shall personally see to their torment in their waking, their dreaming, and their afterlife.”

When he lets you go, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp of relief, clutching your chest to calm your rapid heartbeat.

“There are matters I must attend to. As such, I must regrettably cancel our meeting for this afternoon,” he says, his face once again the stony mask that spelled no room for negotiation.  “Stay in your chambers. You are dismissed.”

You turn on your heels and dash away from Library, glad to give the place a wide berth. He had met with Ollie, visited him in his dreams, and didn’t like what he saw. You don’t like the sound of your creator potentially bringing harm to your doctor, so a visit may be long overdue, and it has to be soon.

***

2 Days Until Deadline

As discreetly as you can, you take a plunge into the sea of dreams and navigate your way into your doctor’s dreams, praying to the Fates that he’s asleep at the very moment.

Once you land in the space, Ollie greets you with a tight embrace, one which you return with as much enthusiasm. You had missed him terribly and had been worried out of your wits upon learning of his meeting with your Dream King, so when you let go, you make a fuss over him, checking him and his form for any sign of injury.

“Hey, I know you find me irresistible, but I didn’t know you were bold enough to cop a feel,” he jokes, earning him a half-hearted shove and a slap on the bicep from you.

“This is no laughing matter, you idiot!” you chide him with your arms crossed, relieved on the inside that he was unharmed.

In response, he grins coyly from ear to ear. “You were worried about me. I kinda like that,”

Pouting, you say, “Yes, I was bloody worried. I’m sorry I couldn't visit sooner.”

Ollie turns away from you, scratching the back of his head. “No, it’s quite alright,” he mumbles. “I'm sorry, too. I couldn't do much work on the runes the last few days, Mera. I've been, uh... shit, I... don't know how to say this…”

“What’s wrong?” you get right in front of him to press him, worried at his guilty tone.

With the most apologetic expression you’ve seen in him since the dreamcatcher incident, he replies, “It's the sleeping pills. I've been on them and I think they might've hampered my hypnagogia.”

His revelation makes you drop your jaw in surprise. “Wha-fuck, why are you taking them? And how come you've never told me about this?” You grab hold of his arms to demand answers.

With a placating look, he responds, “I swear, I've been taking them sparingly, but I've been needing a lot of sleep because of... you know. But it's okay now, honest! I didn't take them today, and I'm in full control.”

You place your palms on his cheeks, putting on a serious expression. “You have to get off those. I'm being serious, Ollie.”

“I am! I’ll keep it that way, I promise.”

Not letting go of him yet, you look into those gentle, green eyes, trying to detect signs that he may be hiding something.  But this is Ollie, too, you think to yourself. You know him to be bad at keeping secrets. Satisfied with what you saw in his eyes, you let him go, offering a soft apology: “This is my fault. I'm sorry I pushed you into this.”

“No! Hey, no, Mera, you didn’t,” he corrects you with a firm tone. “I've been prescribed these since I was little. You know, the Chapman curse and all that. Oh, and I’ve finally figured out a fitting name for the invention.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“I’ll call it MiraSleep. It’s a sort of, play with your name and the word ‘miracle.’ That’s what you are to me, you know. Everything I do now, I do for you.”

Not knowing what to say to his heartfelt admission, you stare into those forest-green eyes of his, a look of agreement passing between you two. Finally, you flash him a grateful smile, which he returns with his own sheepish grin.

“So, Ollie,” you start with a slightly more cheerful tone, fighting back a blush creeping on your cheeks without much success. “Mind telling me what it was you dreamed about that involved me?”

He breaks into fits of nervous laughter while rubbing the back of his hair. You already know you don’t like what he’s about to say.

“You’ll never believe it if I told you.”

***

You walk back into the palace grounds with high spirits after you visit Ollie’s dreams. He had immensely cheered you up despite his retelling of a rather salacious dream he had engaged with a dream-version you at that moment he lost his lucidity – the dream with which the Dream Lord had walked in on and had taken absolute offense to. He had assured you that the momentary lapse in his dreaming abilities would never happen again, and with that, you’re confident that by your next visit, you could finally stay in there with him without having to worry about being chased after by a certain Endless.

It's this thought that helps you endure your master’s company and his not-so-subtle touches during your morning ‘date’: as soon as the sun had risen in the Realm, he had summoned you through Matthew to accompany him in a morning walk around his Kingdom.

He smugly parades you around the busy town square with your fingers intertwined in his; on occasion, wrapping an arm around your waist as he rubs circles over your clothed skin; at times, even kissing your hand while not breaking heated eye-contact; all these gestures of his affections for the entire Dreaming to see. To the townsfolk, he introduces you as his princess-consort, much to the Dreaming residents’ delight – they had not had a princess-consort to dote on for eons, and so they lavish the both of you with promises of gifts that they are to send to the palace to congratulate their King and to his ‘pretty little dream-bride.’

Just grin and bear with it, as the Voice comments.

Touching as it was, the Dreamfolk’s welcome of you as Dream of the Endless’ new princess-consort breaks your heart even more, knowing that you’ll eventually disappoint them by running away as soon as you have the chance to. Breaking your previously-cheerful outlook further, you walk past the sea of dreams with the thought of never coming back to form the dreams of the mortals forever once you’re free with Ollie.

Before you left his dream at dawn, Ollie had asked you whether you were actually ready to leave your job for good. He knows there was nothing else you loved more than forming dreams for humans and inspiring them. You had never given it much thought before, but your brief stay with him had also made you realize one thing: while you were planning to abandon the role you had loved with all your heart, he had a device that would do the same for millions of other dreamers. While not under your name, the device Ollie had invented would be his and your legacy, and perhaps you could make peace with that. This comment of yours earns you a proud smile from Ollie that rivaled the brightness of the sun – it’s a smile you’re sure you’ve burned into your memory.

***

1 Day Until Deadline

When you wake, you’re greeted with a massive headache – it’s an ominous warning of your days closing in on you. Only one more day until your King’s imposed deadline, and you could only hope Ollie makes a breakthrough with the runes by tomorrow, or all will be lost.

After you had been dressed up by Morwyn, who as usual, gushed over the gown your Dream Lord has selected for you to wear for the day, Matthew delivers the news of your morning activities. According to him, they will consist of morning tea and brunch with his boss in your favourite spot in the Royal Library. When you arrive in the garb he had chosen for you to wear for the day, he gives your red-satin-clad figure an appreciative look before he greets you with a soft kiss on your lips and leads you by the hand to the leather couch you had fallen asleep in so many times.

You engage in light, minimal conversation during tea. You find yourself almost enjoying your time together, discussing your past dreamers with a sense of nostalgia.

That is until an attendant brings a trolley full of books to his side and you inspect the names printed on the books: each containing the name of every dreamer you had visited in his absence.

Perhaps your face had paled when you noticed the books, for he flashes you a small smirk, before assuring you,  “It is only procedure, my little Dream. Lucienne told me that you had insisted on finding me in the dreams of mortals even after it proved fatally dangerous for you. I should like to read of your unwavering loyalty with my own eyes.”

His words only made you fidget in your seat, abandoning the cinnamon swirl you had started to dig into a few moments ago.

Your discomfort does not seem to escape his watchful eyes.  “Unless, you had something to hide from me, my Mera?”

From the rim of your teacup, you smile wanly, sipping your tea before quietly shaking your head. Inside, however, your heart is practically threatening to escape your ribcage, sending bile to your throat and souring your tastebuds.

“I imagine this will occupy the rest of my day. Stay and read with me.”

Having no choice but to comply, you excuse yourself to pick out a book, choosing one you had read from cover to cover so many times in Ollie’s study.

Choosing a book was the easy part; concentrating on the pages proves a lot more of a challenge, especially when you have your master inspecting your work right in front of you. His occasional praise of your handicraft almost always makes you jump on your seat, thinking that anytime, now, he could be going through Ollie’s book of dreams, potentially exposing you. It takes all your energy to remain composed before him lest he notices your odd behaviour and decides to investigate the source of your restlessness further. The day goes on agonizingly slow, but thankfully, he only goes through the first half of the pile on the trolley.

With a loud pouf, he closes the final book shut and places them on top of the growing pile on the coffee table. Getting up to his feet, you copy his movement, inwardly glad for a dismissal and looking forward to your time alone, stewing in your own worries. You brace yourself as he steps closer and takes your chin in his thumb and forefinger before dipping his head downwards to plant an openmouthed kiss on your lips, one that you now know you’re obliged to kiss back. You expect the kiss to be brief, but he apparently has other ideas: he wraps his arms around your body and maneuvers you. You both end up on the couch, with you straddling his lap. As if predicting your actions, one hand grips the back of your neck and the other holds your hip in place, preventing you from getting away.

He drags his lips away from yours to the groove of your neck while his hand pulls the sleeve of your gown downwards to expose more of the flesh he had longed to mark for a long time. You let out a whimper in protest, before softly pleading, “My Lord, please, we’re in the library…”

Against your skin, you feel him chuckle deeply.  “Would my little dream prefer the privacy of her chambers, then?”

He does not wait for your response. Instead, he continues licking and sucking on the exposed skin below your clavicle, dangerously close to your right breast. You let out a startled gasp as you feel his hand go under your gown and start stroking your inner thigh. Your body seems to betray you at that moment: you start feeling heat pooling in your belly, indicating your arousal, no matter how unwilling.

From a short distance, a door in the library creaks open, and a pair of footfalls you recognize start making their way to Lucienne’s desk.

You feel your King let out a growl of displeasure at the disturbance; a second time his librarian has interrupted you – a second time you owe Lucienne one for deterring him from any further actions.

Against your ear, he then whispers,  “Tomorrow could not come any faster, little dream. It will be a union you will remember for eternity.”

With unexpected gentleness, he spins you around and sets you down on the couch beside him, and without a word, walks away as if nothing happened.

You clutch your heart and adjust the sleeves of your dress, willing the tears threatening to spill to go away. Tomorrow, you’ll be gone for good, and well away from him – it’s a small reprieve that allows you to clear your head and quickly lock yourself inside your chambers, holding Ollie’s dreamcatcher like a lifeline.

***

0 Days Until Deadline

My little dream,

Proceed to Fiddler’s Green

…Reads the note that Morwyn delivers to you along with your morning coffee. You hope this visit wouldn’t last long; after this, you had every intention of going back to Ollie’s dream. It’s the day of the deadline your King has given after all, and you’d have no other opportunity to escape if you let this day pass.

Don’t go, the Voice warns in your head; but what choice have you, other than comply? After all, it could just be one of the last commands you’d ever obey from him. Not wanting time wasted, you refuse breakfast and begin the long tread to the heart of the Dreaming, and into Gilbert’s sanctuary.

You had been so close to meeting each other in the Waking, during your stay in Hal’s Bed and Breakfast. It’s perhaps pure luck that your paths did not cross, for you’re not sure how Gilbert would’ve reacted, or what he would’ve revealed to the Dream King once he went back.

After your walk for what seemed like hours, the grassy patch of land full of lush, blooming bushes and thick, tall trees greets you with what feels like an urgent breeze, almost making you stumble.

In your head comes Gilbert’s grave tone: “Mera, what are you still doing here?”

Feigning hurt at his words, you reply, “Hello, Gilbert. Am I no longer welcome in your lands?”

“Why, but of course you are, my dear,”  he amends. “But, given how dire your situation is, I hardly think this is the best time for a leisurely visit.”

“What do you mean, ‘my situation?’” you ask, your brows furrowing in confusion.

His breeze blows more insistently against you, making your dress billow along. “The Dream Lord has come to me about two days ago asking about you and a man called Oliver Chapman.”

Shit.

Every part of your body stills at the news, your heart sinking to your stomach.

“Now, if your relationship is anything as close as he had implied, this mortal is in danger, as are you. He has instructed me just this very morning to keep you here for as long as I could while he deals with this Chapman fellow, but I could not bring myself to keep you in the dark, especially as it sounded like you care much about him.”

Fiddler’s Green was just a diversion, the Voice concludes.

“You must go, Mera,” Gilbert says with another strong gust of wind as if trying to get you running.

Turning back to him one last time, you start, “Thank you, Gilbert –”

“Go!”

You need not be told further. With all the strength you could muster, you run as fast as your legs could carry you, not caring who or what you bumped into or if you tripped. With breakneck speed, you make your way to the sea of dreams, and will yourself to land in the dream of the man you love, your only remaining refuge, hoping against hope you weren’t too late to save him.

Ollie, startled by your sudden appearance, runs to your side at once. You gasp greedily for air, clutching a stitch on your side from all the effort.

“Mera, fuck... are you okay? What’s all this rush?” he asks, holding you by the shoulders to support you.

Tears of relief gather in your eyes as you take his unharmed form. You’re not late; you still had time.

Letting the tears cascade down your cheeks, you break the news to him:

“He’s coming. He’s coming for us.”

Author notes on the Chapter:

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Link to the next chapter

Oh my god this went out of hand!! I'm sure I had mentioned on a tumblr comment that Ollie would only be around for around two chapters, but sorry, things and plot points seemed to have a mind of their own lol. Dream seems to have found them out!! How will their confrontation go?! Aghhhkk

As usual, thank you for sticking with me in this!! Love lots!!!

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Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby@endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 12/19/22

Edit date: 12/19/22

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