#IM FINALLY ONTO KINGS RISING

[prodigalxprince]

me when everyone at Ravenel realized Damianos, prince killer, was their commander and Laurent had given him the fort:

#IM FINALLY ONTO KINGS RISING #EEEEEE #MY FAVORITE BOOK #kings rising #damianos of akielos #king damianos #captive prince #captive prince reread

[atlabeth]

come on back to me - nikolai lantsov

summary: five times you save nikolai and one time he saves you.

a/n: if you've seen my thoughts as i read through siege and storm and ruin and rising then you know that i am deeply in love with nikolai lantsov and since ive finally finished the trilogy i finally feel qualified to write about him lmao. i actually don’t think i’ve written a 5+1 which is crazy so here you go. i wrote this in like 2 days in a spurt of inspiration and im absolutely in love with it, so i hope you all are too!!

title from you’re the one by greta van fleet

wc: 7.3k

warning(s): fem!reader, canon typical violence, siege and storm & ruin and rising book spoilers (i have not watched the show), medical inaccuracies, nikolai's volcra era, hurt/comfort and a happy ending (as usual)

Os Alta

It all happened rather quickly. 

One moment, you were in the infirmary mending a poor soldier’s broken arm. The next, screams were erupting everywhere. 

You and the soldier locked eyes, and you did a final bit of healing on his arm before you nodded at each other and darted off. 

The soldier grabbed his gun and went further into the palace, no doubt to find the royal family, and you adjusted the collar of your kefta before you ran out into the fray. 

Nichevo’ya had surrounded everything, attacking anyone they could find, and their shadowy bodies were like a void’s blight on the land. You knew the sight would be forever burned into your mind.

You knew the Darkling was going to march on Os Alta, that he would have to do it directly to use his shadow soldiers, but this was so much earlier, so much worse than you’d expected. Enforcements were meant to come from Poliznaya. You guessed that was off the table. 

You were fine at fighting—alright with a pistol and better with a dagger—but you were a Healer. You spent more time dealing with the aftermaths of battles, more skilled at setting broken bones and mending bullet wounds than inflicting them. 

Times like these were the ones when you normally questioned your decision to not hone your abilities into a Heartrender, but now you would at least be a dead man either way. Nichevo’ya didn’t exactly have hearts to stop and organs to manipulate. 

You had to get to the other Grisha. You had to make sure the Sun Summoner made it through this attack, even if it meant you wouldn’t. 

You broke into a sprint, trying your best to ignore the crippled and broken bodies in the carnage. Your instincts tugged against you, but you knew there was nothing to be done. If you stopped to help a dead man, you would soon join them. 

You nearly battered into a group of people from your speed and lack of attention, and you reeled to the side seconds before a head-on collision. When you looked up, drawing in ragged breaths in the one second of rest you’d gotten, your eyes widened. 

You were face to face with the royal family. The King, the Queen, and Nikolai Lantsov. The absence was glaring. 

“Grisha,” Nikolai breathed, and he grabbed onto your shoulders like a madman as his fingers ran over the embroidery. He might as well have been one, the way wildfire flickered in his eyes. “You’re a Healer? One of Alina’s?”  

You nodded rapidly. “Are you—” 

“I’m getting them to safety on the Kingfisher,” he cut off, “and she wants me to get that old woman as well.”

“Baghra—?”

“You’re a Healer?” the King interrupted harshly. Your heart stuttered—you’d never been directly addressed by the King, but you supposed circumstances like these called for different standards. 

“Yes,” you nodded. “Are you hurt?” 

“My wife,” he said, and your attention turned to the Queen. Genya’s absence had taken a toll on her, and the shards of glass sticking out of her side weren’t doing her pallid frame any favors. 

“Madraya,” Nikolai whispered, his eyes wide, “I didn’t even notice.” 

“Alexander—” her voice was ragged, her entire appearance pallid— “we’ve much bigger concerns.” 

“Nonsense.” The King’s gaze bore into you. “We have time. Heal her.” 

You screwed your eyes shut, your hands closing into fists for a moment before both opened and you nodded. “Keep an eye out, moi tsarevich,” you huffed, and you moved to the Queen’s side. Nikolai’s head perked up for a moment at your words, but it disappeared just as quickly as he adjusted his grip on his pistol. 

“Of course,” he said wryly. “Not that I don’t trust your work, and not that I don’t trust my abilities, but it would be grand if you could do this quickly.” 

“Working as fast as I can,” you muttered, ignoring the noises the Queen made as you pulled the shards of glass out with little care. Your mentors would be rolling in their graves if they could see you. 

“Vasily is dead, by the way,” Nikolai said, attention focused on the nichevo’ya all around. Thankfully, you’d run into each other in a spot relatively hidden from view. Hopefully it extended to shadow creatures. “I know you were wondering.” 

Your hands faltered for a moment, but it was hardly noticeable as you continued to work. He wasn’t wrong. “I’m so sorry.” 

The Queen choked back a sob, and the King’s face betrayed the slightest bit of emotion. 

“An awful way to go,” Nikolai muttered, more to himself than anything. “But fitting that he brought about his own end.” 

His parents said nothing to your surprise, but you stood up from your knees and nodded at the King and Queen. “She’s healed enough. No internal bleeding, at least.” 

“Healed enough?” the King repeated. “That is not—” 

“It’s the best we can hope for,” Nikolai interrupted sharply. “We’ve already wasted too much time out here.” 

He then nodded, grasping your hands with fierce desperation. “The crown thanks you, darling.” You’d never seen him like this—you’d never seen him fear anything. The Darkling and his creations were a good start. “I thank you, truly.” 

“Just doing my duty,” you assured, and you pulled a small container out of the pocket of your kefta, leftover from your work in the infirmary before it all went to hell, and pressed it into his hand. “She should be alright, but I’ve been slightly rushed. Rub this salve on her wounds when you’re out of danger just to be sure.” 

Nikolai nodded again, slipping it into his own pocket. “Keep our Sun Summoner safe,” he said. “Or else this’ll have all been for nothing.” 

You nodded. “With my life.” 

Nikolai’s eyes met yours, and something unsaid passed between you. Then his hands slipped off of yours, and he continued to herd his parents away from the chaos. You muttered a quick prayer to any Saints that would listen for their safety, and then you head off on your own way. 

2. The Pelican 

You thought either the bones in your hands or the wood was going to crack with how tight you were holding onto the side of the ship. Your heart was still hammering away in your chest—the adrenaline from the battle and Nikolai Lantsov’s sudden appearance and being shot at a thousand different times by a thousand different militiamen still had you quite shaken. 

You knew the sort of chaos you were in for when you made the decision to travel with Alina Starkov rather than stay in the White Cathedral, but you think you hated being in the air like this even more than you hated being trapped underground with those zealots. 

Someone called your name, and you turned to see Adrik a while away with wide eyes. You huffed a sigh as you reluctantly let go and hastened your pace to catch up with him. If he was sent to fetch you, then someone needed healing, and you couldn’t exactly hold off on the one thing you were good at. 

Adrik led you over to a corner of the Pelican where a large portion of your group of Grisha were gathered. Tamar was kneeling next to whoever was injured, one hand splayed above their chest, and you took a deep breath as you forced calmness to wash over your mind. 

“What are we dealing with?” you asked Tamar, but it was clear enough when he spoke up. 

“I’m telling you, it’s fine,” he insisted. “Just a flesh wound.” 

“He was shot,” Tamar said dryly, “and he refuses to accept its severity.” 

“So we meet again,” you said placidly. 

Nikolai seemed to perk up when he saw you, any prior frustration absent from his face as he grinned at you and said your name. “If you’re the Healer here, then I guess I’m not so fine.” 

“Am I ever going to be around you when you’re doing important princely things,” you said as you crouched on the other side of him, Tamar continuing to keep his heart rate steady, “or only when you’re injured?” 

“This is a very important princely thing,” Nikolai said. “I’m showing my soon to be subjects that I’m just like them.” 

“You were shot and you thought you were fine?” You let out a loose sigh and shook your head—it wasn’t worth getting into it. “Keep it steady, Tamar.” 

She nodded, and you reached out to begin unbuttoning his outer coat. He wouldn’t stop shifting around, and it made it infinitely harder. 

“Will you sit still?” you snapped. 

“I am,” Nikolai said. 

“You are not,” you asserted, and you undid the final button on his coat after a struggle, “and you are making this much more difficult.” 

“My apologies,” he said. “Usually women that are taking off my clothes aren’t this angry with me.” 

You scowled, only making his smile grow. 

“You do it yourself if you want to be like that,” you said, letting your hands fall back to your side. “I’m sure the rest of your soldiers will listen to a Healer.” 

“Ah, but none of them bravely threw themselves into danger for you,” Nikolai remarked. “I’m sure that earns me a few points.” 

“Points that you’ve immediately lost by being this difficult with me.” You crossed your arms. “And you did not throw yourself into danger for me—you were in the battle and you got shot.” 

“We came to save you all, and you are a part of it,” Nikolai said. “I’d say I definitely threw myself into danger for you.” 

“You’re impossible.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Will you not even allow a dying man some honor?”

“You are not dying,” you said, “but you will be if you continue talking. Now take off your clothes and stop being so difficult so I can fix this up before you do die.” 

He tutted as he shed his jacket and worked on the rest of his clothing. Princes were apparently fond of multiple layers. “For a Healer, your bedside manner is remarkably poor.”

“Don’t worry,” Nadia piped in, “she’s always been like this.” 

“I have very fond memories of you healing my broken ribs,” Alina said dryly. 

“All of you are still alive,” you said tartly with a glance back at your fellow Grisha, “aren’t you?” 

“I think you made me wish I wasn’t,” Harshaw mused. 

You scowled again and Nikolai laughed. “That bodes very well for me, considering how much I seem to irritate you.” 

“You’re going to be fine,” you grumbled. When you turned back to him, he’d gotten down to his undershirt and unbuttoned it. Blood had spread across the white fabric, but apart from being shot, the wound wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. It’d had the chance to fester for a bit, but with Tamar’s aid it hopefully wouldn’t be a problem.  

You took a deep breath as you placed your hands on his chest—lucky as always, you could sense the bullet missed all his major organs—but Nikolai grimaced before you could even do anything. 

“Are you alright?”

“Your hands are very cold,” he said and you just shook your head. 

“How no one has wrung you by the neck is beyond me.” 

“Many have tried.” He flashed that smile again. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add your name to the list.” 

You ignored him, taking another deep breath before you closed your eyes. You felt your power within you, the tug you’d grown accustomed to over the years, and you focused it into a single point. 

You slowly worked on healing Nikolai, making sure you went from the inside out to stop any internal bleeding before you carefully wedged the bullet out with your knife. Surprisingly, he managed to keep his mouth shut for the most part. He watched you the entire time though, wholly unyielding, and it was unnerving. 

Nikolai covered up his pain remarkably well, but you still caught the slightest grimace when you practically stuck a dagger inside him.

“Do you always try to injure your patients more when you’re healing them?” he asked innocently. 

“You typically don’t make fun of the person fixing you up,” you said, and you held up the knife, “or the one holding the blade.”

“Surely you could’ve used David to get it out,” Zoya offered lazily. “Better than practically stabbing the King of Ravka.”

“I’m not the king,” Nikolai said. “Not yet, at least.” 

“And I’m not stabbing him.” You held up the bullet with your other hand, then let it fall to the floor. “I just didn’t feel like digging around inside him.” 

Nikolai picked up the bullet, and you frowned in question. He just shrugged. “To hold onto the fond memories of this battle and the kindest, prettiest Healer I’ve ever laid eyes on.” 

Someone snickered behind you, and you turned to see all of them just standing around—Zoya, Harshaw with Oncat perched on his shoulder, Adrik ignoring his sister to watch, even Alina and Mal were still there. At least Tamar had enough sense to stay quiet while she helped you. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you snapped. “It’s hard to focus with you all watching me.”

Alina blinked, seeming to come back to her senses. You almost didn’t blame her—she had so much on her shoulders, it made sense to just want to stand and stare for a minute.

“Right,” she nodded, and she gestured at Zoya and the Squaller siblings as she started walking across the ship, “Adrik, Nadia, I need you all over…”

Alina's words trailed off as she got farther away, and the small crowd dissipated to find duties to carry out without their Sun Summoner to indulge their whims. 

“Thank you for your help, Tamar,” you mumbled. “I can take it from here.” 

She nodded and went off to join the others—the controlled state Nikolai had been in dissolved as she let go of the hold she had on his heart, and the slight daze in his eye went away. 

“Are you always this mean?” Nikolai asked. You turned back to find him with that same unshakable confidence, same lazy smile even in the face of it all. It was no wonder noble and commoner girls alike tripped over themselves when he returned to Ravka. 

It was no wonder Alina fell for his charms despite the tracker by her side—he always knew the right thing to say to make you feel like everything would be okay, and in the midst of Ravka’s endless war, that was a valuable quality indeed.

“I save it for irritating princes,” you remarked. With a final flourish, his wound was sewed up, and Nikolai raised his eyebrows as he touched the newly healed skin.

There was another slight wince, but he still smiled up at you. “Excellent job.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you said.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to Grisha handiwork,” Nikolai said as he pulled himself up from the side of the ship. “Especially the healing kind.”

“It would do you good not to get used to it,” you said. “You may not be king yet, but Zoya is right. I’d appreciate it if you tried to stay out of my infirmary.”

“Do you not enjoy my company?” he asked. 

“I don’t enjoy bringing Ravka’s only heir back from the brink after every battle,” you corrected. “You’ve got a lot more weight on your shoulders now, moi tsarevich.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your Ravkan. “Say that again.”

You frowned, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. Nikolai continued staring at you, so you sighed. “Moi tsarevich?”

He laughed, and that only soured your mood further. “What are you laughing about?” 

“I recognized it back during the attack but I didn’t fully think about it,” he said. “It comes out the most with your R’s. You’re not Ravkan, are you?”

You paused at his sudden subject change. “You were focusing on my accent when everyone was dying around us?” 

“Answer the question.” 

Your frown deepened. “I am in most senses of the word.”

Nikolai’s eyes narrowed. “You’re Kerch.”

Your lips twitched. “Yes, but I don’t—”

“You still haven’t lost the accent somehow,” he continued. “At least, in how you speak certain Ravkan words. Is it Ketterdam?”

“Don’t you have better things to do than quiz your Healer on her childhood?”

“Perhaps,” Nikolai said, eyes twinkling, “but if you’re really my Healer, as you said yourself, I’m surely allowed to ask as many questions as my heart desires.”

“Your heart desires no more,” you said wryly. “I have other injured to attend to. Call if you find yourself actively dying.”

To his credit, he didn’t try to fight it. Just offered that same smile that weakened knees from the Kaelish to the Shu. “I’ll be sure to ring before I’m dead and buried.”

“Put your clothes back on before you do,” you said.

“Ah, but isn’t this your reward for putting up with the irritating prince?” Nikolai asked with a slight gesture at his chest. “I’d imagine you’d want to keep an eye on your handiwork.”

That sparked a rare smile of your own, and you bowed your head. “Moi tsarevich,” you said before you walked off.

You felt Nikolai’s eyes on you even as you approached an injured First Army soldier, and after the first few preliminary questions you couldn’t help but look back. 

When you did, he was gone. 

3. Monastery of Sankt Demyan

You sat on the Spinning Wheel, off to the corner so you wouldn’t be disturbing anyone, staring at your hands as you tried to ignore the thousands of things bumping around in your mind. You’d been on the run with the Sun Summoner and a smattering of other Grisha for longer than you would have liked, but you had to accept that this was what life would be like until the Darkling was either defeated or destroyed you all. 

It was a damning sort of fate, knowing what awaited you unless the impossible was done. At least it would be quick if the nichevo’ya tore you apart. 

You grimaced. That was one thought that would do you no good—if you’d made it this far, from Os Alta under the Darkling’s control to Os Alta under Lantsov control to the White Cathedral and now to Fjerda of all places, what was one more piece of the puzzle? 

A very big piece of the puzzle, of course, and there was still the intrinsic distrust that some soldiers—and even Alina at moments, flickers of it you could see in her eyes against her will—had towards you. You, like the rest of the Grisha here that hailed from the Second Army, served the Darkling until you’d switched sides. You wanted nothing more than to see the Darkling to his grave, for Ravka to be restored and for all of this to be over. 

But you had switched sides in the first place, and you knew enough from the looks of those soldiers—they still believed that if you could betray the Darkling, you could always still betray the Sun Summoner if given enough cause. 

You didn’t try to dissuade their views through words; it wouldn’t do any good. You just hoped the long hours you spent holed up in the infirmary healing the injured would. You missed Maxim if only so you wouldn’t have to do it all alone. 

“Vlachka for your thoughts?” 

You looked up, surprised to see Nikolai Lantsov of all people. You hadn’t held a true conversation with him since you healed him after his bullet wound. He’d been busy with princely things like banishing his parents and saving Genya’s livelihood. 

You were thankful for that, at least. She’d suffered too much at the hands of the Darkling and the King. 

“You’d need a lot more than that,” you said. 

He smiled. “I’ve got quite a bit. Have you seen this place?” 

You chuckled and shrugged. “Just thinking. About our next move, about the Darkling, about what will be after this.” 

“You certainly aren’t the only one,” Nikolai said. “Lately it seems to be all anyone can think about.”

“I’m sure you’d much rather have them thinking of you,” you said wryly. 

“Oh, there’s plenty of that going on as well.” Nikolai smiled. “An even balance, I’d say.”

You chuckled again. “What brings you here, Nikolai?” 

He shrugged. “I wanted to get to know my Healer.” 

You huffed a sigh and looked away. “Why do you call me that?” 

He was awfully good at feigning innocence. “Call you what?” 

“My Healer,” you repeated. “Your Healer. I don’t understand it.” 

“I like the sound of it,” he said. “I’ll stop if you don’t like it.” 

You felt your cheeks heat and you felt his eyes on you. “It’s not that. It’s just—” 

“Because I can,” he continued. “Would you prefer lapushka? Milaya? Perhaps babya.”

You scowled as you turned back to him, and you hit him lightly on the shoulder. “You should stick to the seas and the throne, moi tsarevich. Comedy is not your strong suit.” 

“I like it when you call me that,” he mused. “I like your accent, your voice.” He sat down next to you, mildly unexpected, and you hoped you did better at hiding your surprise than it felt. “There’s something soothing about it.” 

“I am from Ketterdam,” you said after a moment. “You guessed right. Born and raised. When my abilities started showing, my parents put me on a ship to Ravka with a map, some vlachki, and the clothes on my back. I made my way to the Little Palace, pleaded my case to the Darkling, and I haven’t seen them since.”

Nikolai was silent, and you fully turned to look at him. “You wanted to know more about me. That’s who I am. A girl from Ketterdam in over her head.”

“Give yourself some credit,” Nikolai said. “You’re a woman from Ketterdam in over your head.” 

You huffed a laugh, and Nikolai’s expression softened a bit. “Why did they send you away? If that’s alright to ask, of course.” 

You shrugged. “Being a young girl in the Barrel is bad enough. If anyone figured out I was Grisha, I would either be dead in the streets, indentured before I could blink, or worse.”  

“They thought it would be safer in Ravka,” he guessed. “In the Second Army.” 

You nodded. “They couldn’t have known any of this would happen,” you said dryly. 

“Do you miss your parents?” he asked. 

“Every day,” you said quietly. “We sent letters when we could, but it was never enough. And those stopped after Alina left the Little Palace, obviously.” 

You didn’t need to recount the months of the Darkling’s madness as he searched for his Sun Summoner. Nikolai might have been Sturmhond at the time, but you didn’t doubt that he had contacts in the Little Palace. You didn’t exactly want to remember it either. 

“How about this?” Nikolai adjusted his position so he could look right at you, those smart hazel eyes enough to get lost in. You forced yourself not to. “On the slim chance that we make it through these next few weeks, when the dust has settled and I’m officially King, I’ll charter a ship for you back to Ketterdam.” 

Your head whirled back to look at him, eyes widening. There was no sign in his eyes of a false promise, only that soft smile, charming as ever. You had the sudden, misplaced urge to wind your fingers into those blonde curls and kiss him. 

“You’d do that for me?” 

He nodded. “Of course. Only the best for my Healer, right?” 

That got a laugh out of you, but the heat rose to your cheeks all the same. “That would be incredible, Nikolai. Thank you.” 

“Of course.” 

He looked—gazed— at you for a touch longer than usual before he spoke again. 

“There’s going to be a meteor shower later tonight,” Nikolai said. “One of my crew figured it out—he’s very fond of the sky, and he told me it would be… quite the sight.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. Was he—

“I’d like to watch it with you,” Nikolai continued. “Of course, I have to put on a display with Alina, but after that,” he looked over at you, hazel eyes gleaming, “I’d like to spend the night with you.” 

It took a moment for your brain to fully process his words. “Moi tsarevich, are… you asking me on a— a date?” 

“Just Nikolai, please,” he said with a grin. “And yes, I am.” 

It seemed so trivial in the scheme of things. You were leading an impossible battle against the Darkling, and as a traitor to his throne, you would end up dead or worse if he caught you. The near entirety of the Second Army was dead, friends you’d grown up and honed your power alongside with ripped apart by nichevo’ya. Your chances for victory relied on the firebird, and no one knew a damn thing about it. 

It was trivial. It was frankly ridiculous, for the prince— the King of Ravka—to be asking you on a date, especially when it was imperative for him to present a certain image with Alina. 

But for all the triviality and ridiculousness and idiocy, you found that you’d never wanted to accept something so badly. 

So you did. You nodded, smiled, brighter than usual. Nikolai seemed to have that effect on you. 

“I’d love to.” 

“Wonderful.” Somehow, impossibly, his grin grew bigger. Nikolai took your hand and pressed a delicate kiss to it before he stood back up—you’d never been so thankful for his confidence, because you found yourself at a loss for words. “I’ll see you tonight, darling. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.” 

You nodded again, and you knew you looked like a dazed idiot. The better half of a decade spent training as a Grisha and all it took was a kiss to your hand for your brain to stop working. You really had been at war for far too long. 

Nikolai could tell every thought—or lack thereof—in your head by the overly pleased expression he wore as he walked away, and your entire face burned as you bit back your smile. 

He knew exactly what he did to you. 

4. The Bittern 

Sergei sold you out. 

That son of bitch had betrayed you all to the Darkling the first chance he got, and he’d been rewarded with a quicker death than any of you would get. 

You’d been left fighting for your lives against the Darkling’s oprichniki, Grisha, and nichevo’ya alike, and as usual, you were hopelessly outnumbered. You knelt over Adrik as Zoya, Nadia, Harshaw, and David kept the crowd of enemies back, doing your damnedest to keep him from bleeding out from his nichevo’ya bite. 

His arm hung at a bizarre angle, and you didn’t know how you would tell him and his sister you didn’t think you could save it. You were sure Genya’s whispered words were the only thing keeping him even slightly calm.

By the time the Bittern was in the air, precarious but afloat, you were about ready to collapse. It had all been too damn much, with the Darkling and Baghra and Nevsky, and now the poor schoolboy lying beneath you with an arm you couldn’t save. 

“He’ll be okay,” you murmured to nobody but yourself, wiping beads of sweat from your forehead as you laid against the side of the ship. As okay as any boy who lost his arm to a shadow monster and went through what he just did. 

Thank the Saints for Tolya keeping both Adrik’s and your heart steady during that ordeal, because you were sure your panic would have won over. 

Everyone in your motley crew was injured in some way or another, and you were the only Healer. Soon you were back on your feet, pushing the horrors of the night out of your mind as you mended lacerations and fixed up bullet wounds. 

Every so often, your eyes would drift over to Adrik. You’d healed him the best you could, but it wasn’t enough. 

And then your mind went to Nikolai. 

Nikolai. 

In the chaos of the battle and the subsequent healing haze, you hadn’t even realized he wasn’t with your group. The Pelican had taken off before you all got to the Bittern, but Nikolai wouldn’t have left Alina on her own after all he’d done to ensure her safety. 

You were almost too scared to ask, but you did anyway. 

“Alina,” you asked, slightly surprised at the sound of your voice in the silence of the night, “where’s Nikolai?” 

Her eyes were unfocused, arms crossed around her midsection for warmth despite the light that glowed beneath her skin. “The Darkling,” she murmured. 

“Wh— what did he do to him?” you continued. “What in the Saints’ name happened to him, Alina?” 

“He ruined him,” she whispered. “He turned him into a monster.” The look on Alina’s face broke you into even smaller pieces. “He turned him into a monster all because Nikolai dared to stand against him. He’s gone.” 

Your grip tightened on the side of the ship as she explained what she had to watch, and your knees threatened to buckle. 

Maybe it was stupid, but you hadn’t even realized you cared this much about the prince. The king, you had to keep reminding yourself. But the thought of him hurt—a hurt that you couldn’t heal—it tore your heart to shreds. 

Only last night you were laying on a blanket next to him, staring up at the meteor shower through the glass dome. He’d never looked more beautiful than he did then, with the streaks of light illuminating his handsome features and those hazel eyes you’d grown to appreciate. 

Few words had passed between the two of you, but once Nikolai had taken your hand in his, neither of you let go for the remainder of the night. That urge to kiss him came back in spades, but you never acted on it. 

Saints, you wished you had. 

“Do you think you can heal him?” Your voice sounded oddly foreign, but you didn’t even feel like you were in your body. Like you were watching it all happen from above, because this couldn’t have been happening. Not to Nikolai— to your Nikolai. 

You were his Healer, and he was your Nikolai. That was how it was supposed to be. 

“I don’t know,” Alina admitted, her tone strained. “My light might be able to help, but… but whenever I’ve used it against the nichevo’ya, against the volcra, I— it kills them.” 

Her voice broke on the last few words, and you wanted to hug her. Alina didn’t love him, you knew that much, but anyone could tell she’d grown close to Nikolai over the months. She was hurting just as much as you. 

You didn’t. You found that you couldn’t do much but stare into the night sky.

He was all alone. Forced into a monster, and now he was all alone. 

It felt like ages before the Bittern finally landed, everyone’s teeth stained rust-orange and bones run deep with exhaustion. Everyone was still alive when you woke up the next morning, and after another check-up on Adrik, you went off into the woods under the guise of searching for kindling. 

Really, you needed some time to yourself. After what had happened—Sergei’s betrayal, losing even more Grisha when you had little to start with, Baghra’s sacrifice, Adrik and his arm, and— and Nikolai—

It was too much. It was just too damn much. 

You’d never gotten close like this to anyone before, never moved further than some useless flirtations and a few stolen kisses with various Grisha when you were bored back at the Little Palace, and when you finally did, with the damned future King of Ravka, this is what happened. 

Guilt tore away at you as you plodded through the woods, and you let the tears you’d been holding back all night fall. You wished you’d been there for him. You wished you’d kissed him. You wished you were strong enough to take the Darkling down on your own for what he’d done. 

The hairs stood up on the back of your neck, and you heard the rustling of branches. You whirled around to the source of the sound, taking a few steps to peer through the trees, and that was when you saw it. 

Your eyes widened and your heart cracked all at once. 

“Nikolai,” you whispered. 

You’d have recognized him anywhere. Despite the shadowy veins splintering across his chest, the wings furled behind his back, claws and fangs in place of fingers and teeth—he was still your Nikolai. His blonde curls remained, his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw, even his clever eyes—even if they were black instead of hazel. 

The smear of blood around his mouth was a sharp contrast to it all. You wondered what—or who—had become his unlucky victim when he could no longer control his hunger. 

Nikolai didn’t move as you stepped closer. His dark gaze was unreadable and you wanted to sob for what the Darkling had done to him. 

“It’s me.” You continued to speak softly as you moved closer, saying your name in hopes of even a spark of recognition. “Your Healer.” 

His eyes followed your movements, his gaze falling down to your hands. He pointed at them with a clawed talon.

You held them up. “My hands?” 

You realized the blood around his mouth wasn’t the only bit of it on his body as your eyes trailed across his bare chest. There were cuts all across his arms and chest, most small but some deeper. He pointed at a thin scar near his abdomen, the only sign of the bullet wound you’d stitched up. 

He wanted you to heal him. He knew who you were. 

This time, a small sob escaped you, and your hand flew up almost on instinct to cover it. You brushed the tears brimming in your eyes as you moved closer to him, and you gently placed your hand on his arm. You felt his limb stiffen for a moment before they relaxed, and you couldn’t help your small smile. Your Nikolai was still there. 

The thin cut vanished as you healed it, and you continued to do the same for the myriad of other injuries on his body. You felt his gaze on you the entire time, and some part of it was comforting. Nikolai was still there—his humanity was still there. This was the least you could do to make him feel the part. 

Once you’d healed up the last of his wounds, you felt the glow of Grisha power inside of you. Nikolai grabbed onto your hand the moment you’d finished, and you looked up into his dark eyes as your fingers clasped around his talons.

“We’ll figure this out, Nikolai,” you whispered. “I promise.”

The corner of his lips curled up ever so slightly, the barest sign of the old smile you’d grown to love.

And then he let go of your hand, and he shot up into the air. It took only seconds for him to disappear, but your gaze remained stuck in place. 

All you could think of was Nikolai’s dark eyes and the shattered shadows beneath his skin, the feel of his taloned hand in yours.  

You would find a way to bring him back. You knew that much. 

5. The Shadow Fold 

“For Saint’s sake— catch him, Zoya!” 

“You screeching at me isn’t helping,” she snarled, her hands held out above her as she summoned wind to break Nikolai’s fall. 

It was almost laughable, how Alina ended it all with a bit of stabbing. First Mal, then the Darkling—now Soldat Sol and oprichniki alike were glowing like human lamps around the Fold. The nichevo’ya dissolved with the Darkling’s power, the same thing that created Nikolai’s monster—you screamed in general when you first saw him falling, and then you screamed at Zoya. It was a credit to her growth that she didn’t slap you first. 

Thankfully, the updraft did its job, and he only landed in the sand at concerning speeds rather than very concerning. 

You ran for him without thinking, not even feeling the jolt in your ankles as you lept from the skiff onto the sands. You no longer had to fear the Fold—the various Sun Soldiers that had gotten Alina’s powers had done away with the remainder in no time—and even if you did, you would brave a thousand volcra for Nikolai. 

He looked so small, so vulnerable laying there in the sand, only clad in torn pants and a myriad of bruises. The last of the shadows receded when you finally reached him, and you didn’t try to stop the tears as they flowed freely down your cheeks. 

“Nikolai,” you whispered, falling to your knees in the sand next to him, “Nikolai, can you hear me?” 

You cradled his head in your hands, tears splattering in the sand around you, and then his eyes opened. 

His beautiful hazel eyes opened and looked right at you, his lips tugging into a smirk as he said your name. 

“Would you say this is an important princely thing?” His voice was husky, damaged from whatever dark thing that had taken a hold of him, but the usual lilt was there. “Or just another injury?” 

You broke into full on sobs, unabashedly and unashamed as you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a hug. You felt his arms around you as well, and he rubbed circles on your back. 

“I had time to think,” Nikolai murmured, “and I think I’ll settle on lapushka.” 

Darling. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, and you moved away from him just so you could look at him, gaze at him, never forget his beautiful features. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” 

“I knew I would be,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I had you looking out for me.” 

“Stop,” you said, your voice watery. “I can’t keep crying in front of you.” 

“I think you’ve more than earned it, lapushka.” 

You laughed again as you shook your head. “How do you feel? Can you still move all your limbs?” 

Nikolai took his hand in yours, fingers intertwining with yours. His gaze didn’t move from you. “Limbs are fine.” 

You let your smile shine unabashed as you squeezed his hand, thankful for the lack of talons. “Can you sit up?” 

Nikolai visibly winced at the effort, but he managed with your help. “My chest hurts quite a bit.” 

“You’ve definitely broken some ribs,” you murmured, “but it’s nothing I can’t fix up.” 

“There’s nothing you can’t fix,” Nikolai said. 

“Careful with all the praise. I might get used to it.” 

“Good.” 

You glanced over to see Tolya and Zoya moving across the sand towards you and you looked back at Nikolai. 

“We’re going to get you back on the skiff, Nikolai,” you said. “I’ll get you healed up and then we’ll get you some clothes. Alright?” 

“I told you,” Nikolai said, “this is your reward for putting up with the irritating prince.” 

“That was for the prince,” you said, running a hand through his blonde curls to untangle them. “My reward for putting up with irritating kings is to make sure they’re clothed and healed.” 

His smile shone brighter than anything Alina could conjure up. 

The Darkling’s Skiff 

You ended up below deck with Nikolai, Tolya, an unconscious Alina and Mal, and the Darkling’s body. It normally wouldn’t have been a cheery atmosphere, but you were just thankful to be alive after all you’d done. Thankful that Nikolai was alive and himself and that the Darkling was dead. 

A First Army uniform was folded next to Nikolai’s makeshift cot where you sat next to him, and Tolya’s companionable silence was appreciated as he stayed by Alina and Mal to ensure they stayed alive. 

“You broke a few ribs in your fall,” you murmured, your hands placed on his chest, “but overall, I’d say you made out pretty well.” 

“Yes,” Nikolai said wryly, looking at his hands. Faint black lines ran across each of his fingers, where claws had torn through his skin. Though the other shadowy marks had faded, these appeared to be permanent. “Pretty well.” 

“You know what I mean, Nikolai.” You moved your hand over his ribs and focused your power—by the slight grimace on his face, the itch that came along with Grisha healing, you knew they were mending back together. “You’re still alive. You’re you again. That means everything.” 

“And your hands are still freakishly cold,” he mused. You smiled. 

A moment passed before he spoke again. 

“You know,” Nikolai said, and you felt his eyes on you again, “I remember everything. Everything that I did when I was that… that thing.” 

Your throat bobbed, but you nodded, encouraging him on. 

“I went to you,” he said, “and… you helped me. You weren’t afraid—you understood what I meant, and you healed me.” 

“Of course I did,” you said softly. A smile tugged at your lips. “I am your Healer, after all.” 

Nikolai placed his hand over one of yours, and your power wavered for a moment as your heart stuttered. 

“One of your ribs is still broken, Nikolai,” you said. “I have to—” 

“I love you,” he interrupted. Your eyes snapped to him, and you thought you misheard him. 

“What?” 

“I love you,” he repeated, as if it came as easily to him as breathing. “Forgive me for the lack of ballads and sonnets on how to express it—I plan to remedy that as soon as we’re back in Os Alta. But I love you, and it’s the one thing I’m sure of at this moment.” 

You continued to stare at him, as if you’d suddenly forgotten how to speak. Nikolai was no Corporalnik, but you were sure he could hear how loudly your heart was beating. 

“It’s alright if you don’t feel the same,” Nikolai said, “or if you��re not ready. I’m a very patient man.” 

It was like your limbs had suddenly regained the ability to move, because something clicked in your mind. You took his face in your hands and you kissed him with a brazen fierceness you didn’t even know you had. 

For a man with two bruised ribs and one broken one, he kissed you back with the same intensity, if not more. You poured all your fear, all your anxiety, all your worries about him into the kiss, reveling in the warmth of his lips and his hands and—

Tolya cleared his throat. “We’re nearly out of the Fold.” 

You pulled away as quickly as it had started, Nikolai looking very pleased with himself as you fixed the collar of your kefta and looked over at him with eyes that were surely more pupil than iris. 

“Thank you, Tolya,” you said, and you cleared your throat as well. Good of him to ignore the two of you. Embarrassing of you to nearly forget about your surroundings when you looked at Nikolai. 

“Yes,” Nikolai said, mirth in his voice, “thank you, Tolya.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned back to him, your lips still burning from his kiss, and you settled your hands back on Nikolai’s chest. 

“No more interruptions,” you said. “I’ve got to get you healed and dressed before we’re off the sand.” 

His eyes twinkled. “Whatever you say, lapushka.” 

You had no idea what was next. The Sun Summoner died on the Fold, the Darkling’s reign of terror was finally over, and Nikolai was to be King. You didn’t know where you would fit in, though you were sure he would find a place. 

But you loved Nikolai, and by the Saints, Nikolai loved you. 

And for now, that was more than enough. 

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov x y/n #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fluff #nikolai lantsov angst #nikolai lantsov the love of my life #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone fic #grishaverse x reader #sadie writes

[bellofthemeadow]

Dawn Ends the Night | Chapter 2

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader (Dayne)

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 6.1k

Warning: All warnings on the Series Masterlist, will update if necessary (Re-iterating, no minors allowed! Thank you)

Chapter Summary: As you arrive in King's Landing, you realise that the city is in even worst shape than you ever could have thought. When you are face with a deadly situation, will you be saved in time?

Notes: Hello everyone! I hope you all had lovely holidays, for me this time of year is always bittersweet as it is close to the date of my dad's passing away. But it was still lovely to have some time off (for the first time ever I am working somewhere which closes during the holiday season!!!) And if you do not celebrate any holidays, I hope you had a very lovely regular week doing something that gave you some joy 💚

I finally had time to sit down and finish this chapter (the longest so far!) I hope you all enjoy it, I am not really good with action scenes, but I am trying to get better at it and I know that the more I work at it the better I will become. I feel like some part of it might feel a bit rush, but I wanted to finish the chapter and go into more details in the next one.

Once again, thank you to everyone who commented, relogged and liked my work, I appreciate you all so so much. If you want to be added to the taglist lmk, and if I forgot to add you, lmk and I will remediate to that right away. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this chapter!!! 💜💜💜

Love you all

Taglist: @duds31 , @snh96, @lol-im-done, @heavenly1927, @whimsywilde , @queen-123s-posts

My dearest friend,  

When Father returned from Starfall, my heart sank. Not only had he visited you, my soul's companion, without a whisper of it to me, but the reason... oh, the reason cuts far deeper. To hear that you, my most cherished friend, are to be wed to a Targaryen whelp is nothing short of a cruel jest. Had I been the ruling Princess of Dorne, never would I let you be torn from our sun-kissed lands to that pit of treachery. 

Father speaks of alliances, of securing our houses' futures, but what of your heart? Your laughter? If such a future means dimming the light in your eyes, I say let the sands of Dorne turn to glass in dragonfire before I witness your spirit fade. Give me but a sign, my beloved friend, and I will defy the world to bring you back to where you belong. I will hide you away in the lush secrecy of the library of Sunspear, our childhood haven, where no prying eyes could ever dream of finding you. 

Never forget, you are the other half of my soul. Wherever you go, my spirit will be entwined with yours, ever ready to rise in your defense, to be your shelter, to protect your heart.  

With all my love,  

Your Aliandra 

Princess of Dorne.  

Gently, you kiss the letter, feeling the delicate texture of the paper against your lips before pressing it close to your heart. It's a small comfort, a tangible piece of Aliandra you can hold onto. The pain of leaving without a proper farewell to her gnawed at you, a regret that lies heavy in your chest. You were torn apart so suddenly, with no chance for one last embrace, no opportunity to exchange final words that might have eased the ache of your separation. 

As the cart lurches over a rough patch on the brick road, it jostled your mother awake from her peaceful doze across from you. Watching her, you envy her momentary escape from worry. Your thoughts, however, are clouded with the fear that you might never see Aliandra again, casting a pall over the passing scenery that blurs outside the cart's window. 

“The road is getting more unsteady. It is a wonder horses and carts are not toppling over all the time.” your father grumbled from your mother side as he puts her back solid in her seat.   

"Given that King's Landing is the largest city in Westeros, it's not surprising," you mused aloud. "The roads bear the weight of countless travelers. Without regular maintenance, they are bound to deteriorate more quickly than those in quieter regions." 

The news of your circumstance had unfolded all too swiftly. From the moment you were informed about the arrangement to wed prince Aemond Targaryen, you had anticipated some months to come to terms with the idea. Yet, fate allowed no such luxury. Barely a fortnight had elapsed before you found yourself, alongside your parents and younger brother, embarking on the long journey away from the familiar comforts of your home. The swiftness of it all left you reeling, with nothing to tether you to yourself other than Aliandra’s letter. 

The fortnight following the announcement of your betrothal was a blur of melancholy. You spent most of it confined within the wheelhouse, gazing listlessly at the world transforming outside its windows. The familiar sandy dunes of your homeland soon gave way to the verdant, rolling hills of the Reach. The air was thick with the scents of fragrant flowers and sweet honey, an assault on your senses accustomed to the arid desert air filled with spices and sweet blooming oranges.  

By the end of the second week, you had developed a certain aversion to the Reach; everything was too lush, too green. It was also no secret that Dornishmen were viewed with skepticism here. Truthfully, this sentiment seemed to extend across Westeros, where your customs were considered peculiar and too promiscuous, your traditions alien, and your gods too lenient.  

With each mile that brought you nearer to King's Landing, another mile stretched between you and your home. You tried not to dwell on the past, yet occasionally found yourself gazing wistfully out the back of the wheelhouse, eyes tracing the path that led home. In those moments, a quiet hope flickered within you, a wish for your father to suddenly steer the carriage around and return to the familiar embrace of your homeland. But such thoughts were the whims of a child, and you were no longer that - you were a woman grown, bound by duty and family. 

Your brother's lively banter abruptly drew you out of your pensive state. Turning towards him, you saw him nestled snugly in your mother's embrace, his tiny forehead receiving a shower of gentle kisses from her. His eyes, bright and curious, were wide open following his nap, which had likely been disrupted by the jostling ride over the capital's unevenly paved roads. He seemed to be bubbling with excitement, his small hands pointing animatedly towards the window, captivated by the new sights as your wheelhouse neared the imposing gates of King's Landing. 

As the procession drew closer, the stern-faced gold cloaks at the gate were methodically examining each entrant. The presence of the knights accompanying your family, a small but formidable escort clad in armor and ready for any threat, was a reassuring sight amidst the bustling activity at the gates. Upon spotting your family's sigil of the white fallen star set against a deep purple background, the gold cloaks' expressions subtly shifted. It wasn't a look of welcome but rather one of begrudging acknowledgment. They seemed to recognize the necessity of allowing your party entry but did so without enthusiasm or warmth. With a barely perceptible nod, they allowed your group to pass through the gates. It was a reluctant concession, one that made it clear that while your arrival might be expected, the arrival of a Dornish retinue was not exactly celebrated in the heart of the Seven Kingdoms. 

After your carriage was waved through into the city, your brother's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Sister, is this where you're going to live forever?" he asked with wide-eyed curiosity. 

 "Yes, Gerris, it seems this will be my new home," you replied, trying to mask your apprehension with a serene tone. From the corner of your eye, you caught your mother's melancholic expression. "Gerris, give your sister some space," she cautioned gently. "She's about to meet the man she will marry and needs time to prepare herself in peace." 

"I've had plenty of time to think these past weeks while stuck in this wheelhouse Mother," you interjected softly, "I'd welcome a distraction from my charming little brother right now." Gerris' face lit up at your invitation. He wriggled out of your mother's arms and settled beside you, eagerly pointing out every new sight he saw outside. 

As Gerris animatedly described every novel sight outside the window, your mind wandered slightly, though you kept nodding and smiling at his observations. The reality outside was a stark contrast to his cheerful words. The streets were filled with people whose life seemed to be a daily struggle, their worn-out garments telling stories of hardship. The smell of the city was overpowering, a pungent mixture of waste, overcrowding, and something harder to define — perhaps the desperation of those trying to survive in the capital. The stench made you miss the pungent smell of roses of the Reach, at least people were not starving there.  

The carriage came to an abrupt halt, jostling everyone inside and causing a chaotic tumble of limbs. From outside, a cacophony of shouting voices penetrated the carriage walls. Curiosity piqued, you attempted to peer out of the small side window for a better look, but your father's quick movement halted you. With a firm gesture, he signaled for you to remain seated, his expression stern and alert. 

Meanwhile, your brother's lower lip began to tremble with the sudden scare, and he quickly buried himself in your mother's embrace. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, offering a comforting shield against the confusion and noise outside.  

"Stay in the carriage, all of you!" your father commanded, his voice tense with urgency. 

"But Father, I—" you began, only to be cut off. 

"Stay inside!" he reiterated sharply. "I'll return shortly. We're strangers in this city, and I need you to be strong, my little star. Take care of your mother and brother for me." With these words, your father quickly opened the carriage door and stepped out, moving swiftly towards the source of the disturbance. 

From the corner of your eye, through the small gap as the door swung shut, you caught a glimpse of the chaos outside. About 100 meters ahead, a blockade of overturned carts sprawled across the road. As you sighed, offering Gerris a strained, reassuring smile, you couldn't help but notice his tight grip on your mother. "It's just some overturned carts, Gerris. Nothing to worry about," you murmured, but your heart was heavy with unspoken fears. Watching your little brother, you realized the innocence he still held, a stark contrast to the burdens you had borne from when you were his age. 

Gerris managed a timid smile, yet the sight only deepened your sorrow. He would one day need to don the armor of a lord, to face the harsh realities of ruling a strong ancient seat like Starfall. You quickly brushed aside the thought, reminding yourself he was merely five summers old. Still, a painful realization crept in – he had time to be a child, a luxury you were never afforded. 

"When were you ever just a child?" the bitter voice in your mind accused. "Always groomed to be the perfect future lady of Starfall, diligent in your studies until they decided you were no longer needed." The realization felt like a tightening vice around your chest, each breath becoming more labored. 

"I... I need air!" The words escaped your lips in a choked gasp, tears threatening to spill over. 

"Wait..." Your mother's voice, laced with worry, reached out to stop you as you lunged for the door. "Your father said..." 

"I know what Father said!" you snapped, the words sharper than intended. Pulling your arm free from your mother’s grasp, "I'm just going to stand outside the door. Nothing will happen. I... I just need a moment alone!" With that, you pushed the door open, desperate for a few breaths of fresh air and a brief escape from the confines of the carriage. 

You slammed the carriage door behind you, effectively silencing your mother's protests that echoed faintly through the wood. Taking a moment for yourself, you closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, each breath an attempt to soothe the turmoil within and restore your composure. When you finally opened your eyes, you saw your father in conversation afar with a gold cloak. The guard's expression was one of indifference, seemingly unimpressed by whatever your father was explaining. Your father was a foreigner to them, you were a foreigner, and you knew deep in your heart that you would always remain a foreigner in these people’s hearts.  

After taking several steadying breaths, you let your gaze drift across the bustling scene. Women hurried by their dresses worn and their eyes weary, each absorbed in their own world of tasks and toils. Nearby, men argued loudly over some trivial matter, their voices blending into the city's cacophony. Merchants hawked their wares, each vying for the attention of passersby. 

Across the walkway, a small market caught your attention. Among the various stalls, one in particular stood out with its display of brightly colored silk pieces. Glancing back at your father, you noticed he was still engaged in a seemingly fruitless discussion with the gold cloak. Making a quick decision, you shrugged and stealthily made your way toward the silk stand, evading the guards that had remained near the carriage. It would be a brief detour, you reasoned. You'd have time to explore this little slice of the city and return before the carriage was ready to continue towards the castle. 

You approached the stall, immediately drawn to the array of silk pieces displayed in a riot of colors, from a brilliant azure to a deep orange reminiscent of a breathtaking sunset. 

The shopkeeper, a portly man with a twirling mustache and a shiny forehead partly concealed under a vivid purple cap, noticed your interest. "Find anything to your liking, m'lady?" he asked with a friendly twinkle in his eyes. 

"These silks are quite stunning," you remarked, admiring the craftsmanship. "Your selection is impressive." 

The man leaned forward, curiosity lighting up his face. "Ah, I detect an accent there! From Dorne, aren't ya, m'lady?" he inquired. 

You offered a hesitant smile. "Quite perceptive, good ser. I hail from the Torrentine region." 

"Dorne's a land of beauty, no doubt about that. Shame about the recent troubles, though," he mused. "My wife, Margy, often says them highborns complicate life more than necessary. But when you meet a girl as pretty as you’self, you wonder, why even go to war eh!?" He raised an eyebrow in a playful, flirtatious gesture, eliciting a light chuckle from you. 

"I hope the rest of King's Landing shares your open-mindedness and hospitality," you said, still smiling. 

"For a lady as charming as yourself? I'm sure you'll find plenty of warm welcomes here," he reassured. 

"Are you originally from King's Landing?" you inquired. 

 "Indeed, born and raised in this very city," he beamed. "Left as a lad to see the world, ended up in Myr where I got into the silk trade. Met my Margy there, and we returned to set up shop. The war in the Stepstones made things difficult, but we're getting back on our feet now." 

A pang of sadness hit you. "I'm sorry. I know Dorne played a role in that conflict, one that might not have been favorable for your business." 

He waved off your concern. "Don't you worry about that, m'lady. You didn't make those decisions, did you? We all just play the hand we're dealt." 

Your laughter lit the air. "I suppose not. Nonetheless, please accept my apologies on behalf of Dorne." 

"I'll do you one better," he proposed, "I'll accept your apology if you accept one of my silk scarves." 

"Oh, I couldn't possibly impose," you demurred. 

"It'd be my pleasure, m'lady. Perhaps you could show it off at court? It's not every day a future princess visits my stall." 

"And how did you guess my identity?" you asked, amused by his astuteness. 

"HAHA, we don't see many Dornish ladies of your stature around here. I recognized you the moment you approached my stall," he chuckled. 

“Well, if I am to accept your offer, may I know the name of the kind gentleman who extends it?" you inquired with a teasing smile. 

“The name’s Dougas m’lday, pleased to make the acquaintance of such a’ pretty princess!”   

"Thank you, Ser Dougas," you said sweetly. "By any chance, do you have a scarf with some purple and white?" 

__________________ 

As you perused Dougas's collection of silk scarves, you found yourself hesitating. Each scarf, while beautiful, didn't quite match the calming purple hue you had in mind. They were either too bright or too dull, never hitting that perfect shade. Dougas, however, seemed unfazed by your indecision, confident that somewhere within his stock lay the exact color you were seeking. 

While you sifted through the vibrant array of fabrics, the carriage remained stuck amid the traffic caused by the overturned carts. This gave you the luxury of time to carefully consider each option. Just as you were about to decide, a loud cry from the market abruptly interrupted your thoughts, drawing your attention away from the scarves and making you turn toward the noise.  

A small figure caught your eye amidst the commotion – a boy, no older than Gerris, but his appearance was marked by the harshness of what life in Knig’s Landing is like for those less fortunate. He was clad in threadbare rags that hung loosely on his small frame, and his hair, a dirty mousy brown, was tousled and unkempt. His young face, smudged with grime, bore the unmistakable look of poverty, likely a young resident of Flea Bottom. 

You recalled a lesson from your tutor back in Starfall, whose words now echoed in your mind: "In King's Landing, especially in places like Flea Bottom, you'll witness the depths of despair and poverty. Crime there is often a byproduct of extreme circumstances. Remember, my lady, those driven to such acts are often at the edge of their humanity, their moral compass skewed by hunger and desperation. Our response to their plight, whether it is one of disdain or compassion, is a testament to our own humanity." 

" ‘Tis young Davos again," Dougas murmured with a heavy sigh, his eyes following the small boy struggling in the firm grasp of a gold cloak. "Second time this week he's been caught stealing. They'll likely make an example of him now." 

As the boy writhed and squirmed against the guard's unyielding hold, you scanned the crowd. Indifference was the prevailing response; some onlookers snickered; others deliberately looked away. The merchant who had been the victim of the theft was loudly demanding justice, his voice filled with frustration and anger. 

A growing sense of anxiety began to pulse within you. The ease of being a passive observer, of being the Ghost who roamed the hallways of Starfall and who murmured sweet nothings in the ears of Aliandra, now felt uncomfortably inadequate here in the bustling streets of King's Landing. 

Without another thought, you grabbed hold of a beautiful purple silk scarf from Dougas's stall, its intricate white threadwork catching your eye. "I'll take this one, thank you, Dougas," you said quickly, laying some gold coins on the counter. "And please, accept this if not as payment, as an apology for any hardship Dorne's actions in the Stepstone may have caused you." 

With a brief nod, Dougas acknowledged your gesture. But your attention was already elsewhere. You turned swiftly, making your way towards the commotion. The boy's small feet kicked futilely in the air as he tried to free himself from the gold cloak's grip. 

"Let him go! He's just a child!" The shrillness of your own voice surprised you, piercing through the market's din with an urgency you had never expressed before. 

Both the gold cloak and the boy snapped their heads towards you. In that brief moment of distraction, the boy seized his chance, delivering a sharp kick to the guard's shin. The guard winced but, recovering quickly, caught the boy by his dirty, tangled hair, yanking him back with such force that a pained cry escaped the boy's lips. 

"Stay out of this, wench! This isn't your affair!" the guard sneered at you. 

"This boy's been thieving from me for weeks!" the merchant screeched, still in the throes of his tirade. "He needs to be taught a lesson!" 

You strode determinedly towards the merchant, your resolve steeling. "And what? He deserves to be beaten? Killed, perhaps, because he stole from you? Look at him – he's just skin and bones, starving!" 

Reaching into your purse, you pulled out ten gold dragons. "Will this cover what he owes?" you asked, extending the coins towards the merchant. His eyes, greedy and calculating, fixated on the gold. "It'll do... for now. But if I see him near my stall again, no amount of gold will stop me from dealing with him myself, you hear that, boy?" 

You whirled towards the guard, your voice firm. "Didn't you hear? Let the boy go this instant!" Yet, the guard only tightened his grip on the boy's hair, drawing another pained cry. "Please, help," the boy whimpered. 

"You think I'll just let him go because that fat merchant said so?" the guard scoffed. "I am the law ‘round here, and it's my call who gets punished. This boy is nothing but a common thief and I’ll serve him the king’s justice as I see fit, so stay outta it!" 

"If it's money you're after, then I can pay," you offered, desperation creeping into your voice. "Would 10 gold dragons suffice, for the boy’s life?" But the guard only sneered in response. "You think you can bribe a member of the gold cloaks? Your money means nothing to me." 

With a harsh shove, he pushed the boy to the ground, eliciting a sharp cry of pain. Then, turning his attention to you, the guard advanced with a menacing leer. You suddenly felt like prey – you recalled the time your father took you fox hunting in the desert. Back then, you were the hunter, patiently pursuing your quarry. But now, here in the heart of King's Landing, you were the cornered fox, vulnerable and exposed, ready to be killed. 

Your eyes scanned the crowd, seeking an ally, but found none. Dougas's concerned gaze met yours, and you could tell he was contemplating stepping in. Yet, with a subtle shake of your head, you silently implored him not to intervene. This was your battle; you couldn't bear the thought of anyone else suffering for the situation you had escalated. But only a look at little Davos whimpering on the ground and you knew you had made the right choice, you could not just stand by and see this little boy suffer for the sick amusement of this guard.  

"Then what do you want in exchange for the boy's freedom?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. The guard stepped closer, alarmingly close, and insolently grabbed a strand of your long hair, taking a deep, unsettling sniff. A shiver of revulsion ran down your spine. "I fought in the last Dornish war, you know, little lady? I can spot a Dornish whore a mile away." He yanked your hair painfully. "I know your kind are loose and easy. So, prove how badly you want the boy freed. Satisfy me, and maybe I'll let him go." 

The guard was so close that the foul stench of sour wine on his breath was overwhelming you. Without thinking, you slapped him hard across the face. "Don't you dare touch me!" you shouted. "Do you have any idea who I am?" 

"I know exactly what you are," he sneered, reaching for your throat. "A self-important little Dornish slut." But before he could tighten his grip, he suddenly crumpled to his knees. Little Davos, wielding a sizable rock, had struck him from behind. 

"Come on, lady, we gotta run!" Davos urged, but you stood frozen, overwhelmed by the chaos and the unfamiliarity of your surroundings. The fond memories of Starfall's serene dawns, the fragrant lemon air, and Aliandra's gentle touch over your body seemed like distant dreams, replaced by foul a foul stinking stench, crying little boys and discussing greasy hands tugging your hair and pressing upon your throat.  

As the gold cloak staggered to his feet, spewing obscenities, you instinctively grabbed Davos, positioning him protectively behind you. "Stay behind me; I'll protect you," you asserted, but the boy refused to stay put, instead wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. With one arm, you held him close, while with your other hand, you braced yourself as the guard drew his sword and pointed it at you.  

“YOU STUPID FUCKING WHORE! YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST SUCKED MY COCK WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE!” The guard was purple in the face from all his screaming, you tightened your arm around Davos who was weeping, his tears wetting your gauzy skirt. “I’m gonna enjoy killing the boy, but I am going to enjoy dealing with you even more, you Dornish slut!” The guard raised his sword to your neck and let it drop to your cleavage, pushing your dress down and revealing the top of your breast, “You imma strip naked in front of everyone, then I am gonna give you the beatin’ your daddy should have given to the little bitch that you are, and I am gonna show everyone what happens when someone dares to disrespect the gold cloak!”  

Your heart pounded in your chest as the guard menacingly dragged his sword across your chest, not deep enough to draw blood but enough to make you squirm, the cruel glint in his eyes holding your gaze as he toyed with you. Paralyzed with fear, you desperately wanted to urge Davos to run, to escape this nightmare, but you knew you couldn't - it would only put him in more danger. 

A wave of despair washed over you. You had thought you could make a difference, naively believed that you could help this little boy. But now, you realized just how misguided you had been. What a foolish idiot to think that you could go against an armed guard. "I'm so sorry," you whispered to Davos, your voice trembling. Gently, you stroked his hair, pulling him as close to you as possible, a futile shield against the imminent threat. 

Davos lifted his eyes to meet yours, and you found yourself looking into deep, warm pools of brown, brimming with tears. In his gaze, there was an unmistakable look of trust and love, as if you were the Mother reborn. Despite the layers of grime on his face, his still soft youthful features were still apparent – the rounded fullness of his cheeks and the small, upturned nose. After a moment of shared eye contact, laden with unspoken understanding and fear, he buried his face back into the fabric of your skirt, his grip around you tightening as if to say, “It's alright you did your best.”  In that moment, you steeled yourself, determined to stand your ground. If it came to it, you would fight, not just for yourself, but for this boy who had shown more bravery than anyone else you had ever known. Your eyes remained fixed on the guard, refusing to look away. If this was to be your end, you would face it head-on, protecting Davos to your very last breath. 

You clenched your teeth, “You better do your worst you piece of shit, because if I get up, you certainly won’t!”  

The guard menacingly lifted his sword, a sinister glint in his eye. "Perhaps I'll start with you," he sneered, "Let the boy watch." 

In a desperate attempt to shield Davos from the impending horror, you whispered urgently, "Don't look." You braced for the blow, but it never landed. What happened next was a blur of motion – one moment, the guard was poised to strike; the next, he was howling in agony, clutching the bleeding stump where his hand had been. His severed hand, still gripping the sword, lay on the ground beside him. He crumpled to the ground, his cries piercing the air, as chaos erupted around you. 

Clutching Davos tightly, you frantically scanned the crowd, hoping against hope that your father had noticed your absence and come searching for you, perhaps with some of the guards in tow. But amidst the onlookers, there was no sign of the familiar soft purple that marked your family's entourage. 

Then, your gaze locked with the most striking eyes, well eye you had ever seen – a deep, piercing sapphire. The owner of this mesmerizing eye was the most handsome man you had ever encountered, wielding a bloodstained sword. Standing a few paces behind him was a man with distinct Dornish features, garbed in a white cloak. The identity of the younger man became unmistakably clear as you noted his long silver hair and the distinctive eye patch. Prince Aemond Targaryen, your betrothed, stood before you, the very person who had just saved your life. 

Your breath hitched, and your heart raced as Prince Aemond held your gaze. There was a steely intensity in his eye that seemed to harden further when he took in your disheveled state and the small figure of Davos, who now timidly peeked out from behind the folds of your skirt to witness the unfolding scene. 

The wounded guard writhed on the ground, his voice a mix of pain and anger. "My Prince, why?!" he moaned, clutching the bleeding stump of his arm. "That Dornish whore insulted the royal guard! She must be punished." But Prince Aemond's response was non-existent; his intense gaze remained fixed on you, causing your breath to quicken and a familiar warmth started to pool inside your belly.  

For several agonizing seconds, the only sound was the guard's plaintive moans for help. Finally, Prince Aemond broke the charged silence. Tearing his gaze from yours, he delivered a forceful kick to the guard's abdomen, eliciting a sharp cry of pain. 

"Ser Criston," he commanded, and the Dornish-looking man behind him immediately snapped to attention. "Remove this filth from my sight. Make sure he serves as an example to others." 

His voice was deep and resonant, wrapping around you like velvet. Meanwhile, the guard's pleas escalated into a panicked babble as Ser Criston roughly hauled him up by the collar. "No, no, no," the guard stammered desperately. "The whore disrespected me! The boy's a thief! I was only giving them what they deserved. I did nothing wrong!" 

"Watch your tongue, you wretch!" Ser Criston's voice thundered, thick with disdain. "You dare insult a future princess of the realm, the betrothed of Prince Aemond Targaryen!" 

The guard's demeanor crumbled into desperation, his eyes brimming with tears. "I... I didn't know, please! I swear, if I had known, I would have never acted so... Please, forgive me!" His voice cracked with fear and panic. 

Ser Criston started dragging the guard away, and he turned his wild, frightened eyes towards you, pleading. "You have to believe me; I didn't mean any harm by it! I didn't know who you were!" All you could smell was the sour wine and all you could see was Davos scared brown eyes.  

"Wait, Ser Criston." Your attention immediately shifted to Prince Aemond at his commanding tone. He stood, resolute, beside the severed hand, still gripping the sword, exuding an aura of calm authority. His posture was impeccably straight, hands clasped behind his back in a stance of dignified composure. He then turned his gaze towards you, and there was a discernible edge in his voice, a mix of curiosity and challenge, as he spoke. "The affront was directed at my betrothed. It is only fitting that she decides his fate." The words, though spoken casually, carried the weight of a test, his single eye fixed on you with an intensity that belied the nonchalant sneer. 

The weight of every gaze in the vicinity pressed upon you. Davos gazed up with innocent eyes, still clinging to you for safety. Dougas, from his stall, looked on in horror at the unfolding drama, and the crowd around you had swelled, drawn by the prospect of witnessing a spectacle involving a prince of the realm – a rarity in the city. In the distance, you spotted a flash of purple – a sign that your family's retinue had noticed your absence and was making its way toward the commotion. 

Your eyes then fell upon the guard, a pathetic and almost crazed figure now pleading for mercy. You searched within yourself for the compassionate girl who once blushed under Aliandra’s gaze and bawdy laugh and cherished reading beneath the orange blossoms, but she seemed distant now, unreachable in this moment. 

Finally, your gaze met Prince Aemond's. He hadn’t moved, save for an arched eyebrow signaling his anticipation of your decision. "My father taught me the virtue of grace and forgiveness," you began, the guard's eyes lighting up with a flicker of hope. "But this man was ready to subject me to a public beating, to strip me before all an humiliate me. Where I not of my birth, he would have killed both me and this boy for mere sport. He is no better than a dog, and rabid dogs must be put down." Your voice was steady, resolute, as you clutched Davos closer. "Soon, your words will be mine, my prince. 'Fire and Blood.' I trust your judgment in handling him." 

The guard's whimpering grew more desperate at your words. Prince Aemond’s lips then curled into a smile, a grim satisfaction in his eye. "You heard my betrothed. Take him away. I'll attend to him personally later." His command was final, and as the guard was dragged away, you stood firm holding onto Davos and softly stroking his hair, his whimpering had finally abade, but he refused to let go.  

As more gold cloaks began to arrive, they efficiently dispersed the gathering crowd, their presence imposing order on the chaotic scene. Amidst the commotion, you heard your father’s voice growing louder as he approached. Suddenly, a gentle, warm hand tenderly lifted your chin, guiding your gaze upwards. You found yourself looking directly into the eyes of your betrothed, Prince Aemond, the unkown man who had hunted your worst nightmare of dragons and blood had now become your unexpected protector. 

Were you harmed?” he asked with concern. 

He listened as you explained, “He mostly threatened me, but the boy... he was hurt, and he was going to kill him. I couldn't just stand by.” 

“Shhh,” Aemond interjected softly, halting your anxious recounting. “You showed remarkable bravery, more than anyone else here. Standing up for a child facing unjust punishment speaks volumes of your character. Few would have had the courage to intervene, but that boy was fortunate to have your kindness and protection. You've not only honored yourself today but also brought honor to my house, my lady.” 

As he spoke, Aemond gently stroked your cheek, then cupped your face in his hand. Overwhelmed by the tenderness of his touch, you instinctively leaned into his palm, closing your eyes and finding a moment of solace in his comforting gesture. 

Your father then burst into the scene, his expression a mix of worry and confusion, breaking the tender moment. "What happened?" he exclaimed, taking in your disheveled appearance and the tearful child in your arms. He quickly closed the distance and enveloped you in a protective embrace. 

Prince Aemond, who had been tenderly holding your face, discreetly withdrew his hand and coughed, as though to recompose himself amidst the sudden interruption. 

"Guards!" Aemond commanded, addressing the gold cloaks who promptly gathered around him. "Ensure that my betrothed and her family are safely escorted to the Red Keep. Let nothing like this occur again, or you'll join your colleague in the black cells." His voice carried an undeniable authority, prompting the guards to spring into action. 

As two gold cloaks moved to escort you and your father, another reached to take Davos from your arms. "No," you stated firmly, feeling Davos cling tighter to you. The guard hesitated, glancing at Prince Aemond for guidance. With a simple nod from the prince, the guard backed off, allowing you to lift Davos and secure him against you, his skinny legs wrapping around your waist. You whispered soft reassurances to the frightened boy as you began to move away with your father, who bombarded you with a flurry of questions. 

Before you got too far, you turned and called out, "Prince Aemond!" The prince turned, his posture regal, his hands clasped behind his back, his piercing blue eye fixing you with an intense gaze. Gently setting Davos down, you guided his hand into your father's, who received him with a puzzled expression. Then, making your way towards Prince Aemond, you reached into the folds of your bodice and retrieved the beautiful purple and white silk scarf you had discreetly tucked away earlier. 

Approaching the prince, you carefully wrapped the scarf around his bicep. Aemond watched, a look of bewilderment crossing his face as you performed this unexpected gesture. His usual composed demeanor seemed momentarily unsettled by your action, as he gazed at the soft uprple fabric now adorning his arm. "My thanks for saving me, for protecting us. A small token to show you that your bravery won't ever be forgotten," you said earnestly. Prince Aemond held your gaze for a moment longer, then gave a slight nod in acknowledgment before you smiled and made your way back to your father and Davos, taking the latter back into your arms. 

As the gold cloaks ushered you back towards the carriage, your family bombarded you with questions. You responded absently, your mind replaying the scene. Despite the turmoil, a smile found its way to your lips as you remembered the deep flush of red that had colored Prince Aemond's cheeks and ears at your display of gratitude. You held tighter onto little Davos and smiled, perhaps marrying a man like Aemond Targaryen might not be so bad after all.  

Next Chapter

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond #house of the dragon aemond #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond x oc #aemond x fem!reader #hotd fanfic #hotd #hurt/comfort #angst #fanfic #fanfiction

[sometipsygnostalgic]

The WORST Persona Music

Crossposted from Reddit. Thankfully all the videos embedded properly on Tumblr, so you can have a live slug reaction to them.

Castle - Persona 4

The dungeon music from Persona 4 is hit and miss. The ones in the endgame are excellent, but the first few dungeons have.... really annoying repetitive music.

This track, Castle, from Yukiko's dungeon has a really nice quiet bit which is surrounded by agonizing repetitive synth noise.

The theme for Kanji's dungeon, Sauna, is also really annoying but not as grating to me. It at least feels like it should be suffocating, rather than accidentally being so.

Band song - Persona 4 Golden (Japanese version)

I think there are worse songs in the Persona 4 saga, and all of them are in the dancing games, but what makes this one egregious is you're pulled out of your normal activities to have this band meet moment, and Rise's singing isn't even that great. I do enjoy Laura Bailey's performance, but they didn't do her japanese actress much of a service. It sounds very out of tune.

Mementos - Persona 5

See, I actually like the Mementos more than the Tartarus theme. However... Tartarus's theme at least has the decency to evolve over time. Mementos's just stays like this forever in the original persona 5.

Persona 5 The Royal fixed this by making Mementos's theme evolve. I like Mementos's music in The Royal SIGNIFICANTLY MORE than Tartarus's theme in P3 Reload which drove me mildly insane by the end. It's too short.

Burning Men's Souls - Persona Trinity Soul

The funny part is that there isn't anything wrong with how this track SOUNDS. It's COMPLETLEY fine and a really good piece of music.

What's wrong is the lyrics. Oh dear god. It reminds me of the raps from Adventure Time's episode Son of Rap Bear.

"CHECK IT OUT, IM IN THE HOUSE LIKE CARPET!"

And with that, we can move onto the actually bad songs!

Shadow World (De De Mouse Remix) - Persona 4 Dancing

I have a special hatred for the persona dancing songs that are "remixes" of original songs that just slather another track on top of them. They all seem to be too busy and have the worst charting. Some of them work, like P3D's "Memories of You" Meguro Remix, but... Shadow World De De Mouse Remix doesn't even have any DANCING IN IT! How are you supposed to play to this monstrosity? It has a crappy video behind it instead. 0 out of 10 effort.

Mass Destruction (Remix) - Persona 3 Dancing

I am obsessed with this song. While most bad tracks have the reaction of "oh, I don't want to listen to that one again", this one? It is a masterpiece. Someone really thought that having epic death guitar behind Mass Destruction would make for a good dancing track.

The more you watch this video the more things wrong with it you find. The notes are so intense and almost impossible to hit, but they barely match the music at all. Nothing can path this atrocity. Ken tries dancing to this theme for about 0.5 seconds before he gives up and mashes his stick like an air guitar, and dances to some completely different song. By the end of it, the song has become keyboard mashing. You finish it. Finally you can breath.

I spent so much time trying to king crazy this song. Mass Destruction Remix has taken over my life. I listen to it again today. I end up making this post just so I can talk about it. Don't play Persona 3 Dancing. It will destroy you. All will submit to Mass Destruction Remix.

#persona #persona 3 #persona 5 #persona 3 dancing #persona 4 #persona 4 dancing #Youtube #p5d hasnt made it here on account of having barely any remixes to begin with #so it doesnt have a bunch of monstrosities like p3d and p4d

[disappointing-my-kid]

So im gonna continue this prompt about Luigi being captured by one of Bowsers kids. Which i might as well just say Jr. cause hes the only one i could even have a chance of writing. There had been so many typos and errors in that like yall r brave and way stronger than I for finishing it. I wont write any spoilers for the first post up here but I doubt you will need to read the first one to keep up with this one.

Here you go @secretlyacantankerousseawhich @rfts10919 @tsukihimeyfan I have continued the post! Though this one is rather short and idk how well it’s written cause it’s 1am and I didn’t proof read lmao. Enjoy ya goobers

Slowly Luigi started to come back to the waking world. Eyes burst open and he snaps into a sitting position with a gasp. Instantly regretting it as his ribs scream in pain. He places one hand down to hold himself up and one gently on his middle. Eyes screwed shut as he sucks a breath in thru his teeth. He sits up as straight as he can to try and take pressure off his definitely broken ribs. Slowly he steadies out his uneven breathing and gently tries to relax forward into a comfortable sitting position. The moment the pain isn’t all he can think about he’s forced to remember the events that lead him here. Dressing up as the Princess, getting captured, being found out. His hand grips the sheets and he remembers Bowser punching him. Then his hand starts to tremble as the memory of being picked up. Then the pain. The thought of being crushed to death. The fear of never seeing his brother again. Realisation that he almost died hits him like a truck. He.. he almost died. Tears prick the corners of his eyes as a breathy laugh escapes him. He pulls his knees up as he moves his hand to his face. Another laugh escapes him as he curls in on himself. Tears started to fall freely as his body begins to tremor. Squeezing his eyes shut he quietly starts to sob. Hes going to die here. Bowser is going to kill him and hes going to die. Never to see his home, his friends, his brother. Nothing. His hand moves from his face to grasp his hair, slightly pulling on it.

Then he hears a door and freezes. His entire body going rigid, eyes snapping open once again. His breath quickens as he slowly looks up to see who entered the room. Then he sees them. Slowly his eyes scan their form, rising up till they finally make eye contact. Luigi’s eyes widening in horror. It was none other than the Koopa King himself, Bowser. Time froze as neither moved. Then Bowser lifted his hand and started to say something. He was cut off before he could get a single word out by Luigi’s scream. Luigi in his panic started to scramble backwards away from the new arrival. Breathing becoming sporadic as he ignored his aching body and moved to get away. Then he fell off the bed onto the floor.

Bowser rushed over to see if the man was alright. The moment he rounded the bed and came back into Luigi’s field of view set the man in motion again. He groaned as he tried to push himself off the floor. But froze up upon meeting Bowser’s gaze again. His face twisted in fear and pain. Only wishing to help Bowser once again reached out but this only set the smaller man off again. “no no no no no no” Luigi quickly tried to get away but ended up backing himself into a corner, between the wall and a side table. The moment his back met the wall he tensed. Breathing picking up as he tried to push himself into the wall, as if he would just slip through it. Not knowing what else to do Bowser once again tried to reach for the human. “no please dont please im sorry im sorry” luigi repeated. Luigi then pulled his legs up and turned his head away, trying to get even further away. Hyperventilating as his gaze met Bowser’s. Quickly he shut his eyes and waiting for the final blow. Only movement he made was from his sobs shaking his body.

Bowser stood frozen. Not knowing what to do. The longer he watched the more it made his heart ache. Sure he was fear and most of the time he enjoyed people cower but this. No this was different. He didn’t mean to hurt him like this. His anger just got the better of him and the human was just so fragile. He looked at his hands in horror at the idea of actually killing someone. They began to tremble. He was a monster. A- he was brought back to reality, eyes widening, as he heard Luigi begin to repeat ‘im sorry’ and ‘please don’t hurt me’ over and over. When he looked up from his hands the image he was met with took his breath away. He was curled into a ball with his hands gripping his hair like a life line. He did this. This was his fault and here he was making it worse. A monster. The words once again rang into his ears. He remembered Peach calling him that. Mario calling him that. Even some of his own subjects had said it. He never let it bother him before. But here and now. Looking at the broken, mangled man before him. He knew they had been right. He truly was a monster.

#bowuigi #Luigi #bowser #angst #uhhh #liz writes #my writing #I forgot how to tag again

[voidselfshipp]

Too Sweet

Cw:mentions of blood,implications of Gore,slaughter, war, mania attacks + ptsd flashbacks.

Summary: during one of their sieges, The Mechanisms split off to take care of the occupying forces of King Cole's army. One of them gets too close to Jerico and Tim sees red.

>no rbs, please.

Adrenaline surged through tims body as he laid there hands dripping with blood, a soldier dead before him.

His body shakes a manic grin on his face as he looks at the bloody corpse, laugh starting to echo from his throat. The world around him is a blurr,his eyes are wide and his pupils are small dots in his gorgeous brown iris.

With shaking hands, he lets go of his victims throat-- I told you not to touch her--He muttered with a shaky unstable voice,laughter soon leaves him.

"Thats- thats what he gets- thats what they get for- for touching her! Haha! Nobody touches my- My girlf- my friend" he thinks, slowly straightening up from his half bowed position.

--Hah-- He scoffs, smoothing his beautiful brown curly hair with his bloodstained hand-- hah, wanker...you really thought...you could hurt her

Around him the world is Fire,burning and crumbling buildings, dead bodies all around, vehicles no more than scrap and black smoke clouds rising from the pyres up to the Sky

The Mechanisms had come here to fight against an occupying force, one of the soldiers tried to stab Jerico in the neck...and Tim saw red and ripped the soldier appart with hands and teeth.

--Tim...--calls out jerico,lowering her sniper rifle. She grabs one of his hands Gently,it smothers with blood-- Tim im okay

He turns to her,eyes still wide and fingers twitching-- Doll....doll-- he throws himself at her,cupping her cheeks and looking for any scratches--Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do- do I need to call Marius?! Please tell me youre okay- i cant- I cant lose you,I cant lose you like bertie...!

She takes his wrists and says--Tim, Tim its okay im okay,im safe

Tims eyes look around her face and body,his hands pressing against her waist,her shoulders and her hips,staining her clothes with crimson sploches.

--Its okay,im not hurt,you saved me--She cooed, bringing Him in for a tight hug. His forehead falls limply on her shoulder as she strokes up and down his spine.

A shaky breath leaves him, his twitching hands unsure where to rest. Even when he tries he accidentally tugs at her clothes,gasping for air.

--I cant lose you,I cant lose you-- He whispers,tears threatening to spill-- dont die- please dont die...dont die on me I cant-- with a quivering Lower lip-- I cant- I love you so much, please dont leave me...dont leave me forever

His words take her by surprise,she squeezes him into a tight hug and his hands finally settle on her Lower back--I cant live without you--He mutters, hot tears falling down his face and onto the exposed shoulder of his companion.

--Easy,Tim. You saved me, see? 'M okay-- she promised-- see? Im alright --He nodds weakly-- c'mon lets go back to the ship

Trying to tug him along, he stops her by not moving and squeezing her. Shes quick go get the memo and nodds.

--Oooooor we can stay a little longer, thats alright too--She added, understanding he needs more time.

Both stand there among the rubble of the crumbling,blazen And charcoal blackened city. Civilian,soldier and resistance laid dead across the floor with blood and ash mixed into a paste of death, they only Hear the distant Shouts of the ongoing battle,the crackling of the pyres anf the ocassional crumble of debries.

Tim can only concentrate on that orchestra of destruction and Demise,the images of Berties death passing through his head over and over again. Its vivid,its Like hes there again holding his best friend in his arms.

--It can't be said I'm an early bird--She sings softly--It's ten o'clock before I say a word

Baby, I can never tell

How do you sleep so well

It catches tims attention, slowly bringing him back to earth,to present time,to safety.

--You keep tellin' me to live right

To go to bed before the daylight

But then you wake up for the sunrise

You know you don't gotta pretend

Baby, now and then-- jerico puts her hands on his biceps and rocks Him side to side softly.

Silken voice fills his ears and eases his heart and mind,it wraps around his soul like a blanket.

--Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake

Smellin' like a bonfire, lost in a haze?-- she continues and he slowly humms along--

If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great

But while in this world

A shaky sigh leaves him,his body relaxing and laying on her for support-- I think I'll take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three-- both entone,tims voice slowly gaining more strength---

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me

I take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

She smiles and he joins In with those side to side movements. One hand on her waist and the other holding hers,fingers entwined as if both were dancing.

--You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me-- He sings at her, as if he didnt deserve this softness.

He pulls her to waltz,turning slowly. Tim hasnt moved his head and he'd rather not, he feels safe in her embrace.

The world still burns around them with the ash falling like a tragic snowfall, the air smells of smoke and gunpowder.

--I aim low

I aim true and the ground is where I go --He takes the lead,singing to her,meaning the words--

I work late where I'm free from the phone

And the job gets done

But you worry some, I know

But who wants to live forever, babe?

You treat your mouth as if it's heaven's gate

The rest of you like you're the TSA

I wish I could go along

Babe, don't get me wrong

His voice gets flirty again as it usually is, she feels him smile against her skin and his head rises just enough so their eyes meet.

They spend a few more minutes dancing and singing softly. When he feels better and back with his boots on the ground, he looks at her and says--C'mon,lets go back before the guys freak out

And leading her by the hand they return to the Aurora. The Group asked if everything is okay and why they took so long to get back, and jer just dismisses it.

Nobody questions why Tim leads jeri to the showers, or why they spend so much time in there.

She scrubbs off the blood from his fingers,the same song they were singing now playing from a radio she took into the room.

《You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain

Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape

If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait

Until that day》

He watches her with tired eyes--I- you dont gotta do it...

--Its okay,I want to take care of you--She answers, taking his still bloody hands and kissing his knuckles.

Tim sighs under his breath and softly says--I dont...I dont deserve it

--Yes you do,dont say that.

In silence he lets her scrub off the blood from his hands and his mouth,then comb the hair products on his brown locks that now stick to his face

《I'd rather take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me

I take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me》

His hands rest on her waist and he helps her out a little,as much as his shaken up nervous system could allow.

--Sorry...sorry I cant be of no more help-- He mutters,voice weak and tired.

Jeri shakes her head-- Dont be,its okay

After the shower they change into something more comfortable, casual "at home" clothes to unwind. Then,they go to the 'livingroom' of the ship where everyone was.

Its not only so everyone could take stock of one another to make sure nobody was missing so it calmed their anxiety, but also a way to make everyone unwind and feel safe.

Merchant has Tim leaning on her shoulder,drifting off to sleep while she crochets Him a small headband with a sprout growing out of It

Nastya is playing her violin, the toy soldier and Ivy play checkers. Raphaella and Ashes are leaning on one another on another couch,asleep. Meanwhile,Marius, brian and Jhonny are playing poker.

Its good to see Tim resting up and feeling better, he was a very light sleeper and the few things that couldnt wake him up was Nastya's violin,quiet chatter and the purr of the octokittens.

Like that,the crew settles down and relaxes after a long day of slaughter.

#platonic f/o: gunpowder Tim #t.m (band) s/i #cw blood #tw blood #tw fire mentions #cw fire mentions #tw mania #cw mania #cw flashback #tw flashback #ask to tag #cw feelings of unworthiness #tw feelings of unworthiness #tw feelings of unworthyness #cw feelings of unworthyness

[thekaijudude]

I have a fair few questions for tonight, but they all boil down into one: What do you think of the AI-generated versions of the Godzilla fan songs I’ve been working on since yesterday? I sent you both the lyrics and the songs themselves, for comparison (also, I did write the lyrics myself: they are inspired by other AI-generated Godzilla songs, but they’re still mostly hand-written by me.)

Anyway, onto the questions I have:

—1: Based on its lyrics, do you think that the song “Rise of Godzilla” could be used to describe a version of Godzilla who started off as being something like Godzilla Ultima but turned into a version more akin to the Monsterverse Godzilla?

—2: Based on its lyrics, do you think that the song “The Praetorian, Qimaz” could be used to describe a version of King Ghidorah that could be described as similar to an amalgamation of the Showa and Monsterverse takes on King Ghidorah?

—3: Based on its lyrics, do you think that the song “Reign of Gojirin” could be used to describe Gojirin (AKA a female of Godzilla’s species with the fighting-style of the Final Wars Godzilla)?

—4: Based on its lyrics, do you think that the song “Brother to the King” could be used to describe Titanus Finago (AKA a version of Godzilla that, for all intents and purposes, is the Monsterverse Godzilla yet is not the last of his kind and shares a deep bond with another version of Godzilla)?

—5: In regards to all 5 songs, what do you think I could do to improve them (beyond just making them without the help of AI)?

Also, I know we said we wouldn’t talk about art anymore, but I figured this was different and to at least try it.

Im probably the wrong person to ask this question to cause I dont really listen to much music irl (even if I do, its mostly Anime, Ultraman and KR stuff) so I dont think i'll be able to appreciate nor answer this line of specific questions

Thanks for the question!

#godzilla #asks

[mazedthoughtss]

I sit back at times, only to relax the mind.

Lately I’ve been losing sleep, damn my dreams are hard to find.

If I just calculate, maybe I can recreate.

Days will shift slowly to the end, bout to relocate.

Up onto the island.

Its private, I took a liking.

Despite everything from the past the future is always blinding.

Even when the sun is rising, my soul just gets colder.

Im climbing up to the summit, a ghost who’s never bothered.

But, mist seeps deeply.

My vision is getting blurry.

I can’t see, nor even reach the final destination.

I step with hesitation, got to figure what I need.

Additional remedies, for the potions that I seek.

Sungod won’t take defeat, im floating up on my wave.

Crowned king of the sea, like a tide.

Soon I will fade.

Take a breath gently.

Don’t cry, when you miss me.

I fly, off so swiftly.

No lies, they always feel me.

[anemorias]

Heya, I absolutely love your work, especially how well you write the characters! The characters really feel like themselves ( a little more so than what I've seen around).

Sooo, I'm here to request! c:

Could I get some fluffy hc's about a g/n reader asking Genshin character(s) out on their first date with eachother? As for which characters, anything works, but at least add Razor.

genshin headcanon  ╱ asking them out

genshin characters x gn!reader

characters include: bennett, razor, chongyun, gorou, venti

ratings: general audience

cw: none whatsoever, unless maybe second-hand embarrassment and tooth-rotting fluff

a/n: thank you so much anon that makes me so happy aaa :( i’m always scared to make mistakes with them but!! that’s good eep,, this one looks fun to write! i wanted to do something with the sweet short kings, so it’s a great opportunity! i turned it around for bennett because nervous benny is really cute, i hope you don’t mind! also, im very sorry it took me this long to finally post it, writer’s block was being a bitch-

° ｡ bennett

he’s nervous. god, he’s so nervous, he can’t even believe he’s about to do this. you went on an adventure — just the both of you, no team, and his bad luck has caused him to scrape his knee against a rock, right when he was about to ask you out.

now, the rain is pouring and you’ve taken shelter in a little cave, soaked and slightly shivering.

he’s used his pyro vision to light a fire and, although it implied accidentally setting his left glove on fire, it’s worth it because now you’re warm, and the tremors in his legs isn’t caused by the cold, but by his anxiety.

he tries to engage in conversation a few times:

“hey, uh—”

“so, you know—”

every time, the rumble of an angry sky prevents him from spilling his guts. the third time, you’re the one interrupting him, by accident; he’s bleeding, and you want to tend to the wound.

finally, it’s while you stinging him with antiseptic that he lets everything out, in a single breath:

“do you want to grab dinner with me tonight? as in— as in just you and me!”

and, well, you could’ve misunderstood, but his cheeks are flaming hot, and you’re quite sure there’s smoke rising from his reddened ears.

he’s scratching the back of his head when you stay silent, already accepting defeat; bennett has never been one to fight the odds, what with his constant streaks of bad luck.

just as he’s about to retract the offer, you grab his hands, your fingers slightly shaking. you give him a nod, frantic, and see the most beautiful smile blooming on his lips.

“hah! really? well, i think i might be lucky, after all!”

° ｡ razor

the problem with razor isn’t to ask him out, but to make him understand what you mean. he’s not used to humans in general, and most likely confuses the fluttering feeling in his chest as hunger; you need to be patient with him.

you ask him after a meal — his puppy-paw hash browns, so good it makes the both of you feel tingly. rather than liquid courage, you took the solid form, and now it’s his hand that you cradle.

razor is used to physical intimacy, cold nights spent curled up against his pack. but when you touch him, it’s different. it’s warm and familiar and, always drawn on instinct, he tends to lean into it.

which is why his hand in yours ends up with him half onto your lap, idly playing with your fingers while you’re talking to him.

he doesn’t quite understand it, but don’t get him wrong — he’s willing to learn.

“a… date, you say. you, and me, alone like now, but different. it’s difficult.”

he rubs his cheek against your stomach, pondering, and huffs a little; not understanding you always makes him a little bit upset, more so than when he can’t grasp lisa’s intent.

“okay. teach me.”

it’s a clumsy start and a bumpy road, but that doesn’t keep him from being weirdly impatient.

° ｡ chongyun

he’s far from a confident boy, and used to bury his feelings deep inside lest his positive energy gets out of control. as such, chongyun is prone to doubt — not necessarily you, of course, but most of the strokes of luck that come his way. it doesn’t help that xingqiu teases him on a daily basis.

so it comes as no surprise when you ask him out and he doesn’t understand; his brain can’t exactly fathom the concept of a date, especially if you’re the one asking him.

his first reflex is to laugh it off — “don’t tease me, that’s so mean!” but there’s something hollow behind it, his smile forced and lip bitten red.

however, you know him, you’re used to him. so the reassurance you gently whisper, hand ghosting over his, comes naturally.

“i’m being serious. you’re gonna hurt my feelings, you know?”

and, ah, it’s all in good fun, a sweet grin and the joke written all over your face; his warms up so quickly it almost makes him dizzy, and the hand he raises to cover it does nothing to help his case.

“ah.. in that case, i guess…”

you squeeze his wrist, full of patience and affection; he’ll give it all back at some point, and then some.

° ｡ gorou

although his instincts are good, sharp even — he doesn’t see it coming. his head has been full of the war and the loss of his friends, heart heavy and eyes distant.

you use that as an excuse, not brave enough to confess out of the blue. but you need to make your motive clear, lest he thinks you’re just distracting him from his duties.

you coax him out of his daze on a warm afternoon, the sun slowly setting but still heating your faces. your fingers are intertwined — he insisted on holding your hand because it “made him feel better”, and his thumb is slowly rubbing the back, absent-minded and comfortable.

you’re not as anxious as you thought you’d be, perhaps because his simple presence soothes your nerves. when the wind picks up, you breathe out the question, low and carried by the breeze.

surprisingly, he blushes; his tail wags, slow but unsteady, and the ghost of his thumb over your hand falters. he’s delighted, ears perked up — but he needs to confirm something.

“you mean… just the two of us, right? and, uh, not like friends.”

the nod is soft but clear, and he leaps in your arms to press the sweetest kiss on your cheek, followed by a small bite and a tender lick.

he kisses both your hands when you get up, and takes you on the beach on yashiori island.

° ｡ venti

he’s playing you a song when you ask him. the place is calm, comfortable and it all feels so peaceful that the words naturally spill from your lips.

even if he giggles, there’s a wicked glint in his eyes and he lets the wind carry him until he’s all up in your space, lips stretched on a teasing smirk.

“oh? you want to take me somewhere? what for, i wonder…”

he knows, probably has for the longest time. you’re not the most discreet person, and he tends to pick up on tell-tale signs; but he decided to keep quiet, give you the time to collect your thoughts and feelings.

even now, he can’t resist the need to taunt you, deft fingers ghosting over your arms, going up your face to squeeze your cheek.

“well, aren’t you adorable, all red and so, so warm?”

he’s a god, and this is where you feel it. wind slipping through your clothes, holding you so tenderly you can’t feel your own bones. he watches over you, not quite touching the ground.

his hand comes up your chin, two fingers holding it in place — you’re transfixed, the music still clear in your head.

he kisses you, and whispers tiny promises between your lips. “of course, my sweet warrior. anything for you.”

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #bennett x reader #razor x reader #chongyun x reader #gorou x reader #venti x reader #bennett #razor #chongyun #gorou #venti #gender neutral reader #genshin x you

[hanazuma-inactive]

Hi, I love your writings ❤. I really enjoy reading them.

Um, can I request Oikawa Tooru with virgin!reader who is (sub, bottom); (praise kink, but doesn't know he has and kinda shy when he knows it); (has shy, soft, and really submissive personality) (3rd year student) ? Reader with Oikawa is a couple of lover, and a roommate. They usually do some cuddles in their bedroom that always started with Oikawa teasing the reader. One day, when cuddling, Oikawa asked reader if he wants to do something more intimate than cuddling and really feels good.

Sorry if that is too much. Thank you

king and his prince, (nsfw) oikawa x bottom!reader

pronouns: he/him (FEMALE ORIENTED DNI!!)

warnings: creampie, praise kink! flirty oikawa

a/n: oikawa is probs my least favorite character in haikyuu, im pretty sure i hated him at one point cuz of his personality. i later found out from many website i am unfortunately a oikawa kinnie (even tho i dont really think so but idk) explains all the self hatred lmao, again for the anon that requested it im sorry for the bad quality cuz i stayed up to write this at 6 am so undoubtedly there will be some mistakes

:(

_____

"y/n, my dear prince~ doesn't it feel good like this?"

"t-tooru…it feels good, i-it really does!" you said, messy hair and looking directly at your boyfriend.

"you look so beautiful when you enjoy it, keep up that pretty face won't you?"

oikawa tooru was too popular for your comfort at school. everyone liked him and they all had a good reason to, and that doesn't make you any different. you were shy and didn't catch a lot of attention so you were incredibly surprised that someone as popular as oikawa even wanted to talk to you.

you were smart and in fact smart enough to compete with oikawa. in fact the first time you caught his attention was when you corrected an answer, making him embarrassed in front of the class. he wanted to "settle this" only to find you harmless. later on he talked to you more and more. the contrast of personality of you two complimented each other pretty well. a cocky bastard who doesn't know how to shut up and a shy boy who likes to listen. inevitably the two of you grew closer as friends, so much to a point where you moved into the same apartment unit.

you didn't mind getting closer to oikawa, emotionally or physically with him being your crush and all so this was pretty much what you wanted, you just didn't think he would be the one to offer instead. being enclosed in a space together made oikawa get a lot more comfortable with you. random hugs here and there, maybe a little head pat, and sometimes leaning on each other's shoulders. it was practically a dream come true and you didn't think this could possibly get better until the man pulled something else out his sleeves.

one day you fell asleep watching the tv in the living room. the weather was a little chilly so falling asleep without a blanket near you wasn't the best idea. oikawa came home to find you shivering in your sleep so of course like the genius he is, he didn't decide to throw a blanket or carry you back into your bedroom and instead cuddled with you on the couch, leaving you wrapped around his arms basically unable to move when you woke up.

both of you would be lying if you said you didn't enjoy it. therefore, this whole cuddling session became a regular thing between you two. oikawa being the big spoon and you being the small one. it went on for a while until both of you realized this might not have been the most normal thing that "friends" did. at this point you're pretty sure oikawa had feelings for you, or else he wouldn't have done a lot of the things he has. after a lot of urging from his friends, he finally decided to confess to you. despite him being the playboy he is, he was quite nervous this time, due to the fact that he had to say it to someone he actually has feelings for. so just like that, the relationship between you two finally became official.

another day you guys during your normal cuddling session, oikawa proposed an interesting idea, and to be honest you saw this coming.

"babeeeee, why don't we try something more interesting this time~?" oikawa said, staring at you with his arms around you.

you knew exactly what oikawa meant, you weren't stupid, but you know that he likes it when you act all innocent so you decided to do just that.

"hm? what do you mean tooru-kun? i don't think i understand?"

"oh…baby boy i know you know what i mean alright~" just as he said that the brown haired man grabbed you in for a kiss.

your tongues started to intertwine immediately. this was very much oikawa's style, aggressive and dominant, but soft and caring when he wanted to. the kiss was generally messy but you could tell that oikawa was putting effort into this with all his tiny and intricate movements. a string of saliva connected you after he broke the kiss. leaving you panting and gasping for air while he's on the other side with a sly grin.

"you ready for the next part now?"

"t-there's more ah-!" you gasped as your boyfriend pulled down your pants at once, leaving your hard cock to bounce out.

"of course there is~ we have to tend to this guy don't we?" he said, holding your dick and positioning himself to suck your dick.

yet again attacked by oikawa's mouth you just couldn't keep it for long anymore. it's like his mouth is heaven made or something and it will continue to turn you on and make you cum without fail.

"a-ah! tooru..i'm gonna cum! mmghm!" you said, shooting all your load straight into your boyfriend's mouth, which of course he gladly swallowed right after.

"t-that's it right? i don't think i'll be able to handle more, you know…" you said out of both fear and excitement.

however all you got in response was a smirk from oikawa as he slid off his shirt to reveal his perfectly toned abs.

"almost done, pretty boy."

something about that word, made your half flaccid cock immediately rise up and become as hard as your boyfriends again.

"heh? what a strange reaction, could this mean…" oikawa leaned in closer, enough so that all the hair near your ears would stand up and said,

"my prince likes to be praised?"

you've heard about this so-called praise kink before but didn't exactly think you'd be into it this much. your face turned redder than they already are and you just wanted to cover your face and run away.

"aw, c'mon, it's cute! and if you like it-' oikawa said, spreading your legs open, exposing your asshole and angling his cock head to the entrance of it.

"i might just praise you a little more than usual, hm?"

your boyfriend was hot but this was undoubtedly the most attractive he's ever been. towered over you whispering praises in your ear as he prepared you with his fingers for something bigger that's about to come next. without a warning oikawa began to inch his way into your ass, moving and adjusting his cock to fit your tight asshole.

"you're taking me so well baby...keep doing just that alright? i know you're so good for me aren't you?" oikawa said, leaning closer at you.

at a loss for words due to how flustered you are, you could only give your boyfriend a little nod and covered your face with your arms while flashing a little red on your cheeks once again.

"y/n, my dear prince~ doesn't it feel good like this?"

"t-tooru…it feels good, i-it really does!" you said, messy hair and looking directly at your boyfriend.

"you look so beautiful when you enjoy it, keep up that pretty face won't you?"

the praises that he showered you with were too much. you were already so sensitive since it was your first time and all. now with all these lustful words turning you on, you couldn't hold it in anymore and came onto your stomach while your boyfriend continued to make slow but deep thrusts onto your prostate.

your head was still a little fuzzy but you could still feel your boyfriend jerking his hips faster and faster, ending with a long thrusts at the end which wasn't hard to assume that your boyfriend came inside you, just like how you wanted it. before passing out from bliss, a hand cupped your cheek followed with a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"you did so well baby…i know you're tired so rest now, i'll be here alright."

you couldn't be more happy, with such a loving and caring boyfriend. that being said, you fell into his arms once again and slipped into your dreams even thought they have already become reality.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x male reader smut #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #hq x reader smut #hq x male reader #hq x male reader smut #hq smut #oikawa #tooru oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa headcanons #oikawa x reader smut #oikawa x male reader #oikawa x male reader smut #haikyuu oikawa #hq oikawa #oikawa smut

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

Rivalry Put To Rest

Pairing - Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Warnings - Arranged marriages (non of that under age like child marriages though fuck that yuck, these are obviously of age adults i just really wanna make that clear jesus), praise kink, modern AU, just lovely soft sex with my favorite man :'^).

Word Count - 2.4k

Other Comments - Dude it’s been so long since ive actually written anything im so sorry. But i couldn't resist writing this. I know i promised xiao but he will come in time. This is a little bit of a slow burn, or at least the sex doesnt start right away lol i want this to be nice and soft. P.s. youre on birth control so dont worry about no condom lol.

You did not like this idea. Why your parents were still forcing you into this was beyond you seeing as how you were a fully grown ass adult. You just couldn’t stomach the disappointment you would be seen as in their eyes. You were the daughter to the CEO of one of the most well known Law Firms in Teyvat. Zhongli was the son of another CEO who controlled your Rival company. Yours's and his parents wanted to finally settle the bad blood between the firms by having the two of you get married. You knew damn well the benefits of doing this was, god forbid if your Fathers firm went underwater, you would still be secure with Zhongli as your husband.

It’s not that you didn’t like Zhongli, and he certainly was not ugly; you just couldn’t stand your freedom to choose who you really wanted to marry being ripped from you. It was non negotiable though, so you had to go through with it. Zhongli didn’t seem to mind at all, he thoroughly enjoyed his very brief moments he had with you before, and was frankly excited to get more of those moments. He just hoped you didn’t resent him or blame him for this.

You both of course had an extravagant wedding, why would you not when your family was one of the wealthiest in Teyvat. You were grateful to your parents for letting you invite a few of your friends, and it seemed Zhongli had done the same. There was almost like a crowd formed around you two at the after party, you talking to your friends, and him with his. Zhongli had offered you his arm to hold onto, but you politely declined, feeling that even just holding his arm was too intimate for you.

“Already trouble in paradise for the two lovebirds?” One of Zhongli’s friends had chuckled, a red head with a stupidly smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as you shot a look at him. Your friend Ningguang frowned, turning to look at your now husband.

“Control your dog, Mr. Zhongli.” You let out a chuckle, when you heard Zhongli’s friend scoff.

After a while, it was customary for the newlyweds to go on their honeymoon; so after a couple of hours you had to bid farewell to your friends and family. You approached the jet the two of you would be taking, with Zhongli carrying the luggage not far behind. You went ahead and boarded, while your new husband spoke with the pilot and the crew, sighing to yourself.

“Come on (y/n) suck it up, this honeymoon will be over sooner than you know it.” You mumbled to yourself, settling into the high class jet.

“Did you say something (y/n)?” You jumped, not expecting to hear Zhongli’s voice. “Ah.. My apologies, I did not mean to startle you.” You sighed and shook your head, waiving your hand to dismiss the apology.

“You’re fine Zhongli, I’m just… Nervous is all.” He hummed in response, nodding as he settled himself into the jet.

“I understand (y/n), I really do apologize about this being thrusted into your lap. I know this isn’t the ideal circumstances for a young woman to go through.” You nodded, glad that he understood your hesitance to the situation. Zhongli really wasn’t a bad guy.

“It’s really not your fault Zhongli, I understand you probably had no more say in it than I.” You gave him a reassuring smile, the first genuine smile to grace his line of sight. Without noticing he found himself smiling back, relieved that you didn’t see him with any contempt. A comfortable silence settled, as the jet took off towards your destination.

It wasn’t a long flight, and along the way you were able to make small talk, slowly learning more about Zhongli. After two short hours, you felt the jet jump slightly against the ground before steadying itself on the runway. After a few more moments, you both departed, Zhongli once again handling the luggage, leaving your side to retrieve it.

Before you knew it, you were at the house you would be staying at for your honeymoon. It sat on a beautiful beach side shore, with a large open patio looking out over the ocean. By the time you guys had arrived it was already around 10:00 o’clock at night, so the crescent moon was high in the sky as you both stepped out onto the patio. The moon and stars gleamed against the inky black water, with the rhythmic beating of the waves lulling you both into a comfortable silence. You stood next to your husband and finally for the first time that night, actually took in his face.

The light of the scenery exposed the beauty Zhongli held in his face, the pale light bouncing off his cheekbones and illuminating his golden irises as he looked out over the sea. He must’ve felt you staring because moments later those golden eyes were locked on yours.

“Do you like the scenery (y/n)?” You gave a quick nod before ducking away from his gaze, a red flush rising to your face. You heard him chuckle for a moment before shifting.

“I know what is customary to happen on our honeymoon, and I do not want you to feel pressured to fulfill that part of our relationship.” You flushed even more as you suddenly found the pattern of the wood to be very interesting. You had completely forgot that sex was usually something people did on honeymoons. It seemed normal, because generally the people who get married have had a relationship before this so nothing felt awkward about the topic. Obviously that wasn't the case in this situation, but there was something in you that kind of wanted to. Something in you that felt comfortable enough with him to do it, you already trusted him which shocked you. What if he wasn’t though? What if he was uncomfortable with the thought of having sex with you right now which is why he brought it up so suddenly?

“Thank you Zhongli, you’re too kind. You’ve truly been so understanding through this entire thing.” You looked back up to him finally, and found a gentle smile on his face. He nodded and hummed before turning back to the house.

“We should probably get to bed, it’s already fairly late.” You nodded, pulling out your phone to check the time. You both walked about into the house together. “There is another room down the hall from the master bedroom if you don’t want to sleep in the same bed. It’s smaller so I could always take it.” There he goes, being considerate and kind; handling your thoughts and feelings like glass that would break any second. You remained silent for a moment contemplating on what he had said, before gently shaking your head.

“No, no, it’s fine. I want to share the bed with you.” You smiled up at him, and he looked almost surprised with your willingness, but the shock didn’t last for long before he smiled back at you and nodded; offering you his arm to hold on to, which you shakily took. You both reached the bedroom, where he had placed all of your guy's luggage before letting you go to retrieve your sleeping clothes as he did the same. You went into the bathroom, to give yourself and him some privacy before slowly re-entering. Zhongli was in a pair of brown silk pants with golden accents and a black short sleeve shirt. Your eyes met each other, and Zhongli smiled when he saw you.

“I know that these were unideal circumstances to get married, but I’m happy it is you who is my spouse. I can only hope you think the same of me, and that at some point you can genuinely feel connected to me.” You blushed as he said this, genuinely taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. You feel bad for dreading and almost resenting Zhongli when you were first notified about the engagement, once finding out just how compassionate and caring the man before you was. Slowly, the two of you made your way into the large king sized bed. There was a large gap between the two of you, large enough to comfortably fit another person. Your mind raced a mile a minute trying to decide whether or not you should scoot in a little closer to the man next to you.

And so you did, without taking another moment to think about it you shifted closer to Zhongli until your side gently pressed against his. You felt Zhongli stiffen beside you for a brief moment, and for a split second you regretted scooting in; that was until you felt him roll over onto his side and wrap a strong arm around your torso. You could really take in Zhongli’s scent like this and you noticed that he smelled like amber rum, chestnuts, and a hint of vanilla. It wrapped you in a warmth that lulled you into a comforting silence as the two of you laid together like this.

You rolled onto your side, letting Zhongli’s arm now rest against your waist. Your noses were almost touching as the two of you stared into each other's eyes. You saw his eyes dart down to your lips for the briefest of seconds, letting yourself do the same.

“Zhongli…” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “Can I kiss you?” You saw Zhongli’s eyes widen as his gorgeous eyes met yours, not expecting you to ask him that.

“I would love nothing more… Darling.” You flushed at the mild pet name, before softly placing your lips onto his. It felt as time skidded to a halt, as the two of you moved against each other with the grace of a slow dance. Soon enough it became heated, as you changed positions and straddled his hips. You could feel his boner pressing against you through his pants, and it made warmth bloom in your chest.

“You really want to do this right? You don’t feel pressured my dear?” You smiled at Zhongli’s questions, nodding before he could get another one out. It felt good to be so concerned about, so doted over.

“Yes Zhongli, I really want to do this with you. I trust you.” This time it was Zhongli’s turn to flush, an elegant smile gracing his lips. Before long, the both of you were out of your sleeping clothes and back on top of one another. Your back was to the silken bed sheets, as Zhongli was on top of you lining his hard cock up with your eager pussy. Zhongli gave you one last look before slowly entering you inch by inch. To say he was huge would be an understatement, so he knew he had to take it slow with you so as to not hurt you in any way. Zhongli needed this to be a good experience with you, he would never forgive himself if he hurt you or made this unenjoyable in any way at all.

The noises you were making and the way your hands were clawing at his back reassured him that he was doing everything right so far, always stopping after pushing in a few inches to give you time to adjust. Without thinking, Zhongli's mouth just started moving as words spilled out.

“You’re doing so good for me my angel, you’re taking me so well. You’re too good for me.” With the praise spilling out of Zhongli’s mouth, you couldn’t help but unleash a flurry of loud moans, as he bottomed out. He stood still for a couple moments, making sure you were nice and comfortable, until he felt you trying to move against him; trying to get him to move in and out of you.

“If you were ready for me to move, all you needed to do was ask my gem.” You let out a whine like moan, that evolved into a guttural groan when he finally started to thrust in and out of you. Your nails raked across his skin, surely leaving marks for you to admire after this was all said and done. He wasn’t skipping out on the marks either, as he sucked and bit at your skin, still throwing out praise every time his mouth left your skin. His fingers dug into your hips, as he sped up. He just couldn’t help himself, your wet quivering pussy just felt way too good wrapped around him; sucking him in every time he pulled out.

“I can’t believe it took us getting into an arranged marriage to finally meet, my god where have you been all my life.” Zhongli had begun to groan, obviously getting close to tipping over the edge, with the way his thrusts continued to get sloppier every so often. You moaned in response, too blissed out of your mind to form actual words. Zhongli’s head fell against your shoulder, his ebony black hair hanging off his shoulders.

With a few more strokes, Zhongli had both of you tumbling over the edge and cumming in unison. All that could be heard in your room was the quiet crashing of waves and the combined panting of the both of you. After a few moments of Zhongli getting his breath back he tumbled down next to you, sweaty shoulders touching. A couple seconds of silence passed before you spoke up in a raspy broken voice.

“It took us so long because I’m technically your rival.” You were giggling slightly, when Zhongli let out a loud chuckle.

“I guess you are right my dear, but now we are joined together. And I cannot wait to see what comes of our joining.”

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin zhongli #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli #genshin imagine #genshin impact imagine #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli imagine #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut

[dark-mnjiro]

crown of thorns .06.

Author’s Note:  Here it is, the final part of Crown of Thorns. I'm so happy everyone has enjoyed reading this! I really appreciate everyone's time and comments and likes and reblogs... everything. I'm debating if I want to go through a sequel but another story that furthers a bit of Miyu's story (at least until I decide if Im going to continue) please check out Shinsotired and their newest fic. Thank you again everyone. I really appreciated it.

Warnings: sukuna x f!original character, king of curses!sukuna, dubcon, a dash of noncon here and there, slavery, human trafficking (in a sense), sexism, master/slave relationship, explicit s*xual content, oral s*x (female and male receiving), explicit language, murder, torture, blood rituals, marking, angst, rough s*x, sukuna using his multiple mouths, manipulative relationship (both sides), eventual queen, choking, extreme violence, a very realistic (and not nice) sukuna.

===

Part Six

Her eyes fluttered open as the sun spilled into the room. A dull pain immediately struck between her legs and Aruna knew that she had given into Sukuna once again. She shifted in the bed before trying to get up but weight around her waist seemed to tighten and only anchor her in place. Confusion filled her eyes as she managed to find Sukuna slumbering peacefully next to her. 

Her eyes went wide in surprise. She had never known him to sleep with her after having sex. His hand moved in small circles in the small of her back. Aruna couldn’t help but watch him sleep, having never seen him so peaceful. 

She watched his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath. Her hand reached out and traced the dark marks on his skin. It didn’t seem to wake him but she noticed goosebumps trailing behind her touch. Her eyes scanned over the marks, following the patterns over his chest before a hand snatched her wrist. 

“Aruna?”

His voice was low and gruff causing her face to flush at being caught admiring him. She pulled back just enough to catch the smirk growing on his face. 

“Enjoying the view?”

Aruna scowled. “Shut up.”

“Hm… is it morning?”

“…yes,” she whispered.  “Why did you stay?”

“Well this is my bedroom,” he said flatly. 

Frustrated, she rolled her eyes. “Then why was I allowed to stay?” 

“Perhaps,” he said, stretching. “I wanted a change.”

“You’re insufferable… why can’t you just give me a straight answer?”

Sukuna merely chuckled before rolling onto his side to get a better look at Aruna. “I do love to aggravate you,” he replied, threading his fingers through her long locks.

Swatting his hand away, Aruna sat up in bed before using the white sheet to wrap around her nude form before walking around the room in search of her clothes. She noticed Sukuna sitting up in bed, observing her movements as she slowly began slipping on the kimono he has discarded on the floor. Cursing under her breath, she knew she would struggle to tie it well without Kaede here to assist.

“Here,” a gruff voice she recognized said from behind her.

Sukuna grabbed the small rope-like fabric and tightened it around her waist, earning a small gasp from Aruna. His hands moved to rest at her waist before slipping to her thighs. She felt his claw brush against the fabric before pulling her back against him. Her cheeks flushed at the small display of affection before she noticed his chin resting on her shoulder. 

“This looks much better on the floor,” he commented.

“...you’re insufferable,” Aruna groaned, tugging herself away from him.

His chuckle was low as it rumbled from his chest while he watched her turn to face him. A playful glint glittered in his crimson eyes causing Aruna to mirror an expression of annoyance. He mentioned he felt he deserved a little extra playtime for all the work he was about to endure for her… exterminating her family. Aruna could not understand why he deserved playtime for doing something he enjoyed, what a nuisance. 

“Do you need to eat?”

Sighing, Aruna glanced at the window. “...yes.”

“Go on,” he commented. “I’ll meet you to eat later.”

Aruna turned and exited out of the bedroom as she made her way down the dark corridors. It was strange how she had learned the layout of the home she once looked at like a prison. She found the double doors that led into the banquet hall as she watched all the other girls from his harem gathering to eat breakfast.

Once again, they all stopped and looked up at her. The silence was deafening. Aruna’s eyes fell to the floor before she made her way to the table to usually frequented as a servant brought her meal to her. She sipped her warmed, mugwort tea (at the insistence of Kaede) before a smile tugged at her lips. She glanced down at the meal, wondering if she could eat it all. After all, she really didn’t have much of an appetite after the ordeal from the night before.

She couldn’t believe what she had done. Still couldn’t wrap her brain around her actions. Was she truly that calloused, that much of a monster now? “What do I do now?” she mused mostly to herself as she started taking small bites of her bowl of rice. “Shit…”

“Miss Aruna?”

Her ears perked up at the sound of Kaede’s voice next to her before motioning for her to sit across the table from her. “Be quick,” Aruna said softly. “He’s on his way.”

“I made it extra strong,” Kaede commented. “So you drink quickly.”

The smile on Aruna’s face couldn’t help but widen at her servant’s joke as she took her advice, quickly downing the specialty tea. A sigh fell from her lips, despite the bitter taste, the relief was worth it.

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

Kaede leaned in. “About Miss Hoshi-”

“We don’t have to use polite speech when speaking of her,” Aruna corrected. “You know to speak freely with me.”

Kaede’s lips cracked into another smile. “...Hoshi did you-”

“Kill her?” Aruna questioned, tilting her head. “...yes.”

Sitting back, Kaede’s face paled a bit in shock at her lady’s actions.

“Believe me,” Aruna whispered. “I wasn’t exactly myself. He’s done something to me since that night. I think I’m becoming more like the queen he wanted.”

Kaede reached out and touched Aruna’s face with a ginger touch. “You are still you, despite what he’s done,” she said. “You have been nothing but kind and gentle to me and many of the other girls adore you. Only a few seem to hold grudges for the fact they weren’t chosen-”

“He said he picked me because I had the same vengeance in my soul that he does,” she whispered.

“I imagine anyone who has been through what you have gone through,” Kaede interjected. “Is willing to do anything and everything for justice and there is nothing wrong with that-”

“Aruna-”

Her eyes widened as she heard Sukuna’s voice approaching their table. “Go… before he catches on,” she whispered before discreetly handing Kaede the empty cup that had contained the mugwort tea. Kaede merely nodded before hiding the cup away and making her leave. Aruna turned to glance at Sukuna over her shoulder. “Yes? I’m eating,” she commented, keeping her tone even. “You should be thrilled.”

Smirking, he took a seat next to her. “Of course I am.”

“And you’re going to eat all of that?”

“Bloodshed does make me rather hungry,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Her eyes scanned the plate filled to the very edge with massive piles of food and Aruna could not imagine how anyone could eat that much in one sitting. But perhaps, he was right. Murder must take a lot out of an individual - and slaughtering an entire clan, well she could only guess would need a lot of energy too.

“Would you care to join me tonight?”

“...you want me there?”

“Perhaps I love noticing the evil look in your eyes when you commit such heinous acts.”

She grimaced at the thought of her committing another murder, but at the same time, she could rationalize that it would be rather satisfying to witness her abusers suffer and then perish. Maybe she could compromise with Sukuna. She could join him and perhaps not commit any acts of murder or violence, just witnessing the bloodshed she so desperately wanted from her family. 

“Do I have to murder anyone?”

Sukuna tilted his head. “Only if you wish.”

“...you won’t trick me?”

“I’ll save your father for last,” he suggested. “If you choose to make the final blow to him… I’ll allow it, otherwise I will destroy his bloodline.”

“No tricks?”

Sukuna sighed, clearly annoyed with her questions. “No tricks, my pet.”

“May I think about it?”

“Of course.”

===

It was a strange sensation as the screams rang out into the midnight air. Aruna could spy fire bursting from the inside of the different structures littered along with her clan’s land. The screams only grew louder as she watched men, women, and children scurrying around in fear as Sukuna’s maniacal laughter almost drown out their pleas. Some looked to her for mercy as fear filled their eyes and yet, Aruna felt nothing.

She would merely tug away from her kimono away from their greasy fingers and found herself almost smirking at their agony. A loud crash caught her attention as she noticed fire spouting from one of the buildings, causing the roof to collapse. “The library…” she mused before taking a step closer to the burning buildings, curious to see exactly what was happening.

“My queen…”

A sigh fell from her lips. “Uruame. You don’t need to worry. I won’t get too close.”

“But Master Sukuna-”

“...when have I ever listened to his suggestions?”

Uruame frowned. “Please stay away from the flames.”

Smiling, Aruna patted the young monk on the head before standing in front of the main building of her clan’s land. Fire erupted from the roof. Her lips cracked into a smile as she watched her family’s legacy beginning to crumble around her. Seemed fitting enough.

“You she-devil!”

Her ears perked up at the sound of her father’s voice approaching her with his fist raised, ready to strike her. She wore a bored expression as she merely stepped out of his way, causing him to misstep and fall to the ash-covered ground. She approached him as he scrambled to sit back up so he could face her. The wind caught her crimson lock, causing the natural curls in her hair to move just as wildly as the fire that surrounded them.

“Hello to you too, father.”

“You brought the devil himself to us!”

Sighing, she crossed her arms. “Father. I did what I had to to survive,” she explained. “No thanks to you. But today, all those horrible things you made me endure - come to a fiery end.”

“You red-headed demon! A curse among this family!”

“Is that all?” she asked, tilting her head curiously as he continued to spew insults at her. “I’ve heard much worse now, father. You have to do better than that. You can’t just ship me off and sell into prostitution anymore, can you? You don’t scare me anymore. I’ve seen much scarier monsters since then.” A hand came to her waist, tugging her closer as she felt lips brush against her throat.

“I suppose,” he whispered. “Like me?”

“Of course like you,” Aruna replied, making a sour face at Sukuna which only earned him to chuckle in response. “Master… meet my father.”

His crimson eyes darted to the ground before smirking again. “Hm… not much when he’s squirming beneath you, is he?”

Looking up at him, she couldn’t help but smile. “Not at all.”

Raking his fingers through her hair, Sukuna turned his attention back to Aruna. “What would you like me to do with him, my queen?”

It was tempting to make his death quick but bloody, between her father’s screams and insults still echoing from the ground as she stared back at Sukuna. But at the same time, she wished this horrible man would suffer more. Suffer more than he had ever wished on his ungrateful daughter. Another strange sensation of happiness rushed through her veins when Sukuna allowed her to have control in the situation. Though it was rare he allowed her any control, it was obvious in this moment… she needed it. 

And he was happy to oblige.

“Aruna,” he probed again, tugging her closer to his body. “You haven’t answered.”

“I’m deciding-”

“You evil, little bitch!”

Sighing, Aruna glanced down at her father before looking up at Sukuna again as she tilted her head to the side in a playful manner. “It’s hard to concentrate when someone keeps screaming… How do you expect me to think in these conditions?”

“I love how you think sometimes…”

Sukuna let go of Aruna before turning toward her father as he continued to cower on the ground. He grabbed him by the throat with one hand before using another to hold out his tongue. A third hand came up as his dark nails elongated again before pressing the sharpened nails against his tongue. Her father paled as the realization of what was about to happen before the claw sliced through the tongue. Blood gushed from his mouth as Sukuna dropped him to the ground. Her father scrambled to his knees, grasping his throat as the blood pooled around him in puddles.

“And now you will never breath another horrible word about me ever again,” Aruna commented. “Will you?”

Her father’s eyes widened in horror as he stared up at her with tears beading in the corners of his eyes. The blood continued to ooze from his mouth as she took another step toward him before leaning over. Her eyes flashed a bright red color for just a moment. He tried to speak but only gurgles managed to escape his lips before coughing as he started choking on the blood seeping down his throat.

A giggle bubbled from Aruna’s throat. “This family is going to burn with their sins…” she stated. “To ashes.” She raised back up to stand upright. “How does it feel, father? To know your daughter, the one you threw away, is now a queen. A queen that brought nothing but ruins to god-forsaken family.”

Her gaze snapped up to look at Sukuna once again. A proud gleam flashed in his dangerous eyes before her lips curled into a smile. “He’s suffered enough.”

“I thought you would never ask…”

“Kill them all.”

Sukuna chuckled before moving to stand inf front of Aruna. “Stand behind me,” he instructed. “Or you’ll die instead.” She watched as Sukuna muttered a few strange phrases before she noticed her surroundings change for a split second before he muttered the word “dismantle”. Aruna quickly shielded her body, knowing what entailed with this technique as she had watched him slaughtered several people in her captivity with this.

Blood splattered the ground as her father’s body collapsed at their feet in several pieces. A sigh fell from her lips, knowing he could no longer haunt her nightmares. “Master, I-”

His demeanor changed as a growl rumbled from his chest. “Sorcerer,” he hissed. “Uraume!”

Uraume appeared behind Sukuna, awaiting orders. “Yes, master.”

“Take Aruna and leave,” he snapped. “Sorcerers are arriving… and fast.”

“Of course,” Uraume said, bowing before grabbing Aruna’s arm.

“But-”

“But nothing,” Sukuna snapped at her. “If there was ever a time to listen to me, this is that moment. They will murder you. I’ll handle it. Take her home.”

Aruna felt her blood run cold as his words. Would these people kill her that easily? No questions asked. And Sukuna, it was strange to hear him seem worried about her well-being even if he put it in such rude phrases. 

“...Alright,” Aruna said softly. “Be-”

“Oh please. I’ll be fine.”

Sighing, Aruna shook her head before following Uraume. It was strange that she felt a small pang of worry in her chest about Sukuna. Grimacing, she shook her head trying to force the thought from her mind, knowing that it had to be impossible for anyone to cause him harm.

“My queen?”

Aruna looked at Uraume and smiled. “I’m fine.”

“Of course,” Uraume commented gently before tugging Aruna through a path to dodge falling pieces of the building burning around them. The heat was becoming unbearable for Aruna and she prayed they would escape soon. A beam fell from the ceiling, causing Aruna to scream. Uraume quickly shoved Aruna back to keep her safe as the beam fell between them. 

Wincing, Aruna forced herself up onto her feet as she tried to look over the flames as she heard Uraume calling out her name. “Shit,” she mumbled, looking around her surroundings for anywhere she could go. She spied a small passage between buildings that didn’t seem engulfed in flames yet as she quickly took off. She stayed close to the wall, straining her ears to see if she was growing closer to Uraume. Sukuna would be furious if he knew they had been separated. 

“My queen!”

A sigh of relief moved past her lips as Aruna managed to squeeze out of the small passage and rejoin Uraume. “Are you hurt?” she asked.

“No. I’m fine… you have a burn on your arm. I’m sorry I didn’t react quick-”

“Uraume,” Aruna replied. “I’ll survive. I’ve had much worse.”

Nodding, Uraume managed to pull her away from the burning building and a safe enough distance that their attention could return to Aruna’s injuries. Uraume placed a hand on her arm before using a reverse cursed technique to heal her just enough to take away the pain. 

A smile curled over her lips before she gently touched Uraume’s head. “Thank you-”

A scream echoed into the night air as Uraume practically jumped back from Aruna. Her body lurched forward as blood began to spill out of her mouth. Her eyes fell to her abdomen as she witnessed a sword mixed with cursed energy piercing through her body. The pain was unbearable as she looked over her shoulder. “Uraume…” she sputtered out. “Runaway.”

“But-”

“I order you,” Aruna managed out before grimacing in pain. “Runaway.”

“Of course, my queen.”

Uraume disappeared.

Aruna turned to face the sorcerer who had managed to stab her.

“What are the odds that Sukuna’s little queen would be so easily caught?”

The corners of her lips dipped into a frown. “He’s going to slaughter you… just wait.”

The pain was becoming unbearable again as she began to feel woozy from blood loss. Just how long could she survive with this injury, even if Sukuna were to appear? She knew he could heal her, even Uraume could heal her. But, at the same time, was it too late? Her eyes fell to the pool of blood surrounding her and grew larger by the second. She was certain vital organs had been pierced by the blade as well… How long could she hold on? Was she okay with dying now? Perhaps, it was perfect timing. 

An escape she always prayed for…

The sorcerer merely cackled. “Oh please… there’s no way-”

His words were silenced as his body was sliced in two as Sukuna appeared behind him. “Fucking piece of garbage-” he growled before his gaze fell on Aruna’s body. A weak smile spread over her lips as she slowly pulled the sword from her abdomen and tossed it aside. His rage was evident as he rushed to her side before weakness began settling in. He cradled her body as she winced again.

Her hand came up and touched his face. “It’s alright.”

“Shut up,” he growled before placing a hand on her stomach. “I can heal-”

Aruna shook her head. “Don’t…”

“Aruna!”

“Sukuna,” she assured him as blood spilled from her mouth again. “It's okay. Perhaps it’s perfect that I die along with my family.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “I didn’t say you were allowed-”

She forced herself to giggle at his bizarre display of hurt. “I don’t think you get much of a choice,” she whispered as her voice became weaker. “Not this time.”

His grip tightened around her before pulling her into his chest. “I’ll bring you back.”

Aruna took in a deep inhale of his scent, wanting to imprint it in her mind. “I know you will.”

“Rest, my queen.”

Her hand rested on his face as she traced the markings along his cheek before her eyes turned glassy and lifeless. Her touch grew limp before her hand fell back to the ground as her body succumbed to her injuries. Her last breath moved past her lips as Sukuna stared at her now lifeless form.

He wasn’t sure what to make of his feelings or how to rationalize what had happened. He had calculated everything so perfectly, and yet… this was still the outcome. He had lost his queen. The only one he had deemed suitable to stand beside him, the only woman filled with as much vengeance as his dark soul.p

“...rest now, my queen.”

He gently laid her body down, gently posing her hands in front of her body. His fingers threaded through her crimson hair before bringing it to his lips. He took one last inhale of her hair, his favorite feature… before standing up. He would order his servants to retrieve her body quickly before the other sorcerers would try to steal her away from him. And in order to bring her back, he would have to preserve her soul by keeping her physical body in his possession for as long as humanly possible.

At least until Aruna could find a viable vessel.

A blood relative.

He knew what he would have to do.

His eyes snapped up as he caught a glimpse of a sorcerer running away from the flames as several others were trying to save the property. A child was with him… the same dark and stormy eyes of that of his lover. Sukuna smirked before realizing perhaps everything had worked out better than he could have hoped. 

A direct relative, her brother had survived along with his child.

“Soon, Aruna,” he whispered, turning away from the burning building. “I will see you soon.”

===

She had lost track of time as the years ticked by as she stayed close to her brother’s descendants, despite being dead. She was unsure how her soul had decided to linger, but assumed it was some sort of doing thanks to Sukuna. He was long since gone and now she was stuck in limbo, tormenting her brother’s female descendants over the next one thousand years.

Had it really been that long?

Aruna’s eyes watched as another female had been born into her family. She had taken it upon herself to stop a suitable vessel for her to be born. She knew Sukuna would never just lay down and die so easily. He was waiting, just waiting patiently for his next move. She had heard rumors spoken by her family members regarding his whereabouts, that his soul was split among twenty fingers scattered around Japan.

And yet, here she was, bringing nothing but illness on any female born into this cursed family.

As the years ticked onward, Aruna became more and more bitter. She wasn’t sure why she was so angry at Sukuna for allowing her brother to survive that night. She had begged him to slaughter every, last member of that family. And yet, here they all were, surviving and thriving.

“Ignorant fool,” she grumbled as the newborn infant began crying out.

She snapped her fingers, causing the woman who had just given birth to immediately have complications as the doctor and nurses gathered around her to try and assist her. The newborn’s father frowned, cursing under his breath and she swore she heard her name just barely move past his lips.

“It’s what you deserve,” she growled at him as she moved around the delivery room.

It was a perk to being a cursed spirit now. No one could knowingly see her and she was free to torment her family without restriction. She always wondered why they never sought out a sorcerer to try and kill her, but from what she had gathered several larger family’s in power refused to accept that she was ever a cursed spirit.

Her lips curled into a smile. No one would try to exorcise her because there was no proof that she was a cursed spirit. She wasn’t in the books they spoke of so often. She was merely a superstition that the Hana family cried and whined about and she was free to do as she pleased to torment them for the rest of their days. She wondered if that was also Sukuna’s doing, that he had managed to keep his workings toward making her a cursed spirit quiet even after his death.

But at the same time, she was never a sorcerer. Even after the deal, Sukuna had made with Kenjaku and perhaps that was why she was never recognized as a possible threat. She was merely known throughout history as Sukuna’s queen… his favorite whore as her family seemed to dub her, more often than not.

“She’s coding!”

The smirk on Aruna’s face grew wider as the infant’s mother was slowly dying on the table. The infant’s wails were growing louder, aggravating Aruna. She slowly walked toward the infant, staring at her. “Little one, do not worry… You’ll join your mother soon.”

“She’s dying!”

“Oh please… just let the bitch die already,” Aruna huffed, crossing her arms. 

The father placed the infant back into the bassinet before walking back toward his wife. Tears brimmed at his eyes as she was beginning to lose consciousness. “Aruna, you witch,” he hissed, grasping his wife’s hand. “Spare her. Please.” Tilting her head, Aruna wondered just what type of bartering technique this was if all he was planning to do was insult her. “Don’t take my wife… I’ll give you anything.”

Sighing, Aruna walked back toward the wailing baby in the bassinet before her eyes narrowed. She spied crimson-colored hair barely peeking out on her scalp. “Red hair,” she whispered. “The first girl in this family to have red hair since I was born…” She turned her attention back to the sobbing husband as his wife continued to hemorrhage more despite the doctor’s efforts. She slowly made her way toward the husband before leaning into his ear. “Look at her hair…”

The husband stiffened at Aruna’s voice before moving away from his dying wife to look at the baby in the bassinet again. “R-red hair,” he stammered. “A demon child… an omen!”

“Get rid of the child,” Aruna whispered again. “As far from Japan as possible and I’ll spare your pathetic wife.”

“We have to get rid of her,” he said quickly. “Put her up for adoption. We can’t care for her!”

Aruna giggled before snapping her fingers and allowing the mother to survive.

“Perfect…”

And before she knew it, Aruna found herself intrigued as she followed the little redhead to America after she was adopted. Her birth family had managed to organize a private adoption allowing the infant to start over in America. After she was born, Aruna had noticed the infant was mistreated similarly to the way she had mistreated herself. Miyu, as she was named, was often ignored and neglected by her biological family.

Perhaps America would be a better place for her.

And over the years, Aruna watched Miyu grow into a child. And as a child, Miyu was able to see her. She couldn’t place her finger on it, but Aruna had grown interested in the young girl’s life and wellbeing. While she hated she had grown a soft spot for the girl, she found herself still protecting her even as her adoptive family would throw her into psychiatric institutions not completely understanding that she was a sorcerer, that she curses existed.

Little Miyu was told over and over again that she was nothing more than crazy, given the diagnosis of schizophrenic by several doctors. She was sent off for months at a time to residential psychiatric hospitals and despite that, she never once shook her “delusions” of curses and of Aruna.

And despite being told over and over again, Aruna wasn’t real, Miyu disputed it at every turn. Even as her birthday approached. She was turning fifteen. She was growing into a beautiful young woman, and Aruna had vowed this sweet girl would need to be protected.

Aruna, over time, had grown softer, speaking and mentoring the poor girl as she began to take pity on her. She would advise her not to take her medication as she was not mentally ill. She was just different than other children. This would cause much discourse between Miyu and the staff at the hospitals and would often end with Miyu being forced to take injections that would knock her out for hours at a time. 

“You little brat,” her mother would snap at her. “There are no such things as curses! These monsters are all in your head and you’re doing this for attention!” Miyu would flinch at the tone of her mother’s voice, causing her mother to reach out and grab her by the upper arm and jerk her around. “You have brought nothing but problems to this family since you were brought here! We should’ve known something was wrong with you when your biological family gave you up so easily!”

Aruna would frown as she would watch Miyu retreat to her bedroom, curling up on her bed in the fetal position as the tears would begin to flow from her eyes. Aruna would sit at the foot of her bed, petting the girl’s long, crimson hair trying to comfort her. “Little one… there is nothing wrong with you,” she would tell her over and over again.

Until her brother would open the door…

Miyu’s face would pale as he would step inside. “Please go away,” she would cry out.

And despite her protests, her brother would not leave. He would often take advantage of the girl, knowing that no one would believe her, that they would just brand it as another crazy girl’s delusions. And as Miyu grew older, her brother became more inappropriate until Aruna would no longer tolerate his actions and snapped her fingers and took over Miyu’s small frame before using her cursed energy to shove her brother back and slam into the wall on the opposite side of the room. 

“Little pervert,” Aruna hissed as she still had control of Miyu’s body. “I’ll kill you…”

He scrambled to his feet before rushing out of the bedroom trying to get his mother’s help.

Aruna sighed, before allowing Miyu to take over but told her she needed to make a run for it. It was odd that she easily took over the girl’s body and began to wonder if she was the perfect vessel Sukuna had spoken of so long ago. They were almost exact copies… even down to the birthmark on Miyu’s wrist that mirrored the mark Sukuna had placed at Aruna’s so many years ago. 

Miyu took Aruna’s warning and made a run for it before her mother would harm her again. She ran until her chest tightened and she could no longer breathe as she stepped into a dark alley. Miyu leaned against a brick wall, trying to catch her breath before she started hearing screeching noises growing closer… The screeching then turned into slashing noises and before she knew it she found a curse slashed in half at her feet. 

Her eyes went wide as she looked up and met the gaze of an older woman. She was not from America as when she spoke her English wasn’t perfect but enough for Miyu to understand. Luckily, being adopted by a Japanese-American family, Miyu had managed to learn Japanese as she introduced herself to the older woman. 

“Did you kill that thing!”

“...you can see them?”

Aruna watched carefully. A sorcerer…

“Yes,” Miyu admitted, wiping her eyes. “All my life. I have no idea what they are!”

The woman frowned. “My name is Hayami… This is a curse. I’ve been sent here from Japan to exterminate them though they typically aren’t found outside Japan.”

Miyu blinked. “I’m…I’m adopted. My biological family gave me up. I was born in Japan.”

“I think we have much to talk about Miyu,” Haya explained, offering the terrified teenager a soft smile. “Come with me.”

“Are you,” Miyu frowned before pausing. “Are you going to hurt me?”

“I would never do that,” Haya said, gently petting the girl’s hair. “I believe I’ve found the source of the cursed energy here… You’re not crazy Miyu. These are very real things.”

A wave of relief washed over Miyu’s face as she followed Hayami. “So what now?”

“We need to get you back to Japan and get your cursed technique under control.”

“But my parents…” Miyu sighed. “What about them?”

“I will handle it,” Haya explained. “But first. We must talk.”

Aruna was silent as she watched Miyu interacting with this woman. She could sense the woman had no ill intentions toward Miyu, perhaps she could even save her. Her hands moved through Miyu’s hair, offering her some comfort and letting her know that she was fine with this decision. Especially because deep down, Aruna knew that she was the reason Miyu had been placed there, to begin with… 

“She will keep you safe, Miyu,” Aruna whispered to her, causing Miyu to smile.

Perhaps, it was finally time to fix it. There would be no way Sukuna would ever find her again, even though a part of her craved his touch and attention. He would only torment this sweet girl and she would never allow that to happen. Miyu would be much safer in a place that would  harness her cursed techniques and teach her proper control. Perhaps, Japan would be the safest place for them both.

It was time to go home.

#jujutsu kaisen #sukuna ryomen #Sukuna x original character #sukuna x reader #sukuna x oc #sukuna x you #sukuna fanfic #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x oc #jjk x y/n #jjk #anime #writing #crown of thorns #king of curses #jjk fanfic #jjk fandom #jjk fanworks #original characters #original character #oc #fanfiction #fanfic #anime x reader #anime x oc #hana aruna #sukuna x aruna #female original character #sukuna x female reader

[mrs-gucci]

Doth Not Fear, For Our Future Awaits {Prince Kylo Ren x Reader}

@babbushka:

Happy follower milestone my dear friend!! My prompt idea for your consideration: A medieval AU where reader is a lady in waiting to the Queen at the royal court, and Kylo is the crown prince who is in love with her. They can never be together...or can they? However you'd like to take this, if you decide at all, would be so much fun! xoxoxo :)

author’s notes: hello, hello! I’m baaaaack after a lengthy case of writers block 😩 my dearest friend, my beloved, thank you for this wonderful request!! I’ll be honest, I restarted this about three different times, but I’m very pleased with how this one turned out for you <3 @babbushka​

warnings (what you see is what you’ll get!): fluff. forbidden romance/love. passionate kissing. themes of infidelity. use of Shakespearean English. some insults are thrown around.

no tw’s :)

word count: 1.6k

my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp​ @babbushka​ ​@mrs-zimmerman​ @dirtytissuebox​ @thepalaceofmelanie​ @einmal-im-traum​ kylo’s taglist peeps! @goddessofsprings @icarusinthesea @lumdelacour @readingreaver @eagerforhoney​ @trubluepensfan​ @beachwoodmonet​ (if you’d like to be added to or removed from any of my taglists, the link to the google form is HERE or at the top of my masterlist.)

[NOT my art/image. full credit to the artist, therealmcgee, and found via Pinterest]

A gentle autumn breeze rustles the masterpiece of dark tresses that sit atop the head of crown prince Kylo Ren, who stands alone in the moonlight-illuminated garden. The birds have ceased their chirps and allowed for the nighttime singers to shine through, crickets and katydids creating a peaceful melody from amongst the grasses.

He stands by the pond, staring down at his gently rippled reflection in the water. A grimace seems to be permanently etched onto his expression whenever he’s in the presence of his overbearing mother or pesky new bride, creating creases in his skin that shall surely remain for the rest of his living days.

As he looks down upon himself under the soft moonlight, he can only see the miserable face of a young man trapped in the cage of a legacy, unable to free himself from the heavy chains of expectation and tradition. Tonight, though, those chains bear an even greater weight for the young royal.

You're all he desires in life, the only thing he wishes to seek out and fight for. Not the kingdom of Alderaan, not his new bride, not even his mother; it’s you. And now, he’s forever bound to the wrong woman, restrained yet again by the rigid ways of his family’s traditions.

What if he no longer wants to be Prince?

A hollow footstep on the stone courtyard startles him from his thoughts and he turns around to gaze upon the intruder of his serene privacy.

“I believeth thy new bride is awaiting that lady marital bedding.”

His expression softens upon the sight of you striding towards him, turning fully around to properly face you as you stand before him. He holds your smaller hands in his much larger ones.

“The lady shalt beest waiting for an eternity, then. I am doubtful of that lady did suppose pureness, if 't be true i am truthful.”

The two of you laugh softly together at his comment.

“I wanteth nay other, Y/N, only thee.”

You offer the crown prince a sad smile. “And I only desire thee, Kylo, but we simply cannot beest together. I am mistress in waiting to thy mother, the queen, and ye art did set to becometh king. 't is 'gainst the laws of the land and we shalt certes beest hanged if 't be true anyone ever did discover our love affair.”

He sighs, forehead pressing against yours as he looks longingly into your eyes. “I wish things wast not this way, yond people couldst beest free to marry for love, not for status or bloodlines.”

“Me too.” You lean into him, bringing your mouth up to hover over his, and his down to meet yours. Warm, gentle wafts of his breath smooth out across your lips and you give a soft whimper in response, pressing yourself further against him. “Telleth me all thee would do to have me as thy bride, Kylo.”

Your voice is barely above a whisper, considering you’re barely able to breathe through your nose by now, with your face practically smashed up against him, but that’s the absolute last thing you give thought to at a moment like this. He opens his mouth and lazily attempts to capture you in a kiss, fingertips pressing harder into your sides.

“Gods, I would doth aught for thee. I would giveth up mine coronet, mine legacy for thy handeth.”

Slowly, your arms slither up around the back of his neck, feeling a familiar heat rising and bubbling in your nether regions.  “Telleth me more.”

He’s practically slobbering over you now, so desperate to press his lips unto yours. The hunger surges through him as he pulls you flush against him.

“I would square for thee, square anyone for thy love to belong to only me. I would drop of sorrow mine bloody, beating heart out of mine own chest for thee.”

Your pulse throbs neath your flesh, the upbeat tempo of your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You sigh into his open mouth, hand coming up to grab hold of his silky hair. 

“Moo.”

Suddenly, he sweeps you up off your feet and instantly presses you against the side of the nearest structure, effectively caging you in with his massive form. He snarls softly, pinning you even further into the wall, forcing a quiet gasp from your lips.

“By gods, Y/N, I would killeth for thee.”

You tighten your grip in his hair and pull him down into a sloppy, passionate kiss. He returns the embrace with eager lips, tongue prodding and exploring every cavern of your mouth. His pelvis presses right up against your lower abdomen, rubbing his stiffening length up against you.

“Kylo.” A sigh pushes its way through your pursed lips as Kylo’s head dips down, lips pecking at the taut skin on your neck.

“Did shalt we runneth hence together. I wanteth to declare our love to the kingdom tonight.” His face lights up as he holds yours in his massive hands, smiling. “I’m sick of hiding in the shadows, sick of having to keepeth myself hence from thee.”

You’re riddled with worry over this sudden decision, rubbing the strong upper arms of your lover. “Art thee sure? This idea worries me greatly, mine sweeting. What if 't be true we receiveth did doth catch? They wilt throweth us in the dungeons for sure; our destiny wilt beest but soft decaying down thither until death showeth us mercy.”

“I don’t care. Allow me to prove all I would doth for thy love and for thy handeth, Y/N. I wilt taketh care of thee, I wilt at each moment maketh sure thee hath't everything thee couldst ever needeth and moo. And we wilt beest together, beest free to love one another at last. Who is't cares whither we art or what our fates wilt beest? We can finally beest together without restrictions, punishments or secrecy.” He presses you further up against the wall, lips parallel to your ear. “Mine life isn't worth living if 't be true thou art not by mine side. Wilt thee runneth hence with me?”

Simply just the thought of that makes your stomach go a flutter, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Your eyes flicker up to meet his once more, hands cradling his handsomely carved face.

“I trust thee, kylo, thither's few or none will entertain it path thee decideth to taketh; I wilt remain by thy side. If 't be true thee wish to telleth the kingdom, then I wilt telleth those folk 'longside thee. If 't be true thee wish to runneth hence from this lodging, then I wilt runneth with thee.”

Kylo pulls you close for one more embrace, then guides you along back up to the party. Acidic nerves begins to crawl up your throat as the two of you draw nearer and nearer to the bustling ballroom.

Instantly, the Queen rushes over to her estranged son with a frustrated frown on her face. “Whither on earth hath't thee been?! Thy bride hath been by herself all night waiting for thee to returneth!”

He takes your hand. “The lady is not mine bride, mother, not anymore. Y/n is mine bride, and we don't care what everyone thinkest of our forbidden love. I've grown did tire of trying to prithee, of trying to followeth all of the traditions of our family. I wanteth to marry for love, not for the continuation of our lineage, and i intend to doth so with mine beloved.”

Now, people have begun to look onto the unfolding situation, finding it far more interesting than the festivities. Leia’s eyes search her son’s, then flicker over to glare into yours. A shiver swipes down your spine at her gaze of hatred.

“Thee've poisoned mine son. Callet!”

This gets the attention of even more patrons and suddenly, every single set of eyes are focused on where you stand. You wish to simply crumble in this moment, become one with the Earth in order to escape their accusatory stares. 

“How dare thee speaketh of mine beloved in such a manner?! Didn't thee heareth what I did doth sayeth? We don't care what thee bethink of us, what any of thee bethink of us. We wilt beest together, coequal if 't be true 't doth take every single moment of mine life to achieve.” 

The room is completely still and scarily quiet, not a single shift in position or breath can be heard in this moment. Leia stands up straight to look up into her son’s eyes. “I at each moment did knoweth thee wast nev'r did cullionly to beest in this family. I'm ashamed to hath't thee as a son.”

Patrons begin to stir and an angry unrest drapes itself atop the crowd.

“Throweth those folk in the dungeons!“ One says.

“Death to the coronet prince!“ Another exclaims.

From the very back of the room, another voice pops up. “Traitors!“

Suddenly, Kylo yanks you towards the stairs, breaking out in a full sprint.

“Runneth anon, mine love! We wilt hence!”

Your precious shoes fly off your feet as you run behind him. “Kylo! Mine shoes hath't cometh off! What am I to doth?”

He’s quick to scoop you up and carry you in his arms, breath steadily growing heavier with your added weight. He runs all the way down to the stables and seizes a tacked horse, mounting the perplexed creature swiftly.

“Taketh mine handeth. Doth not fear, for our future awaits, mine beloved.”

With a bright and hopeful smile, you take his hand willingly, the wind catching your hair as rhythmic hoof-falls carry you off to your new life, one you get to spend with the love of your life.

#mrs-gucci #mrs-gucci writes kylo ren #medieval au #medieval kylo #prince kylo ren #prince!kylo ren #prince kylo #prince!kylo #adcu #adcu community #adcu fanfiction #adcu fanfic #star wars fanfiction #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x y/n #kylo x reader #kylo x you #kylo x y/n #kylo ren fluff #kylo fluff #kylo ren x reader fluff #kylo ren fanfiction #adam driver #adam driver character #adam driver fluff #adam driver fanfiction #mrs-gucci requests

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

So exciting your requests are open! can you do a soft moment of vulnerability with King Arthur? then you can add as much or as little smut to that as you want. but I just feel like that man needs a little love and support <3 I hope you enjoy your week break and properly pamper yourself!!

A/N: I love the idea of a type of caregiver/teacher for Blue that works in the palace and so I kind of ran with it. I hope you like it. Thank you for reblogging, commenting, and liking. 

Pairing: King Arthur x F! Reader 

Warnings: It’s pretty soft but I curse once. 

My Masterlist 

Late Nights with the King 

“And they lived happily ever after,” you trailed off, your hand, running through the short hair at the top of Blue’s head. Your small charge had quickly burrowed his way into your heart. You pulled the covers up higher and placed a kiss on his forehead, backing slowly out of the room and closing the door with a slight click. 

It was late, and the castle was quiet as you made your way through the labyrinth of halls, the book of fairy tales clutched to your chest. You turned the corner and into the room with the fabled Round Table, hoping to cut through to the kitchens for a late snack before bed. But, your steps faltered when you learned you were not as alone this evening as you thought. The King slumped in his chair, a hand over his eyes, the table littered with essential documents and maps, and you quietly began to retrace your steps out of the room, but you were not as quiet as you thought. 

“Come,” his voice echoes throughout the great room, “please, is there something you need?” He slowly lowers his hand, and you lower to a curtsy, “please,” he begs, “I hate when people do that.” You can’t help the chuckle that bubbles up your throat, and he smiles, “what’s so funny?” 

“The King does not like when his subjects bow and curtsy before him?” you tease, biting your lip, “how would you like best to be addressed then, sir?” 

“When we are alone like this, I would like to be addressed by my name, Arthur.” 

“Arthur,” you test the name on your tongue, half expecting lighting to come and strike you for addressing the King in such an informal way. He smiles and nods, gesturing to the seat beside him for you to sit. “Oh, Your Majesty, I wasn’t seeking you out; I was just cutting through to the kitchens.” 

He gives you a playful glare, “Arthur, please. Would this suffice?” he pushes a plate towards you laden with grapes, apple slices, hard cheese, and a crust of bread. “I also have wine,” he grabs a second goblet and fills it with the sweet red. “Please, join me?” You’d never thought the King would ask such a request of you, but you do not wish to insult him, so you take a seat a few spots down, reaching for the plate. “Closer,” his voice is low, almost as if not to startle a fawn, “please.” 

Your pulse quickens, and you rise quickly, bumping your leg into the table and causing the contents to rock, the glass of wine sloshing onto a paper. “Fuck,” you mumble, quickly pulling your skirt to wipe up the mess, the red staining your dress. He chuckles, and you turn to see him watching you with amused eyes. “I am so sorry your Maje-” 

“Arthur,” he quickly corrects, pulling out the chair beside him, “those are nothing of consequence. Please just take a seat.” You pull back down your skirt and take a tentative seat beside him. He reaches for the plate and sets it between you, taking a grape and popping it into his mouth. “So why are you up so late, my Lady?” 

“Please, if I must call you Arthur, you must call me by my name. Plus, I am no Lady; I am just here to raise Blue and give him a proper education.” He hands you the glass of wine, and you tremble as his hand grazes over your own, taking a large sip to soothe your nerves. 

“How is Blue doing with his studies? I regret that I haven’t been a perfect father figure to him lately. Back Lack would be so disappointed in me,” he sighs, leaning back again. His eyes look distant, and he rubs a hand over his beard. You don’t think, reaching across to take his hand. He turns to look at you, the storm brewing in his eyes. 

“You are a wonderful guardian to him; he loves you very much. He always speaks so highly of you and how he never thought the Boss would become the King, but there wouldn’t be any better. He admires you very much, Arthur,” he rubs his thumb over your hand. “He understands that you are the King, and when you get a chance, he will get his time with you.” His eyes lose some of their brightness, and you take a look at how utterly exhausted he looks. 

“I don’t want to let him down,” he mumbles, “or anyone else.” 

“It’s an enormous weight on your shoulders, I reckon, being King.” Your hands move without thought, your thumbs rubbing each other in soothing circles, his hand warm and prominent in your own. 

“It is,” he whispers, leaning closer to you. 

“How does one cope with such pressure?” you ask, taking your eyes off your intertwined hands and looking up at him, noting you are much closer than you remember. 

“I don’t,” you feel his breath ghost across your lips, “All of it, being King, trying to be a good guardian to Blue, keeping the kingdom safe, yielding Excalibur, it’s all on my shoulders.” You lean closer, like a moth to a flame. Brushing your nose against his own, on the edge of your seat. 

“Is there anything I can do, my King?” your tongue slithers out to wet your lips, and you feel it graze his bottom lip, the catch of his breath loud in the silence. 

He drops your hand and moves to cup your cheek, skin soft against his calloused palm, “my name,” he breathes, “is Arthur.” 

“Arthur,” you whisper, his head moving to close the distance between you. His lips are hot and firm against your own, scooting closer to lick against your lips. His hands drag you forward out of your seat and into his lap, pulling you closer until there is no space between you. His other hand comes up, and he traces his thumbs over your cheeks as he wields his tongue like the famed Excalibur, leaving you breathless. The tenderness of his touch and the way he kisses you have you melting into his arms. He pulls away with a sigh pressing his forehead to your own. 

“Do you feel better now?” you whisper against the shell of his ear, his forehead dropping to your shoulder and wrapping his arms tightly around you. 

“Yes,” he nuzzles his face into your neck and presses scratchy kisses against your skin, “you are so soft and smell so good, I could get lost in your arms.” You run your fingers through his hair, nails gently scratching his scalp, and he groans, leaning further into your touch, “that feels nice,” he slurs, drunk off your warmth and soft touch. 

You lean back, and his head slowly rises to meet your eyes, “I should go,” you whisper, “it’s very late and,” you bite your lip, holding back. 

“What, love, tell me,” the endearment is not lost on you, and your eyes soften. 

“I am not a fine Lady of the court,” you swallow, “nor am I a whore.” He blinks and cups your cheeks keeping your eyes fixed on him. 

“I hope I did not give the impression that I see you as such, and you are better than all those Ladies in their fancy gowns and laden with jewels. You see me. Arthur.” You slowly drag his hands down your cheeks and stand from his lap. For a moment, he looks like he will reach for you again, but with a slight shake of your head, he drops his hands to his lap; closing his eyes, he leans his head back against the chair with a small thump. 

His eyes open suddenly, lashes fluttering as you cup his cheek and press your lips to his for one final kiss. “Goodnight, Arthur,” you whisper, “same time tomorrow?” His eyes light up, and his lips turn into a smile. 

“Same time tomorrow.” 

Taglist: @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @ghostwiththemostbitch @the-purity-pen @paintballkid711 @wasicskosgirl @fantasticcopeaglepasta @sarahjkl82-blog @boxdyeblonde @rosiefridayrogersunday @yeah-seems-legit  @mimimi-stuff  @ladyblogger-margie @memyselfandellasworld @peterhollandkait @itspdameronthings @emmy626 @luv-nd-serenity @randomness501  @littlebopper96 @alexmarie29 @hell-is-my-second-home666 @thisshipwillsail316 @madslorian @no-droids-on-sunday @glixxr @sfr99 @pedro-pastel @we-can-be-himbos  @sleep-tight1 @sarhabee @its--fandom--darling @im-an-adult-ish @lunarthoughts @jedi-mando @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @rebelliouscat @veracruz-djarin @marvelprincess1994 @thirstworldproblemss @spacelatinoss  @martellthemandalor @kesskirata @waatermelon-sugaar @jitterbugs927 @helga1031  @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell

#King Arthur x Reader #King Arthur Legend of the Sword #charlie hunnam #Autumn Writes #King Arthur #Female Reader

[heartsofbeskar]

the red wolf

chapter two: a stolen gift

oberyn martell x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of death, a smooch™

words: 3.6K

excerpt: A few tears slipped down your cheeks, despite your best efforts. Oberyn gently swiped them away, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. You could feel his warm breath against your face, and it was pleasant, and smelled of the fruit filled Dornish wine he loved. His lips were tinted from it as well.

“Is there anything I can do, little wolf? I hate to see you this way,” he whispered to you, even though you were alone and shielded by so much greenery.

“Let me give you something,” your voice shook as you matched his whispered tone. “Before he can take it from me.”

a/n: the second chapter is here!! im having such a good time writing this tbh; this chapter is based on the first half of the season 4 episode the lion and the rose; im tackling it in two chapters since its a doozy

masterlist

prev | next

The fresh air gently blew across your face as it cascaded over the top of the walls of Winterfell. You leaned on the wooden railing, smiling as you watched your brothers play below. They held wooden swords, clashing them against each other clumsily. Ser Rodrik would surely chastise them for the sloppy footwork, but you enjoyed their dramatics.

Creaking of the boards alerted you to a new presence approaching. Robb smiled gently as he came to stand beside you. He wore a fur robe draped across his shoulders, and you marvelled at just how broad it made him appear. You turned to face him, smoothing the stray furs into line.

“When did you turn into a man?” You teased. He brought a hand up and lightly pinched the skin of your cheek.

“Around the same time my twin sister became a woman.”

You swatted his hand away, but laughed. His eyes held a softness as he turned them away to watch Bran and Rickon, who now wrestled amongst the haybed. You reached for his hand, squeezing it.

“Something’s troubling you.” He didn’t bother to deny it; you had studied your twin’s face from the day you had both been born, after all. “Are you not excited to see the King?”

“I am, but …” He shook his head. “I cannot say I am thrilled with the prospect of my sisters departing at once for King’s Landing. Or my twin sister marrying a man there.”

“Robb,” you sighed. “We can’t stay children forever. Someday, this—” you gestured at large to the courtyard, “—will be yours to lead, along with the entire North. I will be your ears wherever I land — King’s Landing, or otherwise.”

He nodded, but still didn’t meet your eyes again, You pulled him forward by his hand, wrapping your arms around the soft fur on his shoulders. You rested your head on the plush surface, as he wrapped his arms around you in response, both of you leaning into the familiar embrace.

“I will come to see you often, this I promise. My heart will always be with you, in the North.”

—

Your hand was sweating as you laid it on the ornate handle of the large door of Lord Tywin’s office. It was silent inside and you prayed to the Old Gods he was out, having forgotten your appointment entirely. But he had requested it of you specifically via a handwritten parchment, so you knew that you would not be so lucky.

With a large breath in, you pushed the handle down. The door seemed to scream at you as it swung open; stay out, don’t come in here, run for your life from this wretched place all together.

As you suspected, Tywin was inside, head hung low over a parchment he was rapidly writing on, spread over his desk. He didn’t look up as you entered, though he must have heard you.

You slowly closed the door behind you, fighting the urge to flinch as it slammed back into place.

“Come here, girl.” Still, Tywin didn’t look up as he called out to you. Your hand clenched at your side at the name, but you quickly forced it to relax, taking short steps towards his desk. When you reached it, you stood in front of it awkwardly, waiting.

With a large flourish of the quill, he finally set down the writing implement, casting his eyes up towards you. He leaned back in his chair, assessing you. For what, you weren’t sure.

“Lady Stark,” he mused. “With the untimely death of all three of your brothers…you are now the true heir to Winterfell and the North.”

You swallowed thickly, pushing the unbidden images of Bran and Rickon from your mind, their young, innocent faces threatening to fester there. “My lord, I was of the understanding that the Boltons had been granted control of Winterfell and the North.” In exchange for the betrayal and murder of my twin brother, his unborn child, and my mother. You let the ending hang in the air between you.

Tywin tapped the side of his face, his eyes calculating. “Yes, it is true as Hand of the King, I have named Roose Bolton as Warden of the North. But we both know who the people of the North will rally to, if they are called. And that will always be a Stark, as long as one lives.”

You clasped your hands in front you, pushing them into the fabric of your dress, trying to dampen the sweat that collected on them. “My lord … I apologize, but I’m afraid I do not understand.”

He rose now, smoothing down the front of his tunic. Stepping around the desk, he approached you. Slowly, he took your chin in his hand, turning your head to varying angles.

“You are a virgin, yes?”

A chill ran its way up your spine. You nodded.

“Good.” He released your face, turning his back to you as he faced the windows overlooking the city, hands clasped behind his back. “Were you my daughter, I would’ve had you married long ago, but I suppose Ned Stark’s inadequacies are my opportunities. You will be wed to my eldest son, Jaime, once I convince him to quit this Kingsguard business. You will bear him sons, and they will be the heirs to both Winterfell and Casterly Rock.”

Your hands shook in front of you and you clasped them tighter together. When you didn’t say anything in response, Tywin turned his head to look back at you.

“You would do well to interact with him during these upcoming festivities for the King’s wedding. Now go.”

As if you’d be sprung free from a trap, you hurried to the door, eager to be free of this room, which felt like it had hardly enough air in it to breathe. You grasped the handle again when Tywin spoke one last time.

“And girl—” You froze, gripping the handle, breath caught in your throat, and the sudden anxiety gripped you that he would tell you to stay away from Oberyn Martell. But all he said was, “—shut the door behind you.”

—

You didn’t think you could stay away from Oberyn, even if Tywin had asked. It had quickly become a routine, him waiting across the path from the building which held your chambers. You clung ferociously onto the small shred of something predictable in the sea of chaos that this city had washed upon you.

As you tied your bodice behind you hastily, you craned your neck to look over at Sansa, where she was still nestled in the blankets behind you. Her side rose and fell softly in the rhythm of sleep. Padding over, you knelt down, pressing a light kiss against the crown of her head. She rustled momentarily among the sheets, but didn’t wake.

Oberyn was standing in the usual area, arm extended overhead to pry some fruit off a nearby tree. With a small grunt, he freed one that was round and reddish in colour — you were still so unfamiliar with the fruits that grew this far south.

Flashing you his enticing smile, he extended it out to you. You took it with gratitude, allowing him to loop your opposite arm through his. He was warm, the warmth of his skin radiating out as if he’d trapped the air of Dorne within his very body and brought it with him to King’s Landing.

He paraded you superficially through the garden paths lined with Lannister and Baratheon guards, their eyes smoothly looking over the pair of you, some giving small nods in greeting, used to the timely walks you took.

You took a turn down a hedge lined path, the green walls rising high above your heads, and the guard stationed near the next turn leaning back, his view obscured. Oberyn placed his hand gently at your back, pulling the branches back around the gap in the hedge you had found some days prior. You both slipped underneath.

The other side contained an obviously neglected portion of the gardens, some weeds overgrown and flowing out of their beds. Wildflowers had begun to bloom as well, their colours mismatched and vibrant, contrasting to those in the rest of the gardens that were tended to regularly. You much preferred these ones.

You sat on the nearby bench, tucking your skirts in around your legs, allowing the weight of the pretense of happiness to slip off, your shoulders relaxing. Oberyn sat beside you, his knee touching yours, heat radiating from the spot. You turned the still uneaten fruit over in your hands.

“You look far away today, little wolf,” he murmured. “Is it the King’s wedding?” He lightly brushed a lock of hair over your shoulder, fingers remaining to play with it.

“No,” you sighed. “Well, yes and no, I—” You paused, meeting his dark eyes. He stared back into you, waiting patiently. You wanted to lose yourself in his eyes, to dive in so deeply you could not see anything beyond them. “I spoke with Tywin Lannister.”

Something flashed in those eyes, briefly, but unmistakably. Still, he didn’t push you for any detail. He brought his hand down from your hair, settling it on your shoulder, thumb rubbing back and forth. It sat on the edge of your gown, and occasionally his skin came into contact with the skin near your neck. You suppressed a shudder at the feeling.

You finally broke eye contact with Oberyn, unable to look at him for the next words. “He intends for me to wed Jaime Lannister. As soon as he can convince him to leave the Kingsguard. Perhaps he will even overturn their oaths, so that Jaime can marry regardless …” You trailed off, shaking your head.

“What would you want? If you had the choice?” His eyes were warm when you looked back up, his brow furrowed. His free hand clenched where it sat in his lap.

“I don’t know, honestly, I … I thought I would be able to make these choices with my Father, but now—” You bit down on your lip harshly as a sob threatened to work its way up and out of your throat. Oberyn’s hands quickly came to cup your face, holding it steadily as you took deep breaths. “The Lannisters … have taken my home, my family. I don’t want to give them my future as well … there are so many things I don’t want Jaime Lannister to have.”

A few tears slipped down your cheeks, despite your best efforts. Oberyn gently swiped them away, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. You could feel his warm breath against your face, and it was pleasant, and smelled of the fruit filled Dornish wine he loved. His lips were tinted from it as well.

“Is there anything I can do, little wolf? I hate to see you this way,” he whispered to you, even though you were alone and shielded by so much greenery.

“Let me give you something,” your voice shook as you matched his whispered tone. “Before he can take it from me.” When your hands slid up to the back of his neck, you knew the implication was clear.

He swallowed thickly. “I do not want to take advantage of you when you are upset, little wolf.”

“Please.”

It was both a second and an eternity before he brought his lips to yours. Your heart pounded in your chest as his hands tightened on your face, guiding your head as your lips slid against one another.

After the first few presses, he stopped, though he didn’t pull back, your breath intermingling in the miniscule space between you. Your eyes were screwed shut, but you raked your hands up, into his hair. He gave a breathless laugh before crashing back into you, lips pressing insistently now, the taste of his sweet wine permeating into your mouth.

Firmly but gently, his lips pried yours open, hot breath pouring into your mouth, filling your lungs. You felt yourself begin to shake with the intimacy of it. It felt as if he were providing you a new sense of life itself, with every touch, every breath, every sound he made. You had no idea how long it had been.

He swiped his tongue, wet and hot, over your lower lip, before taking it between his teeth, pulling it with him as he finally retreated from you.

With a heavy sigh, he reached an arm around your waist, resting his cheek against yours, and you lamented that you couldn’t see his eyes. You couldn’t even imagine the storms within them now.

You breathed heavily against his cheek, winded as though you’d been practicing your riding. You pressed him tighter against you, turning to plant a kiss onto the edge of his beard. His free hand twisted up into your hair.

“Thank you.”

—

Your hands drifted through the copper strands of Sansa’s hair, twisting the locks delicately around each other, as your mother had taught you. You smiled as you recalled how Sansa used to sit for hours, just letting you practice braiding in her hair, happy to receive attention and affections.

By the Gods, she had changed.

You pushed the thought aside as your hands left her, and you leaned over to peck her cheek, which had been dusted with rouge. “You look beautiful.”

Sansa wouldn’t meet your eyes in the mirror, staring at her own hands curled in her lap. You laid your hands on her shoulders, squeezing lightly.

“Sansa … this is a day to celebrate. Because you are not the one marrying him.” She looked up to meet your gaze, her eyes brimming with conflicted emotions.

“But they made me marry his uncle. A man decades my senior, an imp, I …” She shook her head. “He hasn’t hurt me, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. Joffrey had to have gotten his sense of cruelty from somewhere.”

Your hands tightened where they held her. “I will never let him touch you. Or anyone, Sansa. I mean that.”

She stood, shaking off your grip. She was taller than you now, all long lines and elegant neck and the deep, irreconcilable sadness of her eyes.

You wondered if she saw that in yours, too.

“And what if you’re not there?”

You wanted to tell her that you always would be, that no force of man or the Gods could take you from her. But the words caught in your throat. The words your mother and father had told you, as well. Words that had proven not to be true, in the end.

A knock on the door from Shae saved you from the moment. She escorted you out into the bright southern morning. Everyone you passed seemed to have an extra bounce in their step, an extra swing to their arms, extra wide smiles on their faces. Apparently it didn’t matter how awful the King was, if there was still a wedding to throw.

You had to admit the attitude was infectious. And a well needed relief, after the months you had spent waking in terror, your dreams filled with your sister being married to King Joffrey, irreversibly tied to him by the laws of Gods and men.

The King’s breakfast was being held in the gardens, in full bloom now and having been prepared for weeks for this event. A long table sat as the clear focal piece of the area; Tywin, Cersei, and Cersei’s young son Tommen sat there already. Cersei and her father were discussing something in a low voice, despite the loud levels of ambient noise.

A chill shot down your spine as Tywin’s sharp eyes fell upon you, and you looked away quickly.

“This way, my lady,” Shae urged Sansa towards the direction of the King’s table, and you gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as she left your side.

It was clear the breakfast would not be starting until the King arrived, so you wandered the elaborately decorated area.

Everything seemed to drip in gold, the sheer grandeur of it all overwhelming to your eyes. Tables were laden with every type of fruit and cheese you’d seen since arriving in King’s Landing, and some you hadn’t seen. You spotted one of the red, sweet fruits that Oberyn had picked for you the other day.

“Lady Stark.” Jaime Lannister approached where you stood, hands awkwardly clasping behind his back. You’d heard the rumours from the maids that he’d returned from captivity with one less hand. You hoped Robb had been the one to take it.

“My lord,” you greeted, giving a shallow curtsy. You weren’t exactly sure what the appropriate address was for a man who was not your betrothed but likely would be once he bent to his father’s will.

“Are you enjoying the … uh …” He swallowed. He gestured with one hand — a flesh one — to the surroundings. “... festivities?”

You nodded. “Yes, it’s all very beautiful. You must be very happy to be here to see the King marry.” You knew the words came out somewhat clipped, tense, but you could do little to smooth them.

“I— well yes, it’s been…” He trailed off, clearing his throat. His eyes shifted around the area, seeming like they didn’t want to settle on you where you stood. “I … I know this is no consolation, but I admired your mother. She was a strong woman. A strong mother.”

Swallowing thickly, you cast your eyes down to the table, hand clenching at your side, eyes burning suddenly with the weight of his words.

He started to flounder, obviously putting together that this was not the right thing to say, but before he could sputter himself into a frenzy, a warm hand slid over the small of your back.

“Lady Stark, I was in search of your company.” Oberyn was there, his hand a steady weight against you, reassuring. “If you will excuse me, Ser Jaime.” He flashed a dashing smile at Jaime, who nodded eagerly for relief.

“Thank you,” you sighed, as he led you away from the buffet table. He stopped you once you’d reached a round dining table, which you assumed he’d been seated at. Turning you slightly, he placed a hand to your cheek, looking at you intently. Heat rose to your face as you wondered who was watching.

“Was he bothering you?” he asked, his voice impossibly low.

You shook your head, eyes unable to tear away from his. “No, no, he was just … no.”

For a moment you both stood there, unable to move, until a serving aide passed close by, snapping the tension like a matchstick. Oberyn’s hand left you, pulling out a chair for you. He sat beside you, posture relaxed as he poured goblets of wine, the sweet aroma wafting from the cups. He placed one in front of you, noticing your brief hesitation.

“Do you drink wine?” He smirked, watching as you held it beneath your nose.

“I have tried it, but …” You eyed the contents. It was dark in colour, so rich you couldn’t see through the liquid to the bottom of the cup. “At feasts in Winterfell. I always thought it tasted vile.”

He laughed at that, his head thrown back, and you admired the column of his neck, the golden skin, the muscles you could see move beneath the skin, the smattering of stubble that came down from his beard. You wanted to run your lips up it.

“Try it,” he insisted, bringing his own goblet to his lips. “They do not know how to make wine in the North. A Dornish wine will change your life.”

You smiled at him over your cup, raising it to taste the drink. Sweetness bloomed on your tongue, filling your mouth with tastes of fruits you’d had and fruits you never could have imagined. Heat seemed to follow its trail down your throat.

“Do you like it?” He smiled at you. His hand casually reached up, trailing up and down your arm.

“Oberyn …” You eyed his hand wearily. You couldn’t bring yourself to push it away, but you knew it was too bold of him to touch you so knowingly in the open. At the King’s wedding breakfast, no less.

He was interrupted in whatever he was going to say by the arrival of the King, who settled at the head table, where Tyrion had joined Sansa. A line of lords, ladies, and nobles brought forth gifts of all kinds. Oberyn rested his arm on the back of your chair. A goblet from Mace Tyrell, graciously accepted. A book from Tyrion, which Joffrey scoffed at.

You could feel the tension roll off of Oberyn in waves as the Mountain approached the table. You placed a hand on his thigh underneath the table, where no one could see, squeezing there. He carried a sword, which he placed on the head table. Tywin stood.

“One of only two Valyrian steel swords in the capital, your Grace, freshly forged in your honour.”

Valyrian steel. Freshly forged.

The words were ringing in your head as Joffrey excitedly unsheathed the sword, swinging it wildly.

“Such a great sword should have a name. What should I call her?”

Calls came out from the crowd around you.

“Stormbringer!”

“Terminus!”

“Widow’s Wail!”

“Wolfsbane!”

Your breathing was heavy.

Joffrey smirked. “Widow’s Wail. I like that. Every time I use it, it’ll be cutting off Ned Stark’s head all over again.”

You shut your eyes, hand unintentionally grasping tighter onto Oberyn’s leg. He gently pried your fingers off, and you turned to apologize, but he just flipped your hand over, intertwining your fingers, hidden under the table covering.

And as you looked at him, you thought you could see that same irreconcilable sadness in his eyes, too.

—

taglist: @asta-lily @pedrostories @rpcvliz @xsadderdazeforeverx @elinedjarin @qhbr2013 @punkerthanpascal

#mywriting #the red wolf #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn x reader #oberyn martell #game of thrones #got #asoiaf

[triptuckers]

Two Homes (part 3/7) - Nikolai Lantsov

Request: nope Pairing:  Nikolai Lantsov x reader Summary:  you’ve successfully escaped the ball room, but you run into someone you had been trying to avoid when you’re in the gardens Warnings: lil angst, mentions of gunshots and blood Word count:  2K A/N: hehe he is here !! finally lol enjoy reading! PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (two homes and/or all grishaverse fics): @godsofwriting @im-constantly-fangirling  @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15 @dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha @story-scribbler @romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey (if your name is in bold it means I couldn’t tag you) add yourself to my tag lists here 

You can faintly hear the music in the ball room. But the closer you get to the gardens, the more you have to concentrate to be able to hear the music. You can’t help but to smile to yourself. You made it out of the ball room. 

All you had to do was wait until the ball was over and you would be on your way back to Ketterdam. Your father would probably be furious at you. But it was about time he learned he couldn’t continue to control your life.

As you’re walking through the gardens, the many different flowers take your breath away. You didn’t have a ball room like the one you just left in Ketterdam. You also certainly didn’t have a garden like this. 

You walk the paths, amazed by the plants around you. You had never seen something like this before. If King Nikolai would have invited you to this garden instead of a ball, you might have seriously considered accepting his invitation.

Time passes as you admire the extraordinary flowers surrounding you. The palace has long since vanished from your eyesight, and the sun is almost gone. You can see some stars in the sky already. 

Even though you didn’t want to come here, even though you spent the entire journey getting here wishing for Ketterdam, you couldn’t deny you’d be upset if you had missed out on the beautiful gardens. 

You wonder if the ball has already ended, and want to make your way back to the palace, when you see a silhouette in the distance. Did someone else escape the ball to go to the gardens? Or worse; did someone follow you when you leapt from the balcony?

Though you’re in the gardens near a palace and not in the streets of Ketterdam, you’re still on edge by a stranger’s presence. You stop walking and listen closely to their movements, ready to strike should they attack you. 

You watch from a distance as they walk closer. Hands behind their back, slowly walking through the garden. You notice the way their shoulders slump a little. Tired of the dancing maybe? Or trying to deceive you?

When they walk closer, and the last bit of sunshine falls on their face, you see blonde hair and a pair of hazel eyes.

A look of surprise finds its way onto his face when he spots you. 

‘Well, hello.’ he says, sounding genuinely surprised to see another person in the gardens. ‘I believe we haven’t met?’ 

You shake your head. ‘No, we haven’t.’ you say.

He looks up and down your dress, sending goosebumps along your bare arms. You couldn’t deny he was indeed as handsome as described in the stories. 

‘I’d say you fled the ball.’ he says. ‘I’m Nikolai, I don’t think you were introduced before the ball started.’

You notice how he introduces himself as Nikolai, and not as the king. 

‘I didn’t flee.’ you say. ‘And no, I wasn’t introduced.’ 

‘Oh, that wasn’t a question.’ says Nikolai. ‘Merely a statement. I’d remember a dress and a face like that.’ 

Your lips slightly part in surprise. ‘Do you flirt with every woman you meet tonight?’ you ask.

‘Do you flee from every ball you attend?’ he says without missing a beat, making you chuckle.

‘This is the first ball I’ve ever been to.’ you admit. 

‘Apparently it’s not a very good one, given that you left before it even started.’ he says.

‘It’s not about wether or not it’s a good ball.’ you say. ‘I just didn’t want to be in Ravka.’

‘But you are here.’ he points out.

‘Because my father basically dragged me here.’ you say, crossing your arms. 

‘Your father, is he a Kerch merchant? There was one who didn’t introduce his daughter because she wasn’t there. So, that would mean you’re Y/F/N /Y/L/N, right?’ says Nikolai.

‘You’re good.’ you say.

‘I’m good at a number of things.’ he says with a wink. 

‘Clearly.’ you say. 

Nikolai smiles and holds out his arm to you. ‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ he says.

You look at him extending his arm to you, smile on his lips and a twinkling in his eyes. You were dying to know why he had left the ball as well, and you actually didn’t mind the company. It made you curious and eager to find out if the stories you had heard about him are true.

So you nod with a smile, and lay a hand on his arm.

‘I’ll take you to my favorite spot in the gardens.’ he says, steering the two of you onto one of the paths.

‘Can I ask you a question?’ you say.

‘Of course.’ says Nikolai.

‘Why did you leave the ball?’ you say.

Nikolai looks at you and smiles. ‘Because even though I’m an excellent dancer, I also need breaks.’ he says. ‘I needed some fresh air.’

‘Are you really good at dancing or are you trying to impress me?’ you say.

‘Take your pick.’ he says.

For someone who didn’t want to be here and who had no intention of meeting the king, you found yourself starting to like him. He’s easy to talk to, and seems genuinely interested in you. And he’s not offended to find you in the gardens instead of the ball room.

‘Was it your idea to throw this ball to pick a bride?’ you say as you walk past a plant with particularly large orange flowers.

Nikolai sighs softly. ‘No.’ he says. ‘It was a decision made by Zoya and Genya, two of my triumvirate.’ 

‘Because they wanted you to marry?’ you say.

‘Because they wanted me to form an alliance and because I couldn’t establish one through politics, they thought I should try getting one through marriage.’ he says. 

You look at him, trying to read his face. ‘But you don’t want that.’ you say.

Nikolai looks at you and raises an eyebrow. ‘I personally don’t want to marry someone I don’t know for the sake of an alliance. But it’s what’s best for Ravka. And I like to put Ravka’s needs first.’ he says.

‘Spoken like a true king.’ you say. 

‘Well, I try to be a good one.’ he says as the two of you sit down on a bench.

‘From the stories I heard, you are.’ you say.

‘Really?’ says Nikolai. ‘Fancy telling me one of them?’

You laugh and shake your head. ‘I’m sure you’ve already heard them.’ you say.

‘What would it take for you to tell me one of those stories?’ says Nikolai.

You shrug. ‘A ticket to Ketterdam?’ you say.

He frowns. ‘You really want to go back that badly?’ he says.

‘No offence, but yes. I’ve been wanting to go back ever since the ship sailed away. Don’t take it personal, but I never had any intention of going to Os Alta in the first place.’ you say.

‘I understand.’ he says.

You look at him, confused. ‘You do?’

‘What, you think people haven’t made decisions for me my entire life?’ he says. ‘I know what it’s like not being able to make your own choices. I do appreciate you actually coming, though. You’re the first person I've talked to tonight who doesn’t throw themselves at me before I can even say hello.’ 

You laugh at his words. ‘Sorry for not throwing myself at you. Though I’m sure you’re used to it by now.’ you say.

Nikolai laughs as well. ‘Don’t apologise, it’s refreshing.’ he says.  

The two of you are silent as you look at the plants that surround you. It’s rather peaceful, being away from the buzzing ball room and just sitting on a bench to have a conversation.

‘Why is this your favourite part or the gardens?’ you ask him after a while.

In response, Nikolai points to a bush of bright yellow flowers. ‘Those are my favourites.’ he says. ‘Native to Novyi Zem, but Grisha can make sure they can grow here as well. They bloom for very short periods of time, mostly it’s just one week during summer. That’s why the Zemeni call them Summer’s Week. They’ve always been my favourite flowers. I always visit this spot during each summer, to see them bloom.’ he explains.

‘They’re beautiful.’ you say. ‘Such a shame we don’t have gardens like this in Ketterdam. I would have loved to spend more time here.’

‘I’d invite you to stay, but that would mean I'd have to propose and you made it very clear you want to go back to Ketterdam.’ says Nikolai. 

He gets up and walks over to the bush with the yellow flowers. You watch as he carefully picks one and walks back to you. He smiles as he hands it to you.

‘You can have one.’ he says. ‘If it still looks good when you get to Ketterdam, you can dry it, keep it between the pages of a book or something.’ he says.

You smile as you take the flower from him. ‘Thank you.’ you say. 

Nikolai looks back in the direction of the palace, though you can’t see it from here. 

‘I should go back.’ he says. ‘They’re probably wondering where I am, and I’d rather not have Zoya organise a search party.’

‘She’d do that?’ you say.

‘You have no idea what she’s capable of.’ says Nikolai, offering you his arm once more. You accept it and rise to your feet. 

As you start to walk back to the palace, Nikolai looks at you and smiles when he catches your eye.

‘This has been nice.’ he says.

‘The gardens?’ you say.

‘I can visit the gardens any time I like. No, talking with you. You allow me to be Nikolai. Everyone in that ball room only thinks of me as a king. They only think of themselves as future queens.’ he says.

‘But they are potential queens.’ you say. Nikolai looks at you and you remember his words. ‘Right.’ you say. ‘For Ravka.’

You see the palace appear in the distance, and by the looks of it the ball is still in full swing. You sigh softly, not looking forward to reuniting with your father and having him yell at you.

‘Well, here we are.’ says Nikolai, stopping in front of the palace. He motions to your left. ‘The doors are that way.’ he says. ‘And even though there are no gardens over there, we do have a lake which is also very nice.’ he says while motioning to your right.

You let go of his arm and frown. ‘You don’t want me to return to the ball?’ you say.

Nikolai merely shrugs. ‘Why would I? You don’t want to go there, and I’m not your king so technically, you don’t have to do anything I say.’ he says.

‘You really are an extraordinary king.’ you say, making him smile. ‘I see why your people love you so much.’ 

‘Hearing anyone say that means a lot to me.’ says Nikolai. He moves to stand in front of you. ‘Are you sure I can’t convince you to come and have one dance with me?’ he says.

You smile. ‘I think I’ll check out the lake.’ you say.

‘Alright then.’ says Nikolai, walking away toward the doors. ‘But watch out for the sea monster, though.’ he adds.

Your eyes widen. ‘You have a sea monster in your lake?’ you say.

But you never found out the answer. Before Nikolai can say anything, you hear a sound you know all tho well. How could you not recognise it after living in Ketterdam for years? 

Gunshots. Two of them. 

You watch as Nikolai falls to the floor, blood soaking his shoulder and stomach.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

#he is here !!! #nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fanfics #nikolai lantsov fic #nikolai lantsov fics #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone fanfics #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fics #two homes series