#inquiry • kingdom hearts

[worldly-diversity]

@lionfated ○ 𝕝𝕖𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕒 ○

         ⤷  『  “ stop punishing yourself. please. you don’t deserve it. ”  』

The ragged breath he tried to take in an attempt to follow the advice tore through his lungs and throat like sand, tearing up tissue and seemingly depriving him of even more air than he was already suffering from.

He'd isolated after his rashness lost them Kairi. She was gone and there was no way to get her back and it was all his fault for letting Xehanort taunt him into rushing in, thoughtless and reckless as ever because somehow that had worked for him right until it didn't anymore and the cost was too much to bear. Yet he had to bear it, because there was no escaping the emptiness in his chest where his connection to Kairi had once resided. A bright light, bright hope, forever extinguished…

Leon had come looking for him and had eventually tracked him down, tucked away in a corner of the Secret Place that honestly should not even have fit Leon yet somehow it did. And for some reason he was here, not Riku, not the other light of his heart, whose radiance seemed to have dimmed with Kairi's loss as well. They both suffered, but Riku hadn't sought him out yet, and part of him was sure that deep down Riku blamed him for this. Surely they all had to, the way Sora himself did.

The next breath tore through him involuntarily, stuttering and unbalanced by the anguish rife within his chest. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think— There was only the endless feeling of loss, of pain, and even gathering air through it was a chore almost too difficult to bare.

He curled up further only to notice his nose and cheeks brushing against wet fabric, something that startled him through his next rasped breath. He hadn't been aware he'd been crying, sobbing his heart out really, until Leon called out to him, returning him to some form of awareness he couldn't bring himself to be grateful for despite the odds he'd have asphyxiated himself somehow during all this.

"Yes I do." The whisper comes out as a snap, rasping for breath once more before attempting to bury his face as well as his mind back into the fragile refuge he'd created.

She wouldn't want this for him though. He knows that, and somehow it only makes things worse. Leon only wants to help, hates seeing him so upset and lost, and that makes it worse too. His guilt is growing guilt, go figure…

.

#lionfated #universe • kingdom hearts #inquiry • kingdom hearts #interactions • sora #answered #please ask before continuing #into the void • queue #i'm almost tempted to tag qc for this. that's how hard the damn thing hits xD #nvm i'm muted to it rn bc i had to write it so it feels technical to me at the moment #catch me rereading it in a month and THEN getting hit with all the feels you're gonna slam into now xD

[ladythornofrivia]

Kingdom of Fire & Blood || (Part One)

🐉 MASTERLIST 🐉

Next Chapter

summary: modern!reader woke up in Westeros after getting drunk.

pair: aemond x reader

warnings & disclaimer: smut, violence, p in v sex, sexual content, aemond being arrogant but is secretly a softie, modern reader doesn’t know how the world of GOT works but is a Aemond stan, praise kink, breeding kink, spitting kink, voice kink, fluff, angst—family drama, oral sex, hate sex, jealousy, stalking, virginity loss, obsession, reader being sassy and aroused, sweet moments with reader and aemond. Reader is a huge GOT & HOTD fan. Pro-Green, Reader is a green supporter. Aemond becomes king instead of Aegon. (P.S. Alys who? I only know Aemond x Reader).

a/n: it’s official! It’s here! I hope you enjoy my fanfic series of ‘Kingdom of Fire and Blood’.

Chapter One: The Dark Uproar

In a realm of dragons and knights,

There lays with conquer and fear, from scorching summer through bleak winters, through life of air and fire and ashes.

In a realm of nobility and law, in the halls of mountain and sea,

the green star has shed upon the dark, cloudless sky, wedged upon the shrouded waters of Westeros.

The green star has emerged.

“Seize her! Don’t let her get away!” the man pointed at you dashing away from the scenery.

It’s a dream. You were sure that it’s a dream. Dreams occurred in a blurry vision, not by transparency. Dreams are often—and easily—forgotten once awake after the newborn daylight arises.

In a midst of pursuit, you retraced back your steps. You went at your friend’s celebration, then eat and watched anime— you didn’t have much vigor to spare for removing your makeup due to sleepiness. The last thing you ever did was you resting on your warm bed without a change of clothing, now dry and shivering, laying down on a half-parched sand, half-asleep while unsure of what’s happening before your arrival. You were unconscious deeply in your sleep you weren’t aware of the commotion you have caused, awoken by the young knight, who found you in the brink of nightfall—who fled and carried you—travelled within distance for three days.

Under a huffed breath, legs and feet numbed as you carried yourself away to stray paths where band of guards weren’t able to trace you accurately. You’re much lighter and faster with sprinting; due to their armor, they couldn’t move they so desire. Even more so when some guards have horses with them. Or hounds barking with thirst for a good gnaw on your youthful flesh.

Until now, you’re steadfast with rush. Harsh wind blasted in your earholes at the stallion’s speed.

Your mind is raced with previous encounter, mind occupied with millions of panic inquiries.

~ before the chase ~

Previously, with your skin and bones beneath your tight crop top shirt and tennis skirt quivering at a spine-tingling weather, despite the lack of storming wind, you have no idea where to begin on what to say to the young knight but offering him a small yet timid smile to lessen the intensity of cumbersome fate that’s forcefully thrusted upon you, oblivious and frightened, shaking like a grumpy feline that despises water or anything that touches the feline.

Upon the yearnings of a weeping locked inside your heaving chest, of begging and wanting to go home was futile, estranged within a foreign land. As the vexed fate of anxiety clambered into your heart, the staggering breaths and rasps in your voice and your loud thoughts has been noticed by a young man in fancy armor, bestowing you with a relieved grin etched on his weary features. You’re certain that Halloween is over.

“You have awaken,” he said with a brightened grin, though you weren’t focused on the sound of his voice, but saw his lips shifted.

Noticing the young man’s eyes, you were positive that no one wouldn’t rescue a stranger such as yourself. Groaning, you leaned your back against over the bulkiness of a tumbled tree. Fire flickered and crackled like bones snapped to pieces.

“Can you hear me, my lady?” he asked, alarmed yet almost as quiet; he didn’t wish to see you alert under his aid.

“My lady,” you repeated, lifting your heavy-numbing head, confused as you were shaking with your eyes sealed with bursting pink stars flowing in your black vision, ears, head and heart pounded against you wakened state. Sighing, you resumed with, “How long have I been unconscious?”

“For three days,” he said, the soft outline of his lips curled upward, as if he was relieved to see you alive and well. Your eyes examined him, spotting the clean armor and a long sword carried in his sheath.

“What happened?”

“I saw you lying unconscious, so I have to come and save you, hoping that you’re alive.”

Everything was bizarre at this point.

“Save me?” you asked the boy, subconscious, coughing out the thick, salted water, clutching your chest tight, pounding for the leftover to drain.

“Yes, my lady,” the young man said with a kind smile, but his glassy eyes beamed against your frightful ones, covered in soot, despite being drenched. “I was sent by my father for a further alliance with another house, but as soon as I left the castle, I found lying you unconscious in the midst of the ocean. I have swam my way to rescue you.”

“Where did you find me exactly? I’m all wet,” you commented, lips curled in disgust your clothes are caked in black sand and puddle.

“I found you by the shores, and took you in quick before anyone could search on the grounds.”

Your head was pounding.

“Shores?”

“At Blackwater Bay,” he explained.

Blackwater Bay, you thought as your fingernails scraped onto your wet scalp. That name sounds familiar.

The back of your head was pounding. “Are we still at Blackwater Bay?”

“We travelled within three days while you were in your subconscious state. A fewer miles ahead and you’re already in the kingdom.”

Then the skies filled with an animalistic roar, screeching like nails on a chalkboard.

Your ears covered and shoulder blades flinched at the long, grating sound.

Your shoulders flinched as you said, “What the hell is that?”

The young man still grinned, remaining silenced from your projected inquiry.

“They’re still frightened of the sound,” is all he said. “Of the light.”

You eyed on him with perplexed expression resting on your features.

“What light?” you wondered. “What did you mean when you ‘they’re still frightened of the sound’?”

“Dragons,” the young man said, eyes twinkled. “You came down here with the light, and that’s what’s causing the uproar.”

You found his cryptic statement alarmingly bizarre due to his faint enthusiasm.

“We’re reaching close to our destination,” he said, but you still don’t comprehend.

Bewildered, before you could ask another, the clanging sounds of metal and flickering flames on a torch and countless heavy stomps dashed on its way to your direction.

“Allow me to escort you to safety. These guards are brutal than ravage beasts,” he said to you. “I can’t let a young maiden die in vain.”

Your breath held in shortly.

“Which way should I go? Is there a safe spot for me to hide?”

“Take the nearest path down on a pebbled road and hide. From there, you’ll see the narrow passage, one where no one uses. Traitors and spies lurking about the lower grounds.” and kept heading The young man pushed you, guided you and instructed you to conceal behind the large and sharp boulder, while your legs shaken, air colder than ice. However, another realization dawned upon your wake. You have nowhere to go. Not in this foreign land.

Thoughts conjured and slice your numb mind open. Death is near me; I’ll be killed if I don’t have something with me.

“Where am I heading to?”

“Somewhere far where they can’t reach you or trace your steps. You’re heading to a place where the crown’s might is still strong.”

You paused in your tracks. Wait, that can’t be right.

The rumbled noise made it’s passage close to your location, causing for your heart and his sprung with immense fear.

Both of you reached in time as he hoisted your body up on the saddle. Before whipping the reins on the horse, the young man gave you the dagger with a symbol on his shining armor. The same sigil the knight has on his armor—or so it appears. “You’ll be in safer hands if you carry something with you.”

“If we meet again, I’ll return this blade back to you.”

His eyes gazed into yours with a sad smile.

“Still, I don’t even know your name.”

He grasped your hand shortly. He smiled. “Ser Remon Blackwood.”

The pounded hooves reached a louder noise, getting near to your direction.

“Thank you, Ser Blackwood,” you said.

Remon Blackwood had his hand reached out to yours. “You share kindness like no other. Not like the people in the realm with conquering dragons. It’s an honor to meet you, my lady,” he said, giving you a one last smile.

“Dragons?” you questioned in shock.

He gave a hard slap on the horse’s front leg, as he watched his given horse galloped with you giving one last look onto the despairing knight with a somber smile.

Your eyes darted forward, leaving your ears perceiving the traced sounds of sword clashed and rang, forest filled with raged shouts.

Afar, a young knight plea for mercy, then a long-produced sounds of swords slipped through cracked armor and bones, blood shed and slimed over the forest ground.

Then nothing; only the solid ripples of the heavy hooves and a rushed wind from a great stallion’s speed deafened onto your ears.

The good knight is dead.

And the nightfall became colder.

~ present ~

The horse nearly reached to a wide-ranged road when five of the men continued to pursuit you, eyes preyed on you at the back of your head, drilling and contain in unyielding desire of violence.

“Kill the bitch!” one man shouted.

Looking over to your shoulder, on your left, you saw the man on the right drew out a bow, and sent the arrow down at your back. But you managed to duck in time. With an irritated huff, the man sent another blow with the second arrow. You ducked your head once more, gazing back, then forth, then back again.

Heart pounding in your chest; the distance between them began to shrink.

“For fuck’s sake,” the first man bellowed, wrinkles on his forehead protruded, veins on his neck were visible. “Sent the arrow flying down on that bitch’s neck, you good for nothing prick!”

The second man’s face went pale. “I’m trying, sire.”

“Try harder, you useless fucktwad!”

Clutched fingers against the writhed reins grew tired, the steadiness in your breath increased tenfold in suffocation, heart rate escalated twice as strong—feeling hot and cold all at once. Cold sweat plastered to your clutched hands as you whipped the reins harder, indicating a sign for the stallion advance farther. The pace began to slow; you whipped the reins, but no to avail.

“Please, hurry,” you begged, head leaning against the horse’s ear, holding onto your dear life as death still awaits for you.

The man reload with the third arrow. His aim targeted to your face. For a second, he went still with his aim, but immediately shot at the back of the horse’s leg. The back of the horse’s limbs tripped and flipped in mid-air, sent you flying forward with a loud clash on the forest ground that nearly shattered your back and ribcage. Ears rang and eyes shut with gritted teeth droned a sharp hiss from your lips as the men dismounted down and marched their towered over you crumpled form.

Immediately, you gathered your shattered form and fled with your hidden in plain sight. The limp on your leg made a painfully deliberate pace as you attempt to go farther while the men with cloaks and big swords, following you, wearing a yellow and crooked teeth on their lips, sniggering at your flee. And by the time you reached at the centered road, nearly to the exit, your path has been blocked by two more men, who you unaware of the extra company. One man grabbed a fistful of your hair and dragged you down. Drawing the dagger out, your hand brought down on his foot, then his knee, then his thigh—never minding the hysterical noise. Loosening the grip on your head, while on your knees, with a support of your foot, you spun around and stabbed a knee from another man.

You couldn’t scream or cry for help anymore. After all, you’re drowsy from ocean water, still wet and lost, in an unwonted void of labyrinth.

“What shall we do of this little cunt?” the man with a thin beard said.

“We’re going to make a use of her, bore into her with my seed and carry the filthy bastard inside her,” the second man with a short, uneven bowl cut suggested confidently. “After that, I’ll eat her flesh.”

“Stupid cunt can’t even fend for herself,” the third man, who was shorter than you said, cackling. “Let’s all take turns then. Whoever makes her scream the hardest, will get to keep her as a toy.”

One man undo his armor on the half-bottom, the clanging armor bumped in haste rhythm, as all the men who towered over your sicken stature, shed their trousers out.

Before one could pull the long cock out, with a knife in your hand, given by the young knight, you sliced his cock apart, left him wailing like an infant, blood splattered like waterfall. The men hovered you with their grubby hands, but you dodged—rolled back and took a hard swing at the man on your left, chopped his hand off. With the knife on your hand, it felt more like a short sword.

Another man has struck.

The bulky man in the middle plunged a full swing on your belly. Yelping, your arms encompassed over your flesh as the man plunged another blow with his hardened boot. His eyes gaze over the blade and punted it over to the side, then stomped over your belly and breasts in repeated motion until he grows tired. Once his foot has grown fatigue, he grabbed your thighs and spread them apart.

���No…” you said, pleading and crying. “Please don’t!”

The man dragged your panties and your tennis skirt down in barbarous motion. “Stay still and be a good wench,” he said, muddy fingers traced over your skin. You bit his fingers, drawing hot blood.

Enraged, his hands strangled you. With quick thinking, you knee slammed against his balls and kicked his face, crawling away before retrieving the dagger back, the man stomped over your left wrist, your mouth opened, but no sound came except the twinge of pain searing in your bones.

“You should’ve listen and stay still like a dog,” the man sneering, pulling your hair back again. The blurriness in your eyes worsened.

With your bones and limbs have been shattered, the hope in you began to fade. No hopes of a savior or luck stayed in hand with your despair.

His boot lunched another blow struck against your face, only to be bled through your nose, your body is broken and immovable, you couldn’t find yourself speaking, or cry for aid. Nothing good ever comes.

Except you’re alive. In fact, you were letting your guard down—pretending to be dead, abiding for the enemy to make a hasty error. The squint on your right eye left a little gap, seeing the man, kneeling down on you as he took off his trousers merrily. But as he splayed his cock out in the cold air, you managed the seize the dagger, tackled him and slashed his throat, while alive, the dagger impaled him through one of his eyes, then nose, then cheek—spare vigor imploded under a last sheer of your quick anger. The man’s face and mouth flowed with warm blood, choking and plopped down back on the surface with a thunderous thud.

From there, you stood once more and limped your way through the exit from the forest’s road in so little steps.

Only remains are the trees billowed and rustled and swayed through a gentle, cool breeze, and with you exhaling with a cautious breath you held in your chest and limbs worn out and limped as your vision drown into darkness.

~~~

Ser Criston Cole accompanied the band of men through the forest, as for they ought to repose for a short while. Sundowns became long, and the dragons in the heavens unyielded through an unforgiving climate.

The dragons don’t bear the coldness of wintry-like air. In the old days of Valyria, centuries before the time of Viserys’s reign, none of the great dragons and its people survived the Doom of Valyria, and within the errored times, from moving Essos to Westeros, dragons hatched into a total of eighteen—mighty and proud and carnivorous and bloodthirsty, though tamed through the influence of their rightful owners—heirlooms and foundation of companionship and trust between those who have the blood of a Valyria and connections through history. For instance, Vhagar is the second largest dragon compare to the other dragon riders owned. Dragons are obedient when those who dialect in Valyrian tongue, if not some. Some takes a special gift to have certain trust with a dragon, and dragon shares it’s mutual respect to the owner.

But it can’t say the same to the recent owners. The Blackwater Bay boomed nearby the Dragonstone. And during the nightly hours, the dragons were deeply asleep, though fully awakened by the quiet whiplash of what it appears to be none other than the small green light yet brightly shot downward from the vast of great, empty sky. Two nights ago, Prince Daemon tried to appease his dragon, Caraxes, the red scaly beast, but it’s clear enough to sent the prince with hesitation. Prince Daemon reached Caraxes with his hand for reassurance but Caraxes nearly snapped Prince Daemon’s hand in half. Criston Cole has neither seen Prince Daemon or Caraxes in the verge of calamity. Prince Daemon, a rogue prince who tends be as brute yet reckless and composed has been caught off guard.

The dragons have startled the men—knights and royals alike completely—peasants, too. The green starry light has fallen into the thundering waves, almost as if it was the end of Westeros. The booming wave from Blackwater Bay still lingers the aftermath effect. None slept through the night. They were returning to King’s Landing from meeting the lord from the north nearby the Blackwater Bay. But Prince Daemon, as always, fled away without considering so much of a wait for the others.

Under the gentle moonlight floating from the clouds, Ser Criston and his men galloped through the forest with their horses, hooves stomped over the twigs and dead leaves and the steeped grounds. By the time they reached into the monumental of pointed, red structures and gold and white in the city, Criston Cole couldn’t wait to repose and serve the Greens, mainly Queen Alicent, King Viserys’s second wife.

The stallion neighed loudly as it thrown its front hooves up in the air. Criston Cole’s heart leapt, somewhat appeasing his steed as the men behind him halted without a warning, causing others to nearly fall.

“What in the Seven Hells…” the man beside Criston Cole, took upon the glance at the fallen men in the midst of their exit.

Criston took the man’s torch and investigated the scenery. The fallen men all have bled from their knees to their open crotches. Hardness of their cock had flung out from a sharp blade. Criston winced at the sudden imagery flashed through his head.

“What could’ve done this…” a scrawny man said, perturbed.

“It must’ve been the work of a demon,” another man commented.

Criston moved onward, his legs carried him far and examined the view before him long before he reached to a figure, laying down. Rushing to her side, he noticed that her attire was far strangely and strikingly unique and bright compare what other women in the court wore. Turning her over, Criston settled his palm over her visage, pushing the long locks aside.

“My lady,” he muttered, still calm. While carrying the torch, he removed his glove with his teeth and touched her face. It was warm. Then he traced his hand below on the center of her chest.

Her heart in fact, still beating. He heaved with relief and called out to his men.

“This girl is alive! We must take her back to King’s Landing!” He passed the torch to the man beside him, who was following Criston without Criston noticed, and ripped his cloak off and wrapped the cloak around you and carried your unconscious body back to the men. Instructing the man to carry you while mounted on his horse and retrieved you back, placing you at the front.

“What of the Targaryens?” the man asked, somewhat scared.

Criston gave a sharp glare.

His fellow comrades, knowing Criston’s reputation, has not said a word, and followed Criston back to the realm where dragons reign.

Taglist: @liannafae

@ aemondswifffeeeyyy - all rights reserved

#fanfiction #fanfic #x reader #reader insert #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #game of thrones #got #fandom #multifandom #smut #ao3 #archive of our own #writers of tumblr #my writing #writer #writing #fanfics #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #aemond the kinslayer #house targaryen #targaryen #dance of the dragons #aemond x you #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader

[lilibethwrites]

Hello ! Im surprised how much im on love with Aemond right now, he's so interesting... I wanted to Ask for a scenario where he eavesdrops two Ladies and reader says that instead of being afraid and disgusted by his scar,shes more intrigued ...like she cant take her eyes from him. And now he wants to know who is so foolish. (I would probably stand still if he aproached me xD) thank you and have a nice.day

A Curse and a Blessing

Aemond Targaryen x F!Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, incest

Word count: 2023

A.N.: This was such a fun request to write! I think it's pretty self contained, but let me know if you'd like a second part to it.

Aegon II’s nameday celebrations were famed to bring lords and ladies from all across the Seven kingdoms to King’s Landing. Your mother, Princess Rhaenyra and your father, Prince Daemon were no exceptions to those who received invites. Thus, you and your step-brothers flew to the heart of the Throne for a week of feast and entertainment.

Aegon wasn’t seen much, and the conversations of the adults bore you to near death. Offers and pacts, tight-lipped smiles that hid grudges and oaths that were broken as soon as they were made. You had no taste for the arguments over who was the best swordsman of the realm or what material made the best breastplate that your brothers engaged in either.

So you found yourself among your childhood friends with whom you’d driven Septas and Maesters to madness when you were under their tutelage. Some were married, and some even with children already. Though they did not quite delve into the philosophical inquiries of just how much the realm suffered for the fall of Valyria, their gossip was suitable enough to pass the evening.

With your cup in hand, you seated yourself within the close circle that whispered and giggled.

“Oh, dear Y/N, come sit. We were just conversing on the charms of certain Princes.”

“Oh, come off it! I only said I would choose him if I absolutely had to. He is the handsome one of the three.”

“Well, I personally would give my favour to Ser Criston Cole, if you catch my drift.” one of the girls rubbed her swollen belly while staring at the man standing guard across the hall from them.

Y/N grimaced, only half-jokingly. She knew her mother wasn’t fond of Ser Criston, and neither was she.

“Jeyne, who is it that you would choose so… grudgingly? The handsome of the three?” Y/N teased the girl with a plump face and auburn hair that was held in a bun with several colourful ribbons. She and Y/N were the only ones left unmarried, and by the looks of her attire, at least one of them was determined to change it that night.

“Oh, well…” she inhaled and took a large sip from her wine. Then she took a bite from the likewise large cut of cake on her lap to stall the answer.

“You know…” Then her voice lowered. “Prince Aegon.”

Then the girls groaned jokingly and erupted into laughter. Except for Y/N who only gave her a secret, understanding smile.

“Come on now, Jeyne! HE IS—he is a drunkard!”

“And he sired so many bastards they say the Flea Bottom has turned white-haired—oh, sorry, Y/N.”

Y/N only waved her dismissively. Aegon was Alicent’s problem.

“He is at least… intact!” Jeyne spoke with a mouth full of cake. “Unlike his brother! That man… he scares me. I saw him down the hall just this noon. There is something about him—”

“You mean… Prince Aemond?” Y/N perked up. Now, that was a Prince she would converse on.

Unbeknownst to them, behind the heavy tapestry that divided a corner from the Throne Room and reserved a makeshift parlour for the guests, Prince Aemond was eavesdropping on the conversation. He was nursing a cup of wine stronger and more bitter than the ones ladies drank. Though the conversation first grabbed his attention in case a treacherous slander was to be spread—Rhaenyra and her bastard sons were invited, after all—he remained because he was simply bemused. Though he didn’t expect his name to be spoken in a conversation on handsome men and potential husbands. He leaned on of the stone pillars that held the tapestry up in hopes of identifying the ladies.

“It is the scar. Absolutely,” Suesane pointed to the right side of her face, just where Y/N’s half-brother slashed Aemond’s eye out some years back.

“Oh yes. It really is something. I sure am glad we are not to see it entirely.”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Y/N murmured matter-of-factly. The girls all turned to her with wide eyes and raised brows.

“What? It is not as bad as you say, I’m certain. I would like to see it. I hear he has a sapphire for a right eye now.”

Aemond couldn’t fight the smirk off his face and leaned even closer to the tapestry to make out the hushed voice of his brave champion.

“Do not toy with us! Imagine him… in… you know… your bedchamber. That is dreadful!”

“On the contrary. I think his scar is… well, I think it is handsome, like him. It suits him. It adds to his charm—”

“His charm! The man is a recluse and a maimed—”

“You are forgetting yourself, Emely!” Y/N spoke up. The fierce backlash forced the girls into silence. Y/N was of the highest-standing title, after all.

The girls scrambled to pacify the tone that shifted drastically with Princess Y/N’s outburst. From the other side, Aemond was intrigued now more than ever. A girl would defend him so feverishly even when he was not around, when she stood to gain nothing from shining up to him in his absence. She truly was his champion, it seemed. Besides, who could command the silence of spoiled, empty-headed pigs for ladies? Could it be? No! No it could not be his niece.

“I only meant that I hear Prince Aemond is a skilled warrior and a scholar, too. Do not be too harsh on him.” Y/N cooled off as well, attempting to salvage the chatter that she cut with her words which might very well have been Valyrian steel.

Aemond had to find out. He had to see. Y/N was too fond of her brothers to favour him. All Seven Gods together couldn’t make her see Aemond as anything but a brute and a bully. So, against his better judgment, he lifted the tapestry. It gave some of the ladies quite the scare as they gasped and shrieked. The cake on Jeyne’s lap fell to the floor with a loud clatter. They were like skittish horses galloping away from a dragon.

“Ladies,” Aemond greeted them with a nod and a smirk. In his mind, his entrance was no cause for alarm, yet to the girls, he seemed like a barbarian Dornish warrior who was intend on having their heads. It amused him all the same that they were scared near death.

“Princess,” he then turned to Y/N who was sitting tall, though her eyes betrayed the surprise his entrance was to her.

“Prince—ahem, Prince Aemond. Uncle.”

Was he just passing by and decided to give the poor girls a scare? That was indeed like him to do so. If not, just how much did he hear?

“I heard a matter unsettled on my brother. And…” he cocked his head to the side with a mischievous, lopsided grin, staring directly at Y/N. He blinked once, twice. With each shutting and opening of his eye, his bemused expression faded into something more difficult to read, something darker that unsettled even Y/N.

“And on my scar.”

“My Prince—we—we meant no—” one of the girls babbled, but the rise of Aemond’s hand stopped her swiftly.

“Allow me to chime in. You wished to see it, dear Niece,” his hand moved up to the eyepatch.

“Avert your precious eyes, my fair ladies,” he spoke with no concern to conceal the contempt he felt for the girls. And they looked all over the room but in Aemond and Y/N’s direction.

Y/N leaned closer in her seat like a woman famished at a rich supper. She often thought about Aemond, about how things could’ve been only if Queen Alicent and her mother could get along better. She also explored her body to the thought of her uncle—more times than she liked to admit.

Then, Aemond pulled the patch off. An icy blue eye and a darker cut of sapphire glimmering in the middle of a dark trail of once-torn flesh, a gift from Luke, stared back at Y/N.

“So see it for yourself.”

One of the girls, braver than the others, tried to steal a glance between her fingers but gasped in terror and turned her head away with a shrill “Oh, Gods be good!”

Y/N took a sharp breath, though Aemond scoffed because he assumed she was just as disgusted as the rest, she only realized his scar was much more handsome than the one she imagined with her trembling hands between her legs under the covers back at Dragonstone.

“That’s what I thought,” Aemond spoke with a tinge of disappointment in his voice. Though from the beating of her heart and the rushing of her mind, Y/N missed it. To Aemond, his niece was a coward just like the rest, and she’d sooner marry a pompous lord than to look at his face again.

“Enjoy your evening, ladies. Princess.”

Y/N chased after him. There was no point in staying anyway. The silence had fallen like a heavy blanket over a corpse upon Aemond’s departure.

Y/N reached for Aemond and grabbed his arm to stop him in his tracks.

“That was unnecessary.” Yet also highly intriguing. Captivating. Seducing.

Aemond gave her a joyless smile. “I warned you so, dear Niece.”

“It was not me who needed the courtesy of sparing the scare—”

“I do not care for the other girls. You claimed you could brave it. And yet—”

“And I did, did I not?”

Y/N stepped forward, now they were dangerously close to one another in the dark corner of the hall.

“Take it off and I shall brave it again if it pleases you, Aemond.” Please do take it off so I can admire it once more.

And he did. A surprise to both himself and Y/N, he pulled the eye patch off and the flames of candles glimmered off the sharp angles of sapphire. Aemond expected that without her audience, Y/N would speak her true mind. Surely, she’d tell him just how grotesque he looked and his ugly scar would haunt her even when she would be back at Dragonstone.

Instead, Y/N stepped closer, rose on her toes to reach for his face, and gently, oh so gently, ran her fingertips across the length of the scar. Where her soft fingers ran, scorching heat came off and flowers of spring blossomed—and they withered and died just as soon as her fingertips moved on.

Aemond was paralyzed under her touch. A lesser woman would’ve screamed for her life and run for the guards or the Queen. With shaky breaths, his heavy-lidded eye met Y/N’s.

“I truly think it’s beautiful,” she whispered, openly enamoured by his charm. Her finger stopped just beneath the sapphire, her palm dangerously close to caressing his cheek. “I shall forever regret the cruelty of my brother. But I shall also envy your lady wife when the time comes, for she will get to see you as you are now, for eternity.”

Y/N’s words sank like an anchor inside Aemond. She spoke sincerely, which made her words all the scarier. Aemond was used to artificial politeness, not to words spoken from the heart as Y/N did. And admittedly, he gave very little thought to marriage. Once he realized his sapphire eye was an object of terror for women, he shut the idea out. When the time came, as Y/N put it, his mother would choose a girl profitable enough to marry. And they wouldn’t be the first nor the final miserable couple in the realm.

Yet, there Y/N was with her finger on his scar and with the impossible promise that it wouldn’t have to be so.  

“Hm. If you speak true, perhaps you know me very little, niece.”

“Oh, on the contrary, uncle. I believe I know you better than most.”

The murmured exchange was cut abruptly when Y/N gripped Aemond’s shoulder to raise herself, and Aemond’s hands reached for her waist to keep her stable. Y/N tilted her head up and Aemond down and to the side in unison, and their lips felt as if they were created for each other.

Aemond Tag (let me know if you'd like to be added to it):

@cherishedauthor @schniiipsel @verycollectivecreator @dangerousbluebirdpoetry

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon

[endless-ineffabilities]

dragonfire

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

masterlist ▪︎ word count: <1k

The one in which Aemond Targaryen ponders over an existence without you. (i.e. a little something caused by my recently resurgent Aemond brainrot)

"So, what are you planning to do?"

Daeron's question hangs in the air. For a moment, Aemond fails to grasp the subject of his inquiry. But his mind, as it always does, goes back to you.

Having returned from visiting you in the library, Daeron found him smiling to himself in the godswood, like some pathetic, lovestruck youth.

"I am not sure what you mean." Aemond turns, regarding his younger brother with a lingering look.

"Will you ever confess to her how you feel?"

Has he become that easy to read? How he feels. Has he even admitted that truth to himself? He casts his gaze downward, kicking over a pebble with the sole of his boot. "It has not crossed my mind," he says. A lie, plain as day.

Daeron tries another approach, knowing how difficult it is to elicit the best reaction from his stoic brother. "Well, look about the matter in this way - what would your life be like without her in it? What if you never knew her at all?"

Aemond scowls in distaste. He is not too inclined to be analysed in such a way. But his thoughts have been influenced by Daeron's questioning. What would everything be like without you?

He would still be Prince Aemond Targaryen. He would still possess his royal devotion and sense of duty.

But without you?

"It would not be right," Aemond confesses. "It would be a plain cruelty to myself were I to entertain the thought. I suppose I would go on, as I am, but I have no desire to."

Days without your companionship, and nights without the thought of you intertwined with him in his chambers? How dull it would all be.

"She's like... like my dragonfire. My strength. Only she can ever have any true power over me."

Only you would be permitted to. The influence of his family, and of his status - they stand no chance. If you asked him to renounce his titles, and to sail together on a ship to Yi Ti, Aemond knows he would do so. For you.

And it terrifies him. He was raised to be methodical. To not be rash in his decisions. He has always upheld his family and his personal ambition above all else. But what terrifies him even more is the possibility that you would not be so receptive of his affections. And that, one day, duty would demand him be wed to another Lady who isn't you.

So he is resolute is not letting that happen.

"I would be the most content man in all of the Seven Kingdoms if I could live out my days with her as my Lady wife." The sentiment flows out of him as naturally as taking a breath. "If she will have me," he adds, softly.

Daeron smiles in agreement, before offering the simplest course of action. "So take her to be your wife. There is no doubt in my mind that she will have you."

"It is not that easy."

"What if some other Lord will ask for her hand - "

"Then I will take pleasure in feeding Vhagar her next meal."

Daeron simply laughs, patting Aemond on the shoulder. "Take heart, brother. No Lord can surpass you."

"Hmm." Of course not.

"I shall take my leave," Daeron says. "Oh, and if you change your mind about her, I would not be averse to asking for her hand, myself."

Aemond stiffens, glowering at Daeron with a storm brewing in his eye. For a split second, he considers having to duel his brother, if it would come to that. Felling him, if need be. For you.

His own kin. He has done it before, after all. And this time, it would be for the greatest of causes - the battle for your heart.

"Gods," Daeron bursts in a fit of laughter. "Aemond, I only jest. We do not need any more infighting in our family than we already have."

Aemond exhales in relief as his brother departs, leaving him with the realization that he would actually resort to such extreme measures in order to be with you.

Seven hells, he is well and truly fucked.

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen one shot #house of the dragon

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 10

After the Doctor left Gallifrey, the Master and the Rani were so desperate to find him that they kidnapped and interrogated a retired CIA agent named Maris, who had been hired to find him. Maris unfortunately had no idea where he went, but before they could kill her, she was extracted from the situation.

Sabbath Dei cut out the Eighth Doctor's second heart and put it in his own chest.

In an alternate timeline, the Sixth Doctor was imprisoned in the Tower of London for a hundred years and had both of his legs cut off. By refusing to give the Dalek also imprisoned an order, he ensures that the Dalek will kill him.

William Shakespeare and Richard III swapped places in history, so anything "Shakespeare" did from 1597 onwards was actually done by Richard III.

After regenerating, the Ninth Doctor smashed every mirror in the TARDIS, swearing that he would never look at what face he was wearing after killing billions of people. He would eventually look in a mirror again after meeting Rose Tyler, and his meeting with Rose actually occurred after much more time had passed than you might think.

In the UNIT Black Archive, there is a photograph of Mike Yates and Sara Kingdom, suggesting that they interacted at some point.

The Fifth Doctor was once paralyzed from the waist down in a spaceship crash and remained that way for most of the adventure. By the end of the story, he had been healed by nanites.

The Doctor's older brother Braxiatel was Lord Burner at one point, the personal assassin of the President who burned people out of history. After being ordered to burn an old man and his granddaughter running away from Gallifrey, he let them go, and the President who gave him the order mysteriously died when one of the power relays in his office overloaded. Braxiatel led an inquiry on the matter and declared it to be nothing more than an accident.

River Song believes that the Doctor had a crush on the Rani while they were at the Academy.

At the summit of Mount Cadon on Gallifrey, one can see the whole of time itself, but people hardly ever reach it because a hallucinogenic compound in the snow stops them. While a TARDIS can materialize at the top, this is apparently "cheating" according to the Doctor. The Academy is at the foot of Mount Cadon, and it is also the site of the House of Lungbarrow.

The Doctor remembers attempting to climb Mount Cadon several times. On one such attempt, Vansell broke his leg.

When the Eighth Doctor ran into the Brigadier again after regaining his memories from another bout of amnesia, he said he felt much safer with him.

The Third Doctor's tattoo was given to him by the Time Lords to mark that he was in exile. It is basically the equivalent of a brand or a big scarlet letter.

Mustard gas can be fatal to a Time Lord.

Kamelion and K-9 can both be damaged by water.

As Time Tots, the Rani and the Doctor would play hide-and-seek. She was incredibly irritated by the Doctor's exceptional ability to find her hiding spots.

The physical appearance of a Time Lord is but a small aspect of their true forms. In reality, Time Lords are vast, multi-dimensional beings existing in the metaspace realm. These forms are completely invisible to humans.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28

#doctor who #dw #dr who #classic who #new who #big finish doctor who #big finish audios #big finish #doctor who eu #doctor who expanded universe #fifth doctor #eighth doctor #sixth doctor #the master #the rani #first doctor #ninth doctor #rose tyler #mike yates #sara kingdom #braxiatel #gallifrey #river song #vansell #third doctor #brigadier alistair gordon lethbridge stewart #brigadier lethbridge stewart #k 9 #kamelion #dr nyarlathotep

[vivalabunbun]

Simple Wishes

Summary: He never understood humans, and by extension, he never understood you. Perhaps if he had only placed more effort into studying you as he did with the search for greater knowledge, tragedy could have been avoided. But would you still allow him to hold your hand?

Word Count: 3k 

Tags: alhaitham x gn reader, deshret x gn reader, jinni!reader, past lifes, reincarnation au, angst, character death, modern au, some spoliers of genshin lore 3.2 onwards, sfw, tragedy, fluff, daughter nahida

Authors Note: This is based on the theory that alhaitham is in some way connected to king deshret, either as a reincarnation or a descendant. The reader is a jinni that understands and feels human emotions, a mirror for gods to reflect upon and cultivate more wisdom from a human prospective. Enjoy!

Upon a golden throne, imposing and all-knowing sat King Deshret. King of warriors, horticulturists, and sages. The proud and all-mighty king of the red sands. On his left, stood a Jinni, quiet and patiently waiting upon the great king and its mistress, the goddess of flowers to return from her visit to a grand friend.

The Jinn followed their mother goddess everywhere, in a trance of maddening loyalty and love. Yet here you were, far from the side of your goddess, but loyally attending to the curiosity of the great king. 

Followers of the Scarlet King might be appalled by the notion that their great king, the embodiment of wisdom, would hold questions he needed another’s answers to. However, these followers never considered the simple truth. 

King Deshret did not understand humans. After all, how can gods and humans truly understand each other on the same level when biologically the two were on two completely different plains? 

“My dear friend, how can we have dominion over creatures whom we cannot understand? Do you find that wise?” 

He remembers those words the goddess of flowers had raised him upon a peaceful afternoon. Deshret knew she was right, humans were weak compared to gods, but because they were weak they became complex. It was that unknown difference between god and humans that bred the potential for disharmony.

He supposed that was the reason your creation caused quite the commotion among the three friends and Jinn.

For upon your birth from the nilotpala lotuses at the feet of your mistress, you wept. Your fresh eyes overflowing with tears from the moment they opened, stunning the Jinn and the goddess of flowers. You, who was born with the body of an adult, wept like a human newborn who cried from the violent impact of emotions that welcomed them into the world.

Upon this revelation, your mistress knelt down to cup your face in her hands, eyes wide with astonishment and jaw slacked. 

“You… you can feel human emotions…” Her warm fingers brushed the tears off your soft cheeks. 

From that moment onwards you served a crucial role to the three lords of the alliance kingdoms, you were their mirror to the human heart. When the gods found themselves stumped upon a human concept, you were there to explain. Hate, love, grief, you told them everything the human heart held, reflecting your felt wisdom upon them.

However, of the three gods, it was King Deshret who had the least understanding of the human heart. Perhaps that was why the goddess of flowers had stationed you to the left of the king. To answer his inquiries about those weak complex creatures. 

Gazing upon the hologram manifested in front of him, Deshret watched the day-to-day bustle of the humans in his kingdom. While the king did not understand humans, he understood that they were his responsibility to look after, protect, and care for.

He watched as a laborer, skin tanned from moving heavy bricks in the unforgiving sun, rushed towards the figure of a woman with calloused hands, from weaving cloth all day, which held a basket of fruits and bread. The exhaustion disappeared from the man’s face as he greeted the woman, her face turning tender in return as she gestured to the basket.

A smile broke through the hardened face of the large man upon seeing the basket, he reached for her hand and she intertwined his fingers with hers as they walked together as one.

A crease appeared between the brows of the king, as he gestured with a flick of his wrist for you to approach closer. 

“Tell me Jinni, what troubles are plaguing my kingdom so much that a man is moved to joy over the simple sight of bread and fruit? Have the harvest this year been lacking? Have there been less gold for the common people?” He inquired. 

You turned your eyes away from the hologram and towards your lord. 

“No, they were simply happy to see each other, my lord.” 

The lazy glance Deshret cast your way told you that he still did not understand, so you continued.

“The man was overjoyed to see that the woman he loves had remembered which fruits and breads he favored, and she was happy that she made him happy.”

“That was all? That simple?” His teal eyes questioning. 

“Yes, it is the small actions that mean the most.” You offered him a reassuring smile. 

Your answer only sought to confuse him further, this was why Deshret believed he could never understand humans. How could mere mortals experience more joy from being gifted a piece of bread, than he had from having miles of silk, baskets of gold, and fertile lands placed at the feet of his grand throne? 

As the king walked along the paved paths in his palace gardens, four guards by his side in each cardinal direction, and you behind and to the left of him. His grand strides brought about an air of power and confidence as the linen flowed about his figure.

The marching of the guards and their golden armor contrasted by the jingle of bells that hung from your ankles filled the void of silence. Then along the path almost hidden by the tall flowers, sat a young boy, who had not reached the age to develop words, babbling to himself as he waved a stick in his chubby hands. Suddenly the child halted all movement, seemingly staring at nothing in particular, it was as if he had turned to stone.

Deshret paused his movement, and in sync the king’s entourage halted in their positions. He wanted to see just what would happen next with this child. It was faint at first, a shaky breath then a low whimpered followed until at last the child opened his mouth and let out a great wail. The child’s plump cheeks were wet as they began to get flushed with a hue of red, the cries his small body released straining against his lungs.

A leaf that had detached from a branch had yet to hit the ground when the figure of a place servant dashed from behind a corner. The servant dove to her knees as she brought the child into her arms, cooing and bouncing him against her chest, paying no heed to the dirt staining her white linen dress. The child had dropped his stick as he grasped tiny handfuls of his mother's dress, muffling his cries as he pressed his face into her. The servant continued to bounce him as his breathing grew calmer, it was then that the servant noticed the presence of the great king.

In a panic the servant raised to her feet, the child still tightly clutched in her arms, as she bowed deeply begging the king to forgive her for her insolence. 

“Shall I throw her into the dungeons for trespassing in the private gardens?” A guard asked. 

“There is no need,” Deshret waved her away. 

Thanking the king profusely for his mercy, the servant rushed to get out of his sight, cradling her child protectively. With a flick of his wrist, he called you to his side once more. 

“Why did the child wail so sadly?” His eyes still lingering at the corner the servant disappeared behind. 

“His small body was overwhelmed by emotions, my lord.”

“Have I frightened the child?”

“Not at all,” you shook your head. “He cried because he was overwhelmed by loneliness and the feeling of the unknown. The child cannot form words yet, thus he cannot match words to his emotions. So he cried for his mother, for he knows she will soothe the prickling feeling of frustration.” 

Deshret paused as he thought for a moment. The guards standing still at their positions around their king. 

“Was that how you felt back then?” He was referring to the moment you took your first breath. 

“Yes, my lord.” Your eyes twinkled with a smile, joy felt from your lord’s surmise. 

Dawning a cloak that hid his grand stature and identity, King Deshret strolled among the streets of his kingdom. Every once in a while he believed that it was crucial for a ruler to walk in the footsteps of his people, to examine the condition of his kingdom from beyond his golden throne. He had even requested that you remove the bells from your ankles to not draw attention as you trailed behind him.

He walked through the crowded marketplace of hollering merchants and haggling customers trying to get the best prices, you making care to not stray too far from his left. As the edge of the market came the concentration of the crowd diminished, and he felt a bit more relaxed.

He gazed curiously back into the denser crowd, observing the ever-changing expressions on the people’s faces. Suddenly, a large figure pushed the sea of people, hollering like an animal in pain. 

“Help! A doctor! Someone get me a doctor! My daughter! Please! My daughter!” 

In the scarred arms of the warrior lay the limp body of a young girl, not a day past the age of seven. As the crowd cleared out of his way, one hundred pairs of eyes focused their attention on the shouting warrior. His scarred face looked through the crowd for someone to save his child, being met with one hundred pitiful looks. 

“Anyone? Please! Call a doctor! Please save my daughter!” 

A thin man raised his hand as he maneuvered his body through the gaps in the crowd, stopping in front of the towering man. The thin man reached his hand towards the neck of the limp girl, eyes meeting the father’s as if asking for silent permission. The scarred man gave a quick nod, eyes filled with desperate hope. The doctor held two thin fingers against the cold neck of the girl, searching diligently for a pulse, for a singular proof of life. Instead, he was met with stiff, cold flesh. Removing his hand, he pressed his lips into a thin line before looking back at the scarred man’s face. 

“I am sorry, your daughter is already started her journey into Duat (the realm of the dead).”

“No… no, no, no, no, please! Please tell me it’s not too late! She can be saved no?” The desperate father harshly clasped a hand on the doctor’s shoulder, shaking the thin man. 

The doctor could only silently shake his head. The man’s eyes wide with despair then narrowed with rage, then as his facial expression relaxed a hollow void began to fill his eyes. Sinking to the sandy path arms clutching around the husk that once was a bundle of joy, the warrior who had faced countless battles, as shown by the marks all along his body, wept pitifully. Around him slowly, the crowd began to move once again, tearing their eyes away from the scene as if to give the father a semblance of privacy.

King Deshret flicked his wrist, calling you to his side. He felt no movement, confused he turned towards you, only to see your sobbing eyes still pinned on the scene in front of you. A pained expression tugged down at the corners of your lips that usually held a small smile. 

“Why do you weep, Jinni?”

“I weep for the father whose daughter, death had snatched too soon from his arms.” Your voice low like a hush. 

“Why do you weep for him?”

“Because he is in pain, a child torn away from their parent opens a wound in the heart.”

“The man is a strong warrior, he can sire another child. There is no need to weep for a child that could not survive.” 

“My lord, a child can never be replaced, she will never go back to her father’s arms. A broken pot can be remade, moldy bread can be thrown out, but a dead flower can never bloom again.” Your eyes never left the figure of the mourning father, tears continuing to darken the stones on the path. 

Deshret opened his mouth ready to inquire more but then shut it just as quickly. He sensed that inquiring more would only cause the tears to flow heavier. 

He never understood humans, and by extension, he never understood you. 

Perhaps if he had only placed more effort into studying you as he did with the search for greater knowledge, tragedy could have been avoided. 

“My lord, I beg of you to stop. This path you walk will only bring about more pain. My mistress, the goddess of flowers, has left this world. To ignore the truth while in search of knowledge forbidden will cause ruin.” You gripped onto the linen that pooled at his feet as you pleaded on your knees with the mourning king. 

“... Leave this palace, foolish Jinni.” Those were the last words he ever spoke to you. 

Yes, that was the word, foolish. That word does not describe you, no, it described him. A foolish king that did not understand his own heart. Foolish king that gambled everything and lost. His kingdom and riches shallowed by the raging sand storms, his people poisoned with madness (forbidden knowledge) by his own hands, and the once proud and all-mighty king no longer even had a physical body.

It was quiet in the temple where King Deshret hovered, he already knew what must be done to save his people, to save his people from himself as the forbidden knowledge pulsed like poison through his conscious. 

“We meet once more, my lord.” You stepped in front of him. 

He thought he would never see you again after he casted you out of the palace, your appearance stayed faithfully to how he remembered. But you were a bit more haggard, hands more collapsed, skin duller. You must have been exhausting your powers to try to mitigate the madness that plagued the humans you loved so much. Despite the fact you barely had the power to maintain your physical form, your eyes still twinkled as you called out to him. 

“I shall aid you, my lord. I will be the vessel for your sacrifice.” 

 This means you were prepared to die alongside him, he knew it, and you knew it too. Mutually understanding that a great sacrifice was required for a chance of survival for the people of the red sand. Outstretching your hands to the star-like manifestation of Deshret, you signaled that you were ready. He slowly descended into your cupped palms, as a pure light began to engulf the room and your figures.

He no longer had arms to hold you, even though he deeply wished to. As he felt his essence and yours slowly began to break apart into dust like sand, a fleeting thought passed through his mind, brought up by a scene he had witnessed many years ago with you. 

In a different time, 

a different place,

 a different world…

Could he hold your hand while you walk together as one?

... 

“....er”

“.....tham?”

“Alhaitham!” 

His teal eyes snapped open, meeting yours as you stood in the doorway of his home office. Concern was written clearly on your expression, he must have dozed off while he was translating the text that was half finished on his desk. 

“What’s wrong dear?” You moved closer, pressing your palm against his forehead feeling for signs of a fever. 

Nahida was held snuggly in your other arm as her green eyes observed her father’s face, aranara doll dangling loosely in her grip. 

“Is papa sick?” Nahida questioned, beginning to stir in your arms. 

Words just would not form from his throat as he continued to stare into your eyes, his usually stoic face was replaced with a dumbstruck expression. Which only concerned you further, he observed as your brow began to furrow more, palms shifting trying to get a better gauge of his temperature. 

“Haitham, are you unwell? If so you should rest, me and Nahida can do the grocery shopping by ourselves.”

No, he did not want you to leave his side, at that moment he never again want to be apart from you. He gently grasped your wrist in his large hand, removing it from his forehead as he stood up. 

“There is no need for such concern, I was just distracted, beloved.” He took Nahida from your arm and into his, shifting her into a secure hold. 

“Papa is healthy, now let us get the groceries before the market closes.” 

He heard you sigh, muttering something about how you worried that your husband was over-working himself. A silly concern, as if there was one thing he treasured close to the level of you and his daughter, it would be a healthy work-life balance. 

During the whole trip to the grocery store, Alhaitham was still a bit lost in thought. Movements a bit more relaxed and absent-minded than usual, Nahida still being carried in his arm as you pushed the cart. He found his eyes trailing towards the shiny wedding ring on your finger, with an emerald gem that matched the one present on his finger as well.

You had stopped in front of the display of fruits, concentrating on which fruit was the ripest and how to get the most value out of your money. Alhaitham found his hand itching to reach for yours, he did not try to suppress that desire. Allowing his hand to intertwine his long fingers with yours, wedding rings clinking together.

A look of surprise appeared on your face as you turned toward your ashen-haired lover. He was never really one for public displays of affection, so he could not fault you for your confusion, but he felt a smile tug at his lips as you accepted his actions with no further questioning. Returning your attention back to the piles of fruit waiting for your judgment.

Alhaitham felt at peace standing hand in hand with you under the fluorescent lights, as the sounds of other shoppers blended with the soft pop music from the store speakers.

A simple wish had been fulfilled. 

“Oh! This orange looks quite nice doesn’t it?”

“It is starting to mold on the underside.”

“Eh?-” 

fin~

DON’T PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORKS ON DIFFERENT PLATFORMS.

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham fanfic #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham angst #genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x you #alhaitham x yn #vivalabunbunfics

[undermine-the-instinct]

Okay okay….Prince Al Haitham.

A reclusive prince, content to keep to his books instead of entertaining people, but he is not shy by any means. Rumors paint him as brooding and mysterious and quietly charming and there's an allure to that. His face certainly doesn't help the rumors, with how handsome he is, so he has hordes of admirers. 

Until they speak to him face to face.

Sharp tongue and quick witted, logical and cold. It is hard to make pleasant conversation or small talk because he does not see the point in dancing around, wouldn't it be more practical just to say what you want? You're asking to court him? Marriage? He'll have to decline, no can do. No, he's not sorry. 

Dozens of people try, and fail, to garner his affections. Knights, magicians, priestesses, Queens and princesses. 

Blunt and practical to a fault, people start making up new rumors. The Prince is under a spell, his heart is held captive by a witch. No fancy words or grand gestures can move him, he is not swayed by any of the dozens of beautiful princesses, vying for his attention. He is not tempted by Queens offering their crown and kingdoms on  silver platters engraved with his name. But no, its not because he's not interested, he's cursed. Only the truest love can free him. He just wants to read his books in peace, can he have that?

What is love anyway? A feeling? A thought? An action? He's known some inkling of love throughout his life, but it still eludes him. Does it have a prerequisite, or is it instinctive? What defines love, in all its forms? Do these people love him, and that's why they all clamor over themselves just to catch a glance from him? Is that it? Aren't these people tired of all the theatrics and this 'true love' nonsense? What is this, a fairytale? 'Cursed by a witch', or, 'Only the truest love'. Do they not have any tact? You're sitting right there.

You just shake your head at his inquiries with a smile, and drink your tea, your wedding band gleaming in the sunlight.

#my stuff #my writing #brainrot #drabble #Al Haitham #genshin al haitham #al haitham #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #thoughts #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #al haitam x reader #alhaitham #al haitham x y/n #al haitham x you #al haitham x reader #if its not obvious #reader is the 'witch' that the people accuse of cursing the prince #when in reality people are just jealous and you two have prob been married for a little while #new series...? Perhaps? #Prince!Al Haitham

[lordoftherazzles]

🍃 As The Tide Turns ‣ (4/9) ‣ The lost treasure of Durin the Deathless has been sought by many and found by none, but to Bilbo Baggins, it’s merely another riddle just waiting to be solved. The self-proclaimed “Deathless” expert finds himself whisked away aboard The Ravenheart, led by the infamous Captain Oakenshield, and the two embark on an unexpected journey to solve one of history’s biggest mysteries. (pirate au, teen and up, 23k)

🍃 Between Vices and Virtues ‣ (6/6) ‣ King Thorin Durinson has only held the throne for a few months after the death of his greedy predecessor. When Shire Inquiry journalist Bilbo Baggins is brought in to observe a meeting of powers, it's quickly made apparent that Thorin's sheltered and strict lifestyle has him completely disconnected from those he rules, as well as his family. It's up to Bilbo to show Thorin that the world is worth exploring and that not everything is as it seems. (modern royalty au, gen, 40k)

🍃 Bookbinder//Songwriter ‣ (13/???) ‣ Thorin Durinul has always dreamed of making it to the big leagues in the music industry. Ered Luin’s newest citizen, Bilbo Baggins, an aspiring writer and all-around bookworm, has recently taken ownership of the mountain town’s dusty old corner shop, now, Bag End Books. They weren’t looking for love, but now they can’t imagine tackling life’s challenges without each other. (modern band/bookshop au, explicit, 76k)

🍃 Dragonhearted ‣ (15/15) ‣ Thorin lives a life of solitude since Smaug’s curse fell upon Erebor. That is, until a brave hobbit turns the mountain upside down with little fear of Thorin’s snarls, scales and enchanted company, and learns to love a beast. (beauty & the beast au, explicit, 83k)

🍃 Forget-Me-Not ‣ (3/3) ‣ After the Battle of the Five Armies, Thorin remains out of consciousness until his outbursts of pain become too much for Bilbo to witness. Bilbo - the hobbit whom Thorin married in Lake-town - begs Gandalf for assistance. Magic may have pulled the pain away and brought Thorin to a lucid state, but it also took his memories of the quest, Bilbo, and their marriage, away from him. Now, with a fair warning from Gandalf that rushing Thorin's memories too quickly may cause him to relapse, Bilbo must tread carefully around his feelings, while Thorin is dead-set on courting the hobbit he can't remember he married. (post-botfa/amnesia au, gen, 14k)

🍃 Fuck Thy Neighbor ‣ (7/7) ‣ Bilbo and Thorin have a past, one that spans no longer than one wild evening which resulted in far too many drinks, a 24-hour chapel, and not knowing the other’s last name. They both thought they could simply ‘deal with it later’. When ‘later’ finally arrives, they must learn how to co-exist now as neighbors, but also as accidental newlyweds. (accidental marriage/neighbors au, explicit, 31k)

🍃 Golden Hearts Bleed Faster ‣ (1/9) ‣ Bilbo Baggins, Prince of the Shire, has been left with a kingdom on his back and a ring in his hand after the unexpected death of his parents. Bodyguard Thorin Oakenshield has been brought in to see to the prince’s safety, and do a little investigating of his own on the matter in hopes of coming face to face with the one who turned his mountain, and his life, upside down some years prior. (modern royalty/bodyguard au, teen+, 3.5k)

🍃 Kurdu 'abadaz ‣ (6/10) ‣ It's said the Arkenstone is the literal heart of the mountain with a pulse of its own, ensuring life can sustain within it, but it's also been said that the Arkenstone can drive any king mad. Not every curse of madness is the same. When Thorin Oakenshield is plucked from his eternal slumber by some miracle of the stone, he must work with Bilbo to navigate this new world and what it means for the both of them. (post-botfa/supernatural au, explicit, 34k)

🍃 May Your Forge Burn Bright ‣ (18/18) ‣ Thorin labors as a blacksmith within the world of men to support his family and the other displaced dwarves of Erebor. Change comes to his monotonous routine when the smithy he works in unexpectedly comes under a hobbit’s management. (pre-quest au, explicit, 109k)

🍃 (Take Me Back To) The Night We Met ‣ (6/6) ‣ On a night when The Green Dragon Inn is out of vacancy, Bilbo Baggins opens up his home to a trio of displaced and rain-soaked dwarves. The two children of the bunch are happy to have a temporary home away from the rain, but their uncle, Thorin, sees it only as a debt to be repaid. (pre-quest au, gen, 25k)

🍃 They Stole My Heart (Along With the Rest of Him) ‣ (6/6) ‣ After departing less than amicably, Thorin and Bilbo find themselves pining over memories and questions of ‘what if’ without any courage to seek out the answers themselves. So their friends and family step in to help���some more forcefully than others. (post-botfa/kidnap au, teen and up, 21k collab with @sunnyrosewritesstuff)

🍃 When Darkness Shines Brightest ‣ (10/10) ‣ As the Master of Shadows and King Under the Mountain, Thorin lives burdened with guilt and loss, for Erebor is dark, dead, and on the brink. That is until he finds a possible solution to save his people in a being that radiates light and life. But is it truly possible to save them all from the shadows he created? (hades&persephone/TNBC au, teen and up, 58k)

🍃 Where The Shadows Lie ‣ (8/???) ‣ Bag End Bed & Breakfast collects more dust than customers these days. An unexpected visit lands a company of royal vampires into Bilbo’s care. As he learns to coexist, he discovers secrets to his lineage. (vampire/slayer au, explicit, 59k)

#bagginshield #thilbo #the hobbit #thorin x bilbo #bilbo x thorin #hobbit fic #bagginshield fic #razzywrites #fic: as the tide turns #fic: between vices and virtues #fic: bookbinder//songwriter #fic: dragonhearted #fic: fuck thy neighbor #fic: kurdu 'abadaz #fic: may your forge burn bright #fic: the night we met #fic: when darkness shines brightest #fic: where the shadows lie #fic: forget-me-not #fic: they stole my heart #fic: golden hearts bleed faster

[curvykittyyssmutfics]

King thor (mcu thor) is stressed from his duty as king and avenger so his queen of midguard, reader (not actually a queen of midguard, but she is human who used to work as shield nurse and has a healing power) decided to release his anger and stress on her! Hard core fuck, suck nipple, blowjob, doggy style, sucking pussy, daddy, other positions style

How Kings Release

Thor paces your shared bedroom back and forth with long agitated strides. The pressure of becoming king has more than shredded any semblance of patience he possessed and often sent him to the realm of pure fucking insanity. He honestly didn't know how much more he could take before he snapped.

Pressures of keeping his kingdom safe weighed heavily on Thor, and he's not afraid to admit that he worries for his people. Unfortunately his concern usually translates to internal rage and he needs a fuckin stress reliever. He'll just never speak that little fact out loud.

You're unaware of Thors surly reflective state and unluckily take this moment to enter the room. Hes not facing you but his perturbed treading comes to a halt. Since youre only there to change your royal robes, you only glance at Thor, giving a warm loving smile to his backside before heading to your huge walk in closet. You undress as you speak to your unknowingly fuming husband.

"My king, you're needed in the prison chambers. Something about Loki needing a word with you."

You're clothes hit the floor, pooling around your ankles when you hear a thunderous pound on the wall behind you. The noise obviously startles you, makes you jump as you turn around bewildered. Your round heavy tits swing a bit as you look at him. He's facing you now, taking you in unabashedly.

Thor wordlessly gazes at your naked frame intensely. His silent brooding demeanor is starting to make you anxious. What the hell was goin on?

"Did something happen, Thor? Are you al-,"

Your inquiry clips short as he stalks towards you, still refusing to say a single word. You kinda wanna make a run for it but the way he's looking at you seems to dare you to take a single step and your not sure you want to take that chance. Your feet are rooted to the spot as he approaches, looking you up and down like a piece of damn meat. He hums a short sound of appreciation of everything he can see and fuckin KNOWS your body has to offer. His tongue flicks out to lick over his bottom lip as he continues to stare at your curvy naked body. Shit, you smell so God damn good to him.

"Thor-"

Your husband's large warm hand wraps firmly around your throat and you shut the fuck up promptly. It's about now that you're finally aware of your warrior's very tense disposition. He steers you towards the bed by your neck, makin you walk backwards till the back of your legs hit the soft midnight blue plush blankets. He brings his face close to yours, your noses almost touch, finally addressing you with a tone that was deadly low.

"Call me that again and you'll fuckin regret it."

Thor is seething.. And you have no idea why. Your heart is pounding at his behavior and when his hand clutching you becomes a bit more malleable on your neck, you might have an inkling of what's comin next. Even though your starting to get wet at his treatment, you hope to hell you're not limping afterwards for the entire damn kingdom to see this time.

"If I hear you call me anything besides who the fuck I am to you, I'll wreck that pussy way more than I intend to. A warning for you My Queen: this is not the time for your usual bratty, disobedient behavior. "

Thor pushes you to the bed, eagle-eyes focused on the way tits and thighs jiggle as you hit the bed with a soft plop. He kneels, pushing your legs open roughly as he examines your glistening folds. His fingers spread your pussy lips, relishing in the way the pink of you throbs for him. It makes his fat lengthy dick perk up even more in anticipation.

His cock lays heavy behind his clothing, so damn rigid and engorged. Thor's dick drips small drops of precum and it makes his underwear feel warm and sticky. Not even aware of when his dick got hard, all he can contemplate is taking his emotions out on your poor unsuspecting body.

"Now, I'm gonna suck and lick my pretty little pussy till you cum. Afterwards, I'm gonna fuck you however I want until my balls are drained. Understand?"

Thor doesn't bother to wait for answer as he pins back both of your thighs in each of his hands and dives in. Spearing your wet pussy with his stiff tongue, the king basks in your taste as his crown tips off of lengthy blonde flowing waves. He's moaning and groaning at the flavor of you bursting inside his mouth. Continuously stabbing at your pussy, Thor grips your thighs harder and pulls you closer to his mouth.

You have to grip the bed with tight balled fist as he attacks your little puss. Your breath puffs out in desperate little pants as he gives instant blindingly good pleasure. Your h/c hair fans out on the bed like a halo surrounding you while thrash wildly. You know better than to push him away so you do nothing but endure the intense sensations invading your overwhelmed fluttering pussy.

"Ooooohmyking! My King! Pleeeease! Ohgodohgodohgod! I c-ca-.. I can't!"

You hope your fuming husband takes pity on you and slows down but your wanton cries have the opposite affect. He sets your right leg on his shoulder and brings a hand down to thumb at your throbbing clit, pressing firm quick circles that have you gasping for air. You yank at you comforter but it does nothing to help with the feeling of him fuckin his tongue into you as hard and fast as he can. White sparks flash behind your tightly closed eyes as he forces you to take what he gives you.

Thors mouth, beard and chin are soaked. The smell of you, your passionate shrieks, and sight of your shuddering body makes his dick wanna spurt. He presses himself against the bed as he eats you like he'll never see you again. He can tell you're getting close, needs you to be as wet as possible cause when he gets inside you, he's gone beat ya pussy up till his hearts content.

"Ohfuuuuuck! Ah, ah aaahgod! Love you! I love you Daddy! Loveyou, loveyousofuh-uckinmuch!"

He knows damn near the entire castle can hear your wails bounce of your walls of your room and through the open window. Should let up some cause you'd be embarrassed as hell if you knew but he couldn't muster to find a single ounce of a fuck to give as he removes his tongue and give a vigorously resistant suck on your clit.

"St-st-o-op! Ple-! St- AH! Thoooor!! Pleeeease!"

Thor thinks the arch that snaps your back is so fuckin pretty as you cum fast and hard against his mouth. It's a damn miracle the bedspread doesn't rip between your fingers from your deranged tugging as you blast his mouth and chin with a heavy dose of your love. With eyes still shut, you beg for it to end but its a laughable concept to your mean ass man as he doubles down on his sucking.

Your now wordless screams make his ears ring and dick attempt to bust free. He pulls off with a POP! only to latch back, nursing at your sensitive little button ferociously.

The fervid sensation makes you kick at him and you actually manage to free your self. You think you'll take your chances of escape as you twist onto your belly and make a very sorry attempt at scrambling over the bed. Your knees are too shaky and your legs wobble, your poor pussy still pounding with overstimulation.

Thor can't believe his fucking eyes, not only had he peeped you calling him by his first fuckin name, here you were trying to make the weakest escape attempt he had ever witnessed. It actually made him laugh out loud, first in disbelief and then malevolence. Aight if that's the way you were gone play, he'd show you wassup. BET.

Your tyrant of a husband hastily pulls his stiff long dick out from under his kingly attire, pumping it quickly from tip to base as he snatches you back by your ankle. You're sobbing and flailing but Thor hardly gives you a chance to fight back. He briefly lets go of his cock to seize your hips upwards and grab a handful of your hair. Your impaled on his length before you can even think to beg for his forgiveness.

"FUUH-UUCK!" Your king's boisterous roar of satisfaction definitely beats your stuttering howl.

Your breath is knocked from your lungs as he digs into you more than halfway. He has to pause and revel in your lava hot snug little pussy already trying to milk the fuck outta him. You're uncontrollably clenching around his girth and its sending him to fucking Valhalla.

His next thrust takes him to the hilt as you wheeze for air. Thor utilizes his grip in your hair to pull you back to meet his powerful thrusts. The booming slaps of his pelvis crashing against your juicy jiggling ass cheeks as proof of his earlier promise to wreck you if disobeyed. You suck air into your lungs desperately, finally able to pitifully wail at his reckless treatment of your body.

You wanna beg him to slow down, plead with Thor to stop; at least just a small break from the havoc he was wreaking between your thighs. But you can't, don't even realize that your tongues hangs from between your lips uselessly as he despicablely fucks you without a hint of concern.

"Shoulda- dammit sooo tight! Fuuuck! Sh-shit, shoulda listened to me y/n." He leans down, pulling you back further to speak at your ear.

"You never listen. Actually thought I'd l-let your bad ass get away? Think Daddy's gonna h-have to stop taking it so e-easy on you."

He slaps each of your ass cheeks, admiring the way your radiant brown skin ripples from the impact before both hands wrap around your slender neck. He's bucking and riding you hard as tears stream down your face from the immense pressure in your gut. Your nothing more than a doll for him at this moment and the sentiment makes him squeeze a bit at your neck which in turn has your pussy attempting to strangle his cock.

Dammit, Thor wants to fuck you longer but with the week he's had he should be greatful he ain't explode inside your magic pussy on the first stroke. His balls draw up tight against his body and your tough ass husband actually whimpers as his cock starts to spasm. He's quick to rip his dick from your abused little puss, turn you to face him and push you to your knees.

Your dazed, beyond confused, as you rapidly try to blink tears from lashes and clear your blurry vision. Your most definitely not expecting or prepared for Thor to bully his spasming wood between your lips. He stares down at you with a dilated piercing gaze and lets loose massive torrents of cum as he shouts your name exuberantly.

"..aaaaah FUCK! Y/n, y/n! Oh f-fu- Gods help me! Sofuckingooood y/n! Haaah.."

You never had a fucking chance in hell! His cum gags you as you cough harshly around his dick. Try as you might to pull back from the onslaught, he easily holds you in place while he humps his dick in your mouth ruthlessly. The muscles in his torso flex erratically, and he shouts estatically as he busts a fierce ass nut.

By the 4th spurt of Thor's copious cum, he's slides in till your nose presses against his short dark blonde public hair. 'He smells like the flower soap on the the 4th floor' your mind supplys foggily as he spurts again, this one going straight down your throat.

Thankfully his streams lose volume by the 6th gush into your warm cavern but it's almost impossible to breathe as his cock chokes you. Trickles of his thick white liquid leaks from the corner of your mouth as he finishes releasing into your over stuffed jaws.

His saltiness assaults your senses and your chest burns with the need to take a real breath. Your arms now hang limply at your sides, eyes half closed as you helplessly wait for your king to release you.

Your freshly done make up runs from your watery eyes down your cheeks, smearing with the cum that streams down your chin. Splashes of Thor's warm milk decorates your chocolate skin in blotches and the sight makes his slowly softening dick twitch with interest. He takes a mental picture before pulling his dick out of throat slowly and relinquishing his grip.

You fall back against the bed flaccidly with a pathetic hum as his eyes follow the rivers of his release now dripping down your perky tits and tummy to your trembling thighs. You stare at the wall unfocused as your chest heaves. You can't think.. Can't move.. You can't speak.. Just how he likes it after a session.

"Fuuuuck.. I needed that, Woman."

He ducks down to retrieve his crown, tucking his dick back into his clothes as he smirks at your pliable, relaxed state. Thor wipes at the sweat on his face with his sleeves as he reluctantly turns and heads for the door, leaving you on the bedroom floor still trying to catch your breath. He'll be back to run you a hot bath and hopefully slide in some round 2. For now, time to deal with Loki..

#thor #black reader #dubious consent #daddy k!nk #smut #black fanfiction #suckin dick #throat training #throat fucking #choking #sub reader #rough

[yujo-nishimura]

Whispers of the Desert Kingdom - Part 3

Warning: Sir Crocodile x fem reader, English is not my native language, not proof-read, age gap

Comment: I get a feeling that the princess starts to turn into a Boa Hancock kind of Character for Croco.. Sorry for the slow development of the story, but I am committed to write daily and I want to enjoy the process as well. ;)

words: 560

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

Pell returned with a tray brimming with food, and you hastily took your seat at the desk. Your heart continued to thump in your chest, and your cheeks still carried a blush. This marked the first time he had ever directly acknowledged your presence. Or did he? Perhaps it was all just your imagination.

"Here is your breakfast, princess. If you don't mind, I'll join you here, but I'll remain silent so as not to disrupt your studies," Pell said.

Unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you posed the question directly to him, "Why is Sir Crocodile here, Pell?"

Pell stammered, visibly surprised by your sudden inquiry. His eyes followed yours, fixated on the window, and comprehension washed over him. With a sigh, he placed the tray in front of you on the desk and settled onto a small chair beside you. This chair was typically reserved for your weekday tutor. A ray of sunshine illuminated Pell's face as he warmly smiled and resumed speaking.

"The king hasn't revealed the reason to me, but he did mention that he had an urgent matter to discuss with Sir Crocodile, requiring a private conversation beforehand. Additionally, it seems the king has taken notice of your... affection for Crocodile. Perhaps that's why he opted to meet with him privately."

You nodded, still uncertain about the exact purpose of Crocodile's visit, but grateful that Pell took the time to explain without further deception. Your cheeks tinged with a blush once more as he acknowledged his awareness of your love for Crocodile. You hadn't realized it had been so obvious.

You knew that the king's orders were unwavering, leaving you with no option than to obey. However, a deep yearning welled within you, the desire to sneak out of your room just for a moment and catch a glimpse of Crocodile. These opportunities were so exceedingly rare and the thought of him being so close to you now almost drove you crazy.  “I know what you are thinking, Princess. But I am so sorry, I cannot allow you to leave this room.” 

"I understand, Pell," you replied with a nod, your thoughts already racing. As you began to chew on a piece of bread from the tray, your mind worked tirelessly, searching for a way to devise an escape plan from your confined quarters.

As the hours slipped away, unnoticed, it was already noon, and you had managed to go through two books in an attempt to maintain the appearance of diligent studying. However, your true focus was far from your academic materials. Your thoughts were consumed by Crocodile and the purpose of his meeting with your father. The conflict between your obedience to the king's orders and your yearning to catch a glimpse of the man who occupied your dreams tore at your heart.

Beside you, Pell had sat in silence for a while now. It became clear that he had dozed off, his deep breaths indicating his sound slumber. Seizing the moment, you carefully rose from your seat, gently pushing the chair back to the desk. With watchful, silent steps, you made your way to the door and opened it.

"Forgive me, dear Pell," you whispered apologetically before slipping out of the room. Your footsteps were light and deliberate as you discreetly navigated the hallways, guiding yourself toward the king's banquet hall.

#one piece #sir crocodile x y/n #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile one piece #x reader #yujowriting #sir crocodile #alabasta

[jinmindeulle]

twenty one petals | do kyungsoo (preview)

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 commoner!do kyungsoo x princess!reader

𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 angst, romance | love at first sight, forbidden love

the story i originally intended to be short, turned out make me write 5k+ words, so it's taking longer for me to write. in the meantime, this is the preview i can give you! @kyungseokie, thank you so much for your request. it will be up in the next couple of days!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ 　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　 ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚ ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚

Your Royal Highness,

I hope this letter finds you in good health and high spirits. I write to you with the utmost humility and respect, fully aware of the immeasurable distance that separates your world from mine.

Since the moment I first had the privilege of glimpsing your radiant presence from afar, my heart has embarked on a journey it had never before known. It is a journey filled with profound admiration, deep respect, and, dare I say, love that transcends all boundaries.

I am but a humble commoner, a mere speck in the grand tapestry of your Father’s noble kingdom. Yet, as I go about my daily toils, I find myself endlessly enchanted by thoughts of you. Your delicateness, your kindness, your voice—all of these qualities have illuminated my every waking moment from the second you answered my inquiry.

Please understand that I harbor no illusions of grandeur, nor do I seek to intrude on your world. My affection is a silent and solitary affair, a secret held close to my heart, and now to yours. It is a love that has to remain unspoken, for I am painfully aware that my place in society precludes any dreams of an impossible union.

I am content to serve my kingdom, my family, and my fellow commoners with all the devotion and diligence I can muster. In doing so, I hope to honor the same virtues that have earned you the admiration and adoration of all who have had the privilege of knowing you.

May your days be filled with happiness and prosperity.

With the utmost reverence and eternal devotion,

DKS.

#exo #exo d.o #d.o #exo x reader #d.o x reader #d.o x you #d.o x y/n #d.o fanfic #exo fanfic #d.o angst #exo scenarios #exo writing #fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop imagine #kyungsoo #kyungsoo x reader #kyungsoo x you #do kyungsoo #exo kyungsoo

[worldly-diversity]

@dcstiny-bound / @nights-fear​ ○ 𝕣𝕚𝕜𝕦 𝕒𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕧𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕤 ○

         ⤷  『  “Where do they come from?” The question is blurted out as he watches one of the Floods wander around in front of the dark-haired boy. Harmless, kind of cute - but definitely not at all like what Yen Sid and the other Wayfinder’s said they were. They almost reminded him of his Good Spirit companions.

Clearing his throat, he ducks his head sheepishly, apologizing under his breath as he fiddles with the frayed edge of his jacket. “Was that rude? You don’t have to answer if it is.”

He barely know where his own Good Spirits came from after all - he was just curious.  』

Sat like this, together, in their hideaway he doesn't think there's much of anything Riku could ask that would offend him or otherwise make him upset. There are few people he trusts, and Riku is one of them. Perhaps the only one even, since he and the wayfinder trio are still very much on edge around each other, and Yen Sid is someone he refuses to trust, never mind defer to.

He wonders sometimes if he could grow to trust Sora and Kairi but well, one was missing and the other was in a coma to find him, so there wasn't much in the way of getting to know them. Maybe that's selfish of him too, the thought that he likes the way Riku doesn't have anyone else to turn to. He can't help but worry that once Sora is back, Riku won't have time for him anymore…

The flood on his lap looks up then, chittering worriedly and snuggling closer to him. Though they were born of various emotions, they didn't display just the one. It was more like they were in tune with him actually, and they'd do stuff like this if they weren't being killed off. Trying to comfort him, it's kind of cute.

"it's fine, you don't have to apologise." He shifts slightly, so he's leaning his shoulder against Riku's, trying to push the negative thoughts away for the time being.

"I don't really know, to be honest. Master Xehanort said they were a manifestation of my negative emotions, made from darkness. All I know is that killing them hurts me, so they're connected to me."

The flood on his lap chirped, as though agreeing that it was a part of him, and then stretched out, half beginning to drape itself over Riku as well, earning an amused chuckle from Vanitas that he quickly tries to stifle.

"Little menace…"

.

#dcstinybound #nightsfear #universe • kingdom hearts #inquiry • kingdom hearts #interactions • vanitas #answered #into the void • queue

[your-local-simp-writers]

༺☆༻ Introduction ༺☆༻

Hello! 

We’re the dynamic duo behind “𝕐our 𝕃ocal 𝕊imp 𝕎riters,” just a couple of friends who love to get lost in the world of stories and games. We’re here to share our passion for writing and all the geeky stuff we can’t get enough of.

♡ About Us ♡

I’m 𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹 and I’m all about gaming and art. You’ll often find me with a controller in one hand and a comic book in the other. My better half, the yin to my yang. She’s the partner in crime, the sweet melody to my wild riffs, and the one who brings a touch of grace to our shared tales of adventure and heart, 𝒞𝒽𝒾𝑒𝓃𝓃𝑒! She is the other half of this storytelling team. We both love creating stories that’ll make you feel like you’re right there with the characters.

♡ Our Writing ♡

We write what we love, and we love what we write. Our stories are inspired by our current fascinations—be it a game, a movie, or a manga. If it’s interesting and fascinating to us, it’s fair game for our writing.

Most of our stories are “x female reader” because that’s where we feel most at home. Occasionally, we’ll write “x gender-neutral reader” pieces for a bit of variety. However, we generally steer clear of “x male reader” or “OC x canon” stories. We want to create a space where female readers can see themselves in the worlds we love so much.

❤︎ 𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹 '𝓈 Interests: 

Gaming: I’m a huge fan of Kingdom Hearts, Batman Arkham games, Mortal Combat, Final Fantasy, Resident Evil, Doom 3, Phasmophobia, Five Nights At Freddy’s, Twisted Wonderland, Call of Duty, Halo 3 and 4, Sonic and Transformers. If it’s a game or relating to horror, chances are I love it.

Comics: Batman is my passion. I collect anything related to the Dark Knight, and my collection is my pride and joy.

Anime/Manga: I'm into One Piece, Princess TuTu, JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Jujutsu Kaisen, Yu-Gi-Oh!, Kingdom Hearts, Sgt. Frog, Free!, HellSing, and a bunch more. I have also seen MHA, Fairy Tail, Dragon Ball, Soul Eater, Naruto, Castlevania, Diabolik Lovers and more.

Disney & Tim Burton: I’m a Disney kid at heart. My top 5 Disney movies are Treasure Planet, Cinderella 3, The Nightmare Before Christmas, Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides, and The Princess and the Frog. And I’m all about Halloween and everything Tim Burton.

Music: I love RnB and Y2K music so much! However, you can usually find me listening to cutesy, cheesy love songs.

❤︎ 𝒞𝒽𝒾𝑒𝓃𝓃𝑒’𝓈 Interests: 

Gaming: I’m definitely not the biggest gamer around, but I do love to play Roblox, Fortnite, and Minecraft! Sometimes I’ll also dabble in some fall guys, FNAF or Poppy’s Playtime. On Roblox, I love to play pretty much anything but pvp games due to the fact that I’m not the best at them. Horror games are probably my favorite, even though I’m a chicken!

Anime/Manga: My favorites are definitely Fairy Tail, Jojo’s bizarre adventure, Naruto, and Demon slayer. I’ve also watched MHA, Danganronpa, Yona of the Dawn, Food wars, High Rise Invasion, Angels of death, and more!

Disney and Tim Burton: I’m definitely a Disney girl! I love all Disney Princess movies, both animated and live action. My top three not in any particular order would have to be Tangled, The Little Mermaid, and Princess and the Frog. For Tim Burton, my favorites are the classics, The nightmare before Christmas and Corpse bride. 

Books: I’m also a huge book girly! My favorite genre has to be fantasy/sci-fi. My favorite book series is The Lunar Chronicles, I definitely recommend it!

♡ Join the Fun ♡

This is an invitation to you, dear reader, to become a part of our narrative. Engage with us, inspire us, and let us inspire you.

So, come on in, get comfy, and let's share the joy of stories. The next chapter is always the best one, and it starts right here, with you and us. Requests are always welcome in the ask box! and even inquiries, should you have any!

With all the warmth in our hearts,

𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹 & 𝒞𝒽𝒾𝑒𝓃𝓃𝑒

P.S: 𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹 drew the image, just so most people can get a idea of what we look like♡ AND THE G.M FIARY BOOK IS FOR FUN, for the pure shits and giggles TRUST

#writers #writeblr #writing #writing life #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #new writeblr #writeblr intro #writeblr community #introduction post #hi!!! #nice to meet you #fantasy #fiction #YA authors #aspiring author #meet me #meet the writer #introduction #blog intro #introductory post #intro post #introducing myself #meet the artist #artists on tumblr #intro #fanfic #headcannons #fanfic author #headcannon writer

[sotwk]

Can you tell us more about Mirion's wife and children 👀

Hello Anon! I believe this is the second time you've asked me about Crown Prince Mirion and his family, and appreciate your interest so much. 🥰 Mirion is my personal favorite of the OC Thranduilions, so any inquiries about him are dear to me.

I have been keeping the details about Mirion's family under wraps for so long, but I no longer see a good reason to keep them secret, so here we go: some basic headcanon info that will hopefully satisfy your curiosity. 😉

For those who might care: some SotWK AU Spoilers ahead!

SotWK AU Headcanons: Crown Prince Mirion and his "Golden" Family

Although Mirion tragically died in his attempt to free his homeland from the Necromancer (his efforts did drive Sauron out of Dol Guldur for a time and gave Mirkwood four centuries of respite), he left behind a beautiful wife and two children to continue his legacy. His son gave Thranduil a new heir and continued hope for the future of their line and kingdom.

Because Mirion's wife was an Eldar of powerful lineage and incredible strength in her own right, she and their children helped Mirkwood to stay strong and protected through the dangers the realm faced in the Third Age.

And when Thranduil's grandchildren took over the rule of Eryn Lasgalen in the Fourth Age, it ushered in a new Golden Era for the last remaining Kingdom of Elves on Middle-earth.

MIRION'S WIFE - PRINCESS ITARILDË

SotWK Fancast: Teresa Palmer (A Discovery of Witches)

Mirion's wife is Princess Itarildë, an elleth with a rare mix of Noldor-Vanyar-Teleri blood with "royal" lineage on both sides of her family.

Itarildë’s mother is Nimeithel (a SotWK OC), the younger sister of Nimloth and niece of Celeborn.

Nimeithel is featured in my ongoing Thranduil x Maereth series, Sins of Our Fathers. She grew up with Thranduil in Doriath, and was the one who introduced him to Maereth.

Itarildë’s father is Maranwon (SotWK OC), the grandson of Glorfindel and his wife Elemírë (SotWK OC), who was the sister of Elenwë, late wife of King Turgon.

Itarildë has a high Eldar "pedigree" due to her lineage, but that was not what attracted Mirion to her. On the contrary, her noble background nearly caused the Crown Prince to decide against pursing her hand in marriage, despite their deep love for each other.

Before ever meeting Itarildë, Mirion had intended to choose his wife and future Queen among the Silvan elves of Greenwood, out of love for his people and his wish to honor the land's native race. (Something Thranduil was unable to do by marrying a Noldor.)

Mirion agonized over this conflict between his duty and his heart until his parents persuaded him to pursue his own happiness.

Itarildë is older than Mirion by a few decades, born in Lothlorien but raised in Rivendell. Her father died in the War of the Last Alliance fighting alongside his surrogate father, Gil-galad.

She takes after her father's side of the family; she is passionate, joyful, strong-willed, and has a radiant presence that commands and captivates every room she enters. She has a compassionate heart and a determination to effect good changes in the world.

She adores her husband's brothers and counsels and cares for them as an elder sister.

She is a fearless and skilled warrior (what else would you expect from the great-granddaughter of Glorfindel), who more than holds her own whenever she marches into battle alongside the princes.

It is later discovered that something about Itarildë’s presence causes the Spiders of Mirkwood to flee; just looking upon her somehow pains or deters them, and so they never attack her directly.

Mirion's death broke Itarildë and very nearly caused her to fade; she was brought back only by the healing efforts and pleas of her daughter. But her joyful spirit never recovered.

MIRION'S SON - PRINCE ARANION

SotWK Fancast: Bradley James (Merlin)

Aranion is the elder child of Mirion and Itarildë, making him the eldest grandchild of Thranduil and second-in-line to the throne of the Woodland Realm.

Upon Mirion's death, Aranion inherited the title of Crown Prince of Mirkwood. (This responsibility never fell to Legolas, which is why he remained free to travel, join the Fellowship, and and even sail to Valinor as he eventually did.)

After Maereth died, Thranduil became very focused on preparing Aranion for the throne, since he was then resolved to sail for Valinor and rejoin his wife--once the future of Mirkwood and his people had been secured with his grandson in place.

The name Aranion translates to "Son of the King" in Quenya, but the prince was actually named after the plant kingsfoil or athelas, also known as asëa aranion. Kingsfoil did not grow naturally in the Greenwood forest, since it thrived in the Western lands.

However, in the year of Itarildë's pregnancy with Aranion, kingsfoil began to sprout in abundance in the lands surrounding their home.

Although the Mirkwood Elves previously had no use for kingsfoil, later in the Third Age the plant became an vital resource in their healing for wounds inflicted by orcs and other beasts coming from Dol Guldur.

Aranion is utterly devoted to his homeland and the Silvan people of Mirkwood, a sentiment that they reciprocate with fierce love and loyalty. While not as politically-savvy as his forebears, he is a "people's prince", spending most of his days working alongside the common folk of the realm.

Although he is often compared to his great, great-grandfather Glorfindel, Aranion's cheerful, energetic, and light-hearted temperament is actually most similar to that of his uncle Legolas, to whom he was always very close.

The Prince is a fearless and naturally gifted fighter, whose innate talents were enhanced by centuries of intensive instruction and training from the greatest warriors on Middle-earth, including Thranduil and Glorfindel.

As the darkness worsened in the Third Age, Thranduil grew extremely protective of Aranion, increasing to paranoia at the loss of his wife and each of his sons. As decades passed the prince's very existence soon became unknown to outsiders, which was what Thranduil had intended.

By the events of the Hobbit, Aranion was forbidden from traveling outside of Mirkwood, and was not permitted to participate in the Battle of the Five Armies.

MIRION'S DAUGHTER - PRINCESS ANARIEL

SotWK Fancast: Gabriella Wilde (The Three Musketeers, Poldark)

Anariel is the younger child of Mirion and Itarildë and second grandchild of Thranduil and Maereth.

Beautiful and sweet beyond compare, she is very much the darling treasure of not only her grandfather Thranduil, but also of her loving uncles who have doted on her since she was a baby (probably because they never had a little sister of their own).

Unlike her boisterous older brother, Anariel is reserved, introverted, and avoids drawing attention to herself. She prefers to listen rather than speak.

Large crowds and excessive noises make her very uncomfortable, and it is possible she suffers from a mild form of sensory overload.

However, she very much carries the courage and willingness to serve that runs in her family, and devotes herself to the welfare of the people of Mirkwood.

Anariel is highly intelligent, much like her uncle Arvellas. Being a voracious reader and learner herself, she grew especially close to the Scholar Prince and gained knowledge and abilities from him.

She lived in Rivendell for periods of long years throughout the Third Age, during which she was mentored by Lord Elrond himself, and became skilled in the healing arts.

Anariel has actually already appeared in one of my WIP fics, although she was not yet named/identified. The first person to comment and tell me correctly which fic/character I am referring to, will receive a special prize from me from the Tumblr Market!

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Tolkien Headcanon tag list: @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @tamryniel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @aduialel @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @klytemnestra13 @creativity-of-death @heilith @fizzyxcustard @absentmindeduniverse @lathalea @tamurilofrivendell @jordie-your-local-halfling @ladyk8tie @scyllas-revenge @asianbutnotjapanese @conversacomsmaug @lemonivall @ratsys @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @entishramblings @stormchaser819 @freshalmondpandadonut @beekieboo

Interested in more SotWK AU content?

Introduction to SotWK

My Headcanon Masterlist 

My Fanfiction Masterlist

#sotwk answers #sotwk headcanon #sotwk ocs #mirion thranduilion #crown prince mirion #thranduil #mirkwood elves #silmarillion oc #glorfindel #aranion #anariel #Itarildë #tolkien #tolkien ocs #the hobbit #legolas

[haradasaya]

The Swan Princess

Thank you to everyone who has supported me in the journey of this story, it means so much to me!! Specifically thank you to @marcethegeek @halscafe @palilious and @sri-rachaa for being besties with me while writing this!! Love y'all &lt;3

CW: Fem Listener character/Fem Lovely (There will be a gender neutral version once this has been released in it's entirety)

Chapter 1

Vincent pushed open the doors to the war council room, his monarch seated at the head of a long wooden table—the seat reserved for the king of the kingdom of Solaire—glasses set low on his nose, chin set lazily in his hand as he spoke with another noble of their court. Vincent slowed his stride into long, soft steps as he rounded the table towards his king, who ushered away the man he had been speaking to upon seeing his son approaching. Vincent stood at attention before his father, hand pressed in a fist over his heart to salute him. 

“Father, you called for me?”

The king rose from his seat to stand eye to eye with his son, gesturing for him to take the seat to his right. “Ah, my boy. Yes, I did. Would you please join me at our table?”

Vincent moved towards the chair by his father and sat down beside him, hesitant about what his monarch wanted him for with such urgency. “What can I do for you?”

William took off his glasses slowly, setting them down in such a way that conveyed the importance of whatever he was about to say. He exhaled slowly before beginning. “How have you been lately? Keeping up with your duties I presume?”

Vincent forced a smile, unsure of how or if that question would relate to whatever his king had summoned him for. “I have been well, father. Attending to many of the royal inquiries and training with the knights has certainly taken up much of my time and attention.”

“Good, good;” Was all William said, his hand coming to his chin in thought.

“Does something trouble you, my lord?” Vincent asked, desiring to ease the burden of his monarch if it was in his power to do so. 

“No no, nothing troubles me. I simply… well. I believe there is something that we need to speak about.”

Vincent sat forward, leaning his arms against the table. “Go on.”

William sighed. “Well my son, as you already know, I am growing old in years. I knew that a time would come when I would need to pass the crown onto you, but… in light of our past situation, I had simply hoped that there would be more time. Alas, time does not cease, even for those who would wish it so. I believe now is the time that I must begin preparing you to take on the role to which you have been born—and as such, there are things of you which I require.”

Vincent instantly sat up straight, spine completely vertical as he had been taught in his youth—because despite the casual tone with which William spoke, Vincent knew this conversation was not from father to son: but from King to Prince. 

“Given the circumstances of your past, I feel as though we have been more than patient in grieving with you after your loss: but enough time has now passed that I believe you are ready to take the next step toward receiving your crown.”

Vincent inhaled deeply, processing his father’s words. “Please William, speak plainly with me.”

The monarch sighed again, righting himself in his chair and bringing his soft gaze to meet his son’s. “In four days time, the Solaire kingdom will host a ball here in our castle. Of the eligible ladies invited, you are to choose a bride to take the crown with you at your coronation in one week.”

Vincent’s eyes shot wide, his mouth moving to his defense, but William raised a hand to stop him, knowing his son all too well. “This is her family’s will as much as it is my own. Vincent, I know that you loved her dearly, but it is time to let her go. All this grieving has done nothing but drive you away—from me, from your people; and most of all, from your duty. You are still the crown prince of the Solaire Kingdom, and you still have a duty to fulfill.”

“Well, I—” he stuttered, still completely unable to form a thought in reply. Was he really being asked to move on from what had happened like it was nothing? Like he could recover from the loss of his one true love in a measly year? “What if I refuse?” 

“You will not,” was William’s reply. “You will be king, and you will have a queen by your side when you are crowned.”

“Then I do not want the crown!” Vincent said angrily, rising from his chair. “Father, how can you ask such a thing of me?”

His father shook his head, not quite out of disappointment but something close to it. “My son, it does not please me to ask this of you—not when the wounds of your loss are still so deep. When I lost your mother…”

Vincent bit his tongue so hard it bled, the metallic taste in his mouth only adding to the bitterness that he felt. William knew that speaking of his wife and the mother of their child was the quickest way to silencing his son, as Vincent had loved her so dearly. When she fell ill, it was as if the whole world had come crumbling down around them both, losing the little light and warmth that was already so easily lost in the life of a royal. And now, though Vincent would never speak the words aloud, a small part of him despised his father for using her to make his point.

“Well, as I stated before; time goes on. Duties to your kingdom must be fulfilled and order must still be maintained.”

Vincent gawked. “I do not want to do this—”

“It is no longer about what you want, my son. This is about the kingdom’s needs. As much as I would wish it, I will not be alive forever, and I must ensure that your coronation goes smoothly. Your life, this kingdom, and the wellbeing of all whom you serve depends on it.”

William approached his son, placing a hand on his shoulder. It was firm, grounding him to the floor in a way that William hoped would help him see reality, though Vincent truly felt like all William was doing was keeping him from fleeing. “This is no longer a request from father to son, but an order from your monarch.”

Vincent’s heart raced in his chest, his breathing coming too rapidly for him to calm himself, as his mother had taught him to do when he was younger. He didn’t know what to do, what to think. He needed to get himself out of there before he exploded.

“As… as you wish, William.”

The king tried to understand what his son was going through, but the reality was that he could never do so, as his life had been so different from his sons. The love that he’d come to know with his bride had been just as special as the one that Vincent had come to know with his love—and yet despite both their stories ending in tragedy, William knew that getting to spend most of their lives together before losing his wife was nowhere near what his son was dealing with now. He wanted to understand, but the pain of one heartbreak does not rival the pain of two. “This is for the best, my boy. You may not understand that now, but you will. I swear it.”

Vincent simply bowed, ducking below and out of his father’s reach. “As you wish.” He simply repeated. He stood at attention, saluting his monarch once more. “By your leave, your majesty.”

The prince did not wait for a reply from his king, before turning and striding from the war council room, practically running in his hasty retreat from the king’s presence. The guard attending the entrance to the throne room barely had time to swing open the massive wooden doors before the prince forced his way out, his heart deafeningly loud in his chest.

Vincent pressed his palms into the cool stone of the railing that led the way to the war council room, forcing his breath into his lungs as he looked out over the rolling hills and eventual beachy waves and endless ocean that could be seen from the castle. The warm summer wind wrapped smoothly around his face, whipping his hair in every direction, blowing the tassels of his shirt from his chest as they sought to follow the pull of the wind.

How could they ask such a thing of him? Have none of them any compassion? It had only been a year, how could anyone expect him to have simply let go of her? Of all the times they had? Of the love that they’d had? He’d watched his father lose his mother all those years ago, and to this day he still wasn’t the same. Vincent knew, with every fiber of his being, that he’d have been lost forever after the death of his mother if it wasn’t for his love. She’d been the only one to pull him out of the darkness that had begun to fill up his heart. He never thought he’d have to go through that pain even once in his life, let alone twice. 

And the court thought they could ask that of him? Her family had as well implored him to move on from the love he’d had with their only child? What misery! Sorrow so deeply felt is not so easily forgot.

Vincent tasted the blood in his mouth, and reached for his tongue with his finger. His finger returned coated in that crimson liquid, and set off immediately to find a physician to remedy at least this ailment.

.

.

.

.

.

The final golden rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the whole of the magical valley into shadow. The sound of magic whirred through their air, before swirling around a swan floating near the edge of the lake. The dark red and black mist bent and twisted the shape of the animal until it dispersed, leaving in the water a woman, shoes soaked and ankles wet. She lifted her skirts, stepping out of her slippers and sloshing up the beach. A full year as a swan had taken a toll on her heart, but nothing was worse than wearing wet clothes and shoes for the whole night. At least it was summer again, and the nights would be warmer than they had been all winter.

Lovely set her things on the log she’d been using as a makeshift table, having spent some of her lonely nights creating things for herself that reminded her of home. She couldn’t recall the amount of times that she’d written her love’s name in the sand at her feet at the very table she sat at now, praying silently for the day that he’d come rescue her.

A year had passed though, and he’d never come. And despite the glimmer of hope in her heart, she had also accepted her fate, should she spend the rest of her days trapped within this enchantment. It hadn’t been easy at first, and now that a year had passed with no progress, her curse had evolved from simply transforming her into a swan each day to her body beginning to fall ill with each change. It seemed that being cursed to take the form of a swan in the light of the sun, and to never venture too far from the lake that she must return to when she transforms wasn’t punishment enough for whatever unspoken wickedness from her past had gotten her here: now she must spend her few human hours preventing a coughing fit from sending her to an early grave! Just the other night, in the midst of a coughing fit, she had hacked up crimson liquid upon her sleeve, the infection slowly worsening with time. Oh how Lovely wished she had fought back harder against the sorcerer that had done this to her while she still had strength in her bones. Why, even now if he dared show himself, she’d—

“Oh little swan princess?” Came a voice from just beyond the treeline. 

Lovely whipped around to see the approaching form of the one who had cursed her. She hated to admit it, but after all this time alone, with only his voice to quell the ringing silence within and around her, she was just a little bit glad to have someone to talk to, even just for a small moment. Even if he was only here to petition her for something that she was not willing to give. She hated herself for thinking it.

“What do you want, Adam?”

The sorcerer clicked his teeth together. “Now now, there is no need for such hostility. I’ve simply come to check on my darling swan. Yet another night with no sign of your brave prince. Have you finally given up hope that he’s coming to rescue you?”

She balled her fists so tightly she feared her nails would pierce the skin of her palms, but did everything in her power not to show him how deeply his words struck. “I do not need to be rescued.”

“Yes, well. That much is true, lovely.”

Lovely hated that he called her that. Only her prince had called her lovely—hearing the word from Adam’s mouth only poisoned it with each uttering. “I know you do not wish to dally with me in trivial conversation. Have you come to bother me once again with your meaningless pesterings?”

Adam lifted his head and turned it, angling his body away from her as he did so. “My, you are such a feisty one. Always so hasty to send me away despite being your only company. What a terrible princess you must have made.”

Lovely forced a grin. “You know nothing of my being a princess. We had the displeasure of meeting but once, and for whatever Godforsaken reason, you decided that was enough to attempt to steal my kingdom from me.”

“Yes, and quite lucky you are that your charming prince had gifted you that magical amulet that protects you from the brunt of my power. Otherwise, you’d have been my dainty marionette long ago.”

“Such benign tricks seem beneath a grand sorcerer such as yourself, Adam. Are you truly weak enough that a simple gemstone over my heart is enough to prevent you from taking what you want? Oh wait, don’t answer that, I suppose I already know my answer.”

Adam huffed, turning to face the seated princess yet again. “Riling me up will do nothing for your current predicament. You don’t want to see me cross again—unless you’re enjoying the new modification to your curse that I made? I’ve heard that illness of the lungs is untreatable these days.”

Lovely had nothing to say in return, praying that he hadn’t heard her tireless coughing fits by night—or if he had, that he would not speak of them.

“This all could be over tonight if you would but give me what I want, you know. My offer is ever extended, your majesty.”

Lovely turned herself in her chair, facing away from Adam. “And my answer remains the same, or have you forgotten?”

In a moment, his back was pressed to hers, her chin held between his blackened fingers. “I grow tired of your games, little swan. You may have bested me once, but I swear that I will find my way around this little gem of yours,” Adam reached towards her necklace, his blackened fingers burning even just at trying to grab a hold of the pendant, “and I will finish what I started a year ago. Mark my words.”

He released her from his grip, striding away without saying another word. Lovely wiped at her chin, a desperate attempt to get the feeling of his fingers off her… but to no avail. His touch was like venom that creeped into her heart. He wasn’t able to use magic to control her, instead cursing her into changing forms when the sun rose and set. Adam was relentless in his scheme to use her for her kingdom, to use her to invade and seize control of the Kingdom of Solaire, where her prince was.

She would protect him, even if it meant sacrificing her own life. And if that meant she would live the rest of her days as a swan and the rest of her nights alone in the dark forest, then she would do so for him. He deserved to live a happy life. She just wished that she was there to see it too.

And so, when Lovely curled herself into a ball on the makeshift bed she’d crafted for herself, she dreamed of the day when Vincent Solaire would come and save her from this nightmare she’d found herself in.

#redacted lovely #redacted vincent #redacted audio #redacted asmr #redacted william #redacted sam #redacted darlin #Saya's fics #swan lake au #i love him sm #i love them #sayas redacted swan lake au

[loosesodamarble]

Hi ☺️ Can I have c4 w Finral? 😊

Hello hello, Anon! Hi! I'm so very sorry that it took me half a year to fulfill your request! I got carried away with other things in life and I just completely forgot about this. I'm really sorry for making you wait on this request.

I hope that this little fic makes you happy despite the wait.

Summary: You have a quiet little reunion with your boyfriend Finral. And he gives some sweet words which make your day. Genre: romance, fluff Word count: ~800

..........

You let out a loud yawn as you passed the threshold of your squad’s base.

You’d been out on an extended mission, helping watch the border. You didn’t see much point in the job since Diamond Kingdom had become weirdly inactive as of late. Something about taking a major blow during a battle at the Witches’ Forest. The border mission had been uneventful and thus boring. You felt like you’d wasted your time just walking around and twiddling your thumbs.

However, you were now home, ready to rest and prepare for more normal missions again.

As you approached your room, you noticed a figure, the familiar form of your partner Finral, standing right outside your door. Finral turned and his smile stretched so wide, you would’ve had to have been blind to miss it.

“You’re back!” Finral exclaimed and ran up to you. “I heard you were coming back today and I knew I had to welcome you back!” He extended his arms to his sides. “Hug?”

You nodded and let yourself into his embrace. It only lasted a few seconds before you felt like the hug had become too cuddly. Sure, you and Finral were dating but you didn’t need to be especially lovey-dovey with him. So you leaned away from him.

“Thanks for welcoming me back, Finral,” you said with a gracious nod.

Side-by-side, you and Finral went into the room and decided to lounge in the matching armchairs you had for decor. As they were placed to face each other, you were keenly aware of Finral staring at you with a lovestruck grin on his face.

“What is it?” you asked, raising your brow.

Finral shrugged then gave a casual, “Oh nothing, just admiring you.”

“That so? And… What exactly are you admiring?” The question was part joking and part genuine.

Back when you first started dating Finral, you had challenged him that he couldn’t make you blush with a single compliment. A silly challenge, you’d admit, but you kept yourself very composed that not even Finral’s corniest flirtations got to you.

“I love your everything-ness with all my everything-ness!”

“Has anyone else ever complimented your overwhelming, awe-inspiring spirit!”

“Your all-encompassing charm has me in a spell!”

The words were sweet and genuine but so silly that you only ever rolled your eyes and laughed.

So you offered him another chance at flustering you.

“You’re so adorable,” was all Finral responded with, his eyes never leaving yours as he spoke.

Somehow, that short and simple phrase was making your heart pound and filling your head with a good kind of fuzziness. You didn’t feel yourself warm up, thankfully. So you tried your best to brush it off before it really got to you.

“That’s not gonna work on me.” But on the inside, it was totally working.

“It’s not?” Finral faux whined, his smile still on his face. “But I’ve been holding that one in for so long!”

You quirked up a brow and hummed in confusion. Finral noticed, and answered your silent inquiry.

“I thought you were adorable from day one, you know!” he blurted out. “But I never said it because you’re so cool and composed too so I thought you might take it the wrong way. But like… The way you smile, your penmanship, how you always let me hug you when I ask—”

“I didn’t let you hug me last week,” you interjected, trying to ignore the butterflies emerging in your stomach. Why did your curiosity have to get the better of you?

“Right. Correction: how you usually let me hug you when I ask. Oh, and there’s your dimples!” Finral’s dreamy smile never left his face. “There’s a lot more but…” He leaned his head back and sighed. “All in all, you’re just so adorable to me.”

There was nothing special to what he was saying. He wasn’t being especially poetic nor was he calling out anything grand. He was complimenting you, the everyday parts of you. And when Finral finished speaking, there was no denying the heat that you felt in your face. You were blushing without a doubt.

“W-well would you look at that.” You left your armchair and walked to stand over Finral. “You’ve finally made me blush.”

“Huh?!” Finral shot up and held your face. “Oh my gosh! Even your blushing face is adorable!”

Your gaze flicked to the side. “Yup, and now you’ve won the challenge.”

“Oh I don’t think so!” Finral pulled back and winked at you. “That was a whole slew of compliments I gave you. I need to bring that glow to your face with only one! Looks like I’ll have to try real hard now!”

You laughed. As silly as Finral was, he wasn’t the type of man to take the easy way out.

But now, you looked forward to the sweet and simple things that Finral might one day say to you.

#questions from the ask box #black clover #finral roulacase #black clover fanfic #finral roulacase x reader #x reader #300 follower special #a moment in time #unlike other requests from this event #i struggled to make the requested quote flow just on it's own so i added some lines inbetween