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unfinishedslurs · 1 year

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bodyswap (steddie)

So, they beat Vecna. Nancy shoots him full of lead, El tears him apart from the inside, and Steve and Robin burn this version of the Creel House down with him in it. It’s over. It’s finally, finally over.

Steve ignores the reopened wounds in his side, racing to get back to Dustin and Eddie before the gates close forever. The ground rumbles again and all three of them stumble, Robin taking his hand and yanking him along when he falters.

“You can pass out when we get topside!” She screams at him, and he tries to give her a thumbs up before he wraps that hand around his bleeding torso.

They get to the trailer park, but Dustin and Eddie aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Steve almost rips Robin’s arm out of her socket when he turns around and runs.

“Dustin,” he bellows. There are dead demobats everywhere, and the mass of them on the ground thickens in a particular direction. He heads that way with a sinking feeling in his gut. “Dustin! We need to fucking move!”

“Steve!” He hears Dustin wail, and all self preservation leaves him as he bolts, landing heavily on his knees at Dustin’s side and immediately checking him over for injuries.

“Are you okay?” He gasps, holding his tearstained face in his hands. “Where are you hurt? Show me.”

Dustin shakes his head, crying harder, and that’s when Steve notices the limp body right in front of him.

Eddie coughs up blood. “Wow, Harrington,” he grins, “nice to see that you care.”

“Shit, shit, shit.” It’s bad. Steve goes into preservation mode, stripping off his jacket and shirt and using them to press down on the many, many bites littering Eddie’s body. He senses Robin and Nancy catch up behind him, and hears Nancy gasp.

“What do you need?” She asks, dropping down on Eddie’s other side.

“Robin and Dustin need to find a new way to get through the portal,” he says, looking over at them. “I can’t carry him and use the rope.”

“Rope’s gone, anyway,” Dustin mutters. “He cut it.”

“You cut the rope?”

Eddie shrugs as much as he can. “Seemed..” he coughs again, red and wet, “…like a good idea…at the time.”

“Stupid,” Dustin corrects angrily. “It was really fucking stupid.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Nancy says frantically. Robin nods, and takes Dustin away swiftly. Steve files Dustin’s limp in the back of his mind for later. “What do I need to do?”

“Help me keep him from bleeding out,” Steve says as he gathers Eddie into his arms. Eddie turns and nuzzles his face into Steve’s chest. It’s weird, but at least he’s alive to do it. “I might need help walking, too.”

“Right.” She examines him worriedly. “On three?”

He heaves Eddie up on the count of three, and Eddie whines, long and pained. “Sorry,” Steve gasps, the wounds on his side tearing. “Sorry.”

“S’kay,” Eddie mumbles, closing his eyes. He doesn’t open them again, and Steve jostles him.

“Hey, no passing out on me, got it? Keep those eyes open for me.”

The last thing he can remember is feeling Eddie’s blood mixing into his, their open wounds pressed together. Then he blacks out.

He wakes up in a hospital bed.

Dustin is beaming at him, teary and happy like Steve’s never seen him before. Not even when he agreed to play one campaign with the scoops troop, and admitted at the end that Dungeons and Dragons wasn’t that bad. Too much math and writing and thinking for him, it made his head hurt, but not, like, awful.

Steve thinks he’d wake up in a million hospital beds if it meant Dustin always smiled like this.

“—Robin’s with Steve, we’ve been taking shifts. Well, the rest of us have. She hasn’t actually left his side. He’s woken up a couple of times, like you, but you both fall right back asleep after,” Dustin’s saying, and Steve blinks, foggy.

“…Steve?”

“Yeah, he collapsed after he carried you out. Went septic, because he didn’t take care of himself again like an idiot and his bites got infected.”

“Wait,” Steve says. “Is there another Steve? Were you hiding another Steve behind my back? Where’s Eddie?”

Dustin stares at him. “You are Eddie.”

“S’not funny, Henderson. I just woke up from a fuckin’ coma, I don’t need this shit right now.”

“Did the bats eat your brains?” He demands. “Shit, do you have brain damage? What’s wrong with you?”

Steve pouts. “That’s not funny, you know I do.” Dustin’s seen him through his fair share of migraines, knows more about what to do and what exactly causes them than Steve, probably. The perks of getting your ass kicked in front of the smartest eighth graders on the planet.

“They gotcha on the good stuff, huh kid?” A man says from the other side of his bed. Steve whips around, only just realizing that this guy is also holding his hand. There’s multiple hand-holdings going on here, which he knows is normal for hospitals but doesn’t know why this random stranger is doing it. Does he know Dustin? Is this the other Steve?

“Who’re you?”

He looks hurt by this, which makes Steve feel like a monster. But his brain won’t work, he’s definitely high on some kind of painkillers, Dustin is being confusing, and he’s tired.

“That’s your Uncle Wayne,” Dustin reminds him.

“I don’t have an uncle,” Steve replies, frowning. His parents are both only children, as far as he’s aware, and they don’t have any friends that would call themselves his uncle. Still, the name sounds familiar. “Doesn’t Eddie have an Uncle Wayne?”

“What the hell are you going on about?” Uncle Wayne asks.

“You’re Eddie,” Dustin insists, confused and somewhat panicked. Now he knows how Steve feels.

“No I’m not.” Steve scowls, sick of whatever game he’s playing to fuck with Steve’s head. “I’m Steve.”

Dustin’s eyes widen, and Steve gets the sinking feeling that something is very, very wrong.

The door slams open.

“Dustin!” Robin hollers, eyes wild. “Something is wrong with Dingus! That’s not my dingus!”

“Robbie!” He says excitedly, and tries to sit up. Which goes poorly for him. Ow.

She looks at him, and a diamonds worth of emotions crosses her face at once. “…Steve?”

“Yes,” he cheers. At least someone knows who he is.

“How did you know?” Dustin demands.

“I’d know that drugged up puppy-dog look anywhere,” Robin replies, eyes still on Steve. “Plus, there’s a guy in Steve’s body trying to tell Nancy what kind of campaign he could make out of this.”

“My body?” Steve asks, horrified, just as that Wayne guy says, “Now hol’ up just one second—“

Robin pulls a compact mirror out of her pocket and approaches the bed with caution.

Wayne is ushered out, still loudly demanding answers for what the hell is going on with his nephew. Steve wishes he had them.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Robin says with a grin. “This is great.”

“Literally how,” Steve deadpans.

“Well maybe not great for you, but I’m about to have the time of my life. Eddie, quick, say something nerdy.”

“What,” Eddie says flatly. It’s weird to see his expressions on Steve’s face. His face shouldn’t look like that, shouldn’t move like that.

“C’mon,” she urges, “I wanna hear Steve’s voice talk about dnd, or your shitty music, or the moral majority.”

“Hey!” Steve objects. “We do talk about the moral majority.”

“Yeah, but we’re always serious about it. I wanna hear Munson give one of his tabletop speeches.”

Eddie looks baffled, which looks so different from the face Steve makes when he’s confused. It’s got the bare bones of it, but the finer details are off, trying to use a face that isn’t his. It’s creepy. Robin must agree, because she shudders a little.

“You, Steve Harrington, talk about the moral majority?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended, at the same time Robin says, “Oh, you should hear him. It’s incredible.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Eddie answers, and Steve huffs, throwing his hands up as much as he can when he’s stuck in a hospital bed. Which means he basically just makes a little gesture and hopes it gets the message across.

“I don’t see what’s so shocking about it! A bunch of assholes declared that my kids were in a cult. They were going to hunt you down. Why would I be on their side?”

“I dunno, Stevie,” Eddie says, eyes glinting. “I guess it’s just a shock to me that the straight, rich-boy jock would have something to say about it. What’re they teaching you in those churches?”

He can’t quite stop the grimace that flashes across his face, meeting Robin’s eyes almost on instinct. Eddie’s eyebrows jut up.

“What’d I say?”

“I haven’t been to church in two years, man,” Steve admits, avoiding the other glaring assumption. “Once you have to save the lives of kids from monsters that shouldn’t exist, God doesn’t really seem that great.”

It was for the better, really, that Steve had given up. No amount of praying or bargaining made him forget how Jonathan Byers’s hand felt in his as they ran for their lives. It didn’t stop the monsters from coming back either.

Still, he hadn’t really stopped believing until Robin came out to him. He looked at her, this scared, brave girl who spit in the face of their torturers, the girl who Steve was pretty sure was his best friend, and quietly came to terms with the fact that if she was going to hell, there was never a god to begin with.

Robin had cried when he told her that.

Eddie is staring at him, eyes wide and searching. It keeps tripping him up, how different his own face is when someone else is wearing it.

“You’d think seeing hell would make anyone a believer,” he says, voice wry. “You keep surprising me.”

Steve fidgets, staring down at his legs. “It was just…it was always a lose-lose situation, you know? Either I stop going to church and go to hell, or I do what they want and end up there anyway. I can’t be what they want me to be, so why even try? There’s no point.”

When he looks up again, he meets Robin’s eyes first. She looks achingly fond, smiling at him as she gives his hand a squeeze. He gives a small smile back, and looks at Eddie.

He’s wide-eyed, surprise coloring every inch of his face. Or, well, Steve’s face. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, that’s— that's exactly it.”

“Dude, does Jonathan scare you?”

“What?”

“Your body, like, goes haywire around him. He checked my—your—the injuries I’m currently sporting and I thought I was gonna die.”

Steve’s face heats up. “I’m not scared of Jonathan.”

“It’s ok, Steve, you can tell me the truth,” Eddie says, only a little bit of mockery in his tone. “I’ll protect you from Big Bad Byers.”

He closes his eyes in mortification. “I’m not scared,” he stresses, “of Jonathan Byers.”

“Really? Because I wasn’t joking about thinking I was dying. Your heart goes crazy around…him…” Eddie trails off, eyes widening as he clocks the blush spreading down Steve’s neck.

Fuck Eddie’s pale skin, seriously. Steve’s tan enough that people barely notice, but Eddie seems like he spends a sunny day sitting in his room working on song lyrics or campaign notes. He wants his fucking body back.

Shit, he’s in Eddie’s body, and Eddie just found out he’s queer. He’s a queer man in Eddie’s body. He’s going to think Steve’s some kind of perv, or using his dick, or…or…

“Byers?” Eddie finally says. “Of all the men in the world, Byers is the one you pick?”

Steve’s eyes pop open from where he’d squeezed them shut. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

#bodyswap au #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #featuring steve's lowkey crush on jonathan bc i am never not stonathan truthing #stranger things fanfic

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scholastic-dragon · 7 months

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Hello o' talented one! I beseech thee to answer my request. (Feel like I'm summoning the Eternal Dragon 🐉)

If it pleases you and fulfills you're requirements: the baybois unspoken crush suddenly smooching them after thinking the bois died in a mission. Separately, of course.

Thank youuuu

This was the fanciest request I've ever gotten

^ this is how I felt when I started writing this lmao

(Seperate)Bay!Turtles x Gn!reader

Home Safe

Tears streamed down your face, your leg bouncing, making your body shake. I'd been hours. He was supposed to be back hours ago.

You sat in his room, on his bed, hands holding your head, willing the thoughts to stop.

He was going to come home.

He will.

He had to.

He promised.

It was a simple mission, one they'd done with the police force dozens of times. Find the tagged target, pin and neutralize them, and beat the shit out of them so the cops could take them to the station.

But this gang was known to be violent. Without reason. Without mercy.

He'd hugged you goodbye, and now you wished you'd followed your gut and told him right then and there that you loved him.

Voices rang outside the door, your heart leap: it was several.

You stand, facing the door, heart pounding.

The door opens, and there he stands....

Leo:

You sob, rushing forward, wrapping your arms around his midsection.

"Hey, hey," He coos, wincing slightly. Dropping his sheathed katanas to the floor he wraps his large arms around you. "It's alright,"

"I thought you died," You whisper, voice thick. You look up at him, he's covered in dirt and mud, and splatters of blood but he's alive and in your arms.

"I'm alright, mission just went a little sideways is all-"

Reaching up you cup his cheeks and smash your lips to his. He yelps against you, only waiting a second before kissing back, his hands frozen around your back.

You pull away, standing on your tiptoes, you kiss the words on his lips. "I love you, I've loved you for years. I'm sorry I never told you. I wanted to but I was scared. But I'm not scared now. I want you in my life forever,"

Leo's blue eyes goes wide, a smile stretching across his face. "I love you too,"

One of his hands slips into your hair, pulling you in for another passionate kiss.

Raph:

He sighs heavily, holding his shoulder, dropping his weapons half hazardly to the floor.

His eyes find your shaking form, his own going wide. "Y/n?"

You sob, rushing forward. "You're alive!" You jump into his arms, and he catches you, as he always does.

You sob into his shoulder, the one he wasn't holding, thankful to feel his heart pounding against his chest.

"Coure I'm alive," He chuckles, his hand rubbing up and down your back. "Ya think some stupid lackies can take me down?"

You pull back, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. More tears spill down your face, your hand cupping his face, your lips ghosting his.

"I thought I'd never see you again,"

"I'll never leave you,"

"Promise?"

"I promise, baby," He leans in, kissing you just as softly.

Donnie:

You're the first thing he notices.

"Y/n-" you both rush forward, leaping into each other's arms, your feet dangling off the ground.

"Donnie!" Tears spill down both of your faces, hands gripping and trying to find purchase around his shoulders.

With one hand Donnie unhooks his tools and weapons, the clatter to the floor, but he doesn't let you leave his arms.

"I didn't know if I'd ever see you again," You sob.

"I was too," He sighs. "There's something I have to tell you-"

You pull back, smashing your lips together. He wastes no time in kissing you back. Setting you down his hands tangle in your hair, titling your head up and back to meet his.

He pulls back for air, both your faces flushed.

"I love you," You both mumble at the same time, kissing again and again, long into the night.

Mikey:

"Anglecakes, what're you doing here?" His smile is tired, but his eyes shine seeing you.

"Ohmygod," You rush forward, his arms opening and pulling you tight to his chest.

"Ssshhhh, it's alright, anglecakes, I'm okay," His hands grab your thighs, hoisting you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.

"I was so worried," You sob.

"Yeah....I was too," mikeys voice cracks, his shoulder shaking as he presses his head into your neck. "But I'm okay, we're all okay, and-"

"I love you,"

Mikey pulls back, blue eyes wide, staring into your own. "What?"

"I love you, I have since the moment I met you and I wanted to tell you early. I don't want to just be your friend Mikey, I want-"

"I love you too,"

You both chuckle quietly, smashing your lips together again.

tags: @thelaundrybitch @m1dnyt3-w0lf @happymoonangel @eveandtheturtles @strawberrycakeblog @miss-andromeda @sketchy-loo6195 @leosgirl82 @sharpwindow @mysticboombox

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zoe-oneesama · 11 months

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I have notice that you are giving the kwamis different and more uniques personalities. How you imagened their unique emotions and how they react with the holders?

For sure, there are very few instances where the Zodiac Kwami get to show their individualism except for Sass or when they briefly interact with their new holders, so I really grabbed on to any little bit I could see and held tight.

Mullo - In the story of the Chinese Zodiac, the Rat rides the Ox and jumps off at the last minute in order to arrive first, so I thought it'd make sense for Mullo to be mischievous - also because Marinette uses it first for some cheeky misdirection. I got lucky that Mullo turned out to be a bit of a prankster when "Mega Leech" came out.

Stompp - As one of the Leftover 4, Stompp didn't get a lot of expression when they were shown in "PenalTeam", but I kinda ended up working with how calm they were. The way they addressed Chloe not knowing the kwamis names gave her a Disapproving Mother vibe, so I went with them being a nurturer. I picture them wanting to watch over their holder, particularly children ones, and watch them grow into full grown Oxes.

Roarr - So this one was easy cuz they've been very consistent in the show, and since the kwamis default to loud and bratty when they're in Mob Mode (ie, when all the kwamis act in sync instead of in line with their personalities), Roarr was simply a too rambunctious child. An extrovert to the extreme. Their name is very appropriate.

Fluff - This one is pretty established in canon, so I guess I'll just extend my headcanon. Fluff is easily confused and babbles a lot, and I think it's because they're being constantly bombarded with information from so many timelines. Existence is a prison and Fluff just comes across as dumb because all their brain power is overheating from a massive influx of information, so they have nothing else to offer in the Present.

Longg - "Ikari Gozen" makes them out to be a Long Winded Old Man/Woman (depending on the dub lol), but aside from them being pretty polite later, they don't hold on to it. I am. Longg is old as shit and just wants these damn kids to hear out their long ass stories, but they just don't know how to edit because it's been forever since they've been out of the box (a nod to how Dragons are now "mythical"). They don't know how to talk to the youngins anymore.

Sass - Okay, c'mon, we all know Sass. Sass is the only one we know definitively. They're the leader and being level headed and calm is the thing that distinguishes him from the rest. He is mildly cursed like Fluff to recall every remade time line, remembering what happened the other times that needed a second chance, but it's less of a burden than it is for Fluff.

Kaalki - I opted to lean in to her being a Diva, obviously thanks to her attitude in "Startrain". You'd think that'd clash with Max, so the struggle was more about making them work together despite that, so I also gave her a fascination with innovation. She's not very technologically literate, but she's interested in what humans have been able to do, especially when it comes to exploration. But in the end, she's still pretty vain lol.

Ziggy - since they were very upset at how mean Chloe was in "Miracle Queen" as opposed to angry like Stompp and Roarr, I felt Ziggy was probably younger and a bit sensitive. I also leaned into some goat traits, having them eat paper and headbutt Nathaniel.

Xuppu - Xuppu can easily become very annoying, especially in "Destruction" where they're trying to be helpful, but uhhhh...they aren't. So I just stuck with how they were portrayed in their canon debut episode. Like Roarr, Xuppu is very much like A Child, so even in Mob Mode they feel in character - getting into stuff and making a mess.

Orikko - I made them very patient, which you gotta be when your powers are bullshit and you constantly have to give a tutorial on how they work. They could talk all day with their holder trying to find loopholes.

Barkk - So they have two standout moments where they're allowed individuality - in "Furious Fu" and "Risk". In the former, they are stubbornly staying behind to guard the house and the Miracle Box, and in the latter, they're super excited at getting a new holder and getting to "play". So both a guard dog and a puppy. I met in the middle where they DO really want to play, but also want everyone to be as excited as them which takes a little coaxing. Like an Extrovery adopting Introverts.

Daizzi - They're just very sweet. Almost just like Rose but soft spoken. They feel very much but like to focus on the things they like, no matter how simple they are.

#sl kwamis

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 5 months

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I would love to see something with Garrick. I would die if a will read something fluff like cuddle or others

See... I have no self control when it comes to this man...

We're in this together

It was an unspoken rule that you always waited up for Garrick at the end of the day in your shared room. You weren't as high up the ranks to be involved in most of the rebellion meetings even if you were tightly knitted with your friends group. Of course, they filled you in afterward but that didn't earn you a chair in the meeting itself.

The past weeks had been hard and long. You barely got to see your boyfriend. You knew he slept next to you for most nights but it was either you or Garrick who would be forced to carefully shimmy out of bed without waking the other at the earliest crack of dawn. So to say that you have missed your partner would have been an understatement. Small lingering touches helped at first. But now a quick pack on the lips as he rushed to mount his dragon only made your heart ache more.

The door to your room cracked open softly, and something about the gentle action itself already made your heart beat faster. You lowered your book right as your boyfriend stepped inside. A light frown on his face as he realized that the light was still on. "You should be sleeping", he muttered as he closed the door behind him, reaching to undo his flying leathers. "I could say the same thing to you", your eyes scanned his visibly exhausted face. "I had an important debrief", Garrick grumbled under his breath and you only hummed at his response, "And I had an important task called - waiting for my boyfriend to come back". A corner of Garrick's mouth curved upwards as his eyes moved to you.

You who was all sprawled out in his childhood bed. In his shirt. In his smell. Garrick quickly pulled his shirt off before he made his way towards the bed. "Hey", you muttered, reaching your arms out to him. "Hi", he breathed as he kneeled on the mattress before almost all of his weight fell onto your body. You let out a breathy chuckle. But the familiar weight of him instantly soothed all the anxiety and worry that's been coursing through you for days.

Your hands instantly moved to softly scratch the back of his neck, as you kissed the top of his head over and over. Garrick's hand made quick work of slivering beneath the shit his shirt that you had on. Craving that warm and velvety feeling of your skin. Kneading your sides softly before settling around your body. You two weren't an openly affectionate couple. You both joked that Xaden and Violet eating each other's faces off was enough to traumatize the innocent souls around, you two didn't need to add to it. The story, however, was completely different behind closed doors.

"God, I missed the smell of you", Garrick breathed against your chest, nuzzling deeper into you. "I thought you weren't a fan of sweet scents", you huffed, twirling the ends of his hair. "I'm a fan of everything that involves you", he muttered lifting his head to look at you. You two were inches away. And yet you couldn't remember the last time you had seen him so close to you. You gently reached out to brush your fingers over the scar that ran across Garrick's face and he instantly leaned into your touch. Following the softness of your fingers. Like a black cat purring at the feeling of affection. He moved to kiss your palm before his hand cupped your face and he pulled your face closer to his.

The kiss was nothing but full of warmth and love. That painful sorrow lingered somewhere deep within but it was clear that you two simply needed the validation of still being here together. Your lips brushed together over and over again until you two both pulled apart breathlessly. Garrick left a couple of kisses alongside your neck before he settled back down to listen to your heartbeat.

"I wish I could hold you like this forever", he muttered but you knew that wasn't possible. And even if he was to grow as selfish like that and deny all of his responsibilities for a day, he would never forgive himself if because of a day of love, he would end up putting you in more danger. "You can hold me now and we might find a way to get more time together", you muttered. "If this is you trying to get me to let you come with me on raids, don't even think about it", and here it was the section leader's voice. Not your lover. A leader. "I could help and we...", you breathed, "Don't waste your breaths on it, I will never agree", Garrick muttered, turning you both over so you would lay on his chest now.

You let out a huff, "I want to help, you're working yourself to the bone", "I know my limits", he said dryly. You pushed away from him slightly, sitting up, "I...", your voice died down. Truthfully you've been so afraid for him. For all of them of course but for him especially. "I'm just so scared that one day you won't...", you shook your head, turning your face away from him but Garrick quickly pulled your chin back to face him. "We share that burden, love, because I too fear that I will be god knows where and you will be under attack and I will not be able to come back to you", he said quietly. Your eyes met and you quickly scrambled to wrap yourself around him, straddling his lap as you pushed closer into his broad chest. Garrick cupped the back of your neck as he hugged back just as tightly. "I love you", you breathed out, "I love you even more", Garrick said within a heartbeat, "We're in this together. We've got this".

#garrick tavis #garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis x you #garrick tavis fourth wing #garrick tavis iron flame #garrick fourth wing x reader #garrcik fourth wing x you #garrick iron flame

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dogs2shouldvote · 9 months

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during my latest relisten of taz balance, i recorded every line i found even the slightest bit funny with zero context, not even who said it (though some are pretty obvious). here’s all my favorites!!

“i’m probably studying.. my cantrips”

“just say mastrubating, dad”

“don’t come in mom i’m studying my canteips!!”

“yeah you’ll do any dumb shit”

“it’s like a bag of holding! but for.. ass.”

“do we know how much damage we did to him?”

“six damage, you said it out loud with your mouth.”

“it should be in the player’s handbook! get your salty snack to enjoy while you play dnd”

“my grandpa says it’s rude to whisper. especially on a train!”

“i’m not going to go toe to toe with a crab while youre armed with a terrible scottish accent and travis doesn’t even have his sheild. i’m out! … did i say travis? i mean leman kessler.”

“nope! that was wrong all the way around.”

“i’m cosplaying taako right now, as a stupid man.”

“who’s just rolling dice? who is doing secret checks that i don’t know about?”

“i always waste my 20’s on perception checks. like i give a shit.”

“it’s completely conceivable he would have a name tag.”

“IN A GANG?”

“like a pelt??? like a bramble*pelt*?????”

“is there a math check? what are you talking about?”

“yeah it’s your fucking brain. you use your brain to add numbers together”

“16”

“what are you fucking doing??”

“griffin i love you youre my brother. but if my skill called history doesn’t literally help me with history trivia questions in a category called history what are we FUCKING doing here??”

“can i ask you a question? are you guys mean to everyone?”

“fus-ro-over dere”

“that one was actually a badass bernie sanders”

“hey thug! what’s your name? i’m about to tentacle your dick.”

“a d6 is like some dice ass dice. that’s some monopoly shit.”

“i thought you were saying merle, it’s his bread and his body, take 2d6 healing points”

“you two remind me of something… you remind me of the babe! and then i throw the glass sphere at them.”

“make a constitution saving throw to see if you can eat this fucking rock with your mouth.”

“dungeons and dragons is a. great game.”

“my name is magnus burnsides”

“marchins burchens”

“magnus would not say that. however, travis would.”

“can we please not talk about chekhov’s bush?”

“we’ve got a ball, a sack, and a tool!”

“everything is gross here in dnd.”

“only losers smoke, isaac.”

“i give isaac an hour long lecture about the dangers of smoking.”

“i’m just gonna put my mouth down there and go buck wild”

“there’s a lot of go cart tracks called the adventure zone and i’ve been working with my lawyer to shut them all down forever”

“does taako fish?”

“yeah taako fishes.”

“a rock hard-“

*justin, clint, and travis laugh*

“come ON, *really*?”

“taako rushes in!”

“what! magnus follows him.”

“merle’s good out here!”

“WHAT is going on?”

“how do you not have a d6 it comes with every board game”

“my daughter-“

“eats them for power???”

“uhhh how much health do you have.”

“im not gonna tell you.”

“let’s see… i am going to hurt jenkins. with a magical spell.”

“this is about to become the taako show starring taako.”

“BLUFF FUCKING BLUFF O’CLOCK?? WHAT IS THIS, HALF PAST PERSUASION TIME??”

“i’m not laughing in game” *justin fucking loses it*

“she’s the best at burning shit ever.”

“traaav griffin got to do his show for so long and now he’s gonna destroy yours.”

“fucking lup finds like. a gun.”

“for sure, keep it sleazy. we’re out, bye!”

“i have to believe…. i’m gonna get those fifteen dollars back from greg fucking grimaldis”

“based on the rules of the game, dad… you die.”

“dad’s making a jerk off motion at me”

“don’t play the pennywise card like you ALWAYS try to”

“should i talk slower so that everybody who has been complaining about us not playing dnd has time to nut?”

“i am a wizard. my name is taako. and i am pretty well fucked.”

“yeah i’ve got cumin who do you think i am?”

“hear that, babe? we’re *legends*”

“i’m clint mcelroy and i played merle hightower-“

“nope”

#i actually have a ton more #taz balance #taz balance spoilers #kinda #the adventure zone balance #mcelroys #taz #the adventure zone #mcelroy brothers #taako taaco #merle highchurch #magnus burnsides

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thescottpack · 6 months

Text

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!reader x Cregan Stark

Warning: targcest, romance, angst

summary: Aemond and reader know each other since birth and one day they were in love and in the other they felt betrayed.

Its been a long time since you seen Aemond, as a family people expect that having a royal blood and be part of a royal family means that you are close to those around you, as they all say " you have to keep the bloodline pure as a Targaryen". But it was all horse shit, at these stage of the existence every single person knew how vile the Targaryens can be and it didn't matter if you share the same blood, enemi was enemi.

You were thinking about this while riding Cannibal to a open field. From the sky it was possible to see that everthing was burned and it was only ashes now, there was no trees, no animals not a single life exept that large dragon on the ground and his owner close to it, Vhagar.

You land your dragon a bit far away from Aemond's dragon, you knew how things cold get pretty ugly really fast.

"You came, I have to be honest I didn't think you would show up."

Aemond was taking a few steps in your direction while you met him in between the two dragons.

"You ask for me and here I am."

"I miss you, everyday."

You sigh.

"Aemond..."

He took another step.

"I think about you everyday."

And another step.

"All day long."

When he was finale face to face, you looked away ashame of your feelings for him. He took so much from you and you still can't stop loving him.Aemond put a finger on your chin and made you look in his eye again while bringing his lips closer and closer to yours.

"Please Aemond don't do this to me."

He land a kiss on the corner of your lips, soft and gente.

"I'm not doing anything darling."

"This is wrong and I can't."

And another kiss on the other side.

"There is nothing wrong in this." Then he gave a peck on your lips. "There's nothing wrong about you and me." He put hes hands on your hips bringing your body closer to his, it was like he put you in some trance. "And it will never be."

Finally kissing you with passion his tongue entered your mouth and explored every single part of It. Your body molded into his while he was holding you close like he was afraid you would runway. When you stopped the kiss Aemond put his forehead on yours.

"Come back with me. You and I can end this war together. With all dragons and the power Aegon have we can..."

Shaking your head you gain your senses again. He was asking you to join Aegon's side.

"I won't betray my mother and you know it." You said giving a step back and making he let you go from his hands.

"My love you would be saving her, if you came with me I'll make sure you are safe, more safe than anyone in the entire realm."

"I won't accept this.I won't accept Aegon as king Aemond this is madness and you know it."

"Don't think about his stupid ass right now, think about me and you we can be together again like when we were young. I love you and I know you love me."

"And what about your wife, hum? Are you just gonna leave her for me? Is that it? I will never bow to your cunt of a bother."

"Listen! You are not helping me here love you got marry too remeber? Don't blame me for something that you did too."

"How can you say something like this? When YOU were the one who got marry first! When I found out I was so angry at you and so sad, you promessed to be with me forever and then you went behind my back and got marry anyway!"

You were not beliving in what he was saying, your face expression changes into a angry mode and you could hear the sound of a few horses coming closer to your direction. Aemond looked in the distant and saw a small group off man. One of those man spoke something to the group making the others stop. When you looked over your sholders you could see who was it, your husband Lord Cregon Stark. Aemond shifted his posture when he saw one of his enemies.

"Does he follow you around now?"

He was jealous and got even angrier when he saw how Cannibal act around Cregan, like he knew he was family. In Aemond's head this was pure bullshit. Oh how he wish the dragon would just end that man's life. Vaghar was sensing Aemond's feelings and started to get agitated and when Cregan gave one more step closer to you and Aemond she left a roar.

You looked back at Cregan " It's alright husband, me and my uncle are just trying to get into a deal but it seams that we can't get into a agreement."

You turn your back to Aemond and started to walk in Cregan's direction when you heard.

" Don't you dare turn your back to me!" Aemound shouted."You are mine!"

Turnin to face Aemond again you spoke " You turn your back to me first, when you killed my little brother remember?! I have asked you so many times to leave all that shit behind and for you to come with me that evething would be forgiven but you refused and you still do! I am done with your games uncle, the next time I see you me and Cannibal we won't be so friendly."

Turning you back to Aemond again you went to Cregan's direction and put a hand on his chest.

"Are you all my sweet?" he asked.

"Evething it's alright my dear husband, theres no need to worry. I will be leaving now and I suggest you do the same and when you come back to the camp I'll be right there waiting for you."

When you decide to leave your husband pulled you back to him and gave you a kiss. Aemond was furious and he wasn't hiding his anger, Vaghar let another roar in you direction and then Cannibal became aggitated as well. You went to you dragon and tried to calm him down.

"Cannibal daor. Sagon gīda, rȳbagon naejot issa issa zaldrīzes." (Cannibal no.Be calm listen to me my dragon.)

When you get on top of you dragon you told Cregan to leave and before he went away he looked back at Aemond one more time while Aemond stood on the same spot you left him. He watched you leave on Cannibal and he knew he you were his right? He couldn't have lost you...right?

#hotd fanfic #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #cregan x reader

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howyouloveyourdragon · 1 year

Text

Remnants

pronouns: she/her warnings: smut, use of the word ‘whore’, angst, disease, character death, fluff, infidelity, slowburn, classism at first (daemon is a shit) summary: They say that you never forget your first love but the vultures are prey to weakness and intend to infiltrate Daemon’s own desires to preserve his adere riñus (slippery girl). Some say the woman will forever remain in his conscience, guiding his bloodied sword and singing sweet lost lullabies to lay his rest. For it has been too long since the volatile dragon slept peaceful. A prince with more gold than he can keep. A prince who can demand whatever he wishes and command any army. And yet all he is left with…All he is left with are the remnants of her which he swore to cherish as religiously as he would an idol. A/N: reader has dark hair for a plot point to work but i think you can still ignore it if you want to :) dividers by: firefly-graphics wordcount: 6,797

There is nothing like a sunset that is more comforting to him and yet his comfort is limited. How he stares at the strewn stars like figments of grace and kind. How he stares each as though in the eye and recounts sonnets as they emit. How he begs and pleads for the Gods to last the warmth of sunlight just a little longer each time. And each time it fades. Each time his eyes grasp any trace of her to sew back into his mind after it has been torn from him with viscous delight. He should have known. The Gods do not listen to begging. Not even from Crown Princes. No matter how many bottles he shatters in the heat of his dreams. He likes to think that their love was red and as flowing as his ever-heating dragon’s blood. A Syrax in its own right. But there was no Goddess of ecstasy blessing them. No. It was a curse of bluebells and belonging to that of Gaelithox, surely to punish him for his foolishness. He looks up at the sky. The dark array of black and blue. Of silver specks and promising folds of purple. There is nothing like a sunrise better to send the Rogue Prince into a spiel of decay and sickness. The absurd golden bonds squeezing out another day like an artist with their last inch of oils. The crawling brightness that comes to threaten the moon. Abysmal lies sung to him as his brother attempts to push him into seeing beauty in all that inductees his churning stomach.

He wills the flowers to wither.

It was under the rising sun that Daemon had stumbled and forced his way out of the obnoxious hooting Street of Silk. Perhaps he had been desiring only ale or the rancid smell of sweat to intoxicate him. At just two and twenty, he had been visiting the volatile heap of taverns and brothels for the past eight years. It was religious in his dark desires. For dragons did not obey the whims of men and Daemon did not obey the whims of his brother nor father. And certainly not the whims of his wife. His nose turns up at the thought. Marriage would not contain him like they desired and yet still, he receives the constant demands to visit her. Of course he only intends to sink them in water until soft enough to shred, rejecting their presence all together. It would be easier to burn them but he does not think them worthy of his flame. His begrudging circle had even begun threatening to hail her to the Red Keep. To keep her in his presence all torturous times of the day. He knows his mother wouldn’t have let this happen, surely. Never would she sell him like prize cattle just to tame him. He is a dragon does not fuck plain featured sheep, he burns them but he would not devour them like his brother wished. His tastes were precise and he would not settle. He is a prince. He deserves nothing less than a woman matching his silver strands. Which is what he thinks of as he stumbles through the dark night struck streets, hopefully back to the castle gates at least. He despised people seeing him in such a state but he could usually hold his liquor better than tonight. And he assures himself that all will be well…until his cloak catches on a hook and he crashes to the floor in a surge of red blurred vision.

He blinks awake the next morrow with a pounding headache the size of Caraxes. A wince cracks at his muscles. Daemon grunts, a rough sting along his left cheekbone. A blur of dark hair and feminine presence has him assuming he had fallen asleep in the whorehouse again but instead his eyes flit across the plain room, brows pinching at the plain room. It is unfamiliar, he realises. His lips part in time for a resounding click of the unknown woman's fingers to snap him into alert. Anger swells in his chest but his limbs are weakened with exhaustion and ale. His sharp eyes choose to narrow instead as quickly as she takes a step. His brain swishes with questions. Where is he, why is he here and most importantly, who is this already insufferable cunt of a peasant? "You." He sneers, clicking his own fingers but she ignores him, returning to a small room he presumes to be a...kitchen? It is small and brown and littered with pans, some empty, some filled. "Tell me, who are you?" It is a demand. They both know it is a demand and yet it goes ignored. Rage firms his brittle state. "Answer your prince!" He stands on slightly shaky legs, uncaring to his indecent layer of clothing, or rather, lack of. His tunic...Where is his tunic? It isn't panic that raises the bile but it is discomfort. The odd woman merely chuckles at him. Anger flares once more. Daemon's swift hand snaps to his scabbard only to find it empty. "Relax, your highness," He doesn't like the mocking lilt seeping from her untrustworthy tongue. "it will be returned to you, I merely made certain you would not awaken with a missing appendage." His face scowls petulantly at her and he takes a step forward.

Daemon builds up his broad shoulders to square though he is not entirely a man full-grown yet and his boyish features attempt to harden. Intimidation is a powerful tool he knows. "You will hand me my possessions and I will take leave far from your slums or I will–" She spins around, facing him not with fear or mal-intent but with curiosity. Her sly smirk is the first thing he notices alongside her narrowed fox-like eyes. “Or what?” She returns, impishly .His mouth hangs. She had been washing one of her thick pans but now she has tucked the pathetic wet towel into her small apron and folds her arms. The pan is left forgotten on the side after a loud clang. She raises her brows. “Or what, your highness?” She repeats as though he is nothing more than the village idiot or town fool. Begrudgingly he has never felt more like a child, not even after marrying the bronze bitch. Daemon’s mouth moves but nothing comes out. She snorts. “Will you harm a sweet village girl? Add blood to your taxes? Ah, apologies, my lord, you are no foe of such demands, you are the taker.” The snide doesn’t pass him. “No girl is of worth to a Dragon.” He says, finally regaining composure. She doesn’t cower, she sneers. “In that we can agree.” Her voice, once mellifluous and playful, now turns cold. “Except the ones fucking dragons and I assure you, I have no intentions.” He swallows, noticing just how close they have approached once the hit of warm breath fans over his mouth which towers just above her. He ignores when his eyes flicker to her wet lips. How can a peasant look so nourished?

Daemon may ignore it but the peasant does not, her lips slowly curling upward smugly. She hums as she takes in his dilated pupils now wielding more than just rage. Slowly, her calloused hand begins to dip into her apron pocket. In a flash, his palm snatches her wrist and rips it out of reach. She blinks, slightly disoriented, but then raises her brows comically. “Do you not wish me to return your sword, my lord?” She lilts, Daemon’s face softens. “I am your prince, not your lord.” He snarls. Again, her sickening chuckles lift in the stale air. “You are an ingrate that we are all in service to, my prince. Do you wish for your dagger or not?” He hesitates. Who is to determine that she is not attempting to fool him? That she will not snipe his weapon and slice it through his throat; would she leave him bleeding on her floor or scatter him amongst the mongrels of flea bottom? Daemon casts his eyes at her apron. She sighs, allowing his thick fingers to swipe through the various utensils stashed away. The prince grunts when he makes contact with a blade, groaning behind his taut lips. He slides it out once he finds the hilt and dances it between his fingers like a peacock presents its feathers. A smirk twitches.

The peasant girl sighs, unamused as he watches the shining steel. “Do you intend to frolic through the streets and freeze?” She asks with a thin layer of mocking. His eyes narrow on the blade. “No,” He articulates in a frozen phrase. “You will lead me to the garments you have stolen from me and in return I shall allow your pitiful life to remain.” It isn’t a chuckle that escapes her this time but instead a snort. His nose wrinkles at the unabashed noise. “Will I?” She returns, biting the inside of her cheek. Daemon lets a glower settle, breath heaving at the disrespect. He clenches his jaw. “You will or you will taste your own blood.” Daemon spouts the words, attempting to poison her flesh, he can already imagine the boils that would litter her soft skin. The peasant merely winks. “It wouldn’t be for the first time but I am afraid that it would be in your best interests that you stay a moment more.” She sighs as though the fact physically pains her. A hand sneaks behind her back, which connects against the rough counter edge, and produces a small wooden bowl, heat emitting in steam from the top. “Would you not prefer to break your fast before you leave? A weak prince is not a wise one.”

He leans down, sneering. “I am not weak.” She leans up at him and tilts her head. “Then how do you know I was talking about you?” She pushes the strange broth to his chest and slips past him once his confusion lessens his hold on her other wrist. His head snaps to face her figure again. “You are an insinuating little tart.” Daemon comments but much less interrogative than before. He eyes the broth cautiously as he takes a seat at her short stocky table. His legs plead for freedom under the trapment. He ignores them. The girl glances him over and he can feel the scrutiny piercing his skin, ready to seep inside. Begrudgingly, the heir seats himself at the small table of her home and huffs like a petulant child. The threat of judgement crawls like an insect over his tense muscles, it feels like twenty-thousand little cockroaches are bumping one another from the inside of his skin. It begs to clamber into the strange peasant instead, what does a peasant fair against a prince? She must know that it would be further than a sin to place judgement on a Targaryen prince while she is nothing more than a lowly film of dirt atop his shoe; filth he is desperately trying to scrape off until his hands are raw and bloody.

His eyes take this moment to rake over and through her as she stumbles around the much too small hobble. Her hair reminds him of toiled waves, crashing messily and unkempt–even though it is tied up–against the harsh wind sneaking through her window. Her apron is dirtied and there is flour on her face. She looks every inch the commoner he despises. Because she thinks she’s better than him, he’s sure, he can see it in her smugness, her eagerness to keep him dependent on her already. She has a vile brown dress beneath it, his skin itches just looking at the rough worn-in cloth. The prince’s eyes trail to her bare feet, he winces but attempts to ignore it, glancing over the muddy wet end to the dress. He lets a sigh release and shakes his head, inspecting the rest of the abode. Just looking at her made him long to cleanse himself. Daemon’s nose turns up at the sight of a myriad of blue wilting flowers in the corner, well he supposes to her it is reminiscent of a myriad. Her. Why is it her mind, her thoughts, that he wants to explore like the depths of the great sea he has always been kept from? Then his eye catches on the deep red cloth that drapes along a lone wooden chair. His eyes narrow. Is it stolen? She doesn’t look as though she could afford such vibrancy. Or perhaps she is a whore and it was gifted by a client. That must be it. She’s a whore. Daemon clicks his tongue and looks down at the half-eaten broth. He stirs at the odd liquid, raising the too large spoon and pouring the broth back in the bowl before dipping it back in again. It takes all his willpower to stuff it into his cheeks and let it play on his tongue.

He swishes it across his taste buds. Daemon wants it to be foul, he wants it to reek of vomit-inducing grossness. It is a childish word but he is running out of insults. His hope also falls flat because for some reason it tastes good. It tastes better than any soup the high paid cooks have ever offered him, it tastes almost better than any rich meal he’s consumed. His eyes narrow. Is she a witch? Is this set to bewitch him or send him into sleep? No, it makes him feel much too energised. Then is it to gain his favour? Constituted to trick his submission? She will not achieve it, he refuses. He finishes the lukewarm meal while taking his time. He watches her hum and shimmy about the room, searching for something he does not know. He scans her curiously. “My garments.” He states in demand, standing and approaching her swiftly. She doesn’t react, doesn’t even stop humming. She moves about a few thick books, all handwritten and all with olden pages–yellow with use.

His fist rests sideways against the presumably oak bookcase so he can lean over her, forearm following suit. He wants it to reflect dominance but instead it twists his gut and warms his lower stomach. “You have something that belongs to me,” Daemon purrs. His eyes narrow. His free palm outstretches. “I want it back.” “I have more than one thing, milord.” The snark drips from her tongue with charisma he loathes. His jaw clenches at the forced display. “Then return them and I shall return this.” Her eyes snap up to him and frown at the sealed letter in his grasp. Daemon can see as the panic swells and tenses her muscles, he can see as she takes in an inhale sharper than Dark Sister, he can see as her eyes widen because Daemon is not merely a swordsman and soon-warrior; Daemon Targaryen is also an observer. The peasant girl swallows. “Very well.” She chokes out and he finds himself surprised to have won this game of cat and mouse. Of dragon and sheep. Almost disappointed. The prince nods and steps back but as she prepares to swipe it from his hands and pulls it back with a visibly pensive expression. “I will give it to you once you return my possessions.” Eyes meet and again, his gut twists. She tilts her head, guard seemingly lowered. “How curious,” She breathes out. Daemon’s brows knit. “What?” He questions. “You said possessions not belongings. Most would use the latter.”

When he eventually does return to the castle, fully clothed and prepared to sleep off the remainder of his disturbed night, He keeps a firm stance and intends to forget the strange day so far but his mind circles the events like a fly. Daemon growls as he shrugs off his shirt to replace it with one of pure white and tosses the prior into a drawer. He roughly grasps a red doublet in his hands and tugs it over. His breath comes out in grunts and curses until he is redressed. It is the same shade as the peasant girl’s cloth, of course it is. It was his favourite until today and now childishly, it feels tainted by the resurging memories of humiliation being sewn inside. His nose scrunches up, a grotesque taste rubbing against his tongue as he recalls one incident in particular. The prince, a man to be respected, can visualise as he was shoved to a thin mattress and tossed up the mix of bile and sickness from his stomach. All. Over. Her. Floorboards. Daemon winces and shakes his head, trying to shake the memory into the deepest depths of his subconscious, never to be seen again. He sighs and turns around, pausing when a slight fluttering falls as soft as a petal from his trouser. He frowns and peers down at the paper. There sits a thin parchment, not unlike the letter he had returned to the peasant girl. This one however is in cursive words much more eloquent than the past one and written in a phrasing he’s unsure of. He looks at the wax seal this time. It’s blue and the paper around it is curled. Daemon glances over the creases. Perhaps his business is not yet forgoing.

A moon passes before he finally returns through the winding streets, trying to recall the pattern in which he returned home, backward. Daemon finds himself humming a tune to which he should not be familiar with but it is the only thing that consumes his mind as he passes through the Street of Flour. Finally, he reaches a small doorway and raps at it. No one answers to which he sighs and takes a step back, peeking through the opening of his hooded cloak at the abundance of civilians. Daemon’s eyes dart amidst the unknown area and his feet follow, investigating a series of yells and glances one last time at the door. The street is in uneven bumps and the people there are clumped together as they holler and whistle. Daemon halts his tune and uses his substantial height to attempt to see over the large mass of bodies. He can barely make out the sight of steam and two large wooden stands. The hollers burst through his ears like pellets of rain, forceful and punishing as a storm.

Then a familiar voice is raised above the others, a mock resounding in his ears but with the playfulness and wit of a friend. His violet eyes snap up to find the woman haunting him. She’s laughing raucously, obnoxious and loud. Daemon’s lips slightly twitch at the teeth she bares. Again, his gut stirs. The heat becomes smothering but that doesn't stop him in his pursuit in finding the peasant girl who he now sees tossing around a pan filled with water and meat. From the brief glances he can snatch up, she’s almost finished while a man beside her is kneading a similar meat lined in fresh pink. Daemon pulls his lips taut, tensing as he watches the show. His little peasant seems to be enjoying herself. Witch, he thinks briefly but she doesn’t look like a witch and nor does she particularly sound like one. Are witches not supposed to be tantalising and hibernate an illusion of raw sex? Of primal appeal to tempt him? She doesn’t appear to be trying very hard. The flour is gone from her face now, he notes, but in its place lays a curved slice, colour as deep as that of Dornish wine. If she is a witch, would she not surely cover it? The hiss of her heated pan hisses throughout the street and Daemon finds himself surprised that no one has stolen from the small bag of coins in the centre.

A cacophony of enjoyment and not one has a trail of bitterness. He watches as the girl glides a hand around her neck to push back the hair escaping its tight wrap atop her head. Only joy amongst the miserable. Perhaps that should worry him but he is too enthralled in the display. The woman’s hair is tied high again but much clearer than the moon prior–the day he last saw her. She is still wearing the same rags but this time that revolting red cloth is wrapped around her shoulders like a shaul. Not a whore either then. A whore would not be parading her squeals for free and nor would she wish to wear rags when surely many men had solicited them. So she is not a witch and not a whore and yet he finds himself stalking after her presence like an injured pup. Daemon growls at the very thought. He is a prince. How many times must he remind himself? Princes do not chase after strange peasant girls. The scolding floats through the wind when the peasant girl cheers and hurls the pan down on the wooden market stand. Her opponent groans half-heartedly, grinning like a mad man as he stretches out his arms and embraces the girl, one rough large hand resting to cup the back of her head and his other reaching to slap her back like Daemon has seen other knights behave. But this is not a knight, this is a peasant. The fact twitches his nose in distaste. But so is she. A voice whispers in his ear, he swats it away, watching as the surrounding peasants cheer.

Daemon watches as the children let their little hands grasp the food and jump in bubbles of excitement. If he had a warmer heart, he may have found the sight sweet. But he does not, he has a mission to complete. He approaches the peasant girl with sly steps but she has already noticed him, how, he does not know. He steps behind her and opens his mouth but she beats him to it. “My prince,” She speaks with a burning smugness he doesn’t have to look at to be aware of. Against his better judgement, a sly smirk spreads across his pale lips. “You remembered.” He quips to which she hums in approval and folds her arms over her chest. “Unfortunately I did.” Daemon shifts in intrigue. He hesitates for the first sun of his existence. “I almost thought you wouldn’t bring it back.” She comments, amusement slipping in between her teeth. A snicker passes his mouth, a mouth rarely barred. “I had not imagined you would need use of such a thing left so easily misplaced.” Daemon’s hot words burrow through her ear, as determined as their wielder. She turns her head, baring her soft neck and piercing eyes to look up into his. The heir’s breath hitches.

“I misplaced nothing, my prince.” The peasant purrs boldly. The intimacy of a whisper drips from her like an aphrodisiac. Daemon grins. “Is it my name or merely my title that you know of?” He chuckles, a confident hand reaching wind at her waist. Her own hand cups it. “Of course, my Prince Daemon Targaryen.” He swallows and a shuddered chill draws down his back. “Might you tell your prince your own for adequate compensation?” She leans a little closer, only a breath apart and fanning across his twitching lips. She interrupts his thoughts by slapping his hand enough to stun him. “I shall not.” With him vulnerable, she twists away from him with cautious grace. “I like to leave my men wanting.” She calls with a growing impish grin. He surprises himself by returning the gesture, straightening his back as he does so and raising his brows. “And I am one of your men then?” He retorts easily and watches her sashay apart from him. Before she is too far, he pats down to find the letter in his pocket but already knows it has been swiped. Instead of berating his own foolishness, he smirks at the smart, slippery girl and steps away, sure to see her more in the growing time.

As the moons pass and his brother grows increasingly irate with him, Daemon Targaryen sneaks away into the night. He ignores the hailings of his Lady Bronze and replaces her calls with the sweet melodies his newfound companion intoxicates him with. The soothing lilt of her lullabies and the calm braids she strews across his hair. Daemon stands, now a man of 27 years, at her side. Y/n, she had told him. Her name was Y/n. She was of no surname and no wealth but she was beautiful and kind. She was fresh and witty and every inch the insinuating tart she had been the night they met. Her fingers stroke through his tangled mane with a snort before landing her hands, rough with work, on his shoulders. He leans back and flutters his eyes shut. With all the bread she has kneaded, this is not the first time he longs for her embrace. He hums in swift pleasure, reaching up to coil his fingers with hers. “How is sweet Rhaenyra?” Y/n asks, voice ripe with interest and honey as always…Only this time, there is something burrowed beneath, he can feel it. He can feel it better than he can sense Caraxes’ heartbeat. “She is well…Almost full grown already.” Daemon responds, his fingers lingering as they caress Y/n’s hand. Why does it feel so much frailer than it did before? “Are you hiding something from me? Are you aware that it is a crime to lie to your prince,” The joke falls flat as she leans forward and shakes her head, arms stretching across her lover’s chest. She doesn’t speak and he doesn’t pry but they are both aware of the deep mulberry bags beneath her eyes.

But Daemon has always been a man of actions and impulses and so, he lets instincts take over, leaning back his head to look at her. His hands both reach up to cup her face and descend it toward him with gentle prompt. “I brought something for you,” He breathes, twirling a strand of her hair around his fingertips. She tilts her head and tightens her lips. “Whatever for?” He lets a mischievous grin twist his mouth and stands, settling Y/n down in the chair instead. Daemon cups her cold hands in his warm ones and folds them in her lap. “Close your eyes.” She does so begrudgingly but she is long past arguing with him when he’s in his moods. She chuckles. “You told you there was nothing you required for your namesday and while I respect–” She interrupts him, groaning with amusement. “Because it is not a namesday, I will never know my namesday,” She chuckles but her tickling throat gives her away, choking the words out of her dry throat. Daemon hums lowly. “But it is the day that you were given shelter.” She rolls her eyes at the quip. “That place was hardly a shelter.” He leans down to kiss wetly along her jaw and up to her earlobe. “And yet it brought you to me, kept you safe and waiting.” She snorts and raises her brows, a pointed expression inching over her. “I was hardly waiting.” He chuckles this time and kisses up the column of her throat. As she begins to breathe out gentle moans, he takes her distracted presence to skillfully thread his hand over hers, sliding cold steel onto her finger. She gasps and flutters her eyes open to see his cocky smirk. “Well?” He asks and kisses the finger. He licks his lips and lets a shaky breath flow through him.

Y/n regains composure and stares at the ‘something’ he had brought her. She brings it to just in front of her sights and swallows. “Is-Is it…?” “Yes,” He whispers and looks at the carefully crafted jewellery too. “I want you to have a part of me, always. And in return…” He pauses and turns the ring around her finger slowly to reveal a carved dragon, its wings spread for flight. “I want all of you.” He slowly kneels in front of her. “I want you to marry me.” It’s instantaneous that her mouth parts and her eyes widen. “Daemon…” “That woman is not my wife.” He states coldly before warming at the sight of her softening brows. “You are my wife in body, in soul and I want so in law too.” He takes in a breath. “Please, do not this deny of me. “I told you I would give you everything and I intend to. “Your brother will never approve of it.” A growl ripples through his mouth. “I do not care, he has tried to be my dictator since we were children and now I am a man grown, I should be allowed to choose my own wife. To let her choose me. He has not yet had an heir, let me take you to Dragonstone.” He leans closer until only a single breath can part them. “Let me make you my wife in the ways of my ancestors.” Silence cups them in a bubble, so easily popped. Too easily popped…and yet, she turns the ring, roaming the dotted rubies that form the dragon’s eyes and in slow movement, she stares into violet irises as she kisses the dragon’s head. “Yes.” She whispers. “I will be your wife.”

He doesn’t take a moment more to grasp the sides of her face and kiss fervently at her soft pliant lips. She returns the force in tandem as the sun sets behind them. The golden rays darken in a way only the most beautiful of moments could demand. Daemon’s hand drops to scrunch at the material at her thigh, at the skirts of her dress. It is in moments that both his hands reach to pop and tear at the incriminating fabric, ripping away her bodice until he can paw at his prize like an animal starved. Her teeth sink into his lip and the wet resounding noises surface upon their lips. His breath grunts as hers quickens in high pitched desperation. Her own hands slash roughly at his doublet, shoving it away from him like a criminal. His hips grind against her in hard strokes, desperately trailing his kisses down her neck while she clutches and pulls at his long silver hair. A high moan tears from her mouth as he sucks his marks into her, the need for possession clawing at his veins. Her pearl throbs as she twists to plunge him onto the floor. She straddles his thighs and wraps her arms around his neck and pushes his face against her neck again. He growls and snaps off her smallclothes. “When we met,” He groans, eyes fluttering back. “I thought you were a whore.” A breathy cackle drips from her animalistic mouth. “I’m starting to rethink denouncing that. You are much, ah, much too talented to be a baker.” He moans and burrows his head into the pillows of her breasts, lips wrapping to suction once more, to claim. “And you,” She interrupts herself to moan, tossing her head back. “Are much too unkempt to be a prince.” He bucks his hips. “Tell me,” A shriek breaks as he tugs roughly at the pelvis of his own trousers, desperately trying to be rid of the material. “Tell me you’re mine, Rogue Prince of the Seven Kingdoms.” A gasp drips from his tongue while he finally gets a grip of his fabrics. He tosses her to lie on the floor, her back pressed against the wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” He babbles like a hormonal desperate teenager. With thick hands grapple his own trousers and tears them off with haste. “All yours, only yours.”

He throbs as he kisses down her body, planting wet marks as violet as his eyes and crimson as his blood. He props up her right leg to drape over his shoulder and sucks at her thigh. His tongue probes at the flesh. His palms squeeze at her thighs as he slowly dips down between them and worships her mound in deep licks, drinking in the slick. He wants to drain it into a flask and carry it in his satchel. He wants to carry her around to sip from at any moment. He could die happily between her legs. Daemon Targaryen does not need wine or whore because she is his sin and he will anger the Gods happily if he can keep this temptress at his side. He pulls back to fan his breath along her throbbing cunny. Such a sweet filthy little thing, he thinks to himself, blowing down on it and revelling in her small jolt. His tongue drops to play with the bundled pearl, rolling it over the muscle and sending vibration as reward for every little moan that she lets pass. Her hands reach down and tug at his hair. “You should not have tempted me, adere riñus,” (slippery girl) His dark eyes level to meet hers. “I told you I want all of you and I intend to take it.” With an animalistic grin, his mouth descends once more to lap at her. Her back arches, grinding into him impatiently. “Be careful,” The woman pants. “Or I may start suspecting you to be a whore yourself.” He growls as she smirks and pushes up her body, slamming a forearm by her head and stretching her leg. She winces for a moment but recovers as his fingers replace his tongue. “A private whore then.” He speaks, removing his hand from her bud to palm at his length. “For a have already told you,” He grunts, chasing her mewls as he plunges into her entrance. “I am yours.” And so he pushes deeper, pushing roughly and lets his sweat pound into her flesh until they absorb one another.

Months have passed. He knows they have but he doesn’t feel it. All he can do is fight and slay and watch as men burn and bleed. So long it has been since he last saw his true wife, since he last kissed her lips. A comment in passing has devoured his entire mind. A half-hearted promise that he has clung to now is visible but only in part. He wants it now more than he has ever wanted anything. “Yes, well, you may marry her if the Stepstones are ever retaken.” A King will be true to his word and his brother has never proved untrustworthy but the phrase was meant in jest, he knows. However, Daemon Targaryen, Rogue Prince and man of twenty-eight years, will let himself be damned before he rejects the prospect. He will make his wifey his own if it is the very last thing he does. He has returned to his brother, a crown of bone within his grasp and presented it to him with but one request. He shall take his own wife and he shall take her at court for all to see. Before every lord, lady or royal proudly. For the first time, it isn’t frustration or malice in his brother’s gaze in response to his boldness. It is gentle and merciful. Because that is what it feels like to be gifted the honour of his adere riñus. It is mercy, it is a blessing, it is his salvation. It is the rise of his sun and the fall of his stars because he only needs one. He only needs one shining star to keep his moon afloat and begging.

Finally he can return home to her with more than a title and unfair vows. He can return with a heart full. Daemon’s hand twists at the wooden door he has slipped past so many times before but he freezes at the sight. An array of mess greets him and horror balls in his throat to gag him. His eyes snap at every corner, panic rising like the flow of sharp wind. His feet travel through the cluttered space, wariness biting at him but then he sees blood splatter on a cloth. It is as crimson as the shirt beneath his tunic and that alone makes him scream for her. Her name resounds through the open space and his legs run swiftly to the only other room there, the one where he had professed his devotion to her until the words bled out. He bursts the door open with the force of ten thousand men, the hinges yelling at him. He settles his sights on his weak love. She is shivering. With widened eyes and swiftly snaps to her side in one breath and kneels there, clutching her hands. “What is wrong, my love, who has hurt you?” The words are loud, demanding and cold. She almost doesn't respond and his heart stops. “I am well, husband.” She calls him such…She calls him such without even knowing the good news, the news he had only dreamed of whispering into your ear but not like this. Never like this. “My love, you are not.” Daemon chastises and fumbles with her bedsheets. He reaches to cup her cheek. “My love what has happened, has someone thieved you, please tell me what has happened.” She merely shakes her head. “I,” She coughs into her hand, rich thick blood dripping from it like a cursed potion. His face hardens but he lets her finish, lets the quiet remain. She’s trembling like a little lamb. “You knew that I was in an…unseemly state when you left. I am glad to have you return to me.” She has never spoken so proper, so rehearsed to him before. How long had he been blind? “I am taking you to a healer.” He snaps instantly and stands. She winces. “No,” She begs weakly. He shakes his head. “No, please, I do not wish for you to see me in this state.” “Shame is not for this time!” He yells. “I return home to my wife sickly and bedridden and you expect me to not alert a maester? Nonsense, you are coming willfully or I will make you.”

The nights are cold and they pass without progress as he lays by her side at all hours. Her eyes stare up at the ceiling. “It is in the sky that you are free,” She utters. “Caraxes will be missing you.” Daemon shakes his head and glides a hand up her waist. “And if I should fly him then I shall be missing you.” “He is an animal as wild as you, my love,” She berates with the softness of an angel. “And he will wait.” “And for how long? Until I am old in my grave.” “Do not say such things!” Daemon chastises. “It is mere truth, husband.” She sighs and curls his hair in her fingers. “He needs flight and so do you.” He doesn’t respond, his petulance growing.”I am not getting better.” She wags a finger in his face when he tries to argue. “I will continue not to but if you do this justice for me then I will grant you an army of love.” The mischief still holds on her tongue after all this time. The gentle mocking of his salvation and he smiles. He smiles as water pricks his eyes. He can’t speak. He won’t make it so, not if it is only going to claw at him.

Daemon Targaryen, Rogue Prince, Lord of Flea Bottom, wielder of Dark Sister sits upon Caraxes and watches as the ivory moon lowers before him. He watches as gold forgives the darkness and they embrace. The twine of beauty and misery thread together in a beautiful seal. A seal of love and beauty. He twists a ring in his hand, one made of Valyrian steel and shattered promises. He sits upon a red cloth. Parchment is strapped to his thigh, awaiting acknowledgement, a web of bluebells encapsulates it. A letter of hopes, a letter of dreams unfulfilled. Daemon Targaryen, Rogue Prince, Lord of Flea Bottom, wielder of Dark Sister sits upon Caraxes and watches the sun rise and with it, his future. He has felt his slippery girl slip from him and now it is time for him to breathe new air. He is only left with the remnants of her but that is enough for him to resume his newfound duty. A duty to her, to her memory and to her desires. As he watches the night close, he finally takes acceptance. He accepts peace. Her love is not red, it is not blue. It is in what she has left behind and it is in what she has gifted onto him. Finally he understands what she meant that fated day. She does not own him. He belongs to her.

Her love is her remnants. And he has an army of it.

Remnants Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings) @chompchompluke @eyelinerandcigarettes

HOTD Taglist: (if your name is in italics and bold, that means i couldn't tag you, you will need to check your settings) @wrendermedone @hopelesswritergall @blackdreamspeaks @its-actually-minicika @gettheetoanunneryimmediatly @adelusionalwriter

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x fem!reader #daemon x you #daemon smut #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x fem reader #daemon x reader #daemon x fem reader #hotd x reader #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x fem smut #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x reader angst #angst

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wearethewinx · 10 months

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I SAID I wanted to talk about Aisha:

It's been theorized that Aisha doesn't want to be a princess. I strongly disagree. She takes her role as the princess of Andros extremely seriously, and imo she clearly WANTS to be a good ruler. Yes, she snuck out to dance sometimes and refused her arranged marriage, but that NEVER stopped her from doing her Princess Duties, and she doesn't have baggage around the decorum of her station. She deploys it effortlessly when beneficial and takes it off just as easily. She drops everything at a moment's notice to return to Andros at the slightest sign of trouble to Be Their Princess

She is DEVOTED and LOYAL. Like, maybe the most of all the winx? She knew Flora for like, a week, and that was enough friendship currency for her to BREAK INTO HELIA'S ROOM AND PAW THROUGH HIS SHIT. Yeah Stella committed identity fraud for Bloom on day 1, but that's Stella. Aisha is responsible! Considers her actions carefully! EXCEPT when a friend needs a favor

That devotion includes her parents. Aisha's respect for her mother is paramount, even after the betrothal fiasco, and that's not just a passive thing. She proudly says "source: my mother told me and she's NEVER wrong" in class. I really wish we got to see more of Aisha's relationship with her parents

She knows a lot about poetry and speaks many languages. Again, I just wish we saw more of this

Basically homeschooled

Her royal education doesn't seem to include magic? Which is SUPER interesting to me. Every other princess we meet except Diaspro is canonically some kind of magic student, but Aisha seems self-taught. While every other princess in the magic dimension is learning to be a fairy or sorceress, the princess of Andros is learning diplomacy, fencing, languages, poetry, dancing, etiquette. That says a lot about Androssi royalty!

She's gentle

GENUINELY KIND OF A MAN HATER

I feel like Aisha is often flattened as 'the strong one' (and I do have personal beef w/ how people incorporate that into her design- she's sporty, not a bodybuilder. Dancing, motorcycling, and surfing are not activities that lend themselves to big bulky biceps!!) and I really think that's a boring disservice to her. IMO she's the sort of person who would really appreciate and treasure little friendship tokens, and spend a lot of time just. Trying to do nice things for the winx, and solve their problems. She treasures quiet time spent together.

Helia loving her (despite Aisha thinking he's a loser) because she knows a lot of philosophy and has a good command over her Vibes. Her and Brandon Doing Sports together bc the other Winx aren't interested and the other specialists annoy her too much, and them becoming catty frenemies. Aisha knowing about the history of Domino and the legend of the Dragon Fire, and bonding with Bloom over it. Bloom drawing a picture of the Winx together and Aisha keeping it forever. Aisha still being scared of the dark and Stella giving her a magical light. Musa helping Aisha plan something special to celebrate the Day of the Rose. Tecna Musa and Aisha bonding over the difficulty they have being openly emotional. Flora and Aisha fretting over eachother's well-being and bonding over their shared sense of responsibility to their families

#winx club #winx

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coolpointsetta · 7 months

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the moment roy knew he was going to marry jamie wasn’t the typical, romantic moment one might expect. it wasn’t in the kitchen, slow dancing on a lazy sunday and it wasn’t watching him play princesses and dragons with phoebe.

now, make no mistake, these can definitely be moments roy knew he picked the right person, knew that he loved jamie more than anything in the world, but the moment he knew he was going to marry him was different.

roy’s body has started naturally waking him up at 3:30 in the morning. years and years of training have taken away his ability to sleep in. but he’s used to it, it’s fine. he adjusts to go to bed earlier to get the necessary amount of sleep and doesn’t think twice about it.

jamie thinks twice about it many times; he has never, ever been a fan of it. he is not a morning person, that has been very clear from the moment they started this shit.

not the relationship shit, because that’s very lovely, but the extra workout shit. jamie will kick and scream and throw a temper tantrum until roy gives him a look and a firm order to kick his ass in gear, to which jamie will suddenly act like he has never complained about anything in his life. roy will look to the sky and curse the deity responsible for pairing him and jamie together, intertwining their souls. (and then he says thank you, a thousand times over)

the routine is always the same: the alarm goes off (roy is usually awake a few minutes before anyway), roy jumps out of bed to eat his prepared breakfast while jamie holds onto the last few minutes of sleep he can steal before roy is flicking his forehead to wake him the fuck up. jamie complains, roy tells him what they’re working on today, jamie gets the fuck up.

rinse and repeat, day in and day out.

but one day. the alarm goes off, and it’s not roy’s hand that reaches over the press the off button.

“come on, old man! rise and fuckin’ shine!” jamie is yelling, jumping around and punching the fucking air like he’s a boxer. roy looks up at him, utterly bewildered and confused, and jamie just keeps doing his thing.

“what are you doing?” roy demands, voice thick with sleep. he blinks once, twice just to make sure he’s not dreaming. he punches himself for good measure, too.

but jamie remains. fully dressed up and ready to go as if he’s been up for hours.

“we’re losing precious time, royo! up and at ‘em!” jamie hounds him again, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips before he’s practically throwing himself down the stairs to eat breakfast.

roy doesn’t know what to say. he doesn’t know what to think.

roy does know how he feels and that is that he is completely, totally in love with jamie. and he wants to spend the rest of his life with the young idiot, even if jamie does nothing but raise his blood pressure and turn his hair gray.

roy sighs, pulling himself out of bed when he hears jamie singing one of the damn barbie movie songs as he prepares breakfast.

yup. not only is roy totally in love with this fool and wants to spend forever with him, but he’s going to put a ring on that finger and make damn sure it happens.

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #royjamie #roy x jamie #own post #they’re such fools #they’re idiots your honor #but they’re my precious babies

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manitschilly · 1 month

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My notes taken while reasearching the Zelda Timeline lol, mostly cannon a little headcannon in places. Also my Zelink rating aren't how much I like them it's how likely they are in the narrative.

Power: Din ->Demise->Ganondorf. The Gerudo give birth to a male every 100 years, and it's only ever been Ganon. The 100 year system got screwed though because Ganon keeps not actually dying. Pigs. Fire. Red.

Courage: Farore-> heros spirit (fierce diety?)-> Link. Only the hero's spirit is reincarnated in Link, so he's not the same person. Not related at all, except for Twilight Princess where Link is a descendant of Ocarina of Time Link. Wolves and horses. Lighting. Green.

Wisdom: Naydra -> Hylia-> Zelda. Every Zelda is actually Hylia reincarnated through a consistant bloodline. Loftwing. Ice. Blue.

-The three goddess create the earth and the triforce, and that's their only relation to Demise, Hylia, and the heros spirit. They're not reincarnations at all, more like patrons. (Unwillingly in Dins case). Din created the land, Farore created life, and Nayru created order.

-possibly Zonai and Sonia and Rauru founding the first kingdom of Hyrule. This would imply there is a Ganon unconnected to Demise sealed for the rest of everything and a dragon Zelda floating around. Rauru and Sonias light and time magic start off the royal family.

-a long undisclosed time with robots for some reason

-A battle between the Hylia, Demise and the races in Hyrule breaks out over the Triforce. Hylia takes the Hylian kingdom into the sky to protect them, then becomes a Hylian to protect the triforce. She also created a sword with a spirit named Fi with her godly power. With Demise sealed for now, she waits to be born.

-Sheikah are probably started around here, as like a Hylia cult.

-First incartion is Skyward Sword, when Hylia chooses to be born as Zelda and chooses Link as her champion to hold the heros spirit. They fight Demise who then curses them to reincarnate forever, and establishes his own incarnation, kicking off the rest of the series. Hylia, now Zelda, is shown to use her time powers. Link, Zelda, and a few Hylians from Skyloft restart the kingdom on the surface.

Link and Zelda are in love, Zelda chosing Link specifically for that reason. This could imply that Hylia and the heros spirit are soulmates in some way, and every incarnarion after is an extension of that. They don't end up together every time, but that makes it even more beautiful and heartrenching. (Just to specify, Links aren't related so don't worry about it) 10/10 Zelink potential this shit is cannon.

Kikwi present. Impa is there as part of the Shiekah. Impa seems to be either a repeated name or a title given to Shiekah warriors meant to protect the reincarnation of Hylia, not their own incarnation.

-another very long time gap

-evil sorcerors are after the triforce which is hidden in the sacred realm. A new temple of time (after the one in Hylias time used to hide the sealed Demise and Zelda) is built around the master sword, which has been holding in Demise this whole time.

-Another long time passes. Zelda's descendants have become the royal family. Princesses are named Zelda after the original incarnation (note, they aren't all reincarnations, just named after her). There is still a lot of magic floating around the bloodline.

-sheikah are sworn to Hylias blood and therefore the royal family.

-Hyrule is again in danger, a special species called the Minish come from the sky to protect them with a special sword, which was then wielded by an incarnation of Link.

-a bitch named Vaati wants light powers, turns the current Zelda (actually an incarnation, you know because there's a hero) to stone, and that times Link turns the Minish's sword into the 4-sword. Zelda is the light power source, as the light power is still in the royal family. 8/10 Zelink potential

Gorons present

-Another time skip

- the four-sword is used to defeat Vaati again by another Link and Zelda incarnation. 6/10 Zelink potential

- time skip

- Giant ass civil war

- shiekah go into hiding but are still used by the royal family for sketchy shit. (Queue shadow temple 'nam flash backs)

- the first actual Ganondorf is born, or the second depending on if the Zonai are before or after.

- Ganondorf is born as king of the gerudo, and pretends to be allied with the king to gain access to the triforce which is still in the sacred realm, sealed with the master sword. This Link incarnation pulls out the master sword as a child and opens the sacred realm, allowing Ganandorf access to the Triforce, the triforce of power attaching itself to him forever. This also gave Link the triforce of Courage and Zelda the triforce of wisdom. The sacred realm becomes evil and Ganondorf is sealed in it. There's a lot of time travel and it ruins just everything.

Zora, Kokiri, Gerudo, and Gorons present.

Great deku tree dies and is reborn.

and now shit hits the fan

Fallen hero time line

- Link freaking dies and Ganondorf wins, taking the while triforce for himself. He still gets sealed in the corrupted sacred realm, but now he has the triforce. 0/10 Zelink potential long term, as Link is dead, but like 8/10 short term.

- time passes and homies keep going into the sacred realm to get the triforce but they never come back and monsters keep coming out. The sealed it again, at great cost of life and resources

- Agahim, some bitch, takes over the kingdom and the remaining sages to break the seal on Ganon. This reincarnarion of Zelda magically contacts the new Link. He kills Ganon and uses his newly acquired triforce to put everything back to normal. Now the royal family has the triforce. 7/10 Zelink potential. Same Link then has Links awakening acid trip. I'd knock down the Zelink potential but Malin like isn't real so.

Zora present

- same Link then has another acid trip but this time it's real, ending with Ganon being brought back to life as a mindless force of chaos. Ups Zelink to like 8/10, and confirms existence of other kingdoms beside Hyrule that aren't in another dimension.

- triforce splits again somehow, power returns to beast Ganon

- time skip

- new Link, new sages, Lorule exists so that's fun, opposite Hyrule dimension without a triforce. Ganon is freed and eats a man probably. Confirms this Link and Zelda have their respective triforces. Upon returning to Hyrule, the triforce is again in 1 piece and peace is restored to Hyrule and Lorule. 8/10 Zelink potential and like 9.5/10 Hildio potential.

- same Link goes to Hytopia, yet another kingdom in the same dimension.

- time skip. Great time, royal family again has the United triforce.

- King breaks up the triforce and sends Courage to the next Link incarnation, hiding its physical location from all except his daughter Zelda. New King puts that Zelda under a sleeping spell and regrets it. Tries to rule with just power of Wisdom but it doesn't go great.

- time skip

- same Ganon steals the triforce of power, new Zelda and Impa. New Link, without triforce of Courage, again postponed Ganon

- same Link is helping Hyrule not burn down, when suddenly he is given the triforce of Courage mark. He wakes up the old Zelda. I'd say the Zelda born in his time is the actual incarnarion, the older Zelda just a princess. 9/10 Zelink actually but like also he's a little weird with old Zelda to little odd but okay.

Child timeline

- Link defeats Ganondorf and is sent back in time to relive the childhood he didn't have. He warns the royal family before Ganondorf can gain any power and therefore the events of Ocarina of Time never happen. Link leaves on a horse to look for Navi and has a Majoras mask acid trip. 10/10 short term Zelink and like 2/10 longterm, but also one of my favorite dynamics. This is one of the tragedy timeliness, where Zelda loved him before sending him back in time (Sheik was a simp). He could have ended up with this Zelda, but he probably didn't because his descendant in the next game isn't royalty like at all. Scrodingers Zelink, if the next Zelink happened then this one didn't, but we don't know if it does.

-Ganondorf is banished to the Twilight realm, where the wizard sent there a Hella long time ago got busy. He gains power with a guy named Zant who takes over the Twilight realm and breaks out to Hyrule. The princess of the Twilight realm named Midna finds the new Link incarnation, an actual descendant of the last one and holder of the triforce of Courage.

Link is trained by the like ghost of the hero of time, who is an adult and missing an eye. The hero of time means nothing to this Hyrule because Ocarina of Time never happened.

They kill Ganondorf finally holy shit and the Twilight mirror is shattered, forever separating the two places.

Like 8/10 Zelink potential, frick Illia freaking hate her. I follow that Zelink both had a crush on Midna but she's gone sooooo

Gerudo, Gorons, and Zora.

-big ass time skip

-new Ganondorf is born finally, but is like immediately sealed with the 4-sword by a new Link. I don't think there even is a Zelda so 0/10 Zelink potential

Adult timeline

-this is what's left when Link gets sent back in time. Ganondorf is sealed in the corrupted spirit realm and the triforce of Courage shatters into 8 pieces, master sword is returned to the temple of time. 10/10 horribly tragic Zelink poor Zelda good lord.

-time passes without any reincarnations.

-Ganon escapes his seal in the sacred realm but there's still no Link or so Hyrule is effed. The gods flood Hyrule, society continues on mountaintops that are now islands and Hyrule is frozen underneath a giant ocean. The Triforce of Wisdom is split in two between Zelda, who stays on land, and her father, in the frozen Hyrule.

-Time passes badly

-Gannon escapes to the surface and kidnaps "girls with pointed ears", or descendants of Hylia. A new Link appears and gets the master sword from the frozen Hyrule, but it doesn't do shit until he fixes the triforce of courage. The king appears and bestows Links pirate captain the other half of the triforce, as she's reveled to be this time's Zelda. The triforce is restored and the old Hyrule gets genocided. Ganon is sealed, not dead, and Link and Zelda/Tetra go to establish a new hyrule. 10/10 Zelink potential this is some good shit. Rito, Kokiri, and Gerudo present

-same Link and Zelda have a bit on their quest, no lasting consequences except for 11/10 Zelink potential. They discover New Hyrule.

-some train shit in New Hyrule, new Link and Zelda have a soft romantic adventure with no lasting consequences except no more trains. 10/10 Zelink it's the whole plot.

Gorons present

After or before

-all the three timelines get just apocalyptic and society is just like gone, so the Zonai come from the Heaven's and with their arrival comes the merging of the three timelines.

-OR potentially Rauru and Sonias time is actually before Skyward Sword, as Ganondorf isn't actually a reincarnation. This would imply that every other game happens inbetween Rauru and Sonias time and Breath of the Wild, which i like better but it makes some leaps in logic, however it also explains the existence of both time and Light magic in the royal blood line.

-time passes

-Hyrule is once again reformed OR formed for the first time, by the last of the Zonai, Raruru and his Hylian wife Sonia. The incarnations are still going strong, so Ganondorf is born but their kind of hosed because there isn't a Link or Zelda OR the incarnations havent started yet and this is the first Ganon, before he was tied to Demise.

Luckily, either way, a Zelda comes from the future, and after a battle ending in the death of Sonia, Rauru uses himself to seal Ganondorf away and Zelda turns into a dragon.

-Time passes, the kingdom grows and hyrule castle is built over Ganondorf.

-Time passes and either all the other games happen or nothing happens, either way Zelda is still a dragon.

Definitely after

-a Link and Zelda are reincarnated to fight Calamity Gannon, whatever is left of the monster Ganon that was never killed in the other timelines. They, with the highly technogically advanced Shiekah, build weapons and postpone his return. We don't know much but like 8/10 Zelink I don't know could be cool. Shiekah go off, creating shrines and all types of shit.

-abreak off of the shiekah called the Yiga form, which is like the shiekah but for Ganon instead of Hylia.

-a new Link and Zelda are born. They are so far ahead that they no longer have a grasp on the incarnations before them besides a few sparce legends. They know Ganon is coming back but they don't know who he is. They know Zelda is suppose to have powers, but they have no idea how she's gets them. Link finds the master sword in the lost woods, guarded by the great deku (the 2nd actually the first one died somewhere).

So they fail, whoops. Link dies and gets put in a Sheikah shrine for healing while Zelda holds of Ganon for 100 years.

-hyrule collapses and turns into almost a tribal society very unconnected.

-Link wakes up, wrecks havoc, and defeats Calamity Ganon, freeing Zelda and starting the reconstruction of hyrule.

10/10 Zelink potential. We got the before when Zelda cononicly loved him but we don't know Links feeling, and then Link might remember her and its like a reuniting thing and it's lovely or he doesn't and they fall in love again. Or possibly he didn't love her before and either way its a saga and his rubber band was in her study in "her" house thats all I'm saying.

-7 years, hyrule is being rebuilt by Zelda.

-A sickness is spreading through Hyrule, Zelda and Link go to investigate and find what's left of the Ganondorf Rauru fought, who is either the first ganondorf or the most recent one. Zelda is sent in the past to Sonia and Rauru, along with the destroyed master sword.

Zelda is turned into a dragon and lives out thousands of years as one, potentially during every other game in the series. If so, the cloud layer established by Hylia was probably around until the upheavel, hiding her.

-The Upheavel happens and the world gets a little more cracked out, but Link defeats the Ganondorf and Zelda is turned back to her Hylian form. 11/10 Zelink potential and the dragon bit is so upsetting.

The three goddesses are present as dragons. Are they dragons? Are they just manifestations of their power? Idek but it's sick.

What the hell is Beedle? I read a fanfic once that he never dies because he helped Hylia once and it was really good so I highkey stand by that.

Sages kinda hop around, usually there's 7, one for each major group, even though not every race exists in every game. Are they extensions of the gods somehow?

(Rito, Zora, Gerudo, Gorons, Hylians, Shiekah, and whatever weird shit they got going on that game usually just Zelda)

One main issue with the Zonai before theory is that there's all the races when the Rito specifically doesn't seem to exist outside of the adult timeline.

There is a possible Kikwi, Kokiri, Korok pipeline.

I prescribe to the fierce deity as the original hero incarnation because it's just fits well and I'm obsessed with him, but it it doesn't really matter either way. I also read a fanfic once where the Fierce Deity loved Hylia and fought with her against Demise, but he died and the hero's spirit in each Link is what's left of him. Also read one where he saved Farore once from Demise and that's why he's specifically blessed with courage. Might have been the same one. I cannot remember it is 5:30 am and I haven't slept yet.

Ears are cool and plot relevant. The closer they are the Hylia the pointier their ears are, they get less pointy over time. Which adds to the Zonai being before because they got the pointiest ears. Also Gerudo ears get more pointy as time goes on.

Din gerudo pipeline? That's interesting. Farore and Nayru don't really have anything like that. Hylia has the Hylians but that's it.

Great Deku tree? Who? How? Why is he still kicking? Kind of adds to the Before Zonai theory or else he would have had to survive whatever apocalypse destroyed everything

In summary, somebody off me and therapy is probably a good investment.

#legend of zelda #legend of zelda timline #zelink #loz #tears of the kingdom #breath of the wild #ocarina of time #link #zelda #twlight princess #wind waker #skyward sword #nintendo

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tenderfxck · 1 year

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hello!!! i really like ur sub characters they make me giggle ngl cause like awww <3 if it’s okay can I request a Zhongli x reader where during the night he lets his half dragon form out while he rests, so he has his horns and tail out but still looks human (I think that is his morax form) however the reader doesn’t know about him being a dragon so one night as he has his form out, she is having a wet dream and poor Li’ has to grit his teeth and try not to whimper and buck his hips up as she grinds and humps his tail :(( poor baby is getting all the stimulation but not enough at this same time :(( Eventually he’ll come and twitch while slapping a hand over his mouth to stop his whining as his beloved continues to grind all over his tail, rubbing its most sensitive parts and he just has to endure the overstimulation. (Have a good day!)

zhongli//restless night//f!reader//18+

contents: half dragon! zhongli, f!reader, somno, accidental voyerism, shit anon you got me good T T

notes: AAAAAH i'm so late, sorry this took forever, there was a whole lot going on in my life but i’m still so happy you sent this spicy prompt to me, it was so much fun to write💕

it was a time of rest. a time when he allowed himself to relax just enough that he wouldn’t have to keep up the appearance of a human anymore.

the long amber horns were allowed to sprout from his temples, while his long tail resembling that color of oudh wood was permitted to spread itself across the fine sheets that wangshu inn provided.

and yet, now you have spread yourself across him. . .

this certainly wasn’t the plan, but can anything ever go accordingly when it comes to you?

zhongli wasn't expecting to be in such a vulnerable position with you. he was typically vigilant about hiding his dragon-like form, dismissing himself from your company to his own room for the night before unwinding.

but tonight, wangshu inn was fully booked except for one solitary room.

with only one bed.

you fussed about the arrangement, but zhongli merely chuckled, assuring you that as long as you were comfortable, he did not mind the prospect of sharing.

so the two of you shared this bed together. zhongli had thought absolutely nothing of it. he'll just retain his human form all night.

well, that was the plan, until he felt your weight dip the other side of the mattress, settling so comfortably against his form as you quickly dozed off. he could smell the sweet scent of your perfume, feel the soft cotton of your nightgown against him. it was just so. . .cozy. warm and safe

soon enough, zhongli could feel his human form slipping, sprouting those more dragon-like traits without him noticing.

well. . .then he'll just wake up before your pretty eyes even think to flutter open. zhongli will change back and you'll never be the wiser to this altered state he finds himself in now.

yes, a fine plan.

(and one that would let him indulge in the warmth and comfort of you as he dozed off)

but of course, that's when you saw fit to strike upon him.

it is had all started so innocently. just you clinging to him, snuggled up so cutely even as he faced away from you. you had been positioned against him, cradling his back as you spooned his resting form. his great tail was in between those soft thighs, but zhongli had decent enough self-control to ignore it.

that’s when he first felt the thrust of your hips.

he was on the cusp of waking and asleep until the sudden motion enticed him away from the edge.

he thought nothing much of it. just the shifting of your body to a more comfortable position. he was settling in to his pillow once again when he felt the rock of hips against his tail again.

a gasp was caught in his throat, unsure if what happened wasn't just an active imagination on his part. zhongli held his breath, waiting to see if it was just a trick of his mind.

and then there it was again. a long, drawn out stroke of your hips. and this time, the heavenly sigh of your voice to accompany it.

zhongli grit his teeth, listening intently for any sign that you had awoken, but all that graced his ears was your soft snores accompanied by tiny little whimpers escaping you.

unknowingly, in a fit of passion only clear to you in whatever blissful dream your sleeping form had conjured up, you were nonetheless grinding upon zhongli’s ridged tail in what was now becoming a slow, yet steady pace.

“a-ah~ excuse me,” he stuttered, barely able to process the scene enfolding behind him. he stumbled over his words, desperately searching for any way to wake you up without mortifying the two of you. “you seem to be-aah!” zhongli couldn’t contain that little outburst. he gasped at the steady friction you provided.

zhongli couldn’t believe the circumstances. he turned his head, chancing a look back upon your peaceful form.

sure enough you were still soundly asleep, unaware of the lewd situation playing out before you.

it didn’t help that his tail was overly sensitive to stimuli (something left over from more primordial days) and especially that of your wet cunt catching on each prominent bump along his long tail.

“a-ah, wait, that’s. . . nngh!” zhongli tried to protest. he knew the implications this would have if you were to wake up and discover more than just the illicit situation you found yourselves in.

but zhongli had desired you for so long. thought about just what noises you would make in circumstances like this long before he found himself here tonight. and now it was all coming true. right in his ear.

and right against him. . .

fuck. your needy pussy humping his sensitive tail was just too much. the worst part is he could feel just exactly how wet you had gotten using him to get yourself off. he grasps at the waistband of his pants, dragging them down and letting his already weeping cock spring forth from the cotton confines.

it’d shame him to admit just how quickly this little routine had him stiff and aching in his pants. but his self restraint had already eroded to much.

if you were enjoying yourself, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to indulge himself as well?

zhongli took his cock in hand and began to slowly stroke, focusing on the distinct feeling of you moving against him. he bit his tongue, willing any moans to die on his lips before he dares disturbs your slumber.

it continued like that for archons knows how long. the thrust of your hips, followed by zhongli silencing his moans and fisting his cock quicker, all while enduring all those sweet little whimpers escaping you as you chased your own pleasure on his tail.

it was too much. too much stimulation, too many little sounds. the slick of your cunt against him, the wet noise of him fucking his own fist, the knowledge that you were so close, using him to get yourself off while that pretty little head dreamt about all sorts of perverse things.

too much. too much. he’s gonna-!

he comes with a particularly deep grind of your twitching pussy gliding against his now glistening scales. he clasped a trembling hand over his mouth, willing himself quieter as dragon fangs catch against his palm, feeling himself finally come undone. he basks in the sensation of you humping so diligently against his most vulnerable area as he spills his thick load all over himself.

he panted, tremors still finding their way through his body as he lay spent, thighs and stomach covered in his seed.

he gasped, moaning and twitching in the aftermath.

yet you still continued.

fuck. fuck. archons, you weren’t stopping-!

you kept on grinding onto his newly overstimmed tail, letting out those sweet little whimpers, chasing that high while zhongli has to sit and bear this whole lewd scene as he writhed and panted against you.

this was going to be a long night. . .

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