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forbidden-sunlight · 4 months

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yandere!emperor with empress!reader scenario

warnings: infidelity, obsessive behavior, blackmail, non-con, regicide.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the back button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome to my first yandere fic! Before we dive in, I want to let you know a couple of things; firstly, this is not the prologue of a series and never will be one because I simply do not have the time right now. It is a scenario, a prompt, that was inspired by the Fallen Kingdom series created by @cassanderasblog. I will leave a link to their work here. I credit them for giving me inspiration and being honest in their feedback when I showed them the initial draft. Credit also goes to @faux-ecrivain for helping finish a difficult scene.

Finally, please do not comment on here if you wish to harass me in some shape or form. I do and will not tolerate bullying. As the saying goes, "If you have nothing nice to say, don't say it at all." If it does happen, however, I will have no choice but to remove this scenario as soon as possible.

So, with that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy :)

Yandere!Emperor had despised you with his heart and soul. The only reason he had allowed the marriage to even happen was to solidify the alliance between his nation and yours. He did not love you. The woman who held his heart, the one whom he trusted above everyone else in the world is Tatiana Adreeva. His mistress. A beautiful flower that should never be polluted by the nobles who dare to not allow her to become the Empress simply because she lacked the status equal to his own prior to ascension. You did.

Yandere!Emperor did not lay a hand on you after the vows had been exchanged in the temple. He did not seek out your company, preferring to seek comfort in Tati’s bed and her arms. He had his crown, his woman, and allocated more power through his marriage with you. It was nothing personal. He simply did what he had to do so that his Empire would continue to prosper.

Yandere!Emperor would not tolerate any rudeness targeted toward his lover, even if you had not uttered a single word to her at all or raised your hand against her.

To him, ignoring her when she greeted you was enough to earn a lengthy lecture from him.

But you did not cling to him or beg for mercy, as he thought you would do, or any other self-respecting maiden who did not want to anger her husband. You coldly stared at him with that, silent as the grave until he dismissed you from his office. Out of spite, he had his aide add more documents to your desk for the next month even when the work was not part of the Empress’ official duties.

To his joy, Tatiana became pregnant with his child, his heir. Being by her side was suddenly all that mattered to Yandere!Emperor. His overprotective streak and ill temperament increased over time. He would lash out at you for the smallest of incidents, even if it was not your fault. And like before, you did not react to his words and continued with your life.

Like what happens to him or with his mistress is none of your concern unless it is associated with the Empire and the citizens. As it should be. He did not marry you out of love.

When the child was born, a healthy baby boy christened Nikolov, Yandere!Emperor held a banquet and invited ambassadors from neighboring kingdoms to celebrate. But it was on this day….that he knew the truth.

Once he had made the necessary greetings and made sure the captain of the guards would immediately report anything suspicious or if Tati and Nikolov were in any danger, Yandere!Emperor retreated to his office. He looked over the stack of documents on his desk, trying to lessen his workload in the morning so that he could spend time with his Tati and his son.

Upon hearing a knock at the door, he did not look up from the outline of a treaty as he allowed the third person to enter his office without cutting off their fingers. His mistress, the head butler, and his advisor. Tati’s older brother, Marquis Aizel Adreeva. Yandere!Emperor had bought the highest status that he could give to his mistress’ family after receiving positive confirmation that Tati was truly pregnant and not a misdiagnosis.

Aizel smiled, closing the door behind him with his foot as he set down a tray, placing two silver goblets and a bottle of wine on the corner of his desk. He spoke softly, congratulating Yandere!Emperor on finally having an heir and making his sister the happiest woman in the world. He poured the wine into the goblets. He held one in his hand, and extended his other hand to the Glorious Son, Blessed by the Five Gods.

Yandere!Emperor smiled, taking the offered drink. They raised their goblets high in the air, and drank. Yet when Yandere!Emperor looked at Aizel…his merry smile was not right. Not the kind of joy that a new uncle would express at a nationwide celebration. It was tighter, almost anticipating something…to happen.

That was when he realized the wine tasted bitter. That was when the room began to spin, and it felt like his skull being split in half. Poison. He had been betrayed. Yandere!Emperor grunted, trying to steady himself against the desk when Aizel walked around the wooden structure and had the audacity to push him back into the leather chair.

“Ah, ah, ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Emperor.” Aizel chastised, his amber orbs glowing with delight. “Not going to lie, I did not think the wine would accelerate the poison as quickly I had thought, but that works for me!”

Yandere!Emperor felt a rock plummet into the pit of his stomach at Aizel’s words. “You…did this?” He gurgled. “I thought…the Empress -”

“And deny me the opportunity to see the look on your face, choking on your blood? Absolutely not. Dear, sweet [First Name] would never have done this to you. You might not have loved her, but she did respect you.” Aizel shrugged. "If Tati were in her shoes, I reckon things would not have gone as smoothly as they have." He said casually, as if he were talking about the weather and not informally speaking to the most powerful man in the Empire.

“I only have ten minutes before I must return to the party, so I will do the honor of answering your unspoken questions. Now, where should I start? Oh, right. Why? Why did I do this when I love you like a brother? When have you treated my sister and I with nothing but kindness and respect, providing support whenever we are troubled, mentally, physically, and finanically? Well, the answer is really, really simple: I don’t. I tolerated you. I respected you. But never once did I feel any affection towards you.” His smile widened. “The one who deserves to stand by Tati's side is the Rapid Dog of The Northern Border, my brother-in-arms. Remember him? He was engaged to Tati. The man she should have married, should have been the father of my nephew. But you had the engagement annulled because she had said a few nice words to you. You threatened to seize my family’s home unless she came to the palace as your mistress? Do you remember? Why do I even bother asking? You’re going to die anyway, and we will finally be free from this gilded cage. Seven years. Seven long, agonizing years of watching my sister playing the gentle, loving role of a besotted mistress when all she really wanted to do was slit your throat. I thought about that every day too, you know? Well, almost. I actually felt sorry for the Empress, you know. She didn’t deserve to have a husband who neglected his duties and blamed everything on the one person who kept the gears in this Empire going, until now.”

“E-Empress -”

“Had an assassin give her a clean, painless death. Made it look like an accident, and he delivered! That’s very impressive for an underground guild, you know. Investment was worth it.” Aizel giggled.

“Now, it’s time to let everyone know their beloved Emperor has retired for the evening and call it a night. Big changes are coming. Pity you won’t see it. Don’t worry though, I won’t kill Nikki. I do love him…and he will never know that his true father is a tyrannical piece of shit who died in his own pool of blood because he allowed love to muddle his mind when he should have put the country’s well being above all else. Farewell, Emperor Aleksander of the Moldova Empire. From the ashes of corruption, a new country shall be born. And my nephew will rule over it in his father’s stead once he is ready. The father he should have had and not the one who brought him into this world, Duke Matthias Starkov.”

When he awakened, Yandere!Emperor realized he was no longer on the floor. He could breathe and he could see in the mirror that hung across the room that he looked younger again. He asked, no, demanded, a quivering servant to tell him what the year and date were, now. It was The Year of the Moon, ----. As the crown prince of the Moldova Empire, it is his duty to select a candidate to become his crown princess, his future Empress who would rule beside him when he ascended as the Emperor. His father, the current Emperor, is growing impatient with his sixteen-year-old son and annoyed that he is still fawning over the marquis’ daughter, Tatiana Adreeva, a woman who was already engaged to a duke.

“Bring me the list, no, tell Josef to bring it to my office immediately. I will be there shortly.” Yandere!Emperor had never pushed the servants to dress him quickly as he did at this moment. He did not know how or why, but he had returned to the past, right when he had seen Tatiana for the first time. Seven years into the past, before Aizel had poisoned him and killed his Empress.

Sure enough, he saw his Empress’ name on the list, five down from the most qualified and right in the middle of the lengthy parchment. [First Name] [Last Name], born to the Republic of Greiran, the Prime Minister’s only daughter.

They are Moldova’s closest neighbor and primary source of spices and various crops that are able to thrive in the harshest of weather conditions. Rumor had it that the Prime Minister himself was the one who had collaborated with the magician’s tower on this project, saving thousands of lives from suffering another winter and no harvest after the king had collapsed from a broken heart, having lost his queen after she had given birth to the crown prince.

That connection to the magician’s tower was the only reason Yandere!Emperor had married his Empress. Access to more magical resources than the ones in the Moldova Empire, enabling the creation of magical weapons and protecting the borders around enemy nations. And yet he still died like a damned dog, blind to the respect and admiration his Empress held for him in favor of receiving love from his murderer. But not this time. This time….he will set things right.

He will not get involved with Tatiana Adreeva.

He will ascend to the throne as he is supposed to.

He will be devoted only to [First Name], never taking a mistress even if the aristocracy begged him. Even if their marriage is only on paper, and she never looks at him as a man and only as an Emperor.

He will learn everything there is to know about his future Empress, and he will never let her go.

Taglist

@impeakcharacterdesign

@ceeesxy-blog

@mitra555

@mooly-artistic

@lxdymoon0357

@xiaopleasecomehome

@lovely-nightmares

@aurora-rose-miller

@swallowtailcherry

@justcressida

@faux-ecrivain

@yandere-dark-cupid

@likesugarandcyanide

@angelltheninth

@kanroji-san

@suiana

@swallowtailcherry

©️do not repost or use any of the characters depicted here without the author’s permission. forbidden-sunlight, 2023

#forbidden-sunlight #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere male #yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere manhwa x reader #yandere!emperor #do not repost #yandere oc #ns.fw #cw obsession #tw obsession #tw yandere #tw dubious consent #cw dubious consent #tw murder #cw murder

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bettyfrommars · 7 months

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do you have any fic recs? (Eddie X reader?)

oh gosh, I immediately wanted to ask what your preferences were and the type of Eddie x reader fics you gravitate towards because there are so many variations out there, and I am sorely behind on catching up with a lot of fandom fics, especially long series, because I joined so late in the game. Let me just give a few that I personally love, out of many, in no particular order:

@neonghostlights has a lot of gems, but To the Moon and Back (alien!eddie) and Beast of Burden (werewolf!eddie) are two favorites of mine right now. Her creative talent is wild.

@somnambulic-thing changed my brain chemistry with their fics Smoke and Cherry Pop Rocks and Eat Me Drink Me, but honestly, they are such a talented writer and artist, and I will recommend everything they create, infinity.

Have you read about fisherman!eddie yet by @dr-aculaaa ?? Their fic Sailor's Delight is so unique and wonderful, but also they are prolific, so you can't really miss on that masterlist.

Finding Ziggy by @onegirlmanytales absolutely made me fall in love with Cat Dad Eddie and I will recommend it until the day I die, it's honestly so cute and it you are having a bad day, it will lift your spirits.

Freak Like Me series by @courtingchaos is a must read, as well as her riverMonster!eddie and everything else she writes. I'm literally in awe.

@fairyysoup wrote Death and the Maiden and I will never think of a Grim Reaper as anything other than Eddie ever again in my life. I think about this fic on a regular basis. Their entire masterlist is a win.

@imjuststeddietrashatthispoint is so talented all around, but they did one called Bruises with Eddie as an underground boxer, and it was one of the first fics that ever caught my attention when I joined this app for being so unique and sexy.

Exile in Guyville by @chestylarouxx is so good, I love this Eddie, and if you have not ventured though their writing yet, you will have many treats in store. I have several all-time favorites in their masterlist, you can't go wrong.

I just started one by @eddies-house called Smoke Signals and it's really adorable grumpy Eddie, but also, it's very much fall vibes and a nice, cozy read this time of year.

I know the second I post this I will think SHIT I forgot so many, but I hope you find some new loves here 💗

#fic recs #betty's asks

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astralnymphh · 7 months

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born of flora and fauna 𓇢𓆸 | ellie williams | series guide⛧

𓇢𓆸𓍢ִ໋- knight!ellie x princess!reader AU guide ⛧ (teaser II.)

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

𓍢ִ໋-;this is purely a guide to my upcoming series, detailed with important places and their names, descriptions and reference photos. i'll also include short excerpts of ellie's backstory in this fic plus the readers. vol 0./the prologue is making quick progress so i wanna get y'all excited as long as it doesn't flop (ALSO I FIGURED OUT GRADIENT TEXT FINALLY!! kinda.. im too lazy to fix anything) cw: literally only one mention of mature themes. nothing crazy. the actual series on the other hand.. will be SMUTful

𓆸𓍢ִ໋-; castle maelony

𓍢ִ໋-; mount of the regal family, bejeweled in a facade that masks a strident haunting no king would wish to dig up from the catacombs lining the roots of this limestone beast. 𓆸𓍢ִ໋-; istenad

𓍢ִ໋-; core of the meadowland, visible from far mountain boundaries of all directions. adorned with dreamy spires and coliseums, to markets and common houses, every mother and their kin covet this kingdom. 𓆸𓍢ִ໋-; dunwich

𓍢ִ໋-; ellie, a knight bound in hide and chainmail, derived and nurtured in the prairie village of dunwich, where the fertile seasons prove flaxen of corn and the trickling sweat of every farmhand turns to gold. any newborn granted to this quaint village is fated to form calloused hands with labor written in their palm lines as time flows.

𓆸𓍢ִ໋-; glade 'ionspire'

𓍢ִ໋-; a front line of trees encircling this unmapped forest, conceals a beautiful loch only few souls venture to. it happens that a determined princess can be caught galivanting about with a weapon, playing her dreamt up persona of a maiden warrior she only dawns in private. 𓆸𓍢ִ໋-; clementine cottage

𓍢ִ໋-; no home is without its glamour of hearth. a picturesque getaway straying from the bustling streets of instenad tempts such who fiend for freedom. nights under the brilliant spangled sky in this cottage have been ones of love, tangled in bed, vowing to your beloved in a hysteria of lust.

(and there she is!! im really excited to get this fully fledged out its gonna be a JUICY series promise even for being centered in medieval times it is quite deviously lustful !!!)

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #knight!ellie #knight!ellie x princess!reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x fem!reader #lesbian #sapphic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie smut #tlou ellie #⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆upcoming #𓇢𓆸𓍢ִ໋-

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yandere-fics · 26 days

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♡ Elisha Spends The Summer With An Immortal Maiden In Your Forest ♡

(This is 4,113 words so the longest fic I've written for one of my characters on their own.)

♡ Immortals were essential to the balance of life, you had to remain in your forest lest it wither and die without your presence, vampires must exist otherwise humans would hunt too many animals in the forests they resided in, dragons had to keep their forests safe havens, likewise there had to be those who hunted vampires who did not remain in their dens, there had to be a dragon slayer to keep dragons from getting too bold, and there had to be people who would come to try to harm you so you would be driven to stay in your forest and never leave, not that you would even if there weren't those trying to hunt you, but once upon a time in your youth you had thought about leaving your forest until you felt the cool steel of knife against your neck, in the end venturing out wasn't worth it. ♡

♡ When Elisha came into your forest wounded from a fight with what seemed like a giant dragon, you felt you had to take care of her, sure she could have healed on her own but her recovering quickly was essential for things falling into their natural order, it wouldn't do to have her out of commission and as the chosen one, you could tell from the seal on her boots, she surely would not bring harm to you so it wouldn't hurt you to help, so you dragged her back to your clearing in the woods and started to make medicine for her wounds. ♡

"Oh! You're awake! I found you at the edge of my forest and brought you inside to protect you." You kneeled down next to her sleeping roll with the bowl of soup you'd made for her, you knew she'd wake up today, you just hadn't realized she'd wake up so soon. You'd likely be able to get her out of your forest in a month with how fast she was recovering, it made you a bit sad to think you'd be alone again, even the company of a comatose body was better than no company. "I'm the maiden who guards these woods, you are the chosen one, correct?"

"That's me, honestly if I had to get stabbed through the stomach with a dragons claw just to see you, it's entirely worth it." She tried to sit up, flinching at the pain in her stomach, the wound luckily wasn't too deep but there still was a hole in her stomach at the current moment so she really shouldn't be moving at all for another week. She didn't respond well when you pushed her to lay back down, she was going to be an extremely rough patient to deal with. The first week passed without incident.

♡ Despite her non stop flirting, living with her was good, on the second week when she had actually became capable of moving again though still had to refrain from straining herself she followed you to the lake when you collected water for your camp. She wanted to help carry the buckets back but you refused to let her, her recovery was the most important thing at the moment. She was rather easy to talk to as well much to your surprise, she seemed nonchalant at first but it seemed to just be a mask, she was in fact a rather sweet and loving person to talk to. ♡

♡ She also understood everything you said quite well, you didn't need to explain basic concepts to her about how the forest worked or the creatures that resided there, she grasped it all very well and even wrote small journal entries about every creature that lived there, except for the pixies, they freaked her out every time you pointed out one of them, she'd mumbled under her breath something about them being demonic little shits before catching herself and apologizing, you supposed everyone had things they weren't able to handle though. ♡

"Fucking fuck!" You darted over to where Elisha was only to see her freaking out because a pixie had landed on a tree branch next to her head and she really didn't like it, you almost thought it was cute for a second because you realized she was actually a bit freaked out and came over to help her.

"It's okay, let's just keep walking, I'll hold your hand as we go, okay?" She fumbled for a minute trying to decide what to say before sighing and just taking your hand.

"Thanks, I guess." It was charming when she tried to pretend she didn't appreciate the gesture.

♡ Elisha insisted on following you everywhere in your forest during the third week, no longer only following you if you went long distances like to the lake, now following you even if you were only going to pick berries on the other side of the clearing, you told her your forest was safe as long as you never stepped foot outside it but she still felt the need to watch over you just in case. Her wound was getting significantly better on the bright side however. ♡

♡ You'd discovered how easy it was to cool her flirting, with just a tiny bit of reciprocation she was turned into a complete fool often shutting her mouth for a while. It made sense, whenever you'd spent any time with humans in your forest in the past they'd been all talk but the moment you moved to do something they had lacked the follow through excluding a few of them who left the next morning feeling like you'd lost your mystique now that you weren't an 'untouched' maiden of the woods. You couldn't understand why humans held that assumption but you were just glad you got to fuck to begin with even if they left afterwards. ♡

"You should just marry me and leave your forest baby." You had to hold back a laugh, it was likely the fifth time this day she'd blurted it out, she wasn't serious though, the second you indulged her for even a second she got all flustered and backed away, mumbling something about needing an engagement ring first. Today you were not in a humoring mood however, she had been doing heavy lifting around camp which was only going to make her wounds worse, it was like she was trying to get hurt so she could stay here longer.

"Sit back down, you'll reopen that stupid scar on your stomach." She grinned stupidly as you pushed her to sit down on a wooden log, her hand catching your hand and kissing your wrist gently.

"See, you're caring for me just like a wifey, baby, it's mean to be." You pulled away from her, trying not to even look at her for the rest of the day or else you'd see that stupid grin on her face. It was dangerous for her to be so beautiful, you'd almost believe she actually means the things she's saying. "Mmm my pretty wifey, I can't wait."

♡ She got far weirder the fourth week, her wounds were close to healing, she decided this meant she was good to start training again and aggravated her wound so much you forced her back on bedrest which didn't work the best considering her need to follow you even to the other side of your little camping site. It was cute having her trail you around constantly asking for your hand in marriage until it wasn't. ♡

♡ It was around this time you also became cognizant of the fact you were nude around her constantly and asked her to give you a pair of her clothing leading you to wear an oversized shirt she'd apparently stolen from a man she was gambling with and refused to give back out of spite even though it wasn't in her size, she'd forgotten about it in her bag, it really came in handy when you could feel her eyes growing far bolder by the day. ♡

"Do you have to wear that? It's just us in the clearing, I wanna see my baby again!" You rolled your eyes scooting away from her, she seemed offended you'd finally put some damn clothing on which only increased your desire to remain clothed around the massive flirt. You were not going to be seduced by this second rate seductress, it wasn't happening, sure she was pretty but out of everyone who had flirted with you, she was by far the worst flirt but one look at her pretty face and you'd almost believe she meant what she said when she called you baby in that ever so slightly whiny tone that demanded reciprocation.

"The fact that you want me to take it off so bad is why I'm not going to take it off." You heard her scoff and roll over in her bedroll but you couldn't look at her, that stupid face of hers made you just want to give in, next you'd need to find a pair of pants that fit, there was probably a pair leftover from a previous human though you imagine Elisha would get grumpy if you left for even a second to go find a pair and reopen her wounds so you'd have to wait until she slept.

♡ In a shocking twist of events it wasn't you putting on pants that bothered her, it was that they belonged to someone else despite the shirt that she gave you also also belonging to someone else, she was still on bedrest though and she apparently liked when you were nursing her back to health so she couldn't get up and shred them like she'd threaten to do when you first told her how you obtained them. The unfortunate thing about cleaning her wound every day and redressing it because it wouldn't stop coming open whenever she got up to follow you was you actually had to look at her for a prolonged period of time. ♡

♡ Elisha was basking in it though, every time you had to remove the bandages she proposed to you, you clearly wanted to be her wife, only her wifey would take care of her while she's bedridden, it was during that conversation you told her the real reason you dragged her in to care for her, the nature of the world would be thrown out of balance if she took too long to heal, it had nothing to do with her in the slightest, she did not take well to this. ♡

"You don't mean that baby," She shook her head back and forth pushing you away from her as you were trying to dress her wounds again for the tenth time this week. It was like everytime you rejected her she ripped her wounds open again but it couldn't have been on purpose surely. She was a bad flirt so surely she'd also be a terrible manipulator and you'd be able to see what she was doing if that was what it was.

"Elisha, just let me bandage you please?" You tried to approach again so you could push her down, if she got up all angry then it could increase her recovery time by weeks again, perhaps you should have said it with a bit more tact but you didn't want to lead her on.

"Y-you didn't mean it baby." She allowed you to push her back down onto the bed smiling happily as she grabbed your hand and nuzzled it. "You don't mean it."

♡ Despite how she'd calmed down, Elisha hardly spoke to you during week six, your word had affected her much harder than she cared to admit. You'd been a bit harsh, while it was true you did it for more selfish reasons such as keeping a balance, that didn't mean you completely hated her, you'd be rather sad to see her go. The silence didn't last long though as a bandit wandered into the woods hellbent on ending you. ♡

♡ You couldn't die as long as you were within the forest, nor could your forest die, it could be burned down however it would grow back just as strong right where it had been as long as you remained, at the same time if you were stabbed your wound would heal in days so long as you stayed in the woods so you were unaffected by intruders and they couldn't even drag you out of the forest, you had to leave it of your own accord so you would have ignored them until you realized there was someone in the forest who could be killed and thus you rushed out in front of the bandit to lead them away from Elisha but they couldn't even chase because soon after they were speared down by her. ♡

"Baby! Why would you do that?!? I was so worried!" She collapsed in your arms, chest heaving wildly from exerting herself like that, you didn't even want to start thinking of how bad her wounds had gotten from running over to spear the intruder.

"It would have been okay, usually they stab me and run in terror when they discover that hardly effects me." It wasn't a good enough explanation for her, just because you wouldn't have died didn't mean you didn't feel the pain and she knew that quite well from her other experiences with immortals, you should have just called her to protect you, why didn't you just fucking ask her to protect you!

"Baby, I love you, I can't let you be in pain!" She heaved a bit as you lifted her arm around your shoulders to guide her back to camp, you were going to have to treat her yet again. "I'm gonna protect you from now on. I'll get better and protect you forever."

♡ The seventh week she stop moving and opening her wounds up again, you supposed so was determined to finally heal after that last attack though it did upset you it took an attack on you for her to start paying attention to her own wellbeing it was better than her continuing to rip her stomach open. Her progress was really good as soon as she actually started listening to you though she did request you not to go too far away from the clearing unless it was to go get water at the lake, you were more than happy to oblige that request. ♡

♡ She was much more charming when she wasn't clinging to you every second though you didn't dare say that, you really didn't want to lead the poor girl on. She talked a lot less too while she was healing too, though she still proposed every morning and every night before she passed out so you were glad she felt energetic enough for that. ♡

"Baby, I love you." You made the mistake of giggling and she mistook it for you being pleased with her affections, she reached out to clutch your hand, not sitting up though, and pressed it against her face again. She had a real fondness for nuzzling you, you'd noticed. It was a bit cute. "Go out with me if you won't marry me yet baby."

"Alright, I will." You weren't sure what made you say yes but the smile on her face was enough to erase your doubts, if things went wrong then she'd be healed up quickly anyways and you could send her on her way, despite how stupid she came off at times, she was a reasonable girl, she'd surely be fine even if you ended things abruptly.

♡ Her recovery had been slowed down from all those weeks of her fighting against it but after a full week of bedrest it had finally scabbed up properly, she could get up and walk around as long as she went slowly which came with her begging you to kiss her every five minutes and pouting when it wouldn't turn into a full blown make out session though she relented when you reminded her she wouldn't heal quickly if she exerted herself with things like making out. ♡

♡ You could tell she wanted to start following you everywhere again but she was holding back and mostly staying in her bedroll when you left the clearing, you were sad she was getting closer to recovering and thus closer to leaving you but at the end of the day she had to get back out there for the sake of the world again, you couldn't keep her in your forest forever as nice as it had been to have company. ♡

"My wounds are almost healed baby!" She was thrilled when she pulled up her shirt that morning and saw it was beginning to scar. You knew if she just relaxed it would be easy for her to heal up, things usually healed quicker in this forest though you were the only immortal thing here so they didn't have your extreme healing rates but it was still a drastically improved healing rate and as the chosen one you were sure the magic of the forest would work on her better anyways. You knew what she really wanted though.

"Just one kiss, you still can't put too much pressure on it." She rolled her eyes at your lecture but you could tell she wasn't all that bothered by it, taking your lecturing as a sign you loved her.

"I know baby, just come here now?" You tucked your hair behind your ear and leaned in for a brief kiss though she quickly pulled you closer for another one immediately afterwards.

♡ The ninth week of the summer was by far the hottest of the summer and so since Elisha was healed enough you invited her to come down to the lake with you again though you shooed the pixies away from it first so the both of you could skinny dip in piece, it was the first time you'd been naked in front of her for a good while though and since she was now your 'girlfriend' it felt just a bit weird. ♡

♡ She on the other hand was thrilled to finally be free from the heat, having to lay in bed and be wrapped in so many bandages couldn't have been comfortable in the summer heat so her focus on just being in the cool water did help you feel a bit less self conscious, she was your girlfriend though so you couldn't help but make just a bit of a move, still being careful around her stomach. ♡

"Lisha, please slow down, you'll hurt yourself." She pouted still trying to make out with you more aggressively meanwhile you tried to keep this session on the lighter side so the dumbass wouldn't undo all the hard work you'd put into her recovery.

"I want to kiss my wifey though baby, can't I please have that?" You closed your eyes so her pretty face wouldn't tempt you any further, this was for her own good as much as it pained you. You wouldn't do her any good to hurt herself and then possibly have to still be here in the fall rains, it didn't hurt you but she'd get even sicker, she had to get out of here before the end of summer.

"Not a chance, you fool." You smiled giving her a kiss on the nose and swimming away from her.

♡ Week ten she was fully ready to go but you couldn't bring yourself to clear her to leave, you'd send her away closer to when the summer was actually ending, you'd just barely became able to cuddle with her at night, you weren't ready to lose it so quickly. This was bad for the balance, you had a role to play and she had a role she had to play somewhere outside your forest, you couldn't keep her if things were to run smoothly but you wanted to bask in the fantasy for just a moment longer until she suggested you leave your forest with her when she healed up. ♡

♡ You could no longer pretend things would go on forever, you couldn't stay in the moment when this moment when it was a very brief flicker in your eternal lifespan, you couldn't leave your forest and she couldn't stay in your forest forever and so it had to end, she wasn't taking very well to you trying to end things however. ♡

"Baby you don't mean that! You're just scared of leaving this place but I already promised I'd protect you, it'll be okay!" She threw herself at your feet trying to get you to take back the break up, it wasn't true, you didn't mean it, you were just uhh scared for your futures together, you could make this work, please don't leave her!

"I think it's best you leave next week." You pulled your leg away from her deciding to go to the lake for awhile so you wouldn't have to see her crying face and feel you made a mistake. You loved her but there was an order to things, you had different places in that order, you were always doomed to fail.

"Baby, I love you!" She wailed watching you walk off, it's okay, she'd give you distance to get through your fears and you'd realize you were safer with her, there'd be no more bandits to attack you as long as she was around, it'd be okay.

♡ She thought you would apologize but the entire eleventh week she spent there you didn't even look at her, let alone talk to her and you brushed off all her attempts to converse and convince you leaving was the best thing for you to do, she had no choice but to begin to pack and hope something about her packing would inspire you to want to talk to her again. ♡

♡ You couldn't look at her, if you did you might give in to her charming face and that would throw everything out of wack, you were steadfast in your decision to stay here and if you wanted to remain steadfast, you couldn't look at your now ex-girlfriend, her being that pretty really was dangerous to the natural order of things, you were shocked she hadn't seduced more immortals away from their forests but maybe they just weren't as stupid as you and didn't drag a really pretty girl into their forest to treat their wounds. You'd be a lot less miserable right now if you'd left her be. ♡

"I'm leaving, baby, won't you please come with me?" She knew the answer was going to be no and it was all this stupid forests fault, if this forest didn't exist you would have came with her no question but it wasn't easy to get you to realize this forest wasn't worth your protection, she had to make you see just how fragile the forest was, why would you protect something that could be destroyed at a moments notice after, if your forest was destroyed you'd lose all your animal friends and then you'd really have to go with her, even if the forest would regrow in a year, you wouldn't be able to handle that much loneliness and she knew it so when you shook your head she turned and left prepared to get you to step foot outside this stupid place.

♡ It was the twelfth week of summer and you felt truly alone, not even your pixie friends could wake you from your stupor, you missed her so bad even though you'd burn that bridge awhile ago. It felt like week twelve and week thirteen just blended into themselves with how sad you were until you woke to the smell of fire one night on the last day of summer in your small forest. ♡

♡ Your home burned so fast you couldn't figure out what to do, rushing to the edge of your forest scared of the fire touching you, if seemed to be magical consider how fast your trees burned and while you would be fine if normal fire touched you, you were scared of the pain you would feel if it touched you, so scared you didn't question Elisha being camped just a bit outside of your forest who leaped up to get you when she saw the first spreading behind you in the distance, so scared you didn't even question how you'd willingly jumped from the forest boundary and into her arms. All that mattered was her promise to protect you. ♡

#yandere oc #yandere lesbian #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere scenarios #my oc elisha

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pureheartcreativity · 10 months

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Drink With Me (Eomer x reader)

This is my first reader insert fic in ages so please forgive me if it’s not that great. On the other hand I've found my love of writing again so hopefully I'll carry on and proceed to improve as I go on!

I was watching Les Mis a while back and some of the music made me think of certain parts of Lord Of The rings and really liked the idea of ‘drink with me’ being before the battle of the Pelenor fields. Anyway I had planned to write a long fic at one point but I just cant think of how to tie together individual stories. So nothing romantic happens to be honest (just making eyes at each other mildly) You are an elf in this story though (Or there are mild mentions of you being an elf) Anyway I hope you enjoy the small amount I have written! Warnings - consumption of alcohol and manly angst!

You see him sat there, the glow of the fire light dancing across his face that was etched in deep worry his golden-brown eyes following the movements of nearby people in the camp as they busied themselves preparing for the for the inevitable ride to battle upon the rising of the sun at dawn. His own had gently cups his bearded chin his thumb rubbing over his lips as his thoughts seemed to take him. His eyes venture upwards when a tankard of ale id held before him then your view of the golden-haired man is blocked as a soldier of Rohan speaks with a hearty warming voice about past successes in war. You shift your position giving some positive reassurance to a young-looking soldier, passing by with a saddle looking particularly distressed. You look back to where Eomer had been sat to see him now stood with the tankard of ale in his hands his golden-brown eyes filled with a hint of hope, laughter, and reminiscence. A smile pulls of your fair features as you see this. Your elven ways were so different than that of men and yet you were enchanted by their ability to find joy and laughter of the knife edge of war. You took your eyes off Eomer to busy yourself with polishing the already pristine elven horse armour to distract yourself from conflicting thoughts. This was short lived though as one of the Rohirrum raised their own tankard into the air and spoke with a voice of confidence “Drink with me” resounding in a reply of cheerful grunts from men, drawing your attention back to less troubled Eomer too raising his own tankard.

‘Drink with me. To days gone by

Sing with me the songs we knew.

Here’s to pretty girls that went to our heads.

Here’s to witty girls that went to our beds.

Here’s to them and here’s to you’.

The conversation was loud but full of laughter as the soldiers teased each other about past encounters in their pursuit of women hues of pink mixing with the glow of orange upon each face of the men as they regaled in the tales. Your own cheeks and the tips of your pointed ears flushed pink at the humility of the conversations, that pink turning more of a beet red as you herd the mention of the golden-haired man.

“Eomer I’m sure has had his share of tales of young maidens he has successfully pursued in his time growing into the fine man he has become” An older man spoke his silver flecked beard full of crumbs for the food he had been eating laughing after he had spoken causing the brown eyed prince to blush beneath his golden facial hair. You didn’t know why but it made you sad to think of Eomer pursuing other people. He was you dearest friend and yet he had always failed to mention of any women of interest in his life to you. You had always assumed he had never found the right person, but he was at an age that his uncle would see him married to a suitor, through preferably of Eomer’s choice.

“Aye Eomer is the lord of all chivalry and could make young maidens fall to his feet with a single sentence” Another man about the same age as Eomer with dark hair slapped the brown-eyed prince on the back in a friendly manner causing the golden haired prince to splutter his mouthful of ale out, his cheeks now burning a bright red as he made eye contact with you a mixed look of embarrassment and guilt playing on his face as if he had done something terribly wrong, yet you knew he hadn’t. “But alas” The dark-haired young man spoke again placing his hand on his chest dramatically and bending to a knee bolstering the prince having taken notice of where he was looking. “Eomer shall leave a string of broken hearts behind him as he saves himself only for the lady who has stolen his heart from him” The dark-haired soldier feigned dramatic pain clutching at his chest feigning to be an inconsolable maiden all the while checking to see that you were still watching as Eomer’s face flushed deeper matching your own colour. It was only the gentle tug on your cloak that broke your concentration as a tankard was placed into your own hands by the young soldier that you had reassured. You gave a not of thanks and allowed the young man to stand beside you to continue to listen to the conversations ahead.

“Jest not. Men will die out there tomorrow” Another of the older soldiers spoke with treat and worry, bringing the severity of the night back to a troubling one.

‘Drink with me. To days gone by

To the life, that used to be.

Let the shrine of friendship never say die.

Let the wine of friendship never run dry.

Here’s to you and Here’s me’.

The sense was more dire in the camp again the pink and red faces had turned very pale very quickly as if ailment had taken them. “Men will die. Families will lose a father, a husband, a son, and all in middle earth will be doomed” The older man spoke again feeling the depth of the situation weigh heavily on him. A silence fell like that you would find of a death filled battlefield after a victory or loss. “If those in care of the one ring are successful there is still the cost of death on all lands” The man spoke again the breaths of men audible in the silence of the night air. You eye this man carefully and so with careful calculated steps come to the centre of the group carefully cradling your own tankard of ale considering the amber liquid inside before looking up standing tall and proud as if you were addressing a squadron of your own elven warriors. “Death must come to all in our turn. Hope is only lost if we chose to fear it” You speak in the hopes to restore life and joy into the group that had gathered, yet there was a firm uncertainty still lingering in the air.

“That’s easy for an immortal to say” The older man all but spat at you eyeing you like you were a danger to the company he kept. You look down at the tankard full of amber ale again inhaling the smoky sweet scent and the words came to you in a simple sweep. You raise your head from its stare into the liquid that reminded you of the brown eyed prince who had his eyes firmly fixed on you with questioning, and a little bit of frustration.

“Drink with me?” You speak unsure of your actions rendering the company around you completely speechless. Elves were far more serious than men in war situations and usually you were no exception to that and now you stood offering a drink with the men of Rohan, a surprise to even yourself. Then you found your confidence as the brown eyes staring directly into your own (Y/EC) softened encouraging to on with your words. “Drink with me” It was less of a question now and more of a statement as you raised the tankard enthusiastically some of the amber liquid sloshing over the rim onto your hand causing it to tingle pleasantly.

‘Drink with me. To days gone by

To the Life that used to be

Let the shrine of friendship never say die.

Let the wine of friendship never run dry.

Here’s to you and here’s to me.’.

Eomer immediately came to your side after your second request to drink with the men of Rohan sliding one arm around your waist and raising his own half full tankard with his free hand taking you up on the offer before lowering his tankard guiding you to do the same and clinking his against yours and taking a large gulp from his drink his eyes never leaving yours. You too took a long sip from your own drink enjoying your closeness with the golden-haired prince in this time, so much so you hadn’t noticed the group too talking drinks from their own tankard until Eomer pointed it out by gesturing to the group around them with his drink.

“The free peoples of middle earth will fall” you spoke again but this time with men more willing to listen to your more freeing words. “But middle earth will be free. Families will be cared for, and the dead will be honoured in the finest halls of the Valar” You speak valiantly eliciting a cheer from the drinking men. It was with this that the night blew over with joyful tales told across the encampment leading to the dawn and the mighty charge to war at the Peleonor Fields.

#Eomer x reader #eomer #Rohan #cute idea #lotr #lord of the rings #lord of the rings fanfiction #battle of the pelennor fields

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birdie-told-me · 4 months

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Red Sky at Night (D&D Fic, ~7.5k words)

Fandom: Dungeons & Dragons (homebrew setting)

Rating: Explicit Summary: On the final morning of the holy festival of Truatonalia, Faustine, a priestess of Truatoni is drawn to the seashore. What she finds there is unexpected

Contents: M/F; tiefling female x water genasi male; oral, handjob

Header art by vampariart!

Faustine is intensely aware of the approach of the festival’s third day: the Veneration of the Sea. The closer it gets, the more she feels that tug, deep within her, to venture down the rocky cliffside to the shore, to immerse herself in the crashing surf, allowing the salt water to overtake her. Twice, now, she has felt the elemental power of the Storm Maiden coursing through her, having been struck with divine lightning in both the holy Grove and the Temple, and received boons thereafter. She imagines submitting to the power of the sea would carry a similar terrifying thrill, the same new empowerment afterward.

The sea is both refuge and restlessness.

It is a constant, ever-present. The sound of waves crashing upon the cliffs beneath her window had been her first lullaby. The smell of it on the air is a familiar comfort. The sea featured in her earliest hopes and dreams: a promise of freedom, carrying her away from all of her unhappiness.

It is a mystery, ever-changing. Its churning waters reflect the Storm Maiden’s moods: sometimes peaceful, sometimes violent. Its currents tug on the hearts of those connected to it, pulling them from the stability of home, imbuing them with wanderlust, yearning to embark on its rippling waters.

Naridius carries the sea with him. On his ship it hadn’t been as obvious, surrounded as they were by the thing itself, but here in the city, it clings to him even as it releases everyone else. His skin, his hair, even the air around him - he smells of a fresh salt breeze. His skin is the color of the sea on a warm, inviting summer day, and glistens enticingly with droplets of water, as if he has always just emerged from beneath the surf. His hair is a riot of seafoam: pale, tumbling curls forming a corona around his head, setting off the lovely aqua shade of his skin, giving him the look of a cresting wave. She longs to run her fingers through it.

She knows the Maiden would not begrudge her this, but resisting the lure is a habit borne of years of practice even before she swore her life to the goddess. Faustine has always been an expert at resisting temptation. Too cautious has she been, seeing Fierna’s phantom smirk behind every opportunity for pleasure. Too frightened to give in and allow herself to slip for even a moment and open the door for infernal influence. (Not to mention, of course, the thought of baring herself in such a way. Being seen beneath the swathes of fabric she always keeps her body concealed by). She has trained herself to be as remote and untouchable as the clouds.

But, she thinks, what if I want to be touched?

She has grown accustomed to it, lately, and she must admit, she craves it more now that she knows what she was missing. So many years of her life spent isolated, contact with others limited only to the most necessary of functions. Now she travels among friends who do not flinch when she reaches out a hand to touch them, even if said hand does not carry a spell to bolster them. She is still cautious, always watching for the slightest indication that her flesh is an unwelcome presence among theirs. But she has not seen one yet. And Naridius….

He had asked her to dance on the first night of the festival. Despite having invited him earlier in the day to come find her, she had still been surprised and a little flustered. She is not graceful - never was lithe and delicate, and now even less so since separating body and spirit, never fully fitting the two back together even after leaving the Astral Plane - but he did not seem to mind her stumbling feet and her flushed cheeks. He had offered his hand, and when she took it, pulled her against the solid planes of his body.

Never had she been pressed so intimately against another. She hardly knew how to process the feeling of his muscle against hers, his hand resting on the curve of her hip, his sturdy shoulder under the hand she had drawn up to steady herself. A faint buzzing filled her ears, and she is quite certain her face went slack for a moment as she felt his warm breath against her skin. But the lively music wound its way to her ears, sparking her senses back to life and drawing a smile to her lips. She cannot pretend that their dancing was in any way polished or worthy of spectators, but she found that she did not care. It was enough to feel the rush of joy as she clutched him to her, allowing him to twirl her through the crowd. She tilted her head back and offered her delighted laughter to the heavens. She reveled in the feeling of him moving with her, against her, alongside her, as the music swept them up. He was close enough that his lovely curls brushed against her cheek, releasing a burst of his clean, fresh scent, and she wished she could breathe him in forever.

Inevitably their dance had ended too soon - duty had called her away, and Naridius had melted back into the crowd. She found herself cold and irritable, resenting her friends and their silly foibles for drawing her away from the moment of happiness she had managed to snatch. Perhaps she was harsher than she ought to have been with them, but she found it difficult to tolerate their continued foolishness as she enviously noted other couples slinking away from the crowd with clasped hands and furtive caresses. Her night would not end with such a tryst.

(In fact, her night had ended with a shadow fiend stalking her through the city streets and trying to kill her instead. But such is the life of an adventurer.)

The second day of Truatonalia had been a whirlwind worthy of her goddess. Official duties beginning very early in the day, blessing and cleansing and above all trying to retain a dignified yet approachable manner. And once the ceremonies were over, she was pulled from event to event, presiding over games and races and contests, all the while spending every spare moment shoring up what support she could from the various noble houses, wheedling and charming and complimenting and persuading. It was a relief when the evening performance finally came around and she could simply let loose and confront her problems with spellcasting and trident.

But now, in the silent predawn hours of the third morning, she feels that tug again. An urge to head down to the shore and submerge herself. While she has proven herself inconsistent at best when remembering the official rituals and ceremonies Maurina taught her, her individual veneration of the Storm Maiden has always been guided by urges like this: an insistent feeling that she ought to be doing something, allowing her intuition to guide her through the Maiden’s desires. And in this time, at the height of her patron’s power, on her holiest of days, who is she to deny a calling?

She forgoes the heavy regalia she wears at most ceremonies - the robes of fine-woven chain and the fearsome breastplate. She does not need her shield. There is a moment when she lingers over the trident, but ultimately she decides to go empty-handed, trusting in the goddess to protect her. Instead she dresses only in the gauzy linen stola she had worn to the cleansing ceremony. The air is balmy enough she does not wrap a palla about her before she sneaks out of the villa.

The path down the cliffside is one that her feet remember from years of childhood antics, and so she picks her way down easily. Even the few times she stumbles over scattered pebbles or slickened rocks, the wind itself seems to lift her and prevent a fall. She closes her eyes and smiles into the breeze as it pushes fallen locks of hair from her face: this is how her goddess shows her love.

When she reaches the bottom, the sea is gentle and the tide is low enough to have revealed a minuscule beach - no more than a narrow bar of sand and some flat rocks. Soft waves rock back and forth, lapping at her feet with only the barest of splashes. She removes her sandals and steps in, wading out into the brine. The water lifts the gossamer fabric of her skirt and saturates it until one can hardly tell the difference between cloth and sea. It clings and drapes around her legs and she cannot resist the contented smile that tugs at her lips: she is clothed in seawater. Her tail loosens from its habitual coil around her ankle, and she allows it to float behind her as she wades deeper, up to her hips, where her fingertips can skim the surface of the water as it ripples around her. She swirls her fingers in a semblance of somatic spellcasting, leaving eddies and ripples in their wake.The water is warm as it slips and slides against her, rising up from hips to waist as she ventures deeper and deeper. Tendrils of seaweed brush against her legs. With a laugh, she tilts her head back to the sky and raises her arms in exultation, droplets of water trailing from them in streamers. The official public rituals for the festival are so rigid and unyielding; this spontaneous private ritual feels more like true worship, delighting in the Maiden’s domain on a personal level.

A sudden noise startles her, and she whips her head around to spot its source, instinctively crouching so that she is nearly immersed in the water as she scans the shore. He is easy to find, even in the dim predawn light; his bright, dewy skin picks up and scatters the last reflected glints of moonlight. He seems as surprised by her presence as she is by his. From this distance, she cannot quite make out the expression on his face, but his posture is hesitant, weight rocked back on one foot, hand raised slightly in surprise, as if to fend off an attack. For a moment she wonders if she should be upset that he has interrupted her communion with the sea, but she finds she cannot bring herself to be.

“I - I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean - “ His voice calls out from shore, more hesitant than she has ever heard him. He is backing up, his hands now both before him in a placating gesture. “I didn’t know you were - I just -“ She is struck by the realization that she doesn’t want him to leave. She feels that same tug deep in her belly that drew her to this place, drawing her to him. Her legs straighten to her full height once more, water sluicing up off her as she emerges, holding her hands out to him in a pose that mirrors his, beseeching.

“Wait!” She winces at the tone of command in her voice, and softens it. “You can stay.”

She picks her way carefully back to shore, somehow more difficult in this direction than it was on the way in. The rocks feel slicker and the tide slightly higher, while the waves beat with more intensity now, kicking up little splashes against her sides. He is rooted in place, watching her approach. He has not spoken again, but his hands have dropped limply to his sides, and his lips are parted. Only when her feet touch sand rather than rock does she let her own hands drop, tilting her head as she watches him in turn. The silence is heavy, and she cannot think of the proper words to break it, so she takes another tentative step toward him instead.

The tiny strip of sand is barely large enough for them both to stand on, but he does not back away. He, too, seems caught up in the hazy atmosphere, unwilling or unable to cut through it with a word. The only sound around them is the steady rushing of the sea, and the rustling of a gentle breeze. The air around them feels thick and charged, as if a storm is about to break.

He is staring at her. His eyes dart back and forth, from horns to lips to eyes to décolletage. She is suddenly very aware of the way her dress clings to her, translucent and waterlogged. There is but a momentary twitch of her fingertips, ready to call a swirl of fog to cover herself, but she defiantly forces herself to allow him to look. She wants him to look. She wants to keep looking at him. The expression on his face is one of…adoration. Nobody has ever looked at her with that expression before, and the realization is a bittersweet twinge that catches in her breast.

The hand he lifts is slow enough to give her time to back away. She does not. His fingertips graze her cheekbone with such tenderness it feels much like the caress of a gentle breeze. She closes her eyes and tilts her head, leaning into that touch so that his fingers tangle into the curls at her temple and his palm cups her cheek. Like this, she can feel the rough calluses of his sailor’s hands, can hear the rasp of his breath so close to her, can sense the heat of his body leaning infinitesimally closer. She opens her eyes to find them locked to his. She has stared down dragons and her heart did not race as fast as it does now.

“Can I - ?” He starts to ask, and she has not even registered the words themselves before she is nodding and he is drawing her closer with the hand still wrapped in the long strands of her hair, his other hand cupping the back of her neck as his lips meet hers with a frizzle of lightning that whisks her breath away. She is dizzy. She is floating. She steadies herself by grasping on to his broad shoulders. Their bodies align so naturally, curve against slope against plane. She cannot press herself close enough, though she tries, molding herself into him the way water fills a vessel. Her arms drape atop his shoulders and she finally, finally threads her fingers through those seafoam curls that have been enticing her for weeks. They are as luxurious as she had imagined.

She does not know how long they stand like that, entwined together, with the rising waves lapping at their ankles, but it is not long enough before she must pull her mouth away, panting and gasping. They part just enough that she can see how wide his pupils have grown, black overtaking so much of his eyes that they almost resemble her own. His cheeks are flushed and for some reason the pink at the tip of his regal nose causes her heart to swell so much she can hardly contain herself. She grins, a smile broad enough he can surely see the sharpened canines she is usually so careful to conceal. A huff of startled laughter escapes him in return. His eyes are wide and his jaw a little slack, but he does not make any move to escape her embrace. Instead, he moves his hands, careful as he untangles them from her hair, and brings them to cradle her cheeks reverently before bestowing the most chaste of kisses upon her.

“Come sit down,” he says, his voice roughened and deep. He trails his fingers down her arms until they interlace with her own, and he draws her toward one of the flattened rocks framing their little sand bar. She obliges, though her brow crinkles and her mouth twists into a moue of displeasure when their bodies are no longer pressed together. The distance between them serves to remind her of the state of her dress - the air rushes in to the empty space and chills the soaked cloth, causing a wave of goosebumps to ripple over her.

The rock he leads her to is conveniently sized and shaped, large enough for them both to recline on, low enough to step onto without trouble, and situated up against the cliffside such that one could comfortably lean against it. She does not know enough about stonecutting to tell whether it has been formed naturally or purposefully carved out, but she finds she does not really care. If this is a place for trysts, it must be only fitting that she has been called here, and a partner as well. There is no room for serendipity during the holy days. In the pause as she steps onto the stone and seats herself, she takes a moment to consider why the goddess would arrange such a thing. This does not feel like a command - the itching feeling at the back of her mind when the Maiden desires her to do something specific is not present. This feels more like…approval. Encouragement? Relief rushes over her and loosens the tension in her limbs she didn’t realize had crept in: this is still her choice - she can walk away if she wants to.

The sight of Naridius kneeling beside her is enough to remind her that she wishes to stay. His lips are swollen and his tunic is askew. Her fingers carding through his hair have left it wild and untamed, and as he leans in toward her, she is struck again by that thought that he is the sea itself, a foam-capped wave come to engulf her. She had come here this morning to embrace the sea and she decides to do just that, pulling him to her so that she can reach his lips once again. The fine silk of his tunic crumples as she clutches at him, but he does not seem to mind; he is too busy complying with her unspoken plea.

His mouth is warm and gentle against hers, his kisses soft and lingering as he cradles her face between his palms. While she finds this perfectly lovely, she can feel the restrained tension in him beneath her hands. She pulls back for a moment and looks at him directly, taking in the whole of him. Instantly, he also draws away, putting more space between them, and for a moment she is hurt before she realizes that he is following her lead, taking things slowly to make sure she is comfortable. He is holding back for her. She licks her lips, uncertain of how to encourage him.

“You can - “ her voice is husky and raw. She tries to make a gesture to encompass the two of them, and gives a helpless little shrug, unable to even begin to find the words to tell him everything she wants. “If you want. Don’t worry.”

He hesitates, weighing her words, so she underscores them by drawing him close once more, pressing her fingers firmly into his flesh. This time, he surges back into her like a wave crashing upon the rocks. No longer confined to gentle caresses of her hair and cheeks, his hands roam their way down her body, electrifying her skin in their wake. Every place he touches sears with heat - her throat, her ribs, her hips. The chill on her skin dissipates as he replaces it with delicious warmth that seeps through her, soaking in to her muscles and pooling deep within her very core.

His mouth strays from her lips and down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, alternating between kissing and sucking and licking. She gasps at a spot that sends a jolt through her, and he rewards her by lingering there, running his tongue over it again and again as she moans her encouragement. But then he is moving on, raining kisses across her collar and to the spot at her shoulder where her fibula pins her dress in place. He pauses and shoots a glance up at her, but makes quick work of unfastening the pin as he sees she is already nodding, reaching for the brooch at her other side.

The sodden linen of her stola sticks to her skin, so he must strip the fabric away in order to reveal her breasts, and the exposure causes her nipples to tighten into peaks in the open air. Her tail flicks nervously as he stops and stares, and she almost moves to cover herself once more, but she allows him to continue unimpeded. Now his movements are slowed by reverence rather than reluctance. He is caressing and stroking the sides of her breasts, murmuring praises to the softness of her skin, the firmness of her flesh. He presses his lips to the exposed column of her throat and sucks that same spot that had stolen her breath before, while his thumb grazes across a nipple. The air she sucks in is a sharp hiss, and her back arches instinctively, offering him more access. He accepts her offer, granting her a deluge of attentions as he rolls the hardened nub between his fingertips, pinching and squeezing first one, then the other, as she writhes beneath him. The sharp, insistent burst of pleasure tinged with pain contrasts so keenly with the sensuous rolling of his tongue along her neck. Her hands roam, searching for something to clutch on to, sliding over the broad musculature of his arms and shoulders and chest.

Their legs are a tangle, hers still wrapped in gauzy seasoaked fabric. She can feel little splashes spraying her feet as the sea churns beneath them, waves crashing more insistently upon their rocky refuge. Naridius, emboldened, bestows her with a searing whirlwind of lips and tongue against hers that she hurries to follow, returning his intensity with her own. There is a perplexed wrinkle on his brow when he breaks away from her to catch his breath, and his hand comes up to cup her jaw, thumb pulling down at her lip so that her mouth drops open for him. She is confused until she realizes he is peering at her tongue. Before the mortification can even begin to creep through her, he is grinning, returning to his ministrations, unperturbed by the revelation that the tongue that slides against his is forked in two.

It takes her a moment to catch up, overwhelmed as she is by the dizzying series of emotions this conjures. She tries to cut them off and focus only on the sensations as he works his way back down her body with both hands and mouth. The wonderful frisson of lightning under her skin in every place he touches. The building warmth that is smouldering and pulsing within her, shooting sparks through her veins. The solidity of his body as it presses against hers. She is mostly successful, though tears do still prick at her eyes as she registers the words he is whispering against her skin: murmured homages to her beauty, her power, her perfection. This last, spoken as his questing mouth finds a nipple and engulfs it in the most delicious wet heat she has ever felt, sucking and licking and scraping his teeth against it, making her writhe with pleasure.

He is terribly attentive, lingering in each place or with each motion that draws a gasp or a twitch or a moan from her, until she is squirming and desperate and ready to melt. She ceases to notice where precisely he has aimed his regard, drowning as she is in bliss. It does not matter which part of her he encounters; each of them is met with the same intent adulation. She is free to float upon a sea of sensation, basking in his worship.

He makes quick work of the girdle that cinches her dress at her waist, and she hurries to help him tug away the garment once its ties are released. She is fully exposed, no barriers between her skin and the outside world. However, she barely notes this momentous occasion, distracted as she is by the feeling of his mouth moving down her stomach and over hipbones, fingers pressing in to the flesh of her thighs, urging her to allow him access to the depths between them. When her legs part instinctively, he bolts forward to lavish her with even more rapturous attention.

This is the overwhelming, elemental force she came down to the shore to experience. She is surrounded everywhere by the essence of the rising sea - the brine of it filling her nostrils, her ears rushing with a roar that evokes the wildest of squalls, her blood pulsing with the rhythm of her waterborn partner between her thighs as his curly seafoam head bobs and retreats back and forth in time with the waves that beat against their rocky refuge. Her hands bury themselves in his hair and her tail winds reflexively around him, attempting to draw him closer, to hold him in place as he does something with his tongue that shoots bright white lightning through her entire body. The wordless gasps and pants that emerge from her meld into and are swallowed up by the sounds of the seascape. The waves are high enough that the water has begun to break over the ledge of their stone more consistently, sending salty surges of seawater lapping against her skin in counterpoint to the lapping of the skilled tongue occupied at her most intimate parts.

She cannot help the blasphemous words that flash through her mind: divine, glorious… ecstasy.

While his mouth has dedicated itself to a single spot, his hands have not been idle. They work their way over her thighs and hips, kneading, squeezing, pressing, stroking. Teasing fingers swipe over the more sensitive parts of her skin, drawing closer to where his lips and tongue continue their clever work, causing her to shudder and clutch at him. This appears to spur him on, his efforts redoubled as one arm hooks her knee over his shoulder and the other tugs at her hips to change their angle.

Her horns clatter against the stone of the cliff as she throws her head back. She didn’t know it could feel even better, but somehow it does, the new position of his tongue against her pressing so perfectly her vision begins to blur. Those nimble fingertips draw patterns and circles around her entrance, tempting her with the prospect of delving within, but he withholds them. Coherent thoughts have ceased to flow through her mind, replaced only by a litany of Ohs and Pleases and Mores that fall from her lips like scattered drops of rain, but a sudden thought does break through the haze with striking clarity: If he is the Sea, then you are the Storm.

The Sea may be master of its own currents and tides, but the Storm may descend and enact its whims upon it, changing courses and churning up the waters. Her hands cannot quite reach his from this distance, but her tail wraps its way around his wrist and leads him to the place she most needs to feel him. His startled hum of approval reverberates through her as he wets his fingers with the slick moisture that has gathered there. The foot she has draped over his shoulder presses in to his back, urging him on, while her hands, still threaded through his riotous curls, position his mouth exactly where she wants it.

He concedes to her demands, finally dipping his fingers inside her just as she has arranged his head to her liking. The combination of sensations overcomes her, and she cannot help the immediate rocking of her hips or the scraping of his scalp with her nails as her fingers clench, scrabbling for something to anchor her as she feels herself start to come apart at the seams. He continues his onslaught, steady as the pulsing waves surrounding them, and it is not long before she is cresting, breaking on the rocks alongside them, swept up in the tide that has welled up within her. The lightning in her veins buzzes through every part of her, setting her lips and fingers and toes tingling, contracting her muscles, searing through her vision with a blaze of white. She can only gasp and allow it to wash over her. It is not unlike the times she has been struck by holy lightning, only this time there is no pain, just throbbing waves of pleasure that shock their way through her over and over.

He does not pull away until she has settled. Her limbs loosen and her fingers unthread from the locks of hair they had wound around themselves, and finally his tongue stills. When he lifts his face to look up at her, it catches at her heart, sending a sharp ache darting through her breast. He is so beautiful, with his wide, dark eyes and his tousled hair and his slickened mouth. The expression of exaltation as he stares at her is too much for her to bear.

She tugs at him and pulls him so that their bodies align once more, face-to-face, and presses her lips languidly against his. She can feel the hardened flesh of him against her hip. While he does not press her to do anything about it, she understands that he remains wound tight, has not reached the same heady release as she has. Though she can admit to herself that she finds the prospect daunting, she finds that she still wants to try. Wants to do for him what he has done for her, to fill him with the same rapturous delight. She licks her lips and murmurs against his cheek,

“I’d like to return the favor. Will you guide me?”

The breath he lets out is half laughter, half groan. His hips give a little jerk against her, but his tone is sincere.

“You don’t have to.”

“Please. I want to.”

Another soft sound that might be a laugh as he nuzzles his cheek along hers. His voice is pitched low and she can feel it vibrate through her as he responds, lips catching and brushing at her earlobe.

“Then I would be a fool to deny you.”

This is met with a laugh of her own, and she turns her head to catch his lips again. There is a momentary pause as they adjust, shuffling positions so that he is now leaning against the cliffside, Faustine kneeling between the splayed V of his legs. He takes the opportunity to remove his tunic, folding it and solicitously offering it as a cushion between her knees and the rough ledge they sit upon. She bites her lip, touched by this concern for her comfort. Her whispered thanks are heartfelt.

She finds she isn’t sure where to begin, now that the whole of him is spread before her, clad only in his undergarment. Expanses of enticing skin and planes of perfectly-sculpted musculature call out to her, but she cannot decide what to touch first, overwhelmed by choice. He waits, patiently, allowing her the time to move when she is ready, but she can see the heavy rise and fall of his chest belying his desire.

The water that always glistens from his skin is more pronounced now, enhanced by the spray of sea, so that tiny streams drip down in captivating rivulets that her eyes track greedily. She watches as one curves around the swell of his pectoral and she barely realizes that she has leaned forward to catch it on her tongue, swiping up to follow its sinuous path to the place where his shoulder curves into his neck. She cannot tell if the burst of salt on her tongue is from him or the seawater, but she hums in delight either way.

The long straight column of his neck is before her now, and she laves her way up the side, collecting more droplets as she goes. With her hands braced on either side of him, the change in position brings her breasts up to skim along the skin of his chest, sending a little shiver of pleasure through her that is echoed in him as well. She pauses at this realization, before bringing her lips to close around an earlobe with the softest scrape of teeth. He shifts and sighs. She never was a very good student, but she finds that this is a skill for which she has an aptitude - her perceptiveness and insightfulness giving her the advantage she needs to fumble her way through it. She might not have the experience of having done this before, of knowing where to touch or how, but she can at least catalogue his reactions and find out what pleases him the most.

She draws her hands up his sides, caressing his ribs, his shoulders, down his arms, reveling in the feel of the smooth muscle padded by just enough soft flesh while her mouth remains at his neck. Her lips tingle with exquisite friction as they drag over his skin. Her tongue rolls over the taut tendons he has stretched out as he tilts his head back to invite her to continue. She moves slowly, achingly aware of every minute twitch, every catch of his breath, every groan that escapes him. She finds which swirling motions of her tongue cause him to gasp, and which spot beneath his jaw makes his hands come up and fist in her hair. She passes over his chest with long, broad swipes, and finds that she can make him tremble and call out her name with a strangled moan if she catches a nipple between the two bisected halves of her tongue. His sides seem ticklish so she is more firm in her attentions to them as they lead her to the peaks of hipbones just barely jutting out from the cloth wrapped round his loins. She presses her lips reverently to the hollows they create, and his hips rock in response.

While it cannot be said that she has ever truly been frightened in her life, she does find the mystery of what lies beneath his last remaining article of clothing to be a bit too much to tackle just yet, and so she passes over it, moving on to find what spots on the insides of his thighs are most sensitive. Hands and lips and tongue roam together down the long stretch of muscle between one hip and knee, before switching sides and making the return journey from knee to hip. The scent of him is deeper here, muskier rather than salt-sharp, and the damp heat coming off of his skin is thicker. There is a particularly beautiful curve of flesh along the inside of his leg, a lovely soft place that calls out for her to sink her teeth into. She gives in to this urge, and is rewarded by a cry that is wrested from his throat - an “Aaah!” of both shock and pleasure as his hands clutch at her head. The jolt of his hips this time brushes the cloth-covered bulge of him against her cheek, and she is struck with a burning satisfaction beneath her breast at the contact. Her tail gives an involuntary swish behind her.

She lifts her head and looks up at him, soaking in the picture of his flung-back head and his scrunched brow and his flushed cheeks. He is drenched in seawater now, the waves having grown fiercer and the tide higher in their time here, and it only accentuates his otherworldly charm. Her fingers brush at the folds of cloth at his hips, accompanied by a tilt of the head and a raised eyebrow.

“Yes. Please,” he hisses through clenched teeth.

She merely hums her acknowledgment of his plea, but does not immediately act on her unspoken request. Instead she continues to run her fingers over the cloth, exploring the topography of him that has yet to be revealed. His restraint is sorely tested, and he cannot refrain from the eager twitches of his hips as she ghosts the softest of touches across him. She rises back up onto her knees proper, and straddles one of his legs, bringing her lips up to his ear and leaning into him so that they are chest to chest, skin to skin. Her tail winds around his leg behind her. She braces one hand against his shoulder, while the other works its way beneath his undergarment and presses her palm flat against that part of him she has been avoiding, surprised at the rigidity she meets. Her fingers curl around him, drawn to the shocking silkiness and warmth of his skin.

“Will you show me? What you like?” she whispers, more breath than voice.

His hands are instantly upon the knots keeping the cloth tied in place, working at them with not a little desperation. She keeps her hand still in the meantime, wondering at the feel of him in her palm, marveling at the texture beneath her fingertips. While she is not completely ignorant of what lies between a man’s legs, no bathhouse fresco or bawdy song had prepared her for this reality. Inexplicably, she feels saliva pooling in her mouth. Her fingers squeeze just a bit and she feels an answering throb beneath them. She muffles her gasp into the hair at his temple. Finally, he works the knots free and he is unclothed, completely.

She pulls back from him just enough that she can peer down as his hand wraps over her own, showing her how tight to grip, how to move her hand over him. The only word that comes to mind is ridiculously apropos: fascinating. Her attention is rapt, focused on this single point between them as she follows his lead in pumping, squeezing, stroking. Though mostly obscured by their entwined hands, she can see enough of him to admire the becoming proportions - this is no comedically engorged phallus in a farce, nor a demure, flaccid one on a public sculpture. She can feel the blood pumping through him, and it seems to match her own heartbeat thrumming in her ears. She turns her head to crush her lips against his and she imagines she can feel both of their heartbeats pulsing in time there as well. There is a rhythm shared between them that they are both caught up in, and she realizes that it is the same as the rhythm of the waves upon the shore.

“Do you want to -“ he does not even break away to speak, instead allowing his lips to continue to brush against hers with the formation of every word. Affection flushes through her when she realizes he is trying gallantly to remind her of her offer to return his favor in kind without pressing her to fulfill it.

She does want to.

It is strangely comfortable, settling herself between his legs as she does. From here, she can more clearly see the organ that had so captivated her. It truly is a stunning sight: flushed a reddish purple with hot, vigorous blood, jutting out from his body with a pleasing arc. There is a drop of fluid at the bell-headed tip, a different consistency than that she has seen on his skin before. She wraps her fingers around him once again, careful to remember the tightness he had preferred, and brings her lips up to capture that pearl of moisture. It is bitter salt that blooms on her tongue, but she does not find it unpleasant - in fact, it seems to unlock something in her, some driving desire to wring more of this from him.

His skin is so, so soft, and she delights in skimming her lips over it; no fine silk or velvet has ever felt so luscious against her - not even those she admired in the City of Brass. But she can feel his restlessness in the shift of his hips, the little groans he lets out. He is not in a state to endure her lingering, and she takes pity on him. Her tongue swipes along him in a broad, thick line from root to tip, leaving a trail of slickness in its wake. She experiments a few times with different ways she can wrap her tongue around him, searching for the one that makes him spasm and buck beneath her. It is when the two halves of her tongue split and run in tandem under the flared edge of the head that she is successful. His hips surge forward and his hands clutch at her head, grasping not at her hair as before, but along the curve of her horns.

Her mind stutters for a moment as she tries to decide whether this is acceptable or if she should shake herself free of him, but then he is using the leverage to tilt her head, to draw her back down, and the sensation clicks with some deep primal urge within her. She opens her mouth wide and takes him in, receptive to the merest pressure of his hands on her horns, as if she is his ship, guided by his steering oar.

The feeling of her lips stretched around him, of his warm, hard flesh stroking along her tongue, of being filled with him in a way she has not been before, is remarkably satisfying. Her tail swishes once back and forth in languid approval. One hand braces herself at his hipbone, and the other wraps around the base of him, steadying as she moves her head back and forth. He shudders and rocks his hips in counterpoint to her motions, thrusting deeper into her mouth, his body rising as hers is falling in a dance just as exhilarating as the one they had shared nights before.

He is speaking again - jumbled words and fragments of sentences interspersed with moans, praising her, telling her how brilliant she is, how perfect her mouth feels around him. He starts to say something rather poetic about the shape of her backside but it is cut short by his strangled cry as she swirls her tongue around the head of his phallus. She finds it easier to accept compliments like this, mouth occupied so that she does not have to stutter back her embarrassed thanks; she can merely hum and preen and duck her head to redouble her efforts, determined to earn every drop of esteem he has rained down upon her.

She raises her eyes to look up at him, to watch his face as she licks and sucks and bobs. He meets her gaze, awestruck and full of ardor, and it sends a seeping warmth spreading under her ribs. She cannot manage a smile with her lips stretched as they are, but she hopes he understands the softening of her eyes for what it is. One of his hands dislodges from her horns and cradles her cheek, caressing her cheekbone with a gentle swipe of his thumb.

Somehow, this serves to embolden her, single-minded now in her desire to bring him to completion. She is relentless in her pursuit, increasing her speed, moving her tongue in swirling patterns along his length, attuned to his every breath so that she may extract every possible drop of pleasure for him. She is the hurricane that their home is named for, bearing down upon him with unbridled fervor. He rises to meet her, matching her passion with his own. His hands are upon her horns once again, gripping tight as he buries himself between her lips, so deep that he catches the back of her throat. Her answering moan is muffled by his girth. She does not know if the moisture dripping down her face is sweat or spit or seaspray, but regardless, it eases her way, slickening both of their skin with lubrication so that she can slip up and down without resistance.

Her jaw aches and she can hardly catch enough of a breath to keep going. Her lips prickle with the beginnings of numbness. Yet none of these things matter in the face of the heady intoxication that surges through her. She can hear the change in his breathing, the new quality to his gasps that hint at his nearness. Her hand sneaks up to graze the pendulous sack that hangs between his thighs, delicately testing its weight, then rolling it along her fingers, and she is delighted by his visceral reaction.

There is a sudden frenzied haste to his movements, and he is pulling her mouth off of him, covering her pumping hand with his own to set a punishingly fast pace. She follows his lead and remains knelt in front of him, watching, waiting. Several quick strokes and his face contorts, as his member throbs in her grip. Warm ropes of pearly essence spray onto her face and chest and spatter on the ground between them, and he sags against the wall of the cliff. Bitter salt floods her mouth as the substance begins to drip, slipping between her parted lips.

She blinks. Suddenly the storm has run its course and they are in the quiet calm that follows. She rises, kneeling upright between his languorously splayed legs. Her hand is drenched in heaven knows what, and the fluid on her face tightens her skin as it cools. Leaning to rinse her hands in the churning water, she realizes that it has risen to the very edge of their stone, each successive wave threatening to be the one that covers its surface with the rising tide. She brings a cupped handful of water to her face, habitually wiping it in the motions of her ritual ablutions to cleanse it of the congealing fluid. The sky is still dim, but the horizon has taken on that hazy quality that heralds the rising of the sun. She can hear the faintest rumble of thunder approaching in the far distance and her lips curve into a jubilant smile.

He is breathing heavily, limbs hanging limp, and a fierce little flame flickers in her chest - pride at having accomplished this - tempered by an aching tenderness. Careful of the stickiness still coating her chest, she leans forward and brushes a stray lock of hair from his damp forehead. Saltwater drips from her fingers onto his cheeks: an anointing by the sea. His lashes flutter and his eyes lock in to hers. The smile he musters is sleepy, and he lets out a soft huff of not-quite-laughter as he takes in the sight of her glistening wet face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to - “

She cuts him off with a dismissive noise made between tongue and teeth. She rises to her feet and holds out a hand to him.

“Would you like to go for a swim and rinse off before the sun rises?”

He accepts her hand, and they slip together into the embrace of the sea.

#original writing #original fic #dnd fic #original character #my writing #writing #writeblr #romance

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fey-changeling · 5 months

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I've been meaning to post this for months

bloodied weapon eternally raised (382 words) Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Venture Maidens (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Rem (The Venture Maidens) Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Mentioned The Children of Rem (The Venture Maidens), Character Study, Ish? I have no idea what to tag this Summary:

She could never be free while he lived.

#my fic #venture maidens #rem

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keyleth-clay · 7 months

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I don't typically post sneak-peeks of fics I'm working on, but I am way too proud of this bit to not shove it in everyone's faces lol.

#kc speaks #Venture Maidens #fanfic #VM 1 #VM Fate #Rem #Isolde Tristane #Remsolde #my fic #regarding kc's fics

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sarifinasnightmare · 8 months

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💜

Have a bomb ass week 🙌🏾

@palettesofrenaissance Okay you got! These are some of my faves. All are on AO3 which you need to be a part of to read these stories.

A Soldier and A Maiden Cross Paths One Night... - Sarah and The Winter Soldier fall in lust with each other while in South America. Action, violence and smut with two different endings!

The Longer Path to Each Other - Inspired by one of the endings from "A Soldier and A Maiden...". Bucky and Sarah meet in Delacroix years later and try to figure out if what they had was love or lust.

But The Memory Remains - Inspired by one of the endings from "A Soldier and A Maiden...". The Winter Soldier breaks all the rules to be with Sarah. AU all the way! This one had a lot of fans.

The Rougarou: A Change of Heart - My first venture into the supernatural/mild horror with Sarah as a medium and Bucky as a werewolf. Also a fan favorite.

Heaven Created You For Love: Because I love opera and this was my version of a love story for Winter Soldier Bucky and soprano singer Sarah. Love, passion and angst ahoy!!

#sarah x bucky #ao3 fanfic #sarah wilson #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x sarah wilson

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dumdaradumdaradum · 2 years

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Of travels and matches

Soooo, i finally wrote something to stop this thought from bugging me. I initially thought I should make this an oc thing but i had no idea what to name her so i went along with x reader, welp-

For those who it might concern, it is an Aemond x Reader fic.

Warning - none unless you count westeros as a warning in itself. Oh and I haven't read f&b and this is my first time writing for HOTD or got universe in general.

My other work can be found here.

Even when the city was thronged by men, it looked plodding. Sun peaked from behind the clouds shyly. Carriages after carriages rumbled through the bulky, monumental gates.

The roads usually well kept and clean were littered with belongings, small vendors lined up on both sides. City watch disappeared amidst the crowd. Once a while a gold cloak would flash somewhere in distance.

Never resting.

Red Keep was just shy of being hidden by the huddled residences. With several assemblage of gents chatting in small groups on both sides, men and maidens passed through in a narrow passage left open like a river.

"You take care now, son! Any of those spilled would be paid from your wage!"

A stumbling boy delivered beverages interrupting the commotion for a short moment. Moving from shadows of the tent to masses basking in the pleasant sun.

"They don't feed you here, boy?"

Distasteful gazes resounded with obnoxious laughter, making the scrawny kid cower into himself. Once everyone picked up their mugs, he scurried back to his master in the kitchen.

Moving further into the city, crowd thinned considerably. People talking in their houses could be heard on the street. Wheels of the carriages stumbled on the pebbles and small rocks.

Onlookers watched from their windows how convoys after convoys passed. With mildly tall building on sides, sun rays barely made it to the ground.

Fine wooden carriages, and several horsemen at front and at back.

Businessmen prepared for a major occasional boost in the economy. Once more, the small folk looked up with a certain twinkle, hopeful that this event would bring them enough money to put their worries at rest for atleast a season.

Smaller, darker lanes diverge from the wider street leading to the hidden corners of King's Landing. Places that no honorable man would venture to, places unfit for dutiful maidens.

Nobody bothered to peer towards them.

Eventually sky above head started widening. Houses got larger and further apart. Air got cleaner, vividly carrying the scent of flowers grown by ladies of the mansions.

And soon enough they stood in front of the Red Keep.

What would be silent and tame gardens currently played host to multiple tea parties. Melodic and loud giggles of women leisurely sewing and gossiping was certainly a site.

Knights and Lords stood apart deep in discussions.

Banners were flooding in every moment and being sent towards the chambers prepared.

Y/n Ambrose took everything in.

Westeros had a new King and celebrations were in order. Her mother quickly spotted Lady Tyrell accompanied by her handmaidens and moved towards her.

Wind moved fabric as she pulled her daughter by her wrist. "Good morrow, my Lady."

Sparing her mother a look, she turned to Y/n looking at her as though seeing her for the first time. Sun shone a little harsher breaking Lady Tyrell's inquisitive gaze.

"Good morrow, Lady Ambrose. How do you fair?"

An entourage of women trailed behind them. Y/n herself walked a step being the two. Queen mother was nowhere to be seen. Nobody from the royal family was.

Keeping in the snort, timid hands flattened down the flowy skirt. Relying on lace of her corsets, Y/n straightened her back and stood comfortably tall. Ravens and pigeons flew above the walls of the castle and in the orange sky.

Though Lady Tyrell was a quick and interesting lady. She feared there was nothing worth listening to in their conversation. From where she stood, much if the courtyard was visible.

"They say Kind Aegon looks quite handsome in the crown!"

A hoard of girls passed behind her. Hearing them fall into a joyous titter was as uncomfortable as it was annoying. Soon enough she would be with them, conversing over these mundane topics and faking laughters. All for the sake of socializing.

All because she was a lady and a certain engagement was expected of her.

It had been a long journey from Reach to King's Landing. For tonight she wished to retire a room, society and norms could wait till tomorrow. And seeing as they were all there to celebrate ascession of a new King, these festivities would continue for weeks.

There'd be days for her to be the entertaining and interactive young lady of House Ambrose.

Setting sun was bathing the vast area in its lights when she heard her name being called. Breaking out of the stupor, she quickly pressed her hands in the front and walked towards Queen Alicent with as much grace as she could muster.

With a little bow she uttered, "Your grace."

"I hope the travel was comfortable," turning to her mother, the Queen further made small inconsequential inquiries of health and wealth.

With nothing to do but look pretty beside her mother, Y/n focused on the smile that graced dowturned lips of Queen Alicent.

Shadows grew longer along the floor.

Hands locked firmly over her stomach, her eyes traveled again.

In close distance she saw, Ser Criston Cole approach them and along his side was the Prince.

Ready to revert her eyes when needed, Y/n continued to look. They walked in quick and long steps, slowing only when near the Queen.

Exchanging greetings with her mother, they turned to her. Once again bowing, a small greeting slipped past her lips. "Prince Aemond, Ser Cole."

Diligently she kept her eyes shy of theirs, only looking at them when they shifted focus to the woman holding royalty in her stance.

She had to admit, long silver hair suited the beautiful angular face of the Prince. Keeping in mind the uselessness of her thoughts, she marveled at the scar bleeding into his skin as they retired to their bedchambers.

****

Sleep had never hit Y/n as it did after a tiring travel to the capital. Waking up in a room that looked down on the city was certainly a new experience.

Lazily, her feet settled on the floor after the maids started filing in and pulled open the curtains. Pushing back the unruly locks, she tried to rub the sleep away from her face.

"My lady, the bath is ready."

Dark stones felt coarse under her bare sole. It was oddly grounding. "Hmm."

Day had well begun by the time Y/n got dressed. There was no hurry though.

"My Lady, your mother asks you to make haste."

Another one of the maids rushed in with her skirt hiked up and bunched in her hands.

"Why so?"

Silence fell upon them. Poor maid shied away from her.

She had less to do her home but she had absolutely nothing to do here. Once done with breakfast, she'd be free to take leisurely walks in the gardens all afternoon till time for lunch. Then another walk to pass time. Tea time. Walk with ladies. Dinner. Stay back and chat, maybe even walk. Sleep.

Y/n didn't hate the walks but if they were all she could do all day, just their notions seemed exhausting to her.

"My Lady, your mother and Lady Tyrell await you."

Another one pushed the curtains on the door and rushed in. Biting back a groan, Y/n threw her head back. "Why?"

Small whine at the back of her throat but undetectable in the words.

"I thought Lady Tyrell was going to stay neutral in the current power struggle. Why is she here?"

Though the question was aimed at the walls that seemed to know everything, she hoped one of the maidens would know something. Have some inside news. Some gossip to provide insight.

Slipping into a underskirt, she looked intently at the woman dressing her up. "Are my maids as clueless of these developments as I am?"

"Yes, my Lady. We were as shocked as you that she was here or that she stayed more than few hours."

Just as she was about to step into the fancy skirt, the same maid burst in. Again. "My lady, your mother-"

"Awaits. Yes."

Sighing she signaled everyone to hurry up with the dress and hair. Finally presentable in a simple blue dress, Y/n stepped out of the room and went to stand behind her mother.

"Yes mother, you sent for me?"

"What took you so long? Nevermind. Queen Alicent has requested an audience."

In a nick of time, she bit back a squeak minding presence of Lady Tyrell. Only allowing her eyes to widen slightly. "She wants to talk to us? About what?"

"We shall see, child."

Watching the older woman walk ahead, Y/n tucked a phantom strand behind her ears and turned to her mother. "Mother?"

"Come. We'll know shortly."

The walk to Queen's wing was short. Anxiety flared in her stomach. Several thoughts sprung and died out.

Everything seemed to go in a blur. Small greetings, small talks.

Discomfort flickered throughout the conversation they held over tea. The Greens wanted something. They had the support of her house. What more could they want?

"I feel, Lady Ambrose, I feel it would be fitting if your daughter marries my son, Prince Aemond."

That woke y/n up as anything. Once again, she gripped the cup tighter unable to speak or react. "My Queen?" The queasy feeling returned.

This was truly unexpected. Sure, Reach was fertile and wealthy and House Ambrose was not insignificant but why. They could have offered his hand to any other house, brought another house in an alliance with them.

"That is a wonderful thought, my Queen."

Lady Tyrell clapped her hands and expressed her joy, silently urging Lady Ambrose to come out of her instant daydreams.

"My Queen, my daughter would be honored to be a part House Targaryen." The twinkle in her eye was missed by none as her eyes slowly pinned the three women present. Finally turning to her daughter, chest lifted in pride, "My child, I never thought you would have such a stroke of luck. I couldn't have arranged a better match myself in next century!"

Y/n watched her mother's attention shift all over the place and she sealed her fate. Poured red hot wax and stamped her agreement.

The thought of being married for political gains had always sat ill with her. Helplessly nervous hands wrung the fabric.

"My Queen, I accept your generous suggestion. If you will it, my daughter shall be wed to your son."

As always, the taglist is open. Might fuck around and write more parts.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #Spotify

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jades-typurriter · 10 months

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Mori's Mementos

A little fic about a day in the life of a friend's shrinekeeper OC! He's a real cutie and @bluebearial is a real sweetheart and you should check them out <3

“MMMMMRRAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh,” yawned a young tanuki, followed by a little hmm! as he stretched and set his paws on his hips. The early morning sun broke through the boughs of the trees surrounding the clearing in which he stood, and he looked around at the work he’d have to do today. The leaves were starting to turn brown again, and many had piled up around the shrine he called home. Sweeping was on the list, then! Nothing else immediately seemed broken or dirty, so he’d start with that and figure it out from there. He looked behind him at the centerpiece of the shrine. It was an ornately-carved, if worn, statue of a large fox, wizened with age, each of its nine tails pluming out behind it. It was said to be very powerful, as all foxes became as they grew older, and this particular fox used that power to keep a vigil over the shrine and the mountain upon which it stood.

As he admired the visage of his patron, Mori realized that his backside hadn’t fully materialized yet. Silly him! He hadn’t walked all the way out of the statue. He shimmied down the steps, and his own spectral tails emerged from the statue in which he dwelled. He rustled them like he was shaking out a bad case of bed-headed hair. He was no kitsune, but he was proud that his own tails numbered at nine! It was nice to be similar to such a respected figure, even in such a small way.

See, this shrine hadn't been erected in the honor of any old kitsune, no–Mori was the shrine maiden (Shrine-mister? Shrine-manservant? He had no clue) of a zenko, a spirit who bestowed supernatural gifts upon those who also called this mountain home. An older visitor to the shrine had once told Mori that it was much busier, in the past. People came more frequently to make offerings to the zenko, and some even helped maintain the statue, the torii that lined the edges of the clearing, and the buildings that stood within it.

Mori trotted over to a storage shed in the corner of the clearing to fetch a broom, then scurried back to the statue. Side to side, he brushed leaves from the steps, making neat piles at the corners of the statue’s platform. Later, he’d find a sack from the shed and carry the leaves to the outskirts of the clearing; he was sure the trees would appreciate the extra food, even if it was sort of their own leftovers! As he worked, his tails flicked and flitted about his head, knocking leaves from atop the statue and scrubbing away any bits of moss that had settled since the last time he’d cleaned it.

“Older visitor” and “young tanuki” were relative terms for Mori; he never ventured far from the shrine, and certainly never to another settlement, so he’d never been taught to keep time. Still, as he worked, he wondered how long it had been since someone had made a pilgrimage here. The leaves had fallen like this more than once since then, he was fairly sure. He was used to the solitude–he had been there for as long as he could remember, and besides, the quiet gave him plenty of time to enjoy the constant chorus of nature’s voices.

But he was still just!! So EXCITED, whenever someone came to pay their respects to the zenko. They always came seeking some sort of boon, and though he had never met the kami himself–he had never even seen anything supernatural!–it was a joy to make the visitors feel welcome, and to do what he could to help them solve their problems. At the very least, he could give them some false confidence, and then they would go face down their challenges themselves, right? Gah, he had made himself miss having visitors again. Well, he was done sweeping the steps anyway, so now he had time to look through his collection! He nearly sprinted back to the shed, stopping only when he rammed the broom into the wall. Sure, he could pass through the wood just fine, but the broom? It was so easy to forget, he would run into it nearly as often as the forest’s deer ran into his laundry lines!

With the broom stowed, he traipsed along the foot-worn rut in the grass that led from the shrine to a nearby stream. Of all the sounds that the woods provided, the bubbling of this little river was one of the ones that made him feel most at peace. He stood on the bank, letting the wind blow around him, savoring the mingling of nature’s noises; it blew through his shoulder-trimmed hair and made his robes sway on his fluffy frame. Remembering himself, he filled a bucket of water from the river and hurried back.

As he neared another building, opposite the statue from the shed, his tails scooped up a bundle of leaves from one of the piles he had tidied them into earlier, as well as a few thick sticks from a stack near the door. Once inside the building–barely even a house, more like a parlor standing by itself in the clearing–he fished around in a cabinet for a sachet of tea leaves while his tails set to work arranging everything else. A third coiled around a teapot from a nearby table; a fourth set a metal stand upright above a small fire pit, and the first two unloaded their burdens beneath it. Satisfied with his choice of drink, he turned and snapped his paw, summoning a little wisp of fire and sending it drifting gently onto the pile of kindling. He set the teapot atop the stand, filled it with water from the bucket, and sprinkled in the tea leaves; then, as he left it to steep, he turned to a shelf to paw through some of the offerings that had been left at the shrine.

Most of the visitors recently were people who tended to go far out of their way. Some of them were artists, traveling painters or poets seeking inspiration in the far corners of the world–and Mori supposed that the side of a mountain was a reasonably far corner. Some were on religious journeys, secluding themselves to find the space to come to their own epiphanies, or seeking knowledge to bring home with them to their own shrines. Some of them were just plain desperate, and hoped that the aid of the zenko could save them (for these people, Mori did his best in their stead). No matter their reason for making the trek up to the shrine, they all brought some kind of offering, and Mori had kept a few of his favorites (he justified them as “adornments for the shrine”)!

The artists often left one of their works, or crafted something new specifically to mark the occasion of their visit. There were watercolor paintings of the vista from the mountain’s summit, or little wooden trinkets carved in the shape of the local animals–Mori’s favorite was a little whittled raccoon, which the donor had said reminded them of him. One particularly ambitious pilgrim wanted to leave their mark on the shrine itself, and felled a number of trees to erect a brand-new torii!

Visitors from other shrines, or from larger temples, often brought religious tokens; some of them, Mori recognized, and others were completely foreign. There was a lavish little stockpile of incense in one of the cabinets; on the wall was an ofuda, inked by a calligrapher’s steady hand, meant to ward off disaster from the shrine. He wasn’t sure whether it was appropriate to keep one within the shrine’s confines–ofuda were generally meant to protect homes, but even if he dwelled within the statue of his patron, this little tea room was something of a home for him. The torii gates were plastered with slips of paper bearing the names of visitors, offerings made simply to mark that they had been there. Hanging on the wall were a few paper pouches, bound together by string. The person who had offered them to the tanuki called them omamori. Both of them found the coincidence funny, and Mori had happily accepted them. He was told that, if he carried one with him wherever he went, they would shield him from the interference of mischievous spirits, but he had never had a run-in with a spirit anyway, and they unsettled him for a reason he couldn’t place, so on the wall they stayed.

His favorite offerings were from the poets, the authors, and those who wanted to document as much of the world as they could. While their original compositions were lovely–he could reflect on a haiku celebrating some facet of the mountainous landscape as easily as he could admire a painting–his favorites were the descriptions of the way the shrine was run. He thought of them almost like letters to the zenko, letting them know how good of a job he was doing at maintaining their home and solving the problems of their devotees in their stead. He pulled a piece of paper from a sheaf on a shelf:

…I journeyed up the mountain after being turned away by doctor after doctor–no matter how far I traveled, no matter what medicine I tried, I could not escape the feeling of my own impending doom, seemingly waiting for me around every corner. Eventually, I resigned myself: I thought that my ruin must be the will of the kami, and so I began to plead for aid at shrine after shrine instead. After months of wandering, visiting every last temple and holy place I could find, lead me here: Mori greeted me, and led me to the foot of the statue, where I petitioned the zenko for reprieve from my sentence, forgiveness for whatever transgression I had committed. The kitsune assigned the shrine-keeper (oh, right, that seemed to be the word!) to assist me in my plight.

He grinned at me, and their tails rose from their rest behind them, posturing like vipers. Though his smile was as innocent, and his bearing as devout, as when I had first stepped onto the hallowed ground, I thought that he meant to strike me. Instead of fleeing, I stayed on my knees, where I had been praying–I was too exhausted to continue running, and surely if the zenko saw fit to execute me on the spot, I was deserving of whatever punishment I was to endure.

Instead, when his tails sprang forward, I was swaddled in a soft embrace. Some of them cradled me from beneath, like a pile of blunt, velvet-lined pillows; the rest blanketed themselves atop me, blotting out the bright light of the sun and leaving me in something of a cocoon. The tanuki reassured me, told me that “getting comfortable” and “taking some time to relax” might assuage my fears; before I could protest that, believe me, I had TRIED that, the tails began to close in more tightly. His fur brushed up against every bit of exposed skin, and despite the oddness of the situation, I found myself leaning into their touch–more calming than a lover’s arms, more sheltering than any blanket. They tangled so tightly, in such a convoluted knot, that soon enough I could no longer tell where one tail ended and another began. I could no longer tell where I ended and the tails began! It was as though I had lost awareness of my own body, its sensations replaced with the gentle sensation of fur rustling in the wind.

The tanuki spoke to me again, and although I could understand his words perfectly clearly, I understood his intent on a level more direct than words could ever convey. I could tell I wasn’t going to be harmed, even if I stayed that way for a long while. And stay for a while I did: I joined the tanuki, for some time, in his daily routine around the shrine. Now ten-tailed, we completed his chores together, and I pitched in after some practice with controlling my share of his form. When he meditated, I meditated, joining him at some of his favorite hideaways in contemplation of the beauty of the mountain. When he slumbered, I slumbered; a straw mat in a shed had never felt so comfortable, and for the first time in ages, I awoke not from a nightmare, but was roused by the warmth of a sunbeam.

When finally we separated, I felt more refreshed than I ever had. Finally, my eyes were turned to the horizon without the fear of what I might find beyond it. I was left with a tail of my own, like one of the tanuki’s, but smaller, rounder. He told me that it would be a reminder of our time together, something to hold when I felt I needed reassurance. It is a blessing I will treasure forever, and–

FfffweeeeEEEEEEEEEEEE–

Oh! The teapot! He had been so absorbed in this lovely little reminder that he’d forgotten how thirsty he’d gotten.

“Hello?” carried a voice over the grass of the clearing. “I see smoke in your window, and hear a kettle on the hearth. I come seeking the zenko of this shrine.”

A visitor!! And Mori was so missing company after all that reminiscing… Well, his patron wasn’t really here, but he could still give this traveler in need what they wanted! He vanished, crossing the gap between his tea room and the statue as a mere flicker of light, planting himself behind the statue and out of sight of the visitor. Reappearing, he drew in a deep breath, and kept right on huffing, willing himself bigger, even bigger,until he was as big as the statue! With a puff of smoke, he changed his appearance to match that of his mentor, and he strode with all their confidence out into view. He may not be a magical, boon-granting spirit, but he was always happy to help–and to make a new friend!

#writeblr #trans author #slice of life #furry fiction #shrine maiden #tanuki #kitsune #indie author #yokai oc #yokai #my writing #short story

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catyo90 · 8 months

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Thorin x F!Reader: Always...

-(Second Fic for the Thorin and/or Elendil saving Reader: Anonymous Ask.)- Set after BOTFA

The day you feel in love with Thorin was not just the day you first met but also the day he saved your life.

You were outside the gates of the Blue Mountains walking along the forest following the nearby roads to join the other maidens at the creeks below where some were gathering herbs and some simply gathering water for their homes. Even some mothers had brought their children who you saw playing in the water. You smirked to yourself as you playfully splashed the children who laughed with glee as you too were splashed.

“Ah Y/n thats not fair!”

“Then you better try harder.”

You suddenly were attacked by the small children landing in the water much to your joy as you laughed as they pretended to be mighty fighters. You laughed alongside them as you stood up from the water seeing their mother sigh with exhaustion as the kids ran off to play.

You smirked to yourself as you stepped into the water looking for any gems that could have broken off in the mines deep below. A few times you were lucky to find rubies and even emeralds though in truth you were hoping to find something different.

You saw a few maidens gather beside you smiling at the feel of the warm morning sun and cool breeze as a few others were returned home for the day. The sound of horse hoofs walking nearby caused almost everyone to halt in their task. You all looked up to see it was a small patrol of dwarf warriors walking past returning home from a long venture. Each and everyone clearly tired from such a long trip and the fighting as well. A few dwarf maidens walked up the small hill offering food and drink to those they knew and even complete strangers.

You saw a few smile to you and offer a nod of respect. You smiled waving back until your attention was brought to one of the warriors who had actually dismounted from his horse walked just a little bit up ahead knelt down at the water washing away dirt and blood from his hands. He was quite handsome, his hair was as black as obsidian with a few strands of silver, as he washed his face you saw his sharp features were quite elegant and with a neatly trimmed beard to match. You had to admit you were awestruck by him as he looked around and saw on of his fellow warriors that was a much younger than himself with blonde hair walked by him offering a rag. You saw as the man took it that his eyes had glanced at you for a moment, making yourself a bit flushed. He wiped away the water from his face before adjusting his hair making you blush at the action. You saw him chuckle to himself for a moment as the dwarf next to him spoke, though his eyes did look at you once again, you decided to focus on your search.

As you walked down the water reaching to the further end you had noticed a small sapphire gem in the water that had been smoothed out by the water. You pulled it out of the water and smiled to yourself, that was until you noticed you were right in front of the handsome dwarf. You didn’t know what to say, here you were standing in front of this dwarf who seemingly took your breath away from his mere looks and you were standing almost soaked looking a bit messy.

“I...uh...I apologize. I did not mean to interrupt your rest.”

“Don’t worry lass.” By Mahal even his voice was beautiful to match. He saw him holding out a hand. You looked at the stone and offered it to him. He seemed quite intrigued by it as he looked up at you as he pulled out a small pipe before giving it back. You noticed two younger dwarves, one brunette and one blonde, sit next to him both more clearly exhausted as one of them laid down breathing heavily.

“Thank Mahal we’re back. Another day on the road and I would start losing my mind.” the brunette one said as the blonde threw a small pack toward him making him grunt from the impact.

“You already have brother.” The blonde turned to you and bowed his head respectfully

“Fili at your service. I see you’ve met my uncle.”

“You uncle?”

“Aye, he’s our mothers brother.” The brunette said jumping up onto his feet smiling at you.

“Kili, at your service.”

You smiled at both of them about to introduce yourself before their uncle spoke.

“Quite rare for a gem hunter to be so far from the mines. Even more rare to meet a female one.”

“The mines are too loud for my senses to handle...not to mention the ogling from the young lads who would wish to court me. I’d rather be comfortable doing what I love than miserable.”

He chuckled once more as he lit the pipe-weed and pat the ground next to him offering you to join him. You were slightly taken back from him asking you to sit beside him, you saw many of the other dwarf maidens watching with intrigue and wonder. Not to mention Kili and Fili looked even more shocked but quickly stopped when their uncle gave them as look. You looked back at him and smiled as you sat beside him.

“May I know you name lass?’ He asked offering you a canteen with what smelt like mead.

“Y/n L/n of Dunland. What of you?” You took a sip of the drink, the taste of honey lingering on your lips.

“Thorin Oakenshield of Erebor.”

You coughed for a few moments almost spitting out the mead you had just drunk causing Kili and Fili to chuckle slightly, you realized the dwarves you were sitting beside were no ordinary ones. They were all dwarf princes, you had heard the tales of how Thorin faced the armies in Moria and the sacking from the horrid worm Smaug. Yet here he was sitting beside you talking to you as an equal. You must have been silent for a tad too long as you saw him look up at you with a questioning look.

“I didn’t realize...”

You then stopped yourself before continuing. He looked at you once more but this time with a small smirk.

“I shouldn’t say such things...not when you need all your rest.”

He was not a prince or a warrior at this moment. He was simply a tired man wanting a little bit of peace, probably best not to announce royalty out in the open. He smiled as he watched you move closer to the water looking once more for the small gems. Kili and Fili smiled at each other as they watched. Thorin sighed to himself enjoying the sounds of the water and birds. You turned around to see he was clearly tired and decided to let him rest as you continued down the creek. He opened his eyes for a moment watching as you returned to the creek, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight. For it was one he would never wish to forget.

Your hair was slightly a mess the hems of your work clothes were almost entirely soaked as your bare feet kicked up the water every so often. The sun hitting your figure made him enthralled by your beauty even as you tripped over yourself falling back in the creek causing your hair to get soaked. You looked at him and started laughing as you flipped your hair over enjoying the cool water. Kili walked over to help you only to have his brother trip him into the water.

You gasped surprised for a moment before laughing as Kili grabbed Fili into the water as well. You then heard Thorin laugh with you as he stood up putting out the pipeweed and walked over to you offering you a hand. You smiled at him as you took it letting him help you to stand. You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the whole thing. You could feel how sturdy he was against you. Just the feeling of him being so close made your heart race a tad bit faster.

You looked up to see his eyes were fixed on you as you felt his arm still holding onto you making sure you were alright. There was a gentleness to him that you in truth didn’t think you would find in someone like him. Looking up at him you couldn’t help but become lost in the beauty of his face. He was truly very handsome, it was as if Mahal himself sculpted him. But it was his eyes that ensnared you completely, they were the brightest blue that you had ever seen, it was like looking into the ocean itself. You noticed he was a bit closer to you now as he was about to speak. That is until the sound of the gates horn could be heard over the hill back to their home.

“The evening bell...” you saw the others around you preparing themselves to return for the night. It was for many of the people's own safety but warriors and fighters were the only ones permitted at night to wonder, though never alone. Kili and Fili were putting their bows and arrows to be prepared for the night. You saw Thorin looking at you and for a moment could feel his hand clinging a tad tighter as if he was committed to holding you close as not to lose you.

“Kili, Fili...Will you be alright for the night?”

You looked at Kili and noticed that he was a bit perplexed until you saw Fili pushing his brother ahead of him to go untie Thorin's horse and their own as well.

“Of course. What about you uncle?”

All he did was nod to them before returning his attention to you once more. Kili was about to speak before once more being brought away by his brother who simply smiled taking the horses away. Silence.

Looking up at him you had realized he let go of your hand at some point. He seemed to look upon you like a miner when they find a gem for the first time.

“Forgive me. My nephews and I were tasked to watch for the night. If you would not mind I can accompany you back to the gate.”

“You could...”

“But?”

“Well, you would be by yourself for the night. I can’t allow that...after all. I can help you.” You showed on your belt a hidden blade under your robes showing that you could fight back. He simply sighed as he thought to himself for a moment. He couldn’t help but like the idea of you joining him but he knew that at night it was far more dangerous. He was about to protest against the idea until he noticed you were smiling at him.

“What?”

“No matter what... you're stuck with me now,” you said smiling to yourself walking a few steps ahead before turning around to look at him. He merely sighed as he started grabbing his stuff off the ground. You smiled knowing he secretly liked the idea of your company. You looked down the path waiting for him to gather everything he needed. Suddenly you felt warm as you felt fur around your neck, you noticed it was Thorin's cloak. You looked up at him and smiled at him.

“Thank you...”

“You're welcome. Stay close to me alright."

You nodded as he led the way down the dirt pass leading to a small watch tower where you could see a few other dwarves. You knew that was the range of the safety of the blue mountain. From then you both would be on your own until you reached the next tower.

The night grew colder as you clung to the furred cloak thankful to have it but you couldn't help but wonder how Thorin was able to handle sure chilling nights. Then again he was probably just used to it, traveling as often as he did it would be of no surprise. You brought your hands to your mouth trying to warm them up when you saw Thorin turn around and walked up to you offering both his own hands. The moment your fingers touched you could sense how warm he was. You couldn't help but grip them a bit tighter from the feel of them. They were the hands of a warrior, rough with a few old scars but warm and gentle.

"You are very warm. I guess I should be twice as thankful now."

"It's alright. My sister gets easily chilled as well. Many times I and my brother would help her warm up. Even once just wrapping her in multiple blankets for the day...though we probably shouldn't have on her birthday."

He chuckled to himself which made you smile and laugh with him.

*snap*

Suddenly from the dense woods was a snap of a few branches. Both of your attentions were brought away from the other. He drew his blade in hand standing in front of you. You drew your blade before looking everywhere you thought something might appear. You whispered.

"I see nothing, perhaps it was a deer."

"No...it's bigger than a deer. Can you smell that"

The smell hit your nose and you immediately felt sick. The smell of blood was in the wind. The crunch of what you could only think to be bone was heard. The lowest of growls could be heard as two large yellow eyes bore at both of you. It was a warg and a massive one at that. It could easily kill any prey it wished.

You saw its mouth covered in blood as its teeth bared at both of you. Before you could have time to react the beast came running at both of you causing you both to quickly dodge out of the way of the ferocious beast. It managed to collect its bearings bringing its attention to you as it caused you to back away, you felt your legs and hands shaking as the beast drew closer, you held your blade up and as the beast tried to claw at you, you managed to cut into the beast's paw causing it to howl in pain as Thorin managed to sneak up behind it and cut at its hind legs. The beast let out an angered roar as it kicked its hindlegs up smacking Thorin in the chest causing him to be thrown into a nearby tree.

The beast almost seemed to smile as it brought its head around to him as it walked closer and closer with each minute. You quickly rushed to the side of the beast impaling it in the side with your own blade making the beast pull back causing the sword to leave your hand. You stood between it and Thorin as you saw it trying to pull the sword out with its mouth tossing it aside back toward you, you gasped when you saw the blade coming back toward you and jumped out of the way. You tumbled on the ground suddenly feeling a sharp pain in you leg. The sword had managed to cut you, not mortally wounded but the pain was almost too much to handle. You were in pain clutching your leg as you tried your best to stand back up to reach Thorin who was struggling to stand himself.

The sudden pressure from the creature's large paw pushing onto your leg made you struggle against it trying to push it away as its mouth drew closer to your head trying to bite off anything it could. You thought this was the end until the beast's head fell to the side of yours its eyes rolling back. It was dead.

You saw Thorin standing over you and the now-dead creature with his sword in its head. You were shocked for a moment but the weight of the creature off of you made you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Thank you...that was...” You stopped when you felt him hugging you tight. You were about to speak but his attention was immediately brought to your leg as he looked over it.

“I’m alright, it stings but I’ll live.”

“Can you walk?”

“I’m not sure but what about you. It hit you pretty hard in the chest.”

“I can handle it...Come on, we’re not that far from the watchtower ahead.”

You saw him pull his blade out of the warg's body as you did so as well with your own blade wiping away your own blood from the blade. You winced in pain when you tried to walk with him.

“Don’t push yourself, lass. I got you.”

He said as he carefully picked you up in his arms. You couldn’t help but blush from the gesture as you clung to his tunic smiling at the warmth from his hands and how gentle he was with handling you. You noticed he was walking carefully with every step looking down at you every so often making sure you were alright.

After some time you both managed to see the tower and luckily didn’t run into any other wargs. Thorin managed to kick the door open seeing that the others had already left. He looked around to see a firepit in the center with some chairs around and nearby a few sleeping cots, he gently placed you on one of the cots looking once more at your leg, the wound luckily wasn’t too deep.

“You rest. I’ll grab some wrappings and get you something to eat.” He said placing a somewhat soft pillow under your head and leg.

“Thorin, I’m alright. You don't need to worry about me.”

“Hush now....” He merely said moving some of the hair away from your face before turning around to the door and closing it and locking it. Quickly he brought his attention to the firepit where he put a few more logs on the fire. He looked over and grabbed a few wrappings for your leg. You looked down to see that the wound was not too terribly deep but clearly sore and painful. He gently raised your leg up cleaning off the blood with warm water.

“Your lucky, not many survive such an attack from a warg.”

“Lucky still that I have you to care for me.”

Thorins hands stopped for a moment as he registered what you had said with a chuckle to respond with. He couldn’t help but smile to you as he gently cleaned the wound, it was a bit painful but nothing you couldn’t handle.

“Well...even so you should be more careful.”

You winced a little from the wrappings making contact with the wound.

“Guess my own sword had it out for me...’ you said looking down seeing he had tied the ends of the wrapping together.

The sudden flash of lightning followed by the clash of thunder made you jump a tad as the outside grew darker with each second. Thorin walked over to the door and opened it to see a storm on the rise and most likely would last all night.

“We’ll stay here...We can’t move in the pitch dark and im not moving you while your injured.” He said closing the door before walking back to your side before kneeling down one more to check you leg. The look on his face made you smile, it was one of concern but also caring, you had only just met him and here he was acting not like a prince or a king, but a kind and nurturing man, no more no less. You brought a hand to his causing him to look up at you.

“Thank you Thorin. Truly.”

He eyes grew slightly wider as he hand clutched onto yours for a few moments. As he sat up next to you being careful not to hurt you, the sight of a scar along the upper part of his chest was slightly visible. The scar was one you knew all too well from the stories of those who fought in the Battle of the Five Armies. He had been on the receiving end of the dreaded orc Azog. You gently moved the tunic collar out of the way seeing him watch you carefully and allowing you to see the wound. It had managed to heal as best it could, but the flared skin made you look at him with pain.

“This is not the only scar you gained that day is it?”

He chuckled to himself when he moved the hair from his face to the side showing a faded scar across his forehead into his hairline, along with a few much smaller scars along his face, almost barely visible. It truly was a miracle he survived that battle, for many were not so lucky.

“So many...”

“That is the life of warrior, Y/n...one that is hard but worth it. One that I would not change for anything.”

He said nodding to you as you brought a hand to your head feeling the exhaustion from the warg encounter and the pain from your leg making you feel tired. He stood up quickly wrapping a gentle hand behind your head and back laying you down carefully against the furs.

“Rest Y/n...rest now. When you wake I’ll be right here.”

You merely nodded as your eyes grew heavy, but not before you clung to his hand with yours.

“Thorin...”

The feeling of his hand holding your was the last sense you felt before sleep slowly over took you. He smiled to himself as he looked down at your hand and brought it to his lips with a gentle kiss. The only thing he knew was at that moment, for the rest of his days on middle earth. He would be grateful to any valar that allowed him to let him stay beside you, to always protect you.

#the hobbit thorin #Thorin Oakenshield #reader insert #reader x thorin #anonymous request #enjoy

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