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imthefemalemonster · 2 years ago

Note

Hiii

Can u Yandere!Daemon Targaryen x reader

He kind of force her to marry him after he arrive in pentos (he didn’t marry leana) time pass and she just love him and they have lots os kids. They go to leana funeral but daemon don’t left her side, when people tried to talk to him alone he says that his wife stays. The one second that she left his side to attend one of their kids Rhaenyra came to his side and asks if he love reader and he barely look at her before saying that she’s his moon end stars (Khal Drogo vibes) ❤️❤️❤️

Hello beautiful! Of course I can, I loved the ideas and I tried to develop a bit more the start of the relationship, I hope you like it. ♡

***

⸻We'll Meet Again

Daemon Targaryen x Female!Reader (Fluff/Mature themes)

⸻ Summary: Love grows mysterious way; you soon find out when Prince Daemon Targaryen seeks your hand and even the Gods themselves wouldn't dare refuse him.

Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Dubcon, (at the beginning), Obsessed/Overprotective Daemon, Forced Marriage, Innocence Kink, Age Difference, (age not specified but reader is ~20), Fluff, Kisses, Hugs, Mention of Sex, No Use of Y/N, No beta feminism left my body when I wrote this

⸻Read on Ao3

Notes: Requested by anon, I hope you like it. ♡

There’s mention of some sex/virginity loss/first time but nothing too bad, not really smutty more fluffly with Daemon being obsessed ((manipulative)) and overprotective with you. ~

Warning for dubcon at the beginning.

Tumblr for ideas/requests: @imthefemalemonster

Smut & fluff prompts: here & here

⸻ Words: 4934

The afternoon sun hit your skin as you walked down the streets. Busy and noisy, you wandered with ease in the crowd, in the city you knew all too well. You had to meet friends at the port, the one Pentos was most known for. You had proposed to meet in the beautiful gardens close to your home, but the air of the sea suited your friends more. As you arrived near, you looked around, only finding goods, people and boats. The familiarity of the place reassured you, the smell of the water like a mother’s embrace. But as you walked down the gardens, into the city and to the port, for some time now, you had felt eyes on you, two orbits you saw too much to be a mere coincidence.

Daughter of a public figure of the city, your father made rich from the trades of spice, you were accustomed to interested men gravitating around you. But youthful as you were, or rather innocent and unbothered. You had never really thought about the next big steps in your life, you preferred living in the instant. What pleased you were long walks, books that told a hundred stories, and the little voices in the walls who recounted the tales of love and betrayal of the people of the city, of the lands, and past the sea. You listened with much care, learning about the things you would maybe never see. Seated next to your friends facing the sea, you heard songs and stories, your noses in books as you all laughed and speculated on how the other people outside the city must live. You had a few friends over there, girls you met times ago, their letters would crack under your curious fingers, drowning into the words of another world. As you listened to the story of your friend and flying lizards, which you longed to see one day, you noticed the presence back not far away from you. You couldn’t quite catch the sight for long, everytime your eyes met, the figure would disappear soon after. You had never paid much attention to it, you were used to being looked at. But something deep inside you knew that this was different. Turning your head back to your friends, you soon forgot the blonde locks and lilac stare, until the next time you meet.

It happened in the garden the second time you really paid attention to it, you won a tender smile. The third time a voice, a low, deep one who sounded both like a threat and honey, like a blade would tenderly brush your skin, each second menacing to pierce your body and see the blood flow out of it. The fourth time, you couldn’t remember, was it at the port again? Near your home? As the day passed, it felt like everyday. Everyday a shadow behind you, eyes on your figure. Hands that grazed your back, fingers brushing your neck, smiles exchanged. Curiosity got the better of you when you approached, naive as you were. The gardens were full of people, talking, laughing. Digits touched slightly as the words flowed in your ears, lips sweet against your skin. He had a name and a title you would not forget. Once again the orbs left you alone, your hands gripping the silk of your dress, lips parted as you wanted to call him back. Prince Daemon Targaryen.

Daemon had rarely held this much restraint. What he desired, he always got, whatever it cost. So when it came to you, he observed, he stalked, he learnt. You were much younger, walking around the city with an innocence to match his insolence. Your laugh was honey to his ears, your face as enchanting as the sun, your voice a bliss he could beg to hear singing, as you did once in your home’s garden as he was resting near. The first time he noticed you, you never left his mind. It was similar to poison, but one he would drink day after days after day even if it consummated him to the bones. Without your knowledge, he followed you in the city, he watched your fingers turn the pages of a book, the details of your joints engraved in his mind as they moved gracefully. He observed your lips moving as you talked, laughed, called to your friends or spoke words he drowned into. Daemon desired you all over his body, and desired him all over yours. At first it was soft, discreet caresses. When he got tired of just following you around, he craved to touch. He lost his hands behind your exposed back, digits tracing your spine. He observed you shiver at the touch, trying to meet the eyes of the culprit of these unwanted caresses. Daemon would smile at your visible distress mixed with curiosity, his arousal growing stronger with each touch. He grazed your neck, arms, hands. He wanted to possess you whole.

When he noticed people, especially men talking to you, he would fixate on them until they couldn’t hold his lilac stare anymore and they would leave. Rejoicing in the newfound power he had, as much as his reputation gave him, he observed you walking alone, shadowing you like he was your dark reflection caused by the sun. After you really interacted for the first time, to his delight, exchanging names and smiles, he was even more present at your sides. He never thought you really appreciated it, he never cared, in time you would, he would make you love it. So you walked together, talked all afternoons long, spend evenings together. He would randomly show up at your door, surprised but touched by the attention, you obliged him. When he walked all the way to you, he would grab your wrists, his figure broad and impressive, you felt small, a kitten held in gigantic arms. You couldn’t quite tell if you appreciated it, all the attention, all the time, but your life had become his. Everytime he met you eyes, Daemon used all his strength, everything he didn’t know the Gods could give him not to press you onto him and devour you whole like he dreamed for weeks now.

That night, Daemon had invited you to a sort of feast organized nearby. You weren’t sure what was celebrated, but you accepted as you loved to hang out. Maybe you could find your friends there, some you hadn’t seen for some time now since you spent most of your time with Daemon now. You felt some relief at the idea, the city was noisy with music and voices, busy with lights and fire at every corner, you rejoiced at the atmosphere. When you stepped out of your house, he was already here. The Rogue Prince, standing fiercely, eyes stripping you from your thin dress as he looked at you from toes to head.

“You smell really nice.”, he whispered as he stalked toward you, hands resting on your waist as his head leaned into your neck.

The contacts had become so much more intimate the past few days. You only thought it was gentle and attentionate. Sometimes you couldn’t quite decipher the smirk on his lips as he looked at you. To you it was kindness, to him it was hunger. He reached for your hands, thumbs caressing the skin, his digits trapping your own as he guided you toward the exit, down the streets, into a grand and beautiful house decorated with magnificent mosaics. There he placed his arm around your waist, locking you against him. Inside, you walked like a couple you were not, to you, not to him.

Daemon had hoped you would stick with him, now that you had learned the lesson. Maybe he had not worked hard enough, or maybe you were really this naive. When you immediately left his arms, the heat of your body leaving with you, he groaned in discontentment. Stalking behind you as you wandered and talked to people you knew, he observed each of the faces, each he would remember so they never talked to you again. His digits found your neck, your arms, your back, but everytime you escaped his control. You went around laughing, sometimes turning back to smile at him and invite him near. He drowned in these moments you would look at him, and him only. That all of you were focused on him. He could grab you, lift you above the crowd and claim you as his. After hours of talking and laughing, music buzzing in your ears, your feet and body were exhausted. You were still in the middle of everyone, you sighed ready to leave as you felt a harsh grip on your waist. You recognized the touch immediately, Daemon’s chest pressing in your back, his lips brushing the overheated skin of your neck.

“Give me your attention.”

The words left his mouth so fast, cold as ice, it felt more like an order than an invitation.

“I’m sorry?”, you mumbled, eyes filled with confusion.

“I haven’t received any.”

You choked on the words. His voice wasn’t low and soft like it used to. It was guttural and scary, like it was coming from a part deep inside him you never wanted to meet with. You heard the stories, you would rather not finish impaled on a sword or fed to a dragon.

“All night.”, he continued, spinning you around with no care for your tired body, his eyes staring into yours, intimidating.

“All-”, you paused, uncertain of his intentions, “I’ve been with you all night.”

He scoffed at the words, a hand on your neck, squeezing it slightly. Smirk on his lips, more vile than kind. He pressed his broad body onto yours, you felt crushed, by him, and by all the people around you.

“You have not paid attention to me all night”, he repeated, the sentence like a blade ripping your throat open, “Apart from glancing at me and laughing with other… men.”

The last word was accentuated like an insult. You swallowed, his thumb pressing on your neck as he felt it. You felt both angry and sorry. Maybe you could indulge in more time with him, but you already did everyday. You sighed. One last time then.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes sparkled at the words, lips moving into a soft smile. You had found the right words, you thought. He nodded, a hand cupping your cheek. A gentle and reassuring move, to you. To him, he could mold you to every of his desires because you were so easy to frighten.

“It’s all fine.”

You smiled as he lowered his hand to your wrist, brushing it gently, digits closing around it as his body started to move back, taking you with him

“You can give me this attention now, I promise to use it well”, he murmured against your face, flushed at the hot air hitting your skin. “How about we finish the night elsewhere?”

Unsure what the words meant, you simply nodded, letting him guide you outside. You walked past people and houses, down the street to the port, where you loved to rest during the day. It was dark, deep in the night as you sat facing the sea. You felt reassured, it was just another gentle evening at his side, maybe he had gotten overwhelmed by the people, and you wanted to reassure him that your friendship was still intact. Legs slightly brushing one another, he fixed at you. His face had changed, you couldn’t quite decipher it. He was smiling, but it didn’t feel gentle. You wanted to ask a thousand questions.

Daemon was lost in his thoughts. He was so close to both his goal and climax. Your naive, flushed face turned toward him, he could have lost it in seconds. He dreamed of your scent and naked body, to have you scream his name on the very floor. But he doubted you had the same idea in mind even if he wished you did. Forcing the act was considered but he didn’t go with it, he would rather avoid a diplomatic incident. He was surprised by his own restraint. He would win this war with words and touches, like he did for weeks now. You would yield.

“I’ve never felt stronger than when you’re with me.”

Your eyes widened at the words, knowing him, it meant much. Blushing you lowered your head to your hands, shyly intertwining your fingers as they danced on your dress.

“How strong?”, you laughed. He focused on your hands, his eyes lost on the motions as he dreamed of having them all over his scared body.

“Give me your hand and I’ll show you.”

You obeyed, raising a hand toward him, unsure what he would do with it. He softly grabbed it with his own, he paused for a second, observing every detail on your beautiful skin, before softly kissing the top of it. You shivered at the touch, cheeks red and eyes escaping the intimate sight.

“Daemon-”, you chuckled. You had heard and read a thousand love stories. This is how they started and you smiled at the nice intention. You tried to withdraw your hand, ready to ask him to take you home, your tired body starting to hurt. But when you moved your arm, he only squeezed your hand harder, pulling it to him. You frowned your eyebrows, raising your head to look at him, confused. Everything sane had left him, his eyes were as dark as the night and as savage as the sea.

“You are my love.”

Waves crashed near you. You wished they would have swallowed you whole with the words just spoken. You had understood Daemon’s intentions a while ago, you weren't a stranger to the flattering of men. But you had never shown interest back, you thought. And if you ever did, you wished for it to take the time it needed, the one you needed. Maybe love wasn’t the word yet, you had sincere feelings for the man, gratitude to his kindness and attention.

“I don’t-”

You couldn’t speak. What could be said?

“You don’t love me?”

Eyes closed, your hand still trapped in his, you felt it tense, squeezing your harder. It felt like a warning, not like concern.

“I-”, you searched for the right words again, “That’s not what I mean no. I truly appreciate you…”

“Then what?”, his eyes pierced right through your heart, it bled like rain falling from the saddened skies.

“I’m not- I’m not ready Daemon”, you spoke, voice trembling.

“You don’t need to be”, he rasped, “You never truly are.”

You shook your head at the words, it didn’t make sense.

“I don’t want it.”

His digits dug in your palm, his breaths heavy. You wondered if it was going to be the sword or the dragon that would end you.

“You don’t”, he whispered, he had not moved a bit, like he was turned into a statue, his face similar to stone, “Then what of the touches? The smiles? The laughs? The time spent together?”

“Simple kindness!”. You let go of the words, wondering if you would regret them, “You were nice, and I appreciated it, so I was nice too. That’s it.”

“But that’s not love to you?”, he scoffed, “Oh you truly are that innocent.”

“I never said it wasn’t, I only said I didn’t know yet.”, you whined, “Maybe with more time.”

“I don’t want more time.”, Daemon grumbled, “I know what I want.”

You raised your eyes to meet his stare, as time had passed, you had both moved closer, you got lost in his eyes and him in yours.

"I want you.”

Your heart stopped beating, it felt like void, no noise was to be heard but the whispers of the sea. May she deliver you. Silence loomed for minutes.

“B-but my family”, it was merely an excuse, you didn’t really care. You only wanted to get out of here, out of his manipulative grasp.

“They didn’t deserve you.” His thumb brushed your hand softly, he almost had you. “I’ll treat you well. I’ll love you. I already do.”

Eyes tearing up you closed your eyes, focusing on your heart racing again. Your digits intertwined like real lovers.

“Love…”, he whispered. The words had you tensing. It felt good, yet menacing. Did you even have a choice? Accept and it was done, but refuse? It would probably be worse. You heard the stories, you knew the stories. You felt his presence lean closer to you, his nose brushing yours.

“F-fine.” You gave up. Maybe you only needed time. He drank your words like the best wine, his smile malicious, victorious.

Thoughts and prayers were taken away from you like air in your lungs when his hand grabbed the back of your neck, pushing your lips to his. The distance was closed in a wet contact, much more gentle and loving than you imagined. And to the first kiss followed the first night.

Your father was quick to accept. You never really thought about his opinion on it, but considering his status there was nothing more he could wish than having you bed a Prince. You felt a sort of abandon when they agreed so fast. To be tossed around wasn’t your greatest joy. You still had to process the last night and the gravity of Daemon words. Your father wasn’t necessarily overjoyed, everything was business to him. If the business was good, then he rolled with it. Within the day it was done. Now Daemon didn’t have any sort of restraint concerning you anymore. He stayed at your house and came when he wanted. At first it was a grand annoyance to you, you felt like liberties had been taken away. But as the days passed, the word ‘husband’ slinging on your tongue started to please you, as you were met with ‘wife’, even if you preferred ‘my love’. You couldn’t quite explain it, something felt right.

You sensed something different in Daemon, like his chains had been taken off. He was still terribly overprotective, especially after claiming before all as his wife and to his words, ‘his greatest love’. You experienced everything of a wife, and more to the fact that you were the Rogue Prince’s. Now Daemon was not shy to threaten anyone who would look down on you or wouldn’t treat you well enough to his taste. The men walked toward you eyes on the floor, the women envied you as you told the thousand kind attentions Daemon had toward you everyday. He wanted you both to experience everything of love and more.

The first time was… strange. You remember his own excitement and your confusion. You had… read things. But you still rested there on the bed, inexperienced and exposed to his expert hands. Freezing and tense, your heart beat to a never ending race. When he crawled above you, you braced yourself for the pain you have been told about. But to your great surprise, you were drowned in praises and kisses, exchanging smiles and laughs. You remember the feeling, it was painful, but it was accompanied by your loving husband's willing hands and mouth. For the few seconds of pain you had, he granted you hours of pleasure. And it never ended, each night back at it. You kissed and kissed, whispering words, your bodies enlaced, full of him as he melted into your tender embrace, worshiping your body like the Gods.

The first kick happened at night. You couldn’t sleep well as the month went by and your belly grew larger. When you felt it move your eyes widened. It didn’t hurt, it just felt weird to feel the little babe growing inside you manifesting itself. Smiling, you brushed your skin hoping it felt it too. You leaned closer to Daemon, fingers tapping his chest. Sleeping was much easier for him as he was glued to your body, legs intertwined, arm under your head and breath heavy against your sensitive skin. He emerged when you kept pinching his cheek, trying to get his attention. He turned to you, face half awake, worry in his eyes. Since the start of your pregnancy he had been more than overprotective. You struggled to thought it was possible. But he followed you everywhere, never leaving you alone. He ensured you always had maidens around in case anything happened. You took naps together, bathed together. He spend hours head resting next to your growing belly, peppering kisses all over it. He whispered soft and loving words to the babe. You watched him, brushing his hair while he felt asleep on your chest.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?”, he spoke, sitting up, his hand brushing your shoulders, thumb circling the skin in a reassuring manner.

You smiled at him, gently guiding his hand toward your baby bump.

“It keeps moving”, you mumbled, falsely vexed as you closed your eyes to melt into his touch. His digits grazing the skin, slowly tracing your rounded belly. He laid back on the bed, face next to yours as you exchanged loving kisses, the baby’s kicks reminding you of its presence. “They are going to love you.”

“They?”

“I want many of them.”, you smiled against his lips. He laughed into your mouth as he planted kisses on it.

Entering into labor was probably the scariest thing that happened to you. You had heard much about giving birth, but all the words Daemon would whisper in your ears couldn’t calm you down when the first contractions happened. It felt like tearing your body apart. You groaned and used words nobody thought could come out of your mouth. You ripped the fabric open in your hand, cried to whoever would hear you. As always, Daemon was at your side. You screamed and begged him to never leave you. He promised it and he never left you. The only time you allowed him to was when he stood up fiercely, your son in his arms as he cradled it, walking back to you. Dropping the little whining babe in your arms, he sat next to you, brushing the sweat off your face. He laid next to you, arms over your body and the little one. I love you. The sun set and the moon rose, the years passed and he was here for your second son, and still here for your little girl.

“I’m not leaving your side.”

Daemon looked after your two little boys like the most precious things he had. They looked very much like him. Fearless, brave, insolent. They ran around the house, escaping your sermons when Daemon laughed them off. They looked up to him with such admiration, he walked them to the port, trained them with the sword, and rode Caraxes with them. He had all eyes on your two little Princes. He praised them, kissed them, hugged them, loved them more than you could ever hope. You watched them grow in his arms. After their birth, waiting for your third child who happened to be a girl you wondered if he would treat her any different. Worries bubbled in your belly as she grew. She was very much like him too, which Daemon adored. He cherished her with everything he had, he taught your boys to love her as much. Barely walking, held between her older brothers, she walked with them to the port, into the gardens, her eyes sparkling like her father, fire into her veins. The girl was very talkative, even if her babbling didn’t make sense to others, Daemon listened to it for hours as she sat on the bed with her small hand moving in the air. He was so attentive, so focused, he answered back and their connection grew stronger each day.

“You were right here all along.”, you whispered.

Daemon raised an eyebrow at the words, unsure of what they meant. You were both laying in the grass, the afternoon sun cradling you both as your children were running around amongst the flowers in the garden. You heard their little yells and laughs as they were chasing butterflies under Daemon’s attentive gaze.

“You do love me.”

“You thought I lied?”, he murmured. There was no anger in his voice, but you could decipher a hint of sadness.

“No”, you reassured, cupping his cheek gently as you smiled at him, “But I like that it showed through the years.”, you paused, “By other means than grabbing my hand and kissing it.”

A shy laugh left him as he kissed your temple. You felt a small presence at your side as you turned, meeting with your lovely daughter, still struggling to hold onto her feet.

“Love you”, she babbled, resting her chin on your shoulders. You pinched her round cheeks and she laughed, head wiggling to escape your teasing touches.

“And me?”, pouted Daemon, falsely looking annoyed. The little girl raised her eyes to meet his, their lilac orbits clashing. There was as much insolence in her as there was in him, he loved and encouraged it each day.

“Love you too.”, she finally spoke, tongue escaping her tiny lips in defiance. A smile tore through Daemon’s face as he scoffed, twiddling the mess of her hair.

Leaving Pentos for the first time in your life was a huge step forward for you, you only wished it wasn’t because a close friend passed away. For years you exchanged letters with Laena, she was sweet and caring, strong and loved. Daemon was obviously saddened at the news, he apprehended going back there with you and the children. Having you around all the people, some he hated, made him only grow more annoyed and anxious as you embarked for the Driftmark. He hid it but after years together you knew how to interpret each of his moods.

“Never, ever, leave my side”, he ordered before you arrived.

“Didn’t we promise that to each other?”

He smirked at your answer, you had learnt your lesson well years ago. None of you was leaving each other's sides. Never.

As you met with more and more people, family and distant friends, you were asked everywhere. Faces unknown to you, gripping at your children as you held them onto you. You smiled and pretended, but Daemon wasn’t. Apart from his close family, which were his brother, sister and niece, and a few selected friends, he was cold to everyone else, especially those who looked down upon you. You were a woman of a distant land, some treated you like an exotic good to be handled and looked at. You greeted people with politeness, speaking a few words of your land. You felt your husband's grip tighten around your waist. Digits intertwined with his, you tried to reassure him, soft smile on your lips.

During the day, Daemon was asked more than once. Everytime the men looked at you with nonchalance as you accompanied him. He walked fiercely at your side, holding you like his most loved and precious prize. But you were much more to him than that. Anyone who dared to ask you to leave you meet with the famous Dark Sister, and probably regret it.

“She stays with me.”, he husked everytime the men wanted you to leave him. Nobody dared to contest the Rogue Prince’s decision.

Gentle smile on your face, you would rather avoid a slaughter. Each time Daemon started to threaten the people that treated you too badly to his taste, you would brush his face, his shoulders, desperately trying to soothe him before he lost it. Still you were reassured he never wanted you to leave his side, this new land was making you so anxious, looking after your kids as they ran away with others, scared to lose everything you had built for years.

Later that day, your little girl couldn’t stop pulling on your dress, whining that she wanted to go and see the pets, as she called the dragons. You had seen them too, beautiful, impressive, you wanted to take her closer to them, but Daemon was lost in an important conversation. Softly you whispered to him, his eyes traveled to you and his daughter as you pointed to them. For a second he hesitated, squeezing your hand harder, but he couldn’t refuse anything his children asked. He nodded, worry in his eyes as he watched you both walk away from him, already missing your presence. His eyes never left you, smirk on his lips as his boys jumped, hands in the air to get the wyrms’ attention. He heard their laughs and yells when the impressive dragons moved around, observing your figure, bent over to hold your little girl.

“They are beautiful, Uncle.”

Daemon recognized the voice, nodding at the words. Rhaenyra moved to his side, her magnificent eyes staring in your direction.

“They are”, he murmured, eyes still fixated on you and your children, a hand on the hilt of his blade, the other empty, missing your loving warmth.

“You love her do you?”, she questioned, asking like she knew the answer.

“I love them”, Daemon corrected, smirking, “Our relationship is the most important thing in my life.”

He paused for a second, eyes closed. He hoped the wind could carry his words across the lands and seas.

“I am but a starless sky without her. Empty. Lost. Each time they shine it reminds me of her laugh, her smile, her warmth. She'll always be the spark to my void.”

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #fics #dubcon #**mine #What did I just wrote

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case-of-traxits · 11 months ago

Note

50 Random Character Asks:

Tseng, 1 - 50

You know you had this coming.

50 Random Character Asks: Tseng Edition

I can't even pretend to be surprised here, can I? Well, I got your second ask with your choices as well, so they're in here. 💖

50 questions. Whew. I'll give you guys a sampler on the first one, but the rest are going to be under a cut. This took me SO LONG to do. I've literally been working on it since the 17th! All together, there's 4934 words in this bad boy, excluding the questions.

So uh. Enjoy nearly 5k of meta about Tseng. XD

That said, please keep in mind that all of my answers are specific to how I personally write Tseng. I'm not going to necessarily distinguish every piece of canon from headcanon.

[For this ask game!] || [Still accepting]

1. Canon I outright reject

That Tseng knew Zack was being kept in Nibelheim. For me, it just doesn't work with the rest of Tseng's arc regarding Zack and Aerith and him keeping all of those letters. So. No. Technically, in BC, Tseng is aware that Zack and Cloud are both alive and badly injured, and Hojo orders for him to "prepare the mansion," but never actually says what he's going to be doing there. Tseng sends the Player Turk to clear it out, and then Veld shows up and sends all of the Turks to work on handling the townspeople and everything instead of the mansion. So it's entirely possible that Tseng never knew, according to BC, that Zack and Cloud were placed in those tubes in the basement.

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

Tseng is absolutely capable of slapping Aerith. I realize that they took that out of the Remake, but I just feel like it's critical for his character for you to know that he is absolutely capable of that level of violence, even against someone he cares about.

3. Obscure headcanon

Tseng is the third (and youngest) son of Kisaragi Godo's older brother, who was emperor during the Wutaian War. He was brought up in one of the Leviathan Temples to keep him as an effective (and safe) spare to the throne before he defected to Shinra. His forehead marking is a holdover from his time in the Temple, and he'll never admit to a single soul that sometimes, he feels the guiding hand of destiny (or fate or whatever you want to call it) in his life.

4. Favorite line

"It must have been a real thrill for you… Did you enjoy it?" I think this is everyone's favorite canon line. With the possible exception of the "Mr. President," line from the Remake. That one's pretty damn good, but it requires actual explanation, doesn't it? XD I will say, he also has the canon line of, "I put everyone else at risk because I feared feeling guilty," in BC. Which is... telling.

5. Best personality trait

Tseng's loyalty is easily his best personality trait, in my opinion. We see a lot of it in BC, with his dedication to trying to help and save both Veld and the department, as well as in CC, with his devotion to getting those letters to Zack.

6. Worst personality trait

Tseng's devotion to doing things "correctly" is definitely his worst personality trait. I am firmly of the opinion that this is the thing that's held him back on just killing the President and installing Rufus early. I mean, I have no doubt that there is technically more to it, including the fact that we have no idea what kind of succession clause might have been put in place for Rufus to inherit.

7. Age/height/weight headcanon

Age // Born in 1975, so he is 8 years older than Rufus and Reno, 2 years older than Sephiroth, and 3 years younger than Reeve. Height // I usually go with 5'8", but I'm a little flexible on this. I'll go up to 5'10". He cannot, however, be taller than Rufus for me. Weight // Eh, I don't really do weight HCs.

8. Unpopular opinion about them

Hm... Do I have an unpopular opinion about Tseng..? I don't know that I interact with enough Tseng fans to know. Maybe my insistence on him being fairly easy-going when he isn't at work? I see Tseng as the sort who can go with the flow to some extent, mostly because I don't think he'd work as well with Reno if he wasn't.

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character

Oh man, honestly? This might be my unpopular opinion, but his "death" scene in the OG. With Sephiroth. And no, not just because of my ship goggles. But there's just so much implied trust there, at a point where Tseng probably shouldn't trust Sephiroth. He just... He talks to Sephiroth like he's still sane, and Sephiroth cuts him down during it, and then he still drags himself back through the entire Temple of the Ancients to get to the entrance so that he can let AVALANCHE in.

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)

See above. I just... I love that scene. It's easily his best scene.

11. Faceclaim for the role

Satoh Takeru.

12. Crack headcanon

So, I don't think I have a straight "crack" headcanon for Tseng. I do have some crack-treated-seriously headcanons, including that he doesn't heal well magically (explaining why he spends so much more time in bandages and recovery than basically everyone else), and that if he's not friends with Reeve or in a romantic relationship with a partner who insists otherwise, he would live entirely on takeout. Tseng does not cook, in my opinion. He's perfectly capable, but why? He's spent years curating an extensive collection of takeout menus he considers acceptable food, and he eats exclusively from restaurants that have passed his very exacting standards. Ooh! And this: Tseng drives a small black sportscar at possibly dangerous speeds in Midgar. It also has no plates, but there's not a cop in Midgar stupid enough to try to ticket it.

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

Possibly trusting Sephiroth when he ran into him at the Temple of the Ancients, but honestly, there was probably no way he was walking out of that anyway, right? So excluding that... Probably, the actual 'dumbest' thing he canonically does is in BC, when he chooses to rescue a single lone reactor guard instead of destroying a ship full of weapons that Shinra can't afford to let get out. That's definitely treated as his dumbest choice by the canon.

14. Most heroic moment

When he literally, while dying, drags himself through the Temple to make sure Aerith gets the keystone.

15. Worst thing they’ve ever done

I mean. He canonically murders people for his paycheck. So probably that? Unless you're more offended by the 'abandoning his country' backstory, of course.

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

He will always wonder if he could have made a difference for Wutai if he'd fought for them instead of going to Midgar. Not that he regrets leaving. He is fairly sure that he was always meant to be at Rufus' side. But there's always that small, lingering thought.

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

I actually have an old fanmix that more or less I still use. That said, you can also add "Secret (Pretty Little Liars: The Perfectionists Theme)," covered by Denmark + Winter.

18. What they’d go to see a therapist about

I am going to read this is what he should see a therapist about because I'm pretty sure if he had to go see one, he would spend the entire session silent, watching the therapist and making them horribly uncomfortable. (Unless it's Angel, but she's one of @ladykf-writes' OCs that I gleefully borrow whenever I can. She's a counselor specifically for Turks, and Tseng knows better than to try to argue with her.) Honestly though. If Tseng were up to date on mental health, I think he'd need to see a therapist about his inability to be settled with anything less than perfection from himself. And, you know, probably talk to them about the killing people thing.

19. Vices/bad habits

Tseng smokes. It wasn't a habit he was in before Midgar, but while he was being 'debriefed,' he discovered that asking for a cigarette meant he got to go outside and see the sky and breathe the (admittedly not great) air. However, due to him not healing super well magically and needing to actually recover naturally, he did eventually notice a cough and slight shortness of breath that he couldn't shake. So he tries not to smoke as much anymore. Still, he does keep a pack of his clove cigarettes on him at all times.

20. Scars

Oh plenty. All the Turks have them, and Tseng has a few more than most given his difficulties in healing.

21. Drink of choice (not just alcoholic)

Alcoholic // Junami sake, served warm. He has a few brands that he likes, most of which need to be imported from Wutai. Non-alcoholic // Caramel Macchiato with extra caramel and extra whip. Not that he'd let anyone catch him ordering it. He has a single barista that he goes to in the coffee shop in the Tower (her name is Peony), and she knows better than to call his order out. Tseng's sweet tooth is something he keeps very much under wraps.

22. Best physical feature

I mean. How do you pick? He's gorgeous. Maybe his hair, but I have a weakness for beautiful hair.

23. If they were a scented candle, what would they smell like?

Vetiver. But that's probably just because I HC his cologne as having notes of vetiver in it.

24. Most annoying habit

According to Reeve, it's Tseng's uncanny way of reading you. There's nothing more frustrating to him than Tseng's little, "And is that all?" sort of question because he knows that Tseng means, 'I know there's something else and here's your opportunity to tell me what it is before I go digging.'

25. 3 things they’d want to take with them if they were dropped off in the middle of nowhere

Assuming he is not allowed to bring his phone, and assuming that a backpack full of his usual supplies (he has one in his apartment, one in his car, and one in his office; he finds it unlikely he'd be caught somewhere without it) doesn't count as a single item, and assuming that he's not stripped of his usual clothes/gear when he's dropped off... 1 // A survival radio with a rechargeable battery. 2 // A waterproof map. 3 // A first aid kit. Really, he'd probably be fine even if dropped off with absolutely nothing, but trust me, he would not be happy about it.

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [Lazard]

At first, there would be a long stretch of silence as they both studied the number display and then the elevator panel itself. Lazard would be the first one to move, leaning forward to punch a few of the buttons, but once it was clear that the elevator was not moving, Tseng would sigh and tip his head back and study the ceiling. He's cataloging everything he needs to do, wondering briefly what he can hand off, what he could text some of the others about to ensure it's done in time. Then he looks over at Lazard, who is sighing and pushing his hand through his hair. There's another few moments of silence before Lazard pushes the emergency call button, and after they're both reassured by the voice on the other end that maintenance is aware of the issue and working to restore functionality, Tseng slides down to sit. Lazard looks over at him, then sighs and takes that as an invitation to do the same. "Do you think it's inappropriate to text Reeve?" And Tseng looks up at Lazard, a small, knowing smile on his lips. "That depends," he murmurs. "Do you actually want to get to that meeting?" Lazard chuckles, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose slightly, and he looks back down at his phone. After a moment, he lays it face down on his leg and tips his head back against the glass wall of the elevator, and he looks out over the city on display behind Tseng. Tseng notices he doesn't start texting. The silence is comfortable. Companionable. Neither of them have any stake in impressing one another, and there's no need to fill the silence with talking only for the sake of talking. Tseng supposes that they're lucky that it isn't winter. Else they would have to sit much, much closer. A glance over at Lazard, who has taken off his glasses briefly to rub one of his eyes, and a little smile touches Tseng's lips. Not, he decides after a minute, that it would be a bad thing, necessarily.

27. Their guilty pleasure

Tseng loves sweets. Basically all kinds, but he does have a particular weakness for good chocolate and good caramel. His secret indulgence that he'll never admit to anyone who knows him is that sometimes, during the winter, he'll order a large hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and get a caramel drizzle on it from the coffee shop in the Tower. But only if his usual barista (Peony) is working. Since she already knows his coffee order is something equally ridiculously sweet, he finds that to be less humiliating than adding someone else in on the loop.

28. How they feel about [Reeve]

Complicated. On the one hand, Tseng and Reeve are always, always good friends when I write. One of Tseng's first long, solo missions with the Turks (and I really should rewrite that fic with my current Tseng's backstory and clean up the prose a little) was to function as Reeve's escort on a reactor tour. That's a minimum of two weeks if they're taking advantage of helicopters periodically, more often three full weeks of travel when Reeve drives the whole thing. And of course, the driving is definitely Reeve's preference. Reactor tours are practically the only vacation he takes. But there's no way you don't spend three weeks on a cross-planet roadtrip and don't end up very close to the person you spent all that time with in the car (unless, of course, it's terrible and you just want to murder them). But at the same time, there are secrets between them that they both know they can't know about one another. Reeve can't know all the gory details about Tseng's life as a Turk, and Tseng can't know about Reeve's... let's call it his uncanny knack with the reactors. Now, do I ship them? Honestly, yes, sometimes. I mean, I usually pair off Tseng with Sephiroth and Reeve with either Lazard (if I want canon to happen for something later) or Genesis (if I'm wanting a fix-it), but I can absolutely ship Tseng with Reeve. Honestly though, that's kind of an unfair question. I can ship Tseng and Reeve with nearly anyone.

29. Eating habits

��If it weren't for Reeve's insistence on a weekly meal with him and Reeve's occasional order of groceries simply arriving at Tseng's apartment unannounced (he only really sends dry goods these days; produce and dairy get delivered by Reeve himself when Tseng invites him over), Tseng would live exclusively on takeout. Expensive takeout. But takeout nonetheless.

30. Sleeping habits

Tseng slept in a Midgardian style bed for about a week while he was in debriefing after he defected, but eventually, he took all of his blankets and everything and just started sleeping on the floor instead. Now, in his apartment in Upper Eight in the middle of Little Wutai, he's found someone who can make him a gloriously oversized futon, and his one "concession" to the Midgardian way of doing things is that he no longer puts his futon up every morning. He has four futons to rotate between, with a veritable army of sheets and blankets for them that he's gotten as what he suspects is something akin to 'tribute' from some of the Little Wutai locals. He's done his best to make it clear that he's to be treated as anyone else in the community, but he's hardly going to refuse these things. Tseng sleeps lightly, waking up at basically any sort of unexpected sound, but he has the enviable ability to drift right back off.

31. If the had a tumblr what would it look like?

Honestly? It would be all precisely curated images/gifs of nature. Probably of waterfalls and rivers and creeks. But it would be immaculate. Perfectly tagged and maintained.

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh

I don't know that it is guaranteed, but Reno's antics often get a smile or a chuckle out of Tseng; particularly so when someone is underestimating Reno in some way. He has a tendency to find amusement in watching someone walk right into something they should have seen coming. That said, both Reeve and Rufus are also able to routinely get a smile out of him; Reeve because he's just so warm that Tseng can't help but to smile back and Rufus because, well, to be perfectly frank, he's a sassy little shit sometimes and Tseng loves that about him. (For the record, Aerith also often fits in that "sassy little shit" box, but Tseng does his best not to let her see him smile, or else she'll take it as encouragement.) If we're talking about something other than people though, the sort of thing that will routinely get a smile out of Tseng is people watching. He likes sitting on a bench in the Tower or in Midgar in general and just... watching people go by. It helps him feel grounded in the world.

33. Something guaranteed to make them cry

I don't know that anything specific is guaranteed to make him cry. He's very much a 'buckle down and take care of things,' sort of guy instead of the emotional reaction sort of guy. That said, he doesn't handle it well after Nibelheim. Even if he's not in a relationship with Sephiroth, the whole mess of 'handling' the survivors and realizing just how far the President will go to keep himself in power and the uncertainty of what's going on with Veld and with AVALANCHE and just... It's isn't pretty.

34. How they react when they are feeling [excited]

Tseng has, as a general rule, muted outward emotional tells for anything he's feeling. It was trained into him when he was at the Temple, both as a potential heir to the throne as well as because he was being trained to be a priest. That said, when he's genuinely excited about something and not just 'looking forward' to it, someone who knows him can tell. He's distracted from other things. And sometimes, if you're talking to him and he's excited about something, he might ask you to repeat yourself. Not like, "Oh, I didn't hear you, what?" But you'll get a lot more of those little noncommittal "Mm?" sounds out of him. Unless you're talking about the thing he's excited about. In that case, you'll have his complete attention, and his usually small, amused smiles (the smug ones; you know the ones) are a bit bigger, more genuine and, dare I say it, softer.

35. Their idea of a perfect day

Tseng's idea of a perfect day... well, to some extent, that varies based on where we are in the timeline and if he's in a romantic relationship, but in general, his idea of the perfect day is as follows: Nothing disastrous happens. Barring that, he'll settle for: Anything disastrous that did happen was handled. Appropriately. In all seriousness, Tseng is very much the sort who focuses on living each day as though he won't have another, and he doesn't let himself indulge much in idle fantasies. He's much more interested in perfect moments. A good morning run with someone he likes. An effective training session with one of the other Turks. Watching someone grasp something that he's been teaching them. An evening walk with someone he loves. Sharing a ridiculously rich chocolate cake with them afterwards. That sort of thing.

36. Their favorite season

Tseng's favorite season in Midgar is fall, when there's a near constant wind coming off the mountains. It can be difficult to track the seasons in Midgar, since there's not much by way of greenery, but fall means a cool wind that helps disperse some of the excess heat that comes off the Plate under his feet. Back in Wutai, his favorite season was summer. He liked watching the fireflies in the dusk at the Temple, and no small part of him misses that.

37. What they really think about themselves

Deep down, no matter what else, Tseng knows that he is an oathbreaker. He can justify it to himself or dress it up all he wants, but he knows that his father, that his brothers, that his country counted on him, and he walked away. He abandoned everything he'd ever known and walked into the camp of the enemy and swore to help them instead. It's part of why his loyalty is so fiercely held now, and part of why he's so careful to be as pristine and perfect at what he does as is possible. He knows what his family— had they survived the war— would have said. Once an oathbreaker, always an oathbreaker, and now, he's tied to the oaths he has made in a way that he wouldn't be if he hadn't defected, because he's terrified that they would be right. That puts him in the position of conflicting loyalties, and why he is so careful not to make promises once he's in Midgar. His first loyalty is to Rufus now, his second to the rest of the Turks, and if there's anything that keeps him awake at night, it's how he's supposed to juggle the additional loyalties that he's found himself collecting (Aerith, Reeve, Zack, Sephiroth, Veld, Reno, etc.).

38. Favorite holiday

Valentine's Day. Or, to be more exact, the day after. When Tseng can get a box of very nice chocolates for extremely cheap. XD No, in all seriousness, Tseng quite likes the Midgar celebration of the dead, All Hallow's Eve, with the fixation on costumes and frightening people. He finds it fascinating for a culture that spends so much of its time not talking about the dead.

39. Favorite game

Tseng likes card games. He's good at them for the most part, and in fact, when he first defected and arrived in the SOLDIER camp, he realized very quickly that his traditional Wutaian garb was only going to keep him Othered. So he learned to play poker from watching several hands, and he won himself gil and spare clothing alike off those SOLDIERs who heard his— at the time— thick accent and thought he'd be an easy mark. He still has a soft spot for poker.

40. Favorite book

Have two of Tseng's favorites. Both titles have been translated from the original Wutaian for your convenience, but Tseng only has the Wutaian copies in his home. "When the Sun Rises in the West," by Yurieva Aiko. This is a collection of poetry made from the letters recovered from the belongings of Wutaian soldiers after the war. "The Sleeve Cost Me Nothing Compared to You," by Sato Ivan. This is a collection of short stories and poetry about love and the fleeting nature of romance.

41. If they could have lunch with anyone in the world (living or dead, from any fictional universe or the real world), who would it be?

Before he defects // Tseng would like to have lunch with one of the previous emperors at this point, just to try to get some perspective on what's happening with his country. Particularly, he desperately wishes he had someone to ask for advice from. He's torn on what he sees going on, and he wonders what's wrong with him that he seems to be the only one who sees that there's no possible way for them to win this engagement with Shinra. After he defects // During his time in Shinra, given the option to have lunch with literally anyone, Tseng would like one more lunch with someone he loves. He's very much of the opinion that the best thing to do is to savor every moment you get with someone, no matter how mundane or fleeting. Post-canon // He would like one more lunch with Aerith and Zack. Just to see them again, and to convince himself to let their ghosts go.

42. 3 comfort items

1 // Tseng has kept, over the years, exactly one kimono from his time in Wutai, and while he never wears it anymore, sometimes, when he's feeling nostalgic, he'll go and run his hands over the silk. 2 // After he completed his training to be accepted into the Turks, before he left the Academy in Junon to go back to Midgar full time, the Acting Director of Operations in The Junon Branch of the Administrative Research, Anya (also one of @ladykf-writes' OCs), gave him an inlaid bone and black alloy knife with a blade cleaning kit. This is the knife that Tseng wears strapped to his left thigh (the left pocket is cut open in every pair of his pants so that he can reach it). 3 // When Rufus was fifteen, he gifted Tseng a solid black watch with no markers on it besides a pair of mythril white hands and a single mythril accent on the face that marked the twelve. Rufus never intended for Tseng to keep it as a staple, but while Rufus has gifted him other watches since then, this is the one that Tseng wears as his every day watch.

43. 3 favorite foods and 3 they despise

Favorite Food 1 // Sushi from a tiny hole-in-the-wall place in Little Wutai. And when he says hole-in-the-wall, he means this woman literally just sells bentos out of her kitchen. Favorite Food 2 // Fiola's in Upper Six is one of his favorites. They have excellent Mideelan pasta and even better bread. The bread is, in fact, good enough that while Tseng usually doesn't eat bread with his meals, he'll make an exception for Fiola's. Favorite Food 3 // There is a tiny bakery in Upper Three that sells the absolute best chocolate cake that Tseng has ever had. Despised Food 1 // The "sushi" for sale in the Midgar cafeteria. One of them had mayonnaise in it. Despised Food 2 // Pork rinds, a surprisingly popular snack in Midgar. Tseng suspects it's a holdover from when the area was much more farming-oriented. As it stands, every sector, Above and Below, has their own 'special' flavoring for them, and Tseng has yet to find anything redeeming about them. Despised Food 3 // Tseng doesn't despise bread exactly, but he fails to find it enjoyable to eat most of the time. He'd prefer his carbs come in sugar, pasta, or rice, given the choice.

44. Their happiest memory

Tseng has a couple. The first one is of one of the last times he saw his mother. He was about eleven, and he was brought to her rooms so that she could see him. They spent the evening reading poetry and him showing off his sword forms and her telling him how proud of him she was. He helped her brush out her hair and braid it for bed, and then she returned the favor and kissed his forehead and sent him on back to his own rooms. He has a small jade comb that he found in a secondhand shop in Little Wutai that makes him think of her. His second happiest memory is nearly always with Reeve, of their drive around the planet on that first reactor tour. It was the first time Tseng traveled that he could just enjoy the process, and he has fond memories of the times they rolled the windows down and Tseng could let his hand hang out of the car and just... feel the breeze. Reeve had been content to talk about nothing or put on an audiobook— and those had been something delightful to learn about, something that Tseng had immediately invested in because that was a great way to listen to the language— and let them just ride.

45. Their favorite celebrity

Tseng is embarrassed to admit it, but when he first arrived in Midgar and Junon, his Standard was not nearly as good as he'd thought it was. The tutors he'd had in Wutai hadn't been native speakers, after all, and while he'd learned very well from them, there was no way he'd be mistaken for a natural speaker. So he'd immediately immersed himself, watching the news and reading everything he could get his hands on, and eventually, he'd discovered what were called 'soaps.' He never really followed a lot of the plot lines— he felt sometimes like they had put several novels in a blender and poured the resulting concoction on the screen— but he did eventually decide there was one actress, Gabrielle Cooper, that he enjoyed watching. She had one of the most neutral accents he'd ever heard, and he followed her from show to show faithfully. Even long after he'd stopped watching soaps to help with his Standard, long after he'd more or less shed his own accent completely, he would catch himself picking up a magazine or a tabloid if she was featured on the cover.

46. The person they most admire

For a long, long time, it was Veld. And then everything with Felicia happened. And it isn't that he no longer admires Veld, but he certainly seems more human now. What Tseng admires most about Veld now isn't the seemingly perfect Turk persona that he presents, but his dedication to what he thinks is right. Post-canon, the person he probably actually admires most is Rufus. Rufus Shinra, who was brought up to rule the world and has been barred from the throne. Rufus Shinra, who should have had everything and instead has had to cobble something together from the ruins left behind. In that vein, Reeve is an extremely close second. Reeve was never intended to be the one in charge, and Tseng knows that Reeve would like nothing more than to hand it all off to someone else and go back to designing houses and buildings and parks. But there's literally no one else to hand it off to. So he trudges on, running the now-largest military force in the world, making decisions that shape the entire world with almost no oversight.

47. Their dream job

If Tseng wasn't a Turk and hadn't been brought up in the Temple and was just an average Midgar citizen? He'd be a restaurant critic. He'd write the most detailed and possibly scathing reviews possible, and restaurants would fear him.

48. Scariest moment of their life

A few months before he defected, during a ritual for Leviathan at the Temple, Tseng nearly drowned. This was one of his big catalyst moments for abandoning Wutai, as he realized in that moment that no matter what anyone told him about how important he was, they all saw him as expendable. After Advent Children, the scariest moment in Tseng's life was watching Rufus jump from that building.

49. Favorite toy as a child

Tseng was given a wooden training sword very young that he absolutely used to menace every Temple Guardian he ran across until he was big enough for proper training, and he cherished it right up until he left the temple. He didn't take it with him, but he made sure to polish it and leave it in a respectful place when he left. He is sure that it was broken and/or burned upon discovery that he had chosen to side with Shinra.

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

I don't know that Tseng has very many memories that he's blocked out. Tseng is very unflinching when it comes to facing who he is and what he's done and what's been done to him. He believes in facing things head-on and in dealing with the consequences that brings.

Congratulations on making it all the way down here, omg. IT WAS SO LONG!!

All of the love. 💖

#ff7 #final fantasy vii #tseng of the turks #meta #I cannot believe I wrote damn near 5k on this thing #BUT HERE YOU GO.

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