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just-some-random-blogger · 4 months ago

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Tin Soldier

Gwayne returns from Rook's Rest to King's Landing where his wife has been patiently waiting for him, knowing he would need stress relief.

Gwayne Hightower x Reader | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, pwp idk what to tell you, ok nvm porn with feelings, gwaynes BRATTY, smut (piv, bdsm, pet play??, biting, marking, scratching), fluff can you believe that, typos, etc.

A/N: inspired by this post. i wish @barbieaemond and @targs-on-zorses a very much i hope you suffer

"Oh, praise the gods," I mutter under my breath once I spot the two knights entering through gates of the Keep. I dismiss my handmaiden and head towards them.

Gwayne and Criston spot me, the former's hardened face softens. I offer them a smile and clasp my hands, "very good. The Mother has delivered you whole." I nod in regard, "ser Criston."

The said man nods, "my-"

"You would greet another man before your husband, woman?"

I turn to Gwayne. His jaw clenches. I hold back a grin and pucker my lower lip instead, "I only wished to thank the Hand for returning my love to me with no missing limbs."

He scoffs. His horse trots in place. Gwayne does not enjoy that. He very much did not enjoy that.

"I should thank your husband for doing the same for me, my lady," Criston replies, making me turn back to him.

I smile. Gwayne dismounts. "Then I rejoice in knowing you both will return safely so long as you have each other."

A stable boy comes to get my husband's ride. He spares me no glance when he walks passed me. I turn to my feet with a chuckle, rubbing my belly that bubbled in excitement, "welcome home, ser." We share a nod before I chase after my lord.

He is walking incredibly fast.

I gather my skirts, "my lord!"

Gwayne does not stop. He only continues to storm to our shared chambers. When he reaches the stairs, I break into a sprint, laughing as I did, "lord husband!"

Needless to say, my calls fall deaf on his ears. I have to catch my breath once I enter the room.

"RETURN ME?!"

I close the door behind me, eyes not leaving my armored lover as he paces around the room. My breath hitches at the sight of him. Oh, how I missed the clanking of his steel uniform.

Gwayne turns back to me, pointing a harsh finger to the ground, "WOULD THAT I BE THE ONE RETURNED-

My eyes sparkle at his vexed expression.

"OH! IF YOU ONLY KNEW HOW COLE WAS-"

I reach for his breastplate, "twas a jest."

"Well, you jest wrongly," he glares, swatting my hands away. I press my lips together to suppress my smile. He charges towards the vanity, "you now not how insufferable that Dornishman is."

He begins to undo the cuffs on his forearm. Oh, by the Seven, he was actually upset. He never removed his own armor, not when I was present. I sigh, "Gwayne-"

"Do not-" he pulls roughly on his sleeve "-address me, woman."

I purse my lips and grab his shoulder plate. He shrugs me off dramatically and I reel back in momentary shock, only to huff and grab him by his steely collar.

He glares at me.

I raise my brows, mouth opening to start a new argument. But his face, marked with hurt, though dramatic, makes my heart tinge. I decide not to pursue it.

He recognizes this and lifts his nose. His brows quirk in challenge.

I tilt my head and sigh, "begging your pardon, my lord," I brush my hands down to the sigil on his heart, "tis distasteful to speak on matters I know not of."

Gwayne stares at me for a moment. I peer at him through my lashes, absentmindedly drawing shapes on his chest, "I submit. I wish not to quarrel."

He does not reply, but he visibly relaxes, save for the way his brows knit, "my lips."

My eyes fall to his mouth where a cut laid on the bottom corner, "yes. You've been cut." I pull away to grab some ointment for it, "we shall treat your lip again after your bath."

He watches as I go through the vials on the table. Just as I open the lid of the salve, I feel his rigid body press against my back. I look over my shoulder, gazing up at his face as he embraces me.

"You have not kissed them," he mutters, "you insult me twice, wife."

Oh, what darling. I pretend to think, "I thought I was woman."

"Wrong again," he takes the vial from me, setting it down with little attention. He turns me around and traps me against the vanity, "my woman."

He wastes no more time keeping our lips separate. Gwayne picks me by the waist and sits me on the table as his lips reacquaint themselves with mine. My body melts against him, my legs part to welcome him between and my hands sneak their way into his nape.

He pulls away, "damn this helmet."

I giggle but stop him when he tries to rid himself of it. He raises a brow then sighs, "not again."

"What?" I laugh innocently, "it suits you well."

He shakes his head but makes no further move to rid himself of his steel hat. He does however begin to bunch my skirts up. I mumble, "my tin soldier."

He groans. "Perhaps I'll fuck you in my helmet, vixen," he wraps my legs around him, "see how you like it."

I gleefully retort, "so long as you fuck me, ser-" he begins to kiss my neck, "I will be- OH!"

Gwayne sharply pulls away, face concerned.

I cover my mouth with my hands, "I'd nearly forgotten!"

He can do nothing but watch as I wrangle out of our position and shoo him away. He grumbles as I go through a drawer, "I got you a gift."

"Must you give it to me now?"

I laugh and turn back to him once I have it in my hand, "I find you will regret it if I do not give it to you sooner."

His brow quirks in interest.

I grin and motion with my head, "to the bed with you."

Gwayne is sat on the side of the bed in an instant. He eagerly looks at me. I saunter over with a look of mischief. His eyes widen when I kneel by his feet. At this point, he knew exactly what my surprise was and he simply reaches a hand out to me.

I place a bell in his palm. Gwayne releases a deep breath that breaks into an excited chuckle, "oh, my girl, you might regret this."

I simply look at him with a smile.

He stares at me, knowing then that our game had started. His lips part infinitesimally as he basks in the power he now had. He rings the bell, "you may speak your mind, pet."

"Thank you, ser."

Gwayne rings it again, "get me out of this fucking armor."

"Yes, ser," I say, coming to my feet to undo his top. I feel his eyes on me as I do so.

He releases a breath, hands coming to my side, "I have free rein on your body, do I not?"

"Of course, ser."

"Mmm," he rubs my ass then smacks it, "strip for me," he rings the bell.

I turn to him, "after I-"

"Now," he blurts.

I pull away from him and begin to undo the ties of my dress. It is a slight struggle but not impossible. Once my dress drops to the floor and I'm left in my shift, he rings his bell, "stop."

I still where I stand.

"And your smallclothes," he rings.

I oblige, pulling them and letting them drop to the floor. He reaches a hand out, ringing again, "come to me."

I take his hand and he spreads his legs. I sit on his lap and he rings, "you may proceed, pet."

I continue to undo his armor, "of course, ser."

Ring. "Kiss me as you do so."

I do not speak, only follow the command. I kiss him intermittently as I finally remove a shoulder plate. It is considerably harder to do than undoing my dress because of all the latches. I decide to prioritize undressing him, but it seems that was a mistake.

He snakes his hand up my skirt and squeezes my inner thigh, "my lips are wanting yours, pet."

"I am doing my best, se-"

"Well, try harder."

Gwayne thoroughly enjoys my struggle and unabashedly complains when I am not kissing him. I begin to grow increasingly frustrated when I prioritize kissing him yet finds it in him to complain about how hot his armor is. At some point, I begin throwing the metal I do get off him angrily to the ground.

His chuckle is deep, "careful, pet. That is your lord's armor."

"Fuck your armor," I grunt, chucking his cuffs to the floor.

He laughs and licks his lips.

"I was given permission to speak my mind, was I not? I mutter, sliding off his lap to undo the cuffs on his legs.

"I did not give you leave to leave my lap," he stares at me.

I glare at him and sit back down. He examines me for a moment, rings his bell, and chirps, "get off."

I sigh and stand.

"Uh-ta-ta-ta-ta," he grabs my arm and raises a finger. He looks up at me, shrugging, "what do we say?"

I suck in a breath and force a smile, "of course, ser. Thank you, ser."

"Good," he raises the bell before ringing it, "proceed."

I drop to my knees and continue to rid him of his wretched armor. He brushes my hair back and rubs my lips, "indeed again, you you are not kissing me."

I huff, looking up at him. His eyes sparkle as I say, "a thousand apologies, ser." I attempt to do the impossible, kissing him while undoing the cuffs on his shins. Amazingly, I eventually complete the task and do so with another huff.

Gwayne rings his bell and knocks on his helmet, "you missed one, pet."

I sit on his lap and place my hands on his shoulders. He watches me as I frown. I look at him pleadingly but he allows me no satisfaction. I have no choice but to take his helmet off. He snakes an arm around me, "hard, that one, was it?"

I place his helmet on the night stand and kiss him, "I wish to please my lord."

He smirks, "then shall you be rewarded." He carelessly chucks the bell behind him, causing me gasp, "Gwayne!"

"I enjoyed our little game but find I no longer have the patience for it," he grabs my thighs and turns me on him.

"That's why we keep losing the bell, you keep throwing it!"

"Fuck the bell," he quips, making me straddle him, "I want to fuck my wife."

The next thing I know, my dress is being ripped off and he's hastily undoing his breeches. I cannot help my laugh as I shift atop him to free himself, and once he is, I grind on his hardened cock, making him grit his teeth. I bask in the feel of him after removing his shirt. By the gods, how I've missed the feel of his chest on my palms.

He allows me to dote on his scars and freckles. I could weep at his beauty. He then sinks his head into the crook of my neck and I wrap my arms around him.

"My wife," he licks a stripe to my jaw, "I dream about your skin."

I brush my fingers up his hair and tug gently, "Gwyane."

"I miss your taste," he mutters in between kisses. He tightens his hold on me, "I miss your taste, miss your skin, miss your lips, my love," he rakes his fingers up my back, "did you miss me?"

I moan as I sink myself down on him. He squeezes my shoulders and drops his jaw.

I grab his cheeks and press our foreheads together, "missed you so much— missed your touch, missed having you inside me, missed your smart mouth."

He chuckles and kisses me, "missed yours." Gwayne begins to buck into me, arms tight around my waist.

I grunt and bring his face into my chest, throwing my head back as I ride him. He sucks on my skin, intent to leave evidence of him on me. I tangle my fingers into his hair then pepper kisses on his forehead. He smelled of sweat and dirt and ash; I relish every bit of him.

I whimper when he sinks his teeth into the side of my throat before suckling. I clench around him in response. I pull his hair and speak his name. He replies with a moan, grazing me with his teeth once more.

My riding becomes harder. The sound of our breath and the utterance of each other's names mingle with the creak of the bed and the wet sound of slapping skin. He grabs my hips, flesh spilling between his fingers, and bites his nails into me. He huffs, guiding me into faster and rougher pace.

I lean my forehead on his once more, darting my tongue to his lips. He chases my tongue, catching it between his teeth, then does the same to my lips. I whimper when I taste blood. He licks the iron off and trails kisses to my ear, "come on my cock, baby, want you to come with me."

I whimper out and nod, "Gwayne."

"Come on," he mutters, "come, my love."

Pressure builds inside me, and we soon both grow erratic. There is a thick silence before guttural cries reverberate through the room. My body comes alive. The thick, hot, pleasure is so intense my breath is knocked out of my lungs and I quickly feel myself seize up.

My husband, ever dutiful, sinks his nails into my thighs and fucks out every last bit of the melting sensation from the both of us. A hoarse noise rips from my throat and makes my toes curl into my soles. Gwayne even overcompensates and plows into me until I'm reeling. I knew it was too much for him too, and so I supply him with the shaky whimpers I knew he desperately craves.

I feel lightheaded by the time he stops. He rests his head on me before finally collapsing on his back, taking me down with him. His chest rises and falls rapidly, our skin now sticky with sweat.

His hands rest on my thighs. I bring mine to both his shoulders. I pant against his jaw, "that was intense."

He hums, "well," he huffs, "you missed me too much."

"No," I nuzzle into his neck and draw shapes on his skin, "you missed me too much."

He brushes his nose against my head, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I didn't miss you at all."

"Good. I didn't miss you either."

He rubs my skin, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Out of nowhere, he whines in a high pitched voice, "OH Gwayne- OH! You feel so gOOD- AH AH-"

I swat him and with a dropped jaw. I lift my head and glare at him, "I did NOT say that!"

Gwayne's eyes fall on me, lips pursing. He brings one arm behind his head and takes the other to my cheek. My belly flutters at the sight of him. He was beautiful like this, shining after our love making. His rough thumb rubs my face, "pity." He brushes my hair back, "I'm going to have to fix that."

I roll my eyes at him but I am unable to fight back my smile.

He smiles back. His eyes soften and his voice is careful, "... did you miss me, my love?"

"Gods," I nearly roll my eyes at the back of my head, "oh, my sweet boy. My sweet pathetic boy who I so terribly missed."

He grins. The lines by on his cheeks only deepen when he laughs.

My stomach rolls again. I speak in earnest, capturing his cheek, "every day, I thank the Seven that I bask in your beauty."

Gwayne's eyes rove over me. He rubs my arm, "we should have another babe."

I scoff, "Gwayne-"

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marsprincess889 · 18 days ago

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Yoni animal observations

I did something similar with nakshatras. This is them in a very simple way. This is based on traditional associations as well as my own observations of real life and art. 💕 The word "yoni", as well as meaning the female reproductive organ, also means "origin". Yoni animal represents the instinct of the nakshatra and ultimately, reveals its true core nature.

Also, disclaimer: it's very sad that I have to say this, and apologies if you're not one of those people, but if you're going to correct anything in this post by writing one or more long paragraphs of why you think I'm wrong, you might as well just start your own blog or make your own post about the subject. I've been observing yoni animals for years and I'm kind of sorry if any of this offends you, but I'm not trying to attack anyone personally, or even a specific placement (nakshatras in this case), cause that's just dumb. Of course, everyone is free to express their opinions but please do it politely and have some respect for the person who took their time to gain and share knowledge. It's very easy to correct others, it's very hard to be faultless yourself. So, factual corrections are always welcome(say someone got someone's chart placement wrong, or they have written a factually incorrect association, like if they were to write that Jyeshta is fierce as opposed to sharp/cruel in nature.), but, once again, everyone's view is different and so either respect mine or don't write anything at all.

With that being said, you can now enjoy this post💕

Horse yonis

Ashwini and Shatabhisha

Keywords: activity, simplicity, masculinity(solar/yang), independence, healing.

Straightforward people. They might tend to have black and white thinking, can be very blunt with their delivery and definitely prone to "deafness": not hearing others' views. Simple and utilitarian, goal-oriented. Their presence might not be really noticed until the moment they suddenly speak up about or act on something. Love to point stuff out. Either quiet or very precise while speaking. Not aggressive but can be combative. Most likely will oppose someone before making peace. Independence>sharing. Don't like anything "unnecessary", love to get to the point.

Elephant yonis

Bharani and Revati

Keywords: slow, authority, time, timelessness, strength, transitions, protection, completion, gentleness, complexity, depth.

Not revealing their innermost selves, only revealing it to a select group of people, if to anyone. They attach meaning to things based on their experiences. Protective and gentle with each other, closed off to most of the others. Very private. Not really concerned with trends. Observant but not quick to act. Can have many sides to them that some others might fail to understand. Have an air of wisdom, but not that of arrogance. Still, they are the most likely to knowingly take the high road but still protect their peace, making them very exclusive, although it's never for show. Defensive but quietly so. Accomodating to some degree on the outside, there's always more to them than what's obvious. See the bigger picture in every situation. They have a certain quiet strength and power. Nurture is important to them. Do not appreciate unnecessary aggression and try to dominate over anything they consider harsh/crude.

Sheep yonis

Krittika and Pushya

Keywords: precision, structure, minimalism, choosiness, contained.

Do not like excess in anything. They have a sense of balance, usually in almost everything. Prioritize sctructure and basics/essentials. Like clarity and clear-cut lines in their lives and around them. Can be snappy, but in a passive-aggressive way. Not harsh in a heavy/overwhelming way but still harsh about details. Have a soft demeanor with strangers and acquaintances, sometimes even people close to them in everyday life but can judge them quietly. Neutral to friendly on the outside, but if they have uncomfortable emotions they try hard to release them quietly/without much fuss. Might bottle up resentment in result. Very utilitarian and practical.

Snake yonis

Rohini and Mrigashira

Keywords: enjoyment, ease, materialism, basic awareness, growth, progress, sensory indulgence, instincts.

Very placid and calm. They focus mainly on material things but can live without luxuries, and can also share them, although privacy is very important to them. Very aware of their surroundings and their own presence. Attuned to their senses. Can get easily attached to people and things. Can exhibit selfish tendencies(or that's how it looks to others) when they feel like their desires are ignored, but Rohini and Mrigashira each do it differently.

Dog yonis

Ardra and Mula

Keywords: upheaval, critical point, rebelling, release, change, anchoring.

Tense but not frail. Might look tortured sometimes. Do not like to and probably even cannot focus on details, at least not how it's traditionally done(different to each situation). Like to display their individuality in one way or another. Dark humor or sassy comebacks. Either quiet or very loud, but either way, opinionated. If they're neutral then they're opinionated about being neutral. Can be kind of nihilistic but at peace with it. Contrarian and unapologetic. If they don't care about something you can't make them care. If they do care, they care intensely.

Cat yonis

Punarvasu and Ashlesha

Keywords: accumulation, buildup, purity, safety, protection, preservation, cycles.

Concerned with what influences them, not so much what they put out. Self-focused but also highly aware of others' needs. Can adapt to surroundings and can change their behavior based on what they need or really want. Not unkind but laser-focused on the boundaries. Always keep their cards close to their chest, not out of malice but simply to preserve their safety. Look more unnaproachable than they really are, and know more than they share with most.

Rat yonis

Magha and Purva Phalguni

Keywords: dispersion, creativity, planting seeds, the self.

Can be egocentric. Prideful and nonchalant. Love to show off. Might be aware of surroundings to some degree but even if they are, they rarely care. Getting what they want is the priority, along with self-expression. Not very moralistic, don't care much about labels. Sometimes they can be too detached. Will almost never catch them crying in front of others, although they can be dramatic if they want and can, without a problem, attract their dwsired attention. Their happiness is more warm and generous than loud and euphoric. Might have a poker face, they rarely show strong emotions. The strongest emotion I've seen them express is that of defensiveness, and that's not even an emotion. When they get defensive it's almost always because something has touched their pride or triggered their ego. Focused on what they can do.

Cow yonis

Uttara Phalguni and Uttara Bhadrapada

Keywords: stability, the long-term results, natural, softness, power/influence, unity, calm.

Stubborn. That's the only defense they have, because otherwise they're very soft. Naturally honest. They have an effortlessness about them that feels easy to be around, and they are pleasant to be around but not accepting of everyone. They avoid people they don't like from early on and stick to the ones they consider better. Not hesitant to defend themselves or people close to them, but not quick to waste that energy on just anyone, and when they do become defensive they still maintain "the high ground". Backing their allies and fighting proudly is natural for them. Again, very stubborn, so they rarely, if ever, give up on something important. Although they're tough, they're not sharp or cruel. They are mostly in a state calmness and assuredness rather than anxious defensiveness. Very fixed and comfortable in their ways.

Buffalo yonis

Hasta and Swati

Keywords: materialism, gain, comfort, strength, feminine(yin), ease.

More attached to material things than other yonis. Individuality is defined through connections and surroundings. Love comfort and ease. Interdependence>independence. Can be curiously neutral and accomodating. Self-focused but not selfish. Often phlegmatic and slow. Genuinely caring but can be cunning. Not the most direct people. They will let others know their views but won't push them aggressively on others. Almost everything about them is filtered through that neutrality.

Tiger yonis

Chitra and Vishakha

Keywords: building, gradual, defensive, expression, buildup.

The most defensive. Can look sweet on the outside but are not all soft. Can range from extremely forgiving to extremely vengeful. Aggression comes out while speaking. Rarely, if ever, present in a state of calm melancholy. They moreso go from happy/fun to agitated. Focused on development/building, and always look for more than what's natural for them. Witty but emotionally so. If they're highly agitated, it's very hard for them to exercise restraint in the moment. Not that direct in general but unfiltered during critical moments. It's easy for them to put on a mask, whether out of neccessity or just for fun. Can be very judgemental. If they're not aware, it can make them act in a "mean" way when they feel not their best.

Rabbit/Deer yonis

Anuradha and Jyeshta

Keywords: society, organization, status quo, responsibility, transpersonal, maturing.

Very non-aggressive on the inside, despite how they might look. Naturally have endurance and a sense of responsibility. Can be judgemental but also understanding. Love to give advice. Competitive but respectful. Can become arrogant. Love everything "classic" but want to establish their own, new structures. Choosy and sometimes exclusive. More warm than they appear, and capable of more emotions than how it seems. Often traditionally intelligent. Have a very civilized behavior.

Vanar yonis

Purva Ashadha and Shravana

Keywords: flow, alliances, connections, support, creation and preservation.

Good at reading between the lines, anything too structured is harsh for them. Otherworldly aura/mannerisms. Most likely to posses what others might consider as "quirks". Value their own individuality and uniqueness. Seeks to be different from what they consider boring, normal or basic. Not very reactive. When they get defensive, they get quiet. Can romatisize sadness and melancholy. Capable of seeing both sides but are often willingly biased.

Mongoose yoni

Uttara Ashadha

Keywords: independence, solitude, practicality, victory.

Truly neutral and unbothered. Value honesty and integrity. Not attached to material things at all. Easy to be around but their regal nature might put some people ill at ease. Naturally take on leadership positions. Might feel lonely but won't trade solitude for tiring/uninteresting company. Value practicality and simplicity, and are practical themselves. Surprsingly warm and feeling in certain moments, but can also be uncaring towards others.

Lion yonis

Dhanishta and Purva Bhadrapada

Keywords: notoriety, flashiness, power, aggression, pride.

Very unfiltered and loudly so. Unashamed and bold, proud. That pride and confidence fuels their calmness, but they can lack patience. In everyday interactions they can look very unreactive but if something "triggers" them, they will not hesitate to be a little(or not so little) aggressive. Love to spread their influence. Might strongly dislike anything that looks subtle and quiet to them, as it arises distrust in them. Rarely, if ever, use/appreciate sarcasm. They prefer directness. Can slip into being a bully, or can become a proud voice for others.

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midnighvtm4ss · 3 months ago

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omg I feel like if anyone could write this right it’s going to be you. we need arthur FLUFF with a reader on her period!!!

RISES THE MOON

cw: fluff, toothaching fluff, period cramps, arthur is a sweetheart, please arthur marry me :( wrote this on my notes app, grammar errors

wc: 1,8k

a/n: this piece was so comforting to write aaa thank you anon for the request <33 i hope this will soothe anyone who’s having period pain rn, i suggest you listen to this song and this one, i had them on loop while writing this. This piece is shorter than the others but I think it suits the mood in a way,, idk ! enjoy!!

The last few notes of the sweet melody coming from Javier’s guitar floated quietly in the air.

The night had fallen gently over the camp, wrapping everything in a quiet, soothing stillness. The campfire flickered softly, casting a golden light on the nearby trees, creating a cozy circle of warmth for those near it. Most of the gang had long since retired for the night, leaving only the faintest murmur of voices in the distant watching post and the occasional pops and cracks of burning wood.

You stood near the fire, trying to find some relief from the chill in the air, but more than that, you were trying to ease the dull ache that spread through your body. The cramps had been like little devils on your lower belly throughout your day, starting as a minor constant discomfort but now growing into something more relentless, making you wince with every movement and your back aching with every step.

Your day was filled with chores left and right as some of the girls left camp and went into town under the request of various groceries items for Pearson’s wagon. You wanted to join them but unfortunately your body had other plans. You came up with a simple excuse and promised to go with them another time. You hadn’t mentioned the true cause to anyone—it was just your period, no need to alarm anyone after all—but now, at the end of the day, you were desperately ready to crawl into the comfort of your bed and hope the night might lend you some kind of relief.

Arthur had been finishing up his usual nightly chores, checking on the horses and bringing them fresh hay. He always had a fondness for horses, no matter if they were his or someone else’s. His love for them often found sketched freely in the various pages of his journal. As he made his way back from the hitching post his eyes scanned the surroundings, making sure the camp was in order for the night. His eyes, like magnets drifted to your figure near the campfire.

You could feel his eyes on you, catching the small signs of discomfort you tried so hard to hide behind your calm demeanor. But he noticed something was off, he always noticed. The way your hand kept drifting to hold your stomach, the subtle wince that crossed your face when you thought no one was looking—it didn’t slip past him.

The crunching sound of boots on dirt floated in the air making its way towards you. You knew who it was and you took a moment to regain yourself and put on a calm façade.

“Y’alright, darlin’?” The gentle rumble of his voice pulled you out of your thoughts as he came to sit down on the log beside you, his gaze full of quiet concern as he searched your face for any hint of discomfort.

“Sure,” You tried to smile through the ache, not wanting to make a fuss. “just a little sore from the day. It’s nothing.”

But Arthur wasn’t one to brush things off, especially when it came to you. He studied your face for a moment, his brow furrowing making a small expression line form between his brows in that familiar way that told you he wasn’t about to let it go. Without saying anything, he slipped a warm, steady hand to the small of your back, moving it in small comforting circles.

“Come on,” he sighted, his voice still soft but insistent. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”

He guided you away from the fire and toward the tent. You didn’t argue. The idea of lying down, of finally resting, sounded too good to resist.

The two of you slipped into the quiet of the tent, Arthur hand left yours to go and close the front flap of the tent and light up the creaky old lantern on the makeshift bedside table, the lantern casting a soft glow over the familiar space.

The moment you sank down onto the bed, you let out a long sigh, curling up slightly to your side in an attempt to relieve some of the tension in your belly. But even then, the cramps persisted, growing stronger by the minute.

Arthur knelt beside the cot, his arms folded on the soft mattress watching with that careful, gentle intensity of his. He reached for the blanket, tucking it around you with a tenderness so far different from his usual hard front he put up with everyone. Then, without a word, he got up, kicking his boots away and settled down beside you, his large frame stretching out on the bedroll as he gently pulled you into his arms resting your head on his firm chest.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he whispered. His breath warm against your temple as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you higher against his chest.

You melted into him, resting your head against his chest, your body relaxing instantly in the comfort of his embrace. Arthur’s warmth surrounded you, his steady presence already making you feel better, more at ease. His hands, rough from all the manual work, moved with a soft, gentle care. One hand drifting under your nightgown towards your lower belly, the action far from sexual while the other moved to untangle your hair from the simple hairstyle you had for the day.

“That time of the month?”

You let out a muffled grumble against the fabric of his red union suit as an answer, making Arthur let out a small laugh.

“I can tell it’s hurtin’ you,” he said quietly, his voice low and soothing as his thumb began to rub slow, comforting circles over your stomach. “Let me help.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a soft breath as the warmth of his hand started to ease some of the ache. His touch was gentle, massaging your lower belly putting just enough pressure to soothe the tension without causing more discomfort. The pain didn’t go away completely, but the care in his movements, the way he held you, made your heart sing with joy making it easier to bear the pain.

“That’s better,” you whispered, your voice soft with relief. “Thank you.”

Arthur’s lips curved into a faint smile, though you could feel the ghost of worry still lingering in the way his hand moved over your belly, never stopping, never hesitating. “You don’t gotta thank me for takin’ care of you, darlin’,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’d do it every day if I had to.”

“Be careful of what you wish for, Mister. I might start to demand more if you spoil me”

“Oh I can’t wait,” he teased. “Forever at your service mylady.”

His words made your heart swell with warmth. Arthur wasn’t the type to shower you with flowery words or grand gestures, but it was in moments like these that his love showed itself at its truest form—in the quiet, steady way he was always there, making you smile, always looking out for you, even when you didn’t ask for it.

For a while, the two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in a cocoon of warmth. The moon rose higher in the sky and the outside world faded away. Arthur’s hand continued its slow, soothing movements, his touch tender and full of care, and little by little, the pain in your belly began to ease ever so slightly. You felt the tension melting away under the work of his hands, the cramps becoming a dull background ache rather than the sharp, insistent pain it had been just an hour ago.

“Y’know,” Arthur said after a long moment of comfortable silence, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet, “I remember Miss Grimshaw used to make me and John chamomile tea when we had stomach cramps.” his hands never stopped their movement.

“Marston used to drink a lot of it—that poor bastard always seemed to eat the nastiest shit he could find around,” he laughed lightly, reminiscing of the early days of the gang when a camp cook seemed such a privilege.

“Anyway, I can make you some if you want,”

You smiled against his chest, the simple thoughtfulness of his offer making your heart ache with affection. “That sounds nice,” you whispered, though truthfully, you were already feeling better just being in his arms.

“I don’t know how much it can be of help but it’s better than nothin’”

Arthur shifted slightly. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

Before you could protest for the lack of his warmth against you, he slipped out of the tent, moving with that same quiet efficiency he always had.

A few minutes passed, you were almost asleep when Arthur came back and with him the chill night breeze entered the tent waking you up.

“There,” he said softly, his deep voice full of quiet satisfaction as he sat the mug down the bedside table. He sat down beside you, pulling you up into a seated position before handing you the tin mug filled with the golden brown liquid. “This should hopefully help.”

You nestled into him, feeling the warmth of the mug and the steady, grounding presence of Arthur beside you. It was amazing how he could make everything feel better, just by being there—by holding you and letting you know, without words, that he was there for you.

A comforting silence fell on both of you as you drank your tea slowly, feeling your whole body relaxing with each warm sip you took.

After a while, the pain in your belly faded into the background, and you found yourself growing drowsy in the soft cocoon of warmth and care that Arthur had created around you. You laid down again and Arthur followed your action putting your head on his chest. His hand moved to your back, tracing lazy, soothing patterns there, his fingers brushing gently over your spine.

“Y’know there’s no need to hide when you’re hurtin’. You’re always helping everyone around, sometimes you gotta stop and look after y’rself.”

“Arthur,” you whispered, your voice full of sleep and gratitude. “I love you so much, I don’t deserve you.”

He huffed a soft laugh, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed another kiss to your temple. “Ain’t no such thing,” he murmured, “you deserve more than me.”

His words, so downgrading for himself yet full of love for you, made your heart ache in the best way.

“You’re everything I need,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your eyelids grew heavy. As you drifted off to sleep, wrapped safely in Arthur’s arms, the pain and discomfort of the day faded away completely, replaced by the quiet, steady warmth of his love.

#.rira’s posting ౨ৎ ⋆#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead fanfiction #rdr2 x reader #x reader

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kiwi-on-ice · 3 months ago

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can u do 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 lifeweaver x gn!reader ? i found u on tiktok and i loved ur lifeweaver slides!

Favourite positions headcannons with Lifeweaver, Cole Cassidy, Ramattra, Lucio, Genji and Reinhardt with gn!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: 18+ smut, reader is implied to have a pussy (or at least be a bottom lmao), dom/sub dynamics and degradation present in Ramattra’s.

Notes: just wanted to do a quick post to say thank you all so much for nearly 300 followers! I’m grateful for you all xx

Lifeweaver:

Oh this is a certified lover boy right here. Best believe he wants a position where he can see your face, where most of your body is exposed to his gaze.

That’s why missionary is always his go to, he’s able to thrust into you while keeping a hand on your cheek to ensure your pretty eyes are on him. So he can gaze down at you lovingly and watch your facial expression as you react to every movement.

It also gives him the ability to pinch and play with your nipples, smiling at the sounds that escape your throat as he lavishes you in praise.

But his absolute favourite thing to do in this position is fold you over yourself, knees pressed to your chin so he can slam into you in a mating press, letting you feel him all the way in your guts.

Because he’s so big, he dwarfs you and ensures all you can think about is him, all you can focus on is his cock thrusting in and out of you rapidly. Loves to kiss you in that position, mumbling against your hips how good you take him, how much he wants to fill you up with his cum for being so so good for him. But before he does that you’ll have to cum first.

Apart from that, any position where he has you in front of a mirror is perfect for him. He’ll set you on his lap so he can play and toy with your body, telling you intricate praises and compliments. If you’re a self conscious person, he’ll make you repeat them back to him while keeping your eyes on the mirror as he brings you over the edge again and again.

Alternatively, he might not even fuck you at all, perfectly content with you sitting on his face as he gives you the pleasure he knows you deserve.

Cole Cassidy:

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again. Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

He loves it if you ride him, the sight of you moving up and down on his lap. The sight of every angle of your body being on show for him to watch. The sight of his cock disappearing into your hole with every bounce.

Doesn’t care if it makes him look lazy, he’ll just lay back into the pillows, one hand stroking your hip while the other puffs the cigar in his mouth, occasionally offering it to you.

Now if you really want him to go feral, take his cowboy hat off and put it on yourself. You’ll feel him throb inside you as she growls, teasing you about it as he starts to thrust up inside you.

Now he’s an ass man, so when he isn’t gripping your ass while you ride him, he’s gripping and slapping your ass while he takes you from behind, another favourite of his.

Just loves to see it ripple with every thrust, and how you squeak or moan when he spanks you. Depending on the day he’s had, he’ll pump into you in methodical strokes while teasing you, or he’ll fuck into you hard and fast, chasing his pleasure.

Don’t be surprised if he’s puffing his cigar in that position too, the scent filling your nostrils before you even realised he’d lit it, too preoccupied by how deep he reaches as he forces your back to arch.

Ramattra:

Yeah he also likes doggy style, for more…dominating reasons.

Will love to push your head into the mattress, pounding into you while he mocks you for being so pathetic, so desperate to be filled that you’d let a dangerous omnic fuck you and toy with you just so you could find release.

He’d pull your hair, making your back arch for him as he railed you. Just loves to see how pliable your body is when he has you like this, and the noises that fall from your throat. Will also spank you to elicit similar noises, and best believe you’ll have a handprint on your ass to prove it.

And he could even pick you up in that position, moving you into a full nelson as your body jolts with each punishing thrust upwards.

Alternatively, he likes fucking you against the wall. Displays his sheer strength as he can just manhandle you to a position of his liking, you legs dangling pathetically as he has his way with you.

Although he loves fucking you while you’re facing him in that position, your legs wrapped around his waist as he holds you steady against the wall with his hands on your hips and ass. He won’t want to admit it, but it makes his internal fans whirl louder when he sees you face in ecstasy as you gaze up at him longingly.

However if you’ve been a brat, then you clearly don’t deserve the cock he graciously had fitted just to please you, so he’ll love to watch you hump his leg instead as he sits proud in his chair, legs spread. If you please him enough he might let you sit on his lap and hump his thigh instead. And if you please him just right, if your begs and grovelling are to his satisfaction, he may even let you sink down on him and ride him till he short circuits.

Lucio:

My sweet baby, he’s such a romantic!!! His favourite would definitely be missionary, you guys are just so close like that.

He’ll be holding your hand like a lifeline, gentle and measured strokes inside you as he rests his forehead against yours. Would love to feel all your little gasps against his lips, feeling your chests so close, his thumb soothingly running over the back of your hand. He’s always got you <3

However every man has needs, and Lucio is no different. So if you ask to ride him, he definitely isn’t gonna say no. It’ll be the positon he’s the most vocal in for sure, whines and grunts tumbling out his lips as you use his dick to get off.

He’ll be grabbing everywhere and anywhere, needing to feel useful as you make his eyes roll back with pleasure. Grabbing handfuls of your ass or hips or chest or thighs. Anywhere.

If you hold his hands in this position his hips will twitch, breath shaky as he pleads with you to let him fuck up into you. The whines will just tumble from his mouth, the grip on your hands tight, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

Alternatively, if you’re wearing shorts…please let him hit it from the back. His favourite if you’re having a quickie before his show, pushing into you fast as you bend over his dressing table and present yourself for him. Or even against the door if you’re brave enough, both of you struggling to be quiet as his manager knocks on the wood and tells your boyfriend he’s due on stage in 5 minutes.

Genji:

Another man who loves you riding him. After becoming mostly cybernetic, he’s hyper aware of his own strength, as well as the way he looks now. You being on top allows him to peace of mind that he isn’t gonna accidentally hurt you, or crush you.

But also my god he loves watching the show. The way your hips move and circle to get the most pleasure, your hand gripping at his metal chest to steady yourself, the look on your face as the sensations build and build inside of you. He’ll instinctively go to hold your hips, perhaps accidentally holding that bit too tight so it leaves bruises.

But that position is perfect for praising him, telling him how good he feels, how beautiful you think he is. That’ll really make him whimper, audible over the soft plap of your thighs against him. Instinctively he’ll buck up at the praise, driving his cock deep inside you as he whines in embarrassment and pleasure at your complimentary words.

Hold his hands too, regardless of position he’d like for you to hold on to his hand or arms, makes him feel like you trust him, that you look to him for a source of comfort and security. He might even place something cozy and fuzzy on so you have a gentle fabric to hold.

Reinhardt:

Missionary, a classic position for a classic man. Loves how small you look under him, how his big arms practically dwarf your head as he braces himself above you. Sure he’s no spring chicken anymore, but he can still fuck you the way a pretty thing like you deserve.

And if you teasingly imply he can’t fuck you for too long, or suggest you can get on top instead? Well, that’s pretty much the only time his gentlemanly facade will crack, as he drives into you at a pace most young men wouldn’t dream of; his big cock filling you up so completely that your eyes will be rolling.

But most times he’s the epitome of a gentle giant, gently kissing you as he rocks slowly in and out of your smaller body, his beard gently tickling your neck and shoulder as he leaves small love bites on your skin.

But listen, if you’re with him you’re gonna most likely have a thing for his size and strength. So he will definitely pick you up while you guys are fucking if that’s what his sweetheart wants. With a firm grip on your hips he’ll encourage you to wrap your thighs around him so he can fuck you against the wall, your head against his scarred chest.

In that position, you’ll hear the rumbling in his chest as he moans, telling you how good you are, how stunning you are in his arms; it’s like you belong there. And if you’re fucking him after a mission, he’ll ramble about how he’s always gonna protect you, that it’s his duty to keep you safe and content as you cum around his big cock.

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ranticore · 26 days ago

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some more horse guy fashions, specifically historical

erased the mandolin for this one goodbye mandolin i couldn't be bothered drawing you

so my thought process for this is like what would a society of, lbr, british ppl who are horses value and how would that translate into what they wear if they specifically don't have a taboo against nudity. these fashions are pre-florian conversion (florian was the guy who gave them all government-mandated shame) and considered traditional (the full coverage dresses are also traditional but to a post-florian period so those would be called like. idk. classical). they were still in use in the enclaves north of ironwall for quite a while. anyway returning to the point, the answer to 'what they value' is movement. in actual horses, herd hierarchy and social function is based off movement - free movement for animals for whom the flight response is so strong is an incredibly important thing. dominance in horses is expressed and reinforced by controlling and curtailing the movement of subordinates. for these people, free movement was enhanced by kinetic fashion - free-flowing garments like capes, loosely-pinned headgear with feathers and floaty cloth, and noise-generating devices like bells and chimes were all used to elaborate and enhance the appearance of somebody's gait. the overall look was mostly based off of morris dancers (pheasant feathers, bells on the legs, handkerchiefs) because i like the tie-in to suppression of folk dance by puritans. i think these guys would have some great folk dances

in much the same way trainers are just normal everyday footwear now, game kerchiefs/flags were worn in non-sports contexts because it suffused into the mainstream and became Cool. the flags were used in a game similar to tag rugby if you've ever seen that played (where snatching people's flags is used instead of full contact tackling, forcing someone who's been 'tagged' to stand still until the flags are returned). as i said before somewhere, centaur team sports go incredibly hard.

the tail ornaments were status symbols and in appearance a bit like the traditional show turnout of shire horses. woven grass and straw could be used for a temporary ornament like these, but metal or carved wood were really impressive, and very common gifts of favour between romantic partners. more flags could be hung there if you wanted to be really cool

variations of this style of mane décor were also employed (they loved their ribbons)

in the same time period, Ironwall fashion was a little bit different. These expensive caparisons were usually purchased secondhand after a real horse was done wearing them, with distinct front and back halves of different length. The garments would usually have the original liveries removed and replaced by generic religious iconography as few centaurs would ever have their own heraldry. Later, in the Georgian and Victorian eras, full coverage to the pasterns with a single undergarment was the only acceptable option (that's the classical style now) The rest of the picture is self-evident, but centaurs at the time wore additional... equipment on the withers which were called a variety of very colourful names but mostly referred to as gelding bars (as in, they will geld you if you sit on them). they were metal and spiked. these were introduced by the florian government to discourage the grossly inappropriate contact of one person's legs around another. previously there was no great taboo against riding on a centaur's back, it wasn't super common but nobody was like "this is basically public sex" until our pal centaur cromwell i mean florian came along and decided this was the work of the devil. young people were also made to wear these to discourage the homosocial behaviour very common to the mid-20s age groups of both sexes, and they also had a place in preventing stallions from wrestling (ironically increasing the danger of their fights because well now all we can do is stand back and kick). the wearing of these devices was mandatory. headcoverings were not strictly necessary, and neither were fully-wrapped tails, but some especially devout citizens took to it quite well.

#long fucking post. well too bad #in case it wasn't like super obvious. the country ironwall is set in is Basically Just Britain #having a blast with placeholder guy. go king. i think this is actually his time period #his proportions are very different to like pascals or whoever because he's only 13hh #ironwall

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bringthekaos · 18 days ago

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I'm excited for your thoughts on the new season if/when you share them

It has legit taken me 3 days to come to terms with Act 1. Enough to be able to speak about it. Gunna apologize in advance for the wall of text, and I’m hiding it under a break for spoiler reasons. Also prefacing with these are all just my opinions. All are free to disagree with me and RB with discussions/theories etc. just don’t be a dick about it, I’m not engaging in any discourse.

Ok. So. I have mixed feelings, and I’m aware that this is because I don’t have the whole story yet. So this is all contingent on how the rest of the season plays out.

First and foremost, I’m… wildly swinging back and forth between love and disappointment for Viktor’s arc. So first the negative, and I’ll try to keep it brief because a lot of people have already expressed this and I don’t need to be beating that particular dead horse.

Viktor has had his agency, his bodily autonomy, his original ideas and nearly everything that made him Viktor stripped away. Nothing so far has been his choice. And while this could have worked just fine for an original character, he wasn’t. So there is a massive disconnect between what this character was/should have been. In League, it was all his choice (albeit with a healthy dose of mental illness thrown in, but still). AND it was very heavily suggested that many of the augmentations he performed weren’t as extensive as he lead everyone to believe (namely the controlling/dousing of his emotions). But it appears that whatever the Hexcore did to him, it’s real. He is clearly having a difficult time accessing his emotions, and if he can feel anything, it is limited to the point of him being completely stoic. And the thing with stoic characters is that you obliterate any emotional payoff for the audience. It’s very hard to make an audience feel an emotional connection to a character’s story arc when they themselves don’t feel anything (I have a theory about this though, but I’ll address it a little later in this post). And then there is the issue of Blitzcrank. Blitz was Viktor’s whole world, after his exile. How are they going to swing that? Like, I’m not even asking for Blitz to be in Arcane (that would be great, but I really don’t think they have time). But I stg if they take Blitz away from Viktor, make them someone else’s invention (my suspicion is Heimer or he finds the idea in Sky’s journal)… I’m sorry but no. This was Viktor’s idea, Viktor’s genius. I will genuinely be extremely upset if they take that from him too.

Then there is the whole situation with Sky. First, this girl was fridged. She was nothing but a plot device and continues to be just that. It feels hollow and forced, especially now that he’s hallucinating her as some sort of penance for what he did. (I have seen the prevalent theory that it’s the Hexcore using her image and his guilt to manipulate him, given that it “ate” her, and we have seen it “manipulate” him before when it punished him for trying to destroy it). But back to Sky—he barely acknowledged that poor girl. The reason for that can be argued, whether it’s because he’s gay or because he was just so wrapped up in his one-track minded research. But regardless, there just wasn’t enough setup between those two for this whole thing to have as much weight and meaning as I think it’s supposed to. Honestly to me (TO ME) it reeks of comphet. It feels like that random woman they threw at Poe Dameron to No Homo him. I’m not even asking for Jayvik canon. But the creators were well aware of this ship, after all it’s the second most popular ship in this show and it’s been around since 2012 when Jayce was literally created for Viktor. I’m asking for the bare minimum here—that it’s left open-ended as it was in League, open for interpretation.

Last negative I have is the whole Viktor Jesus thing. The first problem is I am pretty violently agnostic, and messiah narratives have never spoken to me. I don’t enjoy them, they feel weak. The whole “ordained by a higher power” thing is just… stale. Especially when this character originally had no higher power, he gave it to himself through his own hard work and ingenuity. Honestly, Viktor’s original arc is about as far from a Jesus allegory as you can possibly get. And I am absolutely terrified that they’re going to end said Jesus arc the way you’d expect—with him dying for it. Which leaves the moral of his story “disabled man should have just accepted that he was going to die despite the fact that it was the oppression and xenophobia of Piltover that left him out to dry, without proper health care, accessibility, equality, or equity that lead to his terminal diagnosis to begin with.” Which is a very oppressor-centric narrative and we do not need another one of those.

Sorry, I know I said I’d keep the negatives brief, and that was… not. My bad. But moving on!

I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, I did. I am working to embrace this new Viktor narrative and work it into my brain in a way that doesn’t ruin the ship for me. So without further ado, the positives.

Jayce.

I’d have to go back and time it, but it feels like he got more screen time in this first act than the entirety of the first season combined, and his character shined for it. It humanized him in ways season one never did. He’s caring, he’s devoted, and he loved Viktor! No matter what kind of love you think it is, it proves he loved Viktor without a doubt. He carried Viktor several city blocks to the lab to save him, and then YES, he broke his promise about the Hexcore because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing him!

And he’s funny! (The scene where he picks up the regular sized hammer in the fight against Renni and made that “this is ironic” face?? And then basically the entire interaction with Ekko? The hand me a tome thing, and then when he basically pulled this when Ekko suggested “so this is all your fault cuz you pissed off the Arcane”:

GOD that shit was great. Jayce’s personality just shined, and maybe it’s too much to hope, but maybe this will douse a little of the hate. Because instead of being a subtle hint at all of those things being true about him, it’s now overt. And when people lack media literacy, the hints have to be overt.

And th-the. The h. The HUG SCENE. I don’t think I will ever emotionally recover from that scene. Starting with Viktor who, despite being clearly emotionally—I dunno, vacant I guess—sounded so lost and scared when he said “what am I?” For me, it was whispers of that scene from The Last Unicorn: “what have you done to me?” And my poor sweet Jayce, who clearly hasn’t left this damn lab except to go to Cassandra’s memorial. Sleeping on the desk and bleeding through his bandages because he doesn’t want to spend a moment away from Viktor while he “recovers.” And his euphoric response when he finds Viktor alive, when he realizes he hasn’t lost him. And I OWE HIM AN APOLOGY, goddamn. I said in a post that “Jayce will not understand.” I thought that was how Arcane was gunna start the divorce. But Jayce genuinely did not care, as long as his lover friend was alive. And just… Jayce being so affectionate through this entire scene. The hug obviously, but also blurting things he thought he’d never get to say to Viktor—“I’m resigning from the council, my place was always here in the lab with you.”

And… the hug itself. I know we’re all analyzing it frame by goddamn frame, but I see exactly what everyone else sees—there is a moment where Viktor very subtly smiles. But it’s gone in an instant, and it turns bittersweet. LOOK AT HIM.

There is something there, it’s just buried. Deep beneath the surface. It seems to say “I want this, I have wanted this for so long.” But then he realizes something, something I don’t think we’re meant to understand yet. Maybe that he doesn’t feel anything about it anymore, and he recognizes that this should upset him and it doesn’t. Or perhaps it’s something more along the lines of “it’s too late.” Whatever it is, I think this is the exact moment he knows he has to walk away. Because he knows he’ll cave to the affection, he said it himself. (Which is another thing entirely. His voice changes when he says that. Something in him is reacting to that word. Maybe he’s fighting against it, or maybe he’s fighting to get it back. But something made him almost growl that word.)

Which leads me to my final thought (for this post anyway, cuz it’s turning into a novel); Viktor is still in there. He can still feel things, I just think they’re extremely muted by whatever the Hexcore did/continues to do to him, or he has to fight to express them. Because he also smiled at the hallucination of Sky after he “cured” Huck. And if he feels nothing, he wouldn’t have been “joyous” at the thought of her being proud of him, approving of the good things he’s trying to do in her memory. He wouldn’t crave that validation, that vindication from her. So I’m hopeful that we start to see this shell crack a little, especially if those visions of Sky are the Hexcore manipulating him through guilt. It will start to erode him, no matter how stoic he has become. And literally the only thing I’m clinging to is that Jayce will see this and try to pull him out. “He’s still in there and I have to save him.” And that maybe it’ll start to work.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane season two #arcane s2 spoilers #jayvik #jayce talis #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #asks #ace answers

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anna1306 · 3 months ago

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The Gone Prince

Daemon Targaryen x brother!Targaryen Reader

I know it has been a long, long, looooong time. I am so sorry for keeping you waiting on that. I am going to return to writing, more or less. can't promise to return to posting every single day, as I did before, but I am going to return to writing and posting. It has been a long time of depressed time, disorganised time and simple no strength time. This part I wrote and rewrote two or three times and I hope you will like what I come up with in the end. Love you all)

Part 1 here

Princess' chambers were big and full of light. It reminded you of quarters of your grandmother, always warm and welcoming to her family. You were sitting there on the sofa, speaking with your niece for the last ten minutes or so. You didn't want anyone to eavesdrop on your conversation, so you approached her later, not during the feast. After that same feast Viserys insisted that Rhaenyra and her family stay in the Red Keep for at least a week or maybe even longer, not wishing for his pregnant daughter to endure two big travels in a row. Also... You had to wait for Daemon to leave her alone. He wouldn't let you talk calmly to each other, not after all these years, you just knew it.

"If the King asked for you, I am glad to have you here." Rhaenyra said, as you noticed hint of coldness in her eyes, probably brought by Daemon's opinion, which he, no doubt, generously shared with his wife. You only smiled in response. You could understand why she didn't trust you fully. And it definitely didn't hurt that much. At least not like it did with your brother.

"You sound just like her, it is crazy." You said quietly. She looked at you confusedly, not understanding your words fully. "Like Aemma." Her expression softened at your words, as her hand came to rest on her rounded belly. "I am sure she is proud of you, watching you from the other side."

"I can only hope so... She never mentioned you, now that I think of it." Princess said. You shrugged, trying to stay calm and nonchalant about it.

"Not many people here did." You tried to hide your feelings behind a smile, something you learned to do long time ago. "I remember her mostly from our childhood. How Viserys was madly in love with her. He often made a fool out of himself and was so scared she would reject him. And Aemma only laughed and smiled at him with so much kindness in her eyes... One time he tried to graciously ride in front of her on the horse to show her that he is a good rider. Poor animal got scared of something and sent him flying face flat on the ground. He was so red in the face, but didn't say a word, I thought he would burst with embarrassment." Rhaenyra laughed, imagining her father at the scene, as you watched her attentively with a little smile on your face.

"I can imagine how amusing that was." She agreed. You nodded, looking away from her, knowing that she was still watching you closely. "Did the King say why he called you back after all those years?"

"To help him. Viserys is... Full of many feelings and guilt is one of them. Guilt for a lot of things, which I am finding out only now. That is one of the reasons I wanted to speak with you." You looked back at her, meeting her gaze. "He wants me to mend the rift in his family." Her smile faded a bit, as she lowered her eyes on her belly. Rhaenyra understood perfectly well what were you talking about without you having to pronounce it. "I was told you were friends with the Queen Consort once, weren't you?"

"It was years ago. I feel like it was the other life." She answered with a sad smile. Rhaenyra looked at you again, her expression once again calm and stoic, almost rid of all emotions. "I once knew a girl, my friend, who was kind, honest, supportive and who looked at bright side of things, who was romantic and hopeful. Now Alicent is different, full of..."

"Spite?" You suggested. The woman nodded slowly, almost unsurely. You sighed, having a strong feeling your emotions about losing someone that close to oneself could be similar in some way. "Tell me, do you think there can be a slight possibility of you getting back to being friends? Or at least... Not at each other's throats?"

"I don't think so. There were many things between us, to lead me to Dragonstone and out of any possibility of mending this. You probably heard about what had happened in Driftmark. She... The Queen showed everyone her true colours. Her true thoughts and intentions behind this righteous facade."

"Lucerys severely wounded her son, I can understand her rage and wish for justice to some extent. Not 'eye for the eye', but still." You argued with her.

"Her son is spewing lies. Both of them. She placed traitorous lies in their minds, spreading rumours about me, about my sons! All of them are just..." She hissed suddenly, grasping her belly and closing her eyes, almost wincing in pain. You shot up from your place immediately, ready to go for help, but Rhaenyra stopped you with a motion of a hand. "I'm fine... Just... Daemon's child is really active." She smiled tiredly, as you clutched your goblet with wine in your hand, distracting yourself from your thoughts with a drink. "Nonetheless... I am not sure there is a way to get through to her." Princess said calmer now.

"If there was a way... A possibility of bringing back this peace, if not friendship. Would you be willing to put the bitter past to rest?" You asked, sitting back on the sofa. Rhaenyra didn't say anything for some time, your words hanging in the air. She diverted her attention from you, watching her maids serving breakfast on the table, long silence surrounding both of you.

"In ideal world... I guess I would want that." She admitted quietly. You smiled to her a bit, nursing wine in the goblet. "She was my friend once, the closest person in this Keep. But what she and her father did..."

"Yes, men like Otto, can influence even the dust to hate the wind." You scoffed, agreeing with her. After seeing what was going on in the Keep, you understood that one of the main roots of problems was the King's Hand. Yes, he helped the King to rule the realms, almost ruling them himself from time to time instead of sick Viserys, but he pursued his own goals first and foremost. You could understand ambitions, it was explainable, but your priorities in this matter were different.

"Alicent isn't innocent. She willingly ate those lies and now she is a spitting image of Otto..." Rhaenyra made a pause, sighing, as she looked at you. "Alicent has that thought that my children aren't... Trueborn. She spreads this rumours everywhere, you know it." You nodded, hearing these rumours already. You had your doubts about it too, but didn't care much, they were children of your niece, that was all you needed to know about their parentage. "Every time I gave birth, she demanded I present my child to her immediately after. She isn't such an innocent girl she claims to be." Your gaze hardened at the realisation. You put away your goblet and looked at Rhaenyra seriously.

"If she orders that you should present your child like this again, don't even move from the bed. I will be near and I will deal with it myself." You promised her. "She can come to you herself if she wishes to see the child so much. And if she doesn't understand why her request is wrong, I will explain it to her personally." You answered her with determination. Princess smiled at you slightly and moved to stand. You helped her up and stepped away from her. "I better give you some space. If I can do anything for you, tell me. And just... Think about possibility of it. Just try..."

"I probably will... Thank you. I appreciate the talk." She nodded, looking at her. While you could see that she still didn't trust you completely, at least you two talked calmly and discussed matters at hand. Just as you were about to leave, the door opened. Daemon walked in, and the air left your lungs at the sight of his figure lightened in the sunlight coming from the windows. His eyes met yours and what little softness he had, instantly turned to coldness and distaste in a second.

"You?" He only said in disgust.

"Me.” You nodded with a sigh. “I am leaving already. Have a good day." You smiled softly at your niece before heading out, not wishing for your brother to get angry at your presence near his wife. He could hate you from the distance, you thought. You could handle it… Even though you were too sober for his hate not to hurt.

***

"It was great!" Jacaerys was almost jumping in his steps excitedly, as he walked a little bit ahead of you. You smiled, taking off your gloves still hearing three loud growls of your dragonbehind you both.

"I am glad you like the ride. They liked you too, little prince." How could you say no to those eyes, when he asked if he could fly with you on your dragon. You understood him, as they were rarity, the first three-headed dragon known to Targaryen House, at least according to the known records.

"Is controlling him different? Different from ours, I mean." He turned to you with a curious look. You shrugged, contemplating your answer.

"You tell me, I only flew on them." His excitement about the new dragon was big. So of course he was curious as to whether or not it was similar to the flight on the one-headed dragon. Vermax wasn't big enough yet, but he flew with his mother already. And you flew on Vhagar with your father or on Caraxes with Daemon too long ago to remember it correctly, so you couldn't really draw the comparison.

"You sure they wouldn't drop me?" Daemon was hesitant, standing several steps behind you, as you petted one of the long necks of your dragon. You turned to him, raising your brow.

"Don't tell me you are afraid." You smirked at your brother teasingly, watching his expression hardening.

"I am never afraid. Not of the dragons, I am a dragon myself!" He exclaimed, earning growl from one of the heads in response. "I just don't know how it would be." Daemon said quieter, glancing between them and you. You smiled, offering him your hand.

"Nuhys zaldrīzes(my dragon), do not fret. You said it yourself, you are a dragon, as they are." He smirked more relaxed, giving you his hand. You pulled him closer, placing his palm near yours. "See?"

"I know what dragons are to the touch, dummy." He scoffed, petting your dragon. You glanced around, making sure noone was there to witness it and kissed him on the cheek. "Hey!"

"Let's go, I want to kiss you in the sky." You smiled at him, grabbing his hand and tugging him to the side of your dragon, to the saddle, hearing his chuckle, as he didn't struggle against your grip one bit.

"I will be next!" Baela’s voice distracted you from your memories. You looked at the excited girl with a little smile. She was eager to fly with you too, but let Jace go first. You nodded to her, knowing that your dragon didn't mind flying several times in a row.

"You sure?" She eagerly nodded at your question. You glanced at her sister, standing beside her, her expression more serious though. "And you, Rhaena?"

"No." She snapped back, almost aggressively. You were a bit taken aback, and even if you didn't want to press her into saying anything else, you still looked at her, contemplating your next words. She glanced at you, noticing your stare and seemingly understanding that she was rude. Under your attentive, but soft eyes she shifted on her spot unsurely and pursed her lips in a thin line. "You cursed us." Rhaena finally said quietly.

"Sorry, what? I cursed you?" You chuckled, not expecting this answer at all. You crouched on the ground to be even with her height and look in her eyes. "What makes you say that, ñuhys bykus embōñys dārilaros(my little sea princess)?" You asked her. She wasn't confident anymore, glancing at her sister, who remained silent, as you talked. You patiently waited.

"Father said you cursed us. Your dragon has three heads which you stole from other dragons. That's why I don't have a dragon." She answered finally, as your heart tingled with pain once again. Strange... And you thought this pain was constant and couldn’t be that prominent anymore. You scoffed in disbelief. Daemon said you cursed their family? His silver tongue and sarcastic side definitely grew over the years. He was more like your father than you thought. You sighed, lowering your head, gathering thoughts of what to say to her.

"Maybe I did. But only because I want to strengthen you. They hatched in my cradle. I never tried to tame anyone and work for success." You carefully said, looking at wary Rhaena again. "I never tried hard to find a dragon and bond with him, make him respect me and listen to me. But you are going to be stronger than me. Like your mother and father one day you are going to tame the strong, mighty dragon. You are going to be more powerful than me, the one who cursed you."

"You are only telling me this, so I won't be mad." She mumbled, but you could tell that she was more at ease with you now.

"Maybe yes. Maybe no. Who knows." You shrugged with a smile, standing up. You gave her your hand. "Come on. They can fit us three. Maybe one of them is the one I stole from you, and he would like you more than me." Rhaena hesitated, looking at you with her eyes, so familiar to you. You could almost see shy Daemon in his childhood… She took your hand nonetheless, still wary, but more trusting you now, as Baela took your other hand with a smile, herself, brave like Daemon. For some reason you felt in peace with yourself at this moment.

***

"You got your mother worried, you know?" You sighed, noticing the boy with an eyepatch sitting under the tree in the Godswood with barely any light around, night dark sky looming over the city already. Aemond looked up at you and turned away from you instantly. You sighed, walking closer to him. While you didn't trust his grandsire and mother fully, the children weren't at fault. They were your nephews and niece, no matter the other blood. "What are you doing here? It is dark already."

"And? I am not a little kid, I can defend myself." He snapped at you, glaring angrily with his one eye at something in the dark. You sat near him, not really caring for his discomfort in the matter. From what you had seen, he was just not used to physical affection, but you didn't reach out for him, you just... Were there.

"I know that. But running away from the castle just because your nephews are there, isn't very brave." You answered almost in a thoughtful voice. He grumbled something in return that you couldn't quite understand. You glanced at him with soft smile. "You can't hide forever."

"They weren't punished! That dick... Sorry." He mumbled, losing his fight after one swear word, apparently being scolded for it beforehand. You only shrugged at this.

"Lucerys did a bad thing. I guess you can say he was kind of a dick that day." Aemond scoffed at this, his shoulders relaxing a bit. "But he's just a child. Like you are. And he tried to protect his family."

"I was maimed!" Aemond exclaimed, tones of Alicent's intonation and voice coming through his childish one. "He cut out my eye, and they were entitled enough to not carry any punishment!"

"Let me tell you something, and I want you to listen to me and hear me out, alright?" You asked him, as Aemond nodded gloomily and almost hesitantly, still being very angry. "If you held a stone over my brother's head, threatening to hit him in the head with it, threatening to kill him, calling him names and telling him that he was going to die screaming, I wouldn't cut your eye out. I would cut your throat."

"That..."

"Would you not protect... Helaena? Or your mother?” You continued with your point. “If someone would have tried to hit them with a stone, insulting and threatening them. If you had a weapon, what would you have done?" You looked at him, as the boy lowered his head, seemingly contemplating your words. He wasn't presented with the other point of view, it seemed.

"I... I would kill those who dared to hurt my family." He sighed defeatedly. You smiled sympathetically

"Aemond, I am not glad that Lucerys went unpunished. He should have gotten at least some kind of retaliation for what he did. Like serving some other House for some time as a ward, or I don't know, limitation of his dragon’s lessons, this is a bad punishment enough for his age. But not carving his eye or killing him. That wouldn't return yours." You pretended you didn't notice Aemond moving closer to you. You just let him be comfortable and at peace with himself.

"But that would bring me satisfaction. That would be fair." He still mumbled. You sighed and smiled slightly, looking at your nephew.

"You would become a great warrior one day, Aemond. Yes, even with one eye, believe me. You have one of the greatest dragons, you have dragon blood and very fiery heart. But one thing that a warrior should know – is when and where to stop. Not becoming unhinged monster to scare little children. But to be a good fighter, a hero they will write songs about."

"Like your father? Prince Baelon The Brave?" You shivered and stopped at this question. Looking at a child beside you, you didn't see him. You almost fell into your memory, where violet eyes were enraged. Brave was the prince who exiled his own son, not accepting anything about him. Brave was the prince who threatened to kill innocent people who just helped his son in his attempts to reach out to his own family. Brave was the prince who called his own son a leech and a taint on their reputation.

"Yes. Like him." You forced a smile and a calm tone. Looking away, you tried to calm yourself. Your father was long gone, but your heart and fear of him showing up behind any corner, was very much present. Irrational and illogical, almost childish. But it still lived inside your soul. "What do you say, should we go inside?" You offered.

"They are still there." He scowled at the thought of going back to his nephews.

"Why don't you try and... Befriend them again? I know you were close with Lucerys before." You noticed, as Aemond scoffed and looked to the side, seemingly angry again in mere second.

"He maimed me. I don't want to be his friend!" He said sternly, but you heard more behind child’s anger.

"Do you miss him?" He looked at you angrily, but sighed, his eye more pained than enraged.

"No!" Boy exclaimed, looking away and almost pouting. He sighed heavily, lowering his head and mumbling under his nose. "He was closer to being my friend though. Even if he teased me for being dragonless, he wasn’t like Aegon or Jace. But he cut out my eye! I hate him!" He added louder. You sighed, taking his hand into yours, choosing your words carefully.

"I miss one person too, you know... A lot. I would give anything to return to that person. And I know they are missing me as well to some extent. But they hate me. It is a strange balance." You started. "I hated them too once. I did horrible things because of them. I lied in their name. I even killed some people in their name. I framed people, I broke laws and all just because of their wish. I made everything they wanted of me." You told the boy quietly, holding his hand, but looking into the darkness of the garden thoughtfully. "My life was destroyed because of them. I was gone because of them. I lost everything because of them." You chose your words carefully, remembering everything that was happening so long ago, it felt as another life altogether.

The commotion from the Throne Room was heard well even in the hallways. You carefully stepped to the door, watching at the events inside quietly and silently. The Lord before the Iron Throne pleaded his innocence, but your father, Prince Baelon appointed to lead this trial, wasn’t going to listen. You stepped aside, when guards were dragging the lord out of the Throne Room through the door you were standing at. When they walked out of the Throne Room, you looked at them.

“What is going on here?” You asked them, feigning innocence. Guards bowed their head slightly to you.

“This Lord was accused of stealing a dragon egg. Prince Baelon sentenced the thief to thelife on the Wall.” One of the guards said. You nodded looking at the panicking and horrified lord, who looked down, seemingly not noticing you.

“That is a fair sentence. That would teach him to keep his mouth shut and not jump over his head, trying to take what is not his.” You said coldly. Lord suddenly shivered and looked up at you, as if suddenly realizing something.

“You… It was you… Let me go!” Lord screamed, trying to get out of guards hands and get to you. You just stepped to the side, letting knights drag the screaming lord away. Familiar footsteps coming from behind, you met with a slight smile.

“Was it the Lord, who saw us and tried to…” Daemon started.

“To threaten you, yes.” You nodded and glanced at your brother. “He is going to the Wall. And don’t ask what I did. Because the answer is nothing.” You walked beside him, slightly touching his shoulder. It was hard to convince servants to place a dragon egg in his rooms, but in the end it was all worth it.

"Do you hate them, uncle?" Aemond asked curiously, looking at you. You glanced at him, almost flinching, as if remembering he was still there. You smiled slightly and put a hand on his hair, caressing his white hair.

"I do to some extent. But I would die for them in an instant. I would kill and do everything I had done for them all over again." You answered him with a sad smile. "I hate them, as they hate me. But I love them at the same time. And I would get destroyed and crushed again for that person. It is... A weird balance."

"Can you... Teach me how to find this... Hate and love?" Prince asked quietly. You nodded.

"Yes, but not here. And definitely not in one day. It's getting cold and you can get sick. You wouldn't want to fall sick and miss our flight tomorrow?" You winked at him, as Aemond nodded with a smile.

"Let's go! I want to hear about that person!" He stood up, waited for you to stand as well and only after that he went to the castle with fast pace. Even being close and quiet child, he was still a kid. You looked at his back, missing the fact that a dark shadow from behind the bushes watched and heard your talk.

***

The flames of candles danced around the dark room. Skull of Balerion brought back memories to you, both of pleasant times and not much. Your life had changed, everything changed. And the family you were supposed to change with, wasn't the one you remembered anymore. Yet you still sought out comfort in this place.

You sighed, turning away from the skull as you heard steps behind you. As you assumed, that was Daemon. Over the years his footsteps became quieter, but still he was too familiar for you not to recognize him. His look was wary, he was tensed up as his hand rested on the hilt of the dagger on his belt.

"You chose a good place for a murder, almost poetic." You noted. Daemon scoffed.

"Don't tempt me." You could argue with him that temptation was more of his job in many ways, but you chose to stay silent on the matter.

"If you don't wish to kill me, I am at a loss of why are you here." You said to him, being pretty honest.

"I wanted to talk to you." He said, stepping to you. You smiled, shaking your head and refusing to admit even to yourself how much this single step made your heart shiver.

"Talk to me? It isn't your usual way. I think you better prefer not to speak with me at all or kill me. Or at least avoid me." You admitted, turning to the skull and igniting the candles, just to get yourself busy with something. "What do you want?"

"Where does the lie end and the truth starts?" He asked in response. You hummed in surprise, definitely not expecting such a question first.

"Such deep thoughts. Why so suddenly?" You heard another step, but you only raised your eyes to look at the skull of mighty beast. You wouldn't dare to fight your own death after all this time if it came to this. You wouldn't dare to fight him ever.

"We are surrounded by half-truths, lies and intrigues. You can fully trust noone and nothing. Tell me, nuha lēkia(my elder brother), how much did you lie?" You glanced across the shoulder at your brother. He was serious, his eyes were fixated on you, but there was something deeper inside him. You shrugged, looking at the fire on the end of a splinter with which you lighted the candles.

"Like many people, nuhor valonqar(my younger brother). A lot." You answered, not understanding why he was talking with you like that. He couldn't possibly know the truth, could he? You didn't tell anyone and made sure to be careful about it. And your father was too… Careful to not leave any trace of what had happened that day.

"I know that. You lied that you love me." He accused you, making you glance at him. "You lied that you will never leave me. You lied that you will protect me." His jaw tensed, and you were sure that this would be the end. Him accusing you of everything and you just accepting it. He probably just wanted to accuse you and be done with it. Suddenly, Daemon raised his head, narrowing his eyes, but not taking them away from your figure. "But I'm not here to tell you about those lies. I want to hear another one."

"You want me... To lie to you?" You laughed quietly, looking at Daemon in surprise. He was silent for a moment, before nodding, strangely serious about it.

"Let's play a game. Lie to me.” He repeated firmer, his hard eyes not changing, as he glared at you. “What did you say to my daughters?" Daemon asked. You raised your brows, not understanding what he was doing.

"What?"

"Lie to me about the things you said to Rhaena." He repeated, stepping closer. You sighed, mirroring this step to the side, keeping the same distance between you two, pretending you were just igniting the candles. Daemon was playing some game of which you knew nothing and wanted you to participate in it as well. And yet you let him have this moment.

"Let's see... I told her about how I cursed our family and how I'm going to make sure that she would stay dragonless." You spoke slowly, unsure smile creeping on your face. At the very least you could have some kind of fun.

"What did you say to Rhaenyra, when I interrupted you that morning?" He insisted, his step echoing through the high arches of the ceiling again.

"That she needs to end Alicent and her children once and for all, no matter the consequences." You simply breathed out, not even turning to him.

"What did you do when Rhaenys was promised to Corlys?" You giggled, remembering what happened such a long time ago. Honestly you were surprised that he remembered that.

"Nothing, I stayed at the Red Keep, not going anywhere." You answered, once again lying, remembering how you sneaked upon their ship, to say goodbye to your favourite cousin of all. Baelon scolded you, when you were returned back to the Red Keep, and Daemon didn't let you go for a week, afraid you would disappear from him again.

"What were you talking about with Aemond?" Another step along with the words. You scoffed, igniting another candle, looking at the flames.

"How he should hate Lucerys and wish him nothing but death." The game was weirdly funny, it almost made you forgot about everything that was brewing between you. Lies flew from your tongue before you could even process it.

"Why did you leave for Braavos?"

"Because I wanted to." You blurted out a lie before realising it. For a moment you froze, slowly turning around. There you saw Daemon barely a step away from you. His eyes became tense, dark violet, as he watched your face after you repeated a lie known to everyone in this game, where you should have lied. "I hate you."

"I didn't ask you to lie about your feelings." He retorted coldly, stepping to you, as you stepped away, your throat dry all of a sudden. "Enough lies. What happened?"

"Nothing." You shook your head and sighed. You wanted him know the truth, yet you also knew that it didn't matter anymore. Not with his family, not after all those years. It would only complicate things. "Daemon, you better go. Just continue hating me, this would be… Right."

"I said, enough lies." He crossed what little distance you had between you, backing you to the candles. Daemon grabbed you by the clothes, watching closely your face. Your heart beat like mad at the mere presence of your brother near you. "What happened?"

"Daemon..."

"What had happened that morning you left? Tell me the truth!" He demanded, his eyes boring into your soul. "I won't let you go before you say. I deserve the truth after your betrayal, after your lies and all the harm and pain you caused me..."

"He saw us!" You exclaimed, having had enough. Your feelings were overwhelming you to the point of just not caring about the consequences. "Our father saw us. He saw you on your knees, saw me in your bed, he saw everything."

"What?" His grip on you lessened, his face frozen with shock and still that angry expression. Yet you made no move to free yourself from his grip.

"He saw us. He learned the truth. And he was so mad at me for... How did he say? Right... "Corrupting you". So enraged hat he just threw me out of the Keep." You blurted out in one breath.

"You lie. If he... He would have punished me as well. Why didn't he punish me, why didn't you write anything to explain anything?" His voice was raising as well, mirroring yours.

"You still don't understand? You were his favourite. Not Viserys even if he was the eldest. Not me even if I listened to him always. You. Mother loved you the most, father adored you. He couldn't comprehend that you could lay with a man willingly. If I was some common whore or even a sister of yours, he wouldn't have batted an eye, but I am a man. And I can't want you, as it's a sin. As I am corrupting and tainting you with mere thought of it, let alone a touch. Putting a disgrace on your name. It was easier for him to believe I made you do this. Easier to hate one son and threaten to kill every person that brought my letters to the Keep. Easier to send dead ravens and tell his own son that he would be burned alive if he even dared to show his face again at his home." You couldn't stop words pouring from your mouth, you were silent for far too long and that pain had never left.

"No..." Daemon shook his head, seemingly not wanting to listen to you anymore, but at this point you had little to no care about his wish.

"And I knew he would be furious if I admit that you were the one to come to me. It would have killed him. And if not... He would have destroyed your life as well. And I lied, yes, I lied, I took it upon myself. I destroyed my life for you. I destroyed my life because of you, Daemon!" You raised your voice at him. He looked enraged and shocked, almost feral in the light of candles.

"Shut up!" He pushed you harshly back. You stumbled to the skull, the impact making you fall onto some candles and hitting your head against an old bone in your fall. You cursed quietly, feeling something sticky on your face. For several moments you layed on the floor, not moving, fighting with the headache and shock. Slowly you sat, grunting, warm wax sliding from under your hands. Your lip was split, as you could feel, and according to some stickiness on your temple, there was at least a gash on your forehead.

You looked up at him, his face not cold anymore, but full of many different emotions. Anger, sadness, fear. You groaned, trying to move. Leaning onto the skull, you carefully stood up, giving yourself a second of rest.

"Y/N, listen, I..."

"You are the Rogue Prince, future King or Prince Consort, King of the Narrow Sea, previous commander of the Gold Cloaks, husband to the heir of the throne and father of her future children." You stated in resignated tone, glancing at his frozen form. "I am the Gone Prince, who spent most of his life in Braavos. I am noone and nothing, with no lands or wealth. I am a leech, who taints the house reputation just by thinking of you. I am father's disgrace." You tried to straighten your back, but sudden nausea hit you, and you bent over, leaning onto the skull once again. "And I am here to help Viserys. Don't dwell on the past, as it can't be returned." You forced yourself to smile and look at him. "Go back to hating me. It would be easier... For both of us." You breathed out, slowly walking away from the basement, Daemon not making a move to follow you.

***

The evening was busy. It seemed that every person in the Red Keep decided to visit you. Firstly, there were Rhaenyra, who was alerted that you asked for maesters. Next was Alicent, who decided to visit you, the atmosphere becoming tense between two women for a hot minute, but they kept their temporary peace. Next was the King. Viserys got really nervous about hearing the news of your wound. He demanded to know what happened and who did this. The answer was simple.

"I fell." You lied again, as the maester cleaned your wound and gave you advices on treatment. After all those people visited you, you were exhausted and confined to your chambers. Following maesters' orders, Viserys forbade you to go out at least for two days. You tried to tell him that it was just a scratch, and you just need a good sleep, but he was too worried. Too afraid to lose another family member, as it seemed. So you relented and just read through some of King's journals he gave you to better understand the situation in the court, occasionally writing something in your notes.

You heard the door opening and closing and some quiet steps. Sighing, you turned the page, not wanting to face the person who entered your room.

"I don't need anything, Jenny, you may go for the night." You said, not wishing to see anyone right now after all of the commotion and noise. Not after the conversation down at the skull...

"I must consider adding that name to the list of my titles." That wasn't your servant. You turned to look at the man, who entered your room. Daemon. Of course. Without his weapon, without his dark attire, in white simple shirt, almost looking like he was fresh out of bath. Boy, did it bring back memories.

"What are you doing here?" You asked, obviously confused. Daemon shrugged.

"Can't I visit my brother, who clumsily fell and hit his head?" He said, making you shake your head with a quiet sigh. "Y/N, we need to talk."

"We already talked. I don't have anything else to say to you, so you are wasting your time here." You turned back to the journal again. There was silence and for a second you thought Daemon would leave you alone. You should have known better. Suddenly there were haste steps, after which the journal was ripped from your hands. You looked up at him, his determined look pointed right back at you. "Dae..." He put a hand on your mouth, shutting you up and making you freeze at the sudden physical contact.

"No! You said you don't have anything to say, so I will be the one who does the talking." He stated sternly, looking in your eyes. You slapped away his hand, but said nothing in response. Daemon sighed, still standing in front of you. "If what you have told me is truth, I didn't know it. Let me finish!" He interrupted you, as you tried to say something. "All these years I blamed you for leaving me without a word. Without a letter or explanation. I... I thought you did something for me again, that was noticed and made you guilty. I thought father found out of what you did to protect me. Then I thought you found someone else, some young pretty boy who adored you more than I did. It was easier for me to hate you." He admitted, and your heart broke a bit at his words ad his expression. You wanted to forget about what had happened and just take him into your embrace and not let go of him. But you both were too far gone for that. And revelation of the truth did provoke this conversation, but it couldn't change everything else.

"It is still easier for both of us to stay away from each other." Daemon scoffed in response to those words, leaning on the table, looking down at you.

"You can't be serious, Y/N. I know the truth now, that it wasn't your wish to leave me. And you expect the hate from me?"

"What do you expect? Us going back to where we left things? You aren't ten and six anymore, Daemon. I am not ten and nine. You are a different person, that I know nothing about. Hell, you have a family and duties." You breathed out, trying to stay calm.

"But I don't have you. And I haven't had you all those years. I have changed, yes. You have changed as well, hell, maybe even more than I have. But the fact that I need my elder brother never changed, no matter how much I hated and despised this thought." Prince looked at you stubbornly. You shook your head, looking at the notes on your table, just not to look at him.

"We can't go back to what we had, Daemon. It is impossible. I can't be your lover. And I doubt I can be your friend after all these years. You are a different person, completely unknown to me."

"Then I don't see a problem with anything. We just start anew." He reached out to you, grabbing your chin, making you look at him, his eyes burning with fire and passion. You pursed your lips, trying to calm your heart that was beating out of your chest just from a single touch of his. You had to learn to control yourself near him all over again.

"What we had was a sin. We are brothers. Even if our blood doesn't stop us as our House has queer customs, we are men. It is viewed as a sin. I won't put your reputation under a hit. The ending will be the same, Daemon. Us parting ways. It was hurtful the first time, there is no need to return to that." You tried to sound convincing enough for both him and you, but his grip on your chin only tightened, as your words sparked him with anger.

"There is no sin in this. This is us. We are both dragons, our blood belong together. There is nothing more true in this world than us. And if it is a part of us, if it is the most real part of us, it can't be sin." Daemon said stubbornly, as you put your hand on his, gripping his wrist in attempt either to bring him back to his feelings or pull it away from you.

"It is. We are brothers and we can't do that. If I was a princess or you were one, everything could be different. But we are what we are and this is wrong.” You lowered your head, leaning back into the armchair. “Father might have been right. If the gods punished me and not helped me all this time, then I am a sinner and a leech."

"Where the fuck did you take all of this, you have never been religious!" Daemon spitted out, looking at you, as his brows furrowed. You just tried to push him away, with your words, with your actions, but he never budged, on the contrary becoming more and more persistent. "Or someone is telling you this? Who is this cunt that spread this nonsense to your head?" He demanded of you.

"Noone, Daemon. This is my thoughts." You breathed out, as the prince sat on your lap suddenly. He had become heavier with years for certain, trainings and battles made him stronger, and you couldn't help but feel the stomach-curling feeling of familiarity of his body against yours.

"You were never like this. You loved me. You loved my body. You didn't think of me as of something wrong." He stubbornly said, as you pressed yourself into the chair, trying to distance yourself from him, even if it wasn't physically possible. "And I know you still feel the same, I can see this in your eyes."

"You are not wrong. I am. I made you like this." You breathed out, putting hands on his shoulders, looking at his hard face. Your repeated your father's words just to get him to see the reason and step back. "Daemon, this is wrong. Please, I beg you, go back to your wife, to your family."

"You are my family. You are my blood. I want to be here with you now, not with them." Daemon stood his ground stubbornly. He didn't want to leave you apparently, but you couldn't have him risk it all again because of you, no matter how much you longed to hold him again in your embrace.

"I can't be the reason to hold you back. You loved them this morning more than anything. You hated me this morning. One conversation can't change that. You love Rhaenyra, you bled for her, you suffered for her, you long for her, you love her, not me and I can't..."

"All this time I was suffering for you. I wanted to forget you, believe me. I tried it all… Whores, wine, blood, killing, everything!" He cupped your face with his hands, looking intensely in your eyes. "I tried. Rhaenyra... She is good, she deserves love. And I love her. But she isn't you. It is different with you, and you know it. And if I had to choose, I would choose you every time."

Your heart clenched at the thought that he tried to forget you. His eyes were honest, and even after all those years away from him, you could always tell when he was telling the truth. He was sincere in his words at this moment. But you couldn't let him do that again. You didn't want pain for you, nor for him.

"Daemon, you are talking on emotions. You miss what we had once, but... Fuck, don't make this harder than it is." You pleaded with him, every reason to leave everything as it was fading in the face of his confidence and determination. You were losing this fight and couldn’t come up with any more reasons or words to convince him. To convince yourself.

"You are the one making it harder. Lēkia, you told me yourself once, we were born from one flame and blood. We were supposed to be together. I cried only for you, not one person saw my tears, because you are the only reason for them. I didn't mourn father, grandsire, Aemma, Laena, noone. I cried for noone but you. I need you in a way no word in Westerosi or Valyrian can describe. Now more than ever." He whispered, inching closer to your face, as something inside you was slowly breaking.

"Daemon..."

"Start with me anew. There is no reason for worry, I promise. All the time you stayed away, you protected me. You lied, you..." He scoffed, remembering your words he heard in the garden. "You destroyed your life for me. Let me now rebuild it."

"Daemon..." You touched his cheek, shuddering at the long forgotten feeling of his skin under your touch.

"Let me think for the both of us this time, Y/N." He squeezed your cheeks in his palms, looking in your eyes. "Let us sing dragon's song together again. Like we never stopped."

You breathed out, looking in his eyes. You saw anger, flames of indomitable passion dancing in his eyes, violet irises determined and fiery. He wouldn't step back. Even if he still felt some hate for you, even if he loved his family he had, you were something different for him. You were his centre, around which his world was turning. As he was your centre in return.

And you gravitated to your dragon, like always, leaning into him.

The Gone Prince Taglist: @wai-who @midnightprincess18 @fan-goddess @weird-addiction @rawinia @cannibalcoyote @cherry1a @darlinqvi @caelumwingstar @louventcavaliersx @parca0charos @azrealbanerstark @britany1997

#house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #reader insert #x reader #male reader

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acewritesfics · 10 months ago

Text

Her Father's Eyes | Tommy Shelby

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: No

Fic Type: Imagine

Warnings: former friends. Mentions of drunken one night stand, tough decisions were made.

Word Count: 1,876

TOMMY SHELBY MASTERLIST | TAG LIST SIGN-UP

⚠️ THIS IS A REPOST FROM MY MAIN BLOG @/DLMLUFICS. UNFORTUNATELY, I HAVE TO DO IT THIS WAY. MORE INFO IN MY PINNED POST.

"Mabel, sweetheart, please slow down," Y/N calls after her three-year-old daughter as she runs away from her and towards the spot where they sit by the pond.

"Picnic! Mummy! Picnic!" The toddler cheers but comes to a halt as she notices someone in their spot.

Noticing the familiar faces surrounded by a brood of children, she adjusts the basket and blanket in her arms and takes Mabel's hand leading her to another area of the park. "Let's go find another place to sit."

Arriving under a tree, Y/N lets go of Mabel's and sets the picnic basket on the ground. Unfolding the blanket, she lays it out on the ground and places the blanket on it before walking over to her daughter and lifting her up to place her on the blanket.

Y/N takes out a handful of the toys she's brought with them. Mabel has a doll and a wooden horse with her that she will not leave the house without. She sits down and arranges the toys in front of Mabel. "Here you go, my love."

"Thank you, mummy."

"You're welcome," she smiles lovingly at her daughter, watching her play.

The little girl bears hardly any resemblance to her. She is convinced that Mabel looks more like her father with dark hair, button nose, pouted lips and vibrant blue eyes. Those same blue eyes were one of the reasons she was hesitant to return to Small Heath. People would know with only one look at Mabel, who she belonged too.

"Is that really you, Y/N L/N?"

Looking up from her daughter, Y/N saw Ada standing there, clutching Karl's hand, a stunned expression on her face. She didn't believe the lone girl among the Shelby siblings would see her from where she was.

"Ada, it's good to see you again," she says as she rises to her feet. She's immediately drawn in for a hug. "What are you doing in Small Heath? Last I heard, you were done with this place."

"The same goes for you. I'm back for a little visit. I thought Karl would enjoy spending time with his cousins," Ada explains. "How about you? Polly told me you moved to Norwich be closer to your sister."

"I returned a month ago to care for my mother," she says solemnly. "She became ill with a fever."

"How is she doing?" Ada inquires.

"She passed away 10 days ago," she replies, sadly.

"I'm truly sorry, Y/N. She was a wonderful lady" Ada expresses her condolences. The young woman hadn't seen Y/N's mother in a long time.

"Look, Mummy!" Mabel's enthusiastic shout cut her conversation with Ada short. She turns to the small girl who's pointing to the duck and ducklings swimming in the pond. Mabel's favourite animal, along with horses, happens to be ducks. She is completely enamoured with them. "Duckies!"

"They're duckies," she gasps feigning excitement as she kneels back on the blanket next to her.

"My goodness, who is this lovely little thing?" Ada asks, kneeling down to Mabel's level. When she takes a good look at the girl who looks so much like her father, she tries to hide her surprise.

"This is Mabel, my daughter," she introduces them. "Mabel, love, this is mummy's old friend Ada and her son Karl."

"It's lovely to meet you, Mabel," Ada smiles and holds her hand out towards Mabel. Mabel places her much smaller hand in hers and shakes it. "Karl, why don't you play with Mabel while mummy and Y/N have a little chat," Ada instructs her son as she encourages him to sit with Mabel.

Karl nods and sits beside Mabel as she shows him her doll and wooden horse and instructs him on how to play with them. She has no idea they are related, but she is already ordering him about. She is, after all, her father's daughter.

"Karl is growing into a handsome young man," Y/N watches the children. She last saw him during Freddie's funeral. If she remembered correctly, Karl was about two years old at the time. A few months later, she became pregnant with Mabel.

Glancing to Ada when she doesn't say anything, she sees that her old friend's lips are pursed, eyes slightly squinted and is thinking hard about something as she watches Mabel.

"She is beautiful Y/N," Ada finally says, having finished pondering her thoughts. "Is her father around?"

"No..." she admits looking down at her hands resting in her lap, thinking of how her daughter was conceived during a drunken night of passion. "No, he's not around."

"Does he know?" Ada continues to question her. Y/N goes to answer but Ada cuts her off before she can get a word out. "Of course he doesn't, other wise you'd be wearing his ring and using his last name. Does she have his last name?"

Y/N nods. "Her name is Mabel Evelyn Shelby."

"Will you tell him?" she asks.

"When the time is right," she sighs knowing it was inevitable now that she was back in Small Heath. The whispers could already be heard. Whether Tommy heard them or not, she didn't know.

"Are you living in your mum's house?" Ada asks, looking as though she's thinking up something.

She looks at her suspiciously. "We are."

"Well then, I'll drop by tomorrow and give you my address and telephone number that way you can call me and come visit when you're in London," Ada says as she stands to her feet. "I would love for Karl to get to know his cousin."

"So would I," Y/N agrees, also standing to her feet.

Ada draws her in for another hug. When she lets go, she turns to the children. "Karl, it's time to go, sweetheart. Say goodbye to Mabel."

Y/N smiles when Karl mumbles a goodbye to his cousin. Mabel in return gives him a quick hug.

"That she doesn't get from her father," Ada quips as Karl walks over to her.

"I don't know. Tommy could be pretty affectionate when we were kids," she giggles thinking of how different Tommy was when they were growing up.

Later that night, when Mabel had finally drifted off to sleep, Y/N kisses her daughter's head, whispering sweet dreams to her before leaving her bedroom.

She moves into the kitchen and is about to start on the dishes when there is a knock on the door. She wipes her hands on the dish cloth and makes her way to the front door.

Swinging the door open, she’s startled to find Tommy standing there, a cigarette hanging from his perfect lips and an unsure look in those eyes he shares with his daughter.

“Tommy,” she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper but Tommy hears it.

“I know it’s late, but can I come in,” he asks, his smooth voice sounds uncertain, which isn’t what you heard often when he speaks.

She nods, moving out of the doorway to let him in. Once he’s inside, she closes the door and turns around to face him. She’s unable to look at him as she anxiously messes with the hem of her blouse.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, his voice going from unsure, to frustrated and impatient.

“Tell you what?” She asks, playing ignorant.

He frowns, “Do you think I’m daft?”

“Not at all,” she answers. Tommy had always been a smart one, even when he was being stupid.

“Then why didn’t you fucking tell me I have a daughter?”

“Because I knew as soon as you found out you’d have us married and playing house while you were still in love with that traitor.”

“I didn’t love her, she was a distraction from you,” he admits.

“That’s lovely, ain’t it?” She says sarcastically. “The boy I grew up loving, fucked a traitorous spy so he could distract himself from me.”

“Didn’t work though, did it?” He scoffs.

“Did you come here to argue about our past or ask about Mabel?” She questions him, her own patience wearing thin.

“Her names Mabel?” He asks. “After your grandmother.”

She nods remembering the woman she named her daughter after. Her grandma Mabel was the sweetest woman anyone would ever meet. She was always baking something sweet to hand out to the neighbourhood kids, crocheting blankets for expecting mothers and visiting the hospital to read to the sick children. Everybody loved her and she loved everyone.

“What’s the real reason you didn’t tell me about her?” he asks, less heated then a minute ago.

“I wanted to keep her safe,” she tells him, truthfully.

“I can keep her safe.”

“Can you though?” She questions him. “Don’t get me wrong, Tom, I am proud of how far you’ve taken the Shelby name. But as you’ve climbed the ladder, you’ve made enemies. Some of those enemies won’t hesitate to use her, a sweet and innocent little girl, against you and I couldn’t have that.”

“I want to see her,” he quietly demands.

“She’s asleep in bed,” she tells him. “Just don’t wake her.” She leads him to Mabel’s bedroom.

The door creaks as she pushes it open and walks into the room ahead of him. She watches him as he stares down at the little girl curled up in her bed, clutching her doll to her chest as soft snores emanate from her.

“She looks like you,” Tommy says softly as he looks down at the little girl with astonishment.

Y/N let’s out a chuckle, “I think she looks like you. Wait until she opens those pretty blue eyes of hers. She’s all you, Tommy.”

Watching his little girl sleep, brings a calmness to him and an understanding of why she did it. He would go to any lengths to protect her now knowing that she’s his, just like Y/N had gone to hers. “I understand why you didn’t tell me.”

“I should have told you,” she starts her apology. “I’m sorry I never told you. Just know it wasn’t an easy decision and it broke my heart to do it but I had to keep her safe. You have every right to be angry with me and to hate me.”

“Don’t leave again,” he says barely above a whisper, his eyes never moving from his daughter. “Don’t take her away again. Let me be here for her and you. Let me take care of the both of you.”

“We’re not going anywhere, Tom,” she tells him moving to stand closer to him as she also admires there little girl. “I know you can protect her and keep her safe.”

“And you,” he adds. “I can keep you safe and protected too.”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” she tells him.

“But I do,” he says before adding, “I always have. Even more so now that we’re going to be a family.”

“So, now you want to marry me?” She quips and leads him back out of the room so they don’t wake Mabel.

“I should have married you years ago,” he admits as they move into the kitchen, where Y/N makes them a cup of tea.

All through the night, the two parents talk about Mabel, Y/N filling him on everything he’s missed and Tommy learning everything he can about his daughter.

TAGGED: @chapter-in-my-old-diary - @hanawrites404 - @goblinjnr - @halsteadbrasil - @forgottenpeakywriter - @star-ggirl - @iceman-kazansky - @alexxavicry - @galactict3a - @crispynutella - @il0vebeingdelulu - @nicole-19s-world - @yeppaweshallsee

Bold means your @ didn't come up when I tried to tag you. Sometimes your blog will be linked after posted but I don't think you get the notification. You'll have to let me know and I'll change it from bold to normal. Tags have been weird lately. Here's a post I found that could help: WHY OTHERS CAN'T TAG YOUR BLOG

#acewritesfics repost #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders

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blueberrypancakesworld · 3 months ago

Text

The fathers of Rome

Marcus/Geta/Caracalla x wife!reader

warning : fluff, comfort, crying, kissing a bit emotional, birth, family issues, written before the movie came out characters may be different

Summary : Two Emperors and the general of the army all had important duties and responsibilities but by the grace of the gods and with devotion of love the three most influential men find themselves with the news of a pregnant wife. Each of them has a slightly different approach to taking care of his pregnant wife and the birth, because a birth could always go wrong and the gods were rarely merciful.

info : I wanted to write something sweet for the three of them and I know that they could be good fathers (if you romanticize a little bit) now have fun reading and have a nice day.

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marcus Acacius

It was thought that the battlefield was his home and the sword was his wife but few knew that in a vast field of olive trees and wheat fields stood a large villa in which a woman lived with a small household and prayed between her altars to the gods that her beloved husband would return home safely.

A story of a leader of the army of Rome and his wife a former oracle who met him, foretold him his future yet his eyes, his voice and his being would not depart from her own prophecies.

An initial love of safety in times of peace, she appreciated his protective nature in a world that belonged almost entirely to Rome, danger still lurked everywhere. He, in turn, was captured by her grace and care, this devotion to those in need or to himself when she waited on him to heal his wounds and the two felt safe and complete together.

A husband who rushed home on horseback so fast he rode to her from the support posts when the emperors called him back the sleep was won she saw the shadow on the horizon from the balcony and even mounted her horse to meet him, ,,My heart" he embraced her each time still seeing the dirt and emaciation on him after being away for months sometimes years.

His hands closed around her, an embrace, a heartfelt kiss, tears in her eyes when she finally saw him again before they rode back to the villa together, she helped him bathe and wash her before he pulled her into the water himself, not wanting to leave her side and unable to do so for too long, he had missed her, not only her lovely eyes, her voice that he loved to listen to, her hair that he ran through and her hands that he clasped every time he wanted to be close to her but couldn't in public.

But with such intimacy comes love and with love comes desire, desire for each other, desire for each other's bodies and this desire was pursued many nights and on some bright days they were also close until he had to leave again, for the next raid not knowing that only two months after he was gone he received a letter with scrawled writing full of excitement.

A letter that moved him to tears when he read it for the first time, ,,I'm going…to be a father" he mumbled to himself in his tent above and above he realized that love for each other would grow into a life, a little baby that would look like both of them and a big smile stayed on his lips as he hurriedly wrote back to her expressing his joy and his heart, how excited he was himself, how proud he was of her and how much he loved her and praying to the gods that the battle would be won quickly.

The letters changed from weekly to daily as her pregnancy progressed and he received drawings of what she looked like, along with dried flowers she was growing that were made into tea and tinctures to help her body.

The couple were happy with words, kisses seemed to spread across the infinity and she was sent a piece of clothing by Marcus and remembered that he would return to her and their child.

Everything went well until he received the letter that she would go into labor in the next few days, the war took longer than expected, but it was the first and only time he gave his sergeant the lead and started the journey back on his own responsibility, which would take several days, but he had to go to her the fear and worry that something could go wrong that he would lose her or that the child was not healthy.

Fear and worry clutched at his heart as he drove his horse faster and faster as fast as he could back home where he burst through the front door and heard the screams of pain that scared him to death calling her name, he hurried up the stairs to the shared bedroom where he found her crouching by the bed, apparently lying down would lead to complications.

,,Love I'm-I'm here everything will be fine" he murmured hastily pressing kisses on her hand which she immediately grasped painfully and screamed again as she tried to get their child out of her, he could still see the love for him in her tear-stained eyes on her sweat-smeared body they were both covered in blood from the death of the battlefield and the birth of new life as she continued to push and the midwife helped her too.

She screamed out his name her pain and Marcus became more and more afraid of losing her with every pain she had as she continued to hold her giving her courage and hope when his own hands trembled as he heard the ,,I can see the head my lady keep pushing" from the midwife who did everything she could to make the birth as easy as possible.

,,You can do it my heart I'm here push again" he whispered to her as she looked at him in pain he saw the fear and yet the deniability that he was with her before she let out one last scream and he heard a bright scream next to blood splattering on the floor, a bright scream that echoed and seemed never to stop.

,,Congratulations, a healthy baby boy!" the older woman announced, dabbing the newborn baby lightly before wrapping him in linen so he could be held better, while Marcus helped his wife back onto the bed, covering her lightly and giving her a long kiss, ,,I am so very proud my darling," he whispered placing a kiss on her head, before taking his son in his arms, those light, dark hairs on the delicate head belonging to him but the pretty eyes were hers.

His eyes filled with tears of pride and reassurance as he stroked his son and gave her the little bundle she clutched, ,,A piece of love from both of us," she uttered, crying with happiness as she looked into her son's curious face and he chuckled at her as the two parents spent the next few hours together on the bed with pure happiness as the little baby went from laughing with gurgling laughter, to crying and finally falling asleep exhausted in the equally exhausted arms of his parents.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emperor Geta

The younger but stronger emperor of Rome, the warrior and leader who did not subordinate himself and enjoyed the Coloseum. A young man whose golden lure was not the only thing that seemed to be gold, he bought and made whatever he wanted, be it new armor, a sword, an army or even slaves that he could kill or do anything else with.

But in his life, his only blood besides his older brother Caracalla, there was only one marriage predestined by his father that he should marry her.

Pretty, coming from wealth and power but not a woman he had chosen, it was like fate, his father had decided like a god on the life of his son but it had been like that for some time now and as much as the couple was celebrated in public, the false smiles and hand-holding of the inner circle was seen through, they were both torn.

As much as they tried to understand each other and she appreciated his gift of attention to Rome, as much as he thought she was pretty and appreciated her patience as a true virtue, they never seemed to be in the same mood. There never seemed to have been a thread of fate.

,,Can love ever arise from a loveless duty?" she had once asked him when he wanted to retire in the evenings, avoiding her to occupy himself with his important things that his older brother wasn't interested in and always finding an excuse to avoid her.

She saw the guilt disappear from his eyes in the blink of an eye, saw him straighten the rings on his fingers before he replied with a ,,Love comes from the heart… a duty from the words of others" before he left her room and avoided her for another night, a night that followed one after the other until one day they attended his brother's wedding, Caracalla also married a highborn woman and gave the Roman Empire its first heir, as it should be - it was all just a matter of time.

A fact that Geta also knew, even if with a smile his bright eyes wished nothing but death for his sister-in-law, a plague that she and his brother would have to endure,

,,I want to see you in my chamber after the feast and that is not a question" he murmured to his wife who looked at him with an uneasy look, she had seen the looks, knew what was going on in her husband and yet in a horrible fate she felt the duty in her heart she had to bear him an heir.

The festivities dragged on for a long time, but with wine that overwhelmed her senses she distracted herself from what was going to happen, what he was going to do just because his place in the order of precedence would be changed, she followed his words, made a simple excuse and retired to her husband's room.

She had also heard the wine on his lips as that night began with a kiss, senses dazed by wine and yet there was still a kind of tenderness in his touch despite his hatred, she still held him close to her heart, something she clung to as hope.

A hope and love a lust she would not have expected from him overcame the nights of nights she saw for the first time his jealousy coupled with love,.

,,I know you are trying my love" he told her again and again his hand placed on her tree day after day she seemed to realize if she was pregnant until the day one of the midwives and his healer confirmed she was pregnant and a few tests brought the uncertainty to an end.

She still couldn't believe it was true, she felt his arms around her body and words of praise but double-edged words coming at her as Geta looked at her with a look that told her he had never felt more love for her than now, ,,My Empress pregnant with my heir" he murmured and immediately let the news spread everywhere rubbing it straight into the face of his brother and especially his sister-in-law who was not yet pregnant.

The time after that was filled with happiness and yet paranoia, he was only more attached to her, paying attention to everything and having the room for the child decorated with her taste, choosing the furniture and the colors, ,,The room of the future emperor," he announced to her as she leaned on him and saw the room with pictures of heroic deeds and old legends showing victories.

,,A truly impressive room," she admitted and felt her hands relax on her now round belly as time passed, the moons and suns came quickly and her pregnancy increased, the closer she got to the birth the more excited Geta seemed to become, insisting on being present the whole time…an insistence she kept, only a few moons later her contractions came and the palace was filled with screams and weeping.

Geta shouted at the midwives and healers to kill them all or he would kill them personally while he supported his wife with words and did not flinch when her bloodied hand reached for him, ,,You are doing very well I am with you dear, with our son you will make it" he told her again and again kissing her forehead and giving her hopeful kisses until he shouted more death threats until the news came that it was almost done.

The last screams were full of pain and she clung to him even more, the pain increasing with the thought that had plagued her for months and her heart stopped when she heard the voice of the midwife saying ,,My emperor it's a…girl" and the room slowly fell silent, only the shrill cry of the baby could be heard, a baby without the right sex, a girl no heir.

Her heavy breathing and the tears rolling down her cheeks as he pulled away from her with a jerk, she was supported by her midwives who helped her onto the bed and took care of her as best they could while she watched Geta take her daughter in his arms and turn his back on her, not seeing how he looked with this "disappointing" birth.

,,Everyone out now!" he shouted making the little baby cry again and yet everyone complied, ,,Geta I'm-I'm sorry" she started trying to get to him when she heard a sniffle and paused, at first she thought it was the baby but it giggled and a clearing of the throat was heard before he turned to her.

Her worry vanished when she saw his expression it was pride, it was appreciation it was happiness, ,,The future of the empire an empress from the love of her parents…she will become a goddess" he murmured and came to his wife in bed put the baby in her arms and gave the little girl a kiss on the head while he held his wife's hand and gently stroked it.

He was not disappointed he had gotten something so much better, he had gotten love and a wife who was everything to him a family of his own the only imperial family of ancient Rome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emperor Caracalla

The elder son, the first emperor to rule with his younger but much more suitable brother, a pair of brothers who ruled together and brought Rome to the top of the world with its army and its strength, but above all a young man with a woman at his side.

A woman, the Empress of Rome, beautiful, handsome and caring, popular with the people and not underestimated in politics because of her own country of origin and family…but a young woman without children.

A woman without children from an age when she would not be empress she would take other jobs nor have a choice but an empress was not a politician, a warrior or even a farmer an empress was and should always be a mother first so it has always been but not with her.

The wedding was moons ago and even if it was a little difficult at first their hearts were close she loved her playful husband who was always loving to her and had a penchant for entertainment of any kind.

As long as Carcalla wasn't bored, he knew that his brother was concerned with everything else, including politics, for which he had little taste when it wasn't a matter of attack or execution, she could only entertain him by acting, playing or playing in the arena, and as much as they both enjoyed it, she became more unhappy.

,,Your smile is fading, don't you like it? I can hire a new actor or buy new slaves right away," the blonde immediately offered and waved the troupe out so he could talk to his wife who had been laughing all evening, her hand detached from her belly and handed him the parchment he had skimmed over in the morning.

A parchment with the emperor's seal, a message from his brother that Geta had taken a wife of his own on a state visit, ,,The betrothal and wedding, what's with that, starlet?" he asked, tossing the paper carelessly aside before rising and going to the table of fruit and helping himself to the grapes.

He didn't understand the seriousness, the worry or even what it meant for the future, not that they hadn't slept together often, the wedding night had been consummated and they had often shared the bed but it had never led to anything, she rose from her chair and went to him, taking his hand and seeking his gaze.

,,Cara. ..you're still the older one, a duty is on me and I don't know if I can ever give you…an heir" she said the lump in her throat almost cutting off her voice hoping he would understand.

She saw the humor fade from his face and he considered before he gave an almost stunned expression and grabbed both her hands hastily, squeezing them and locking them in a hasty kiss over and over until she broke away to catch her breath, ,,Please I-it may well be me…all this he may be the politician but I am the elder, the first and you do your duty every day you are with me.

,,I leave no room for doubt, do you understand?" he demanded and she found his hopefulness, confidence and euphoria truly inspiring that a small smile crept onto her lips before he took her in his arms the imperial couple found themselves together again that night, taking help from potions, tinctures and many other forbidden practices that they hardly left the bedchamber together for the next few days.

It was clear to everyone what was happening behind the closed doors but after trying and trying this hope was to pay off with her first discomfort and the first change, ,,Congratulations my Emperor you are finally pregnant" the healer announced as he listened to the results of the test and her report, her tears wetting the tunic of her husband who hugged her and twirled around and was all the more pleased.

The news also pleased the people and even when she saw the looks on Geta's face and his wife she knew she had done her duty she would give Rome an heir, she had not disappointed Caracalla, ,,You can never let me down everything will go well the gods are with us" he told her reading she put up stowage in the child's room and her own for the next moons so that she was protected and the child inside her.

The protection seemed to help Geta until a point, and everything seemed to go well until the day of the birth, when blood and tears covered the floor, ,,What's wrong with my wife?" Caracalla who was holding her hand on the bed but the dagger at his side seemed to slaughter anyone who did anything wrong.

He kissed her hands and fingers, tried to cool her forehead with cool cloths and tell her again that she was doing well, ,,It seems that the Empress is pregnant with twins," said one of the midwives who had already brought out the size of the belly and the prolonged birth.

It was news she needed to cry out and Caracalla was filled with joy which he only showed when she continued to scream and push with the help of Caracalla who got into a kneeling position and the moments of pain merged until the first child was pushed out, ,,A boy!" the midwife shouted and took care of the little creature while the younger one continued to hold on to her husband.

The blonde gave her a proud kiss on the head, ,,Do you hear that? Our son love you can do it I am here" he murmured over and over until another cry from her side and a second bright cry told them that it was done that night a boy and his sister were born, Caracalla proudly and happily held the little babies and immediately spoke to them while praising them over and over.

The little family was not only complete but was now a little conversation of their own for each other, they had brought themselves together through love and received two sweet little gifts because they believed that their love was stronger than anything else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@morallyinept

@parvanovel -> I konw pregnancy is one thing but it's fluff so have fun :)

@sweetpascal

#gladiator ii #gladiator 2 #marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #emperor geta #emperor geta x reader #emperor caracalla #emperor caracalla x reader #reader is female #male x female

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creamtese · 4 months ago

Text

Demons and Stigmas

I made a reddit post about this, and thought I should post it on tumblr too for easier reading!

I wanted to make a post about all the stigmas and demons that we know so far. The names are all anagrams of Ars Goetia demons, and some of them have similar powers to the demon or have potential motives to summon said demon. With that, we can possibly predict what some of the stigmas do that we only have a name for, as well as what might have been their motivation for summoning their demon.

I've taken some information from the Ars Goetia wikipedia page, and bolded some things that I thought are noteworthy.

Frostheim

Kamurai Jin, Bianerus.

Bianerus is an anagram of Naberius

Jin can command people to do as he says with his stigma

The demon Naberius (also Naberus, Nebiros and Cerberus, Cerbere) was first mentioned by Johann Weyer in 1583. He is supposedly the most valiant Marquis of Hell, and has nineteen legions of demons under his command. He makes men cunning in all arts, but especially in rhetoric, speaking with a hoarse voice. He also restores lost dignities and honors, although to Johann Weyer he procures the loss of them. Naberius appears as a three-headed dog or a raven. He has a raucous voice but presents himself as eloquent and amiable. He teaches the art of gracious living. He is depicted as a crow or a black crane. Concerning his name, it is unclear if there is an association with the Greek Cerberus. It is said that in 1583, Johann Weyer considers both of them to be the same demon.

Ishibashi Tohma, Argeas.

Argeas is an anagram of Agares

Tohma's stigma lets him send vibrations long distance.

Agares (or Agreas), ruling the eastern zone of Hell, and being served by 31 legions of demons. He can make runaways come back and those who stand still run, finding pleasure in teaching immoral expressions. He also has the power to destroy dignities, both temporal and supernatural. He is depicted as a pale old man riding a crocodile.

Lucas Errant, Iggnaim.

Iggnaim is an anagram of Gamigin

Lucas has a barrier

Gamigin (also Gamygin, Gamigm or Samigina) is a Great Marquis of Hell who rules over thirty legions of demons. He teaches all liberal sciences and gives an account of the souls of those who died in sin and who drowned in the sea, speaking with a rough voice. He also answers what is asked about, and stays with the conjurer until they are satisfied. Gamigin is depicted as a little horse or a donkey, which changes form into a man under the conjurer's request.

Fuji Kaito, ???

No stigma name currently, but we have an idea of what his powers may be from something Hyde has said.

Vagastrom

Mido Alan, Yagsal Olbalsa

Yagsal Olbalsa is an anagram of Glasya-Labolas

It's never been explicitly said, but it seems to be some sort of super strength

Glasya-Labolas (also Caacrinolaas, Caassimolar, Classyalabolas, Glassia-labolis, Glasya Labolas, Gaylos-Lobos) is a mighty President of Hell who commands thirty-six legions of demons. He is the author and captain of manslaughter and bloodshed, tells all things past and to come, gains the minds and love of friends and foes causing love among them if desired, incites homicides and can make a man invisible. He is depicted as a dog with the wings of a griffin.

Kurosagi Leo, Haxs

Haxs is an anagram of Shax

Leo's stigma allows him to have enhanced hearing

Shax (also spelled Chax, Shan, Shass, Shaz, and Scox) is a Great Marquis of Hell, and has power over 30 legions of demons on evil horses. He takes away the sight, hearing and understanding of any person under the conjurer's request, and steals money out of kings' houses, carrying it back to the people. He also steals horses and everything the conjurer asks. Shax can also discover hidden things if they are not kept by evil spirits, and sometimes gives good familiars, but sometimes those familiars deceive the conjurer. He should not be bothered too often. Shax is thought to be faithful and obedient, but is a great liar and will deceive the conjurer unless obliged to enter a magic triangle drawn on the floor. He will then speak marvellously and tell the truth. He knows when lies are told and uses these to teach lessons. He is depicted as a stork that speaks with a hoarse but subtle voice; his voice changes into a beautiful one once he enters the magic triangle.

Haizono Shohei, Spurno

Spurno is an anagram of Purson

We don't have an explicit answer for what it does yet, but he was able to trip? throw back? the anomaly in episode 2

Purson (also Curson, Pursan) is a Great King of Hell, being served and obeyed by twenty-two legions of demons. He knows of hidden things, can find treasures, and tells past, present and future. Taking a human or aerial body he answers truly of all secret and divine things of Earth and the creation of the world. He also brings good familiars. Purson is depicted as a man with the face of a lion, carrying a ferocious viper in his hand, and riding a bear. Before him, there can be heard many trumpets sounding.

Jabberwock

Sagara Haru, Bahnti

Bahnti = Bathin

Haru's stigma reduces the affect of gravity on his body

Bathin (or Bathym, Mathim, Marthim) is a Duke (Great Duke according to Pseudomonarchia Daemonum) of Hell, who has under his command thirty legions of demons. He knows the virtues of precious stones and herbs, and can bring men suddenly from one country to another. He helps one attain astral projection, and takes you wherever you want to go. He is depicted as a strong man with the tail of a serpent, riding a pale horse.

Otonashi Towa, ???

Another one we aren't really sure of

Shiranami Ren, Raothtas

Raothtas = Astaroth

We don't have an explicit answer as to what his stigma does, but he was able to remove ink stains from the floor

Astaroth (also Ashtaroth, Astarot and Asteroth) is referred to in The Lesser Key of Solomon as a very powerful demon who commands 40 legions of demons. In art, in the Dictionnaire Infernal, Astaroth is depicted as a nude man with feathered wings, wearing a crown, holding a serpent in one hand, and riding a beast with dragon-like wings and a serpent-like tail. According to Sebastien Michaelis he is a demon of the First Hierarchy, who seduces by means of laziness, vanity, and rationalized philosophies. His adversary is St. Bartholomew, who can protect against him for he has resisted Astaroth's temptations. To others, he teaches mathematical sciences and handicrafts, can make men invisible and lead them to hidden treasures, and answers every question formulated to him. He was also said to give to mortal beings the power over serpents. His name is possibly taken from the goddess Asherah or Astarte.

Sinostra

Hoshibami Taiga, Malab

Malab = Balam

All we know is that he has good luck

Balam (also Balaam, Balan) is a great and powerful king of Hell who commands over forty legions of demons. He gives perfect answers on things past, present, and to come, and can also make men invisible and witty. Balam is depicted as being three-headed. One head is the head of a bull, the second of a man, and the third of a ram. He has flaming eyes and the tail of a serpent. He carries a hawk on his fist and rides a strong bear. At other times, he is represented as a naked man riding a bear.

Romeo Lucci, Tiris

Tiris = Sitri

He can turn things into bombs

Sitri (also spelled Bitru, Sytry) is a Great Prince of Hell, and reigns over sixty legions of demons. He causes men to love women and vice versa, and can make people bare themselves naked if desired. He is depicted with the face of a leopard and the wings of a griffin, but under the conjurer's request he changes into a very beautiful man.

Shinjo Ritsu, Acimo

Acimo = Camio

Ritsu's stigma lets him harden his body, to the point bullets cannot damage him

Camio (also Caim, Caym) appears in Ars Goetia, the first part of The Lesser Key of Solomon as a Great President of Hell, ruling over thirty legions of demons. Much detail is offered: he is a good disputer, gives men the understanding of the voices of birds, bullocks, dogs, and other creatures, and of the noise of the waters too, and gives true answers concerning things to come. He is depicted in 19th and 20th century occultist illustrations as appearing in the form of the black bird called a thrush, but soon he changes his shape into a man that has a sharp sword in his hand. When answering questions he seems to stand on burning ashes or coals.

Hotarubi

Kagami Subaru, Talnandio

Talnandio = Dantalion

Psychometry

Dantalion (or Dantalian) is a powerful Great Duke of Hell, with thirty-six legions of demons under his command; he is the 71st of 72 spirits of Solomon. He teaches all arts and sciences, and also declares the secret counsel of anyone, given that he knows the thoughts of all people and can change them at his will. He can also cause love and show the similitude of any person, show the same by means of a vision, and let them be in any part of the world they will. He is depicted as a man with many appearances, which means the faces of all men and women.

Kusanagi Haku, ???

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Kotodama Zenji, ???

ahhhh eto...bwehhhhh

Obscuary

Edward Hart, ???

thanks old man!

Mizuki Rui, ???

I don't recall him saying his stigma, but he's able to relieve pain and exhaustion temporarily.

Lyca Colt, Ramsochisa

Ramsochisa = Marchosias

He can follow the scent of anything, so long as he's smelled it before

Marchosias (also Marchocias) is a powerful Great Marquis of Hell, commanding thirty legions of demons. He is a strong and excellent fighter and very reliable to the conjurer, giving true answers to all questions. Marchosias hoped after 1,200 years to return to heaven with the non-fallen angels, but he is deceived in that hope. He is depicted as a wolf with a man's form as well as a griffin's wings and a serpent's tail, that under request changes shape into a man.

Mortkranken

Isami Yuri, Agnihaet

Agnihaet = Haagenti

10000 iq moment

Haagenti (also Haage, Hage) is a Great President of Hell, ruling thirty-three legions of demons. He makes men wise by instructing them in every subject, transmutes all metals into gold, and changes wine into water and water into wine. Haagenti is depicted as a big bull with the wings of a griffin, changing into a man under request of the conjurer.

Kirisaki Jiro, ???

wahoo

Let me know if I missed anything or got anything wrong! Hope this helps with your theorycrafting and oc making 💖

#tokyo debunker #frostheim #vagastrom #jabberwock #hotarubi #obscuary #mortkranken #tokyo debunker spoilers

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edges-of-night · 3 months ago

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Hii! <3

I wanted to request imagines for reader taking care of the lotr characters (preferably all, but if that’s too much then at least the women and maybe Aragorn and Faramir too) when they’re sick/injured for whatever reason

(I love your imagines so much, the way you characterize them all is so perfectly amazing💜)

Thank you for your kind words! I did all of my usual characters because I love hurt/comfort and sick!fic scenarios that much haha! I hope you will enjoy your post ♡

Have a great weekend everybody!

CW: injuries and illnesses, mention of blood

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

While Aragorn’s heroic sacrifice didn’t cost him his life, it took a heavy toll on him. Lucky for him, you’ve spoken often enough about medicinal herbs and healing practices – you are able to take great care of him, bedded on his white linens. Even when he is still too weak to speak, Aragorn will hold your gentle hand.

･ﾟ✧ Arwen.

You return so often to Arwen’s bedside that you wonder if it would be easier to just stay – but you know that privacy and rest are just as important as her wish to hold your hand. Whenever you’re with her, you tend to her wounds or read her passages from her favourite book to make her smile, which Arwen appreciates immensely. As she rests, she plans on properly kissing you as soon as she’s healthy.

･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Boromir hates that a common cold has him chained to the bed for over a week now. But he’d lie if he said he didn’t enjoy you taking care of him – even though you do tease him and his constantly red nose from time to time. It’s all in good fun though, and he cannot wait to hold and kiss you again!

･ﾟ✧ Elrond.

When Lord Elrond returned to Rivendell injured, your heart skipped a beat – he is the most skilled Elvish healer around – who else could treat the gaping, magical wound in his side? The honour is bestowed on you, and you master it despite your nervous mind. Nothing is greater encouragement than finally seeing Elrond’s summer eyes greet you again ♡

･ﾟ✧ Éomer.

The Rohirrim have all kinds of names for the strange fever that has befallen their dear Éomer – but no methods of healing. They consider it an impossible challenge for you to tame his feverish, sweaty body and nonsense mumblings. But, somehow, the horse lord calms whenever you reach his bedside, sighing when you change the wet cloths on his forehead and rest your hand on his chest.

･ﾟ✧ Éowyn.

Initially, Éowyn thinks nothing of the cut she got during sword lessons. But days of ignoring the wound on her hand could put her in grave danger, you know that – and thus offer to take a look and do what you can. At first, Éowyn protests, but she falls silent as soon as you turn her hand in yours, unaware of how soft her expression grows… She admires your medical knowledge, too! “Is there at all something you cannot do, you marvellous creature?”

･ﾟ✧ Faramir.

It takes days for Faramir to wake up. Many others believe him doomed and have given up on sitting by his side, trying new herbs and waters, only to see his crystal blue eyes open once more. But you have the matter-of-factly patience of a boat pushing its way through a deadly ocean. And indeed, on a moonlit night, Faramir’s gentle gaze awaits when you return to his side, whispering, “Thank you for believing in me, my love.”

･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Sometimes you wonder if you are the only person to have consideration for both the physical and the mental wounds Frodo has endured. You always make sure he’s fine and support him when thoughts of the big scar on his chest sends him to dark places inside his mind. You both know that those wounds take much more time to heal than the cut itself, and Frodo is more than glad to have you by his side. To soothe him, you caress the scar.

･ﾟ✧ Galadriel.

Ever since a mysterious malady has befallen Lady Galadriel, Lothlórien is in turmoil. No one would even let you near her – until she ordered her guards away, to allow you to treat her with your medical and arcane knowledge. In fact, you become the only one she wishes to see in her elegant rooms at all. Despite her current weakness, her ethereal beauty and soft smiles make it hard for you to concentrate…

･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

Out of breath, you hurry to Gandalf’s beside with that one legendary flower needed to cure him. He insists you be the one to prepare the potion, too. Day and night, you try to perfect his medicine, always worried his state might get worse. When Gandalf finally drinks your potion, the wound on his chest closes magically. But it’s nothing to Gandalf, who has trusted you entirely: “I never doubted you for a moment, my dear.”

･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

After Gimli’s accident in the mine, you were right by his side to ensure his head injury wouldn’t get much worse. His headache is hurting badly though, and your proud Dwarf is but a shadow of himself. He knows rest would be best for him, but it’s hard for him to stay away from work and banquets alike. Still, he appreciates that you pamper him with his favourite baked goods and healing kisses on his head ♡

･ﾟ✧ Haldir.

Haldir is not an easy patient, but that doesn’t stop you from treating his catastrophic shoulder, which he has ignored for days on his way through the woods of Lórien. Spread onto linen sheets beneath you, he grunts and cringes – as much as his half-dead stone face can, that is – under both your touch and your harsh words. But deep down, he knows you were simply worried – and honestly, he doesn’t quite know how to deal with that!

･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

It seemed inevitable that Legolas would someday break a leg because of his acrobatic archery skills, and yet you are surprised. Elves heal quickly, but Legolas suffers greatly under his involuntary immobility. You help him by recounting his favourite quest stories and eventually by supporting his first tentative steps outside, which he thanks you for with the stormiest embraces ♡

･ﾟ✧ Merry.

Merry thinks he can walk of anything – even an injured knee. He doesn’t want you to think of him as weak or unable to take care of himself. But even Merry can only play down a limp for so long. Truth be told, he is actually relieved that he no longer has to hide the pain, and that you spreading balm on his knee is no ordeal but in fact a very sweet gesture.

･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Pippin has been sneezing and stumbling for days, eventually falling into bed with the biggest groan you have ever heard come out of him. He is a “suffering” patient and you know it. But while Pippin greatly enjoys you pampering him with food, tea and blankets, he secretly cannot wait to take care of you in return – no matter if you’re sick or not! “It’s you’re not actually sick, or else I couldn’ave kissed you!”

･ﾟ✧ Sam.

Gardening involves many dangers, and although Sam has been practising it since childhood, he eventually hurts himself on his gardening knife. The cut is deep and won’t stop bleeding, but you are quick to bandage it and remind him to change the fabric once a day. But Sam has trouble keeping his thoughts straight, when all he can think about is you holding his hand in yours, all close…

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from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras · 15 days ago

Note

Do you have any specific idioms that you’ve come up with for Rohan?

Yes! I’ve got a huge mishmash of adages, idioms, little sayings and turns of phrase that I’ve made up over time for use among the Rohirrim. A bunch of them are in old posts, which I can’t locate because Tumblr’s search function is garbage, so here’s just a random helping from memory in all of the above categories:

“Crumbs will do when crumbs must do” (often shortened to just “crumbs will do”). Leftover from the famine of the Long Winter, it means “stop whining and make do with what’s available.”

“The proof is on the tongue.” This refers to the cultural tradition that the way to recognize whether a stranger is a friend or foe is to see if they can speak Rohirric, but it gained added nuance after the reign of Thengel, when he came back from Gondor speaking Sindarin and Westron all the time, which rubbed people back home the wrong way. Now it’s used as sort of a general expression about whether something or someone is genuinely of Rohan.

“Cirion didn’t win alone.” Based on Cirion coming to Eorl to ask for his assistance (which ultimately led to the Oath of Eorl and the founding of Rohan), it means “don’t be too proud to ask for help when you need it.”

“[Person] rides with their hands at their chest.” Proper riding posture has your hands at hip level, but amateurs often end up raising them higher to keep their balance (rather than making the correction in their seat as they should). Basically, this is one of the harshest insults you can fling at someone by insinuating that their horsemanship is bad.

“He’s going to hear Béma’s horn.” Referring to Oromë’s sounding of his great horn as he rode against the servants of Morgoth, it means that someone did something very stupid and now he’s going to face wrath for it.

“The glory of the grass is the glory of the field.” I stole a version of this from one of my favorite books, Matrix by Lauren Groff, but I think it’s perfect for a kingdom of plains and grasslands where collectivism is necessary for survival. One blade by itself is nothing, but a field has shape and substance and beauty. And if your field is not doing well, your personal glory as a single blade is still diminished even if your blade is thriving.

“[Person] has gone with Ácith.” Ácith is the Rohirric name for Béma’s wife. Flowers bloom in her wake, and so they believe that the appearance of simbelmynë on their graves means that she’s been there to escort the dead person on to their after life. So to “go with Ácith” means that someone has died.

I *also* really like thinking about unique words that would exist in Rohirric and not in other languages. I’m already on record as saying that I think they have DOZENS of words for “horse” that recognize different distinctions and nuances that no one else bothers with, but I’ve also speculated that they’ve got words like something that translates directly as “oath honor” and means the pride of having fulfilled your promises/commitments at great personal cost.

I totally LOVE this stuff and could sit around thinking about these all day every day, so if anyone else has examples that they want to throw out there, please do. I would LOVE to see them!

Check out part two here!

#answered asks #idioms and adages and turns of phrase #in rohan #rohirrim #lotr #worldbuilding

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midnighvtm4ss · 3 months ago

Note

Omg i absolutely loved rosemary!!! Also the fact it’s based on a Sierra Ferrell song is amazing. That brings me to my request to maybe an Arthur fic based on her song “I Could Drive You Crazy” 🤭🤭🤭 I feel like that song is so Arthur and his darling girl coded

I COULD DRIVE YOU CRAZY

cw: fluff, hunting, pre-canon, two idiots in love, arthur is crushing so hard it’s actually embarrassing

wc: 3,3k

a/n: the way I SCREAMED when I saw your request anon !! i loove Sierra Ferrell she’s one of the few artists i have constantly on repeat. Sorry I took my sweet time replying but I had to make this piece good. This is a little insight on Arthur and his darling girl pre-relationship dynamic ! Thank you for requesting and I hope you like it <3

The late noon sun bathed the camp in a cold, bright light, casting the long shadows of the nearby douglas fir trees stretching all around you as it began its slow but steady descent behind the rolling hills of the Tall Trees region as afternoon approached. The smell of woodsmoke and simmering stew filled the air, mixing with the earthy scent of pine and the faint aroma of freshly turned earth. You stood beside Pearson, by the cooking wagon. Your hands busy chopping vegetables while the man stirred the stew pot, his gruff voice occasionally muttering to himself as he adjusted the few seasonings Miss Grimshaw desperately requested to add into his infamous venison stew. Abigail stood nearby, cleaning the dishes used in the morning. Her laughter light as she shared stories about young Jack with you.

“Jack’s been askin’ after you,” Abigail said with a fond smile. “Ever since he learned how to say your name he’s been saying it non stop. Makes me miss the time when the only things he could say was ‘mama’ and random bubbling noises”

“He’s a sweet kid,”

“Yes, and a spoiled one too. No matter how much I try, he refuses to go to sleep until he hears your voice telling him a goodnight story”

You chuckled, feeling a warmth in your chest at the thought of the boy’s eager face. “I’ll have to think up a good one for him tonight, then.”

The sound of approaching hoofbeats drew your attention away from the conversation. You glanced up just in time to see the men returning from their latest job. Dust and sweat clung to them, their faces weary but carrying the unmistakable look of men who had just succeeded at their mission. Among them, a particular figure caught your eyes. Arthur Morgan dismounted with practiced ease, his broad shoulders slumped slightly by the fatigue of the day’s event. Even from a distance, his presence was commanding, a strong aura following him as he led a tired Boadicea toward the hitching post.

Even from a distance, there was something about Arthur that drew your eye—his quiet strength, the way he moved with precise purpose, his steady presence that always seemed to bring a sense of security to the camp. You watched as he handled the reins, hitching Boadicea and patting her dark brown mane, undoubtedly praising her for a job well done.

Was it possible to be jealous of a horse ?

His gaze briefly scanned the camp before it landed on you. For a fleeting moment, your eyes met, and you felt a flutter in your chest. You quickly returned your attention to a particular interesting piece of tomato you had cut, wishing for your burning cheeks to calm.

“Mister Morgan!” Pearson’s booming voice cut through the air, making you wish the earth would swallow you whole. “We’re runnin’ low on meat. Reckon we’ll last two more days with what little I have.” Pearson’s voice lowering to a more quiet tone as Arthur inched closer to the wagon. “Can you head out and bring somethin’ back before it gets dark?”

Arthur looked over at the stew pot, his face churning with an unreadable expression, then back to Pearson with a nod. “Sure, Pearson. I’ll head out now.”

As he turned to leave, something inside you stirred. You weren’t sure if it was the desire to escape the mundane tasks of camp, to immerse yourself in the unknown beauty of the wilderness or, more than that, the desire for a chance to spend time with Arthur, to learn from him, to be close to him. Nonetheless, before you could second guess your action you placed down your knife, stepping forward, the words hurriedly leaving your lips as in fear you might stop them if they took a second longer to pronounce.

“Mister Morgan,” you called out, your voice a little hesitant. “May I come with you?”

He paused, turning to face you fully. A faint hint of surprise washed over his face. His aqua eyes, always so full of depth and intensity, softened slightly as he considered your request. “You sure ‘bout that? Huntin’ ain’t exactly a walk in the woods.”

“I’d like to learn,” you insisted, your heart beating faster as you met his gaze under his worn gambler’s hat. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, a gesture that seemed almost shy. He nodded. “Alright, then. Let’s get goin’.”

It took an immeasurable amount of strength to refrain yourself from smiling brightly at the man in front of you. You promptly returned to your cutting station, untying your apron in quick movements. Abigail came closer to you, taking the apron from your hands and putting it on ready to replace you in your work. As you two locked eyes, a knowing smile adorned the brunette’s face, making you flush.

Your steps were quick as you followed Arthur to the hitching post, your Hungarian half-bred just a few feet away from Boadicea. You gently pat her, giving her a stalk of celery you stole from Pearson. Circling around to tighten the strap of your saddle you felt the heavy gaze of the outlaw follow your every move. His muscular form already mounted on his horse. You mounted your horse, not wanting to trouble Arthur and make him reconsider his decision. He cleared his throat before speaking,

“We’ll go through the woods on the left near the lake,” he stated, tutting at his horse to move forward “Mac told me he found a few deer tracks down there.”

You simply nodded, not trusting your voice to give away your feelings.

The air was cooler than the already crisp air in camp. Beneath the canopy of trees, the sun’s rays filtering through the needles of the pine trees in dappled patterns on the forest floor. The smell of pine and earth was much stronger here, mingling with the fresh scent of moss and the faint musk of animals that had passed through earlier. Arthur led the way, silent and sure, while you followed close behind, too occupied by taking in the view to initiate a conversation.

Passing through a particularly steep path Arthur signaled you to stop. He hopped down from his horse, walking a few feet forward before stopping. You copied his action. The ground beneath your boots was soft, a carpet of moss and pine needles that muted your footsteps.

“First rule of huntin’,” Arthur began, his voice low and steady as he crouched down to examine a set of tracks in the soft dirt, “is patience. Animals can sense when somethin’ ain’t right, so you gotta move slow and stay quiet.”

You nodded, kneeling beside him as you peered at the tracks. They were faint, just a few indentations in the earth, but Arthur pointed them out to you with practiced ease. The proximity of him, the way his voice dropped down on to a near whisper, sent a thrill through you that had little to do with the hunt and everything to do with the outlaw beside you.

“There,” he said, his hand brushing against yours as he pointed. “That’s a deer track. See how the hooves dig in? Means it was here not too long ago. We follow these, and we might just catch up to it.”

His touch was fleeting, but it left a warmth on your skin that lingered long after he pulled his hand away. You nodded again, trying to focus on the task at hand, reprimanding your mind for wandering to such thoughts. But it was difficult with Arthur so close, his presence almost overwhelming in its quiet intensity.

Together, you moved through the woods, following the tracks with Arthur’s guidance. You moved in silence. The woods offered you the calm noises of the rustling of leaves, the distant call of a bird, and the soft crunch of your boots on the forest floor. Every now and then, Arthur would pause, his head tilting slightly as he listened for any signs of movement, his sharp eyes scanning the space surrounding you.

Finally, after what felt like hours to you but was probably only a few minutes, you spotted the deer—a lone buck grazing in a small clearing, its head down, completely unaware of your presence. Arthur’s hand came up in front of you, motioning you to stop and you both knelt down behind a fallen mossy log, using it for cover.

He handed you his rifle, his hands steady as they helped you position it against your shoulder. His touch on you gentle, guiding you with the same care and precision he used in everything he did. You could feel his breath on your neck, making the small hairs on your nape stand up. The brim of his hat grazing your hair as the heat of his body so close to yours made your heart beat so violently that you were sure Arthur could hear it.

“Alright,” Arthur whispered, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in even close. “Here’s where it gets tricky. You gotta stay calm, keep your breathin’ steady, and line up your shot. Don’t rush it. As long as we don’t make a sound the deer will be there. Let the moment come to you.”

“Steady now,” Arthur murmured, his voice low and soothing. You took a deep breath, the crisp air filling your lungs. “Just like that. Breathe in… and out. Always pull the trigger on empty lungs”

You tried to focus, tried to steady your breath as he instructed, but the closeness of him, the deep rumble of his voice in your ear, made it difficult to concentrate. You aimed at the deer, your finger brushing the trigger, but your hands were trembling ever so slightly.

“Breathe,” Arthur reminded you, his hand coming to rest lightly on your shoulder grounding you, steadying you from the imminent recoil of the rifle. “You’ve got this.”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest, and then you squeezed the trigger. The shot rang out, echoing through the trees.

A second passed where it was deadly silent, you opened your eyes to check on your target but your aim had been off. The bullet whizzed past the deer, embedding itself in the trunk of a nearby tree. The deer’s head shot up, and in an instant, it bolted, disappearing into the underbrush before you even had time to lower the rifle.

Your shoulders slumped in disappointment, and you let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, Mister Morgan,” you muttered, gloomily handing the rifle back to him.

But Arthur wasn’t upset. Instead, he gave you a reassuring smile, his eyes warm as he shook his head with a strange myrth. “Don’t be sorry. You did good for your first try. Takes time to get the hang of it. Deer’s easy to track but a damn tricky target, especially when you’re just startin’ out.”

His words were kind, but you couldn’t help the sense of failure that settled in your chest. You had wanted to impress him, to show him that you could be just as capable as any of the men in the gang, but instead, you had let the moment slip away making a fool of yourself in front of him. You lowered your gaze to your lap, playing with a stray cotton strand of your blouse.

“Come on,” Arthur said, standing and offering you his hand. “Let’s see if we can track somethin’ else. We’ve still got some daylight left.”

You took his hand, feeling the roughness of his warm calloused palm against yours as he pulled you to your feet. The warmth of his touch, the easy way he smiled at you, made it hard to stay upset for long. There was something about Arthur—something steady and reassuring—that made you feel like everything was going to be alright, even when things didn’t go as planned.

You dusted off your skirt, it definitely wasn’t the best clothing choice for hunting but you had little to no time changing into a more comfortable outfit. You thanked whoever was above that this week wasn’t your turn to wash the camp’s clothes. Karen sure had a great load of work ahead of her.

The two of you mounted back up on your horses and continued deeper into the forest, the trees growing denser as the light began to fade. Arthur was patient, showing you how to look for signs of wildlife, teaching you how to move quietly through the underbrush without making yourself known to the animals you were tracking. His calm demeanor, his quiet confidence, made you feel more at ease, and slowly, you found yourself relaxing into the rhythm of the hunt.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting the forest in a soft, amber glow, you spotted something moving in the distance—a wild boar, its dark shape partially hidden by the underbrush as it ate the roots of a bush near a fallen log. You felt a surge of excitement, your heart beating faster as you pointed it out to Arthur.

“There,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you hopped down from your horse. “There’s a boar!”

Arthur followed you down his horse. His eyes followed your gaze as he nodded, his gaze narrowing as he assessed the situation. “That’s a good target. Boar’s got tough skin, but he’s not too fast. You ready to give it another try?”

You nodded, your grip tightening on the rifle as Arthur handed it to you once more. This time, you felt more confident, more focused. Arthur had shown you what to do, had taught you how to read the signs, how to stay calm and patient. You could do this. You needed to do this.

You crouched down behind a bush making sure you had a clear view of the target. Arthur stayed close, his presence a steadying force as you lined up your shot. “Remember,” he said softly, his voice just above a whisper, “breathe slowly, keep your hands steady, and don’t rush it. You’ve got this.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill your lungs as you focused on the boar. It was still rooting around, completely unaware of you and Arthur watching from the shadows. You steadied the rifle, your finger brushing the trigger, and then, with a calmness you hadn’t felt before, you squeezed.

The shot rang out, sharp and clear in the evening air. This time, your aim was true. The boar let out a sharp squeal, its body jerking as the bullet hit its mark. It staggered for a moment, and then it collapsed, its movements ceasing as it fell to the ground.

For a moment, you just stood there, staring in disbelief. You had done it. You had actually done it.

“I did it,” you whispered, a smile slowly spreading across your face as the realization sank in. “Arthur, I did it!” you said turning to face Arthur. You couldn’t believe yourself. You actually hunted down some game. A laughter came up to you, heartily and genuine.

Arthur’s face lit up with a grin, his eyes shining with pride as he clapped you on the back. “Good girl. Nice work. That’s some fine shootin’.”

His praise warmed you more than the fading sunlight ever could, and you felt a surge of joy and accomplishment. But it wasn’t just about the hunt—it was about the way Arthur was looking at you now, with a gleam in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, as if he was seeing you in a new light.

The two of you approached the poor boar, and Arthur knelt beside it, inspecting your handiwork with a nod of approval. “Perfect shot,” he said, glancing up at you from under his hat with a smile. “Damn, you’re a natural.”

Your heart swelled with pride at his words, and you couldn’t help but brightly beam at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that had little to do with the successful hunt and everything to do with the man beside you.

As Arthur worked skinning the animal and preparing the boar to transport it back to camp, you found yourself stealing glances at him. Although he was now covered in blood you couldn’t help but find him even more attractive. You watched the way the fading light played across his features, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw, the curve of his plump lips, the intensity in his eyes that seemed to soften whenever he looked your way. There was something different about the way he was acting around you now, a quiet affection in his gaze, a tenderness in his touch that hadn’t been there before.

Once the boar was ready, the two of you began to head back to camp, the weight of the animal stowed on the back of Boadicea as you carried its pelt. The forest was quiet now, the sun nearly gone, leaving the trees bathed in the soft, dusky indigo light of twilight. As you rode, side by side, you could feel the connection between you and Arthur growing stronger with each step, an unspoken bond that neither of you had to put into words growing evermore.

“Thank you for teaching me, Mister Morgan” you said softly, stopping your horse just a few feet away as the camp came into view, the warm glow of the firelight welcoming you back. The distance giving you both one last moment of privacy. “I’ve always wanted to learn, but I didn’t think I’d be any good at it.”

Arthur glanced over at you, his expression thoughtful. “You don’t need to be so formal with me now, you can call me Arthur,” he started. “Besides, you’ve got a good eye,” he said, his voice sincere. “And you listen, which is more than I can say for most people in this godforsaken gang. You did real good out there.”

The praise made your cheeks warm, and you ducked your head slightly, feeling a little shy under his gaze. “I had a good teacher.”

Arthur shook his head at that, hiding his face under the brim of his hat as he mumbled to himself something you didn’t quite catch.

“Maybe we’ll do this again sometime,” he said, his tone casual but with an underlying amusement that betrayed his carefree tone

“I’d like that,” you replied, your voice soft as the two of you approached camp, the sounds of the gang's usual chatter welcoming you back. “I’d like that a lot.”

As you helped Arthur carry the boar to Pearson, who greeted you with his usual gruffness but a nod of approval, you couldn’t help but feel that something had changed between you and Arthur. There was a new understanding, a deeper connection, something that went beyond the simple companionship you had shared before when you occasionally chatted while you worked on the camp’s chores.

As the evening wore on and the camp settled into its usual rhythm, you found yourself glancing over at Arthur, who was seated by the campfire, his gaze occasionally drifting your way. And each time your eyes met, there was a spark—a shared smile, a lingering look—that hinted at something more.

And in that moment, you knew that this was just the beginning. The beginning of something special, something that neither of you could quite put into words, but that you both felt growing with every passing moment you spent together.

#.rira’s posting ౨ৎ ⋆#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead fandom #rdr2 fanfic #divider by fairytopea

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